#wrens writing

[villanevedenier]

I finished chapter one of my long ass fic

[genevawrenn]

A White Orchid Broken in the Rain

✨c!Wilbur Soot & c!Niki Nihachu [Rain Duo] ✨11.3k W.C. ✨c!Niki Nihachu-centric ✨Emotional Hurt/Comfort & Graphic Descriptions & Canon Divergence ✨If You Only Knew by Shinedown

“You may not remember this, but all of us went through hell to follow your frantic steps. After you left us, when you begged for death which was given to you, we were left in the remnants of what you had done. They were only children, Wilbur, kids left bearing the transgressions of a previous generation’s decisions, something the ones after us should never have to face.”

She took a breath, breaking their gaze for a moment before meeting him once more. “You might not have liked any of the things that were said, but I see an element of truth in all of them. So many consequences of your decisions landed on us, the ones sworn to you. While you got death, Wilbur, we got living hell.”

Her words were harsh, her mind finally settled on anger as the words left her full lips. “I do not know how you stand here again today, but I do know every word I've heard so far is deserved. You had the unlucky experience of coming back from the dead to fill shoes stained in blood and its going to fucking suck for a while, but you must face each person you harmed before you can ever begin to feel better.”

[fragilefable]

nobody's son, nobody's daughter.

Pairing: Joel Miller x Fem!Reader Rating: Mature (18+ minors DNI) Summary: When you and Joel get separated the night of the outbreak, you spend the next decade searching for him. Just when you've given up— a miracle occurs. Warnings: heavy angst, canon typical violence, character death (sarah), discussions of grief, very brief mention of suicidal ideation, alcohol used to cope, depression, suggestive language, lovers reunited, hurt/comfort, happy ending.

Word Count: 6.6k Currently Playing: Chemtrails Over the Country Club by Lana Del Rey ♪

A/N: This piece has been months in the making, hours of rereading and rewriting. This is my love child. I'm possibly (definitely) planning a part 2 with smut... ;) I am a full-time college student who unfortunately has other responsibilities, so please be patient with me. My first lengthy piece in a while, so please be kind & enjoy my doves!

Sleep was the most convenient temporary escape available in the post-cordyceps world. Oftentimes, if you were lucky enough, with sleep came dreams—glimpses of a divine, utopian life. One without spores or fungi of any kind. There was, however, always the chance that with it came nightmares—Polaroids of the past, the uprising of the infection. Mothers clutching bloodied children, decaying men ripping open flesh with their savage teeth, and, worst of all— losing Joel Miller. 

Joel was... everything—neighbor, friend, lover. Joel hated that word— laughed every time it managed to escape your lips in a hushed whisper, but that was what you were to each other. It transcended explanation. You'd moved to Austin after college in hopes of starting over, a clean slate. Instead, you'd stumbled upon a single father and his then 11-year-old daughter. You fit into their life like the missing puzzle piece— you completed them. Sarah needed a motherly presence in her life. There was only so much Joel could do for the blossoming young woman. 

And Joel— Joel never knew what he was missing until you came along. Someone to be able to rely on, to love unconditionally, a fixed constant. To say he fell head over heels was an understatement, but it became so much more than physical attraction. It became something far more profound and terrifying— love. The kind of love only poets write about. It was fierce, at times agonizing. That's what made losing him all the more heartbreaking. 

You were with Sarah the night of the outbreak— Joel's birthday. Lounging around in plaid pajamas, waiting for Joel to get home from work. Despite being exhausted, Sarah was beaming with pride over her birthday present for her dad— his broken wristwatch now repaired and refurbished. You smiled mischievously, "And just where did you get the money to fix this, young lady?" Sarah grinned slyly, "Just lyin' around, it's not like he noticed it was missin'!" Hours passed, you and Sarah slumped against the couch: Fast asleep, soft snores escaping mouths, drool dribbling down chins. 

The sight made Joel's heart quaver in his chest. Kicking off his muddied work boots, he carefully plopped down in between the two sleeping figures, planting a gentle kiss on the crown of your head. "Hmm. You're home," you stirred awake, drowsy eyes met with a welcome sight: Weathered tan skin and dark chocolate curls. "Hey, Darlin'. You outta head up to bed. I'll be up soon." You nodded faintly, planting a chaste kiss on Sarah's forehead: "Goodnight, sweet girl." 

You fell fast asleep as soon as your body hit Joel's mattress, his scent engulfing you like a blanket of safety— a shield of sorts. The vague smell of sawdust and pine soap conquered your senses, a heavenly combination. An hour later, you felt the bed dip down, strong arms circling your waist.

Frantic hands shook you awake, calling your name weakly: "I can't find Dad. N' somethin' weird is goin' on outside." You sat up, Sarah's urgency pulling you from your hazy half-asleep state. "Don't worry, sweetheart, I'll call him. Go back to bed." Sarah ignored your suggestion and sat beside you as you reached for the landline. The call went to voicemail without hesitation: "Huh... That's weird." 

Sarah grew more anxious by the second, "I'm gonna go check the driveway for his truck." Sarah shot up from the bed, feet pattering down the stairs. "Sarah! Wait, I'll come with-" Throwing on your Converse, you hastily ran out after her. Your tired eyes scanned the pavement but found no signs of Sarah or Joel's truck. The Adler's door was wide open; you huffed: "Sarah?" 

The Adler's house was pitch black and eerily quiet, the family's dog nowhere to be seen: "Sarah? This is trespassing!" Tiptoeing through the living room, you halted at the sight of a ruby trail— blood. Grotesque, wet noises filled the previously silent house: "Sarah?" The teen bolted out of the kitchen, grabbing your hand and pulling you towards the front door: "Run!" Mrs. Adler scrambled after Sarah, mouth dribbling crimson liquid, no longer bound to her wheelchair. 

"What the fuck–" Sarah's grip on your hand tightened as you passed through the door and stumbled onto the pavement. A pair of familiar brown eyes scanned Sarah's figure and then yours: "Sarah? Darlin'? Are ya'll ok-" Joel's words were cut off when Mrs. Adler dashed through the front door, her figure lunging for you. 

Joel struck the side of her head with a wrench as you made a feeble attempt to crawl away. His strikes were lethal, and yet the elder kept thrashing against the ground. "Joel, stop!" Only then did you notice Tommy, Joel's younger brother, behind you, coaxing Sarah into the truck. 

Joel exhausted Mrs. Adler with one final swing, dropping the bloodied wrench beside him and wiping his shaky hands on his jeans. His gaze softened when he saw your timid frame— shaking and unmoving. "Darlin'... Baby, are you okay?" His hands found your shoulders, rubbing soothing circles on a patch of exposed skin. You hesitated; Joel had just killed Mrs. Adler in cold blood— but she tried to kill you and Sarah first. 

Joel hurriedly hoisted you to your feet, "We gotta go, okay baby? It's not safe here." You clambered into the backseat beside Sarah, the girl's arms thrown around you tightly. Kissing the crown of her head, you reassured her: "It's okay, sweetheart, everything's okay." 

Neighbors began to exit their homes, baffled and disturbed by the sight of Mrs. Adler's bloody, lifeless body lying in the yard. Someone called out for Joel. He immediately instructed her to go back inside and lock the doors. Tommy beckoned Joel into the car, exiting the culdesac and taking off towards the highway. After a fleeting moment, you mustered up the courage to ask, "Joel, what's going on?" Tommy replied, "They're sayin' it's a virus- some kinda parasite." Sarah spoke up, tears forming, "Are we sick?" Joel shot the idea down immediately. 

Tommy and Joel continued bickering, your eyes glued to the road ahead: "Joel! Look- It's Jimmy's place." The two-story farmhouse was completely engulfed in flames, unrecognizable. Your hands clung to Sarah, burrowing her head into your neck: "It's okay, sweet girl." Police sirens rang out through the darkness, interrupted by soft pleas for help. A family was stranded on the side of the road, begging for aid. Tommy began to slow the car. "What're you doin'?" Joel firmly questioned. Tommy shot back, "Got a kid, Joel." 

"So do we. Keep drivin'," Joel spat. Tommy sped back up, eyes searching Joel's for an explanation: "Somebody else will come along." As Tommy approached the interstate, the sounds of disgruntled drivers grew louder: "Fuck! Everybody had the same fuckin' idea. I can't get through this." Joel gripped the dashboard, "All right, all right. Let's think it through," he paused for a moment, "All right, take the field! We cut across, and we pick up on the west side." Tommy steered right, the truck jerking on the uneven terrain. As he drove over the hill, helicopters and tanks came into view, "Shit. Fuckin' army." 

Sarah peered out from behind the seat, "Isn't that good?" Your voice was filled with hesitation, "That's the highway we need to get to." Joel and Tommy argued, eventually continuing toward a town just east of the highway. Sarah stilled, "Maybe it's everywhere. Maybe there's nowhere to go." A booming roar erupted, Tommy twisting his body to get a better look at the night sky: "What the fuck?!" Commercial airplanes flew overhead, merely hundreds of feet above the ground. You instinctively covered Sarah's ears with your hands, eyes wrenching shut at the deafening rumble of their engines. Tommy swerved to avoid a police blockade ahead, turning into a nearby alleyway. 

The streets were flooded with screaming civilians, running in every direction— no one sure who exactly they were running from. A hoard of people fled from inside a movie theater, causing Tommy to shift the truck's gear into reverse. "Dad?" Sarah called out, "Dad!" Joel turned; an airplane was rapidly descending— heading straight towards town, "Shit. Move!" As the plane made contact with the ground, a mushroom cloud of fire and smoke bloomed, causing Tommy to lose control of the truck. 

A strong hand shook your leg, "Darlin'? Stay right there, don't move." Your side ached, cool liquid flowing from your head. Beside you, Sarah quickly came to, her eyes shifting to the figure hunched outside of the flipped car, clawing at the corpse of an older man. "Sarah, baby, don't look. C'mere, put your arms around me." As Joel carefully unearthed Sarah from the mangled truck, you climbed out of the shattered window: Hissing as you shifted against your arm. Sarah tried to put weight on her leg, provoking muffled whimpers and cries at the attempt. Tommy, equipped with his shotgun, called out, "We gotta get off the street!" 

As you approached Joel and Sarah, a flaming police car crashed into the capsized truck, separating the three of you from Tommy. Tommy roared from the other side of the wreck: "Meet at the river! I'll find a way." Joel turned to Sarah, "Can you run?" She shook her head wearily. He scooped her into his arms, "Keep your eyes on me." Joel shifted towards you, "No matter what, you keep runnin'. Alright, darlin'? Promise me." You hesitated, desperate eyes meeting his, "I promise." 

The three of you stumbled through the alley until you came across a cluster of bodies scattered across the pavement, crouched figures grunting over the lifeless figures. The end of the passage was clear. The only problem was getting past the rotted creatures without being noticed. There was no way Joel could outrun them in his condition. One of the creatures shot up at the sound of a remote blast, eyes landing on Joel. His voice was firm, "Go." You grabbed his arm, "Joel!" He repeated his command, louder— frantic: "You can't carry Sarah w'that arm. Go find Tommy. We'll meet you there."  

You pressed a hurried kiss to Sarah's head, the deranged man scrambling to his feet before you could embrace Joel. You took off towards the other end of the alley, Joel and Sarah barricading themselves inside the vacant diner across from the pile of carcasses. Your body throbbed with every step, head burning with the fire of a thousand suns. Your feet carried you across town, weaving in and out of injured civilians and infected until you reached the river. The stream was pitch black, sounds of gunfire and cries rang out in the distance. 

Suddenly, a bright light blinded you: "Put your hands where I can see 'em!" You obeyed, raising them as high as your injured arm would allow. Your voice raw with distress, "M'not sick! Just trying to find my family!" The man stepped closer, seemingly inspecting your physical state. He was clad in military gear, "You hurt?" You shook your head eagerly: "Just a sprained arm." He nodded his head, "Alright. We've got buses that can take you to a decontamination zone." 

Your head scanned the vast field, eyes scouring for any sign of Joel or Tommy: "I- I can't. I'm supposed to meet someone here. At the river." The soldier looked dissatisfied and slowly lifted his gun, "The river goes on for miles. S'not safe out here." Your eyebrows threaded together in confusion, "What- are you- are you gonna shoot me?" The soldier's grasp on his automatic rifle tightened, "I'm sayin' you have two choices. You can either come with me or you can-" 

A guttural scream sounded from behind him. But before he could turn around, a pair of arms seized his neck and began ripping into his military garb. The soldier flailed wildly at his attacker. While he was busy fighting off the deranged beast, you took off into the darkness, wandering aimlessly and calling out for your family. That night was the last time you saw Joel Miller.

16 Years Later

The bitter winter air overwhelmed your senses until you were gasping for air, limbs numb and cold to the touch. You wouldn't make it much longer without shelter, without warmth. You'd spent the better part of the last 16 years searching for him— for Joel. Ever since that night, you'd scoured every independent civilization, every QZ, within mobs of infected. Each night, you silently prayed never to find him like that— skin pallid and overcome with fungus, head split wide open, cordyceps blooming from within. 

You'd trekked across the country with the sole intent of finding him alive and healthy. The journey was brutal— raiders and infected desperate for blood. But by far, the hardest battle was pushing away the nagging thought that, even if Joel and Sarah were somehow alive, you'd never find them. Now, after nearly two decades of searching, you were reaching the end of your journey. You'd officially trekked across the entire nation. If your estimations were correct, you were nearing Wyoming— hence the formidable cold front. 

You'd heard rumors about a small civilization located somewhere on the skirts of Jackson County— your last stop. You knew the chances were slim; that feeling only fortified with each city, each civilian who hadn't heard of or seen anyone by the name of "Joel Miller." But you kept searching— because the day that you stopped would be the day you lost everything, lost yourself. It was as though he held onto you with a leash. If you tugged hard enough, could you finally break free? What else did you have to live for? Maybe one day you'd have some sort of epiphany, something to make sense of all the death and suffering. For now, Joel kept your hope alive— the hope that there was happiness and safety beyond all of the pain. The very thought of him kept you alive. 

You stood in front of thick and rusted iron gates, your posture crooked due to exhaustion— Just one more stop. The sounds of cocking guns drew your attention to the top of the gates. A young man and woman stand there, rifles pointed at you: "Drop your weapon! Let us see your hands!" You obey. This is standard practice amongst civilizations— you'd done it a thousand times by now. Unsheathing and kicking away your pistol, you then throw your backpack towards the gate. Hands raised next to your head. Your voice wavers as you half-shout, "I'm not infected! Just looking for someone!" 

The woman searched your face for a bit, presumably looking for any signs of deceit. She nodded towards her companion, the corroded metal walls unfolding. Two men approached you and picked up your discarded belongings. The younger of the two roughly patted you down and checked for bite marks. When they were satisfied, they led you past the gates into the town square. The village was pleasant, a handful of people milling about in the slushy streets. 

A familiar voice erupts from behind you: "Please excuse the initial hostility. We need to be careful about who we let in... I'm Maria." She extends her hand. You accept it gingerly and introduce yourself. "Welcome to Jackson. You must be freezing. Come on, we'll talk inside." — Maria leads you inside a small building, the exterior reminding you of the Lincoln Logs you used to play with as a child. The inside is... quaint. A lone desk sits near the lit fireplace. Maria leans against the desk and motions for you to take a seat: "So... You're lookin' for someone. And you have reason to believe they're here?" 

You sigh, allowing your aching body to relax against the couch's plush cushions: "No... I am looking for someone, but... Well, this is my last stop." Maria nods sympathetically, tucking a lone braid behind her ear— "I get it. You've been looking for a long time. It's about time to stop. To rest." You can't help the tears that form on your waterline. Your gaze shifts to your lap. Maria continues, "Who are you lookin' for?" 

You swallow the fist-sized lump in your throat, "Joel. Joel Miller." Your attention snaps towards her as a wistful sigh escapes her lips. A tight frown dawns on Maria's face, "I'm sorry. There's no Joel Miller here." You nod; you knew it was a long shot, but hearing it aloud was something different entirely. You rise from the couch, "Thank you. I apologize for takin' up your time." Maria speaks up before you can reach the door: "Now what? You got a place to stay?" 

You honestly hadn't thought that far, about life beyond looking. For years, finding Joel was your only purpose— your rationale for remaining on this infested hellscape. You had no home, no roots. Maria's voice interrupts your thoughts, "There's room here. We've got food and water— shelter. Hell, we're even working on electricity." You turn to face her. Her words dripping with verity, "Jackson could be your home." 

Despite having just met her, Maria's words touched something buried deep within you— hope. Hopeful of a new life, of new beginnings. You forged a small smile, "Okay." Maria smiled, but it was much different from yours: It was toothy, genuine— "Alright. I'll give you the grand tour then." For the next hour or so, Maria marched you around town. She showed you the vast dining hall laden with maple furniture. The stables filled with mare and their young. 

Then she showed you the schoolhouse. It was a small brick building. The walls were filled with colorful crayon drawings. Tiny handprints were pressed onto the wall in various colors of acrylic paint. The dulcet sounds of innocent laughter erupted from every corner of the room. Children from the ages of 5-12 were scattered around: Some doing arts and crafts, some reading, and others playing with worn toys. A tear slipped down your cheek. You brushed it away quickly before Maria could notice. 

You couldn't help but think of Sarah. About the first time she knocked on your door— she was selling chocolate bars for some fundraiser at school. Her bronze complexion dappled with freckles, and her wide smile revealed a missing tooth. She was eleven at the time, eyes bright and full of wonder. Blind to the atrocities that loomed at every turn. Sometimes, you'd think about what she looked like now— did her curls still rest atop her shoulders? Did she still laugh until she was panting for air? She's thirty now... Has she fallen in love? That was considering she is still... 

You didn't entertain the thought. Sarah was fine, alive somewhere with her father to look after her. Maria's touch pulls you from your thoughts, "How about I show you where you'll be living? Get you settled in." As Maria exited the schoolhouse, you stole one last glance at the room. A little girl met your gaze. Her dark curls were pulled into two ponytails. Her burnt mahogany eyes crinkled at the corners as she smiled, raising her tiny hand and waving it at you. You returned the sentiment, this time allowing the tear to fall down and onto the ground.  

Maria escorted you just outside of town, to a street lined with country-style two-story houses in relatively good condition. "This one here, the green one. It's already furnished. I'll have one of my guys come by later with some essentials from the pantry. Otherwise, you should be all set 'til tomorrow." Your eyes bore into the house. It was nice, but also... "It's big," you retort, "Don't know what I could possibly need all those rooms for." Maria lays the silver key in your hand, "You never know." 

You internally cringe at the connotation. Start over with some man? Have a big family and a white picket fence? You couldn't. It wouldn't be the same. You let out a shaky breath, "Thank you, Maria." She nods, "Come see me tomorrow, and we'll talk about where to go from here. Everyone in Jackson has a job, a role to play. Rest up... You deserve it." She departs, leaving just you and your great, big, empty house. 

3 Years Later

Jackson developed rapidly under Maria's supervision. The population rose from 50 to roughly 300 in just under three years. Jackson now had electricity, thanks to the Jackson County Hydroelectric Dam that Maria's team was able to get up and running. You'd become the head of patrol— in charge of organizing the schedules and determining the routes. You and Maria had become very close, practically family. She's the person who understood you, what you've been through. 

In an attempt to busy yourself and earn your keep, you'd thrown yourself into working alongside her. Not just with patrols but also with community relations and development. You'd completely reconstructed the greenhouse, built a jailhouse— that, luckily, wasn't used much— and helped fortify Jackson's defenses. Maria assigned you the title "community leader," but you much preferred what everyone else called you: "Maria's right hand." 

Your house was still too big, but now it felt homier— lived in. The walls were plastered with botanical paintings you'd found while out on patrol, vases of fresh cut flowers from the community garden placed upon every surface. Cable knit blankets were draped over the shabby leather furniture, the brick fireplace emanating warmth and bringing solace during the cold winter months. You'd even taken up baking in your spare time, frequently bringing baked goods to the schoolhouse. 

Nevertheless, when the sun set and the sounds of bustling downtown Jackson faded, your thoughts always returned to Joel. His bronze skin, tousled brown curls, and perfectly plump lips. Suddenly, it felt as though the house was mocking you, and the right side of the bed always grew colder. Perhaps it's why you worked yourself so hard; taking a day off was seldom. You couldn't escape the persistent feeling that Joel and Sarah weren't alive. That you'd failed to find them time and time again because somewhere, they were six feet under, buried in an unmarked grave. All it takes is one moment— one lapse between heartbeats— and suddenly, everything has changed.

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The spring air was crisp with morning dew. A gentle breeze slipped through the cracked bay window. Three heavy thuds woke you— the sharp knocks cutting through serene silence. Your voice was raspy with sleep, "Coming!" You quickly pulled on the worn terrycloth robe that hung from the bedpost and stumbled downstairs. You swung the door open to reveal Stanley, a young man who worked in construction: "I'm so sorry to wake you, but Maria sent me to get you. She said it's urgent."  

You sighed deeply, rubbing the remaining exhaustion from your face: "Urgent like, 'don't get dressed' urgent?" Stanley's eyes roamed across the dark fabric of your robe before snapping back to your face. His cheeks bright pink, "Oh, um... no! Just meet her in her office ASAP." Sending him off with a nod, you traipsed upstairs and threw on a pair of jeans and a t-shirt before making your way downtown. It was early morning, the streets empty save the early risers milling about, getting ready for work. As you passed a group of older women sipping hot beverages, you overheard whispers of "an outsider." As Maria's righthand, you were expected to greet all incoming arrivals. How on earth that could constitute a crisis, you did not know. 

As you approached Maria's office, the woman in question exited swiftly, shutting the door behind her. You grew closer, taking note of her fidgeting hands. She was... nervous? "Good morning, Mar. What's the emergency?" Maria's face was sullen. You'd never seen her like this, not in the three years you'd known her. Your hands clenched at your sides, "Maria? What is it?"

She took a deep breath, "This may be a false alarm, but... This guy's last name is Miller. Says he's originally from Texas." Her words stole the air from your lungs, a pit forming in the bottom of your stomach. She said something else, but all you could hear was buzzing. Your vision blurred, the dark-skinned woman's features coming in and out of focus. Could it be him—had Joel finally found you? 

Maria called your name, pulling you from your trance. As your vision focused, you pushed past her. Your grip on the doorknob was bone-crushing, your knuckles turning white from the tension. You inhaled— don't get your hopes up. It might not be him. You exhaled, pushing the door open with a startling amount of force. You analyzed the man's figure, you recognized him— only it wasn't Joel. It wasn't the Miller whose calloused hands once traveled the expanse of your body, making note of each hidden crevice as though it may hold treasure. Whose lips once seared white hot kisses in the places he knew were the most sensitive— "Tommy?"

He looked dumbstruck, his lips parted in shock. Before you could stop yourself, you threw your arms around his neck. It took him a moment to reciprocate your embrace, but once he did, his arms anchored you in place. He spoke your name quietly against the crown of your head: "I can't... I can't believe it." You pulled away, "I hardly can either." His hands rested atop your shoulders as his eyes searched your face in disbelief. His resemblance to his older brother felt like a gut punch. You were afraid to ask— fearful of the truth: "Joel? Is he..."

Tommy's hand squeezed your shoulder in reassurance, "He's alive. Last I checked, holed up somewhere in the Boston QZ." A warm tear slipped down your face, the salty liquid resting just below your chin. You'd checked Boston QZ, but recent "terrorist" attacks had made it impossible to stay longer than an hour without drawing the attention of every FEDRA soldier in that godforsaken city. Your hands trembled as you clutched your chest, "And Sarah? How's my sweet girl?" 

Tommy's face went cold— No. No. She can't— "She's gone." The taste of bile rose in your throat, "Wh-when?" Tommy removed his hands from your shoulders, "That night. Shot by some military fucker. She..." He hesitated, "Joel held her. It happened s'fast." Your kneels buckled, threatening to send you towards the ground. You fucked up— you let yourself get accustomed to the idea of her being alive. Repeated it over and over again until you believed it to be true. This was all your fault. 

Your shoulders shook silently, as if you were crying— but no tears emerged, "I have to… I have to find Joel." Turning toward the door, Tommy caught you by your wrist: "I can't let you do that, hon. It's a damn death sentence." You tugged at your arm, desperate to break free from the restraint: "Let go of me, Tommy. I'm doin' this." Maria stepped forward, her hand resting at the base of your neck— "No, you're not. Jackson needs you here. I need you here."

Your breathing became labored. Deep down, you knew they were right— you were in no shape to travel across the country again. You'd barely survived it the first time. Chest heaving, your free hand found purchase on your throat, tightly grasping and constricting the airway. Tommy wearily let go of your wrist, his eyes wide and filled with fear. You ran for the door; you could hear Tommy call out for you as you fled homeward. Sarah was gone. Joel was alone.

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Days passed, and despite everything, the sun rose in the morning and the moon at night. You weren't quite sure how long it had been. You'd stopped counting daybreak after the first five came and went. Maria checked in after the first couple of days, worried that you hadn't been seen around town— or leaving your house, for that matter. Your grief was debilitating, all-consuming. You couldn't eat, could barely sleep, only finding relief at the bottom of a liquor bottle. You were tired… The kind of tired that sleep didn't fix.

Tommy came once. Sat and talked while you stared straight ahead at the empty wall. He could sense your anger, your resentment. How could he not? You silently judged him for leaving Joel, leaving his brother after his only daughter died in his arms. Tommy told you that Joel had changed. He wasn't the Joel you fell in love with; he'd done terrible things— But so had you. You'd killed innocent people, people who were just trying to protect themselves. And you did it in the name of finding Joel and Sarah, of surviving for them. You'd convinced yourself it was kill or be killed, and you had to live with that. Come judgment day, you'd pay greatly for your sins. You accepted that, too.

You only dared to look at Tommy's face once. You saw Joel in his eyes— you saw Sarah. Maybe if you hadn't left Joel in that alleyway, she'd still be alive. You could've protected her, taken the bullet for her. You would have, without hesitation. You'd cross the fiery pits of hell for her, reside in Caina, and be tortured for eternity. You may not have given birth to her, but Sarah was your daughter.

If you closed your eyes hard enough, you could faintly picture her smile. The dimples that formed just below her bottom lip. You could smell the faint aroma of her strawberry shampoo. Hear the broken remnants of her grandiose laughter. You swore to keep those memories someplace safe. Take them out and remember when you needed to, as if they were photographs.

A part of you wanted to be happy that she didn't suffer. She was too innocent for this new, heartless world. She was everything good in life. She was sunshine, sugary syrup, and pure, unadulterated love. But you could not accept this bright side. Not when it meant a life without her in it. Innocence is beautiful, but life is for living.

Tommy stood up, slipping a piece of paper on the nightstand. You cautiously turned it over to reveal a creased photo: You, Joel, and Sarah posing after winning one of her soccer games. You stole one last glance at Tommy. This time, he did not see blinding hatred in your gaze. Instead, he saw gratitude. As your glassy eyes bore into him, he nodded knowingly and left.

Maria came a couple of hours later with leftovers from the dining hall. Setting them on the counter next to the empty whiskey bottles displayed like pathetic trophies. You were in the same position as when Tommy left. You held the photo in your hands, thumbs stroking its frayed edges. Maria quietly dragged a chair closer to the bed, sitting just within arm's reach: "I went to a really dark place after I lost Kevin."

Tearing your gaze from the picture, one of her hands finds yours: "He made life worth living… It took me a long time to start to feel human again. To feel something other than pain and sorrow. The grief never goes away. But slowly, it starts to feel less like loss, and more like love." She inhaled shakily, "I know what you're feeling right now. I know why you're drowning your sorrows in that shit, trying to drink yourself to death." A tear slips down your face, her hand squeezing yours gently: "But you have to understand… What you're feeling right now, that's love. You're not a bad person for how you try to kill your sadness. But it's not gonna work."

You're unable to contain the choked sob that escapes your throat. The tears come harshly, scorching saline against your skin. Maria shifts her weight from the chair onto the bed, holding your shaking frame: "It's okay… Let it out." Her hands cradle your head, smoothing over your disheveled hair. "It's all my fault," you gasp between sobs, "I never should've left them. It's all my fault." Maria shushes you, "No, honey. You don't really believe that. You want someone to blame, but you're not that person."

Eventually, the tears cease. Your breathing evened out as Maria held you, "I miss Joel, so fucking much." You could feel Maria nod tenderly, "I know Honey." A lone tear slipped down your cheek, "Do you think— do you think he'll find me?" Maria pulled away, her chestnut eyes meeting yours, "Truthfully, I don't know." With a deep sigh, she squeezed your hand— "But I know he wouldn't want you to live like this. Isolating yourself from everyone else. You're allowed to grieve, but please don't shut me out. You're my person." You clutch her hands, squeezing firmly: "Even at my worst?" Her arms curled around your torso once again, "Even at your worst."

· · ───────────── ·𖥸· ────────────── · ·

The warmer seasons passed with haste. A wintertide blanket of white gradually covered Jackson. Day by day, Maria and Tommy were able to pull you out of your depressive stupor. You had to admit, they made quite the team. Maria was ultimately right, Joel wouldn't want you to spend the rest of your life a bedridden drunkard. But still, life without him was arduous. There wasn't a day that passed that you didn't think of Joel Miller. About where he was, what he was doing, who he was with, and whether he missed you as terribly as you did him. 

As much as you wished to focus on these melancholic thoughts, new developments began to bloom in Jackson. Tommy and Maria's blossoming love was hard to ignore and impossible to disapprove of. Watching two people whom you adored fall in love, it felt as though nothing had changed: No cordyceps, no raiders, just Jackson and all of its inhabitants. Perhaps you could find peace in that. When Maria told you that they were expecting, you were over the moon. Maria and Tommy deserved it, Jackson deserved it. Proof that the world is not over— that no matter the circumstances, mankind will prevail. 

You threw together a small wedding ceremony with the help of the florist and local bakery, the couple wanting to tie the knot before the baby's arrival. Joking about how "shotgun weddings" withstood the test of time. Something arose in you, a pang of jealousy— Envious that you and Joel never got the perfect white wedding. It disgusted you, so you buried it deep within the recesses of your heart. 

The winter was hard, the Wyoming chill threatening every crop that dared to sprout from the Earth. This resulted in you spending extra time in the greenhouse. You found gardening to be a rather soothing task, being able to nurture new life in a world marked by death and decay. It also provided plenty of time to think: Something that you did not relish. No matter how many times you pushed the thought of Joel away, it always returned. Whether it was at dawn or late at night plaguing your dreams. 

When you weren't at Tommy and Maria's house or at the Tipsy Bison, you were in the greenhouse. The small shack sat right on the outskirts of town, situated with the perfect view of downtown Jackson. The glass panes shut out the cold, trapping any warmth inside. You bathed in the basking glow of the sun, gravitating towards it as a Sunflower would. You weren't sure when thoughts of Sarah became joyous, memories no longer met with choked cries but instead with soft chuckles. Nonetheless, you welcomed the growth. It's how she would want you to remember her. 

You watched the clock that hung just above the door, a mere estimation of the time: 12:15 p.m. You carefully removed your dirt-caked gloves, setting them on the wooden bench beside you. Your stomach growled impatiently as you began the journey downtown. The air was frigid despite the sun's rays, the cold slowly numbing your fingers. As you ambled towards town, Stanley came jogging towards you: "Hey! Just got word from the gates that Maria's back. Brought some stragglers, two, I think." 

You nodded in his direction, "Alright. Thanks, Stan." The soft crunch of snow beneath your feet accompanied you as you approached downtown Jackson, an air of excitement and uncertainty radiating off of the townsfolk. It wasn't every day that Jackson came across people who weren't just blood-thirsty raiders looking for valuables. As you rounded a corner, you overheard a commotion, the sound of yelling. Strangely, it didn't sound angry or fearful. It sounded... happy. 

Midtown came into view; the construction that was being worked on was now abandoned. Immediately, your gaze fixed on two figures in the middle of the street embracing. That was... not typical. You could make one man out to be Tommy; his black curls contrasted starkly against his warm taupe skin. The other was taller and broader, his hair disheveled and graying. Behind them you could make out Maria on horseback, next to her was a young girl, who couldn't be older than thirteen. 

Maria's expression was borderline unreadable, a mixture of trepidation and relief. Until her eyes met yours, then her face softened. A look of tenderness emerged. Everything about this situation puzzled you— Until the two figures broke apart. The man stood inches from Tommy, his hands gripping Tommy's shoulders firmly. His face was sunken with exhaustion and hunger; a vast smile overtook his face. A smile you would recognize anywhere. 

He looked just as he had twenty years ago, only now his hair was significantly longer and his beard gray. His face was now littered with wrinkles, just as yours was. A telltale sign that time had, in fact, passed, that the world fell apart right in front of your eyes. Your fingers dug into your thigh. You surely would've drawn blood if not for the layer of denim protecting your skin. You knew you were grieving, but hallucinations seemed extreme. You took a hesitant step forward, still on the opposite end of the street. 

Maria beckoned for you. Your name seemingly catching Tommy's attention as he turned towards you. As the men stood side-by-side, it was impossible to deny. Their likeness evoked something in you— realization. You weren't dreaming, you weren't hallucinating. He was there, just a yard away: Joel Miller. His gaze found yours, eyes searching your face in disbelief. Your name left his mouth like a question, but it sounded like a prayer. 

He stepped forward as if he was testing the waters. You repeated his action, "Joel?" A smile broke across his face once again, causing you to break into a sprint. He jogged forward, careful not to slip on the icy gravel. Tears began streaming down your face, their warmth countering the icy chill. Before you could slow down, your body collided with his. His arms were tense, his hold fastening around you. You'd only dreamt of this moment for two decades. 

You weren't sure how long you stood like that. Head nestled firmly against his chest, tears staining his leather coat. His gloved fingers gently grasped your chin, pulling your face from its sanctuary: "Baby... Fuck, I can't believe it." His eyes searched your face for any sign of unease. He could find nothing but pure joy: "You found me. I searched for you, Joel Miller, for 16 years. And you found me." 

Joel let out a breathy chuckle, cut off as you captured his lips in a velvety kiss. At first, it was chaste.— A silent admission of consolation, twenty years in the making. You ran your tongue across his bottom lip, prompting him to groan as he opened his mouth to deepen the kiss. After a moment, a loud cough erupted from behind you. You reluctantly pull away, your forehead resting against his. Your hands cupped his cheeks, eyes glassy with relief and adoration: "After all this time?" Joel leans forward to place a gentle kiss on the corner of your mouth, "Would wait forever f'you, Darlin'." 

© 2023 fragilefable do not plagiarize, translate, or repost my writing to any other site.

divider by @saradika

[wren-kitchens]

so shiver, but shiver with a friend

1034 words

the boat is creaking. that's not even remotely abnormal; the boat spends more time creaking than it does staying silent—gem built it so it would do that. sure, it took a lil' getting used to, but it didn’t take long for the rhythmic rocking and gentle creaking to become conducive to sleep, and now gem finds it far more difficult to sleep in silence. after all, silence means something is wrong—the engine rumbles if it's working, the waves splash against the sides of the boat if it's still afloat. a creaky boat means gem is still alive, and the boat is still running. but this isn’t your average ambient creaking. like she said, gem knows the noises of her little fishing boat like the back of her hand, and this is not a normal creak. this is a suspicious creak. and- sure, that might sound silly, but have you memorised every sound this boat can make? didn’t think so. 

this fic exists for two reasons, which are stiff stiffyck's love for qpr elven duo (gem and scar) and also me overthinking scar's wheelchair worldbuilding in the hermitcraft world

this could be a lot better but alas I have been consumed by depression writers block, so honestly i'm just proud this ended up as a finished fic

btw this is one of my first times writing wheelchairs, and whilst it is fantasy so things are gonna be a little different, I would appreciate if someone could tell me if I did something wrong/insensitively!

the boat is creaking.

that's not even remotely abnormal; the boat spends more time creaking than it does staying silent—gem built it so it would do that. sure, it took a lil' getting used to, but it didn’t take long for the rhythmic rocking and gentle creaking to become conducive to sleep, and now gem finds it far more difficult to sleep in silence. after all, silence means something is wrong—the engine rumbles if it's working, the waves splash against the sides of the boat if it's still afloat. a creaky boat means gem is still alive, and the boat is still running.

but this isn’t your average ambient creaking. like she said, gem knows the noises of her little fishing boat like the back of her hand, and this is not a normal creak. this is a suspicious creak. and- sure, that might sound silly, but have you memorised every sound this boat can make? didn’t think so.

anyway, all of this to say that gem is pretty sure someone is on her boat at the middle of the night for what she deeply hopes are not nefarious reasons. although, she cannot think of any reason someone would be sneaking onto her boat at two in the morning—nefarious or otherwise. maybe it's grian trying to lag some things out of her chests? but why on earth he wouldn't do that in the day when she wasn't on board, gem has no clue.

there's a new noise now, one that suggests against the idea of nefarious deeds, but only confuses gem more: a kind of squeaking, like a rubber ring being taken off, or an air mattress being slept on. okay, that doesn’t rule anything out at all, and only serves to make everything far more complicated. who is bringing a rubber something onto her boat at 2am? what is happening here?

overtaken by an amounting curiosity to whatever the hell is actually going on, gem climbs out of bed and pads softly along the floorboards in her slippers to her door. she regrets not installing one of those peepholes, because now she actually has to engage with the something that's happening outside in order to investigate. gem is sure there isn’t anything especially dangerous that could be going on, but she pulls out her sword preemptively as she opens the door slowly to find-

to find..

well, she's not sure what she's found.

"gem!" says a cheery scar, who is. on her boat? how is he on her boat- he uses a wheelchair, and the boat is in the middle of the river.

except- no, hang on, his wheelchair seems to be completely lacking wheels, which gem would argue is the main point of a wheelchair. where the wheels should otherwise be, there are floatation devices—seemingly rubber, which explains the noises gem was hearing earlier—in patented hotguy colours, so she assumes that's intentional. okay, that's- that sure is something.

"you-" gem scrambles for any words to express how bizarre this situation is and fails miserably. "you’re on my boat." is all she manages. void, it is way too late (early?) to be trying to figure this out.

"I am on your boat!" scar says, looking rather proud of himself. it's kind of sweet, to be fair—even as it only adds to the crazy situation. "y’know, I didn't think i’d actually manage it. last time I tried, I sunk."

gem blinks, giving up on making sense of the situation now and letting herself just go with the bizarre. "yeah, I can imagine why scar." she gestures at the rubber wheels (they look a bit like wheels, anyway). "how did you get those?"

"cub helped me!" scar smiles, as if this was a normal conversation to be having. does he even realise how strange this situation is, or is this just normal for him now? "see- you know how my chair has an elytra mode?"

"uh huh."

"well, now it has a swimming mode!" scar says, and he clicks a button on the underside of the seat. within an instant, the floatation devices deflate, replaced swiftly by the regular wheels. "ta da!"

"that- I mean, that's very cool." gem says, and she means it, despite how unenthusiastic she knows she must sound. in her defence, it is the middle of the night. "I just- why are you here?"

something changes in scar's expression immediately, and gem panics a little until scar says meekly, "it- okay, well. now it sounds silly."

gem snorts. "because showing off your inflatable wheelchair at two in the morning is normal?" she tilts her head, and her voice is fond when she says, "you know you can tell me anything, right?"

a smile tugs at the corners of scar's lips, and gem feels something warm in her chest to see it. "I know, I know." he hesitates for a second, before giving a huff of exasperation. "I wanted a hug." scar admits, glancing at the floor.

"wh- scar." gem finds herself beginning to smile. "do you really think I would ever turn down a hug from you?"

scars grin is almost shy as he opens his arms, and gem practically falls into them, burying her face in his jacket. man, she has missed hugs from scar; she loves the way they fit together so well, like pieces of a puzzle, perfectly matched to one another. there are very few places where gem feels entirely at home—she's been pretty much everywhere, so she knows what home feels like—and scar is closer to home than any place has ever felt to her.

before she knows it, scar has scooted forward just enough to unbalance her, and she lands on top of him. gem scoffs playfully as scar laughs to himself, holding her closer.

"I can't hug you properly if you’re stood up, y’know." scar mumbles into her hair.

gem rolls her eyes, fond as anything. "well, i’m not complaining." she's quiet for a moment, letting herself appreciate the moment—breathing it all in. "I love you." gem murmurs.

scar squeezes her, and gem can almost hear his smile when he says, "I love you too."

[nullusreimorio]

Degrees of Lewdity AU: Actor AU

Yes, you heard that right, folks! DoL:ActAU will now be a thing in my blog.

Re-reading this made my brain go BRRRR, because in my head a random person getting their costume's head off is that funny, and from there it all spiraled down.

The Whitney breaks Syd's glasses scene in particular is stuck in my head, because I imagine that at some point, right before Whit can grab the glasses, Syd would scream to wait, making Whit shit himself cuz dude what is happening. The director screams cut, of course. "I'm so sorry, these are my real glasses-" while laughing, and taking them off to give into custody before putting on the props, with Whitney just wheezing in the background.

The genderbent version of LIs would mostly be people that really resemble each other, except for the Kylar duo. They are twins who love to scare other people by just staring at them (it is a running inside joke on set).

Bailey is actually a sweet parental figure off-character, always making sure he didn't actually hurt the other actors (think Jason Isaac in Harry Potter as he switches between the cruel Lucius Malfoy and actually caring for Tom Felton, asking him if he's ok and apologizing when he did in fact hurt him by accident)

Another running gag on set is Harper just.. being there. Smiling at everyone with cold eyes, bombing pictures and selfies. Sometimes they stay in the background of the scene, looking directly at the camera. They say it's funnier to stay in character. Off-character they are very fun to be around, but they enjoy unsettling people. Them and the Kylars are sometimes banned from being in the studio if the scene doesn't need them.

GH got tangled up in the fly system. Everyone laughed and took pictures and videos, but promptly eliminated them at GH's request. They are shy.

The Averys enjoy their role very much. What they don't enjoy is having to drink grape juice or scented water instead of actual alcohol. They do get a nice glass of wine once off-set are over.

Whenever the Wrens are in the studio, F!Whit, M!Robin, the Wrens, F!BW, the Edens, F!Avery and the Baileys get a bit too much into playing cards. Blackjack, Durak, Scopa, Rummy, Machiavelli... the list could go on. They always manage to rope technicians to play with them as well.

Everyone hates the Kylars because their makeup doesn't need much time, while everyone else (ESPECIALLY GH, BW and IW) need enough time to always look polished/roughed up, depending on the situation.

M!Jordan is actually atheist, and whenever he has to talk like a true Christian guy, once his line is over he mocks himself. He enjoys wearing his costume off-set just for shits and giggles, and other actors often visit him in the confessional just to say "I'm sorry daddy, I've been naughty~" "Jail for a hundred years. NEXT"

F!Jordan and Ivory Wraith are actually cousins, and sometimes M!Jordan and Ivory Wraith swap costumes to see if there is any difference other than Jordan's massive tits.

Aaaand that's it, for now! As of now this is how far my brain thought while in the middle of exams, I will slowly add more into it. I don't know if it was already done, but thinking about these jackasses actually play-pretending makes me feel better ^^

[amuelia]

watched the first season of star wars rebels a while ago and the tales of the empire trailer reminded me of it again so ive been rewatching :) heres some mildly unserious modern/human au doodles (hera, kanan, chopper, ezra, sabine, zeb, the grand inquisitor)

never watched anything beyond s1 so thats the setting this takes place in

[bikananjarrus]

the way that, if you took away her armor and the two or three lines referencing it, you would literally never know that sabine was a mandalorian in the ahsoka show. filoni completely stripped her of her culture (and personality) and never gave her a meaningful scene talking about the destruction of mandalore or her family. all in favor of giving her a bad and poorly executed padawan storyline, because apparently a character can’t be interesting unless they’re a jedi

[reislesbian]

SW Rebels characters in the Clone Wars style>>>

[minamill]

Family album

details under the cut

[rebouks]

Previous // Next

Hi Alex!

I don’t think it’s stupid or cheesy to miss someone, I miss you too! Going back to normal after being on holiday is always horrible, especially after this one, and especially having to go back to school, I’m not a big fan! Do you go to school too? I wanted to ask if you did but I couldn’t… it’s nothing personal, by the way, sometimes I just can’t speak to people and I don’t really know why. I thought it was my decision if I did or didn’t before I met you but maybe not. My parents n’ the teachers at school call it selective mutism but I won’t bore you with all that crap.

I can’t see your new teeth but they grow fast so maybe next time! If they don’t maybe you could get some gold one’s like your dad has, unless you don’t wanna look like a pirate lol.. my littlest sister has four teeth now, and I have all my big teeth! I haven’t counted the twins though cos they’d probably bite me if I tried haha!!

Ava is the tiny one with the blonde pigtails! She’s cute but she still sleeps and poops a lot haha, she’s sorta chill though and definitely doesn’t cry as much as Wren and Byrd used to (have you noticed we’re all named after birds yet? I guess my parents thought it was cute since our last name is Finch) Wren’s the ginger one with plaits! She’s pretty funny but she’s super grumpy sometimes and likes to bite and kick (not me though, she loves me) I think it’s cos she’s tired a lot cos she never sleeps at night, kinda like dad.. they’re twins but Byrd is way different, I couldn’t get a picture of him cos he kept running off, he’s crazy like that but he’s super snuggly and loves playing doctor! He likes to pretend to break my legs so I can’t go anywhere then fix them for me haha. Brothers and sisters are fun but they can be a pain in the butt sometimes! We have a cat called Lou too, his full name is Toulouse and he likes to bring us leaves from the garden and scream about ‘em, and he loves stealing food when you’re not looking.

Dad’s been teaching mom how to cook cos she sucks at it (don’t tell her I said that though cos I always pretend it’s not THAT bad) she’s sorta getting better though so I suppose the whole practice makes perfect thing pays off eventually. I got a school project to make a lame volcano that I didn’t wanna do as well, but my parents made me do it anyway.. we all know that real volcanoes aren’t full of baking powder and vinegar though so I dunno if there was much point to it but they seemed to think it was important so I did it anyway, at least I got a picture of it “going off” I guess. No one likes homework, even if it’s supposed to be fun, right?!

It’s cool you set Amber free!! I’m sure she’s happier wherever she is now so I guess you could just think of that when you miss her? The rocks are way cooler anyway! My aunt Aspen has loads of crystals too, sometimes she even charges them in the sun or the full moon.. I keep forgetting to ask her why but I’ll try and remember so I can tell you next time!

Hahaa your poor dad with those birds! I’ll definitely keep the picture cos it’s hilarious, Wren found it the funniest but don’t worry, I’ll keep the picture safe from her sticky hands! I have a hiding spot in the attic for all the stuff I don’t want them touching. I guess birdwatching is sorta fun sometimes but you’ve gotta be quiet (easy for me I guess.. hah!) I’m not sure there’s any other birds round here other than seagulls since we live right next to the sea, those are the ones you can hear the most anyway cos they never shut up! My dad jokes that he used to be a seagull in a past life cos he’s loud and greedy like they are lol.. he’s been building me a treehouse too, I bet that’d be good for birdwatching!! It’ll be super cool once he’s finished but it’s taking ages cos he mostly does it all by himself, I try n’ help sometimes but I’m still too small to carry or lift most things.. I wanna be as strong as him one day, he can build and fix almost anything (he swears a lot during it though haha!) Do you ever think about what you wanna be when you grow up? I don’t really think about that sorta stuff cos working sounds boring, especially if it’s as lame as school!!

I’m ten, by the way! How old are you and when’s your birthday? Mine’s February 22nd. I don’t think I have a favourite food, anything my dad makes is amazing cos he’s a good cook and my mom makes the BEST pancakes! We’re always stuffed after dinner but dad says (lies) that pudding goes in a different part of your stomach so there’s always room for cake haha.. I think I like it best when he makes spicy food but Wren and Byrd hate it so he doesn’t make stuff like that too often. It’s fun to see how much you can eat before your mouth feels like it’s on fire and I’ve decided I’m gonna beat him one day so he better watch out!!!

I didn’t know what to write at first but I guess I sorta ended up writing quite a lot since I had some catching up to do! Are you and your dad on holiday in the tower or are you living there for now? It sorta sounded like you’ve been there a long time, where do you usually live? What kinda stuff does your dad dig up for work? It’d be cool if he dug up dinosaur bones!! I watched something like that recently and they were HUGE!

It’s hard to think of questions on the spot but you can talk about anything you want too! I probably owe you a million answers as well so you can ask anything you want too! I had fun reading your letter and I’m glad we can be pen-pals even if we don’t get to see each other! Maybe next time we meet in person I’ll be able to say something, but writing would still be fun too so I guess it doesn’t really matter, right?

Love Robin c:

ps. I’m keeping the funny photo of you yelling at your dad and there’s nothing you can do about it!!

pps!! I don’t have a way to print out photos yet otherwise I’d have sent some new ones. Dad gave me an old polaroid ages ago but it’s still broken, his friend said he might be able to fix it though so hopefully I can use that next time. Mom said you can have some of our old ones and the ones from her disposable camera whilst we were on holiday for now though so I’ll send those to you as soon as they come back!

[words-with-wren]

Chapter Two! Stan’s POV this time heheheh ^-^

@jellynut I feel like I might get annoying if I tag you in every chapter so let me know if you want a tag or not!

[sanctumfilth]

combining stuffing and ovi... Your partner stuffing you to the gills with "caviar" that turns out to actually be real eggs that start growing once eaten.

Your belly twists and aches as the tiny eggs start to grow. They don't get very big, maybe the biggest is an inch in diameter, but there's thousands of them, and you can feel them all starting to swell up hours after having eaten them now. Your gut groans and gurgles as it's forcefully expanded. Who knows how big it'll get. The eggs are way down in there, with no escape except to wait for your body to expel them. And we both know that's gonna be a long process.

[aburningconstellation]

i’m gonna go absolutely feral when i find the first “they didn’t think to build a brig on the eye of sion so sabine has to stay in shin’s quarters & there’s only one bed” fic on ao3

[inkyquince]

Shared Three Ways: Part 2

Remy x Wren x Male!PC x Niki

After you have Wren to keep you company at the estate, it feels like things are slowly getting better. Even if Niki is still strange towards you and Remy is an antisocial prick, at least you have someone to fall back on. But something still lurks underneath the surface...

Content Warning. Piss Drinking (Reader isn't drinking it). Stepcest. Dubcon (Reader has been drinking but gets really into it). Implied and obvious voyeurism. Camera recording of sexual acts. Alcohol. Also I lied, Part 2 is Niki centric and Remy is for part 3. Then Papa is part 4. 5.1k words.

(part 1/ part 2/ part 3/ part 4)

2 virginities remaining. 

Dawn had just about started to breach the skyline, early enough for the birds to struggle to wake up, but four people on the estate were wide awake. 

From your parent’s room, where your soon-to-be stepfather was sleeping, facing the wall, with your mother snuggled up against his back, arm curled possessively over his hip, down a separate flight of stairs, to where their brood slept. Or, where they were supposed to be sleeping. Niki was up in his red room, but for once, he wasn’t developing any photos. No, he was meticulously slipping the memory card out of his busted camera, making sure it was unharmed as he flicked the desk lamp on and examined it. With a grateful sigh, he set it down to pick up his older, spare camera from inside his desk drawer. Discarding the old card, which stored pictures of his mother and baby pictures of him and Remy, he put the new one in, and lovingly looked over his new collection of treasures. 

Across the hall from Niki’s bedroom, was Remy’s, with his door wide open and his bed deserted. 

Down from where he should have been sleeping, he stood, peeking in through the last door of note, that was open just enough to let warm, watery light creep out. His own breathing and jerking of his slicked cock almost drowned out the sound of moans and the slapping of skin against wet skin. Remy stared through the gap, one hand gripping his balls tightly, as if trying to stop them from cumming, his other hand focused on milking the tip of his cock, thumb digging into his weeping slit. Blood dripped into the precum, mixing with the milky substance, as his canine sunk deep into his bottom lip, fighting against letting his grunting get any louder. 

And inside? Inside, Wren had your ankles by your head, folding you neatly against your plush covers and splitting your ass open on his dick, yet again. Everytime you got a bit too loud, with a breathy moan or a whine, the farmhand greedily smothered your mouth with his, breathing through his nose just so his tongue could taste yours. The wet kisses you two exchanged didn’t make Remy feel dirty for watching, intruding on a private moment between you two. Neither did the way Wren playfully batted your hands away from your cock, chiding softly, gently, lovingly. Nor the way that Wren used you to reach his climax, gripping your hips and digging his thumbs into the dips, hammering into you harder and harder, becoming breathless. 

But it was the way you two periodically would chuckle into each other’s mouth, Wren’s cussing and snort as his foot slipped and he nearly fell off the bed, the way you two would take breathers and whisper something to each other before muffling your laughter. It made his teeth grind. 

He wasn’t a cuck. If it was anyone else, if it was Niki? Then he’d rip Wren off of him. He’d kick him in the stomach until he threw up and then he would start threatening. Branding, tied up for the farmhands to fuck. Then take Wren back to his room and ride him properly. He wouldn’t have watched until his toes felt numb, his head aching from his induced slow breathing so he wasn’t too loud. He would be transfixed by the way your cock lay, unattended, useless, drooling on your stomach as you whined for Wren to touch it. 

Just the memory of your cock suddenly expelling so much cum, all over your stomach had him finally tip over the edge. He cupped his hand in front of his cockhead, catching nearly all of his own cum, forced to bite down on the edge of his shirt to keep quiet and not to stain any of his clothes. A few drops rolled down his palm and landed in front of your door. Remy glanced inside for a moment, to Wren kissing along your throat, before backing away and slipping away to the bathroom diagonal from your room. You didn’t get an ensuite, like he did and for the first time, he was happy about it. 

Shutting the door behind him, he exhaled low and heady, letting his shirt, crumpled with saliva, fall back over his lean stomach. Remy went over to the toilet, about to let his cum drip freely from his fingers into the bowl, before freezing. He turned back towards the sink, ignoring his reflection that showed a ruffled young man, with coloured cheeks and saliva streaked lips. 

He eyed your face wash, your mouthwash, your toothpaste… His cock twitched with interest as he reached for your toothbrush. 

The next morning rolled around slowly, and then all at once. It seemed like only seconds passed between Wren pressing kisses just behind your ear, down to the nape of your neck, and him yanking on his jeans as the whole house slowly came to life, creaking of your mom and step dad walking around upstairs, the slamming of Remy’s door and the pitter patter of Niki’s quick feet. 

“You’re making me lose track of time up here.” He gave a rush of laughter, grinning at you as he made sure his cock was out of the way before he hurriedly zipped up his trousers. “Same time tonight? Maybe see you at lunch? Tell you what, slip away from breakfast and I’ll be at the stables-” 

“Has anyone told you that you’re fucking insatiable?” You grumbled half heartedly from your place on the bed, slowly getting the feeling back into your thighs. 

“Nope.” Wren shrugged on his dusty suspenders and pinged them against his chest as he emphasised the ‘p’. “Must be whatever makes that ass so addictive.” 

You snorted softly, the faint memories of him tangled up with Remy probing at your good mood, as if tempting to sour the morning. Something must have shown along the curve of your lips, or the look in your eyes because the farm boy immediately crawled over to you, across the bed, insisting on kissing along your exposed skin. 

“Are you the jealous type? Cause that’s pretty hot.” You batted at his chest as he tried to capture your sore lips. “And if you are, just keep in mind I’m a cuddler. I like to stay the night and see if I can hot dog my dick to keep it warm.” 

You wrinkled your nose before snorting again, this time with laughter at the image. 

“Gross. Anyway, pretty sure everyone else kicks you out before you can start cuddling.” There was an underlying challenge in your tone, as if egging him to refute your claim. 

He just looked at you, his easy grin turning more into a half sneer before he fixed it into a smirk. 

“Believe what you want.” Wren finally responded, pulling his sturdy, dusty boots on. His shoulders were tense with displeasure. “I’ll see you whenever, I guess-” 

Grown tired of his melodrama, you hooked your finger into his mouth mid-snide-farewell and, like hooking a fish’s cheek, yoinked him to face you. 

“I don’t care that Remy kicks you out before you get to try and squish your dick between his ass cheeks. Just don’t lie to me, alright? Or, omit shit. Just be frank with me.” You made sure to keep eye contact. 

Wren’s posture slowly relaxed. In fact, seemingly agreeing with your request, raised his eyebrows and sucked on your finger with a faux look of seduction. You quickly yanked your finger out of his mouth, letting forth a boyish stream of his chuckles, freckled nose scrunching as you wiped the saliva off, onto your sheets. 

“I could make a really bad joke about how can I be ‘Frank’ when I’m ‘Wre’- nevermind, I wanna stay in your good graces.” He quickly leaned over and kissed you on the mouth, his fingers coming up to brush your cheek. “Just wander outside and I’ll be sure to be ready to drop trousers and see to you.” 

You dropped back against your pillows as Wren, looking oh-so happy with himself, slowly opened your door to peek out. He was about to slide out when his eyebrows shot up into his messy blond waves and quickly shut the door, instead practically diving under your bed, knocking into your suitcase with a loud cuss. You barely had time to ask him what the hell when your door suddenly opened without warning, and you quickly wrenched your sheets up to cover yourself properly. 

“Give it back!” Niki stood there, ruffled and unkempt, looking like he barely slept a wink. “Give it!” 

“Nik- Wha-” You barely managed before the smaller boy was on you, uncaring about your half naked state, gripping your wrists with freakish strength, unexpected from him. 

“I know you fucking took it! You were in my room, you took it! I didn’t do anything wrong, they’re just candids! Give it back you fucking thief!” Niki, despite his anger, was pale with panic. 

“What the fuck are you talking about?” You finally barked back, trying to push him back. 

“You’re not…You’re not allowed…” Niki huffed, as if struggling to breath through his temper. “I’ll fucking kill… You… Give…” 

His panic crept through his wrath, and he slowly stopped trying to hit you, his floppy box-dyed hair sticking to his skin. Niki slid off the side of the bed, and landed on his ass on the carpeted floor by your bed, breathing heavy. A part of you wondered if Wren had a good view of his ass right now, but instead quickly covered yourself properly with your sheet before swinging your legs out of bed, resting them against Niki’s shoulder. 

“Hey… Niki?” Your voice was very gentle, as if anything louder than a polite murmur would set him off again. “I… I didn’t take anything from you, I swear. You can check my room if it makes you feel better.” 

You didn’t know why you were being so polite with one of the people that had made your stay so bad, ignoring you at every turn and obviously not attending “family” meals with the rest of you. Something about his pure blind panic, and the tears shining against his dull eyes made you feel sorry for the guy. 

“... Really?” He finally said, fighting back a hiccup. 

“Really. I don’t even know where your room is.” You tried for a smile which Niki seemed to stare at. 

“... Yeah. You don’t.” He said, more to himself. He wiped a ratty jumper sleeve against his eyes and breathed hard through his nose. “... Sorry.” 

Something inside you celebrated. You felt like you gained a bit of mileage with him, even if it did cost you a peaceful morning and several hits to your chest. You offered some of the tissues in the box to him, hoping that he hadn’t seen the scrunched up ones from when Wren was cleaning both you and him up. 

He took a few and dabbed his eyes. 

“Thanks.” He muttered, pushing back his hair, only for it to flop back into his face. 

“No problem.” You put them back, jerking a bit when you felt a finger poke your heel. Fuckin’ Wren. “I’m sure whatever you’re missing has just fallen down somewhere or something. Yknow?” 

Niki gave you an inscrutable look, the tip of his nose slightly red. 

“... Maybe…” He stuffed the tissues into his pocket. “I’ll check. Sorry about… Y’know.” 

“No worries,” You lied. “... I hope next time you feel like you can come in and talk, instead of… Y'know. Hitting first.” 

Niki gave you a small smile, amused. 

“Maybe.” He repeated, softer this time. He looked so docile, it made you feel sorry for him for the first time. 

“Yeah, maybe.” You echoed. “Maybe you could knock and come in and I’ll be a cooler big brother than Remy and let you vent?” 

You felt in an instant that you took it too far. Niki’s face immediately flushed and he gasped out something that you couldn’t even decipher. Then he ran for the door and slammed it shut behind him with a loud bang. 

“Jesus fucking Christ.” Wren poked his head out from underneath your bed. “1. What the fuck was all that about? And 2, I think you fucked it at the end there.” 

“Yes. Thank you, Wren.” You rubbed at your eyes, already feeling weary despite the fact it was barely 9am. “Wasn’t it time for you to scatter?” 

Wren pulled himself out from underneath your bed, dusting off his ass. 

“I’m just sad that I didn’t get to find anything fun under there. Like your diary where you talk about how much you looove me and my dick. Or dildos. Or maybe girly underwear that you like to wear.” 

“Wren-” 

“Yeah, yeah, sunshine, I’m going.” Instead of trying the door again, he shimmied open your window and slung one long leg out, giving you a parting grin. “You’re also nicer than me. I’d have pried into what he lost that would have caused that crybaby melt down.” 

Before you could reply, he promptly dropped down from your window. You heard the sound of him landing on a balcony below your window before the creak of the old vine being weighed down. Then the crunch of gravel. Finally, the cheery whistle of him walking away from the house, towards his cottage. 

The day passed normally. You threw out your toothpaste because it tasted weird before going downstairs to the rest of them, your mother picking and then pecking at small pieces of grapefruit, next to your stepfather who reads through a newspaper, cup of black coffee steaming next to his hand, where a lit cigarette winked its orange eye at you. Remy was down here too, tearing a piece of toast to pieces with his fingers but, thankfully, ignoring you this time. 

Your mom started chatting the moment she saw you, perking up and talking about “taking her boys” out shopping in town, blind to the disgusted look on Remy’s face. You coughed a bit, partially from embarrassment but also the smoke curling from the patriarch's section. He glanced at you and stubbed out his cigarette, instead taking a sip of coffee. 

“Sadly,” He finally said, folding up his newspaper, silencing your mother with just one word when you were used to it taking a small barrage of polite noises and coughs for her to quieten down. “There is too much to be done right now. It’s going to be especially busy for Remy. Niki also needs to have more lessons added before he can graduate. And…” 

He turned his eyes, steely and inscrutable, to you. 

“I’m sure he’ll find something to do while his brothers are busy. I heard you’ve taken up riding lessons with Wren.” 

You struggled not to joke on the juice you were sipping and Remy threw down his torn piece of toast and stood up. Your stepfather’s face remained impassive but there was something amused deep in his eyes.

“Oh, riding! That’s good! Girls love a good rider.” Your mother gave you a soft, dreamy smile, lost in the fantasy of her with her own horse rider husband and you marrying a girl who apparently liked exactly the same thing. 

Remy muttered a vague ‘excuse me’ and stalked off as you wondered which one of your step brothers decided to make your morning just a bit worse by telling your step father these things. 

So life dragged on. Niki shut away, either in his bedroom, or elsewhere in the house. Remy ignored you, the only contact being when you two passed each other in the halls when he would ram his shoulder into yours and let you stumble in the wall. Your mother organising outings that she was excited to ‘bring her boys’ on, and your mother’s husband usually out in the fields or shut up in his office. You also noticed with alarm that your mother had started to rest her hand against her belly with a soft, content sigh. The one time you had to use her bathroom while she was with a personal tailor to make you a suit for the wedding (you had already put her fiance into the category of stepfather, knowing the only way the union not to happen at this state is for him to back out, which he didn’t seem interesting in), you noticed a stash of pregnancy tests in the cabinet under the sink. You felt dread prickle at the back of your neck and when you came out, your mother checked your forehead for a fever. The tailor quickly took your measurements but fled the estate, saying that he’ll just send samples of the fabric ahead. 

The event left a bad taste in your mouth, one that you couldn’t explain. It preyed on you more than you knew it should have. 

“Divorce is easy, babies are forever.” Wren hiccuped from his place next to you, abandoning his cards for another swig from the dusky bottle you two had been sharing, more on his insistence than anything else. 

“Amazing.” One of his friends hiccuped, squinting at his own line up. “Any other zingers up that sleeve, or those aces you pretend to win fair and square with.” 

Two others cackled and Wren flicked one of the extinguished butts of squashed cigarettes at the other one. 

“So, the big man is aiming to squeeze out a… Fourth-” 

“Third-” Wren interjected. 

“-Kid. Good for him. No offence kid.” The one to your right burped, pressing the back of his hand against his mouth before taking another swig. “At least this one is going to be from in-wedding lock.” 

“Wedlock?” 

“Cockblock?” 

“That doesn’t even-” 

“Anyway!” The one opposite you interjected. “You sure that your mam is already pregnant? Or just trying?” 

“I dunno.” You shuffled your own cards again, the little numbers just squiggles before your fuzzy eyes. God, you should stop letting Wren give you alcohol. “It’s just weird.” 

“You can say that again.” One of them was eyeing down the lip of the bottle suspiciously. “Imagine having a screaming shitting pissing monster running around that isn’t what’s his fuck, the one with the rat name. Oi, you didn’t spit into my drink did you?” 

“Oh, what if I did? It isn’t the first time you’ve had another man’s saliva in your mouth.” 

“Hey, I didn’t notice the bulge until we were leaving the pub-” 

“I’m not saying it’s bad, Wren has done worse than kiss another man-” 

“What the fuck you mean worse-” 

“I didn’t mean it like that!” 

“I need to go piss.” You finally said, standing up slowly, using the table to maintain some stability, only to stumble when Wren slapped your ass the first chance he got. “Hey!” 

“Sorry, I’ll kiss it better later.” He grinned, this time just pinching your thigh, before turning back to the card game. “Were we talking about me kissing men? I’ll show you more if you want.” 

“Yeah? Do I have to pay to watch you fuck-” 

“Why don’t we shut up and continue with the game?” 

The door swung shut on that good idea. Their bathroom was out of commission, with the missing friend having passed out, head mostly in the toilet bowl, so for the last 45 minutes everyone else had been going outside to piss and come back in. You took a long, deep breath of crisp, chilled air, ignoring the gentle throb from your bladder for a few moments to enjoy the refreshing breeze before fumbling with your belt. 

Your head swam thickly with the amount of drinks you had in such a short time with minimal food- you once again skipped dinner to hang out with Wren and that decision caught up to you stupidly quickly. You didn’t even notice a smaller figure peeking out at you around the corner. Not until they shut their video camera with a soft click. You blinked, glancing over and seeing Niki crouching underneath one of the windows to the cottage, clutching his camera close to his chest. 

“Hey, Nik.” You slurred, brain far too foggy to register anything weird about this. 

“Hi.” He whispered back, all bug eyed and flushed. 

You went back to fighting with your belt, not noticing his big stare, his mouth slowly parting to swipe his tongue along his lips. Finally getting it unbuckled, you fumbled for your cock and slipped it free from your trousers and gave a soft groan as you finally got to piss into the bushes, resting your forehead against the side of the cottage. The sound of urine hitting the ground and leaves seemed so distant to you, at first you didn’t notice it ceasing  and instead it sounded like it was hitting another liquid. You didn’t notice anything until you heard a soft whine. 

Opening your eyes, you fully believed that you were hallucinating at first, a combination of too much drink, not enough food, and something Wren had you smoke that you really hoped was weird weed. You blinked a few times at the scene before you could even make sense of it. 

Niki, with his camera abandoned at his knees, had crawled forward, his fingers digging into the dirt and his cock straining at his trousers, a small drop of precum seeping through the fabric. His eyes were closed, and his mouth opened, wide enough to catch the stream of piss you had been aiming at the ground, now gathering rapidly on his tongue. Only a few droplets dribbled free from his lips. You didn’t even grasp what was happening fully to pull away or do anything. Even then, what would you even do? You could just stare until your bladder was fully empty and only a few drops slipped past your slit. Niki slowly opened his eyes, mouth still full and closed his lips, refusing to break eye contact with you. Then, with a pronounced sound, he swallowed. Then sighed, low and pleasured. 

You still said nothing, mouth open just a bit and swaying on your feet. He obviously wasn’t put off by this, leaning forward and giving your slit a few kitten licks, as if cleaning the head free of any remaining droplets. He made soft moans with every lick, almost pornographic in their utterance. 

Your cock started to get hard at the stimulation, despite all you had to drink. The moment Niki felt it perking up, he gave an excited little gasp, his eyes closing shut again before taking your cockhead into his mouth, sucking gently. The sound was wet and sloppy, with his soft whines growing louder. Even when it was just the head getting stimulated, it was easy to make you stupidly hard, the little amount of blood that was already mostly alcohol, immediately going from your head to your crotch. You knotted your fingers into his hair, putting weight on Niki as he slurped on your dick more, moaning louder. 

“N-Niki…” You groaned, his dyed locks so soft in your grip, your head swimming, the world around you tilting, and everything feeling so good as he gripped the back of your thighs. 

“Big brother.” Niki pulled off your cock long enough to whine his words, before slapping it back against his tongue, letting the precum bridge between your slit and his taste buds. 

Those words shot through you. It made your balls tighten and throb. It made you twitch. Niki felt it, and you remembered back to that morning, when you playfully called yourself the better older brother. 

“Want it.” Niki whispered against your head, before sucking it back into his mouth, drool slipping down his chin. 

This was going beyond dizziness. Wren didn’t want you touching your cock, only using your ass to make you cum, and it all felt like too much stimulation. Too much alcohol, too much cold air, too much of a hot, tight mouth sucking at your dick desperately. You were going to cum, you needed to warn him. You opened your mouth. 

“Fuck.” You croaked out. Then came down his throat, hips stuttering as your balls emptied. 

Niki made a soft noise of surprise and then whined so loudly you were surprised no one inside came out, asking if you had stepped on a rabbit or something. His own body quivered, one hand dropping from the back of your thigh to cup his crotch as the fabric of his trousers darkened quickly, the smell of cum heady and heavy in the air. 

You managed to pull away from him, slumping against the wall of the cottage, panting hard. Niki was dabbing at his crotch, his ears red, but there was still an obvious tent in his jeans. You were too busy trying to catch your breath to notice him snatching up his camera and press record, focusing first on his stained trousers, before panning to your soft, flaccid cock and then up to your face. He held it there for a few moments, his hand creeping up to rest against your stomach then dropped it again. 

Finally, he settled it against a small stump next to the cottage and began to pull his trousers down, his erection springing up. 

“Come down here.” He whispered up at you, and you slowly blinked at him. Impatient, he gripped your belt loops and tugged you down, not caring about the sting of wood against your lower back as gravity dragged you. 

You landed with an undignified thump onto the hard ground, and Niki shuffled closer on his knees, reaching out to gently hold your head between his hands. His fingers eagerly caressed the skin of your temples, but you could only notice the fact his own cock, his own pretty, flushed, dripping cock was twitching in front of you, inches from your lips. 

Niki pressed your head back a bit, to look up at him, for the first time ever. His eyes, for the first time, reminded you of your stepfather, of Remy’s eyes, dark and glinting and full of promise. His bitten lips were parted, swollen from sucking you off, glinting with saliva. His hair flopping into his face, sticking to his sweating skin. He was horrifically pretty. 

Too lost in his face, you didn’t notice one of his hands dropping to grip the base of his cock, already throbbing with anticipation. 

“Suck it.” He whispered, eyes blown wide and abyssal. “Suck my cock, big brother.” 

It would be the first time. Wren often liked to have you kiss his cockhead before he pressed it into your ass, “for a good ride”. You had thought about it, being forced to take his girthy cock, but you two had yet to get around to it, even as Wren teased at the chance. But it sounded so deeply perverted coming from Niki’s pretty pink lips, with such a lewd nickname, more than it ever could coming from Wren and his innuendos and dirty talk. 

You immediately leaned forward and swallowed his slim cock down, taking him down to the base. You had nothing but liquid courage in your veins, you forgot gag reflexes were a thing. His cockhead hit the back of your throat and you started to gag immediately, but couldn’t pull your head away. Niki had curved his body over you, his hot breath hitting the top of your head and his arms wrapped around you. You didn’t even get a chance to start sucking, he had already started to hump into your mouth like a jack rabbit. 

“Oh, fuck. Oh….” He whined out, as you reached up to grip his thin hips, his pubes tickling the tip of your nose, even as closely trimmed as they were. “Yes… Yes…” 

You slowly shut your eyes with a low sigh, your gag reflex acting up less, giving you a chance to enjoy the taste of his precum infiltrating your mouth, salty and heady. You didn’t notice feeling Niki scramble for his camera, lifting it up to be level with your face as his cock fucked eagerly into your mouth, saliva coating it and your lips. The device shook in his unsteady hand but he refused to put it down, needing this, needing evidence, needing it all. 

You sucked, you stuck your tongue out a bit and swiped it along the base of his cock, nudging his balls. You switched between gentle and hard sucks, finding out Niki had all kinds of different sounds for everything you did. He whined and groaned and moaned and hissed through his teeth, nearly losing the gum he had kept hidden against the roof of his mouth. 

“Fuck… Fuck!” He whispered in between all of his musical noises. “Oh, god, I’m going to cum. I’m going to cum!” 

He gave you more warning than you did for him, but it was still a surprise when ropes of cum coated your tongue and slipped down your throat within seconds, and it was a miracle you didn’t choke on it. 

“Thank you…” You weren’t completely sure but you heard him whisper against your skin, panting hard. “Best big brother.” He added, almost dreamily. 

He slowly pulled out from your mouth, your lips and his cock glinting in the low light and tucked it back into his ruined jeans. You swallowed thickly, a part of you finding it funny that you finally got something warm to eat to balance out the alcohol. Niki hit stop on his camera and tucked it against his tummy, with a satisfied sigh. He wetted his lips with his tongue and slowly stood up, looking down at you with a strange, self satisfied crooked smile. 

“Come with me to my Red room.” He murmured, low and extending his hand. 

You only somewhat remembered the card game and Wren waiting inside of the cottage, but it didn’t seem real. The outside, the wind and the leaves and Niki felt real. His hand, warm, if somewhat sweaty, felt real, as you took it and he led you back to the house, his camera tucked under his arm as he gently swung your connected fingers. The low chatter from the dining room felt like a hazy dream as you and Niki ignored the doors leading to where the rest of the family ate. The carpet, when you both kicked off your shoes, underneath your feet felt real as he led you up, up, up, past the floor with your rooms, your parents rooms, up to the attic. 

The door swung shut behind you two, not slow enough for you both to notice someone following behind, but not quick enough for Remy not to spot that Niki was pulling you in for a sloppy kiss, bathed in red. 

The eldest son stared at the shut door, and heard the loud click of the lock turning. He ground his teeth together. 

Remy spat onto the ground in front of the attic door and went back downstairs, making up his mind. 

1 Virginity Remaining

[wren-kitchens]

it- to be clear, joel kind of knew from the start. 

he’s seen the way etho puts on that pathetic little pout, and that oh-so-sad voice that he knows doesn’t actually mean anything other than etho wants something and thinks joel will probably say no otherwise. joel noticed all of this immediately- it's not like etho's subtle about it, is he? in his defence, gem didn’t seem to notice anything out of the ordinary- or at least, she didn't mention it, so joel wasn't super sure if it actually meant anything weird. and- okay, yeah, fine- etho's stupid little voice and everything may be somewhat effective on him.

of course, joel did spot that mischievous little look on etho's face as he took joel's hand and led him to the bridge, because- well, how could you not? he didn’t seem to be up to anything awful, and he didn't look guilty- like that one time he tried to convince joel into giving him free glow ink. besides, he was still going on about how mean bdubs was to him, and joel didn’t really want to miss it; etho's very funny when he’s offended.

maybe it was a little bit his fault, because when etho started hanging back a little, joel sort of stepped in front of him on instinct. it's not like he died or anything- bdubs didn’t even die and he was standing right on the trap, so it's not like there was any consequence. but- yeah, joel didn’t actually consider that etho was backing away from a danger, he just kind of assumed he was nervous. which isn't far fetched- that guy seems to be constantly nervous about something or other in the life series. 

but- well, whilst gem was laughing at tango and bdubs, joel didn’t even think to be mad at etho for leading him into a trap—even if it was a shit one. frankly, he- well. it's really very stupid, actually, but- he was just. kind of glad to be holding etho's hand still. which is- that's not weird! y’know, they’re soulmates, he'll have you know; that's a normal thing for soulmates to do. if you think that's weird, go have a look at tango and jimmy- they’re the weird ones. not joel. he’s normal. 

gem made fun of him on the way back, because of course she noticed that they were holding hands. not that there's anything weird about it- gem is wrong here. it- she didn’t have a soulmate, so- y’know. she doesn’t know what normal soulmate stuff is. that's a her problem. 

anyway. she didn’t seem to see the way etho squeezed his hand when they were leaving, so. it's whatever.

[short-wooloo]

Yknow, a lot of the Sabine characterization problems in ahsoka (having act like an impulsive teenager when she's almost thirty and was never like that even when she was a teenager and had grown out of her negative teenager traits by the end of Rebels) could have been solved if "Sabine" was a different character

And this "not sabine" could have still been connected to Sabine

How

Adopted daughter

Have the role of Sabine in Ahsoka be taken by an adopted child of hers, someone young and impulsive, has heard stories of Ezra Bridger and how much her mother and her adopted family that is the Ghost crew misses him and wants nothing more than to bring him back to make her family complete again, to the point of making several dangerous mistakes

And it also would have fixed the bullshit "sabine has the force now" nonsense