#at least you'd never be cold? er

[ruiniel]

Thank you for the tag, @batsyforyou !

Tag game says: "You have to marry the last fictional character in your camera roll: how screwed are you?"

Would never work out *sigh of relief*

[shotmrmiller]

living in some dingy apartment building because it is all you can afford on your income unless you want to eat danimals yogurt and saltine crackers for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. the stern landlady lives on the first floor, and some neighbors blast music on weekday nights (even if they didn't, the walls are paper-thin. you know more about the cambrian period than you'd like to, thanks to room 105) but it's a modest roof over your head and while the darkened grout lines in the bathroom are permanent, at least there's hot water.

until there isn't. and the landlady has mysteriously gone on vacation for the next two months.

what used to be a cathartic cleansing has now become your torment. every other day is hair wash day which means you're bent over the cold, porcelain edge of your tub, back screaming in protest and pain shooting up your bruised knees even though you've sacrificed one of your very nice pillows to avoid exactly that.

and showering is torture. the icy cold water feels like a thousand tiny claws scraping over your tender scalp, sinking into your trembling shoulders. you don't wait for your body to acclimate, just hastily scrub yourself as clean as you can and hop out, your chattering teeth and shaky breaths echoing through the tiny bathroom.

it's like this for a week and a half, a whole 10 days of suffering with showers so cold it feels like shards of ice biting into your goosepimpled skin when it stops. warmth bleeds into the stream of frostbitten water. finally, it soothes instead of stings. your coiled, tense muscles gradually slacken with relief, with unadulterated bliss. steam rises, the tips of your fingers and toes tingle as if thawing. gratitude wells in the corner of your eyes.

if you had any money you could afford to give, you would to your savior, but every dollar you own is earmarked for the bare essentials. so, with your thick, warm bathrobe cinched around your waist, you pen down a little heartfelt note to stick to the bulletin board downstairs before heading out for work.

thank you, whoever you are, for fixing the boiler. i could kiss you <3

when morning comes, you use one of the dull, golden tacks that previously held a lost pet flyer (sorry, bilbo the hamster, but it's been a year) and pin your note up.

only to come home and find it gone, a torn corner all that remains. maybe it's karma for your callousness towards someone's pet. (justice for bilbo.) you shrug it off, giddily skipping up the steps to wash off the day's stress with hot water.

but before you even hang your keys on the wall, there's a pounding on your door, hard enough to rattle it in its frame. and the masked man you see through the peephole isn't familiar. against your better judgment, you clear your throat before cracking open the door. "yes?"

the piece of paper he's holding in his dinner plate-sized hands seems incredibly small— and it's your note.

"i fixed the water." oh. "'m 'ere for wha' 'm owed." owed?

"i'm not— um. the kiss. it's just a figure of speech." the thick muscle of his bicep coils as he crosses his arms over his barrel chest. he's a very large man, as broad as your door.

if you slammed it closed on him, he'd probably leave it hanging by its hinges. that's not worth a measly kiss.

"okay. but on the cheek since i never specified where so it's dealer's choice."

he huffs out an amused breath but complies, hooking his thumb under the edge to pull up his balaclava just enough to expose his stubbled cheek. he's got a couple of scars; thin, slightly raised. run along the sharp edge of his jaw and disappear beneath the fabric.

he leans close, enough to hear his steady, slow exhales. he smells of dirt. salt. something smoky, tangy-- like on new years, minutes after the clock strikes 12.

your hands cradle his face as you rise to your tippy-toes, wetting your lips and crane your neck-- but he snaps his head to the side,

and takes the kiss he was owed.

(he takes a screwdriver to the ac unit next. wire cutters to the fuse box. nails to your tires. anything that'll inevitably lead you back to him. you tried paying him with dinner but the only thing he was interested in eating was your cunt.)

[lxvvie]

[If you've not played or finished the DLC yet, read at your own discretion!]

Being in a relationship with Messmer the Impaler consists of:

The initial beginnings of your relationship are a... blur. At least they were for Messmer. He's yet to understand how this happened to him but happened it did. Whether it's a trick of the light or his mother's intrusion, he's not sure but he'll entertain his mongrel intruder for the time being.

He does remember your attempts to engage him in simple talk, however. They were humorous, admittedly. You'd talk and talk and he'd simply stare at you.

Realizing that for all of Messmer's cold brilliance, your getting close to him makes you privy to just how self-loathing he truly is. If you thought Morgott was bad, Messmer may arguably have him beaten. All things considered, you can't blame him.

Messmer being hot and cold when it comes to physical affection, even though he stubbornly refuses to admit he's touch-starved. It's equal parts self-loathing (again) and his serpent... er, companion. His serpent companion who's quite curious of you. His serpent companion whose snoot you've taken to booping seeing as it stays in your personal space. You've... done this to Messmer, too, with varying results.

To piggyback off of this, Messmer is a walking, talking furnace. Good for when there's a nip in the air.

Finding his voice to be so sonorous you could listen to him speak all day if you could. Messer fails to understand this. In fact, he just thinks his voice is just like any other.

Asking him about his upbringing and Messmer remaining tight-lipped about it. He might occasionally give you something, but that's about it. However, he's more interested in your life and how you became Tarnished and managed to make your way down here and gain his affection.

For all his disdain for his mother, there is an interest in knowing the current affairs of the Lands Between that Messmer has kept under wraps. Until you, that is. It's adorable whenever he gets curious and asks you to tell him about it. If things were different and he wasn't cursed, he could... he really could have... Mother...

His interest really piques when you tell him about Jarburg, though.

Surprise kisses. Because not? If they don't do anything else, they hilariously and adorably throw Messmer off and he'll get flustered. He'll never not be thrown off by your affection and he likes it more than he cares to admit.

[sourpatchys]

•Pretty Boy•

You weren't sure when and you weren't sure how— but you were definitely falling for the blue eyed archer.

You'd been with the group since the beginning, doing your best to survive with them, but completely unsure on how to interact with them.

Even before, you weren't much of a people person, always enjoying your alone time just a little too much.

But somehow, you're alone time wasn't so lonely anymore— and you couldn't say you minded.

You started taking watch with Daryl as a way to get away from the chaos in the prison. One person was better than several— that's what you told yourself.

But now— looking over and seeing his unkept hair flutter just a bit in the wind— you weren't so sure.

It was cold, the hot Georgia heat plummeted at night, the humidity storing itself away for a few hours, waiting for its chance to strike once more.

He was wearing a god awful poncho, and you'd told him as such when you'd sat down together an hour prior.

"I'm not lookin' to win a fashion show anytime soon."

You couldn't even argue. But the absurdity of it all did make you laugh just a little.

The silence you had between you was comfortable, no one was talking because neither of you needed too— completely content.

It was somewhat of a routine at this point.

You'd crack a joke about what he was wearing, maybe about how long his hair was getting, (it was curling out by his ears making him look like a fox) or he'd do the same to you— and then you'd just sit, and watch.

Sometimes you'd fall asleep, the cool air and the breeze reminding you of your old box fan that never had a days rest.

When that happened you somehow always woke up back in your cell.

You never brought it up, Daryl didn't seem to want to talk about it, and you didn't want your curiosity to stop it from happening.

It was like a fun little adventure, a piece of the old world you got to keep with you. Why would you ever want it to stop?

A particularly cold gust of wind blew into you, and while it wasn't as harsh as the cold from last winter, it still made you shiver.

"Cold?"

You almost didn't hear him, his voice was so soft.

"Yeah, I guess I should've brought my own ugly poncho."

He scoffed at you, a faint line of a smile on the corner of his lips.

You had expected that to be it, a little light hearted banter to keep the mood up.

But Daryl apparently had other ideas.

He sat up straight, pulling off his crossbow— shaking out of the poncho in question.

Within seconds he had it draped around your shoulders, a content look on his face that told you he felt like he'd done a wonderful service.

"Ya can have this one for now."

Reaching your hands up, you wrapped the fabric closer into your body— the faint smell of, what could only be described as *Daryl* wasping into your nostrils.

You supposed it wasn't your least favorite smell.

"Thank you."

He hummed, turning away from you again— pulling his bow into his lap.

You stared at him, without the extra layer you could see him fully. The build up of grime on his arms, the rise and fall of his chest.

It was as if you were seeing him for the first time.

It was a stupid notion to make, you'd  seen him plenty, hell— you'd known the man for probably over a year at this point.

But something about seeing him in the night sky had you unable to turn away.

He's beautiful

"What er' you lookin at." He griped, glancing your way with something not far off from irritation.

It definitely wasn't a question. But you answered anyways.

"You."

He leaned back on his hands, turning his head towards you, staring you in the eyes. Like he was looking for something.

"Why?"

It was a question this time— and it took you a moment to process. His voice was soft, much softer than you'd ever heard it before.

His walls weren't up right now.

"Because I think you're pretty."

You saw a look of— bewilderment? Crossed his face. A look that said— "what the fuck are you talking about".

It honestly made you giggle.

"I ain't pretty."

That got a real laugh out of you. Which seemed to only confuse him more.

"I think you are." You said, in between soft chuckles.

Scoffing he turned away, but you could see the wheels in his head turning, trying to figure out what to say next— or if he should say anything at all.

Seeing Daryl Dixon speechless was something you'd pride yourself on for years to come— you were sure of it.

You were feeling quite brave tonight— and maybe a bit mischievous. So you leaned into his space, placing one of your hands on his shoulders to keep your balance as you shuffled to your knees to face him.

"I can prove it"

He tensed under your touch, as if you were made of fire and he was afraid to get burnt.

He didn't say anything, just looking at you— that same wonderstruck look in his eyes. His walls still hadn't been build back up— he was allowing himself to be vulnerable.

Just for you it seemed.

Bringing your other hand to his cheek, you felt him flinch slightly.

Suddenly he knew what you were about to do.

And suddenly he realized— he didn't want to stop you.

Leaning down, you bright your lips to his. They were chapped— but they still had an underlying softness you hadn't expected.

It was just a peck, and you were satisfied with how it went down, leaning back on your heels to look at him.

"See—" you started, a slight chuckle already forming.

He looked at you, the last bit of his walls breaking down entirely at the look in your eyes.

"I only kiss pretty boys."

[imdead770]

The Outsiders x Reader fluff - Johnny Cade

Authors Note: He's so sweet, I love him so much. So sorry for the wait, but it's here now. Enjoy.

Johnny Cade

▪︎ Words cannot describe how sweet this boy is.

▪︎ Once he finally realized he liked you he tried to ignore it

▪︎ He's never really had a girlfriend, so the idea of finally having one freaks him out

▪︎ What if he got rejected? You were way out of his league, anyways. At least that's what he thinks.

▪︎ The gang practically had to force him to ask you out

▪︎ Either A) he asked you out indirectly

▪︎ Or B) the gang set out two up

▪︎ Either way, there you two were, sitting at the diner across from each other.

▪︎ It was pretty awkward at first, he didn't really know what to do, so he just drank his milkshake to fill the silence

▪︎ Eventually you finally managed to start a conversation

" ..remember when Two-Bit shaved that squirrel Pony found? "

" heh.. yeah "

▪︎ After that the two of you hit it off

▪︎ 15 minutes in and he got more comfortable, smiling every time you talked

▪︎ You both talked, sharing a basket of fries and drinking milkshakes. 10/10 date.

▪︎ He insisted to walk you back home

▪︎ You walked right beside each other the whole time

▪︎ He wanted to hold your hand but he wasn't really ready for the whole pda thing

▪︎ Which is fine, he warms up to it later.

▪︎ Whenever you got to your house he didn't want to leave

▪︎ Instead of saying 'goodbye' like a normal date, you kissed him right on the cheek

▪︎ His smile was the sweetest thing you ever saw.

▪︎ Once you two got to your third date he figured out he really liked you

▪︎ Not just a crush, this was a thing now.

▪︎ You were both sitting at the drive-in together, right beside each other

▪︎ That's when hee finally worked up the courage to put his hand on top of yours

▪︎ You just smiled, keeping your lit-up eyes on the movie screen

▪︎ Your first kiss was probably that same night

▪︎ Not anything intimate, just a really sweet 5-second kiss

▪︎ Someone in the gang probably somehow saw it

▪︎ The whole gang found out before Johnny even got back to the Curtis house

" HOLY SHIT, JOHNNY! "

" what..? "

" Whaddya mean what!? Ya' got 'er to kiss ya'?!?"

▪︎ Once you two got more comfortable with each other, physical affection became as normal as a blue sky.

▪︎ Sure he still flinched whenever you touch a scar on his hand, but it's getting better.

▪︎ He'll hold your hand, pull you against him, play with your hair, all that.

▪︎ He keeps pet names simple

▪︎ Baby, babe, darlin' or just your name

▪︎ Always makes time for you

▪︎ It doesn't matter if there's a rumble on date night, he'd come watch a movie with you with a broken nose.

" Johnny.. you sure you don't wanna go to a hospital? "

" I'm sure, baby, it ain't even that bad. "

▪︎ Dates are normally pretty laid back and of course, cheap.

▪︎ Drive-ins, movie nights, sitting in the lot together

▪︎ One night you just sat on the grass of the lot talking, sharing a cigarette (or not, you do you)

▪︎ It doesn't matter to him as long as he gets to spend time with youm

▪︎ After a while he starts coming to your house instead of the lot

▪︎ And he's so grateful for it

▪︎ He finally has somewhere to sleep that isn't lotus infested and cold

▪︎ That and he had someone he could trust, someone to hold him.

▪︎ He always feel safer with you, like nothing could happen.

▪︎ The gang's grateful for it too

▪︎ They notice that Johnny isn't as jumpy when you're around since he's too focused on you too even flinch.

▪︎ He always finds gifts to bring you

▪︎ Sometimes Soda will give him something free at DX, sometimes Dal will steal something, other times he'll just bring you flowers he found.

▪︎ He doesn't really flirt but he definitely compliments you a concerning amount.

▪︎ HIS SCAR!?

▪︎ The same way you'd trace Steve's tattoo or play with Dal's necklace, you'd trace his scar

▪︎ Him laying down with you, listening to your steady heartbeat as you push his greased hair back to trace the scar.

▪︎ The first time you did it he tensed up, but now it's relaxing to him

▪︎ The way your thumb goes from his eyebrow down to his cheekbone could make him fall asleep.

▪︎ 😭❤️

▪︎ He knows you don't like playing with his greased up hair, he doesn't like it either, so he starts washing his hair more

▪︎ Eventually he's at the Curtis house and your house more than he's at his house

▪︎ Again, everyone's grateful for it.

▪︎ It was probably some random night in your room where he said he loved you

▪︎ He was just laying on your chest, listening to you hum quietly as you played with his for-once-actually-clean-hair

".. yknow I love you, right? "

▪︎ It took you a second to process it.

" ..yeah, I know. Love you too, Johnny "

▪︎ 😭🫶

Two-Bit's next!

[thecommunityfridge]

A Masterpiece, by Sunset @pinkducttape

CW: Diapers, Wetting, Implied Messing, Sex Work, Implied Forced Regression

You always hate it when Mommy has to leave for work, it makes the house so lame and boring! Everything just got so much better when her bosses decided to let her work from home full-time and she decided you were going to be Little permanently.

Sure, at first you'd fought it, spankings and time-outs and lots of being "convinced" to love your diapers more and more, but look how it turned out! You had the bestest Mommy, you got to sleep in every day, kids' shows were way more fun than you expected, you ate the most yummy food, you got all the toys and cuddles and squishy times you wanted, as long as you were good, and the only responsibilities you had to worry about were the pictures and videos Mommy helped you to take for your Super Special 'Puter Friends.

All that, and Mommy had helped take away all the worries and fears and anxieties and shames that had been making you so sad, so being brave and dealing with the rare day when Mommy's Big Important Job needed her to go there to help, leaving you alone, was the least you could do to be a good Little for her, right?

You ponder all this as you toddle through the house, finishing the assignments for your fans Mommy had instructed you on, changing into your skimpy maid apron partway through and finishing some chores as you worked.

Yeah, it was a pretty great life, you decide, performing your first of two allowed diaper changes, wiping yourself thoroughly clean for the camera. You should do something nice for your Mommy, something even bigger than all the hugs and kisses and perverted grown-up things you usually do to show her how much you love her.

As you gulp down a couple jars of baby food, you feel a flash of inspiration. It's been a while since you've done it, but you used to be great draw-er, it was one of the things Mommy really liked about you back when she was your girlfriend!

Quickly, you find your canvas and your finger paint and all your other colors, and set to work, determined to make something so, so amazing for the most important person in your life, something she would never, ever forget.

You work for what feels like hours, putting great thought into every line and shift in hue, stopping only to get a snack and change out of your soiled padding. It takes so long that your legs start to feel funny, probably cause you're more used to crawling or being tied up now, and your foot feels cold, probably from dropped paint, but you're really proud of this beautiful picture you made for your perfect Mommy! You just know she's going to love it.

As you start to put the final touches on it, you hear a voice.

"Little love, I'm home! Did you have a good day?"

Mommy calls as she begins walking through the house to you. You giggle, excited for her to see your masterpiece.

"Babydoll? I see you did your chores, good job sweetie, do you wa-what. Is. That. What did you do?! Where is your diaper!?!"

As her voice raises, it lifts you ever so slightly from the deep subspace you exist in most of the time, and you turn in what you now realize is a puddle of pee to look again at your painting.

A manic swirl of colors, streaks of crayon and marker around two crude stick figures, handprints and smears of paint, food, and fouler things things framing them, outlining... maybe a sky? A house? You couldn't seem to recall your artistic vision as your dominant partner's anger replaces the pride you felt just moments ago with growing fear, as you stand staring at the wall Mommy used as a backdrop for her video meetings.

She was going to be very creative about your punishment this time, that was for sure.

[armoricaroyalty]

How does a marriage end? Is it severed, head from body, limb from limb? Extinguished, snuffed out like a candle? Unraveled, warp and weft, its threads wound back into spools? In physics, there is no creation or destruction, only transformation. Love operates on similar principles. Pour out a bucket of water, and the water doesn't go anywhere. It pools, flows, evaporates, but it isn't ever gone, just transformed into something else. Heartbreak becomes wisdom; love becomes grief. Elise, sixty years old and facing the prospect of long and lonely decades as an ex-something—ex-wife, ex-queen—was both sad and wise. She would have preferred to be happy and foolish.

Previous | Chapter Start | Beginning | Next

Author's note: Another one that has been in the drafts so long I forgot whether or not I had anything insightlful to say. Thank you to @housekonig for loaning me Cordelia and for your infinite patience!

Transcript under the cut.

Blackwell Palace // February 2018

[ clock ticking ] ELISE | [ offscreen ] ...and I called him three times today. Three times! ELISE | ...and he can't even be bothered to pick up the phone and return my call. CORDELIA | I'm so sorry, Elise. CORDELIA | I wish I knew what to say... ELISE | [ offscreen ] There's nothing to say. ELISE | We're going to tell the children this weekend. We've asked them all up to Morley. CORDELIA | [ offscreen ] Oh no... ELISE | [ sighs ] This year was going to be our 29th anniversary. CORDELIA | Twenty-nine years...he's treated you terribly, hasn't he? ELISE | [ sighs ] No. He hasn't. Or at least...he didn't used to. ELISE | That's the hardest part of all of this, we were never unhappy. There were bumps in the road, sure, but that's all they ever were. Bumps. CORDELIA | Yes, but how many bumps does a road have to have before it's...well, bumpy? Thirty years is a long time, but how many of those years were good years? How many were just unexceptional. How many were bad? ELISE | [ sighs ] We had a good marriage, Cord. After everything that's happened, everyone wants to rewrite history, but...it wasn't like that with the two of us. There were no warning signs, we ere happy together. For years and years, we were happy. CORDELIA | ...is that why you're still wearing your ring? ELISE | [ sighs ] I just want to go back to how things were. We used to need each other. It used to be just the two of us and our little family against the world. CORDELIA | And that homewrecker was out in the cold, where she belongs? ELISE | [ offscreen ] Cordelia-- ELISE | You know I don't like talking about...all of that. CORDELIA | [ sighs ] CORDELIA | Just once, I wish you'd get mad. Elise, you've been treated terribly, used up and thrown out, and you deserve to scream and shout and be angry with him! ELISE | Cordelia, please. CORDELIA | It's true! It's not the 19th century, you don't have to look the other way. Any other woman would be furious with him, with both of them! They both betrayed you, but you still won't stand up for yourself! CORDELIA | even now, you're still defending him! ELISE | Enough. CORDELIA | I'm sorry, Elise. It had to be said. ELISE | I said enough. ELISE | [ offscreen ] Cordelia, you know me better than almost anyone. All those summers we spent together when the kids were little...you're one of my oldest friends. You're one of my only friends. And I would prefer to stay friends. Just...let this drop. Please. CORDELIA | ... ELISE | ... CORDELIA | Well, how are the wedding plans coming along? ELISE | ...good. Emily chose her tiara today. CORDELIA | Oh, that's wonderful! You know, I'm so happy for the two of them! They're so photogenic, they're even getting coverage in Vernick. ELISE | [ offscreen [ Where does the time do? I can't believe Freddy's getting married. I swear, it's like I blinked and he was all grown up. I thought he'd be little forever... CORDELIA | [ laughs gently ] It goes by so fast, doesn't it?

[magicae-est-realis]

In tribute to Jorge's amazing new Wisdom Saga (from Epic: The Musical) which I've been listening to on loop for the last hour, the newest Fablehaven Beastiary addition had to be Sun Cattle.

Fablehaven never alluded to any gods or religions, so creative liberties have been taken, since neither Apollo nor Helios exist. But I think they're adorable so I had to add them.

The cattle contain mini suns held between their horns- several preserves keep them for energy sources. They're long-lived (several centuries at least) and cows normally only have two separate calves in their lifetime, though twins and triplets aren't uncommon. They're born teeny tiny, without horns or suns for better camouflage. Their colour slightly undoes this, but the cattle live in preserves now so haven't evolved a smarter approach.

As their horns grow, their suns begin to form, brighter and brighter as their horns complete a single loop. A broken horn will extinguish their sun, and as their suns give them their longevity, injured cattle will live the rest of their lives the same length as a regular dairy cow.

Their horns are magical. Kinda have to be to contain a sun. Horn poaching was an issue before preserves and the cattle nearly went extinct, an issue that heavily influenced the decision to create preserves at all. They have since recovered. The magic in their horns hold their sun in place and prevents it from burning anything. Touching the suns isn't recommended but it won't kill you due to their horns' magic. You will, however, likely have to visit the ER for a severe electrical shock from the magic and burns from the proximity to the sun (this heat is only an issue for any bare skin within a 10cm radius of the sun itself.)

The cattle are varying shades of glowing gold- excellent nightlights, but not if you're trying to sleep. Very gentle unless you mess with a calf. Known for regularly giving electric shocks to anyone who tries to pet them, though their fur is rather short to avoid being singed by their sun. They are immune to fire and heat and run warmer than any other mammal, though not by much. Enough you'd want cow cuddles on a cold day.

[lesuccube]

➚ 𝐅𝐎𝐋𝐃𝐄𝐑 : ᴍᴀʀᴄ ꜱᴘᴇᴄᴛᴏʀ — ᴀʟᴏɴᴇ ; ᴛᴏɢᴇᴛʜᴇʀ

𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒 — ghosts aren't the only ones capable of haunting , sometimes it's the people you love most in the world .

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆 — angst bug [ read at your own risk ! ]

𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓 — not beta'd , constructive criticism is welcomed . reblogs and comments are appreciated .

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓 — 3.8k

sometimes we fly

sometimes we fall

sometimes i feel like we're nothing at all

dream in the light

dance in the dark

you fill the spaces inside of my heart

married for 3 years, dated for 2, you'd think by then you would know a person so well, better than you'd know yourself. but for you? for you it feels like you never knew marc at all. he still looks like your husband, talks and acts like him but at the same time he's not. distant, quiet(er) and cold, so very much unlike the man you had fallen in love with in the beginning. sure he was like that when you first met but you got to know him better, saw the deepest, darkest parts of him and kissed them all.

marc has a certain warmth once you get past his shell, a type of fire that burns bright that not even the rain of his tears nor the floods of his past can put out. he was always tough or rather, time made him tougher. the abuse he faced after randall's death, running away from home because he can no longer handle his mother's beatings eating away at the very core of him. he had hoped joining the marines might help him forget, it didn't. not all the way at least.

the rain of bullets sometimes reminded him of his time at the cave, the torrential downpour that afternoon flooding the cramped hole they were in, roro's desperate pleas for help. every pull on the trigger brings him back to the sounds of a leather belt clutched in his mom's fist as she slams it down on his childish body again and again, spews of profanities and accusations, wanting her youngest child back and it would go on for what felt like an eternity until his father would hold his mother back, physically dragging her away from his curled up form on the floor with welts blooming on his skin, hands pressed to his ears as he sobs repeating the words 'it's not my fault' until he passes out.

life hasn't been kind for marc spector since then… until you.

marc never knew how sunshine felt on his skin until your touch, only the way it burned during his tours or from his mother's hands. didn't recognize warmth until your hugs only the heat of his gun after a mission. he's long since forgotten how spring felt before your laughter reached his ears, he was a desert before he met you.

you were vibrant and brimming with life, a stark contrast to his bleak world of gray's and red's. marc often called you his star, as he is moon knight, he had told you that the moon can never be alone in the night sky if there is even a star that shone next to it. you kissed him breathless after that.

marc loves you, really he does. he still has difficulties expressing himself and often chooses to retreat within his shell whenever he's overwhelmed with emotion, especially the bad ones. but you had learned how to coax him out again, somehow you always knew when to save him from drowning, he thinks you're telepathic. and he had married you because he felt like you were his saving grace, his paradise after all the sins and pain he's caused to those around him.

he doesn't regret it at all, seeing you in white as you walked towards him. you shone like a star, fallen from heaven just to grace his lonesome self with your presence. that night during your wedding, he swore his heart was full and his love for you was endless. it'll never change, nothing will.

but recently, marc keeps on repressing himself. after every mission he comes back to, he becomes like a statue, devoid of any emotion. you've tried to help him as much as you can but he would only shrug you off, grabbing a can of beer before disappearing into the bedroom, not even glancing at the dinner you had prepare for him hours before while waiting for his arrival.

you tell yourself it's fine, he'll come around soon, that he was simply exhausted with the burden he carried as the vigilante moon knight, tired with an invisible god constantly speaking over his shoulder and head.

you tell yourself it's okay. but until how long will this cycle continue? how long has it been since the first time you've convinced yourself that it won't happen again? you don't know, you've lost count after a month of cold shoulders from him.

am i really mine?

are you really yours?

if all your emotions cut straight to my core

times when you cry, i feel it all

whenever you leave me i wait for your call

you are everything i'm living for

the first time marc missed a big occasion, you tried not to think too much about it.

it was your birthday, celebrated in the middle of spring ("fitting", marc has said before when he celebrated it with you for the first time, "because you are an ever blooming garden with so much love to give and yet ask nothing in return even if your flowers are plucked, only pray they'd treat it with kindness.") and he was nowhere to be seen. you weren't even supposed to go out that day, having decided that you would both spend the day in bed, eating cake and watching a game of baseball even if you didn't understand a single thing about the sport.

marc loved it and in turn you did too. but your husband was mia, not in bed or in the kitchen, he wasn't home. only when you checked your phone did you know that he wasn't even in the country.

'in kenya, be back soon. x'

not even a single greeting in his message. the apartment you shared felt cold that day despite the warm sun shining outside the large windows of your bedroom, bathing the space in natural lighting. a stark contrast to how you felt inside.

when he finally came home, two weeks later, he saw you sleeping on the couch. curled up in one of his hoodies and a blanket draped over your form as the tv played quietly in the otherwise silent apartment. kneeling beside you, his fingers brush away the strands getting in the way of your features, the brief gesture rousing you from your slumber as you blink your eyes awake, vision clearing to find your husband in front of you, a little worse for wear but still in one piece.

"hi baby." he greets you softly as you sit up, rubbing the sleep from your eyes, "why are you sleeping on the couch? it can't be comfortable." you only sigh as you turn your head to look at him, the skin under your eyes visibly darker, clearly you haven't been sleeping well since he left you while you were asleep two weeks ago.

"you forgot." you told him blankly, running a hand through your hair, combing down the bedhead.

"forgot what baby? i don't— i don't understand." you smiled weakly as you raise your knees to your chest, wrapping your arms around them and resting your head there. "my birthday." you whispered, "two weeks ago.

shit, marc thinks to himself. he had gotten so wrapped up with his duty as moon knight, khonshu giving him more and more missions recently that he'd forgotten. never in the five years you've known marc had he missed it since the first time he celebrated your birthday with you, never. until now. "i'm sorry baby, i— i forgot and i got so busy—" you had shushed him, cupping his cheek with your palm. it's okay, was what you had said, there's always next year.

marc knew you'd forgiven him but he doesn't quite think the same way. he carried you back to bed that night, the bags he brought with him forgotten by the door. making it a priority to cuddle you, talk to you until you fall back asleep.

when you woke up the next day, he prepared you breakfast in bed, having woken up early despite his jetlag to run by your favorite café to get you your favorites. he spent the day with you the way he was supposed to, promising to make it up to you.

if you go down

then we go down together

if you hold on

i might just stay forever

if you get hurt

i'll try to make it better

if you go down

then we go down together

the house is silent most of the time, marc's presence haunting every corner of it despite his growing absence. you look around the place again, his favorite mug sitting on the kitchen counter with half of his black coffee still inside. a bunch of postcards thumbtacked and decorating a part of your living room walls, showcasing all the places he's been to ever since he became khonshu's moon knight. his favorite cap was still hooked on your bedroom door's knob, you keep forgetting to hang it in your shared wardrobe whenever you cleaned the place up.

there were so many traces of him living with you and yet he was like a ghost. you rarely see him these days, even more so at night when the god would demand of his time.

never had you been so jealous of a bird before.

sometimes we're right

sometimes we're wrong

sometimes the lines just never been drawn

nights when we fight

we strike a chord

and then we forget what we've been fighting for

the pattern continued for months and the days began to turn colder with autumn right around the corner. marc was beginning to miss bigger events and moments in your shared life. some of those would lead to larger arguments whenever you'd confront him about it, never screaming at each other but you had both definitely said a lot of things you regret but don't take back. well, marc doesn't. not like he hasn't even been communicating much with you anyways.

marc never apologizes after each fight, you do though. you'd press yourself to his back when you're both settled in bed, holding on to the back of his shirt as you whisper apologies, murmuring how you don't want to fight with him, you never do.

"i just miss you. you've been gone more and for much longer periods of time it feels like you're never here at all." you admitted weakly, sniffling as your emotions come bubbling at the surface again but you're exhausted, previous arguments draining your energy. "it's hard when you're not around."

he's missed so much in your lives it hurt, especially when you had lost your father during the fall, your only family, and he wasn't there to comfort you. during the whole wake, you sobbed in the arms of your godmother, your heart cracked and torn at the edges at the loss of the man who had raised you, the man who had walked you down the aisle to meet your currently missing husband and it broke you.

you lost one man and yet in that week and more, it felt like you mourned for two.

marc didn't show up at the three day service, not even for the funeral. all your calls went straight to voicemail and your texts left on read. whether he just doesn't bother to reply or was blatantly ignoring you, you'll never know but he was met with an empty apartment when he came back after another mission by the ancient god, you had chosen to sleep at your childhood home, yearning for your deceased father as you wept in his old bedroom.

the following weeks after that, you'd given marc the cold shoulder, much like he does to you until you broke, unable to stand the distance it sets between you. moments of love few and far in between fights and continual disappearances but it always ends the same way, with you in tears as marc holds you in his arms, whispers of empty promises gluing back pieces of you he doesn't even know he broke. a temporary fix.

lay on the floor

sleep in your arms

pausing the world to stay right where we are

close all the blinds

lock all the doors

things fall apart and i'm wanting you more

you are everything i'm living for

the final straw was when he missed your third wedding anniversary one winter evening.

you had both sat down and talked about this weeks ago, marc finally agreeing to make up for the times he's been gone and fighting when he's around. you were able to snag a reservation at a really popular restaurant downtown, buying yourselves a fitting outfit for the day as you had wanted to make it special. you secretly bought a small gift for marc too, nervous as you hid it away until said date rolled around.

when your anniversary came, marc, as per routine by now, wasn't in bed. he's already left for the day doing what he needed to do and promised you the night before that he'll be there in time to pick you up for dinner.

well... the hours ticked by fast, nighttime falling just around the corner amd snow beginning to settle on the concrete streets and you were dressed to the nines and warm, although it was already approaching quarter to eight and your reservation was at 8:20, the journey from your apartment to the restaurant taking at least 20 minutes if traffic wasn't too bad.

you arrived at the packed restaurant with three more minutes until your reservation was to be passed to someone else, the host guiding you to your seat, a table for two, though it was only you present. your server followed not too far, handing you a menu to which you had ordered a bottle of some red wine, hoping to ease your nerves with it.

it wasn't until it was almost 10 in the evening when marc arrived, his curls no longer staying slicked back and his tux looking like it was put on in a rush with his tie knotted loosely and crooked around his neck, his shoulders wet with melted snow and a wrinkled bouquet of your favorite flowers in hand. but when he approached the host, stating his reservation, she looked at him with pity before shaking her head.

"i'm sorry mr. spector but your reservation ended thirty minutes ago, your wife arrived and paid for the bill on the bottle of wine she had ordered but that was about it."

he had thanked her before nearly dashing out of the restaurant, flowers still clutched in hand as he hailed a cab home. he ran a hand through his curls, muttering curses to himself throughout the ride back and ignoring the egyptian god in his head.

when he turned his keys in the lock, the whole place was dark, the heels you've worn for the night thrown haphazardly along with your coat and bag, all these items trailing to your shared bedroom.

he creeps in quietly, toeing off his shoes as he sits down next to your curled up form under the blankets. you didn't even take your dress off, only washing your face off the makeup you'd carefully applied but there was still some mascara trailing down your cheeks, it was obvious that you'd been crying.

his heart squeezes tight in his chest, guilt eating at his core. he knows he hasn't been the best husband as of late, dealing with a lot of things all at once with khonshu and all the goddamn missions he's been sending him off to in god knows where most of the time. but it didn't excuse the fact that this was something you mutually planned, talked about in the previous weeks.

god he knew how excited you were about it, your face lighting up for the first time in a very long while that he's seen and now it feels like he's been punched in the stomach— no it felt much worse than that seeing that not only did he stand you up for a date, your third wedding anniversary at that, he had gone and let you starve and made you cry yourself to sleep.

he's not sure that making up for this the next day could fix the damage he's already caused but he was going to try. he swore to himself he would...

had it not been for khonshu meaning him take on another mission, hunting down ammit's worshippers that very same night.

and you were left all alone yet again.

if you go down

then we go down together

if you hold on

i might just stay forever

you couldn't stand it anymore.

you love marc, god knew just how much you loved that man but good the past half year, it felt like you were married to a ghost and you don't want to spend another waking moment with him gone.

you don't know where marc was this time, long since updated you where he's been going, only saying when he'll be home. and he was supposed to be home tonight so you waited.

you sat on your living room couch, glancing around the room for the faint traces your husband was still with you, a ghost that haunts your memories, taking up space in your home even though he wasn't even around much anymore. you don't know what hurt more, the fact that you're married yet you two act like two strangers living under the same roof or that he's treating you like you were the ghost, lingering around your shared home and watching his every movement during the little time he spends there.

you're hurt, so fucking hurt it makes you numb. and that hurts even more because in all honesty, you want to cry and scream and punch, claw at his chest and make him see things your way but fuck if you weren't exhausted, tired from keeping a failing marriage alive. you don't regret being with marc, but you hate how much he's changed since then.

you sat there and waited as the hours passed by you, the moon rising and you begin to hear the familiar jingle of his keys turning the locks of the front door.

you didn't mean to turn it into a fight but you're drained and your patience was running thin and marc, god. he was infuriating with that cold shoulder. ignoring your pleas to talk and heading to the kitchen to grab a cold beer. it took all of you not to smash that metal can away from his hands.

"if you would just listen to me marc! i'm begging you! you're out more than you're home and you don't come back until it's deep into the night and i'm already asleep, jesus i don't even see you when i wake up!"

"i have duties—"

"yes i know, you do but baby, i'm not asking you for much okay?" your voice cracks as the dam cracks and fractures, all the things you've bottled up and ignored pushing against the walls in giant waves, testing the limits of your emotions.

"i'm not asking you to stop what you do... just look my way every now and then. is that— am i asking for too much to want my husband to come home to me?"

he sets the can down on the kitchen counter, the dim lights above the counter shines over him, casting a dark shadow over his face and he nearly looks unrecognizable with that unreadable expression on his face.

and for a moment it scared you that you were no longer speaking to your marc at all.

"all i ask, marc, is to set a time for me too. god knows i've been patient and i try to understand you as best as i can because i know you carry a heavy burden, okay? i know, but marc, does it hurt for once to be here? to be with me? because why the fuck are we even married if you're just going to act like i don't goddamn exist at all?!"

he stays quiet, eyes still trained on you as the tears start to fall, the dam beginning to fissure and break, the waves of hurt pushing and pushing and pushing until it shatters the intricately built wall you created.

"i miss you." you whisper, "i've missed you." you stress as you run a hand through your locks, turning on your heel to sit at the living room couch, burying your face in your hands as you take deep breaths, too fucking tired of being the understanding wife to a husband who was never around anymore, not in your time of need and not even when you hit rock bottom.

was this even the marc who had laughed so warmly at you as you both danced under the night sky, the one who would show up at every date with a fresh bouquet of your favorite flowers, was this even the same marc that said i do as he lifted the veil from your face just to kiss you like he's never before? because he sure as hell doesn't act like it anymore.

for once it's you who disappears, when the clock strikes 2 in the morning and marc had fallen deep asleep, your own bags packed the weeks before that lead up to this.

for once it was him who woke up to an empty bed and an even emptier apartment. most of your clothes gone from their hangers in the closet, your toothbrush gone from the bathroom sink along with your tray of skincare products, and with your disappearance did marc feel empty, a part of him missing as you left.

for once, marc begins to live here in your shared apartment again, looking around at the final traces of you lingering within these walls. now he lives with the ghost of you, haunting him through dreams and memories, his every waking and sleeping moment a nightmare the longer you stay gone.

for once, it's marc who deals with the loss of a loved one. and you're not there to comfort him and keep him from sinking, he drowns in the waters you've left from your broken dam of hurt, flooding his life and his heart with a burden much heavier than anything he's felt before.

you haunt him, like he used to haunt you. you went down and left, taking all the love you had with you. leaving behind the shell of the man that marc spector used to be. and now he was sinking too, drowning in your absence, drinking your ghost away.

if you get hurt

i'll try to make it better

if you go down

then we go down together

[farmerlarrry]

Orange Slices (Joel Miller x f!reader)

masterlist | chapter fourteen | chapter thirteen| read on ao3 | playlist

story summary: A story about finding companionship and love in the midst of chaos.

a/n: Short–er chapter than usual, but the last few larger chapters completely turned my brain into mush lol and needed a little bit of fluff to cleanse my palate. The last bit was heavily inspired by the song “Wondering Why” by The Red Clay Strays, so shout out to all the people on tiktok for saying this is the perfect song to slow dance to, ily! I hope you are all having a lovely start to December! Stay safe!! :)

word count: 5982

if you want to be notified when I post new chapters, follow @farmerlarrrylibrary and put on notifications! If you'd rather be tagged, just let me know.

Chapter Fifteen

Neither you nor Joel spoke of that night in the weeks that followed. Although left unspoken, what almost happened never left your thoughts. Every waking moment, whether you were with Joel or not, it consumed every part of you, oftentimes leaving you wondering if you’d ever get a chance like that again. You were sure it consumed Joel as well. He was still the same man as before, but something very subtly changed. The way he treats you and looks at you– something was different behind those complex eyes, something deep down. It was almost as if he’d gone soft on you, but was desperately trying to hide the fact, probably a way to try and protect himself. If that was the case, you understood why.  

There was a small part of you that felt embarrassed about that night, your feelings had been put on full display, something that you didn’t think Joel was aware of up until that point. His had been too, which made you wonder if he was embarrassed about it as well– if he regretted revealing that part of him–and perhaps that’s why nothing had been said by him. Every time that thought resurfaced, it nearly sent you into a panic.

You kept having to reassure yourself, knowing him, if he had regretted it, things would not have stayed so… normal between the two of you. Joel still stops by your place in the morning, the two of you sharing breakfast and coffee before heading out for patrol. If anything, the two of you began spending more time together. On the nights you aren’t at Charles’, you and Joel spend together. Tommy would sometimes join, but when Nessa found out about it all of a sudden she needed Tommy home more. 

Although you told yourself that you’d stop drinking, it was the one thing you and Joel often did together. Wake up, patrol, drink… you had a nearly permanent headache, but for you, it was a small price to pay. You were finally content with the life you’ve created, even happy at times. 

James had been avoiding you since that day too. You truly intended to talk to him, not that what you’d say would make things any better, but you at least owed that to him; an explanation. Of the many times you tried, he’d either leave as soon as you were within a 20-foot radius of him and the times you caught him off guard, he’d simply walk away without a word or look directed at you. You missed your chance to talk to James, missed the opportunity when it actually counted, and would come off as genuine.

You thought of maybe writing him a letter, leaving it on his doorstep or with Charles to pass it on to him– that way you’d know for certain he got it, whether he ended up reading it or ripping it to shreds; at least you would know that you tried. Ultimately, the thought seemed insincere and cringe, so you decided just to let things be. 

The remnants of your actions haunted you enough as it is. Between the dirty looks you received from Heather and Aimee, the cold shoulder treatment you received from Nessa, and Dottie constantly asking why you and James never come over together anymore– you felt like all that was punishment enough.

“Why don’t you and James ever come over together anymore,” Dottie often asked some variation of this question crossing her arms and furrowing her brows.

With Charles grimacing in the background, pretending as if he doesn’t hear, you’d return Dott’s curiosity with your own variation of answers– our schedules don’t line up anymore, he’s busy tonight, I was busy with… You wondered if she pressed James about it every time he came over, wondering what he said in response. 

Your actions followed you wherever you went, the only time you had real peace was when you were either alone at home, or when you were out on patrol with Joel with no one else around. The constant stares you received from the other guards around your age left you wondering who had been running their mouths and how much of it was actually the truth. 

Jackson reminded you much of the small town you were from, at least from what little you remember of it. The sense of a close-knit community, for the most part, you could rely on each other, but when it came to the gossip… Everyone took what they heard as fact and had no issues spreading it around.

–

The night after you and Charles spoke in the isolated corner of Jackson BBQ, you went over to his house for dinner as planned. A nervousness fisted your stomach, making it twist and turn with every hesitant step you took toward his house. You wondered if James would be there; if Charles had told him of your company that night– 

Unsurprisingly, James had not come. You weren’t quite sure if you were relieved by this or if some part of you had wished had shown up. 

After the excitement of your company had settled and Dottie and Henry went to sleep, you and Charles sat in his study like the two of you used to do. Most of the time spent had been in silence, but you knew Charles had something to say. His face clearly indicated he was biting his tongue, forcing himself to swallow whatever words that had been filling his mouth, remaining unspoken. 

“James is a good boy, you know,” He finally spoke, his words coming out calm but a feeling of heat behind them lingered after the room returned to silence. You let out a huff of air. “He’s got a good head on his shoulders.” 

All you could do was nod; a nod with no meaning other than you didn’t want to leave what he said unacknowledged. What you really wanted to do at the moment was roll your eyes, and if it had been anyone other than Charles initiating this conversation, perhaps you would have. 

“And,” His voice shook as if he was unsure whether to continue, smacking his lips and taking a moment to ponder on his thoughts. You watched him carefully out of the corner of your eye, your body slumped in the firm sofa chair. You tapped your fingers along your thigh as you waited for him to continue. “Joel, he’s–”

At the sound of his name, you shot up from out of your chair before he could finish, beginning to take long strides toward the front door. Whatever he was going to say about Joel, you didn’t want to hear it. You endured the nasty comments from everyone too often, biting your tongue when all you wanted to do was shoot something nasty back at them. You wouldn’t hear it from Charles. 

As you opened the door, Charles came up from behind you, pushing his palm against the door causing it to slam shut. The sound vibrated through the house leaving Charles cringing and eyeing the children’s bedrooms. Although your hand remained on the doorknob, you hadn’t tried to open it again, standing still while your breathing became messy, your chest rising and falling rapidly. 

“Joel’s a fine man too,” Charles’ voice was dark as he spoke, but he was quick to release the words. His statement slightly caught you off guard, forcing you to face him slowly. You couldn’t bring yourself to look him in the eye and instead settled on staring at his shoes. “A lot of people here don’t get him and that’s– it is what it is, but he's a good man. He cares and a lot of people don’t nowadays.” 

You felt as if you were stripped bare, your mind and soul naked and completely vulnerable. All you could do was stare at the ground, how the shadow of Charles’ shoes met the raw grain of the wood and the gaps between each plank leading to an abyss of darkness. You couldn’t bring yourself to move, your shoulders tensing up to the point of pain. 

“Why are you telling me this?” Your voice was small. Putting his arm on your shoulder, Charles guided you over to the couch. The two of you took a seat in unison. 

“James told me his… suspicious the day Joel came back, and then you were wearing Joel’s shirt at dinner– let me finish,” His voice was calm, soothing your panic. You tried to butt in, demanding to know whatever James told him, but Charles made you listen. “As I told you before, I’m not going to tell you what to do, but I’ll offer you my thoughts, you can take them as they are.” 

Taking a moment to calm yourself, you nodded, urging him to continue. In, out, in… you guided yourself, the stuffy warm air barely doing anything to ease your breathing.

“Regardless of going about it the wrong way, you’re allowed to feel that way– you aren’t… you don’t belong to anyone,” He finally spoke, the reassurance running through you like a sip of cold water on a hot summer day. 

“I fucked up Charles,” You stated simply. “I should’ve– I should have actually talked to James, but Joel came back and– and–” You shook your head, coming to a loss for words, “I didn’t know if Joel would feel the same, and talking about it to anyone was just too much.  I– I don’t know. I thought I liked James, I really did, but when I saw Joel– and my heart, I just felt–”

The words rushed out of your mouth, you weren’t sure if any of it made sense. Charles nodded as he listened, though you weren’t sure he quite understood. You shrugged to signal you were out of words, left with nothing else to say as your breathing turned to shallow sharp inhales. Charles grabbed your hand, holding it in his, and ran soft strokes along your knuckles. You stared at your conjoined hands as he continued, it reminded you of your father, and how he used to calm you when you were in a panic. 

“Does Joel feel the same way?” Charles’ voice was monotonous when he asked. Forcing yourself to look up at him, you swallowed against the lump in your throat.

“Wha– what?” You narrowed your eyes at him, confused. Your heart began to beat wildly in your chest.

“You said you didn’t know if Joel would feel the same way,” he quickly responded, a hint of confusion gleaming in his eyes.

You brought in your bottom lip tugging on it continuously between your teeth as flashbacks from the previous night poured in. You hadn’t realized your wording, you should’ve been more careful. 

“I don’t know,” you quickly correct yourself. You weren’t entirely wrong, for all you knew last night was just… you let out a soft sigh at your own thoughts. “I don’t know if he does.”

A silence fell between the two of you and you became too aware of the soft ticking of the wall clock. Tick, tick, tick. It sounded loud in your ears, your eardrums seizing on each tick.

“Let me talk to James, okay?” he finally said. A weight instantly released from your tense shoulders, the lingering headache disappearing in an instant. Coward, a voice whispered to you, but you ignored it–at least tried to ignore it. 

“Please don’t tell anyone,” A heat washed over your face, your body folding in on itself, “about Joel, that is.” 

–

On this particular night, after a long day’s journey to an abandoned ranch and back, you and Joel found yourselves at The Tipsy Bison, tucked in the corner taking in drink after drink and going back and forth between playing billiards and darts.

The bartender for the night apparently was not very happy with how rowdy the two of you became over who won and who lost as well as how riled up you made some of the other guests for the night, to which he sent over Nora– out of everyone, her? You rolled your eyes, knowing she would likely report this back to James– to tell you it was time to wrap things up and go elsewhere. 

“Yours or mine?” Joel asked without fully clarifying what he meant, he knew you would know what he was asking. You jogged the few feet that separated the two of you, nearly tripping over your own feet before slowing down as he pushed against the door with his back and held it open for you. 

You took a moment to think as you stumbled out onto the porch, your hand lightly finding his wrist to grab onto for a short moment to keep you steady. He waited for your answer, slowly taking a few steps down, his torso angled towards you. You were humming softly to yourself as you sort through your thoughts, which were a blur even to you given your state. 

“Probably yours, because–” you started to say but stopped yourself mid-sentence. Joel completely turned his body to face you, now slowly walking backward in front of you. His face twisted in confusion. “Actually, I know a place we can go to.”

Joel cocked his head waiting for you to reveal the location.

The abandoned building.

–

The entire walk you were hoping to whatever higher power there was that the others weren’t there. You didn’t see them at the bar so that didn’t leave many other places they could be. You knew that Drew and James were both due to go out for an overnight run sometime this week to Teton Valley, but that still left Heather, Aimee, and Nessa unaccounted for. They wouldn’t go out there, not without James or Drew, you kept telling yourself–reassuring yourself–of the fact that the three girls were a bit wary of how far away the building was from the main part of the community, regardless of the safety each guard ensured as a priority.

It wasn’t a quick walk by any means. You had to walk past the cemetery and greenhouses to where a field lay bare. In recent months, Maria has tasked some of the community members to turn half of it into more farmland and the other half left to expand the greenhouses, but the work efforts have been slow, especially with the urgent help with harvesting. 

Past the field where the trees stand dense, there is a pathway, easily missed if you don’t know what you’re looking for. That pathway leads to the building and about a hundred yards past the building was the fencing that kept Jackson contained.  

Although it was hidden away from the community and not used for anything in particular, many of the guards as well as Maria and Tommy knew about it. No one ever explicitly said not to go to it, but many of those who knew about it seem to forget about it which is how it became the go to hang out spot for you and the others. It offered a sense of secrecy with safety and was far enough from the main parts of Jackson where you never had to worry about being too loud. 

The darkness crawled at your skin and a feeling of being watched hovered around you which seemed to help you sober up. Joel was behind you, only a few feet separating you from him. Occasionally you’d peer over your shoulder, mainly to make sure he was still there, in case you needed him for some reason. You could tell, even in the darkness, he was a bit hesitant about following you. 

“Where’re we goin’?” Joel asked for the fifth time as you passed the cemetery, each time he asked his tone became less and less patient. Regardless of his tone, the sound of his voice sent a calming effect to run its course through your body, settling your churning insides. 

“You don’t like surprises huh?” A faint smile formed as the breathy words came out of your mouth. It amused you to see him like this; fidgety like he had ants in his pants.

“No, not–” His voice conveyed to you that he was very clearly annoyed. You let out an overdramatic sigh which immediately shut him up. 

“You’re no fun,” You turned your body to look at him, narrowing your eyes at him as you stopped walking. He only stopped when there was about a foot separating the two of you. 

“Fun enough for you to spend your nights with me ‘parently,” he spat back almost immediately, a bit of humor and amusement lingering in his tone. As much as you wanted to fire back at him, you ignored his comment and started to slowly continue down the field. You could almost make out the details of the trees even in the darkness, meaning you were almost there. 

“Remember how I told you I would hang out with Nessa and her friends?” he nodded, falling into step right next to you. You paused before continuing, “I’m taking you to where we used to go.”

“And if they’re there?” The words rushed out of his mouth. The thought made a sense of anxiety fill your chest. 

“I think Drew and James are gone, but if the other three are there, then… we’ll find somewhere else to go.” You tried to steady your voice as you spoke. The thought of them seeing the two of you together, especially seeing you and Joel go to a place that’s so… secluded, did not settle well in your gut. 

When Joel didn’t answer, you looked up at his face. His lips were set in a thin, tight line and his eyes were hardened, locked on the gravel crunching beneath his boots with each heavy step. You pinned your eyebrows together, is he anxious? Anxious that they will be there, that they’ll see us, or anxious that it will just be us? 

You took one step to the side closer to him and gently knocked your elbow against Joel’s arm, catching his attention. His eyes widened as if he had been lost in some sort of mind-consuming thought.

“Okay?” You asked, desperate for some sort of reassurance that he was okay and this was okay.

He gave you a single nod, his body remaining tense. 

–

The lights weren’t on when you arrived at the crumbling building, a shadow of blackness surrounded it. Regardless of the fact, you still slowly peeked your head inside to make sure no one had been in there before trying the switch to illuminate the dark room. Even though they didn’t come on, you still flipped the switch a few more times, desperately hoping you wouldn’t have to go in blind. The building was relatively safe, but the dark still gave you the chills–the thought of something hiding, waiting to grab you– the fear still haunted you. 

You let out a loud sigh.

“The generator is a bit finicky,” you said plainly. The many memories of Drew kicking at it and cursing under his breath immediately resurfaced.

“Sure it’s safe?” he asked as he poked his head past the threshold of the door. Joel gently grabbed onto your bicep as he continued to survey the vast darkness of the building. His concern provoked a small breathy laugh from you. 

“Let’s hope,” you responded, half serious. Joel let out a throaty hum, not coming off as too enthusiastic. 

Joel followed closely behind you as you entered. 

–

You finally managed to get the generator that James somehow managed to get many moons ago to turn on and went around to the various outlets to plug in the string lights. Joel slowly walked around the perimeter of the room with his hands clasped behind his back, running his eyes along the walls filled with posters and pictures the gang had once put up, looking at the furniture all of you managed to take from the donation center somehow unnoticed or from the few homes that remained unoccupied. Though you were never on the best terms with most of them, a lot of memories had been created in this very room–times of peace and ease. Showing him this place must have felt almost as vulnerable as it must have felt for him showing you his spot. An ache began to develop deep in your chest. You let out a deep sigh, letting the ache escape into the air.

His eyes lingered for a good while on a section of the wall that had been solely dedicated to the Polaroid pictures that had been taken on the nights spent here. Bringing his fingers up to one that was stuck at an angle beneath another picture, he pulled it loose. From your quick glance across the room, you didn’t have to be next to him to know that it was the picture of you and James. 

James had both of his hands covering your eyes, a wide grin spread across his face. You had your hands wrapped around his wrists, your knuckles white as you tried to tear them away from your face. The longer you thought about it, you could have sworn you could hear yours and James’ overlapping giggles, Nessa yelling out ‘cheese’ before pressing down the shutter button. The ache formed once again, this time spreading from your chest to the pit of your stomach.

Without saying anything, barely provoking any sort of reaction from him, Joel turned and set it down on one of the side tables. As the picture left the tips of his fingers, his attention was immediately shifted elsewhere. Joel picked up one of the records from the stack piled on one of the small side tables, taking a seat on the worn and faded brown couch.

The distraction allowed you to swiftly sweep past the table, picking up the photo and slipping it into your back pocket to be discarded eventually. 

You came up to Joel’s side. Using the back of the wooden chair next to him to keep you stable, you bent over the side of the couch to the corner where the last string of light’s plug hung free from the outlet. The heat of his body clung to the back of your cold limbs and you leaned in, closing the distance between the two of you. Joel cleared his throat awkwardly, the sound startling you and causing you to fumble the plug, making it fall behind the couch. 

‘Sorry,” your voice was muffled as you reached your hand into the darkness, feeling around for the plug. A heat began to burn in your cheeks, spreading down to your chest, as you realized why Joel cleared his throat. You practically pinned him against the edge of the couch with your ass in his face.

You began to move faster, your fingers becoming tangled with the cord as you pushed it firmly into the plug. A small wheeze came from him as you straightened yourself, retreating a step back. 

“Sorry,” The words were now barely above a whisper. You raised your eyebrows, widening your eyes at him as you try to remain as neutral as possible. His eyebrows twitched as he finally brought himself to look up at you. You could have sworn his eyes glazed over the entirety of your body before eventually meeting your eyes. 

“Where’d you get these?” His voice was tight, guilty sounding as he changed the subject.

“Drew gets them when he goes into the cities outside of Jackson,” you responded, taking one step closer towards Joel, peering around his arm in the narrow space at the record he had been holding onto. “Most of them aren’t very good, but he picks up what he can find– I suppose it’s better than nothing.” 

He nodded very subtly, pinning his brows together as he flipped the record over, looking at the songs listed on the backside.

“And the player?” He questioned further. Joel must have heard the hitch in your breath with the look he gave you in return to which you turned on your heel, heading toward the couch sitting opposite from where Joel was.

“It was James’ father’s at one point,” You responded dryly, slightly cringing as you remembered how serious James was the night he brought it, making sure everyone– especially Drew– knew if it broke, there would be serious consequences. Joel said nothing in response, just going back to sifting through the various records.

The vibe completely changed from the time you left the bar to now–an odd sense of intimacy lingered heavily in the room. You needed a drink, just one to shake off this sudden awareness. 

Your eyes swept the room, landing on the old dented filing cabinet tucked next to the door. It was where the group kept all the alcohol each of you had been able to scrounge up as well as the collection of unmatching glasses that sat upon a tea cloth on the top. The filing cabinet was simply for safekeeping, you were desperately hoping that it hadn’t been emptied since the last time you were there. 

The broken handle was cold on your fingertips as you pulled on it. The drawer did not budge and you rolled your eyes, fully taking a seat on the ground so the top drawer was now eye level. You curse softly under your breath. Of course one of them would keep it locked up– probably Drew… greedy bastard, you thought.

You never noticed anyone locking it before, but then again, you had never paid that close attention–you didn’t need to. Running your fingers over the metal latches and then over the face of the lock, you pinned your eyebrows together. You’ve worked with this kind of lock many times before when you were still out on your own. They weren’t complicated locks, low security if anything due to them having a universal one-pronged key amongst this type.

Without any further thought, you pulled the small knife out of your pocket and flipped it open, ramming the tip into the keyhole. If you could just get it at the correct angle, it should just pop open. You didn’t care if the others knew someone had been in here. 

With a bit of jiggling, the shackle popped loose causing the corners of your lips to twitch slightly into a smile. Your eyes went wide as you opened the drawer–there was just as much, if not more than the last time you saw it. 

Rising back onto your feet, you look over your shoulder back at Joel who was still fully occupied by the record collection. His face was stuck in a deep sense of concentration.

Picking a bottle at random, you turned to face Joel shaking the bottle. The sound of the liquid sloshing against the sides and lapping over itself seemed to catch his attention as he snapped his head up, looking in your direction through his brows. 

“Want some?” you offered when he didn’t say anything, jutting the bottle out toward him. He narrowed his eyes, trying to look at the label– contemplating– before shaking his head and returning his attention back to the records. You simply shrugged before turning back around, flipping over one of the various drinking glasses on the top of the cabinet, and began to pour a generous amount. 

You kicked your feet at the concrete ground, dust and dirt dancing through the air, as you slowly made your way over to the other couch that sat across from the one Joel was currently settled on. Laying the entire length of your body sideways on the couch and resting your head on the padded armrest, you closed your eyes– just for a moment, you told yourself– holding your drink on your stomach with one hand and the other playing with the edge of one of the cushions where the stuffing began to leak out. 

When you opened your eyes, Joel was leaning over, placing one of the many records onto the platter of the player. Gently he let the needle fall onto the edge and pressed the button to turn it on. Music softly filled the room, the sound emitting from the speakers sounded muffled and scratchy, yet comforting and nostalgic. 

As Joel returned to his spot, leaning into the back cushion and widening his grin that didn’t quite reach his eyes, you caught his attention. Holding his gaze, you sat upright, downing the rest of your drink and resting the glass on the ground. 

“What?” He asked as you flashed him a toothy smile, your lips spreading thinly across your face as the corners reached your eyes and the second wave of alcohol hit your bloodstream.

–

The music began to flow through your veins, your body swaying without any coherent thought running through your mind. Spreading your arms out at your sides, you began to spin slowly and your body began to feel weightless; your surroundings and Joel blurring together with each turn. The air running over your skin made goosebumps dance up your arms and you let out a small giggle. You felt so free… so loose… so… happy. You felt like the person you had once been a long, long time ago.

Slowing your spin to a stop, you quickly became dizzy as you came to your senses, your brain struggling to comprehend that you were no longer going in circles. With the alcohol in your system, it made your body’s reaction twice as clumsy. Joel was watching you carefully, a small smile on his face, and appeared to be very amused by you. You began to tumble to the side, the opposite direction of any sort of furniture to stabilize yourself, as your feet tangled together. Joel lunged from his sitting position for you, looping one hand around your back, the other grasping onto your bicep.

“Woah,” The noise came out of you in a breathy whisper as the falling sensation subsided. Joel’s eyes were soft in the dim lighting of the room, the light reflecting off of his dark and ever-tired eyes. 

As he helped you back up to the stability of your feet, he kept hold of your shoulders. You could feel his fingers gently but firmly pressing into your skin making your heart skip a few beats. Through your still semi-blurred vision, you make eye contact with Joel, who is steadily holding onto your gaze. His face, complex as usual, leaves you completely in the dark about what might be running through his mind. The look in his eyes took you back to that night. 

You softly ran your hands up along his arm until you reached his biceps, hesitating to curl your fingers around them. Dropping your gaze from his, you run your fingers along his worn flannel, the fabric is soft under the tips. All you can focus on at the moment is the feeling of the fabric between your fingers and the warmth that radiates from underneath. Joel has yet to move a muscle since you returned his gesture, though you were almost positive you could hear the beating of his heart– deep and wild.

Slowly moving your eyes along his chest to the skin peaking out where the top few buttons were undone–his chest hair poking through– up along his neck and into his eyes. Something changed from a few moments prior, from early this evening. Your breath hitches as his throat bobs and his tongue darts between his lips.

As you began to part your lips, trying to find any words to say, Joel very slowly ran one of his hands up your back, finding a home at the base of your neck where skin meets hair. Very softly he ran his thumb over your hairline, over and over. He was looking at you, but it felt like his gaze had been deeper– deeper than whatever he saw on the surface. 

“I haven’t heard this song in a very long time,” His voice was quiet but hoarse, rattling low. You had to force yourself to swallow, your mouth and throat growing drier by the second.

Before you could muster up a response– even a reaction– Joel gently pulled your head into his chest. You didn’t protest, you would let him do whatever he wanted to you at this moment. His hand lingered at the base of your neck with your ear flush against his chest. Still, he softly ran his finger along your hairline causing a chill to make its way down your spine. Your heart felt as if it were beating outside of your chest and you noticed how deeply and fast Joel’s was beating in unison.

Joel took the lead as the two of you began to sway your bodies in unison, simply shifting your weight between each foot, very slowly turning in a circle. With your arms loosely wrapped around his torso, you began to run the fabric between your index finger and thumb again. This is the moment you’ve been craving since you were left on your own at the beginning of the outbreak– a sense of safety, a sense of companionship, anything other than the loneliness that rotted inside your heart for far too long– always too afraid to admit it, too afraid to get close to anyone for the next day is never promised. Sure, you caved into the intimacy of physical touch, but emotionally… you’ve never let yourself cave into that. But Joel… Joel was different. This was different. 

The longer the music went on, transitioning from one song to another, a calmness settled between the two of you, your bodies melting into one another becoming one. You hadn’t dared to move your head, afraid that he’d let go of you entirely if you moved even just a bit; afraid that this moment would end sooner than you desired.

As the record player sputtered to a stop, the music abruptly leaving the room empty and silent, you and Joel remained together, swaying back and forth. Joel’s heartbeat returned to a steady, comforting beat. He flattened his palms against your back as a way to tell you, don’t let go– not yet. So you didn't, you would remain in his arms until he was ready to let go. 

Without creating any distance between your bodies, you shift your head to look up at him, your chin firmly pressed against the bare part of his chest. He angled his head just right so he could look down at you. For a moment all you and Joel could do is stare at each other, as if the two of you haven’t stolen enough glances in the time you’ve known each other. Joel’s bottom lip was full of color and slightly swollen as if he had been chewing on it. You blinked a few times to bring yourself to the present moment.

“I missed you,” The words flowed out of you before you could think of what the consequences of admitting that would be. In the moment it felt right, you felt safe enough to admit that to him and you wanted him to know.

His face was set in stone, but a glimmer of something appeared in his eye and his shoulders appeared to relax as he slowly exhaled. It seemed like he didn't know what to say back. You didn’t care if he felt the same way if he missed you or even cared for you the way you do for him. All that mattered was that he knew someone had missed him, that his absence here mattered to you.

“You’re the only person who makes me feel sane,” You followed up in a whisper, returning the side of your face to his chest and tightening your arms around him. His heart rate picked up once again– deep and wild. 

read chapter sixteen here!

painting divider | credit: @cottage-writings

[vintake-ss]

𝐕𝐀𝐋𝐎𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐓 𝐗 𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐍

// basically the valorant agents as genshin characters... these are mainly based off vibes

I've had this in my head all day and it's been consuming me.

→m.list

Okay, so Jett's obviously an anemo sword user, duh(but they're dual daggers). She's the standard 5* that was meta early game but then fell off years later

Sage is litterly a geomancer. But she's that character whose design doesn't fit their element. Standard 5*, catalyst.

The ripple effects when you shoot at Astra's wall and just the overall visual of her kit screams hydro. Catalyst, 5* that's an S tier support

The 4* vibes radiating from Yoru are flabbergasting despite his ego. Cryo dps that requires the blood sacrifice of your entire lineage to be decent. Sword user

Dendro bow Skye cause it just feels right. 4* dps that's better than some 5*s

Using her dendro vision, Viper releases poisonous fumes using plants. Polearm. Is supposed to be a 5* bc of her status and lore but alas. Ningguang treatment fr

Unfortunately, Reyna is that 5* with a kit so bad they're basically a premium 3*. Electro polearm.

Gekko is the SS+ tier 4* support that has like a 91.6% spiral abyss usage. "𝘐𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘥𝘰𝘯'𝘵 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘨𝘦𝘬𝘬𝘰 𝘪𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘵𝘦𝘢𝘮, 𝘵𝘧 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘯 𝘥𝘰𝘪𝘯𝘨??" Dendro claymore

SS tier pyro catalyst 5* dps since release. You can pry the meta out of Raze's cold dead hands. Popular enough that even people who know nothing about the game recognize her.

Deadlock is the most forgotten character, but she's still a decent 4* for beginners. Cryo claymore.

Omen would be a 5* anemo catalyst with the sickest animations not him dying instead of his friends

Sword user cypher who had to be sent to the ER for singlehandedly carrying the geo meta. 5*

Fade would probably have the creepiest idle voice lines. 4* cryo catalyst.

Dearest father brimstone. Everyone looses their 50/50 to him at least once. Standard 5* geo claymore.

Our Pyro king Phoenix who happens to be the worst Pyro character. But at least he's got great humor and a loveable personality! Also pretty popular. Standard 5*, sword user

Breach is that character that will get you kicked from someone's world if you dare try to bring him into a domain. 4* Pyro claymore

4* Iso who should've been a 5* with how strong his shield is. Slap some def% and he's tanking 5 ruin guards and 3 abyss mages at the same time. Electro bow

Neon is definitely one of those niche characters. Not versatile in most team comps but will do big dmg if you get her the specific setup. 5* Electro catalyst

Clove was called trash even before they were released. Turned out to be the best 5* sub-dps. Will nuke your enemies if teamed up with astra. Hydro bow

Killjoy doesn't wield her claymore herself, she has tech to that for her. Electro 4*

Sova has a pretty easy kit to understand, he's also pretty easy to build. The kind of character you wouldn't mind loosing your 50/50 to. Standard 5*, cryo bow

You'd need a PhD from an ivy League university to understand chamber's kit though, so most people just end up skipping his banner. 5* hydro catalyst with the lowest player ownership lmao

4* that's being held captive in the basement, harbour gets to be on a banner once a year if lucky. Hydro claymore genshin could never.

KAY/O is that one character that, by all means, refuses to crit. Idk why. Anemo claymore.

[definesanity]

Ye Dead, Who Yet Live.

"For someone who sits so stiffly, your form is still impressive."

"If that is all it taketh to impress thee, I dare not imagine you see I with a Legendary Armament."

It was certainly cold in Snezhnaya. But compared to the Mountaintops of the Giants and the Consecrated Snowfield, it's moreso a playful chill upon your body.

Arlecchino, blessings upon her, had agreed to make sure your form hadn't deteriorated since your departure from the Lands Between.

"'Legendary Armament'?" they quoted back, x-shaped pupils almost rolling. "Forgive me not comprehending, but what makes those weapons 'Legendary'?"

You paused at that. "To speak freely, I also know not why some are deemed as such. However, from their abilities, I can ascertain why. For example: the Sword of Night and Flame."

Bringing forth the blade, you held it aloft, allowing Arlecchino to look at it.

"The blade itself is beautifully made. But what of its power?"

You held it in both hands. "Observe."

Bringing more strength into your arms, you bring the weapon up before sweeping in front of you, a sea of flame coming forth from it.

Then, as it calmed down, you held it in your right hand and brandished it with your left, allowing magic to gather, before bracing your left arm on your right, as a Night Comet shot forth from it, the beam similar to Comet Azur ending.

Turning to face a mildly impressed Arlecchino, you held it to her. "Care for a try?"

Slowly, she took it into her own hands. "It would be my pleasure."

-------------------

Strolling around the Grand Bazaar, you peered down at the list in front of you.

Your grip upon the language of Teyvat is growing, thankfully. So, with that in mind, you or course reached a roadblock.

'Hm...' looking around, you tried to spot help.

...

...A flash of red, gold and black came into view, and you found your help.

"Flame-Mane Dehya," you called, walking towards the famed merc. "Could I request your hand in a small matter?"

"Hm? Oh, hello, Your Grace." with practiced ease, Dehya smiled at you, waving. "Never thought it'd hear those words be spoken. Er, no offense."

"None taken. Moreover, ah." you paused. How to go about this?

"I."

"...'I'?"

"...Require help. In, ah, the ways of the Teyvatian lexicon." showing her note, she took it from your hands.

"...You... can't read?"

"Oh, no. I can read. Just... only the language of the Lands Between, I'm afraid to admit."

"Huh. That explains why you've never responded to the Akademiya, huh?" she joked, to which you nodded back. It was certainly regrettable. You'd like to see madness made manifest.

"...Can I speak freely, Your Grace?"

"Of course. Speak thine thoughts. Thou seemeth an entirely different person otherwise."

"Oh, good. Just wanted to say, was there a desert in the Lands Between? Just curious."

"A desert? No. At least, not one of snow. There was, however, one of rot."

"'Rot'?" Dehya passed the note back to you, which you pocketed.

"Indeed. It burns from the inside, and rots away your sense of self in addition to one's body. The Scarlet Rot... it claimed a dear friend of mine. Alas, what else can I do?"

Shrugging, you held out an open palm. "We art Tarnished. We, whom die," you close your palm. "And yet, whom also live. A constant cycle of life and death, all brought about by the death of he with golden hair."

"But, that is that. Before one forgets, what was upon mine list?"

"Oh, the list? It was for spices. I was actually looking for some for my lady as well. Want to look for them together?"

"It would be a pleasure. Provided, of course, we split the bill."

Dehya smiles at that. One, this time, that was genuine. "With you around? I'd be surprised if it wasn't on the house."

-------------------

Sitting down, you uncapped your flask and downed a good chunk of it, before bringing it back down.

"Sheesh, what do you have? A stomach, or a tankard." sitting down next to you with his own flask of sake, the Wanderer's omnipresent sneere was oddly comforting to you.

"Thou'rt one to jest... though, I suppose one is a being made of metal."

"Yep, that's me. Mister No-One. What about you, hm? You remember your name?"

You stopped drinking, and capped the flask. "Truthfully, nay. I recall not mine name, or of mine comrades. In our long march, all that mattered was if we could hold a weapon or not."

"Really? No one?"

"...Excluding, of course, Lord Godfrey. Of course, when we marched, he instead became Hoarah Loux, Warrior once more. He told us, 'a crown is warranted by strength'. When he fell by my hand, he said that, 'thy strength befits a crown'."

"Oooooh. Am I meant to feel bad?"

"No, you needn't. That was then. This is now."

The Wanderer fell silent at that, and instead drank from his sake once more.

After a moment, you uncapped your drink and downed the rest, before standing up.

"I appreciated our chat. But, I must go now."

"Of course, of course."

You started to walk away.

"Hey."

You turned around, and The Wanderer nodded.

"I... also appreciated it. Nice to have someone who isn't insane for once."

You nodded back.

"Aye. Likewise."

[u5an5]

Jacobs' Journal: Tape #2 - Encounter with an S.C.P.

<- Previous | Masterlist | Next ->

.

[START LOG]

Jacobs: (hyperventilating) Entry Two. Days Four... through Eleven. Site 19.

Jacobs: (gulp) <hatefully> I'm going to kill that man.

[cut]

Jacobs: (regulated breathing) Day Twelve. I just slept for... er... eleven hours straight. (sigh) I'll probably get more later, but I need to get this out now, or I may just go crazy.

Jacobs: ...

[Rest bellow the cut]

Jacobs: I made it clear from the offset that I would be reporting any and all shortcomings spotted within this facility to my superiors. I painted a target on my back, a fact I was all too familiar and aware of.

Jacobs: I didn't expect it to go down like this.

Jacobs: (inhale) Lambert assured me, in that smug way that someone who has something to hide conveys, that nothing I found would be worth sending to the Council. Not assured - insisted, in a vaguely threatening way.

Jacobs: I'd heard this before... but he took it way too far.

Jacobs: ...

Jacobs: I figured I'd start poking into the financials of this place, paper trails usually lead somewhere men like Lambert don't want others looking. It was a lot of the obvious: skimming the top of security funding and stashing it in various offshore accounts for his own personal use.

Jacobs: He was using it to fund two affairs he was having in other countries. Lambert was living large, sitting pretty on top of a pile of cash, actually making money off of The Foundation... unlike the rest of us.

Jacobs: Can't blame the guy for trying, but you'd think someone that cocky would have at least tried to hide the evidence a little better.

Jacobs: But that wasn't the scandal. It was all just a distraction. All these were reprimand-able, of course, but nothing that most superiors don't already abuse their positions for.

Jacobs: ... I was able to trace the money to these accounts, but the amounts didn't add up.

Jacobs: There was less money at the end of the trail than at the beginning. Lambert's gluttony wouldn't account for all that was missing. Someone else has been syphoning off Foundation funds, and they've been using Lambert as a middle man.

Jacobs: I can't prove any of this, of course. I wouldn't be here if I could. Something tells me, if I had found it by now, he would have killed me instead of... doing what he did. More troubling, is just who is he fronting the money for?

Jacobs: I went to bed that night embroiled in a mystery. I woke up in the antechamber of an SCP Recreation Chamber.

Jacobs: ...My clothes were gone, the door was locked. My demands to know what was happening went unanswered for a short while.

Jacobs: Hearing Lambert's voice over the intercom was by no means a comfort.I said I would only speak to the O5 Council for this behaviour, but he told me I had it backwards: "No one will speak to you but me. Any personnel who’d try, I've warned them, will suffer a worse fate than you."

Jacobs: What I thought was an elaborate eecution revealed itself to be an elaborate form of torture. Funnily, he doesn't consider torture a worse fate than death, indicating he's clearly never faced either.

Jacobs: (shaky inhale) They opened the adjoining cell door. I should have guessed it would be that... thing. "You better try to keep your eyes on that one, kid" he told me. "Don't wanna lose your head." Then he turned down the temperature and left.

Jacobs: My calls went unanswered, and I turned away for only a second before remembering that doing so was a matter of life and death. I quite literally held my fate in my hands. I knew he couldn't keep me there forever, but I only just sent in my weekly report the night before.

Jacobs: Nobody was expecting a word from me for a long time. The torture was routine: I starred at the statue for hours on end, and it didn't kill me. The cold was biting, I dared not move, and by the second day I was growing exhausted.

Jacobs: Cleaning personnel assigned to 173 were ordered to ignore me - address me as a D-Class - but the distraction offered me time to sleep for a few hours while they removed its defecation. I awoke to its feces hitting my face.

Jacobs: Security suggested I eat it before they left, to keep my strength up. I politely declined. ...My heart wouldn't stop beating. My eyes wanted nothing more than to close. I had to wink to keep them from drying out.

Jacobs: That third night, I almost considered giving in... then a voice said: "stand still." I didn't know who it was or why, but I was in too weary state to argue. I stayed standing, willing myself with every last ounce of strength I had left to keep every movement minute.

Jacobs: Finally, the door opened. I didn't look until they said I could. It was the night Watch guard, and with him he'd brought along some rations from the canteen and water. He Watched 173 while I ate, then as he left, told me I should get some rest.

Jacobs: I told him it was impossible,and while I was grateful, Lambert would surely kill the both of us. The guard just... chuckled and said: "Lambert never was much for spotting security feed loops."

Jacobs: He told me that he'd captured footage whilst I had remained unmoving and was playing it on a loop. He'd do so every night shift to ensure I had a proper rest, as well as food. We both knew the risks, but... he seemed adamant to give...

Jacobs: ...And I was all the more thankful for it. I think his name was... McCrimmon... something. That week was a blur, but I wouldn't be here without him. The fourth day was the easiest. During the day, I Watched 173. At night McCrimmon would’ve returned for the night shift and allowed me some reprieve.

Jacobs: We talked about food, about sailing, but when he asked me about my family or anything about me on the outside, I-I turned him down. Those are things I've learned to never drag into this place. They always have a nasty habit of being lost.

Jacobs: He talked a little about his, but he did it with such... confidence. He's a good ki-. Good person. Deserves better assignments than Watching me slowly die. I was nice... while it lasted. But then the fifth day arrived, and Lambert returned.

Jacobs: He was displeased with my progress, and when he reaffirmed his offer to me, I slung a pile of statue dung at the window behind me. Stupid, but it was worth it. He reduced temperature to near-freezing. I figured I could handle it, but then he started playing with the lightning controls.

Jacobs: 173 began inching its way closer to me. I backed myself up into a corner, blindly assessing a way around its path. All the while, Lambert kept calling out over the P.A. jeering at me. Then suddenly, the lights turned off. I was sure I was going to die.

Jacobs: But I waited, and waited... until the lights turned back on. 173 was still only half-way across the room. It stared at me as intently as I was Watching it. Lambert had been keeping his eye on the night-vision screens, which is why it didn't reach me and snap my neck.

Jacobs: He needed me alive, but he would take up what little time he could keep me confined, and make me suffer through it all. He changed the guard roster and enforced a no-contact, no-feeding ban on myself. Didn't stick around to see it, coward.

Jacobs: ...Forty-eight hours I stood there. Alone, Watching my life ebb away in the coarse reflection of 173's stone. as the metal chilled, it pinched and tore at my skin. I curled into a ball to keep my body temperature regulated, but maintained the eye-contact with the SCP, down on the floor.

Jacobs: I felt diminutive before it, that its presence was willing me to turn away and allow death to overcome me. I could swear I heard it whispering. What it said, I couldn't tell, but I know what It wanted me to do. Submit.

Jacobs: I barely felt it when they dragged me out of the room, and when they told me it had only been two days, I couldn't believe it. They dropped me before Lambert, and I stared up at him as I had done with 173. He had the smuggest smirk on his face.

Jacobs: "I think we understand each other now." he said, then threw my clothes at me. I dressed, and returned to my quarters, making sure no one saw me on the way out, only to find my room in tatters. Same for my office.

Jacobs: His cronies had searched them both, trying to find something to use against me. Aways separate your life from The Foundation.

Jacobs: ... (sigh) And they'll never find these recordings. They're too well hidden. If he thinks I'll submit to him, he's sorely mistaken. Destroying this man is my new mission in life. Everything else can wait: The Foundation, everything. I want Lambert's head on my wall. 

Jacobs: ...It'll be a long game, so let him rest easy thinking he's made me heel. I'll get everything I need in time, and then I'll tear down his world down and spit on what's left. That's a promise.

Jacobs: Class B Administrative Oversight Jacobs, signing off... but not for long.

[END LOG]

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[fluffyllamas-23]

from the cozy asks: 16, 17, and. obviously. 27 lmao. for whichever girls you'd like! :)

Thank you SO much for these!! I'm sorry they took me forever and a day to get to, but I hope you like them. I went with Arwen and Marcia (Arwen is an emergency vet, and Marcia is an orthopedic veterinary specialist), and Saoirse and Jasmine (Saoirse is a high school English teacher, and jasmine is an ER doctor).

16) How light of a sleeper is your OC? 

Arwen: Arwen is a pretty light sleeper, though she trained herself to do that because of the nature of her job. Naturally, she’s a pretty deep sleeper and it’s her instinct to snooze her alarm dozens of times before actually getting out of bed. Now she’s trained herself to get up and hop in a cold shower to shock herself awake as soon as she hears that first alarm, or after she answers a call to come into work in the middle of the night Marcia: Marcia is a light sleeper and always has been. As soon as that first alarm goes off, or her phone goes off with a call to come into work, she’s awake. She’s often awake even before her alarm goes off; if she ever sleeps through it, something is wrong.  

Saoirse: Saoirse is a pretty deep sleeper. It’s really hard for her to wake up early, so she has a few different alarms set to ensure she’ll wake up on time for work. Her smartwatch has an alarm that buzzes, she has a couple on her phone at different times, and she even has one of those alarm clocks that simulate the sun rising. If Jasmine is home, she’s usually up before any of Saoirse’s alarms go off, and will check on her to make sure she’s up on time for work. Saoirse always feels kind of silly needing so much help waking up in the mornings but she’s just such a deep sleeper, waking up is hard.

Jasmine: Jasmine is a really light sleeper. She’s often on call and is used to needing to be awake and alert in an instant. On the flip side, if she’s woken up but doesn’t need to be awake, she can go back to sleep pretty quickly. 

17) Can they fall asleep anywhere? Or do they need an optimum condition to sleep in? 

Arwen: Arwen can and will fall asleep anywhere. She has been known to fall asleep in kind of weird places when she’s really exhausted and Marcia always thinks it’s so cute. She thinks it’s especially cute when she wakes her up and Arwen gets a really cute, sleepy, disoriented look on her face and rubs her eyes and goes “oops, sorry”. 

Marcia: Marcia is definitely a “needs optimum conditions to fall asleep” kind of person. She’s pretty light sensitive, so she needs complete darkness (and a cool room) to fall asleep. She’s not as sound sensitive, but if there’s any out of the ordinary sounds happening (an alarm clock, a loud crashing sound, that kind of thing), it’ll wake her up. Light really is the main concern, though. If there’s light, her brain is AWAKE, and unless it’s super early in the morning (before 4 am), she won’t be able to go back to sleep. She’ll often slip out of bed in those instances and go chill on the couch while she has her coffee/tea and reads on her phone or scrolls through tiktok. 

Saoirse: Saoirse is a bit of a combination. She has a hard time falling asleep, so she usually needs more optimum conditions to get there (dark, quiet, cool room), but then once she’s asleep, she’s asleep. 

Jasmine: Jasmine has mastered the art of falling asleep when she can, no matter where she is. Oftentimes when she’s working, she’s only able to grab a quick nap here and there in an on-call room. 

27) Does your OC get any winter illnesses? If so, how badly do they get ill?

Arwen: Arwen gets at least one cold every winter, and gets the flu every few years. The colds are never too horrible, though some years she manages to catch a truly awful one, and the flu is always miserable and always knocks her out. 

Marcia: Marcia gets a cold or two every winter, and without fail, one always turns into a sinus infection. Some years it’s not too bad and she can manage at home without needing medical attention, but then other years it drags, and she ends up needing antibiotics. She is, unfortunately, not super prone to the flu and has only had it a very small handful of times up until this point. 

Saoirse: Saoirse is…a bit of a mess in the winter tbh. Between working in a school and being married to an ER doctor, she gets hit kind of hard. She catches a lot of minor but annoying colds which she can usually medicate herself through, but then she also ends up with the flu most years, and if she’s super unlucky, the stomach flu as well. Jasmine: Jasmine works in an ER and her immune system has been forged through fire at this point lol. She’s usually pretty good at getting through winter mostly unscathed, minus a pretty minor cold or two and sometimes the flu during a really rough flu season.

[etherbonded]

self-indulgent drabble time

GENERAL CONTENT: Familial Trauma and Issues ( i don't know how to exactly tag it beyond that but just know to proceed with caution bc this is definitely not a light drabble in the slightest. )

" I miss when you ere a child and when you still loved me. " Are the words Homura, her mother, utters that causes Himari to finally crack after years. She hadn't talked to her mother in so long, she thought things could change but... of course she was wrong. Her mother is still blind.

" What child? From what I remember I was practically raising and taking care of myself when I was 7. I was the one always making sure you were okay after that man yelled and verbally berated you. I always took care of you and put myself aside. " It's curt, and Himari knows how sour this conversation is going to go now. For she knows how this story ends, because she's gone through this far too many times.

" Himari I did the best I could to raise you, I was always there for you. I don't know why- "

" You don't know why? Why I don't love you anymore? Why I cut you out of my life? That's a simple answer Homura. I don't love you anymore because you never loved me like I deserved to be. You were willing to throw me out the moment you found out I made such a similar mistake to YOURS until you found out I was going to marry the father. No mother that loves their kid would put them through or even think to put them through the same pain you went through! A MOTHER THAT LOVES HER CHILD DOES NOT MAKE HER CHILD BELIEVE THAT SHE NEEDS TO USE HER LOOKS TO GET LOVE! " Himari's far from done but her mother is just about to get started too.

" It's not MY fault you weren't smart enough to realize to not make the same mistakes I did! And it's not my fault that all people ever truly want out of a person they love is their body and their looks! True love is a bunch of bullshit Himari, it's fairytale shit I never taught you because you needed to realize how the world worked before it hurt you! But it's clear I failed you there. I was simply ready to show you there are consequences for your mistakes! God, you're SO dramatic, I can't believe you're the daughter I gave birth to. I thought you'd at least have a good head on your shoulders. " Homura is full of pain and bitterness... after everything she's done... this is how she's repaid by her daughter? For toughening her daughter up for the world? " You're doing just fine in life with everything you 'claim' I've done. I've made you tougher, I taught you how to survive. "

That's it, that's what makes Himari crack underneath it all. " You think I'm doing fine? Just because I'm tougher and can handle it I'm FINE? You don't know SHIT about me Homura. I may seem fine on the outside but I'm far from. I'm better, but I will never heal from the bullshit you and him put me through. You may have taught me how to survive, sure, I'll give you that much. " Himari's not going to take this shit, she's tired of this. She can't deal with this anymore so she stands up and proceeds to head to the door. Only to hear the words,

" DONT YOU DARE WALK AWAY FROM YOUR MOTHER! "

As her fingers grasp on the door handle, she turns her head over her shoulder with a laugh and a cold smile towards her mother. "I have no mother. "

[xxgoblin-dumplingxx]

Another part to neighbour!jason? Is reader back from the sentencing yet?

Jason double-checked the clock and stirred the pot on the stove. If traffic cooperated, you'd be back any time. And he wanted you to not have to worry about dinner. Or be alone. Unless you wanted to be- but even then, he didn't want to be very far away.

When the door opened and he saw the duffel bag, thrown with more force than he thought you were capable of into the end of the sofa, and then the absolutely heart-wrenching sound of a shaking breath that sounded like a sob and a muffled scream, he felt sick.

"Come-ere, kid," he said softly, pulling you against his chest. "S'okay." He held you there for a second, cradling the back of your head and keeping pressure until you hugged him back. The weight of all the pain, and grief that hadn't hit until now. The stress. The anxiety. The guilt. All the things that had been pressing on you. Squatting in the center of your chest like a toad roiled to the surface.

He'd seen people break. He'd broken people. But it had never shaken him like this. Every ragged breath cut like a saw. Before now, he'd seen glimpses of it and seen how hard you tried to hide it. The way you divorced yourself from any emotion because one more is just too much. The way you hid behind a sweet smile and a quick joke.

"I'm here," he said softly. "I'm right here. You're okay, kid."

When your knees won't hold you, he just picks you up. Sitting you on his lap and rocking you gently. The dam is broken and there's no stopping the flood, so he doesn't try. All he can do is let you cry yourself out on his shoulder. "Will you be okay for a minute?" he asked, "Gonna go get some water. And make sure dinner's not burning."

"I'm sorry," you stutter, starting to get up.

"Hey," he said softly, "no. Don't be sorry, 'kay? I knew you were gonna be in for a hard couple days. Just wanted to make sure you didn't come home to a cold apartment and no food in your fridge." He shifted you over gently and knelt in front of you. Noting the trembling and the dark shadows under your eyes. You need food and you need sleep but he isn't sure you can do either thing.

He squeezed your hands in his, frowning at how cold they are and reaches up to brush hair out of your face. Out of the mess of tears and snot, "Gonna get a washcloth too, okay? Just sit tight for a second." And before you can protest, he's on his feet. Going to get the things he needed and starting the kettle. If you couldn't eat, at least some hot tea would warm your stomach up a little- and maybe help you sleep.

When he comes back to find you staring blankly into the middle distance, looking wrung out, he knelt again, carefully cleaning your face off. "There you are," he hummed, gratified when you focus just a little for him. "Tea-"

"Jay?" Your voice is small. So small and confused it stops him short.

"What's up, kid?"

"Please don't go."

"I'm not going anywhere," he soothed, " 'Kay?" He cradled your face in his hand, smoothing his thumb across your cheek tenderly. "You're safe, baby. I'm gonna be right here." And when that seems to help, when you nod and lean into the touch, he exhales slowly.

If the conviction didn't stick, Jason would be more than happy to kill your brother himself- he might do it just to save you the pain of all the appeals. Anything so he never had to hear you cry like that again.