#BUT THEN HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO FUNCTION AT MY SHIFT LATER?!

[rings-of-power-realm]

[sceletaflores]

come on into my bed with me (i know you want to)

pair: old man!logan howlett x fem!reader

wc: 4.1k

contains: 18+ SMUT MDNI, swearing, some sad vibes because i can't function without them, large age gap (but isn't that obvious by now? mid 20s/old as fuck), established relationship but only kind of, falls in the logan 2017 timeline but very loosely, LONGINGGGG, gratuitous nickname use (kid, baby, honey, ect), nasty dirty talk cause he's old and gross, not so dry humping, JUST THE TIP RAHHHH, porn w/o plot, no use of y/n.

nat’s note: this was heavily inspired by imogen heap's 'i am in love with you' because that song fucks so hard and it really gave me lots of old man logan vibes. i was just so overcome with nasty thoughts that the beat possessed me and i blacked out and listened to it on a constant repeat while i wrote this instead of doing my a&p work. kisses!

dividers by angel @saradika-graphics!

you can't sleep, logan left his door open...

Rain pelts at the smudged glass of your window, drops trailing down the span of the panes that you follow with your eyes.

It's been raining nearly all week, a rare thing in Mexico, especially somewhere as dry as Sonora.

You used to love the rain. You felt a special kind of comfort anytime night would come and there'd be a certain chill swirling through the air, that familiar scent of damp soil and wet stone rising as the first drops hit the ground.

In Sonora, rain is supposed to be a gift—a reprieve from the unrelenting heat, a chance for the dry earth to drink.

It should feel cleansing, like a reset of sorts, and maybe it would have a few months ago.

Now it just feels heavy, oppressive. Each raindrop splattering against the glass feels like a reminder of everything that's stuck, unmoving.

The soft noise of it was almost enough to lull you to sleep, but it was still no match for your wandering mind.

You’ve been finding yourself here a lot recently, shrouded in the scratchy sheets of your bed in the quiet dark encompassing your room, mind racing.

It was raining the first night he touched you.

You've been with Logan and Charles for nine months.

A runaway hitchhiker turned caretaker after you fled from the meaningless scraps of your life back in Texas.

Logan found you on the side of the highway coming back from a shift in El Paso. One stop with the hazards on and a hasty conversation through a rolled down window later, you were throwing your bags in the back of his limo and climbing into the front seat.

You didn't realize until much later that he never truly asked you to stay, or to care for Charles alongside him.

It was only supposed to be a temporary arrangement, a roof over your head in exchange for your help. Watch over his ailing father for a few days while he went out to get him more medicine, that's what you settled on.

Yet somehow, here you are, nine months later.

You cook meals in a dusty kitchen that always smells faintly of motor oil, listen to Charles’ stories about a world you’ll never fully grasp, and watch Logan patch himself up in grim silence after he’s returned from whatever trouble found him this time. 

It's strange how the days seemed to stretch endlessly, but the weeks have slipped past like a blink. You carved out a routine in this crumbling house in Sonora, built something that resembles a life even if it feels borrowed, like a second-hand coat that never quite fits right.

At first, you weren’t sure what kept you here. Maybe Charles. 

You warmed to him almost immediately, drawn in by his gentle demeanor and the way he seemed to see right through you without a hint of judgment. 

Even when his mind faltered, slipping into tangled memories or distant fragments of a life long past, he treated you with a kindness you hadn’t felt in years.

You’d come to think of him as a king, regal and noble. A king stripped of his castle, yet still wearing a crown, if ever so skewed—a king nonetheless.

You still aren’t sure, but you can’t shake the sense that leaving now would be like tearing off a scab—painful and unnecessary.

And then, one night, the rain came.

You remember it vividly, a torrent so sudden and unrelenting. The downpour soaking the dry dirt surrounding the plant. 

You couldn’t help yourself from wandering out, stood barefoot on the porch as the cool air nipped at the skin of your arms and legs.

“You’re gonna catch a cold standin’ out here.” Logan said from somewhere behind you, his voice rough and low after the silence of a long shift.

You hadn’t moved, hadn’t even glanced his way. “I like the rain.”

There was a beat of silence before he stepped closer, the warmth of his body radiating against your back. His hand had been hesitant at first, a brush of calloused fingers against your arm. 

You didn’t pull away.

The heat of his palm felt scalding, causing goosebumps to pebble along your damp skin. His thumb swiped across the circular scar just above your elbow, a cigarette burn, one of many.

He didn’t say anything as he turned and walked back into the house. You learned quickly that Logan’s not the type to fill silences with empty words, but you both knew something shifted.

He came into your room later that night. The squeaky mattress of your bed dipping under his weight as he slid his hand down your stomach, pausing just above the waistband of your shorts, a silent question.

He didn’t kiss you, but the rain pattering against the tin roof was enough to swallow your soft moans and gasps.

You settled into something undefined—a constant push and pull of need and silence. Logan touched you when he needed to, and you let him because you wanted to.

It wasn’t love, not then. It wasn’t even comfort. But it was connection. A tenuous thread in the quiet storm of your lives.

You figured that was enough.

The rain hasn't slowed. If anything, the howl of the wind is stronger than before.

The soothing rhythm of droplets hitting your window turned aggressively sharp, like darts thrown against a worn cork board.

The boom of thunder is nearly in sync with the pulse of your core, aching and insistent in its need.

It’s been weeks since Logan touched you last, his endless cycle of guilt stronger than it's been before. He’s never outright said it, but you know it’s there.

The silence between you both has stretched longer than you'd like to admit, a quiet that isn't comfortable anymore.

You know he’s got it in his head that he’s somehow taken advantage of you. A perverted old man falling weak to the pretty, young thing taking up space in the bed two doors over from him.

The thought stirs something deep within you, a mix of frustration and confusion. He’s not wrong, not exactly—but he’s not right either. You aren’t a child, and you aren’t helpless. You knew what you wanted, what you needed.

And that hasn’t dared to change.

You shift in bed, the sheets tangling around your legs as your body hums with a restlessness you can’t shake. The air in your room feels thick, charged, and suffocating, a mirror of the space between you and Logan.

He doesn’t understand that you want him too, that you weren’t some helpless thing to be protected or shielded from his darkness. It eats at you until your skin is practically buzzing with it, buzzing with the need to show him.

There’s only so much silence you can take before it becomes too loud to ignore. 

You swing your legs over the edge of the bed, the hardwood cool against your bare feet. You know it’s late, but you don’t care.

You walk through the dimly lit hallway, the creak of the floorboards quiet under you as you make your way to Logan’s door. It’s cracked open, a yellow glow spilling through to guide you like a lighthouse guides its ships to shore.

When you reach the beat up wood you don’t hesitate, you push it open the slightest bit, peering through the widened gap. 

He’s there, sitting on the edge of the bed, his back to you. He doesn’t turn, doesn’t acknowledge you, but you know he knows you’re there.

You cross the threshold, your heartbeat loud in your ears as you pull the door shut behind you, leaning your back against it.

“Logan,” you say softly, your voice rougher than you intended.

He doesn’t respond right away. Instead, he runs his hand through his hair, pushing it away from his face. The lamplight catches the sharp planes of his face, a familiar weariness etched into his features.

His fingers flex at his sides, and for a moment, you think he’s going to tell you to leave—to go back to your room where it’s safe, where you won’t make things more complicated than they already are. You almost brace for it.

But then he speaks.

“What’s wrong, kid.” His voice is nothing but a deep rumble, like gravel crunching underfoot.

You shrug noncommittally, hands messing with a stray thread hanging from the edge of your shorts. “Can’t sleep.”

Logan sighs long and slow through his nose, hands pressing into his thighs. “Thought you liked the rain.”

You smile faintly at the irony, chest swelling with something dangerous. 

You take a step further into the room, pushing yourself off the closed door. The familiar scent of him invades your senses. It’s a mixture of leather, earth, and something raw—something undeniably him. 

You stand there for a moment, letting the silence stretch thin and taut before you finally speak.

“Can I stay?” The words come out barely above a whisper, but they land like a crack of lightning.

You feel your heart thud painfully in your chest, not from fear, but from the sudden vulnerability that makes your skin burn.

The room feels smaller now, the walls pressing in as you step forward, each movement slow and deliberate. You stop at the edge of his bed, the sheets pressing against the bare skin of your thighs.

Logan’s gaze flickers over his shoulder, meeting yours briefly before he looks away again, like he’s trying to convince himself that the ache in his chest isn’t real.

“You should go back to bed,” he says, voice gruff. “It’s late.”

“I don’t want to go back.” You shake your head even though he isn’t turned around to see it.

Without thinking, you crawl onto the bed, the comforter making soft shushing sounds under your hands and knees. You reach out, fingers brushing the back of his neck, the muscles there tight with strain.

Logan flinches slightly, but he doesn’t pull away, and that’s all the permission you need.

You shift closer, pressing your chest against his back, and letting your hands settle on his shoulders. The heat between you is electric, charged with something unsaid, something raw and undeniable.

“Please,” you whisper, your lips brushing against the back of his ear, your voice a mixture of defiance and desire.

Logan stiffens, but this time, you feel the shudder that runs through him, the way his body responds despite the walls he’s built around himself.

You know he’s torn, that he wants to fight this. You feel it in the tension that radiates from him, in the way his body seems to be fighting against the instinct to turn toward you.

But you don’t care anymore. You’re done with silence.

Your fingers slide down his back, feeling the rough fabric of his shirt against your skin as you press yourself closer. Your breath is hot against his neck now, and you can feel the rapid pulse in his veins beneath your lips as you hover just above his skin, waiting.

“Logan…” Your voice is softer now, almost pleading. You don’t know what you’re asking for, but you don’t have to.

His hand comes up, brushing against your wrist as if testing, as if he’s afraid you’ll pull away. But you don’t.

Instead, you lean into him further, your lips brushing the curve of his neck, whispering into the tension that still hangs heavy between you. “Please.”

The last shreds of Logan’s resistance snap under the cloying weight of your touch.

He’s moving before you can even register what’s happening, rearing up with heavy hands that land on your shoulders to push you backwards.

You fall back onto the bed with a soft gasp, bouncing on the mattress once, twice, before Logan follows. His body settles over yours like a warm blanket, thick forearms braced on either side of your head to support his weight.

"Why couldn't you sleep, honey?" he asks, dark eyes boring into yours intense enough to get your stomach churning. The green of them is deeper than normal, like fresh moss growing over stone.

“I was thinking,” you whisper, breathless. Your pulse races beneath your skin, you wonder distantly if he can hear it too.

“Thinkin’ about what?” he presses, breath fanning over your lips temptingly. 

Your brows furrow, a soft noise escaping you. You can't help but tell the truth. “About you.”

Logan hums, eyes trailing along your face slowly. He slots a knee between your thighs, groaning softly at the wet heat that seeps through to his jeans.

You gasp, hips bucking down instinctively. Your pussy aches desperately, leaking arousal into the cotton gusset of your panties.

His jaw clenches at the sound, muscle ticking just beneath the grey of his beard. “Is that right? You been layin' in that bed, thinkin' about me, gettin’ all worked up?"

Your face burns under his scrutiny, but you don’t shy away. You arch your back, pressing yourself as close to him as possible, letting the heat of your body speak for you.

“Yeah,” you breathe, the confession trembling on your lips. “I need you, it hurts.”

Logan exhales sharply, like the words knocked the air out of him. His hands slide from your shoulders, rough palms gliding down the skin of your arms before settling right under the swell of your breasts.

“Where’s it achin’, baby?” he asks softly, words almost getting lost in the dark of the room. “Show me.”

You let out a soft breath, reaching down to take his hand in yours.

Without breaking eye contact, you guide his hand down your trembling body until his palm rests over the apex of your thighs, where the damp fabric of your shorts clings to your swollen folds.

“Here,” you whisper, voice barely audible above the rain pounding against his window.

A low growl rumbles from deep in his chest, and his fingers press more firmly against you, feeling the slick heat that’s soaked through the thin cotton. His eyes darken further, the green almost swallowed by the black of his pupils.

Logan’s thumb drags over your clit, slow and deliberate, coaxing a needy whimper from your lips.

“Jesus,” he mutters, his voice thick. “You’re drippin’ for me, aren’t you? Didn’t even need to touch you, and you’re already so fuckin’ wet.” 

You whimper softly, bucking your hips against his hand, desperate for more.

"I've been like this all night," you admit, your voice going high and needy. "Thinking about how good you make me feel. How much I want you."

Logan’s eyes lock onto yours, and there’s something new swirling through them, something you’ve never seen before.

A beat passes—too long—almost agonizing. His free hand lifts from your hip, gently cupping your cheek, fingers brushing against your skin, like he isn’t sure if he has the right to touch you like this. 

His thumb brushes your lip, his gaze flicking to your mouth before returning to your eyes, asking for permission, even though neither of you had ever really needed it before.

"Logan," you say, the sound a little breathless, unsure of how to navigate this sudden shift, but he doesn’t keep you waiting.

He closes the distance in a heartbeat, lips crashing into yours with a ferocity you didn’t expect.

It’s like the world around you falls away, leaving only the warmth of his lips, the taste of him, and the pressure of his body against yours. The raging storm outside dulling until it’s nothing but fuzzy background noise.

His kiss is rough, deep, urgent, but there’s something more in it, a slow unraveling. Like he’s trying to carve himself into you, a permanent mark, a reminder that he was here, even if he never says it out loud.

Logan tastes like rich smoke and whiskey, the sharp edge of him mixing with the sweet burn of need. It sends your head reeling, arms coming up to circle around his neck.

You can’t find the words to describe it, not with the way his fingers slide through the wetness gathering at your entrance, sending jolts of pleasure straight to your core.

Your hips thrust upward, begging for more, your body hungry for the release he’s just out of reach of giving.

“Want you inside me, Logan,” you moan desperately, slick lips brushing his with every word. “Please.”

Logan's body stiffens against yours at the sound of your pleading, his grip tightening on your cheek like he's trying to anchor himself in the reality of what you're asking.

“Shit,” he growls under his breath, his forehead pressing to yours as he closes his eyes. His chest heaves, the tension in his body palpable. "I—" he pauses, struggling to form the words, but you can see it in his eyes. He's conflicted, desperate, yet still hesitant.

You move against him, your body restless, your need undeniable, feeling the rigid outline of his hard cock pressed firmly against your thigh. A thick plane of heat that has your pussy clenching around the tips of his fingers.

You don’t want to push him, not anymore. But you’re past the point of waiting for permission.

Your lips meet his again, softer this time, coaxing, until he finally gives in, groaning against your mouth as he kisses you back with an intensity that steals your breath.

“I want to feel you,” you whisper, your hands trailing down to the hem of his shirt, pushing it over the swell of his pecs. 

His skin is hot under your fingertips, rough and familiar. Your fingers trail lightly across his chest, nails scratching through the salt and pepper hair dusted across his skin as you urge him closer.

“Just the tip,” Logan mutters under his breath, barely above a whisper. His voice hoarse, like he’s bargaining with himself. “Just to make you feel good, but that’s it, understand?”

You bite your lip, the edge of frustration gnawing at you. It’s not everything you need, not everything you want, but it's something. And right now, it’s enough.

You nod your head, hands already moving to the front of his jeans. You undo the button with shaking fingers, tugging the zipper down and pushing the worn denim away. 

His cock springs free, already hard, leaking with the same desperation you feel. You run your fingers along his length, feeling the heat of him, the steady throb of his pulse.

Logan peels down the thin layer of your shorts, cursing under his breath when he finds you completely bare underneath, your slick pussy shining under the dim light.

You watch him, chest heaving, as he stares down at you—his eyes dark and full of something primal, something raw.

“Fuck,” he breathes, his fingers tracing the outline of your wetness. He groans low in his throat, his thumb circling your clit once before moving down, dipping inside you just barely. “You’re perfect, baby.”

“Logan,” you whine, thighs spreading in a clear invitation. You patience is running exceedingly thin, your whole body alight with the feeling of a raging forest fire

“I know,” he mutters, placating. He takes the throbbing length of his cock in his hand, swiftly settling between your legs. “I know.”

The thick head drags through your folds, smearing pre-come along your skin and adding even more to the mess between your legs.

A quiet moan passes through your swollen lips, your muscles tightening as he slides himself along your clit. A slow back and forth movement that sends sparks shooting up your spine.

Logan grits his teeth, his breath shallow, as he finally aligns himself with your clenching hole. 

The air around you feels charged, a taut thread stretched between anticipation and restraint. You shift your hips slightly, just enough to encourage him, your eyes locked on his as you beg him silently with your gaze.

Then, with a low growl that vibrates through you, he pushes forward, just enough to make you gasp in relief, the head of his cock sliding home in your entrance.

And though it’s only the tip, the sensation of him inside you is enough to set your world alight. 

You can feel it, deep in your bones—the simmering, searing heat that makes everything else fade into the background.

Logan presses his lips to your forehead, his breath hot against your skin as he keeps his movements slow, deliberate, his hands holding your hips steady. "This is what you wanted, huh? Got you begging for it, honey," he growls softly. "Even if I’m only givin’ you a taste."

His hips roll languidly, staying true to his word and never sinking deeper than the thick head of his cock. His hand grips the base tightly, his fist fucking slow strokes over the length of himself to where he’s spreading your pussy open.

His scarred knuckles bump against your clit with every stroke, fanning the fire building in your lower stomach.

“Feel so fuckin’ good, honey,” he groans into the skin of your neck, the pace of his hips speeding up ever so slightly. “Feels like heaven.”

You claw at the skin of his back, touch wild and desperate. It takes everything in you not to shift your hips down, to sheath the rest of his cock deep inside your and lock your ankles around his back so he can never leave again.

Logan’s lips find your neck, teeth grazing your skin as he shifts against you. “Tell me you want this,” he says, his voice low, almost a command, yet laced with something tender. “Tell me you want me.”

You meet his gaze without hesitation, your voice steady despite the tremble in your chest. “I want you. I’ve always wanted you.” 

The words come out without thought, raw and honest, and you see something in his eyes shift—a flicker of relief, of something deeper than lust.

Logan groans like he got shot, his body shuddering above you as a low growl tears its way from his chest. He fucks into you faster, short, quick thrusts that steal all the breath from your lungs.

Sparks go off behind your closed eyes, bright white and glittering. You can feel yourself getting closer, your body trembling as you grind up against him, meeting him halfway, needing more, needing release.

“Logan,” you gasp, your hands gripping his shoulders harder, nails digging in. “I’m so close. Please—”

“Let go,” he growls, his pace increasing, his body pressing harder against yours. “Come for me, sweetheart.”

With his command, you unravel, the world spinning around you as the pleasure crashes over you, leaving you breathless, gasping for air, your body quivering beneath him as he holds you through it.

Logan follows, tearing himself from the tight grip of your pussy with a sharp jerk of his hips, your name falling from his lips like a prayer as he shoots thick ropes of come over your slick folds.

Your body shakes at the feeling, a breathless whimper pulled from your slack lips at the sticky warmth of his release.

He collapses onto the mattress next to you, his body shuddering enough to match your own. The room falls into a deep silence, the only sounds your mingling breaths and the distant sound of thunder.

A sick sort of dread bursts through the sweet afterglow of your hazy mind, settling in your stomach like a lead weight. You think that this is the moment where Logan will realize what you’ve done, that he’ll retreat back into himself and send you away.

Send you back to your own room and leave you to lay in the cold aftermath of your own recklessness.

You brace for it, the instinct to pull away, to protect yourself from his withdrawal, but it never comes. 

Instead, you feel his strong arm slide over your waist, pulling you closer, his body heat a stark contrast to the chill creeping in from the window.

His breath is warm against your neck as he shifts, his fingers tracing absent circles on your skin in a move that’s so endearingly human it has your chest aching.

"Stay here tonight?" he asks, his voice rough, almost a whisper.

Your heart clenches, tears burning at your waterline at the vulnerability of his tone. It breaks the dam inside you, relief and something dangerously close to love flooding your body in a bursting rush of water.

“Of course,” you murmur, your voice shaky.

Logan’s hand tightens around you, his thumb brushing over your ribs. He presses a soft kiss to the bare skin of your shoulder, settling onto the mattress with a slow breath.

You drift to sleep more relaxed than you’ve felt in years, even with the knowledge of the slow journey that lies ahead of you. It won’t be easy, it never is with Logan. You can’t find it in yourself to care.

Because even though the rain falls, the desert doesn’t bloom overnight. 

And neither do you.

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[dameronspector]

Time in a Bottle

Pairing: Joel Miller x Fem!Wife!Reader, Past!Manny Alvarez x Fem!Reader

Summary: You wished you could save time in a bottle. You wished you could stay longer with him. You were supposed to spend the rest of your days in marital bliss, turning gray and wrinkly together. And then, your husband decided to risk his life and save her. She brought in ghosts from your past and took away your reason to live at the same time.

Warnings: Angst. Suicidal Thoughts. Cursing. Canon-typical Gore and injuries, Blood, Based on s2 episode 2. This is literally pain. Major character death. Thoughts of vengeance. Reader goes crazy later. References to Past Manny x Reader (I am assuming Manny to be in his mid-thirties so Reader's age is the same). Manny is kind of toxic now because of his jealousy, If you’re an Abby defender, please click off right away because this is only Abby hate. Reader wishes to kill abby and the salt lake crew.

AN: fuck that show, fuck neil and fuck abby. this is basically self indulgent and i need to vent out my anger and sadness. there will be 2 parts because its too long.

It’s been 5 years since you and Joel decided to finally settle down, 4 since you got married and 7 since you were together. Arriving to Jackson, seeing at first glance how it was a real, functioning, town really shifted something in you and Joel. And then he saw how Tommy had a family of his own, with a baby on the way. Joel’s chest ached with longing to have a life like that with you. So, Joel sat you down one night and proposed you. Straight to the point. Just like him.

You could see how the slow, domestic life was turning him soft- he slept in later, he enjoyed full meals, he had taken up carpentry again, he was more open with his affection for you and Ellie- in short, you were enjoying this slow life with him. You loved seeing him slow down and watch his tender side show up after spending 20 years running, killing and looking over his shoulder. His voice had turned softer and although his joints had become sore with age, you were always there next to him to help soothe them.

Obviously, you said yes. How could you not? He had your whole heart in his hands. He was the reason why you woke up in the morning. You had nothing after him or before him. You grabbed his scruffy face in your hands like he was made of glass and kissed him sweetly. His eyes shone like stars in the dim lighting of your room and he flashed you a dimpled, bashful smile. He told you he didn’t deserve any of this and that you deserve someone younger, someone your age- but he wants to be selfish just this once. You just kissed him deeply and told him that you loved him and only him.

The next morning, you and Joel got your marriage officiated at the town courthouse. It was a simple ceremony. You were wearing a salvaged and simple white dress that was found in one of the abandoned stores and Joel wore his best shirt and trousers. Tommy and Maria were the witnesses and one of the townspeople was acting as the officiant. Ellie and Dina were your bridesmaids and Jesse, Tommy and little Benji Miller were Joel’s best men. The entire town had attended the wedding ceremony. It’s been 4 years since that happy memory. And they had gone by in a blink because your husband was quite literally the best husband in the whole world.

He would cook for you, massage your achy joints, you patch each other’s injuries with gentle touches, you would do the dishes together, he would make you sweet gifts from wood and mend things around the house, you would cook healthy meals for him and keep him active so that his joints wouldn’t turn rusty and the two of you would take long, peaceful, naps everyday. Watching his aged and mature face relax when he was sleeping was your favorite thing to do. You would take your time to run your hands through every wrinkle and dip of his face. He would try to deny it, but he'd lean his head closer to your hand and purred like a cat whenever you ran your hands through his graying curls.

He had also started to help around Jackson- rebuilding houses, expanding the town, fixing the broken stuff, and helping around the community and it made your heart swell with love for him. This man, who had lost everything in his life, was slowly starting to gain his real self back. Everyone loved Joel because of the work he did for them. Your heart especially burst out of your chest when he would play with Tommy and Maria’s son- Benjamin or Benji for short. He was now 5 years old and Joel would still sit him on his tender knees and explain to him about the situation outside Jackson. He talked to Benji in such a delicate voice that it made you tear up. It made you wonder what would it look like if that was your baby on his lap.

After spending half of your life with him, you conceded that Joel Miller was a good man. Yes, he was not an angel because he’s gotten his hands dirty with red, but who is in this world? You had done some fucked up shit that you wouldn’t have before. Ellie, Tommy, Maria, every single person had to go to lengths to protect themselves. But Joel Miller was a loyal man. He was a man who would go to any lengths to protect his own and the vulnerable. He was someone who always put others before him. And that’s what made him a good man. And you couldn't be more happy to spend the rest of your days with this good man.

Deep, deep, down you knew that one day, his selflessness to dive in situations to save others before himself, would be the end of him.

-

There were some changes to today's patrolling team. Originally, Ellie was supposed to join Joel but considering whatever happened last night, Joel decided to let her sleep in and he went on patrol with you and Dina. He wasn't happy that you were joining him in the terrible weather but you shut him up with a kiss and saddled your horse.

None of you anticipated how deadly the blizzard would be. The visibility was zero, your horses were struggling to walk in the knee deep snow and poor Dina was close to freezing her hands off. You and Joel weren't faring any better. Both of your faces were freezing, his facial hair catching the snow, your aged joints were stiff and you knew his back and knees must've been killing him, but Joel Miller wouldn't be Joel Miller without ignoring his own health and looking after the others. So you bribed him into taking shelter by telling him that you and Dina needed to rest as soon as possible. That got his attention real quick and he spotted a closed off mine and ushered the two of you in it. The packed area kept the place somewhat warm and you and Dina took some time to remove your gloves and stretch your limbs.

Suddenly, there was commotion. It was muffled, but you could feel it. Joel turned his head to look at you and signaled you to mount your horse.

"I'm coming with you, Joel", you told him firmly.

"Go sit on your horse, baby. I'll be back in 5. Look after Dina", he conceded.

You furrowed your eyes at him and he looked at you apologetically before taking off towards the source of the sound. You sighed wearily and mounted your horse. You asked Dina to show her hands and you took in at how her palm was slowly turning into a dark shade of blue.

"Shit, kid, we gotta warm you up", you told her with concern and rubbed your hands against her palm to generate heat. She winced and you mumbled an apology before the upstairs door burst open.

You and Dina snapped your heads up at the sound. It was Joel, thankfully, and he had brought in…a girl with him? He slammed the doors close behind them and the door started shaking, something heavy pounding against it. A horde of infected.

You paid close attention to the girl. She looked to be in her early 20s and she was shaking. Something felt...off. Where did she even come from? You were in the middle of nowhere.

"Joel?!", Dina shouted next to you.

"Up here! I'm comin', I'm comin'", came your husband's voice as he approached the railing to look at you and Dina. You looked up at him and observed him closely to check if he was okay. He looked at you and nodded his head.

He then turned around and started talking to the girl. You still couldn't shake away the odd feeling. The loud banging of the door brought you back to the present. You saw Joel come down with the girl in tow.

"What do we do?!", Dina asked breathlessly.

"We leave!", Joel answered while running over to you.

"We leave? Joel, What?", you asked him in exasperation.

He looked at you with a hurried look in his eyes.

Dina spoke up, her eyes wide. "Back to Jackson?! It's too far, we'll freeze before we get halfway!"

"Joel, it's bad out there, we can't. And there's a fucking horde outside as we speak", you tried to make him understand with pleading eyes.

He made quick work of mounting his horse.

"I'm aware", he replied shortly.

"Where the fuck did they even come from?", Dina's voice was a distant hum in your ears as you focused your laser sharp gaze on the girl that Joel had brought in. She hadn't said a word.

"Where did you come from?", Dina asked the girl in confusion and you supported her question.

"Yeah, where did you come from. We're in the middle of nowhere. And you were out there in that blizzard without a horse?", you questioned her sharply, your eyes narrowed.

Her eyes were wide and she kept darting them between you and Dina, seemingly on edge.

"The mountain", came her immediate reply. Like she'd rehearsed it. You gave her a look and turned to look at Joel. His questioning eyes bored into yours and the loud banging and shrieking behind the door broke your contact.

Dina turned back to look at you and Joel. "Okay, if we stay here we die and if we go out there, we die!", her words rushing out in fear and frustration.

"Joel...We got extra baggage now. What are we doing?", you murmured lowly to him.

He furrowed his eyebrows in frustration. "I don't know, I don't know, I'm thinking!"

"The lodge. My friends are holed up in a lodge halfway up the mountain."

All three of you snapped your heads to look at the girl, her body language screaming fear and adrenaline.

"Not far. If the infected are down here, maybe there aren't anymore up there", both you and Dina were looking at her with equal parts confusion and doubt. A fucking lodge? Here?

"Why would you leave that lodge and end up here? Are you dumb or is there somethin' else?", you asked her with a quirked eyebrow. This wasn't your first rodeo. You've encountered stupid raiders like these before.

The door was about to be broken off its hinges. You had no option.

"Fuck it, it's all we got. Are your friends armed?", Joel asked her in haste.

You whipped your head to look at him. "Joel!"

He looked at you and softened his eyes. "Baby, we don't have any other options. D’you trust me?"

You couldn't believe that he was going to trust this girl and her friends just like that. You huffed in frustration and exchanged a skeptical look with Dina before you begrudgingly nodded at him. Of course you trusted him. You trusted him with your life.

"Yeah", the girl nodded.

"Good. We're gonna need 'em. Get on", Joel gestured at her to hop on the horse behind him.

You exchanged another doubtful look with Joel and he just brushed his hand gently over your arm. You didn't notice the way the girl was staring at the exchange with tense eyes.

-

As you left, the door broke and the horde of infected took over the mine quickly. The four of you rushed down the snow covered hill. The air was biting at your skin as it whipped across your face and numbed it. All of you were covered in snow, your cheeks red and body stiff. But you forced your poor horses to run faster as the horde followed you.

You suddenly came at stop and noticed a thick air of smoke and fire in the distance. Jackson. Oh god. Please be okay, you thought about your family. You thought about Ellie, Tommy, Maria and little Benji.

"Joel!", you got his attention with a concerned yell.

All three of them looked over towards the scene.

"What? Oh god", Dina exclaimed breathlessly.

"I have to go back!", Joel announced.

You widened your eyes and walked your horse closer to his. "Are you crazy? What do you mean you have to go back? How-"

"We won't make it!", Dina exasperated.

Joel turned his head to look at you with alert eyes. As if he wanted to relay this to you, and you only. "If i don't make it, I don't make it. I-"

"Shut the fuck up, Joel", you scolded him with a frustrated voice. Your eyes filled up with tears. Why was he so hell-bent on doing something reckless every time?

"We're almost there! The lodge is just up ahead- it's like a minute. We've got blankets, ammo. My friends can help you get back. We can fight", the girl sitting behind Joel spoke over your argument.

You turned to look at her with a scrutinising stare. You still didn’t believe her but Joel was already being way too stubborn right now and Dina was inching closer to hypothermia. You didn’t want to risk that. You and Joel took one last look towards Jackson and reined your horses.

"Fast!", Joel commanded over the howling wind and all three of you took off quickly.

So you followed her lead and took off for the lodge, effectively distracting the horde to focus on the other horde coming from the top of the mountain.

"Horses! We got Horses!"

You heard a few voices overlap as you approached the lodge. There were around 4 people standing, you noticed. The wind was picking up pace, hitting your face like someone was stabbing you with tiny needles.

Joel got off his horse before helping you and Dina down. The girl was helped by one of the men in the group. Joel checked if you were alright and you told him to check on Dina instead because she had become way too stiff for your liking. Joel bundled up Dina under his jacket and put an arm around you to keep you close to his body heat. You were now shivering violently against him and he pulled you closer.

You walked upstairs into a room that overlooked the mountains with a giant glass window. Joel made haste and and walked you and Dina by the fireplace. He rubbed Dina's arms before another girl from the group took over and began treating her. Joel turned his attention to you and bundled you up close to him. You were stiff and shaking head to toe. Your lips were a slight tinge of blue.

"Hey, hey hey hey- Baby? Look at me", Joel fretted over you and brought his cold hands up to cup your face.

You leaned your face against his palms numbly and his name left your mouth in a whisper.

"I know, I know, I'm here", he reassured you and brought you closer to his chest, trapping your body heat.

In your haze, you could faintly hear Abby say something to Joel to which he originally opposed to but after a few seconds, he pulled away from you hesitantly. You whined and tried to grasp his shirt in your numb hands. He held your cold hands and put them right next to his heart.

"It's okay, honey. They're helpin' us. We gotta get you warm, yeah?', he cooed to softly and gently pulled away from you.

As soon as Joel pulled away from you, you heard a faint gasp and the entire room quieted down. You swiveled your heavy head towards the sound and tried to focus your blurry eyes on the person in front of you. Joel slid his hand down to hold your elbow and the other arm was holding you by your shoulders.

"(Name)?", you heard a voice whisper.

Joel whipped his head to look at him. "How the fuck do you know her?", he growled.

Manny cleared his throat. "Just...from back in the day. We were in the same QZ."

Joel's face twisted in confusion and anger. You'd never told him about this man. Joel wasn't sure whether he should trust him or not. Before he could ask you about this, the girl decided to break the tension, seemingly in a rush. "Okay, Manny, help her out. He knows what he's doing, trust me", she added the last part when she noticed Joel try to argue with her.

Joel let out a weary sigh and reluctantly handed you over to this...Manny. His fingers were constantly rubbing against reach other, worried for you and Dina, when he noticed that Jackson was perfectly visible from here. He rushed over to the window and stared at it in despair, not knowing if Ellie, Tommy and the others were okay.

-

Manny's POV

Manny damn near fainted when he saw you in that man's arms. He was seeing you after almost a decade. A decade since you two parted ways and he foolishly let you go. He tried looking for you for 5 years but eventually gave up, believing that you were dead. But here you were, delirious and cold, against this old man who talked to you like you were something fragile and precious. Just like how he used to talk to you back then. He noted how you looked so mature and strong, yet so vulnerable and beautiful at the same time.

He could feel the stares of everyone in the room. Especially this man's. He turned to look at him with fury in his eyes after Manny uttered your name. Manny snapped himself out of his daze and explained how you had been in the same qz. But that wasn't it, was it? It was way more than that. It wasn't just acquaintance.

Manny carefully approached Joel, his eyes dialed into you and took you in his arms. Your eyes were bleary and unfocused out of exhaustion. He took some time to take you in. Your hair was longer now, a faded scar by on your forehead, your skin was smooth as ever, just tinged with red now. He took note of the blue tinge on your lips and immediately got to work. He bundled you up in your jacket and a blanket and brought you closer to the fire, hugging you closely to his chest. He rubbed his hands on your arms quickly to warm you up faster.

Manny still couldn't fathom that you were here, in his arms. He carefully took your left hand in both of his and started blowing hot air on it. As he was rubbing your hand, his fingers brushed against a metal ring on your ring finger. He froze. You were married? To that man? Manny clenched his jaw tightly. He didn’t know if he was jealous or upset that he let you go easily. But he was sure about one thing- whatever Abby was planning, you were off limits.

-

Your body was finally warming up and you came to consciousness. You felt a warm presence next to you. You took a deep breath in, trying to look for Joel’s comforting scent but you were met with an unfamiliar one. Your eyes shot open in alarm and you jolted out of your haze before pushing at the body next to you.

“Hey-hey- (Name)- it’s okay”, the voice tried to calm you down, holding your flailing arms against their chest.

You gave a final push and looked up.

There’s no way.

Your breath hitched and you stared at him. The same curly hair, the same pink splotches on his cheeks, the same brown eyes except he had facial hair now. “Manny?”, you whispered in disbelief.

You thought he was dead. For the past 10 years, you thought he was fucking dead. Manny lowered his eyes in shame. Your face shifted with a thousand emotions at the same time. You weren’t sure whether you wanted to cry or punch him across the face.

Your mouth fell open and Joel called for you before you could say anything. “Honey?”, he made his way over and you kept your teary eyes on Manny before rushing into Joel’s arms. You met him halfway and he gathered you in his warm embrace.

“Hey, you good? Don’t get up so quickly”, he chided you in a gruff voice while brushing your flyaways from your forehead. He grabbed your chin gently and pulled you away from his chest to look at him. You furrowed your brows in concern, tears making your vision blurry. Then, all of sudden, you remembered- “Dina- where’s- where’s Dina?”, you asked him in a shaky voice.

"She's okay, see, they're helpin' her", he told you softly and gestured at Dina. You looked over at her and nodded your head before your eyes fell on the large glass window in front of you. It was overlooking the snowy landscape and you could see Jackson, still burning, the orange of the fire a bright contrast against the stark white snow. "Joel-", you let out a sad whisper and pulled him towards the window, him guiding you with an arm across your shoulders. The two of you looked out at the smoke and ash curling in the air helplessly.

Joel clenched his jaw and barked orders at the others. "Okay, everybody grab blankets, ammo, whatever weapons you have, we're headin' out in three minutes."

"Uh- sorry, I'm-I'm Abby-" so she does have a name. "This is Nora, Manny, Owen and Mel", the moment she said Manny you threw him a tentative glance. Manny turned away.

Joel just twisted his face in disinterest and turned around to contact anyone who was in the radio room. "Jackson, come in", he furrowed his eyebrows in concern and held up the radio with both of his hands. "Tommy, come in. Do you copy?" You took note of the desperation in his voice and ran your hand across his back again, blankly staring ahead.

Manny's POV

"Jackson!", the man shouted in the radio once again. There was no chance that he'd get any signal. Manny brought up his gaze to look at you. You were standing close to him, your hand splayed across his back in a tender and supporting embrace. Manny clenched his fingers into a fist.

"Her name's Dina", Abby spoke quietly while gesturing at Dina. "She is-" Abby gave a look to Manny, "(Name), as we all know by now. She's related to him somehow", Abby spoke in a low voice, so as to not alert you. Manny chose to keep his mouth shut and not reveal your relationship to the man next to you. His gears started turning. He needed to keep you safe somehow.

"Jackson!", the man yelled again.

"And he...", Abby turned around to removed her coat before continuing, "..is Joel."

The room was suddenly way too quiet. Manny felt like his ears were filled with water. Of fucking course you were married to Joel. This was going to be a pain in the ass. But his condition still stands. You were off fucking limits. He walked over to Abby and held her arm. "Do whatever the fuck you want with him, not a scratch on her", he conceded harshly.

Abby turned her head to look at him. "You can't be serious-" "I don't fucking care. She's not a part of this shit", Manny warned her.

Abby furrowed her eyebrows and reluctantly nodded yes. Manny clenched his jaw so tightly that he felt like his teeth were going to break. He couldn't fight for you then, but he'd do it now.

-

"Hey Jackson, does anyone copy? Any patrols, anyone?", Joel barked in the radio again. You couldn't help but feel restless, for some reason. Like your heart had fallen down to the deepest pits of your stomach, your chest constricting painfully. Behind you the room had gone way too quiet for your liking.

"Tommy, if you can hear me, we've got these--"

"Joel, Joel, Joel, Joel-"

You and Joel whipped your head around to see Manny had held Dina on gunpoint. Your stomach turned. Your eyes widened. "Manny!", your voice furious. You couldn't believe he could stoop so low. Joel made a move and the other guy-Owen- stopped him.

"Ch-Ch-Ch. Ah-Ah-Ah!", he pointed his gun at Joel. You grabbed Joel's arm and both of you raised your arms. You had handled a lot of these similar situations back in the day. This was like second nature to you.

Manny pressed the gun tighter to Dina's temple and Joel made a motion of surrendering. Your face twisted in pain and you tried to placate him. "Manny...lower the gun. She's just a kid, please", you requested in a wobbly voice and raised your arms higher. Joel looked between the two of you with a distant look in his eyes.

Manny clenched his jaw tighter and his eyes flashed with unease. He couldn't disappoint you once more. But he was already protecting you, why should he worry about these other two? He gripped his gun firmly and shoved Dina back into his chest.

Your face twisted in pain. What the fuck was wrong with him? In all the years you knew him, he was never this…heartless.

"We're not gonna hurt her", Abby began and your eyes followed the bald headed girl- Nora- as she removed Dina's gun from her holster, "we're just gonna put her to sleep for a while."

Nora walked over to you and Joel and took away your radios and guns as well. You and Joel silently complied. "Trust me, it's for the best", Abby suggested with a smirk. You glared at her and your breathing quickened. You saw Joel subtly shake his head from the corner of your eye.

"Do it", she ordered the other girl-Mel- with a shake of her head.

Mel looked skeptical, glancing between Abby and Dina nervously. You almost laughed. Her own group was untrusting of her.

Abby turned her head to address Mel, "If you don't do it, I'm gonna smash her in the fuckin' head", she spit out.

"Watch it", you seethed at her and clenched your hands. She stared you down, challenging. Mel immediately got to work and bent down to retrieve something from the backpack.

"You wanna rob us? Fine, take what you want", Joel offered in a steady voice.

"Do we look like raiders to you?", Abby questioned him while removing her jacket and Manny turned his attention back towards you and Joel. You clenched your jaw. You knew there was something off about her. Joel darted his eyes around the room. He looked at Owen and then Manny. "No", he declared gruffly.

"She's been on my ass since the moment she saw me. Tell me, (Name), what do we look like?", She questioned you and crossed her arms.

You stared at her menacingly. "A bad fucking actress, is what you look like to me", you bit back.

Abby's face flickered with a look of offense before she scoffed. "What do we look like?", she addressed Joel.

Joel darted his eyes between her and Manny, keeping an eye on Dina. "Military." Joel looked around the room and considered the only other option. "Fireflies?", his voice wavered slightly.

Abby shrugged. "Used to be. Haven't you heard? There are no more fireflies. They're all gone."

Joel tensed and his eyes shone with painful memories. You were frozen to your spot. This is what kept you up at night. That there would be some loose ends that would come back to haunt you later. You and Joel shifted your gaze to Mel, who was preparing some kind of syringe. "What the hell is that?", you murmured.

"No- NO. Get that shit away from me-", Dina struggled against Manny. Joel took a shaky breath in. "This is just gonna put you to sleep- this is going to put you to sleep for one hour, I promise", Mel tried placating her. So far, she was the only one who was cordial in this group.

Dina struggled further in Manny's arms and he tightened his arms around her. She looked at you and Joel and you gave her a look of sympathy while Joel nodded his head at her, telling her to cooperate. She finally calmed down and reluctantly let Mel inject her with an anaesthetic. Dina panted and looked towards you again, Joel giving her a nod of reassurance.

“No. No. No!”, Dina whimpered and you closed your eyes in pain. She soon passed out and slipped down Manny’s arms who laid her on the floor. You opened your eyes, your tears flowing down your cheeks, looking at her unconscious body which looked smaller than it was. You raised your eyes to stare into Manny’s intensely. He looked at you, his eyes shining with something that you couldn’t quite grasp.

“See, breathing”, Abby announced casually as if she hadn’t just ordered to inject someone with a drug against their wishes. Fucking moron.

“That’s a nice scar you have on your right temple; there”, she stated. Your body stiffened. How the fuck did she know that? Joel looked at her in confusion.

“I’d say you’re about, what, six feet?”, she mentioned casually, taking her eyes across Joel’s body. “In your 60s now?” You couldn’t believe the audacity of this girl. You furrowed your eyebrows and your face twisted in a grimace. Joel’s breathing quickened. Abby chuckled suddenly,“You actually are, pretty handsome”, she raised her eyebrows, “congrats on that.”

Your eyes widened. “You’re a fucking weirdo, so congrats on that”, you gritted your teeth and spit at her. She chuckled again, like this was all a joke. Joel side eyed her and turned to look at you. “It’s okay, baby. Relax”, he soothed you.

She then gave Joel an offer- to tell the truth. And something about they’ll all know if he’s speaking the truth and that she’ll let Dina live. You almost charged at her but Joel shook his head at you.

“Where was the last place you saw the fireflies?”

There it was. They were connected to the hospital. You should’ve known.

Both you and Joel knew what she was talking about. Joel’s face shifted in recognition and his eyes filled up with tears. Your hands were shaking and you felt bile rise up your throat. “Salt Lake.”

Abby moved back in satisfaction. “At least you’re honest.”

Joel turned his back to look at Jackson in the distance. The smoke, ash and fire still persisted. His mind was roaming around in circles. He was physically here but mentally back in Jackson. He needed to get you and Dina out of here. He needed to save your home. He needed to save his family. He felt like he was stuck in his personal hell- his heart cut into a million pieces and thrown around in different places for him to pick up and protect. Joel turned back, “I saved your life”, he tried to bargain. Abby scoffed loudly. “What life?”

And it happened in a blink. She turned around with a big rifle in her hand. Your eyes widened. She shot Joel in his kneecap. Joel let out a guttural scream that made your stomach twist. And he fell face first on the ground.

“JOEL!”, you yelled and kneeled by his side to hold him. You glowered at Abby. “FUCK YOU!”, you were full on sobbing now. Your vision was blurry, your speech wobbly and your hands were violently shaking. All you could see was that Joel was writhing next to you and your ears rang with the gunshot and his screams. “Hey, hey, hey, baby. It’s okay, I’m here. I know it hurts, Joel. C‘mon, get up for me, baby”, you soothed him with a tearful, whiny voice. You helped him turn on his back. He let out more pained grunts and screams. You tore your shirt’s hem and tied it around his knee, as a makeshift torniquet. The fabric was quickly sopping wet from the blood, it flowed through it and stained your hands a crimson colour. Manny looked at you two with thinly veiled surprise on his face.

“Baby, come on-I know it hurts”, you tried to get him to look at you but his eyes were tightly shut in pain. You held his head in your lap and caressed his cheek gently. You had shut out the background noise from your ears- your entire body tuned into Joel. Your face was damp with tears and your hands were sticky with his blood. You wanted to cut off your hands. Joel gasped in pain and held your forearm. “I know baby, I know it hurts. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Joel”, you apologised to him and kissed his forehead. You were about to turn around and cuss out Abby again before Mel sat down next to you and you fixed her with a glare.

“It’s just a tourniquet. Please”, she showed her belt to you and raised her arms up. Your teary, red face looked at her in anger. You helped Joel sit up carefully and let her torniquet his knee. He let out whimpers and loud grunts of pain. You kissed his shoulder, whispering reassurances in his ear, “It’s okay, it’s okay”, and you took a look at his face. He was breathing so quickly that you were worried he was going to hyperventilate. He sucked in harsh breaths and gritted his teeth before shooting Manny a look.

Manny’s face was blank- whether he was uncomfortable with what Abby did or because of you and Joel, you don’t know. But you looked at him with disappointment and anger radiating through your whole being and he turned his gaze away from you.

Mel tightened the torniquet around Joel’s knee and he screamed in pain once again. Your face twisted in agony and you braced yourself against him, an arm curled around his bicep tightly, other arm supporting his back and your face buried in his shoulder. You couldn’t take it anymore. You’ve never heard those sounds from Joel’s mouth before and you wished you’d die before you heard them again. Manny looked at you with longing but his face flickered with a sick satisfaction. Mel finished tightening the torniquet and Joel finally leaned back on his hand and took deep breaths in to calm down. He leaned himself against your side, exhausted, and you brought him closer to lean his head on your shoulder. You kissed his hair. Abby approached you two and kneeled in front of Joel. “You’re tough. I guess you probably have to be, killing all those people”, she smiled sarcastically.

“Get the fuck away from him before I blow your brains out”, you growled at her, your bloodshot eyes staring at her sharply. She shot you an amused look. “You’re so lucky. Got two men protecting you and that’s why I can’t hurt you, unfortunately”, she said with a fake upset-tone lacing her voice.

You looked at her in confusion and Joel growled. “Don’t talk to her.” She turned to look at Joel with an annoyed look in her eyes.

“Did you count as you went, or…I guess maybe it just didn’t matter?”, she shrugged in a nonchalant way. Joel gulped harshly to swallow his pain and tried to sit up. Abby finally confessed about her being the daughter of the doctor that Joel killed in Salt Lake. You scoffed, you were almost going to tell her off but Joel grasped your hand in his and squeezed it, to tell you to stop. His lip was quivering as he was going down the memory of that fateful day.

She then went on and on about some stupid fucking code that was taught to her by her commander and warned Joel to not to go to Seattle and that he wouldn’t get a chance to. You gritted your teeth and stared her down, your hands itching to pick up a gun and shoot her then and there. She then surprised you by running her hand across his forehead and called him helpless in a fake pitiful way.

“And your….girlfriend? Can’t even do anything because she knows it would be stupid. Isn’t that right?”, she asked you condescendingly.

You rolled your eyes in annoyance, bored with her so called monologue.

She leaned back, and then her face shifted into something psychotic. Like a switch was flipped. Abby looked at Manny and subtly nodded her head. Manny clenched his fists and made his way over to you before picking you up.

“What- leave me the fuck alone, Manny!”, you glowered and thrashed against him, hitting his chest. Joel turned to look at you with panic in his eyes. He shifted his focus on Manny, his gaze murderous. “Don’t touch her-”, he growled and tried to get up when Manny kicked him in the ribs and he fell back, grunting.

“Joel! No- please. Manny, please stop this”, you clawed at Manny’s arms and almost begged him. “The less you struggle, the less he’ll suffer, (nickname)”, Manny murmured in your ear. Your body was shaking with sobs, reaching for Joel helplessly. He was in so much pain it made your chest hurt. Joel grunted and sat up slowly to reassure you in his soft, caring voice. “I’m alright, honey. I’m here, it’s okay.”

You shook your head in desperation, your throat scratchy from all the crying. You thrashed against Manny harder and he trapped your arms before holding you at gun point, pressing the cold gun against your temple. “I’ll kill you, Manny. You know that”, you warned him. He knew you could become feral if you had to. He knew you were capable of disarming him and killing him then and there. But you were vulnerable right now and he was going to use it for his advantage. "I know, angel”, he simply agreed with you and pressed you tighter against his chest, his gun pressing harshly against your temple.

“Stop. Stop it. You want me, leave her alone. Please”, Joel begged in a shaky voice. You sobbed harder, he’s never begged in front of such losers before. Abby chuckled. “Oh well, we don’t want to hurt her anyways.”

Your heart fell down to your stomach.

-

Part 2

AN: sorry for the cliffhanger, i had to split it in two part because i don't wanna bore yall with long fics!!

[sinning-23]

Backseat Pillow Princess (Pt.2)

And by popular demand (and because ei couldn't just leave it how I had it and planned on making a part 2 anyway) I BRING YOU PT.2! I really tried to conjure of some kinky freak nasty shit in this y'all so uhhh just be dually noted that I really tried my best with this.

Warnings: tag-team, p in v, multiple rounds, refractory period? we don't know her, creampie, unprotected, biting, choking, eiffel tower in a fucking car dude it gets wicked, nipple play, edging, degrading, praise, light banter, how did we end up outside the gd car????, spit as lube

Hope yall enjoy lol the endingit idk ill probably tweak it later yall pls dotn shame me i was starting to feel bad for makingyall wait so long!

Enjoy~

PT.1 HERE

______________________________________________________________

It all happens so fast that you can hardly register the clash of teeth and tongue. You can feel the growl that rises up his throat and past his lips on your own, the taste metallic but sweet.

You’re breathless, Wade attacking your neck with the same speed and intensity. Your senses are overwhelmed, body riding a 9-hour (give or take) high.

"You are a fucking sicko, you’re soaked through the leather." Logan grunts, tugging your lower lip with his canines,

"Forget that, look at her tits," Wade gasps, looking at the little bumps your hardened nipples made through the fabric.

Part of you should feel embarrassed but you can’t seem to function when there're two separate mouths and two pairs of hands adorning your body. If your uniform wasn't torn to shreds, it definitely was now, a familiar set of claws slicing latex leather away from your flesh easily.

"Great now what am I supposed to wear when this is over?! At least be a little nice to me!" You huff, peeling the shredded fabric away before attacking the older man before you.

A bit surprised, Logan leans back against the door, your chest flush against him as your breaths mix, hot and heavy in the space. You can feel Wade shift, large hands at your hips with your ass against his pelvis. Finding Logan’s zipper was easy, your fingertips tugging at it as you caught his lower lip between your teeth.

"C'mon let's make this fair. I’m the only one showing some skin.” You purr, pulling the little piece of metal down to reveal tanned, toned abs. The thin sheen of sweat and blood makes them glisten.

You practically drool, the sight of them in the moonlight now seared into your brain.

"Jesus you're built like a brick fucking wall-" You gasp, hesitating to touch before running your hands down Logan's chest, then stomach.

"Like a godddamn marble sculpture," Wade adds, taking his chance to admiring the man beneath the both of you.

He chuckles a bit, shrugging his sleeves off before connecting your lips again. It’s shot though, mostly because you can’t help but look at him.

“Nuh uh, lemme see you.” You command, pushing him back against the door.

He groans, your lip tucking beteeen your teeth as you presses kisses to his pulse, trailing downward as his neck flexed perfectly with the rest of his torso and stomach.

“Gorgeous.” You mumble, finally making your way down to his v-line before licking a stripe right back towards, ending it with a faint bite.

“Shame I can’t mark you up how I want, you’ll just heal it.” You sigh, thumbs tracing Logan’s belt now.

You grind down, a heavy, “oh fuck,” leaving your lips as Wade chuckles from behind you. Speaking of which, he had managed to pull your uniform a little past your ass, his hands squeezing the flesh there.

Of course you can’t help but tilt your head back, accepting sloppy open-mouth kisses from the mercenary when he cups your pussy from behind. Purposefully dragging his middle finger between your folds, his mouth swallows up your whimpers, a grin ever present over the lower half of his scarred face.

"Shit you weren't lying, she is soaked." Wade huffs, licking a stipe up your neck, his chest flush against your back

"You know I had to find a way to get your attention, I was starting to feel left out?" Wade taunts, his ring and middle finger two-knuckles deep in you, the squelching echoing.

Logan, eager to please makes a point to suck a mouthful of your tits, his canines grazing over them. He growls, breathing hot against your skin. His free hand cups your other, thumb swiping over your nipple as your palm presses down against his bulge.

"You gonna take it out or just keep pushing on it?" Logan grumbles, hips rolling into you.

It's hard to think, pleasure flooding your senses as you try your hand at helping his length spring free. Fuck, he's rock hard. And soon enough it's in your hand, hard, hot, and dripping with precum.

If you had to give an example of a photogenic dick, his would be at the top of your list. It's got a slight upward bend, the tip slightly tanned as beads of precum rolled down the side. And right beside that slick train that oozes downward, is a thick vein adorned by a smaller one. Your mouth waters, tongue lulling out of your mouth to taste it.

You're stopped, however, when Wade grips your hair, reminding you that HE is the one with his fingers in you, making your pussy drool with each thrust.

You pause, squeezing the base of Logan's dick in response, just to have the male sigh heavily under you.

"Almost lost your manners huh? That's okay I'll help you." Wade announces, seeing the brief irritation flash behind Logan's hazel eyes.

"You ask when you want something," Wade huffs, tone low and dangerous.

You swallow hard, taking a deep breath through your nose before using your thumb to press down on the tip.

"Please?" You whimper, mouth watering now, needing nothing more than to wrap your lips around his length.

"Please what, honey?" Logan encourages, using his thumb to push past your kiss-bitten lips and press down on your tongue, the saliva dripping down his palm and forearm.

"Please let me suck it." You finish, a satisfied grin finally filling Logan's features.

He nods his head in your direction, his fist at the base as you roll your tongue out your mouth, engulfing the tip, tasting the bittersweet precum slide down your throat. He groans, releasing his hand the farther down you go.

You thank the gods above for your almost nonexistent gag reflex, because once you got a feel for just how he settled in your mouth,you wasted to time getting him acclimated to your throat.

"Fuckkkk that's it, honey, swallow." He grunts, flashing those pretty canines as you do exactly what he says, the flex of your throat making his hand shoot to your head.

Between the feeling of you gulping Logan down and Wade's fingers still stretching you out, you're bound to reach your peak at any minute now. And then you feel it.

Empty for a moment, and finally...

"What, you didn't think I was getting this pussy ready for nothing did you?" Wade chuckles, your spine shivering when his tip slid between your aching wetness.

Arching more, Wade grabs a nice handful of the flesh between your hips and your ass, easily filling your needy cunt as you lift your head, gasping in response to the stretch. A sign of saliva connects your lower lip to the slightly reddened tip of Logan's cock. All you can do is whimper, bracing yourself as Wade thrusts into you, pace quick and calculated.

"F-uck!' You hum, each thrust breakign up the syllabus

Your hands scrath at Logan's chest, using him as an anchor to keep yourself from cumming too quickly. He only chuckles, tugging your hair to place a bruising kiss on your lips, his free hand using your saliva to pick up where you'd left off.

"Squeezing, fuck you're tight." Wade huffs, teeth sinking into your shoulder as Logan's lips swallow up your painfully pleasured whine.

"Close, so close, need it" Is all you can muster up, your hips now meeting his in an attempt to speed the process up.

And sure enough, the knot that had worked its way into your core finally snaps, your strangled moans filling up and pouring out the Honda, your head throwing itself back, as you ride out the high. All you can hear are praises and encouragement from behind and in front of you, all of which are fading in and out as your ears ring.

'Thats it'

'C'mon honey give it to me'

'Good fucking girl'

'So wet holy shit'

'Look how fuckin pretty you are'

'That arch, jesus christ'

"Sooo good, oh fuck yes." You whine, tucking your lower lip between your teeth.

Once your eyes manage to flicker back open, you're met with the prettiest view, and you gasp at the sight, already feeling yourself ready for another round.

Thee he was, eyes screwed shut, brows creasing as his chest rises and falls in time with his fist, which was now dripping with thick, silky looking ropes of cum. His jaw is clenched, a growl bubbling past his lips as you reach your hand down to help guide him, the substance coating your fingertips.

"You look so pretty when you cum." You hum, then grabbing his jaw to give another forecefull yet intimate kiss, your tongues slipping past one another.

“My turn,” Logan growls, pulling the door open in one swift movement before tugging your body outside the car.

You gasp, legs feeling more like jelly after Wade had already turned your insides to mush.

You wobble a bit, using the edge of the door to steady yourself before you’re stuffed full again. An overstimulated moan forces its its way out of you. He feels even better inside than in your palm. And yet, he doesn’t move, the sound of Logan’s hollow, shaky breaths mere centimetres from your ear.

“Oh honey.” He groans, his hips moving just to slam back into you, a pleasured yelp leaving your lips in response.

“Can hardly take it, look at you fucking shaking.” He chuckles, sinking his teeth into your shoulder, your head falling foreward as you’re overwhelmed with so many different feelings. The pain from the fight mixed with the pleasure from his strokes and the previous orgasm.

“Don’t- oh Fuckk. Don’t patronize me-.” You whimper, gripping the edge of the door for dear life, the smack of his pelvis to your ass loud and rhythmic.

As if you weren’t already fucked out, Wade managed to scoot riiiiight in front of you, just enough so that his cock is resting against your cheek, and god does your mouth water.

“Let’s keep you busy, huh sweetie?” Wade hums, his tip pressing against your glossy lower lip.

You’re eager to accept, letting your tongue roll around the head before taking as much of him as you can. Every slight thrust of his hips pushed him further and further down your throat, alive dripping down your chin and onto the torn, blood-stained seats below.

It doesn’t take long before you’re right back to square one, legs trembling as your labored breaths quicken in pace.

“Ohhh fuck, squeezing. You’re about to cum arent you honey?” Logan chuckles, squeezing the flesh of your hip before landing a brutal smack to your ass.

He smirks at the sight of the recoil, and doesn’t it again, each smack leaving a nice shade of red. You don’t even have a chance to warn him before you cum, the blissful feeling making you shudder, throat coated with sticky release as Wade tangles his fingers in your scalp.

What you weren’t expecting, was for your release to trickle down your thighs, each thrust only making your squelch more and more. The familiar twinge of overstimulation ravages your senses as you swallow down Wade’s release.

And unfortunately, you’re empty again, peeking over your shoulder just to see Logan finishing on the perfect curve of your back. The pearly beads of cum rolling down your ass and up your spine.

There’s a few beats of silence, paired with the laibored breathes or three violent and fucked out regenerarive assholes.

But of course, Wades specially is breaking silence.

“Hey how come you didn’t squirt for me?” He huffs in faux disappointment.

You can practically hear Logan roll his eyes, whom of which had made a point to massage where he had hit earlier.

“Please shut the fuck up.” Logan huffs, shuffling around the car to either A: find something to clean you up with or B: something for you to wear.

Either way, you're beyond fucked out, the previous tension finally dying down as you're bathed in moonlight. It takes a little effort from the two males but they successfully lean you against the middle console.

Lucky for you, there just so happened to be an extra set of clothes hidden in the trunk most likely belonging to the variant you got this stupid car from anyway.

Meh, I think missing clothes will be the least of his worries considering this piece of shit car is absolutely thrashed...

And now tainted with spit and cum-

Tag list: @awoodsysimp411 @solheartz @brucebannerswifey @oscarissac2099 @yourlocalhot-simp @of-daisies-and-dandelions @peachybaby255 @bby-pinky-pink @mimi786 @bontensbabygirl @jupiterlvr @silverloveless @saturnhas82moons @zeeader @queermaxwooo @turtlefordestiel @dumpster-hellfire @kultofkorii @mxtaurus @bumblebeebutter @buryth3hatchet @9iavolo @speedybeta @myersobsessed

[withthecolorizedkennedys]

jfk and rfk x reader love triangle maybeee threesome soshsjakhdhfhd

Democracy in Action (Between the Sheets)

synopsis: you thought you were caught in a tug-of-war between jack and bobby—turns out, they’d rather share. what follows is less of a competition and more of a collaboration.

word count: 2.5k

pairing: john f. kennedy x reader, robert f. kennedy x reader, robert f. kennedy x reader x john. f kennedy rating: 18+; includes depictions of threesomes

author's note: i am so sorry if this let you down!!! this is my first time writing something involving a threesome haahsgkdsh

The first time you met Jack Kennedy, you'd been working as a secretary at the State Department. He was a freshman congressman then—charming, irreverent, with a smile that made you forget your own name. The second time you met him, he took you to dinner at Martin's Tavern. By the third meeting, you were in his bed.

Bobby came later. You'd been seeing Jack for nearly six months when his younger brother appeared at a campaign function. Where Jack was all easy charm and practiced seduction, Bobby was intensity wrapped in quiet determination. He watched you from across the room with those piercing eyes, and you felt something shift inside you.

"My brother's quite taken with you," Bobby had said when Jack stepped away to greet supporters. His voice was softer than Jack's, but no less commanding.

"I'm quite taken with him too," you replied, though you couldn't help but notice how Bobby's gaze lingered on your lips.

Three weeks later, after a heated argument with Jack about his latest indiscretion with a blonde socialite, you found yourself at Bobby's apartment, seeking comfort. The comfort turned to conversation, conversation to confessions, and confessions to his mouth on yours, urgent and possessive.

"Jack can't know," Bobby had whispered against your neck. "Not yet."

But secrets had a way of revealing themselves. Jack had suspected something was happening between you and Bobby for months. The way his brother looked at you across dinner tables. The way you sometimes mentioned Bobby's name with a slight flush to your cheeks.

Jack never confronted you directly. Instead, he became more attentive, more passionate—as if determined to remind you why you'd fallen for him first. The brothers' natural competitiveness extended to you, though neither acknowledged it openly.

For six months, you'd been caught between them. Jack, with his wit and charm, his ability to make you laugh even as he drove you mad with his wandering eye. Bobby, with his fierce loyalty and intensity, the way he looked at you like you were the only woman in the world.

Tonight was supposed to be just you and Jack. He'd invited you to his Georgetown townhouse, promising an intimate dinner. You wore the blue dress he liked, the one that matched your eyes and clung to your curves in a way that made his gaze darken with desire.

When you arrived, Jack greeted you with a kiss that lingered, his hands already finding the small of your back, pulling you against him.

"I've been thinking about you all day," he murmured, his Boston accent thickening as it always did when he wanted you.

The knock at the door came just as Jack was pouring the wine.

"Expecting someone?" you asked, suddenly anxious.

Jack frowned. "No."

When he opened the door, Bobby stood there, a file folder in hand. "Jack, I need to discuss the—" His words died when he saw you sitting on the sofa, wine glass in hand.

The air in the room changed instantly, charged with an electricity that made your skin prickle.

"Bobby," Jack said, his voice neutral but his eyes sharp. "What a surprise."

"I didn't realize you had company." Bobby's gaze moved from you to Jack, then back to you. "I can come back tomorrow."

"Nonsense," Jack said, stepping aside. "Come in. Have a drink with us."

You watched the silent communication between the brothers—a language of glances and subtle shifts in posture that you'd come to recognize but couldn't fully translate.

Bobby hesitated, then entered, setting the folder on a side table. Jack poured him a glass of wine, and the three of you sat in the living room, the conversation strained with unspoken tensions.

Jack sat beside you on the sofa, his hand resting possessively on your knee. Bobby took the armchair across from you, his eyes tracking Jack's hand on your body.

"We were just about to have dinner," Jack said, his thumb tracing small circles on your knee. "You should join us, Bobby."

"I wouldn't want to intrude," Bobby replied, though his eyes never left you.

"It's no intrusion," Jack insisted. Then, with a casualness that belied the weight of his words: "After all, we're all… close friends here, aren't we?"

Your breath caught. Did he know? Had he always known?

Bobby's jaw tightened. "Jack—"

"Let's not pretend," Jack interrupted, his hand sliding higher on your thigh. "I know my brother, and I know you." He turned to you, his eyes dark with something between desire and challenge. "The question is, what are we going to do about it?"

Your heart hammered against your ribs. "What do you mean?"

Jack's smile was dangerous, thrilling. "I mean, why choose?"

Bobby stood abruptly. "This isn't appropriate."

"Since when have Kennedys concerned themselves with what's appropriate?" Jack laughed, but there was an edge to it. He turned to you. "Tell him to stay."

The moment stretched between the three of you, taut with possibility. You looked at Bobby, saw the conflict in his eyes—desire warring with propriety, with brotherly loyalty.

"Stay," you said softly.

Something shifted in Bobby's expression. He sat back down, his posture rigid.

Jack's hand moved higher on your thigh, under the hem of your dress. "I've seen how you look at her, Bobby," he said, his voice low. "And I've seen how she looks at you."

"Jack," Bobby warned.

"No more secrets," Jack continued. He leaned in, his lips brushing your ear. "Tell him what you want."

Your mouth went dry. The wine in your glass trembled slightly with the shaking of your hand. "I want… both of you."

The admission hung in the air, impossible to take back.

Bobby's eyes darkened. Jack's hand tightened on your thigh.

"Come here," Jack said to his brother, his voice commanding in a way that brooked no argument.

Bobby hesitated only a moment before moving to the sofa, sitting on your other side. The heat of the two men pressed against you made your head swim.

Jack's mouth found yours first, hungry and demanding. When he pulled away, he nudged you toward Bobby. "Show him how you kiss me."

Bobby's kiss was different—more restrained at first, then breaking into something desperate and needy. Jack watched, his hand still on your thigh, moving higher.

"Beautiful," Jack murmured, and you weren't sure if he meant you or the sight of you with his brother.

Bobby's hand cupped your face, his thumb tracing your cheekbone as he deepened the kiss. Jack's fingers found the zipper of your dress, slowly drawing it down your back. The cool air hit your skin, making you shiver.

"Stand up," Jack commanded softly.

You did, your legs unsteady. Jack tugged your dress down, letting it pool at your feet. You stood before the Kennedy brothers in nothing but your lingerie and heels, feeling their eyes roam over your body.

"Christ," Bobby whispered.

Jack stood, circling behind you. His hands slid around your waist, up to cup your breasts through the silk of your bra. "Look at her, Bobby. Have you ever seen anything so perfect?"

Bobby remained seated, his eyes dark with desire, his breathing visibly quickened. "Jack, if this is some kind of game—"

"No game," Jack interrupted, his lips on your neck. "Just us. The three of us, being honest for once."

You reached out a hand to Bobby. "Please."

He took it, rising to stand before you. Jack continued to kiss your neck, his hands roaming your body from behind while Bobby stood frozen in front of you.

"Touch her," Jack encouraged his brother.

Bobby's hands were tentative at first, then grew bolder as they skimmed up your sides, over your ribs, to meet Jack's at your breasts. The sensation of four hands on your body, two mouths—Jack's on your neck, Bobby's now on your collarbone—sent heat pooling between your legs.

Jack unhooked your bra, letting it fall away. Bobby's breath hitched as he took in the sight of you. His mouth descended to your breast, tongue circling your nipple while Jack's fingers pinched the other.

"Let's move this to the bedroom," Jack suggested, his voice rough with desire.

The walk to Jack's bedroom was a blur of hands and mouths, of clothing being shed. By the time you reached the bed, Bobby was down to his undershirt and trousers, Jack in just his pants. You were completely naked, skin flushed with arousal.

Jack lay back on the bed, pulling you on top of him. "Come here," he said to Bobby, who still stood at the foot of the bed, watching.

Bobby hesitated only a moment before joining you. You crawled up, straddling Jack’s chest, but he caught your hips and tugged you higher—guiding you until your thighs framed his face. You were facing Bobby now, your knees braced on either side of Jack’s head, the heat of his breath ghosting over your skin.

"That’s it, sweetheart," Jack murmured, his hands firm on your hips before dipping lower, pulling you down to meet his mouth.

You gasped, hands clutching at Bobby's shoulders for support. Bobby's mouth found yours, swallowing your moans as Jack's tongue worked against you. Bobby's hands cupped your breasts, thumbs brushing over your nipples in time with Jack's ministrations.

"She tastes incredible, Bobby," Jack murmured against you. "You should find out for yourself."

Bobby's eyes met yours, seeking permission. You nodded, breathless.

They shifted positions, Jack moving to sit at the head of the bed while Bobby settled between your legs. The first touch of Bobby's tongue made you arch off the bed. Where Jack had been skilled and practiced, Bobby was eager and thorough, his hands gripping your thighs to hold you open for him.

Jack watched, his eyes dark with lust. He guided your head to his lap. "Show Bobby how good you are with that pretty mouth."

You took Jack into your mouth, moaning around him as Bobby's tongue delved deeper inside you. The dual sensations—Bobby between your legs, Jack between your lips—were overwhelming. Jack's hand tangled in your hair, guiding your rhythm.

"That's it," Jack encouraged, his voice strained. "Take me deeper."

You complied, relaxing your throat to take more of him while Bobby's tongue circled your clit, his fingers now sliding inside you. The pressure built rapidly, your body caught between the two men, used and pleasured from both ends.

Your orgasm hit suddenly, making you cry out around Jack's length. Bobby didn't relent, his mouth working you through the waves of pleasure until you were trembling.

Jack pulled you up, kissing you deeply, tasting himself on your tongue. "I want to watch you ride Bobby," he said against your lips.

Bobby had stripped completely now, sitting back against the headboard. Jack guided you to him, helping you straddle his brother. Bobby's hands gripped your hips as you sank down onto him, both of you groaning at the sensation.

Jack positioned himself behind you, his chest to your back, hands reaching around to cup your breasts as you began to move on Bobby. "That's it," Jack murmured in your ear. "Show him how you move for me."

You rode Bobby slowly at first, then with increasing urgency. Jack's hands roamed your body, occasionally reaching down to where you and Bobby were joined, his fingers circling your clit.

"Jack," Bobby groaned, his hips thrusting up to meet yours. "I can't—"

"Not yet," Jack commanded. He moved away briefly, returning with something in his hand. You felt the cool touch of lubricant between your cheeks, Jack's finger circling your other entrance.

"Have you ever taken both of us?" Jack asked, his finger pressing gently inside.

You shook your head, breathless at the new sensation.

"Do you want to?" His finger pressed deeper, preparing you.

"Yes," you gasped, the word barely audible.

Jack worked you open carefully, adding a second finger while you continued to move on Bobby. The dual sensations were intense, bordering on overwhelming.

When Jack finally positioned himself behind you, the head of his cock pressing against your prepared entrance, Bobby stilled beneath you. "Are you sure?" Bobby asked, his eyes meeting yours.

You nodded, beyond words.

Jack pushed forward slowly, the stretch burning despite his preparation. You gasped, caught between pain and pleasure as both Kennedy brothers filled you completely.

"Breathe," Jack instructed, his voice strained with the effort of holding still.

Gradually, the discomfort faded, replaced by a fullness that bordered on transcendent. When you began to move, the sensation of both men inside you, separated by only the thinnest barrier, was unlike anything you'd experienced.

They found a rhythm—Jack pulling back as Bobby thrust up, never leaving you empty. Your body was a bridge between them, connecting the brothers in the most intimate way possible.

Jack's hand snaked around to rub your clit as they moved within you. "Come for us," he commanded. "Let us feel you."

Your second orgasm was more powerful than the first, your body clenching around both men, drawing them deeper. Bobby came first, his fingers digging into your hips as he pulsed inside you. Jack followed moments later, his teeth grazing your shoulder as he found his release.

The three of you collapsed in a tangle of limbs, sweat-slicked and breathless. For several minutes, no one spoke, the only sound in the room your collective breathing gradually slowing.

Jack was the first to move, extracting himself carefully before disappearing into the bathroom. Bobby held you against his chest, his heartbeat gradually steadying beneath your ear.

"Are you all right?" he asked softly, his hand stroking your hair.

You nodded, too spent for words.

When Jack returned, he brought a warm washcloth, cleaning you with surprising tenderness. The brothers yet again exchanged a look over your head—something unspoken passing between them that you couldn't decipher.

"What happens now?" you finally asked, voicing the question that hung in the air.

Jack stretched out beside you, his hand finding yours. "Now? Now we sleep. Tomorrow…" He shrugged, that familiar Kennedy smile playing at his lips. "Tomorrow we figure it out."

Bobby's arm tightened around you. "Jack's right. For tonight, let's just be."

You settled between them, Jack's chest to your back, Bobby's to your front. As sleep began to claim you, you felt the tension that had existed between the brothers ease slightly. Whatever competition had driven them before seemed temporarily sated.

In the morning, you knew, the complications would return. The world outside this bedroom would intrude with all its expectations and judgments. But for now, caught between two of the most promising political scions in Washington, you allowed yourself to simply exist in the moment.

Just before you drifted off, you felt Jack's lips at your ear. "I always did like sharing with Bobby," he murmured, "but I never expected to enjoy it quite this much."

Bobby's soft chuckle rumbled against your chest. "For once, brother, we're in complete agreement."

[quasi-normalcy]

Introducing: "The Blizzard of the World" (A Theory of Magic, book 1)

The problem, of course, is that I don’t understand. Not at all about anything. We physicists liked to say that the universe could still surprise us, but we never really meant it. “Surprises” were supposed to come in the data: a subatomic particle behaving aberrantly; a galaxy three billion lightyears away giving off an unexpected radiation profile. Not technology arbitrarily ceasing to function for no reason. Not magic or fairies or fucking ghosts whispering to us in the dark. The “Shift,” as we’d come to call it, had come over the world gradually. It’s difficult to say precisely when it began—there’d always been a certain “background noise” of unexplained happenings going on in the world, low enough in frequency and intensity that you could ignore it, or reassure yourself that any given instance would prove to be a hoax or have some obscure-but-rational explanation if you just took the time to look into it. And when this background noise started to pick up, the obvious explanation had still been deception: fake news; post-truth politics; new technologies making it easier to doctor video than ever before. Even when an epidemic of disappearances had broken out, it had been easy to assume that it was just mass-media hype; your standard moral panic about traffickers. Electricity and the Internet had started going out and we blamed deregulation; well-established experiments started churning out anomalous results and we blamed planned obsolescence by equipment manufacturers; fish had rained from the sky and we’d blamed climate-change-induced waterspouts. And then a dragon the size of a Hercules plane had landed on Fort Knox and claimed it as its treasure hoard, and suddenly our explanations had failed us. Everything had fallen apart quickly after that. Markets collapsed; riots broke out due to runs on consumer goods; in Switzerland, CERN held a press conference to announce that the laws of physics seemed to have changed—though they couldn’t say how. The last international news that I’d heard before the power had crapped out once and for all had been about a mysterious army of glassy-faced figures in shining armour, coming out of nowhere to march on Washington DC. Three days after that, I’d personally gotten to watch a similar army marching on Parliament Hill here in Ottawa, bringing an unnatural winter in its wake. It’s difficult to overstate the shock of it. On Monday of that week, I had been living in a rational universe governed by perfect, inviolable mathematical laws. By Saturday, I’d become a vassal of someone called the Winter Queen, and reality itself seemed to bow to the whims of petty tyrants. And now, two weeks later, I am cold, I am hungry, and ghosts are real.

Hello everyone! I figured I would take the advice of that post I reblogged above and try putting up a part of my novel on AO3! I'm still planning to serialize it as a podcast, and I already have a publisher lined up, but I want to see how it plays with the crowd here.

[adore-laur]

MILESTONES

— a series of firsts from the dadrry universe 🩵

——

The First Hunch

Intuition seemed to follow Harry around the house like a ghostly shadow.

The irregular morning sickness could have been entirely coincidental. But the moment you lost the hopeless battle of keeping your eyes open and eventually drifted off beside him was the indisputable sign he had been seeking. You, the person he knew like the back of his hand, were succumbing to a nap before dinner. The notably rare occurrence was a spectacle to behold, and he didn't move a single muscle except for his heart, which wildly thumped in his chest at the mere thought of it being true.

You had to be pregnant. No other conclusion could be drawn.

When you awoke an hour later in an evening daze with the sunset’s mellow light casting a silhouette of the open shutters on your face, Harry found it amusing how disoriented your expression was. It was almost as if you were astonished at how your body managed to do a simple human function, such as letting yourself fall asleep. He gazed down at you and raised his eyebrows with an unspoken assumption of what you had been so futilely denying.

Before he could make a witty comment, you yawned and said, “Don't say anything.”

Harry kissed your forehead and knowingly smiled against it. "Just take a test, love. There's no use in putting it off any longer."

"I'm scared,” you mumbled.

"Why?" he asked softly, wrapping a comforting arm around your shoulders. You rubbed your tired eyes while sinking into his embrace. "We've talked about how much we want this."

"It's still scary.”

Harry swallowed thickly. Hell, he was scared too. Priorities shift monumentally once a baby is born and brought home to be raised for eighteen years. How did a person even go about preparing for that enormous responsibility? It was always nice to fantasize about until the harsh realities of parenthood caused him to mentally spiral.

"Well," he said with a loving pinch to your cheek, "I think it's a girl."

You grinned into the sleeve of his sweatshirt. "Have you been reading up on things already?"

"Maybe," he mused. Setting his bare feet on the ottoman, he said, "Look at me for a second." You did, and he absentmindedly stroked his knuckles across your stomach. "You don't think you're pregnant?”

A wary pause ensued. Your unintentional signals were as clear as day.

"I think I am," you whispered.

"For real?"

"Harry, you're the one who's so confident that I am."

"I know, but do you actually feel like there's a baby?" His palms turned clammy when he said it out loud. "It's your body. I'm just guessing based on parenting blogs I browse online."

You pursed your lips, then replied, "What else could it be? My period was supposed to start two weeks ago. And I've been nauseated recently."

"Do you want to take a test soon?" he asked, trying to steady his ragged breathing.

You nodded briskly. "Sure. I'll buy some after work tomorrow."

"Promise me," he pleaded, a slight impatience taking over him of wanting—no, needing—to confirm it once and for all.

"I promise. We'll find out this week." You were deliberately quiet for a moment before you asked, "Why do you think it's a girl?"

Harry immediately perked up and held his pointer finger in the air. "An old wives' tale claims that—"

"Stop right there," you interrupted with a hand to his chest.

"No, hear me out." He laughed contagiously and cradled your cheeks. "They say if you crave sweets, then it's a girl. Remember when you begged me to make cinnamon rolls for breakfast a couple of days ago? I had to go to the store for more milk because you were on the verge of tears."

You narrowed your eyes. "Everyone gets cravings, though. It doesn't mean they're pregnant or that they’re having a girl."

He frowned and said, "You're starting to sound like you don't want to be pregnant."

"I do," you replied frantically, kissing his precious pout away. "I do, Harry. I want a baby with you more than anything."

"Then let's find out. There's nothing to be afraid of."

——

The First Heartbeat 

Boundless possibilities could leave you in a state of serenity, absolute shambles, or somewhere in-between. The thin paper on the exam table crunched under you when you shifted restlessly for the umpteenth time. Your jittery limbs bounced with each second that noisily ticked by on the clock. With your shirt bunched up to your ribcage, you awaited the gel that would be spread on your stomach. The skin there had become a little firmer during the previous week, yet somehow pudgier.

Harry stood beside you, his face visibly flushed with an equal amount of anxiousness. He looked around the room with observant eyes, scanning the daunting equipment and educational pamphlets that presented themselves to eager parents-to-be.

He had gotten off work early and rushed to the hospital to meet you, still in his grubby clothes he wore in the restaurant kitchen. You had noticed his fingernails were bitten raw when he grabbed your elbow and leaned in for a quick kiss. Gentle and nervous smiles were exchanged before the two of you walked down the hallway toward the elevators, your arms looped around his waist.

As the ultrasound gel was applied with an icy sensation that made you jolt, you held your breath and locked eyes with your husband.

"Is it cold?" he whispered, wringing his hands together.

"Yeah," you answered just as quietly.

The room was so still, you could have probably heard a pin drop. You inhaled deeply when the doctor moved the transducer wand around your lower stomach. Harry cleared his throat and broke eye contact with you to watch the computer screen that displayed a blurry black-and-white view of your womb. It was strange to see the inside of your body, and even stranger to know a baby was growing in there.

After a painstaking moment of silence, the device finally picked up on the most gorgeous, muffled heartbeat. It wasn't your own, and it wasn't Harry's—it was your baby's. A lub-dub rhythm that was your responsibility to bring into the world.

Harry whistled in amazement and pressed two shaky fingers against his lips. He glanced between you and the screen several times before touching his chest and rubbing the spot where his heart was. A reaction took over him that you had never seen before. Tears welled in his eyes, and a transfixed smile dimpled his cheeks. A sentimental ache bloomed in your chest, caused by love for him and his vulnerability.

"They have a very strong and healthy heartbeat," said the doctor while adjusting the screen monitor.

You stared at the ultrasound that showed a blob with no distinguishable features or anatomy, yet it was part of you and part of the man you lived and breathed for.

"Harry, look," you said through an emotionally tightened throat.

He crouched beside you and sniffled. "I see, sweetheart."

"How far along am I?" you asked the doctor, blindly reaching for Harry's hand.

"Around eight weeks," they told you, clicking their pocket pen and writing down information. "As for your due date, you guys will be looking forward to early November!"

Harry clutched your hand, leaving a prolonged kiss on your knuckles. "An autumn baby," he murmured against your skin. He then turned his attention to the doctor and asked, "Can we please have copies of the ultrasound pictures to hang on the fridge at home?"

The timing was perfect. The color of the leaves would change the same way your lives would change together. It would be a season filled with pure bliss and a turning of the tide. The end of the year would give you a love you could cherish forever.

——

The First Cry 

"Is she breathing?"

It was the first string of words that tumbled from Harry's mouth after you gave birth. Babies were supposed to cry once they came into the world. Why wasn't she crying? Where were the shrieks he had prepared for months to hear?

Nurses crowded around you as she was pulled out all the way and set on your chest, her squirming body sensitive to the air. It was beautiful chaos happening in slow motion. Harry felt like he was floating outside of his body, feeling a surreal concoction of confusion, euphoria, and hysteria.

"W-what... why isn't she crying?" you asked breathlessly. Your body was shaking due to the immediate shift in hormones.

Two nurses roughly rubbed your daughter with towels until she gurgled a high-pitched wail. Relief, relief, relief. Nothing could quite encapsulate Harry's raw emotion when he heard that sound come from a fresh pair of baby lungs. It was piercingly loud and overwhelming, yet heavenly to his ears.

Harry stepped forward with a wide smile. "There she is," he said, his voice scratchy. "She's fine, love. She's breathing."

Your hands, wavering and sweaty, cautiously cupped your daughter's fragile figure. With that first maternal touch, you broke down with a cascading waterfall of tears.

"Hi, baby girl," you cried happily. "Shh, it's okay. You scared us for a second."

Eyes glossy, lips trembling, and heart growing tenfold, Harry was lost in admiration. The scene surrounding him was a mess, but it was merely an afterthought in his mind. He had never been so mesmerized by someone except for the day he married you. Even so, this was a different type of love—one that had flourished over nine months and was now a tangible fondness lasting for eternity.

Absent nods and weak affirmations were given to the nurse's questions thrown his way. The bubble he was in simply couldn't be popped. You scooted over on the hospital bed so he could sit next to you while they suctioned his daughter's tiny mouth, nose, and ears. Her cries were still going strong, and Harry soaked them in as he smoothed his hand over the back of her small head. She had a decent amount of hair, courtesy of his genes, and something about that realization broke the dam behind his eyes.

When he blearily looked at your awestruck face, he knew he had made the right choice in picking the mother of his baby girl. And, if he got lucky, a couple other bundles of joy as well. It had to be you. No one else made him feel as complete as you did.

"We had a baby," you whispered in disbelief, staring up at him with eyes rapt in wonder.

Through his tears, Harry laughed with astonishment. "It was all you. Do you hear me? All you." He kissed your dewy cheek. "I'm so grateful. Thank you, thank you, thank you."

You exhaled heavily and murmured, "I'm starving."

"When we get home, I'm going to cook you the best damn meal you've ever had in your life."

——

The First Smile 

Harry entered the sunlit nursery with dragging movements similar to those of a zombie. He had only one sock on, and a staticky-sounding baby monitor was tucked under his armpit.

That morning, a whopping four hours of interrupted sleep was the new record. The days and nights blended together like watercolor on wet paper, and no amount of espresso shots or afternoon naps could cure his poor, sleep-deprived soul. His circadian rhythm had now changed to a cadence of chaos, and there was nothing he could do about it. The millisecond he became a dad, a certain little someone shifted to the number one spot on his list of priorities.

After turning on the lamp in the corner of the room and setting the baby monitor down, Harry leaned against the bassinet and let his baby girl's subsiding cries wake him up just like a freshly brewed pot of coffee would. The sound made him feel sad, but if getting up at the same time as the sun meant she could be soothed somehow (and that you could get more shut-eye), then he would do it over and over again.

Harry eventually reached down to pull his daughter's tiny body against his bare chest. It made his heart swell knowing she always calmed in his arms. "Already up and at 'em, huh?" he rasped, giving her his knuckle to suckle on since the whereabouts of her pacifier were unknown. She cooed and looked at him with curious eyes that resembled yours. "Why are you so precious all the time? Got me so wrapped around your finger that I couldn't possibly be mad at you for waking me up this early."

She kicked her legs outward, apparently a happy camper now that she had some attention from her dad. Harry shook his head in amusement. "Were those fake cries?" he accused lightheartedly.

Once he changed her diaper and stole a few minutes of snuggles before she started becoming fussy again, his next destination was the kitchen, where most mornings began as a new family of three. Opening the fridge decorated with baby pictures galore and a calendar scribbled full of upcoming postpartum appointments, he grabbed the first bag of breast milk he saw and then took an empty baby bottle out of the dishwasher so he could make her breakfast. He honestly couldn't remember the last time he had the energy to cook himself a nourishing meal before noon.

Harry attempted to screw on the cap of the bottle using only one hand since his other was being occupied by a hungry, babbling baby. His face grew hot with frustration when the cap kept resisting being twisted, and it definitely didn't help when the bottle tipped straight over, causing valuable milk to spill onto the counter. Nice going, idiot. That wasn't good at all. He dreaded delivering the news to you, especially considering you recently told him how pumping felt like an extreme sport.

"Well, that's just wonderful," he muttered while looking down at his daughter, wholly prepared for her to literally cry over spilled milk.

But no, she didn't cry. Instead, she smiled at him for the first time. A gummy, wonky baby smile that woke him right up.

Harry gasped in surprise and completely forgot about the milk mishap. "Are you smiling at me? Holy sh- I mean, shoot. We have to show Mommy. Wait, she's sleeping. Um, okay, hold on." He aimlessly scanned the kitchen for his phone, his heart pounding. "Keep smiling, okay? I need to take a picture of this."

He abandoned his self-made 'no phone around the baby' rule and rounded the corner of the island. In the process, he accidentally hit his side on the corner, causing him to stifle a groan. His clumsiness made his daughter smile even wider, along with a noise that could be interpreted as a giggle if he believed hard enough. And if he looked close enough, he could make out two miniature dimples indenting her cheeks.

He picked up his phone, and with the sunrise’s golden rays dancing over her happy face, he snapped a picture while his face beamed behind the camera. "Look at you," he cooed, pressing the capture button repeatedly. "Is my struggling funny to you? Hmm? Just wait until your mom sees this. She'll freak out."

After he put his phone away, which now had nineteen new keepsakes in its photo album, he observed her a little longer. At that moment, a sudden realization dawned on him: his daughter's smile looked a lot like his own.

——

The First Year 

Hot wax dripped from a candle in the shape of the number one, making a black mark on the cake's blue fondant. It took the combined respiratory strength of three people to blow the puny flame out. Afterward, there was a brief pause in the festivities to settle a crying baby because it escaped Harry's adult mind that babies don't know how candles—or birthdays in general—work.

The cake was made with admirable precision, which Harry somehow pulled off using his amateur cake-decorating skills from ages ago. Piped seashells made from buttercream frosting sat atop the circular cake, and a message of Happy Birthday was spelled out in dainty cursive icing. A graham cracker and sugar concoction caressed the bottom edges to resemble sand, and an impressive starfish cookie rested against the side. She wouldn't remember the cake or the day, but Harry definitely would.

Once some slices were eaten, it was time to clean up for the night. The cheap chandelier hanging over the kitchen table shined upon a dirty mess of paper plates, plastic utensils, and opened presents containing toys aplenty.

"I need a shower," you told him, an exhausted sputter leaving your lips as you threw all the crumpled napkins away. "Do you mind cleaning the rest?"

"Not at all. C'mere." Harry loosely grabbed your elbow and pulled you toward him, smacking a vanilla-flavored kiss onto your mouth. "Love you. Go relax."

You thumbed away some frosting on his chin. "Don't put her to bed without me, okay?"

He smiled softly and stole another kiss, slower this time. "I won't. We're actually planning on partying all night."

You just laughed and made your way upstairs. Harry took it upon himself to clean the kitchen until it was spotless for you. He had been genuinely trying to help more around the house since motherhood is not easy on the body and mind. Taking an extra load off your shoulders was the least he could do as part of his lifelong repayment for giving him the most extraordinary experience imaginable.

After every surface was scoured clean, he walked over to his daughter and kneeled, observing her childlike wonder as she smeared frosting on the tray of her highchair. Curious eyes distracted, he felt a crashing wave of emotion wash over him. It just didn't seem possible that an entire year had already passed by. Wasn't it just yesterday that he unbuckled her from her car seat and showed her around her forever home? Didn't her newborn fingers curl instinctively around his thumb whenever he pressed it to her palm? Hadn't she only been something he dreamed about with you? If he thought about it too much, he'd start weeping.

"Stop growing, please," Harry said while scrubbing her sticky fingers with a wet wipe. "I know you need to, but it's killing me inside."

She looked up at the sound of his voice. "Da da da da," she babbled, her fists excitedly hitting the tray and becoming dirty again.

He sighed and decided to give her a sink bath before bedtime. "Yes, I'm your dad. And you need to listen to him when he tells you to stop growing, yeah?"

"No!" Her new favorite word was spoken shamelessly, and Harry couldn't help but chuckle.

"All right, little lady. Keep breaking my heart, then."

She raised her arms. "Up."

After standing with a huff, Harry lifted her in the air and shook her body playfully until she let out an infectious burst of giggles. Tickles came next, an innocent attack on her belly as she squirmed over his shoulder. He held onto her kicking legs and stomped up the stairs dramatically, making a right turn into the master bedroom. A gentle toss on the bed had her giggling even louder.

"An entire year of loving you," he said, kissing her cheeks repeatedly. "Happy birthday, lovebug."

——

The Last Night 

There used to be a time when her legs couldn't wrap all the way around Harry's waist because they were simply too short. What were once chunky baby legs that happily kicked against his rib cage turned into toddler ones that kicked because they wanted to run free.

No more holding her sideways while she fit in the crook of his elbow like a puzzle piece of his flesh and blood. No more swaddling her tightly in a blanket after a midnight meltdown. No more tummy time, carrying her in a sling, or being there to catch her whenever she tried to walk on her own.

Her dependence was slipping away. Time was slipping away even faster.

Often, he looked back on all the moments he had taken for granted with his firstborn. Those screeching cries that wouldn't stop no matter what left him with a daylong migraine and maybe a side of tears. Those tantrums left him feeling defeated and on edge, only to end with her just wanting to be held by him. Those summer evenings on the beach, only him and her lying on a blanket and watching the sun go down while he answered all her nonsensical questions about the world around her.

Tomorrow, the date circled on the calendar's December page would allow Harry to relive those moments. However, it would be with an entirely new person he's never met. It'd be undeniably different—an accustomed bond to be formed and a shift in dynamics to adjust to. The challenge of keeping two humans safe instead of one.

Was he ready for that?

"Are you ready to be a big sister?" Harry asked the tiresome, limp child in his arms. He might as well pass off the question to someone unaware of it all.

"No."

He laughed at the confidence with which she answered. "I understand. It's a huge responsibility, but you'll be a natural. That's what your mom told me before you were born."

She nodded slowly against his shoulder, most likely oblivious to what he said. "Wanna go night-night."

"I know." The weight of his soul sank, realizing time was ticking by faster than he'd like it to. "Let me hold you for a while longer. Is that okay?" Another nod. "You can fall asleep, darling. I promise I'll carry you to bed and tuck you in."

"Where's Mama?" she asked with her sweet, soft voice.

Harry rubbed soothing circles on her back, and tears stung behind his eyes for some reason. "She needs rest just like you do," he explained vaguely, not wanting to talk about the pre-labor pain you had been so gracefully pushing through the entire day. "Grandma's taking you to the park tomorrow, so you can't be cranky."

"Okay," she mumbled, approximately thirty seconds from a dream-filled sleep.

After swiping a finger down her button nose to get her eyes to flutter shut, he pressed a kiss to her forehead and steadily hiked up the staircase toward her room. He checked on you when he passed the master bedroom, finding you hunched over the bed and swaying through a contraction. It hurt to see you in such discomfort.

Harry opened the door to his daughter's bedroom, laid her in her toddler bed, and tucked the blanket around her body like he did every night. "Sleep well, sweetheart. Don't grow up overnight."

Her eyes popped open, and she was suddenly wide awake due to not being in his arms anymore. "'I'm not tired."

"You just said you wanted to go night-night!"

"Nuh-uh!"

"Go to sleep, crazy girl," he told her, ruffling her hair. Your mom needs me right now. Can you tell your angels and fairies to make her feel better?"

She hummed an affirmation and settled down. Harry's lips twitched into a smile, and he spread his arms out in his unvoiced gesture of love. She immediately spread her arms out too.

"Love you this big," she said cutely.

"I love you even bigger," he replied, gently pinching her cheek.

Doubt, incompetence, and fear swirled in his stomach when he realized that, come tomorrow, he would no longer have his paternal attention solely focused on the little girl in front of him. His chest ached for her, knowing how hard it'd be to adjust to someone who required more nurture and care under the same roof. He'd just have to share his love, and his heart was more than capacious enough to manage that.

Before Harry turned off the lights, he confessed a secret that had only been shared between them. "You'll always be my biggest love."

——

[pr0xide]

“Boo, this guy stinks!” You all say as I drop yet another banger art piece of ocs instead of the yaoi we need. /j

Anyways made my keysona at last, he’s kinda a mix of both self-insert/sona & oc cuz I wanted to hit two birds with one stone.

Info below (prepare for a whole wall of context, you are warned)

Citrine, he/him male key, made from the citrine gemstone and has accents of blue topaz, especially for his eyes.

- narrator key (elaborated later), former ex-libris key now being used by Shiya Ang, my oc whom you’ve probably seen me post a bit of.

- significant note is that I take inspiration for his personality from the narrator of hit game Stanley Parable, except more chillax and not British. Like the game’s narrator, he originally intends for Shiya to complete the book the way it’s intended/written, but after bearing her rebellious nature and her tendency to get things done in random ways, he decided since to give up on it.

- like I said he’s two birds in one stone, in that he is a representation of myself as a key (like some of you did), and also doubling as an oc (original character), because for a while I’ve envisioned Shiya being a key holder like the main crew.

As I mentioned in a previous post, I didn’t want to reveal much of my daughter due to her personality being tied to her key- this is because I envision her as a very vocal and outgoing person. Think activists and protestors- you always see them speaking their mind to the masses- Shiya is no different. While slightly stubborn, she isn’t afraid to stand up for her beliefs or others and say what’s on her mind (making her very unfiltered, which sometimes leads to unhinged phrases). Her being a guiding voice for others is equivalent to that of a narrator’s role- they guide the reader through the book and through character’s actions, thoughts, dialogue, and feelings.

Currently, I am debating on keeping Shiya as a keyholder, mainly because I feel it is too “op” or “Mary sue” or whatever kids these days (I say this like im significantly older but I’m not) consider it. To me I feel my child is a background or side/supporting character, so I’m not quite sure on whether she’d be deserving of a key or not. Regardless of if I keep it or change it, she’s still going to be a very loud person.

Also, I guess I didn’t mention it in my previous posts, but she’s also supposed to be a librarian (this may be subject to change), either in the library of Sugar Springs for a summer job, or an on-campus job in the library of Deacon’s college (of whom she is friends with). This is a very ironic job because they legit hiring a loudmouth to run a typically quiet job.

Aside from Shiya’s connection to the key, I also wanted to discuss the mechanics (eww im using gamer terms im such a dweeb eww /j) of the narrator key, aka how he functions/how uses him (yes I am that serious of a nerd to plan all that out).

- Essentially, the idea is that when the main crew obtain Shiya & the narrator key on their side, it acts equivalent to a level-up/upgrade, in the sense that they no longer need to rely on reading or memorizing the whole book *cough Deacon cough* to get through the story. At any given point, if the cast is stuck and unable to determine what to do next, they can ask Shiya to use her narrator role to forsee the next event. Shiya is able to do this by being equipped with a literal miniature pocket book (similar to that of her key’s pocket watch; the book only appears within the story realms) that can shift its interior into the plot of whichever story they work within. There is a downside however— they can rely on this power only three times within each story, and sometimes using it drains narratonin. It will drain a lot more narratonin in more complex books or longer novels. Once used three times within a story, the book immediately disintegrates from her hand.

- Another feature is that she is able to narrate the story both aloud and in the minds’ of other keyholders, so long as they’re in proximity of each other, otherwise rendering this skill useless. She has to be careful when doing this however, because there is a risk of using one of three chances when someone may actually know how to progress the story— it’s up to Shiya’s own judgement to determine whether she thinks they are progressing or not.

Aside from all that Shiya mainly likes to chill and roll with the story, acting as the other background characters do and moving from event to event. Since Shiya cannot dye her hair in real life due to hair sensitivity, she often likes to have Citrine dye her hair for her in stories— her hair often being the only major change to her appearance throughout each book. Her relationship with her key is fairly positive, as she helps him ease his mind every day since his release from key form.

Anyways, that’s all the text you’re getting from me. I have a lot of more information about my ocs posted within the (unofficial yet only other server) non-patreon discord server for Cinderella Boy. Thank you if you reached the end. ❤️

[forever-fixating]

RWRB Appreciation Month Bingo: Side Character

For @rwrbsource and @rwrbmovie's RWRB Appreciation Month Bingo: Side Character

Side Character: Shaan

Author's Note: I really love Shaan as a character because you can tell he doesn't adhere strictly to royal protocol and does what he can to support Henry. This ficlet delves into one possible reason why.

"What's on the agenda today, Shaan?"

The equerry humored his charge and pulled up the schedule on his iPad. Ever since the Duke was diagnosed with stage four pancreatic cancer, his schedule, usually packed with charity appearances or state functions, had been whittled down to chemotherapy treatments and time with his youngest son, Henry. His heart ached for the young royal. Shaan took up the position of the Duke's equerry after his predecessor died unexpectedly six years ago. Of his three children, he noticed that Arthur doted on his youngest the most. Phillip and Bea seemed more independent and extroverted, but Shaan observed how Henry struggled with royal expectations as he got older. As a result, the Duke took special care to encourage the young man's interests.

"Your regular nurse should be in soon for your treatment," Shaan read. "Your attorney will be at two o'clock to finalize your will, and Prince Henry said he would be here no later than five."

"I actually wanted to talk to you about Henry." Arthur gestured to the chair next to his bed. "Please have a seat."

Shaan took the offered seat, curious about where this conversation would take them. Arthur wasn't the typical royal. Perhaps that was because of his working-class background. As a fellow Welshman, he remembered feeling an odd sort of pride watching the former Bond actor marry the princess with his family back in the 80s. Their love story was a fairytale come to life. It was tragic to know that it would be cut short.

Once Shaan settled, Arthur gave him a brittle smile and said, "As my life comes rapidly to a close, I worry about my family, especially my youngest."

Shaan didn't rush to correct the man, which he knew was appreciated. The Duchess was still in deep denial. She spoke often with the nurses who came to administer treatments about his progress, her tone desperate for hope. While each of the children put on brave faces, Shaan could tell they saw the truth of the situation.

"What can I do?" Shaan asked. Shaan would do all he could if he could provide even a modicum of peace to this man.

Arthur shifted against the mass of pillows behind him. "I know that there are certain protocols when it comes to appointments. That being said, I am going to do my goddamned best to ensure you're Henry's equerry when it comes time for him to require one."

Shaan was stunned. It was overwhelming that Arthur valued him enough to entrust the care of his son to him. Setting his iPad aside, he stammered, "Sir, I...I don't know what to say."

"You don't have to say anything," Arthur replied. "I've enjoyed working with you. You don't follow blindly; you have found ways to question tradition and protocol. My Henry will need someone like that in his corner."

Shaan looked down at his hands. Not for the first time, he thought how unfair it was that such a genuinely good man was about to be separated from his family. Collecting himself, he looked at the dying man and said, "I will do what I can on my end as well, sir. Your son will be in good hands."

Later that afternoon, the prince arrived with an armful of books and Arthur's favorite snacks. The Duke had little appetite most days but was more willing to eat when it wasn't a bland protein smoothie. The Prince gave Shaan a small smile and said, "Hello, Shaan. How is he today?"

"As good as can be expected, sir," Shaan replied. "How are you?"

Henry shrugged and looked down at the box of Jaffa Cakes in his arms. "Taking it day by day, I suppose."

Recalling Arthur's words, Shaan said, "Should you need anything, don't hesitate to ask me for help, sir. I...I know the pain you're about to endure."

Henry's eyes shot up. It was the closest they had come to acknowledging how dire Arthur's condition was. He licked his dry lips and asked, his voice so very timid, "Who did you...?"

"My mother," Shaan replied softly, "when I was twenty-five."

Henry nodded and looked away. After a moment, he thanked Shaan and headed to his father's room.

A/N- Me coming in hot with the angst again. My muse loved the idea of Shaan working with Arthur before, and that was why he and Henry were so in sync. And before I forget, Happy RWRB Premiere Day! I cannot believe it has been a year since this movie came out!

Check out this post and join the fun in celebrating the one-year anniversary of our little romcom that could being released!

[yet-another-deanw-girl]

Chapter 1: The girl and the werewolves

||The Prophecy Series||

She knew for 15 years that this day would come. She knew her destiny had already been written. That her death had been foretold.

She knew she would have to stop him. She knew she would have to kill him. And she thought she was prepared for all of it. But the day she met him she realized how wrong she was…

Set in Season 10 Pairing: MoC!Dean x Female!OC

Warnings: the usual SPN, language, violence, blood, injuries

Episode mapping: The end of episode 4 of season 10 "Paper Moon"

Note: The events of this story are following season 10 of Supernatural and are taking place between October 2014 and July 2015. I tried to make sure that all the references to weapons, tech, etc. are accurate with the time period.

AN: This is my first time writing a fanfic but the story has been in my head for too long and it just needed to get out. I hope you like it.

AN: English is not my first language, I apologize for any mistakes.

It's official… I hate the States.  I have been driving for over half an hour and there is nothing around.  NOTHING!  Here you can just disappear and no one will ever know. Long distances, distant people, crappy coffee…  I really miss the coffee…  Well, at least, the food was decent most of the time… I'm impatient to go back home, so I'm overdramatic. Moreover, I haven't really spoken to anyone for more than two weeks… that alone drove me crazy and irritated. Thank God this mission is over now! Take a deep breath and make a plan. That always calms my nerves. First, I have about three or four more hours of driving until I get to the private airstrip where the plane is waiting for me… that's insane… how is everything so far apart here… Deep breaths… Then, about a ten hour flight to Prague.  I'll probably sleep the entire time…  Or I can write my report…  First I’ll write my report, then I’ll sleep. After landing, I'll have my debriefing… and real coffee. Then… go to my apartment… pack a bag… and go to the airport… I have been waiting for this vacation for so long. To see my family…

I'm entering a small town and I see the local diner on my side of the road. Going through my plan in my head has improved my mood significantly. I always function better when I have a detailed plan. But I still need coffee. So with a dream of a latte or cappuccino in my mind, I park the Jeep and walk into the diner to get whatever excuse of a coffee they have. Five minutes later, with a to-go cup in my hand, I'm climbing back in the monstrous car. I really love this car. It's always funny to see the looks I'm receiving. I'm not the shortest woman in the world, but I'm no more than 1.70m (it's about 5 '7) and this Jeep is enormous. But I like driving it. And, I like all the modifications I've done on it over the years. While driving out of the town and the buildings are more and more apart from each other, a cabin catches my attention. Well, not the cabin itself, but the two figures going inside. Just before they went inside, their faces shifted. What day is it? It's not a full moon, right? I count the days in my head. It is a full moon. Great! Werewolves. I hesitate only for a second, before I stop my car down the road so they will not see me coming. Driving a car like this has some disadvantages after all. I push several buttons on the car's dashboard screen, to check my armory and a weapon is produced for me to use. When the central console on my right opens, I reach out to take the gun. I scowl at the Beretta 92 that is inside.

Created with Microsoft Designer

"Of course!" I mutter under my breath. "I can't even use my own guns here!" I remind myself that I'm not supposed to raise any suspicions or to give any clues about who I am and who I'm working for. It's hard when you are a person of details and when you like things in a certain way. Unfortunately, my custom guns are locked in the car safe, until I'm boarding the plane to Europe. I take the standard US law enforcement gun and two spare magazines with silver bullets and I'm on my way to the cabin. "Fuck… I haven't even finished that coffee!" Engaging in those kinds of situations is not really in the scope of my operation here. Actually, it is way out of it. But I can't just walk away, keep driving and pretend I haven't seen anything. Not when there are innocent people in danger here… probably… 'Probably' is the key word… So I decide, I'll just look at what is going on in there and if, indeed, there are lives being threatened, only then I'll get involved.

Of course there are lives in stake. When I look inside the dimly lit building, I see the silhouettes of two men being tied to the pillars. Three werewolves are inside with them, the two men I saw earlier, and a younger blond woman… girl actually... It looks like she is in charge or has some authority over the others. I take in the layout of the place and make a map in my mind, all the people, the exits, the pillars, the piles of junk, the old furniture... Every little crack, every window and every beam…  And I make a plan…  And a backup plan…  And a backup plan.  I have it all laid out in my head, a perfect tactical assault mission.  In reality, this takes only a couple of seconds. My mind works in a strange way, but that's one of the things that makes me good at my job and has helped me climb the ranks quickly. I go in from the back door and immediately shoot down the two men. The girl with the long blond hair is standing in front of one of the hostages tied to the columns and puts her claws to his chest when she sees me.

Created with Microsoft Designer

"Put down the gun, or I will gut him!" - she says to me. Another blond girl barges in and stops abruptly when she realizes the situation. "Tash, what are you doing?" she exclaims, looking at the girl threatening one of the victims. "Kate! Come here and help me!" - the girl says. Now, when I have a better look at her she looks really young, maybe just finished high school. I take advantage of everyone being distracted, and shoot. The girl hits the ground. I turn around, aiming my weapon at the second girl. "No, no, no!" - the two men yell in unison. I lower my gun and the girl runs to the body of her dead sister. At least they look like sisters.

I holster my gun and take the knife from my boot turning around to cut off the ropes of the two men. No, no, no, no…  I definitely fucked up…  What the hell…  I NEVER fuck up!  I was not supposed to make any contact with them. I was here to observe and report. Fuck, fuck, fuck… Shit! Ok… I'll just cut them down and then I'm on my way to the airstrip. I start cutting the rope tying up Dean's hands above his head. I have to stand on my tiptoes and I barely can reach the rope. "Hey, shortstack, do you need a stepping stool or something?" Sam teases and I snort at his comment. "Short or not, I'm not the one tied up by a highschool girl…" Fuck! Those boys are really tall up close!

I'm almost done when Sam yells "Watch out!!!" I press the knife into Dean's hand, so he can finish cutting the rope himself and pull out my gun while turning around.  Sharp pain stings my abdomen before I'm able to pull the trigger.  The gunshot rings in the air of the cabin followed by a heavy thump. I clench my stomach. That's bad.  That's really, really bad.  How did this all happen?  Where did he come from?  How did I miss him?  Maybe he came after the second woman… girl… My mind is racing, trying to analyze every little detail and every possibility. But it doesn't matter right now.  This must be the unluckiest day of my life! First, I stumbled on my targets, and now this!  I know this will not kill me.  This is not the way I'm supposed to go and now is definitely not the time. But it hurts like hell, nonetheless and for a moment, panic sneaks in my mind.  I haven't been in such deep shit in a long long time. I have been in far more dangerous situations, but I hadn't screwed up like this in years. Deep breaths… make a plan… "Hey! Are you ok?" Dean asks me when he is done untying his brother. "Yeah!" I say through my clenched teeth and without even turning to them I start walking to the front door. I'll just have to go to my car, stitch this up, and then…  My head starts spinning.  Shit, I'm losing too much blood. I'm not going to make it to the car…

The woman had barged in, shot all of the rogue werewolves in a matter of seconds and without saying a word was now walking to the front door. "Wait a minute! Where do you think you're going?"  I yell and run after her.  Just when I'm reaching to grab her arm to stop her, she collapses and I manage to catch her at the last moment. "What the hell!"  I mumble but then I see the gash in her stomach. It's deep and she is losing blood too fast. "Sam! Find the first aid kit and get the car! NOW!"

Chapter 2: Protocol EG-64 initiated >>

||The Prophecy Series||

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for calling out my coworker?

This has been going on for a few weeks now, and while I don't think I'm the AH, I have been told that I am. A damning start, I am well aware.

My coworker (~35F) Janet and I (33F) don't work on the same location, but we work for the same clinic. She holds the exact same position I do. All locations are treated as the same clinic rather than separate and individually functioning locations, so we frequently have to be in contact and work together with people hundreds of miles away. This usually works well, unless people disagree, as we can't just walk up to each other to ask for clarification when it's needed.

About 4-5 weeks ago, my car gave out in the morning on my way to work. I had to get towed off of the freeway, and I notified my boss and coworkers accordingly and through the appropriate channels (a direct phone call to my boss and a notification in our work group chat explaining the situation and that I would be later, but didn't know how late). Being stranded on the freeway is terrifying, so I was off to an emotional start of my day. An hour or two later, I was rounding everything off and was getting into a different, borrowed car. At that point, Janet told (not asked) me, in the group chat, to start doing my shift. I was scheduled for a day on the phone, and she could see I wasn't answering calls. I replied that I already told everyone that I was going to be in late because of my car trouble and that I was headed over now, and should be there in about 30 minutes. I got no response.

Exactly one week later, Janet and I were scheduled together to answer the phone again. Towards the end of the day, I was called in by my manager to go through the details of an upcoming safety drill at our location, which I'm overseeing. This was unexpected, but it wasn't that busy, so I told my coworkers (Janet and one other) about it, and said I would probably be in that meeting for the rest of the day. Immediately, Janet replied that she wouldn't be able to stay on the phone either, since she was the last one left in her building and had to man the front desk. Our third coworker's shift would end in 10 minutes or so, so with me gone too, there would have been no one left to pick up the phone. She hadn't informed anyone of that before that moment. If she had, I would have told my manager we'd have to pick a different time. Now we had to cut the meeting very short. I told her so, and an argument ensued in the group chat. She was of the opinion that I should have deduced that she would be on her own, through our roster, the doctor's agenda, and general knowledge of her location. I was of the opinion that our roster said she was scheduled to pick up the phone until closing, and that if she knew she wasn't going to be able to do that, she should have informed the people who were supposed to pick up her slack. I didn't say this in the group chat, but I'm not a damn detective, out every day to make sure people are scheduled correctly.

She's been poking and prodding ever since, picking any excuse to call out perceived errors in my work ethic. The thing is, she's never right, but because she always put it in the group chat, I could never really explain the why of it to her. I'm 95% certain that she was well aware of this, and that's why she kept doing it.

I tried calling her to talk it out, but when she saw it was me, she didn't answer. I tried chatting directly rather than in the group chat, calling her location, calling her personal phone - in any way possible I've tried to get in contact with her personally, but she was just not responding.

Eventually, I typed out an email to her in my lunch break, addressing some of the times she tried to publicly shame me. Times she said I wasn't picking up enough phone calls, even though I was doing thrice the amount of phone calls she was. Times she said I wasn't working at all, when I was stuck in a phone conversation with another hospital, that lasted 40 minutes. I attached evidence to make my point (we have call logs), and ended by asking her to please just assume that we were all working our hardest, and no one's actively not working or trying to make work harder for others. I put my boss in cc (not bcc), because she had asked about our interactions a couple of times by then, and even notified my coworker of that in the email itself, because I didn't want to blindside her. It turned into a long email. The response I got was "I don't have time to read entire pages, I'm working". My boss saw. I don't know what came of that, or if anything even happened at all.

Janet has since blocked me on every medium, which means I can't reach her anymore, including for work related things.

Yesterday, my boss called me in again to ask how it's been resolved, and I told her honestly that it hadn't, and that I was pretty sad about it tbh. I try to do my best, and it felt like I didn't get the same in return. Besides, I'd like to have a good working relationship with my immediate coworkers, and it leaves a bad taste in my mouth to leave it unresolved like this. Instead of understanding that, I got a lecture (a friendly one, my boss is still cool) about how I bulldozed her over with my email, that I wasn't compassionate enough, that I should have tried to reach out with empathy. Honestly, I'm furious about this. All the shit that I've been enduring from her, and I get reprimanded? Any attempt I made to reach out to her was actively blocked or ignored, and now I'm getting shit for attempting to talk it out in the only way that worked. It all feels very unfair to me.

I want to know if my boss is right, or has a certain point. I never want to be perceived as TA in any situation, so I'd like to see whether I should adjust my conflict management skills accordingly, or if I can metaphorically roll my eyes and shrug it off.

So, Tumblr, AITA for calling out my coworker via email?

What are these acronyms?

[the-last-patch]

- H-hello again, Opossum! Tis once more thine friend of House Hurst. I um. Would like to apologize for mine lack of contact. Things hath been... t-tense here...

- In any case, I have r-read some of thine recent posts! The planet thou art on sounds beautiful! But cold, as well... I am used to warmer climes, I know not that I would last long there...

- O-oh right! Mine reason for addressing thee! In mine off time I have been doing restoration work upon the cassette tape! :D

- The thing has dirt and sand encrusted upon it like thou wouldst not believe, but I do belive with more time I should see it function once more! I am so very excited for you to see it!

- G-good tidings out there!

[Tuning In]

[Flipping to A-Side]

[Success]

[Now Playing - “Opossum”]

Ah hello there! Long time no see, well, hear I suppose! Just so you know, there’s no reason for you to apologize buddy! If anything it’s my fault for not reaching out again since last time. I noticed that your sister regained her access to the account and was planning a little bit of a rebellion over in the baronies, commendable work honestly! I can only imagine how stressful that must be on you though, make sure to take care of yourself in the meantime. I mean that. It’s times like these that you really need to take a moment and spend it with those you love. You might not get the chance to later, although I sure hope that’s not the case!

<Theres a brief pause, it seems “Opossum” pondered something for a moment before continuing.>

U-XVII really is quite a cold place, just yesterday it was about -57 degrees! Although it can be dangerous on the surface because of that bitter cold, the wind will make it much much worse. Most of the time we camp out in natural caves or build igloos with our mechs to help block it. The real secret to surviving out here though is heated gear. Just about every inch of my hardsuit is fitted with a heater, without it I would surely lose a finger or two to frostbite! Honestly though, you do get used to living out in these conditions, and it’s well worth the struggle to see the planet’s true beauty! Enough rambling though, now let’s get to the fun stuff.

<The sound of shifting can be heard, as if someone just leaned forward in a seat or something similar>

So, before we talk anything about the current condition of the tape I want to confirm that you did in fact do your research before beginning restoration work. I trust you did, after all you seem rather well informed, and understand you are a historian of sorts, so the importance of this object isn’t lost on you. One thing I will recommend is that you make sure to keep it away from anything magnetic, or really electronics in general. Without proper protection from those devices it could threaten erasing the data on it. That being said, I am so absolutely jealous that I can’t be there to help restore it! I can just imagine how exciting it will be to listen to the first time! I wonder what songs are on it? Did it have a label? Oooh actually I’m not sure I want to know, it’ll be such a fun surprise! I’m just dying of anticipation out here! I promise that the first thing I’m doing after I get off this planet, will be hitching a ride through the nearest blink gate straight to…Crossland wasn’t it? Anyways, I don’t make promises lightly, and sure as hell don’t break them. I will come to claim that cassette one day, no matter what happens.

P.XV “Opossum”, talk again soon?

[End Track]

[Next Up - “Raymond..?”]

[peterrsthomas]

Book Review: Tress of the Emerald Sea 

Tress of the Emerald Sea is a wonderful, layered adventure that evolves as the priorities of Tress, our main character, ebb and shift. Tress is a young girl from a barely habitable rock, surrounded by a sea of spores that turn into vines when they touch water. Her friend and love interest, Charlie, the son of the island’s Duke, is sent to the island of the King to be married. When he makes himself completely undesirable, the King sends him to the Midnight Sea (another of several spore seas, each with their own distinct properties) where he is captured by the fearsome Sorceress. 

Tress, when she finds out, sets off on a grand adventure to save him. On the way, she becomes part of a pirate crew, driven by the fearsome Captain Crow, and meets Fort, Ann, and Salay, as well as Hoid, a world-hopping character of the wider Cosmere who is cursed by the Sorceress. As Tress seeks Charlie, she becomes embroiled in a conflict between the crew and their captain. This multi-tiered adventure keeps the story fresh and engaging. Of the people Tress meets, Ulaam in particular stands out as a delightful character whose presence brings fun and unpredictability to his scenes. An ear on your arm, anyone?

One of the key strengths of the novel is how its conflicts are solved through different means. Some through combat, sure, but also through wit and quick-thinking. These keep the tension high in the right places, and show Sanderson’s skill in crafting a variety of situations and solutions for his characters. I am a massive fan of different ways of solving problems beyond force—the scene with Xixis the dragon was my favourite—so this scratched a real itch for me.

The world building, as one would expect of Sanderson, is top-tier. The spores and how they function are cool and varied, and the way they are built into the story is very satisfying. Likewise, the narrative voice, provided by the cursed Hoid (who is rendered to something of a ‘village idiot’ with no fashion sense), connects the novel to the broader Cosmere. Hoid is witty and fun, and this keeps the narrative light. It is also refreshing to have the story told by a third party who is able to comment personally on what is happening without being the centre of the story. I did find some of Hoid’s observations to disrupt the immersion in places—e.g., the reference to ‘laptops’ being a key one. I get that this is supposed to broaden out the links to the world beyond, but, as someone unfamiliar with the rest of the universe, I found it a little jarring.

Also, Tress’s character development, while clearly central to the story, does sometimes suffer from exposition that I found a little heavy-handed. There are moments when the narrative explicitly states that Tress is changing or growing, even when I think readers can see these changes organically. It’s a little unnecessary and on-the-nose. And, lastly—SPOILERS—certain plot elements create minor inconsistencies that detract from the otherwise cohesive world. For example, the Sorceress has inhabited the planet for years and possesses advanced knowledge of technology that Tress is only beginning to develop. When Tress offers to trade this technology, the Sorceress dismisses it—yet later, her guards are defeated by this very same technology. This inconsistency feels like an oversight that somewhat weakens the internal logic of the story.

Regardless of some minor flaws, Tress of the Emerald Sea is an easygoing, refreshing sci-fi/fantasy adventure with a cast of loveable characters. The story is accessible and easy to follow, is told with humour, and sits against a well-fleshed-out and intriguing world. It gets a big ‘recommend’ from me!

[hello-there-its-me]

I can’t breathe. I’m sitting in the warehouse that doubles as our break room, five minutes overdue for my shift, after throwing up in a bathroom stall. An hour ago you trapped me in your bedroom, pressed against the window, the body I used to adore blocking my escape. Fifty minutes ago I got in my car, decided everything was fine, and drove to work with a brown sugar coffee and Taylor Swift. Ten minutes ago my coworker said hey, how are you? and I broke.

Panic attack, the small, logical part of my brain still functioning says. I can’t breathe, the much larger, intrinsic part says. I think I’m crying, but I’m so numb I can’t tell.

She presses something to my lips, tells me to breathe, and watermelon flavored smoke fills my mouth. It’s sweet, disgusting, and five seconds later the blood rushes to my head. I’m immediately nauseous, dizzy, so lightheaded I think I may pass out. I can’t breathe, but for an entirely different reason, and it feels good.

I can’t blame her. I could have gone home, maybe called my mom, called a therapist, my best friend, anyone. Instead I find myself at 9 PM on a Tuesday standing in an alien shop hesitantly asking for more.

The girl behind the counter seems to think I’m insane. And maybe I am, a 27-year-old woman trying vapes, of all things, for the first time. That’s supposed to be something in sitcoms five years ago, teenagers and peer pressure and poor decision making skills. But I just want to feel something other than panic and fear, and if it tastes like fruit punch and mango, all the better. I ignore all the warning signs and labels because I’m not sure I really want to be alive, anyway, and if this kills me, can they really call it suicide?

A month later I’m 2,000 miles back home, in Missouri, in misery, my tiny car packed with boxes, sleeping on my parent’s couch because if I had to stay in the same city, the same state as you another moment, I might have imploded.

I have coffee with my best friend and she sneers, disgusted, at a man vaping outside. I agree, sour cherry on my breath. I’m so tired.

[eriexplosion]

Since I'm rapidly running out of time to catch up we're doing EVEN MORE TBB TODAY, so off to The Clone Conspiracy

GOD CORUSCANT LOOKS. AMAZING ACTUALLY. SEEING 79S AGAIN ALL GLOSSED UP, GODDAMN. Love when the future is Neon.

Slip and Cade ;A; I'm already preemptively sad knowing what's going to happen to them. Cade talking about destroying Kamino, their home... I'm of course thinking back to the trooper that reported that Kamino had fallen to Rampart, voice hesitant as he reports the destruction of his own birth place. Slip says later he was on board when it happened. I wonder if that was him.

God though, sending a message to Rampart to give him "the chance to tell the Senate the truth before I did it myself." Cade, Cade, Cade, that is an insanely stupid move WHY did you do that and not just tell the senate directly? I know it's the urge to follow orders and chain of command but oh god of course Rampart has him killed.

Listen the first time I watched this I was SO scared for a hot second that it was Crosshair taking those shots, the last time we saw him he had killed Tawni Ames and the rapid shooting Cade and then shooting the blaster out of Slip's hand got me CONCERNED. Only when he started missing constantly did I go 'okay yeah this can't be him'

Still they really do let you think that, with how little we see Crosshair this season, it wasn't out of line to think he was there with new armor.

Can't believe "Cataclysmic Storm" is what they went with. Yeah it was such a big storm on the planet known for storms that it destroyed every single city on the planet simultaneously, very tragic.

"Shifting to a military of citizens swearing loyalty fundamentally goes against the principles of this body." I'm sorry I can't get over the fact that like, I get why the troopers don't want to retire (this is all they've ever known, they don't know how else to function, they have no other support) and the bill is objectively meant to push them out of service to essentially be abandoned but this is still an insane argument. We can't shift away from our slave army to a military of volunteers it goes against the Principles of This Body. WHAT ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT?

Riyo coming in with the actual 'hey what if we take the secret third option of treating them like people?'

I hate Rampart being so blandly pleasant, playing like he's soooo reasonable and understanding when we know he doesn't give a SHIT about the clones.

"If anyone were to dig further into what truly happened to Kamino" which I am happily discussing in a public hallway.

The scene in the bar HURTS because like, Riyo is trying but she's still locked into not treating the clones like people who should have options. She's trying to soften the being forced out plan, but they're still being forced out and thrown into a situation they were never trained for (because they were never supposed to be people) and they're pushing back against it because it takes away their choices in their own futures. There's just no option on the table that lets clones make their own individual choice whether to stay in the military or retire, and they always expected to be dead before they were too old to fight.

I want every clone to be given all the love and support in the world, all of them no exceptions.

Still the little nod at the end when they agree to work with her, my heart <3 Riyo really is trying her best she's just limited by both the Empire and the plot restrictions of how much they're allowed to criticize the Republics use of the clones in the first place and not just the Imperial treatment of them.

Riyo has been given the worlds worst and most alarming info dump and everything is happening at once, congrats your assassination risk just went up like 500%

God Slip calling Rex to try and get him out ;_; god this poor boy

Oh no not full pensions for millions of clones, god forbid we take care of the millions of clones that we literally purchased as cannon fodder.

"If I had been present, maybe more could have been saved" yeah bro your presence totally would have stopped the storm in this story you're building that makes total sense.

Bail pointing out the blatant insanity of blaming it on, of all things, a STORM.

I'm sorry I get stuck on that how was that the lie they went with how is Rampart SO stupid?

Godddd the tension of this scene with Riyo and Slip is so good, the building musical tension, the way it peaks a few times and nothing happens to keep you extremely on your toes and then Slip gets taken out just. DAMN they're good at this.

The way Riyo's guard gets shot and he KEEPS GOING.

I just realized that last time we saw Rex he disappeared into the fog, and when he comes back in he appears out of the fog. Turns out that whole time he was just in the fog.

HATE THE SCENE WITH THE BELIEVER CLONE. EVERY PART OF IT IS CONCERNING AS HELL. Including the part where he electrocutes himself to death and we get to see flashes of his fucking SKULL.

[deusvervemakesgames]

Project RBH Devlog 0012

Hm. Turns out that temporary stat changes are slightly more complicated than I thought they would be I’m sure I’ll figure it out—it’s probably as easy as having a constant I can reference and then using a variable to adjust it from within the status effect—but it’s not there yet. Since the code for the status effects runs every frame, if I get the formulas wrong I’ll absolutely nuke the target’s stats into the dirt, which isn’t ideal.

After last week’s success with the Burn status I quickly threw together the Bleed status effect, a stronger version of Burn. This status is special in that it’s exclusive to Critical Hits, providing more payoffs to that playstyle.

Speaking of the Critical Hit system, I adjusted that code to make it a bit more robust, and to allow it to interact with the rest of the damage code, allowing me to create other payoffs that trigger when you land a critical hit, for example, the bleed status, or healing the player.

Around this time I encountered a bizarre glitch that crashed the game if I shot a destructible crate, something that isn’t currently in any builds but that I implemented ages ago. At the time I couldn’t figure out what was causing it, but I ended up fixing it later incidentally while fixing another game crashing problem.

With no idea what’s causing the crate problem I continued working on the upgrades that I’d been working on already, the ones I mentioned a moment ago: healing on Crits and inflicting Bleed on Crits. I also added the upgrades that allow you to actually inflict Burn status, as well as an upgrade that increases your chances of inflicting a Status Effect.

Around this point I remembered/discovered that due to the fact that my bullets and explosions share a damage code, explosions now crash the game because they lack about 90% of the functionality that bullets have now. Fixing this was simple but took me a bit longer than I’d like. All I did was add a few conditional statements that made sure the relevant variables existed before trying to call them. For some reason this also fixed the crate problem.

I am now, however, faced with a problem. Certain upgrades are only meant to be acquired once, such as the added Burn status. You can’t add that twice. I thought I already had a way around this, but I don’t actually think it will work the way I want it to. The way that I shuffle the upgrades is by storing them all inside of an array which I can then randomize into a temporary copy of the array, allowing me to use a reference to the original array, ensuring they do the thing they’re supposed to do. I think that the solution I was already planning on using will still work, but in a slightly more roundabout way.

Much like how I store the name, description, and effect of each upgrade as a variable so I can reference them later when the player gets them, I intend on having a variable that checks how many times the player can get any one upgrade, and then go through the array and remove any that can no longer be chosen. If I remove them from the main array, their positions will shift and the variable references won’t work, but I should be able to remove them from the temporary array that shuffles them all.

We’re almost at the end of June now; this is the last DevLog before July, which means sometime this week I’ll have the next build posted and the next What We Can Learn article.

No rest for the wicked.

Until next Devlog!

-DeusVerve

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