#don't think for a second that i will ever be normal about hozier

[tenderphilosophia]

i would still be surprised i could find you, darlin' in any life if I could hold you for a minute??? SOMEONE HOLD ME WHILE I BREAK DOWN INTO THE DIRT

[missmeinyourbones]

DRANK DRY THE RIVER LETHE

"These days I think I owe my life

To flowers that were left here by my mother,

Ain't that like them, gifting life to you again?

- First Time, Hozier

a/n: trying baby daddy touya, brief mentions of pregnancy, reader is exhausted and dealing w some parental impostor syndrome, reader and baby are referred to as touya's girls

Touya comes home to a crying baby, something that has slowly become the new norm for him.

The fall breeze is uncomfortably chilly now that the sun has long gone down, and he can hear the familiar shrieks and hiccups before he's able to unlock and open the apartment door.

You don't hear him enter over the whines of the baby you cradle and caress in your hold. Touya's met with the back of your head and the sound of your desperate coos as he kicks off his shoes and shrugs off his jacket, making his way over to his girls. His family.

"Hey," he makes it a point to speak before letting his hand come to rest on your lower back. You'd think he'd have mastered how jumpy you are after all this time, but you flinch all the same at the sound of his voice.

He lets the warmth of his touch press up against your skin in an attempt to comfort you, but the second he's able to catch your eye, he knows it'll require a lot more than that to soothe your worries.

From your gaze alone, he can sense your panic almost immediately.

"She won't stop crying," is the first thing you say to him.

It comes out rushed and nervous, like you've been waiting for him to return home for hours. You have been, he knows to be true even though you don't say it.

He winces a bit as he takes in your appearance. You look smaller than he's ever remembered, and perhaps there's a truth to that old saying about not noticing something as it happens right before you, until it's already too late.

Your eyes are dark with exhaustion, his t-shirt swallowing you whole is covered with what he knows to be stains of vomit and spit-up. Your body doesn't stop moving, heels don't stop bouncing softly back and forth as you attempt to soothe your daughter in any way possible.

He doesn't ask how long you've been at this.

The haste returns when you continue, "She's not hungry, I've changed her three times, her temperature is normal, and I hate that I even checked her temperature more than once because she fucking hates it and--"

A calloused palm finds your head, gently brushing the tousled hair behind your ear and trying to rub the tension from behind your neck.

"Hey, hey. Easy."

He tries to console you. His tone is a bit cautious, like he's trying to slowly approach a wild and contaminated animal, but it comforts you all the same.

His heart hurts as he watches you take a shaky inhale, holding it for a brief moment before exhaling it just as uneasily. You're drained.

If this was three months ago, he'd instantly grab your wrist--force you to lay on top of him in bed until you inevitably pass out and succumb to your own exhaustion.

But things are different now, and he's not just in charge of you anymore. He has two girls to take care of, one being a lot more helpless than the other who needs him just as badly right now.

"I don't know what I'm doing wrong," you weakly admit through the tears that sit heavy in the back of your throat.

Nothing, Touya wants to say. He doesn't even think you're capable of doing something that isn't right, but he's self-aware enough to bite his tongue and focus on the task at hand.

His eyes fall to where the bundle of baby still shrieks and sobs against your arms. He slowly reaches to rub a soft finger against her puffy cheek before sighing to himself.

"Don't babies cry for no reason sometimes?" he mumbles.

"She doesn't cry like this for you."

He knows it's the fatigue behind your bite, so he chooses to ignore the harsh comparison.

"Yeah, she does, baby," he calmly breathes. "You're just tired."

Wordlessly, he motions for you to hand your daughter to him, and the pass happens naturally for all three of you. She leaves your arms and enters his without so much of a struggle. And you can't shake the failure that weighs heavy on your shoulders as you watch him gently bounce the baby on his hip, her cries almost immediately softening by being in his mere presence.

It takes all of thirty seconds before she's practically silent, resting on his chest and babbling herself into a calm drowsiness. His hand cradles the back of her head gently, mimicking how it did yours mere moments ago.

The scene before you is all you've ever wanted, and it's finally yours. And you absolutely hate that you feel a sob of exhaustion wrack through your chest, ruining a moment you never thought you'd have.

Touya watches you shrink before him, your eyes on the peaceful scene before you as you choke out a teary, "She hates me."

"Bullshit, c'mere."

He readjusts your baby so she's comfortably supported with one arm, using the other to snake around your shoulders and pull you in with them. You feel his hand flat against your sore back, rubbing gentle circles and pressing you into his warmth.

The three of you stand huddled together, all clinging onto one another in one way or the other. The baby in Touya's hold rests her sock-covered foot on the flat of your arm. You lean into Touya's chest, head right next to your daughter's as he whispers sweet reassurances. You don't need to ask to know they're meant for the both of you.

After a few minutes, Touya pulls away a bit, but only to use both hands to place the baby back in her crib. The transition is easy and she's out cold as she sinks into the tiny mattress pad and sprawls out.

The two of you lean on one another, hovering over the wood to watch her sleep. Her eyelids flicker with movement, her chubby fingers squeezing around nothing every now and then.

Eventually, Touya tiredly whispers into your hair, “I learned all this from you, y'know."

Sniffling with heavy eyes and a confused pout, you weakly turn your head up to look at him in confusion.

Assuming he's talking about parenthood, his words don't make any sense in your fatigued and spiraling mind.

You learned together. He was there in the hospital when the midwives walked you through swaddling and latching and burping. When you'd discovered that your daughter preferred to eat after napping because nursing before made her sick. Watching online tutorials on which bassinet is safest for newborns---Touya was there, for all of it. He didn't learn anything about this from you.

But when he looks down into your watery eyes, through the dark of the nursery and against the shallow breaths of your sleeping daughter, you realize he's not talking about that.

His voice is a mere whisper when he confesses, “Like, how to love her right.”

Sniffling and swollen, you open your mouth to protest, but no words come out. Utterly speechless, you just stare at him a bit dumbly.

Touya fights off a smirk at your uncharacteristic silence, directing his attention back to the sleeping baby once more.

"Wouldn't know how to do this if it wasn't for you, letting me learn how to love you," he admits.

He reaches down into the crib to where she sleeps on her back, arms spread out and upward like she's stretching her tiny limbs. He takes the tips off his fingers and gently rubs her onesie-covered tummy.

“So, when she feels it from me," he whispers, not taking his eyes off of the annoyingly perfect baby before him, "it’s really just an extension of you.”

A moment of silence passes. In the heaviness of the moment, he almost thinks you didn't hear him. But he's proven wrong--something he's learned is often the case with you--when he turns his head to where you wait. Touya sees your eyes and cheeks glistening with newly shed tears, no longer the dried ones from your weariness and anxiety, gleaming up back at him.

He can't help but shake his head and laugh at the soft sight before him, withdrawing his hand from the baby's tummy and wrapping it around your shoulder.

He ushers your head into his chest, muttering a loving, “Alright crybaby, c'mon.”

He lets you sniffle and close your eyes against the cheap cotton of his shirt, letting his own eyes shut and resting his chin atop your head.

Slowly, but all the same, you feel that gentle sting of guilt eventually fade from your lungs with each gentle exhale. With heavy eyes and bad posture, you ground yourself through the senses around you. Touya's skin against yours, the sounds of gentle sighs and sniffles. The baby, the one that you had together, safe in her crib with the sole responsibility of innocently existing.

You don't want to ever forget this, or maybe you do. Half of you wishes you could forget it, just to receive the blessing of experiencing it for the first time all over again.

“Also use my quirk sometimes,” you think you hear muffled into the crown of your skull.

You open your puffy eyes to look up at him, confused.

"What?"

You watch Touya smugly shrug as he brushes the stray and sticky hairs from your clammy forehead. A sly blush creeps up his neck and jaw when he fights off a smile.

"Warm my hand up and put it on her stomach," he admits casually, caressing your soggy cheek, "shuts her right up."

You laugh, wet and pathetic and absolutely enamored by him, "That's cheating, you asshole."

You don't blame her, you think, considering the countless times you've requested the same thing from him. From period cramps to pregnancy pain to just wanting to feel him--maybe it's genetic, having your DNA and craving his warmth simultaneously.

You decide that Touya must be thinking the same thing, because he simply chuckles with you, rubbing your back as you feel the familiar heat of his fingers begin to tingle.

"Yeah, yeah," he kisses your head, "wonder where she learned that from."

[wlntrsldler]

If the boys played “never have I ever” in an interview, what would be revealed to the public?

I SPRINTED TO MY COMPUTER

here's the transcript of poisoned mercury's buzzfeed interview where they played never have i ever as part of their press tour to promote their new album:

interviewer: thank you guys for coming!

luke *smiling while he fixes his mic*: thanks for having us :) we were just talking about how we used to do buzzfeed quizzes when we were younger.

travis: there were many days where we'd be in luke's house back in connecticut and completely forget that we were supposed to be rehearsing because we got caught up trying to figure out which inside out emotion we were.

interviewer: well, i'm glad to hear it because today we're gonna play a game of 'never have i ever.'

chris: unrelated but i fucking love that show. team paxton for life.

luke: dude no. ben is clearly the right choice.

connor: ok mr. enemies to lovers, of course you'd say that.

luke: shut up???!

travis: i think if we took the inside out quiz again right now, i'd get disgust because that's how i feel being in a band with two idiots who are so in love with their girlfriends.

connor: swear to god if i hear another "no you hang up first," from either one of you *looks at chris and luke* i'm blowing my brains out.

interviewer looks around the room, trying to ask the producers what she should do. the video editors are already stressing because they know they have to bleep out a lot of the words the boys are using.

interviewer: .... so let's start with the first question. never have i ever gone skinny dipping.

chris: fuck, how did you get all of us on the first question?

connor: yeah we've gone skinny dipping a few times, but the most recent was last summer. mama c-- shoutout mama c, we love you!

luke: yeah, we love you mama!

connor: she put all of us on timeout and we spent the entire summer at a music camp and on our last night, we all went skinny dipping at the lake with our roommates.

luke: oh shit, i forgot about that. those were good times. *looks at chris* i miss camp bro.

chris: me too.

travis *stares deadpan into the camera*: do you see what we have to deal with?

interviewer: never have i ever had a crush on a friend's sibling.

travis: guilty.

chris *turns his head so fast*: given that you're related to connor and luke is an only child, you better be talking about a non-band friend.

travis *shrugging*: your older sister is hot, rodriguez.

chris: stay away from my sister.

luke *looks at the interviewer with wide eyes*: next question or you'll have a video to submit to worldstar.

interviewer: oh! uh, okay-- never have i ever accidentally posted something to my main account instead of my private or close friends one.

connor *cracking up*: castellan, wanna take this one?

luke *blushing*: this feels like a targeted question because we know the infamous video of me with the handsome squidward filter on (the hozier incident) that was supposed to go on my close friends story! i was so embarrassed. to be clear, i was JOKING. i don't actually flirt like that.

travis: i've seen you flirt with y/n, and you in the squidward video had more game than you normally do.

luke *teasing because he knows travis does not want a relationship*: and yet who's single between the two of us?

connor: oh he got you there.

travis: y/n, if you're watching this, you deserve better. he's a loser. i have better friends i can set you up with.

luke: five star, if you're watching this, you're stuck with me. there's no going back.

interviewer: never have i ever had a song written about me.

chris: this is a great pivot to promote our sophomore album's lead single, "kiss her you fool!" we wrote this song about our front man, luke, here. our second album "optimism don't come easy (unless it's with you)" is out now.

interviewer: i love that shameless self-promo.

connor: i think we as a band can benefit from having some shame, but thank you.

chris *turns to luke*: this will also come as a shock to you, but there's another song out in the world that's kinda about you.

luke: huh? which one?

travis: quinnie, remember her? she was in cabin 7. she wrote the bulk of it, but y/n actually gave her the idea. chris and connor helped her with instrumentals and the song is sick.

connor: it was amazing. quinnie is so talented. if you guys haven't heard her music, i highly, highly recommend it. the song we're talking about is called touch tank. you guys should check it out.

chris: agreed. she's also just a fucking cool person. she's one of our closest friends in the industry.

travis *making a heart with his hands*: we love you, quinnie!

interviewer: okay, final question since we're running out of time. never have i ever gone on a world tour for my band's second album.

luke *laughs*: i see what you did there. that was good.

connor: we are soooooo excited to announce that we're going back on tour! this summer, we'll be seeing all your beautiful faces again. tickets go on sale this friday! we hope to see you there!

luke: check out our band's twitter for more information on how to get tickets and to see if we'll be coming to a city near you.

chris: we miss seeing you guys!

travis: see you guys so soon! we love you!

interviewer: that's all the time we have for today. thank you guys so much. it was a pleasure!

[letsgetrowdy43]

Honey’s Tattoo Tour—

Au Masterlist!!

I was thinking a little bit about Honey, and I was like imagine how sick it would be if she just had all these cute tattoos littered all over her skin!!

So here’s a little tattoo tour for her!!

For the most part, her tattoos all have important meanings to her, it started as just a little fun and cute thing, but the more she worked with artists in the Vancouver area the more she realized the sort of art behind it!!

A little added piece of information is that Quinn normally has a strong dislike for tattoos, but the look of Honey with tattoos has his knees weak! They are all just so pretty, and a little sexy, that he has no choice but to love them, plus some of them hold such importance in their relationship and he just adores them!

Her first ever tattoo was the lyric “Honey, there is no right way” from Hozier's song ‘Someone New’ that she got in her senior year of high school on the inside of her right arm just a few days before she graduated. The song is a reflection on the complexity of love and the human desire for connection, which at the time was something Honey was just out of reach of. It highlights the need to find a love that brings meaning to one's life and at this specific time in her life, she deeply resonated with wanting to find that one.

She didn't get her second tattoo until her final year of university, during a break with Quinn. The tattoo is a black and white depiction of Sir John Millais' "Ophelia." Being the angst teenager she was, she felt a deep connection with the character Ophelia from William Shakespeare's play "Hamlet". Ophelia's emotional vulnerability and her descent into madness felt very personal to Honey when she was at the ripe age of 16 (dramatic as shit... but she is so me), the character embodies the fear of losing oneself in the face of overwhelming emotions such as love and anger all the while dealing with external pressures. It was definitely an ode to her younger self but also resonated with the 20-year-old version of herself who was trying to navigate the break with the love of her life. aren't we all just a deeply disturbed teenage girl at heart :)  

Her third tattoo happened a few weeks into the summer of 2021, just after her University graduation. She had just gotten back together with Quinn and moved her entire life to Canada to be with him, and now she was beginning to build her media marketing portfolio by taking some shots for a tattoo and piercing shop in downtown Vancouver. The artist she had been doing shoots with and helping to manage their websites offered to do a tattoo for her at a discounted price if she ever wanted. She ended up getting leaves on her hip bones, it was her first really impulsive tattoo and one of the most painful, but she was obsessed with the outcome. They don't hold any significant meaning to her, but they really boosted her confidence and Quinn was absolutely obsessed with them when she surprised him with them, so she really loves them.

Her fourth tattoo was the big piece on her back, she reached out to an artist who specializes in floral and colour tattoos and commissioned a piece that was in homage to paintings her mother made when she was a child. Her mother used to paint these intricate floral pieces to hang up around the house, and eventually, every extended family member in her family had a signature piece in their home. Honey was gifted the one that hung in her grandmother's lake house just after she passed, and she hung it up in hers and Quinn's room at the Michigan Lake house. She got it tattooed on her back a year later (around Warren's first birthday) so she could always have a piece of her grandma and her mother at her at all times!

Her fifth tattoo was one she got during All-Star week a few years after both Hayden and Warren were born. It was the first time they were kid-free in a long while, and while he and the other all-stars were doing media for Bauer and other league activities, the girls went out for the day. One of the other wives suggested getting tattoos. Initially, she got a simple "43" on her sternum, following the trend of other wives and girlfriends getting their partner's numbers. However, she ended up really liking the artist's line work and asked if she could get a full piece done before flying back to Vancouver. The artist had availability the next day and managed to fit Honey into her schedule before the skills competition. She ended up getting a lunar moth just beneath the "43," starting on her sternum and dipping down to span her abdomen. The tattoo was an homage to their first summer as a married couple, a summer where everywhere they seemed to go lunar moths followed them. Quinn finds it incredibly sexy, thinking it makes her boobs look even more perfect (which he didn't know was humanly possible), and he couldn't stop kissing it once it healed.

Her final tattoo was one she got when Maeve was around 3, Hayden was 8, and Warren was 10. It was a collaborative piece by all her kids: Maeve drew the basic shapes of the flowers, Hayden added the details, and Warren contributed the fine lines. This tattoo is a little piece of her babies and their childhood, etched onto her forever. It's probably her favourite piece because it means the most to her.

-

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[criticallyacclaimedstranger]

All The Fear and The Fire of The End of The World [Joel Miller x artist!reader]

Read on Ao3

Sequel to The Artist and the Builder

Fandom: The Last of Us

Ship: Joel Miller x you/artist!reader who is his age and has arthritis and allergies (although that's not really addressed in this one)

Tags/warnings: ANGST, bit of h/c, Panic attacks, reader is sick, Joel has anxiety. That's about it, but please stay safe is panic attacks is something that triggers you <3

Summary: Joel has told Ellie about what happened in Salt Lake City, and she is livid with him. Seeking comfort with you, Joel however finds you in the grips of a nasty flu, and has to put his own needs aside to nurse you.

Words: 3,799

A/N: Title is from Hozier's Wasteland, Baby! Couldn't resist: All the fear and the fire of the end of the world, happens each time a boy falls in love with a girl...

Thank you to @pazizz for having a read before it was finished!

Joel hasn't had an attack like this in a long time - not since he and Ellie settled in Jackson - but now, it's bad.

His heart is being squeezed like a stress ball, his lungs are not taking in fresh air, his throat is constricted. Panic floods his brain as he clutches at his collar. He can't breathe, can't think, can't -

Ellie's screamed words echo in the fiber of his being.

How could you? I hate you! Don't talk to me ever again!

He had finally told her the truth about what had happened at the hospital, why she didn't get to save the world. And Ellie shut him out.

You took my decision away from me!

How could she even consider dying for a cure that wasn't guaranteed? How could she not see that she was the light of his entire life?

How could he not tell her the truth from the start?

Joel stumbles onto one knee, the guilt taking his legs from under him. He fights to breathe, his right fist closes, and he bangs it into the floor. Again. Again. Pain reverberates through his hand and arm, and that jerks him out of his mental anguish.

He punches the floor until the skin of his knuckles break, and he can breathe normally again. Greedily gulping down air in a way that sounds like sobbing - but he is not fucking crying - Joel slowly gets back onto his feet. His knuckles are aching, his arm feels battered, but he grabs his coat, and heads out. Hurrying through the snowy streets of Jackson, he barely notices anyone passing by. He's in a hurry, hurting hand hidden in his jacket pocket, internal compass pointing to your house.

He needs comfort, your soothing hands. He needs to know that he did what he could.

Even if it was you who pushed him into telling Ellie, he knows you were right to encourage him to do it. And he needs you now that Ellie has denounced him. You won't judge him for waiting so long.

He walks into your house without knocking. His throat feels almost constricted when he enters the living-room, expecting to find you in front of the fireplace, immersed in one of your projects. But you're not there, and the fire is nothing but a heap of embers. Frowning, Joel calls your name again. It's not like you to leave the fire unattended or leave on the lights. He walks over to the bedroom door and pushes it open.

There's a pile of blankets on the bed. When his eyes get used to the twilight in the room, he sees that there's a body underneath the layers of covers.

He speaks your name, and the pile of blankets moves. For a second his heart seizes, and panic rises within him. Not you too, he can't stand it!

Then you croak his name, and he knows what's up.

You're so cold. You've never been this cold in your life, and no amount of blankets is helping. Good God, how is it even possible to be so cold, to shake so hard? Your muscles are aching with how much you're shaking, and you can't do anything about it.

You hear Joel's voice close to you, and you will your eyes open, even if using your vision is making your headache worse.

Joel's face swims somewhere above you. Through the brain fog, you hear him ask you how you are.

"Just a slight temperature," you mumble, then feel Joel's callused hand on your forehead.

"You're burning up."

He takes off his jacket, and gets in bed with you, digging himself underneath the blankets until he's right next to you. Fitting his form to yours, he wraps his arm around you to bring you in even closer.

"You're shaking!"

"Jus' need a nap..."

"You need a lot more than that, darlin'."

You mumble something as your eyes fall shut. His body heat has already started to spill onto you, and slowly, you stop shaking, and start relaxing.

"How long have you been like this?" His voice is soft, his breath so warm against your skin. You want to crawl into his voice, melt into the rich, deep syllables, dissolve from this aching body.

"Had to leave the clinic around midday," you slur. Speaking seems difficult. Your throat is sore, your head feels like it's about to explode.

"Are there any meds?"

"No."

"Then it's rest and liquids for you."

You're already drifting off, secure in his arms. Joel feels you relax and become heavy, your audible breathing slowing down. Gently, he strokes a couple of stray hairs from your face, tucking them behind your ear, and notes that your hairline is damp with sweat. When he's certain that you're not waking up, he carefully disentangles himself from you, and gets up from the bed.

His own heartache is forgotten when he rummages through the cupboards of your kitchen, finding your teas made from dried herbs and flowers. He gathers towels, finds a bucket for water, gathers whatever he can find that will help him take care of you. He returns to the bedroom to check on you before leaving your house to get something to eat from the dining-hall, and see Jackson's doctor.

The doc has, naturally, nothing to prescribe except bedrest and liquid, which Joel had already figured out. What little drugs there are, must be saved for the truly sick. He's luckier at the dining-hall: he gets a big portion of chicken broth from one of the women working there.

"This will cure anything," she promises, and Joel thanks her gruffly. He hurries home to you, finding you exactly where he left you.

You sleep for hours. Focusing his attention on you, wiping your forehead whenever it gets too shiny, listening to your wheezing breaths, Joel forgets about the pressure over his own chest. He can't forget about Ellie, her anger, her words, but he doesn't succumb to anxiety over what happened.

When you wake up, the things Ellie said are pushed to the back of his brain.

You're like a cat waking up from anesthesia: unable to walk but hell-bent on doing it.

"Need the toilet," you mumble, and Joel supports you to the bathroom. You're freezing once you slump down on the toilet seat, and he turns around to give you some privacy.

"Go away," you moan, bent over with you aching head in your hands.

"I've seen women piss before, so do what you have to so that I can help you back to bed," he retorts, and you scoff weakly before releasing a stream of urine that seems searing hot. You manage to wipe yourself and wash your hands before you have to lean on Joel again.

"We need to get you out of these sweaty clothes," he tells you, but you're loath to get undressed.

"It's so cold," you whine, but you're in no position to fight him on it.

He puts his own flannel on you before taking you back to bed, where he coaxes two spoonfuls of broth into you, and almost half a cup of tea, until you shake your head. He gives up, and lets you curl up to sleep. The winter darkness is falling but he turns on the bedside lamp so that he can see your face, its lines stressed by the lamplight and sickness, your forehead shiny with fever, your lips separated as you snore. For a long time, he just watches you, like he's looking for an answer in your features.

Eventually, he turns off the light, rises from his chair, and leaves the bedroom to start a fire in the living-room fireplace.

Your temperature is up the next day so Joel brings the doc, who can't do anything except encourage him to continue doing what he's been doing so far. You're mostly asleep, delirious when you're not, and still so, so cold. Joel does his best to get fluids in you, and a couple of spoonfuls of chicken soup, but it's hard when you're either limp in his arms or shaking.

By afternoon, he's exhausted. Tommy comes by to check on both him and you, and he brings food. Joel never even thought about eating himself.

Sitting on opposite sides of the kitchen table, Joel opens the lunch box and devours its contents.

"I saw Ellie earlier today. She seemed upset, what's up with her?" Tommy wants to know. Joel winces from the painful stab in his heart.

"Nothing's up with Ellie."

"Liar."

Joel looks up from the food at his brother. Tommy knows him too well.

"I told her. About what happened in Salt Lake City."

"That didn't go well."

"It didn't."

Joel looks down again and stuffs his mouth with the rest of the food. The conversation is over for his part, and Tommy knows better than to push it.

"She'll come round."

Joel grunts, and they both sit in silence for a while before Tommy rises.

"I gotta get back to work. Lemme know if you need anything."

Joel clears his throat. "If you see Ellie... tell her I'm not coming back to the house for a while. I don't want her to have to move out."

"Sure, bro."

Tommy pats Joel on the back as he passes him by, and when the front door closes, Joel follows to lock it. He then comes to the bedroom, kicks off his boots, and crawls into bed next to you. His fingers tremble slightly when he touches your forehead, still finding you burning hot. Carefully, not wanting to wake you, he fits himself to your body, puts his head down, and watches you through the grey winter light.

Caring for you has kept him busy enough to not dwell too much on what happened with Ellie, but now his brain is buzzing with her last words to him, her rage and disappointment, his failure. He owes Ellie so much, and he failed her.

His unavailable heart has been locked inside his closed chest for so long, until Ellie cracked it open. Ellie, with her courage, innocence, those stupid puns that she loves so much, and that Joel can’t help smiling at. How could he have surrendered her to the Fireflies? His relationship with Ellie had developed from duty to decency before finally unfolding into love. He has already known the worst pain in his life, and he wasn’t going to live through that again. He simply could not give Ellie up.

And now he has lost her anyway, and he might lose you too.

"You get well," he whispers, assured that you can't hear his dramatic, pathetic plea, even when it's directed at you. "My heart can't take it if you don't make it, you hear me? Don't you dare die on me."

You offer him no sign of having heard him. He swallows, his throat tight, and presses his eyes shut, praying that sleep will take his worries away.

Your violent coughing wakes him up. He blinks blearily in the dark room before he gets his bearings, his arm going around the body that is convulsing next to him. It's a wet cough, rattling in your lungs, and it's new. He sits up in bed, hands on you, like that's going to help. As if anything he does helps. He hates the feeling on not being able to help.

When your coughing subsides, you groan and mumble something.

"What's that, darlin'?"

"My head," you repeat, voice raspy and thin.

"Just lay still."

"Thirsty."

Joel promptly rolls out of bed and goes to get a fresh glass of water from the kitchen. When he sits by your side to help you drink it, he realizes that you're no longer shaking. You take little sips before slumping back against the pillow, your face ashen and your eyes matted, but when he feels your forehead, he can tell you no longer have a fever. That has to be a good sign, right?

“How are you feelin’?” he asks, knowing immediately that it is a stupid question. You open your mouth, but instead of words coming out, there is a bout of coughing. Joel grimaces sympathetically as he takes the glass from your hand to avoid you spilling on yourself.

“Been better,” you finally wheeze, reaching for the glass again as soon as the coughing subsides. He gets up to go refill it, and you drowsily look around the room.

“What day is it?”

“Tuesday,” he calls back from the kitchen.

You let that sink in. When Joel comes back in, he clearly sees your confusion.

“You’ve been out of it for a few days, yeah.”

“And you’ve been here the whole time?”

He hands you the refilled glass but averts his eyes when he replies.

“Someone had to look out for you.”

You drink more greedily now, the cold water lashing its way down your scratchy throat in a way that makes you feel more alert despite the discomfort. Joel takes your glass when you’re finished, puts it on the nightstand, and pulls the covers more snugly around you.

“I’m fine,” you tell him, somewhat amused at his fussing. “You should go home. Has Ellie even seen you since I got sick?”

He freezes, pain flashing across his face before his features turn to cold, hard stone. But you saw it, plain as day.

“Joel?”

He doesn’t answer, and your fear rises.

“Joel, is Ellie alright?”

“Yes.” The answer comes promptly, but the three letters contain a world of events and emotions that you, despite your current state, need to know more of.

“What happened?”

“We’ll talk about it later, darlin’. You need to rest.”

“We’ll talk about it now.” You stress the last word with a rise in volume and pitch, which brings about another bout of coughing. When you’re done, Joel gives you a disapproving glare.

“You’re not well.”

“Duh. Now tell me, or do I have to get out of this bed and go find Ellie myself?”

He sighs deeply, jaw squared as he stares out of the open bedroom door. You wait as he gathers himself.

“I told her. About Salt Lake City.”

“And she didn’t take it well?”

“No. She never wants to see me again. She hates me.”

“Joel…”

Joel can’t look at you. Not even his brother knows the whole story, but he has told you, one late night after the two of you had fucked and were sharing whispered secrets in each other’s arms. He couldn’t keep you in the dark, you’re too important. With all that he has lost in life, with all of his scars and traumas, he got to know Ellie, and he got to know you. When he least expected it, you came along, with your way of seeing the world, its light and its shadows, your body as aching as his but your mind nowhere near as broken. Your ribs bend open so easily for your heart to do what hearts do best. And that kept his chest from closing again now that Ellie hates him.

He’s so grateful for you. And so ashamed.

Tears burn in his eyes and when you sit up and put your hand on his shoulder, he draws a sobbing breath. Goddammit.

“It’s okay, Joel,” you rasp. “We’ll figure it out.”

He passes his hands over his face, wills his tears away, but the more he fights it, the more constricted his chest feels.

No, not now, not when he needs to stay strong for you!

“Joel?”

“Be right back,” he presses, standing up so quickly that the world spins for a second, and his first two steps are wobbly. He hears you speak his name again, but he hurries out to the kitchen, finding support from the sink, his head swimming, his heart beating so fast he thinks it’s going to explode but at the same time he can’t breathe, his throat is closed, he can’t breathe, he can’t breathe, Jesus fucking Christ he’s having a heart attack –

“Joel!”

Your hands are on him, turning him around. At the end of his tunnel vision is your haggard face, and through the roar in his ears – where did that come from and what is it? – he can hear your voice.

“Joel? Listen to my voice. Feel my touch. You’re okay, baby, you’re okay. I promise. You can breathe. Just take a deep breath, that’s it, just like that, and exhale. Good, go ahead, take another one. That’s great, Joel, just like that.”

Without even noticing, your hoarse voice has pushed through the panic and the pain and the noises, and he finds himself breathing deeply, consciously, his heart slowing down. He blinks a couple of times, and his eyesight is back to normal. You’re in front of him, nodding your encouragement. He wets his lips, wants to say something, but then his knees buckle under him, and before he knows it, both of you are on the floor, you from trying to help him, your still weak body no match for his weight.

You’re coughing, and he collects you in his arms, ignoring the smarting in his elbow. It keeps him sharp.

“You okay?” he asks you as soon as you’re done coughing. You nod against his chest, wheezing breath keeping you from speaking. He holds you closer when you shiver slightly, and when you embrace him back, he feels a lot better.

“What about you?”

“I’m good, darlin’, don’t worry about me.”

“That was a panic attack, Joel, and not a small one.”

He frowns, looks down at you.

“I have a heart problem.”

“Maybe so, but that wasn’t a heart attack. It was a panic attack.”

“How would you know?”

You roll your eyes at him, even though it hurts your head.

“I’m a nurse, Joel.”

He has to chuckle at your tone, but you’re not amused.

“I also had a sister who suffered panic attacks from a young age. It differs from person to person, but what I did to you worked on her. Seemed to work on you as well.”

“It… did. Thank you.”

“How long have you – “ you start, but he interrupts you, though not unkindly.

“Can we… not talk about it right now? I’m exhausted, and you need to rest.”

You agree, and with combined forces, the two of you manage to get off the floor and drag yourselves back to the bedroom. You collapse on the bed together and just barely find the energy to arrange yourselves comfortably before both of you are out.

You sleep uneasily, your cough waking you up constantly. Your head is still aching, and your throat is lined with needles when you swallow, not to mention how much your lungs hurt when you cough, but you’re hungry for the first time since you got sick.

You hear a light snore next to you, so you turn your head. Joel is deep asleep, turned away from you, sleeping on his good ear. Your hacking must have disturbed him because you’re quite sure that he was holding you when you went to sleep.

Slowly, gently, you place your hand between his shoulder blades. He’s warm, sweaty even, in his flannel and no doubt from his attack earlier. But he seems at ease now: his broad back is relaxed, his breaths are deep and even, and he doesn’t move when touched. Carefully, you scoot closer, a tickle in your throat threatening to grow into a cough, but you manage to keep it down. Your arm goes around his waist, and you mold yourself to his form, spooning him tightly, your hand finding a soft spot on his belly to rest against. His breath stutters and changes, but other than his hand clumsily finding yours, he doesn’t move.

He smells of old sweat, and you don’t feel too fresh yourself. The thought of taking a shower with him once he wakes up sets off a pull deep within your lower belly, and you smile as you feel your cheeks heat up. Even when struggling through the worst flu you’ve ever experienced, you can’t keep from fantasizing about the things this man can do with his hands, his mouth, his cock…

You take it he’s to stay with you now, which means that you have to tidy up the living-room, make room for him, but you find yourself not minding. You want him there, you want to go to sleep and wake up with him next to you, and once you get well you want to wake up with your hands all over each other, his mouth on your skin, his rare smiles over breakfast.

The thought of breakfast makes your stomach growl, and you feel a little faint. It’s definitely time to eat something. Gently, you move away from Joel, rousing him when your arm leaves his waist. He rolls over onto his back and rubs his eyes before looking at you.

“Hi,” you smile, patting his arm. “You sleep if you need to. I gotta eat.”

“What time is it?”

“No idea, but it’s still light outside.”

“I’ll fix us something.”

“It’s fine, I’m on it.”

You get out of bed, your legs a little weak but still carrying you, and go to the bathroom first. Joel’s heavy steps are heard making their way to the kitchen, and when you appear in the doorway, he’s already making tea and heating up broth.

“I’ll get something from the kitchens,” he tells you without looking up. “Better see my brother too, let him know we’re alive.”

You walk up to him, feeling a little bit like Bambi on the ice, but you make it, and you wrap your arms around him from behind, and rest your cheek to his back. Joel stops what he’s doing, muscles flexing before relaxing, and his hands come to rest on top of yours.

“You okay, sweetheart?”

“Uh-huh.”

He turns around until he’s facing you, and there is something soft in his eyes when he cups your cheeks with his big, warm hands and leans his forehead to yours. Both of you exhale audibly, then smile together. You lick your lips, clear your throat.

“Joel…”

“I love you.” His fingers make small, soothing circles behind your ears.

He beat you to it, the rascal.

“I love you, Joel. We’ll fix this. You’ll stay with me, and we’ll figure it out.”

“Thank you.”

He tilts his head a little, lips ghosting over yours. You draw back.

“I don’t want you to catch what I have.”

“I don’t care.”

He kisses you, and you let yourself melt into it, into the assurance that Joel Miller is yours, body and soul.

[kaz-identified]

houseofmcallister presents

Almost (Sweet Music)

Pairing: Crow x Young Wolf , slight/implied Uldren Sov x Young Wolf

Category: One-Shot

Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort

Rating: 13+

Warnings: No major warnings apply

Word Count: 926

Summary: I’m almost me again, he’s almost you…

name faolan and she/her pronouns used for young wolf, in accordance with old mcallister fics.

author's note: this fic hinges on my deeply held belief that the young wolf and uldren were friends. also hozier inspired so like yay pain.

I laugh like me again, she laughs like you.

Crow is quiet when she approaches. Her eyes are concerned. It's rare to see Faolan without her helmet. It's even rarer to see her look this... disheveled. Her eyes, normally so bright and full of light, eyes like a stormy sky, are downcast, dark. The only light in her eyes was the Void twinning around her pupil, granting her a second sight, Truesight, she calls it.

She falls down on the bench beside him. Her hair is a mess, dirt and gunsmoke smudge her face.The white X across her face, her beloved warpaint, has been rubbed off in places. She's really out of it. The Nightmares took a real toll on her, huh? Maybe now isn't the time to do this... maybe another ti-

"The nightmare- he's wrong, by the way. I don't blame you for what he did."

OK, so they're doing this now.

"I- didn't think he was right..." Crow says quietly. "Don't lie to me, birdbrain," she looks up at him. God, she looks so tired. There's a triumphant glint in her eyes but she looks exhausted. "You're bad at it. Uldren was too," she chuckles. He flinches the smallest bit, but stops himself from making any visible reaction. Uldren was her friend, she's speaking of him fondly right now... he doesn't want to interrupt that. Some other perspective of who he was, a perspective that isn't how he was a murderer.

"He was?" Crow questions, his tone the kind you use for a scared animal, trying not to scare off this chance for information. Faolan swipes at the bridge of her nose, wiping away some gunpowder. "Oh yeah. Big time. He could keep secrets so well but that pride of his made it so he couldn't lie well. You could always tell, he'd grit his teeth a little bit." She smiles at the memory. Crow smiles at her smiling. "What was I- he... like? Outside of... you know." Faolan sighs. "You don't wanna know about that, Crow. You have the memories. You know what he was like." Crow shakes his head. "I don't want to know how he perceived himself I... I wanna know what he was actually like." Faolan lets out another sigh, a deeper one, and looks up at him. "He was a bastard. There's no two ways around it. Uldren Sov was, pardon my language, he was a cunt. He was a smug motherfucker that thought he knew best and everyone else was a little stupid. He was kinda right about that... as far as it went with me."

"You? Stupid?" He asks, laughing a bit.

"I was a New Light! Greener then you. Real wet behind the ears. Uldren liked to make fun of me for that, but I learned a lot from him. When he wasn't being a piece of shit he was-" she cuts herself off, looking down.

"He was..?" Crow prompts. "He was my friend," Faolan says, quietly, almost... almost reverent. "I trusted him. I looked up to him a bit, I won't lie to you," she says with a half-laugh. Crow looks at her in shock. He had thought she would have hated him. "Hunting him was... the hardest thing I've ever had to do." She finally meets his gaze. She looks like she's on the brink of tears. "Losing Cayde was the worst day of my life. But having to kill my friend? I don't think I'll ever do anything worse than that..." she barely even whispers it.

Crow resists the urge to wipe her tears from her face, it hurts him to see her like this. She should never cry, it's like seeing the sun be blotted out, its horrifying. She should always be smiling and joyful, always be able to be grinning and cracking jokes. He hopes he never sees this again, hopes she never feels anything that makes her cry again, she deserves to be joyful forever.

"I don't... I don't blame him for what happened," she says, finally looking up, wiping away at her own tears. "He wasn't himself, Riven got her claws in him. My Uldren would've said something other than bullshit when I shot him," she says with a choked laughing sob. Crow feels his heart stop for a second. 'My Uldren'... he knows she means nothing by it, nothing besides to say the man she knew but... some part of him, some part of him that holds Uldren's memories feels something intense when she says that.

She looks down at her hands. "You remind me of him, how he was when we were in the field. When he wasn't being a jackass." She looks up at him and smiles so softly. "You aren't the same person, not at all but... you have his face and you have the heart he tried to pretend he didn't have. That means something." She rests her head against the wall, smiling at the ceiling. "It's nice to know that... you're not him but, the best parts of him are still here, in you. The parts I-" she cuts herself off, yawning. "The parts you...?" Crow asks. "The parts of him I respected." She answers. She smiles at him. "You're like... what he could've been." Crow smiles back. "You think so?" She rests her head against the wall again. "I know so. And I think you do too. Now can we be quiet for a bit? I am... so tired." "Of course, of course," he says, hushing himself. "Sleep well, Old Light." "Shut up, Birdbrain," she mumbles, but she's smiling.

i was listening to the torture dance song while formatting this there are now two songs associated with this fic and only one of them makes sense.

ao3: houseofmcallister main account: houseofmcallister buy me a coffee!

Don’t repost my work or I’ll eat your shoulder blades! I do not consent to my works being used for AI training purposes.

[penroseparticle]

Penrose Song of the Day Day 41: Feel Good by Gibbz ft. Russ Liquid

I'm having trouble writing because I'm having trouble deciding what's worth saying. What is there to say that hasn't been said already. I'm but one monkey with a typewriter, cut me some slack.

I've been thinking about taste, and recommendations, and what the music we like says about us. I've been thinking about arrogance, and cruelty, and a little bit about No True Scotsman fallacies, too. I just. I don't know. What is "good" music and why are so many people fans of "bad" music.

I don't think bad music even exists, at least not really. I think music like any medium has so many competing and often contradictory delivery methods, goals, audiences, and interpretations that a categorical verdict like that is, frankly, Quixotic. I think about things like Throbbing Gristle and Clown Core, like Taylor Swift and Imagine Dragons, like Jungkook and 21 Savage and JVKE and Drake and AJR and all of the people who would say you're not listening to "real music" or "good music". There's a pity that's normalized with the superiority of your music tastes.

On the other hand, the more you learn and deeper you dive into anything, the more repetition you hear. The more you see things as hackneyed or trite. You've seen it before, heard it before, etc. You learn when someone was stolen from, when an artist is just rehashing something or taking from an entire genre/subculture that they weren't part of. Wider eyes see the ugly truths right?

I don't know. It's tough. I wonder if there's an answer that's satisfactory.

I saw Gibbz live, actually. Back in... 2017? I was seeing... I think A SIlent Film? With my good friend Katie. This was back when she would suggest we go see a band and I would just say yes. I think Gibbz opened. I don't remember. Shout Out Rock and Roll Hotel, I miss that venue.

Gibbz wasn't what I was expecting. A little smooth, a little mischievous. Like a wink between good friends. Electronic but soulful. A Silent Film was more classic, traditional rock. Gibbz was one guy at the front with a synth and a crooner's deathgrip on the microphone.

I went up and spoke to him after his set. It was a small venue, he was an opening artist, I just told him I loved his stuff and I really loved I Really Love You (which is still my favorite Gibbz song, for the record). He was kind. He said thanks, and how it was humbling to be playing live. It was a nice interaction.

I think, given the time and money to do so, I want to get back to doing this. Just going to shows blind, of artists I've never heard of, in genre's I've never imagined.

What does all this have to do with taste. I meander, I know. I'll bring it back.

I think I have pretty basic, milquetoast tastes. I like pretty average music. I have a passing interest in things with more obscurity- I like melodic forms of metal, I keep a finger on the pulse of industrial for Lauren. I'm finding myself drawn more to house, classical, and jazz. I like Math Rock.

But cards on the table, my favorite type of music with a bullet is Hot Pop Girlies Having Fun (tm). The Sabrina Carpenters. The Dua Lipas. My second favorite type of music is apparently Men Being Sad (the Hoziers of the world). I don't think that's ever going to change. And I'm trying to be more ok with that. I'm trying to stop letting audience or surveilance or observation change what I like and what I enjoy. I'm trying to unlearn shame.

I don't know. I just want to listen to something I love. You know?

I've stopped sharing music with a lot of people in my life (I'm aware of the irony of having that rumination on this kind of post, thanks). There's like 3 people I share music with IRL and I basically only listen to music with headphones these days. I want to make music one day but I'm struggling to see what the point is. I gotta remember the effusive joy that comes from creation, but I also need to remember, somehow, some way, that sharing music is good, actually.

Anyways, enjoy this song. I hope you feel how this song feels, at least to me. Chill, soulful, grateful to be alive, and above all, I hope that you feel good.

You could be dead right now. Go listen to something you love.

[sparrow-orion-writes]

I wrote this whilst listening to Hozier so, good luck. I just wanted to write something, so this isn't my best and it isn't very coherent.

Written for @flashfictionfridayofficial

Ari/Tune from The Arcadian Wilds (Book 2: Out of Sight and Mind)

Time is an odd thing, Ari thought.

When he'd left his home town there had still been cracks in the pavement, and the plants were struggling to find a place in the concrete, and there were more trees. And his name had been something else.

And she hadn't looked like that.

There's a wonderful irony in both of them coming back with different genders, he muses quietly to himself. From the distance he'd made himself comfortable at, he'd had to look twice to catch a glimpse of the person she had been. He imagines she would have to do the same.

Her eyes are unchanged, bar the obvious wear of the past decade laying quietly in the mischevious glint that had always been there. When Ari was younger he'd likened them to the sky in a summer storm, not just for the colour but how she wore them.

Everything else simply got larger and longer and held with more grace. She leaned against the wall with her same smoking habit - though a nicer lighter - and he admired the muscle to her exposed arms, the length to her legs. She was almost as tall as him.

More than anything, Ari wants to know her. He wants to know her name, now, he doubts she'd keep something as plain as it had been when she was clearly so vibrant now. Her hair long curls of shades of blue. Her makeup full of glitter. Her nails sharp and pink. She was made, he thinks, for better names than that.

Ari had always wondered what he'd do if he ever met her again. He finds that he still doesn't have an answer. Faced with her now, seeing her as the woman she is, he feels almost shy. That hadn't even occured to him as an outcome, but it's true, he feels somewhat inadequate to talk to her. Not for all the hassle he'd put her through, and not for the sheer beauty of her.

He takes a step towards her, then stops. Stood uncomfortably on the corner of the street. She wouldn't recognise him, anyway. He turns and continues on down the side street, carrying himself further away from her at a heightened pace.

Some time, but not now. Not like this.

When he gets home, he asks Eli for her name. His brother looks up at him with something close to relief, or perhaps sadness. Ari imagines he wants to ask a hundred questions about how he's feeling, or thinking, but they've never had that sort of relationship.

"Neptune," Eli finally answers him, after a long moment. "Her name's Neptune, now."

"Neptune," Ari whispers, holding every syllable on her tongue with an ounce of reverence. "What a beautiful name," he utters absently, the corners of his lips almost a smile. "Thank you, Eli."

"Will you speak with her?"

"At some point," Ari looks down at the floor "...but not yet."

"Do you want me to tell her the truth?"

Ari hesitates, he looks to his brother, searching him for some indication on what his response should be, but finds nothing. "I don't know," he replies honestly "...It feels unkind to have you tell her that I'm still alive, no, I believe this is my responsibility." He takes a deep breath. "I just need some time."

"...Are you okay?"

A pause. Silence lingers as Ari realises, he doesn't quite have an answer to this. "I will be." The two of them share a more formal nod than brothers should, perhaps, have. But for a mere second, they were almost normal.

[amlao]

I don't know what it is about work that makes me so mentally unstable, but there are times I get tearful about leaving Shawn's calming, serene presence to be thrusted into the hellfire of bedside nursing.

My brain is still recovering from a shift that left my entire head throbbing with stress, and getting little touches and kisses from him during Hozier was merely a tease.

Every week my sympathetic and parasympathetic nervous systems are at war with each other.

The fluttering waves of serotonin I get from imagining my face buried in his chest pull the string, unraveling the slipknot squeezing my stomach.

Before now, I've never experienced a true reversal agent to my anxiety.

Doing makeup distracts from it, occupying my brain with a pleasant state of hyperfocus, allowing the anxiety to fade into the background.

Sometimes, thinking of a more manageable anxiety would loosen the knot. Something familiar that I've lamented on for ages, that I've resolved.

If all else failed, I would lean into it full tilt. I drove to take my NCLEX on the cusp of a full-blown panic attack, absolutely screaming That's Amore, which was blaring from the speakers of my car. Better to have the chaos and insanity out in the open than festering inside, I suppose.

But something about Shawn's presence.

The way he lets out a pleasant sigh of, 'Mmmm,' when we first get in bed together and find each other in the dark, coming together in a long-awaited embrace.

The way he senses and acknowledges my feelings without a semblance of judgment.

Even when I'm embarrassed.

Because I don't cry.

Not normally.

I didn't cry when my first serious boyfriend passed away suddenly.

After my tumultuous, abusive relationship with Logan ended in betrayal, I only cried once. He cried hundreds of times throughout the course of the breakup, throwing himself on the floor, throwing things, ripping off his shirt in an egregious display of narcissistic rage.

I woke up the morning after I knew it had to be over and allowed myself a handful of tearful seconds to acknowledge that it sucks to still love someone you know you can't be with. And then I began the process of moving on.

But something happens when I'm with Shawn. A certain emotional portal is tapped into. It's relief. I'm safe now. Potentially more safe than I've ever felt in my entire life.

But it's also anticipatory grief in the notion that this safety is temporary and fleeting. That in just mere hours or days, I'll be fighting for my life among a violent chorus of beeps and screams and alarms, while having so much responsibility and so little time to carry it out as thoroughly as I desire.

"You never think I'm unhinged for crying like this?" I ask.

"No," he says, casually and sincerely, "I want you to feel your feelings,"

I have never felt more peace and serenity in my life than a night we curled up in his bed and watched Planet Earth, which he had projected onto his wall. There was a thunderstorm outside that you could clearly hear and see through the window. Something about being simultaneously so cozy, but surrounded by the elements just made for a heightened appreciation of the closeness and warmth between us.

I run my hands along his chest and shoulders and I am absolutely fucking losing it. I have never loved anyone so viscerally and intensely in my entire life. The love I feel for him swells within my chest and both pleasantly and overwhelmingly vibrates throughout my sternum, threatening to explode through my ribcage. It's overpowering. It's lightyears stronger than any play-it-cool mind game I've played with any other man and attempted to call it love. For the first time in questionably ever, I don't care how stupid I look. He has to know how I feel.

I could not possibly keep this feeling to myself.

And at the same time as I'm trying to collect words, he turns to me and says, "They say that when you die, you get trapped in one moment of your life for all eternity. I really hope it's this one,"

[survivor-marieta-islands]

Episode 4: "Tell me why i power nap for 6 hours and wake up to the vote being for me"—Ellie

Sin Sazonar

Tanner

Adeline seems to be on my side if we lose challenges but I don’t think we will

Adeline

I’ve tried to be a little more active recently but it’s v hard hehe. Got some talking in today tho with Trinica, hairie, and tanner

Shawn

Okay I don't know I'm not loving how everyone wants to bow out. Like puzzles are fun, this is supposed to be a fun game. And people want to bow out instead, because they don't feel confident in it. Like that doesn't matter, have some confidence, we can't all sit it out. I understand I HAVE to participate, but I said repeatedly before that I was so down to do this. I play online puzzles for fun, I feel good. It takes me around 3 min per puzzle but I can get that down further if I concentrate.

Trinica

My tribe is truly driving me nuts with challenge strategizing. Why did Shawn suggest I sit out after I did so well in the other challenges? Why would we not sit out someone like Tanner who has already shown poor challenge performances in the past? Why, when I suggested we rate ourselves and simply sit out the worst two, did everyone AGREE and THEN ARGUE ABOUT "WELL TANNER REALLY WANTS TO PLAY"??? okay but i really want to WIN y'all ;___;

AJ

Puzzles? In a Raffy Season? Madness.

--

In all seriousness though I do believe we’re going to lose this challenge. Current normal tribe time is around an hour - I have heard nothing from Tanner and I do worry about that. My only hope that we win is that someone is mysteriously super good at this puzzle and finishes it in under ten minutes otherwise we….we lose. I mean I feel like we’ve already lost - this really and truly was and is our challenge to lose. But I’ll go to sleep, and what happens when I wake up happens.

Arvin

I sat out of the challenge because I'm not really confident in jigsaw puzzles, and it seems like everyone is not gonna sit out so I volunteered. But if it's a slide puzzles, I'm gonna play 100%.

I'm gonna sit out. I really enjoyed my time in the sit out bench. I even asked Jay if they have something for me in the bench, like an advantage or something, but yeah, they got nothing for me. Hahaha. But yeah we won the challenge. I didn't know what the strategy was but it worked. New school strategy rules.

Brandi

I was at my highest high from the win and my lowest low when I thought we lost for .5 seconds.

Now sin sazonar are back babyyyyy!!!!!!

Ps. Jay is the best host and they really helped me feel welcome and it makes me sad when they say they are crying or others aren’t being very nice to them. They are putting on this entire game! We are so lucky they put in all this effort for us. I hope people learn to be nicer.

Shawn

Trinica really helped us out with the puzzle thing. Our host got a lil bullied because of that, but what can we say, everything is turning out new school. No tribal tonight again for us. I hope we keep winning like this, maybe there won't even be a merge after all. Ps still hoping I make it to merge. I won't be able to win, I know that, but id like to make it to merge. Just to say I did.

Trinica

First of all, stream Unreal Unearth by Hozier gays!!!!

Second of all, we WON THE PUZZLE CHALLENGE!!!! In a way I actually hate but listen you gotta do what you gotta do, and if you gotta game a puzzle platform, you gotta game a puzzle platform. Sorry to that man (Raffy) because no way was I beating your 18 minute score. But you're the true winner of this challenge.

Tanner got 174 minutes, and Adeline didn't submit and got 178, so if it wasn't for our 10% AD we would have lost this one thanks to those 2. I would sooner vote out Tanner if we get a chance since he has done poorly on every single challenge and this is the first Adeline flopped on (and she was not in top form as she was sick).

Anyway, Hairie said he doesn't want to write my name down ever and I'm hoping he means that 💓

Hairie

There wasn’t enough social battery to get on video for confessional so this time it’s by text.

This challenge was ours to lose. A jigsaw puzzle. At first we couldn’t decide on the sit-outs which led to a randomiser.

Then, the tribe was clearly struggling with 174 mins and then the rest ranging from 30+ - 60 mins … Deadly indeed and it was probably going to someone that did not perform well going home had we lost.

I knew I had to step in and share the strategy that I learned from an ally from a game shout out to you !!!

Reducing most of our times and we ended up clutching the win thanks to the challenge advantage because that was a close one.

With that, sending the old school tribe to another tribal and hoping they shake things up. (I don’t even know what’s going but yeah) 😂

The idol hunt is interesting. People are interesting. So I decided to fake a message for shits and giggles. Maybe it sent someone spiralling? I don’t know and do I care? Also no. I’m in my unhinged era and Jay’s here for it so am I. Actually I’m THE calmest person on my tribe (or maybe I’m delusional) well maybe I am also in my delulu era because who says we cannot be in two eras concurrently. I should have been on the old school tribe since they say they’re calm and not chaotic or messy (or behind the scenes). Then I came clean about the lie of the idol hunt the next day and called people out (stop lying too much) and making stuff confusing or cryptic and to pay it forward, told more truths about the idol ground (probably more than anyone) because I did publicly. Nobody knows what game I am playing … even me LMAO

Trust rankings 1. Trinica 2. Arvin 3. Clefford 4. Tanner 5. Adeline 6. Brandi 7. AJ 8. Shawn

Antigua

Amy

no but it's the way the other side had a strategy where people were finishing under 5 minutes and they just let someone on their own tribe do that puzzle for almost 3 hours.

Raffy

I know everyone on the tribe is hung up on the other tribe doing so well, but I need them to understand that if Zo had participated, like AT ALL, then we would have won the challenge. All Zo needed to do was complete the puzzle ONCE under 51 minutes and we would have won regardless if they had some super secret strategy. Not only that we BEAT them without their advantage. I am so upset with Zo right now, but I can't even do anything about it because she has a whole non-men alliance protecting her. Without it, I could probably make a very successful push to eliminate her, but alas. I am at the whims of those on the top of the food chain and I have to exist as a second-rate tribe member.

Colin

god im so tired of LOSING i dont wanna VOTE ANYONE OUT ANYMORE i just want to REST

Raffy

So, on this call with Ellie, we both agreed we need to cut our losses and take out Colin. They are being entirely too messy with that last vote. And it's dragged both our games down as a result.

But what do I even do? I guess just survive until a tribe swap, survive until merge. My whole ORG career and life is just about survival apparently. I gotta keep being in the good graces of Zo since she is fully just controlling this entire tribe. Hopefully, Amy, Jinx, and/or Ellie can put in a good word for me with the people who actually control this tribe. It's not the worst position to be in, but it is not ideal either.

I really just don't know what more else I could have done in this game. Like, it seemed like everyone liked me, but I guess I'm just not in-group material for these types of things. Oh well. That's enough wallowing for now.

--

I am now shifting the target to Zo because the challenge performance makes it easier to target her. I talked to Ellie and Colin about it. Ellie seemed to want to do it. Colin seemed hesitant. I talked to JG. He seemed ok with it. But, according to Amy, he was just saying what I want to hear and placating me. Amy also seems hesitant since she doesn't seem to think the numbers are there. I'm tired. I'm not doing this anymore. People can just vote me out or not. It's not like anything I say can convince anyone.

Maddison

HEY PARTY PEOPLEEEE. i’ve been MIA visiting my parents but here we are at tribal again :) not live laugh loving the fact that we keep losing but it iz what it iz. i suspect a swap or a twist of some sort after this given the number discrepancy between the tribes, but who knows. i’d like to keep the barbs together for this vote and make it easy with 5 on whoever we choose, barring an idol. honestly i’d love for colin to go home because he is a self-professed ‘messy’ player, but raffy is also a threat down the line. jg seems like an easy target but i don’t think he’d be a social threat at swap/merge. the barbs are a whole other set of considerations but why ruin a voting block at this point in the game? we will see how it shakes out ig!!

Zo

I’m sensing some woman on woman crime this evening…

Maddison

barb on barb violence… stay tuned

Raffy

JG is throwing me under the bus to Zo about how I am spreading her name along with Ellie. I'm so tired of this man. I could literally give him all the information in the world and he still would rather shoot himself in the foot, dive off a cliff, and swallow a gallon of bleach before ever thinking, maybe, JUST MAYBE, that Steven, or Colin, or Ellie, or I are telling the truth. Get your head out of your ass and maybe you'd be able to win this game. But as it stands, JG is dead to me in this game because he cannot see what is right in front of him, he cannot keep his mouth shut, and he has some sort of vendetta against me and my friends. But we'll see how that works out for him.

Colin

so theres TWO major alliances (that im aware of) on this tribe. the first one was me + raffy + steven + ellie. the other one is zo + jinx + maddison + ellie. zo told me that maddison made this alliance round 2 when her name was going around. it was a huge reveal because ellie was in our alliance and didn't say ANYTHING about it. and jinx is working closely with raffy and hasn't said anything about it. thats what my perception of the two sides are.

So there’s a Secret Plan happening to vote out Zo because of the challenge (she didn't submit), but I think it’s mostly because Raffy wants to make a move against the other alliance. I like Zo a lot and don’t wanna vote her, except Zo has that alliance and I'm not in it, so I have no idea if she even actually wants to work with me, we've just had a few one on one game conversations.

meanwhile, I want JG OUT. like he has no intention of working with us and it's so obvious. I get Zo is a scary social player but I don't think that it's worth it to vote her out rn, we need allies heading into a likely swap next round.

Zo

my name: *is on the chopping block* me: but what if i took a nap until tribal?

Colin

okay THE RATS ARE LOOSE. I REPEAT, THE RATS ARE LOOSE.

i TOLD Raffy not to trust JG. like I've BEEN saying that. he threw him under the bus last round, and he's doing it again. So last round it was me, Raffy, and Ellie who decided we wanted to go vote JG. But Raffy told JG that it was Zo who put his name out. JG promptly went to Zo and was like “Heard you were throwing my name out” when she literally was not, that was just a lie said by Raffy.

NOW JG is going to Zo again, telling her that Raffy and Ellie are coming for her, and is i guess trying to orchestrate a blindside against Ellie it seems?? now I'm in the corner over here like OK NOW CAN WE VOTE JG?! I think raffy is finally getting the message that keeping him is NOT smart.

I talked with Zo and it sounds like she and Jinx were already playing with the idea of voting ellie last round. i think she thinks i can be a part of their voting block. I believe that me and Amy are smack dab in the middle of this and can realistically join either side

heres how i THINK the vote is gonna go tonight:

Ellie + Raffy + me + Amy voting JG JG + jinx + zo + maddison voting ellie

so....... did someone say rocks? :)

Zo

So the funny thing about me is I can go away for a nap for an hour and a half and come back and my name is off the block hdjsjdjjs

JG

Amy

honestly I just want to have fun so I'm being messy telling everyone everything 🤣 I will not be shocked if this gets flipped onto me but apparently Ellie Colin and raffy want me to vote out JG with them and jinx JG me zo? Maddison? will vote Ellie? I mean here's the problem I've played with Ellie enough to have assumed from the start they are with everyone (as I am 🤠) but the whole being in two opposing alliances wasn't grand with some people even though they chose to vote with the girlies but there's a concern about a swap and then being closer to Adeline than say I would be which would immediately put me more at risk of going home especially down numbers. Anyway tbh if raffy didn't flip his idea I would have voted zo out 100% and I already had my voting confessional planned.

Let's see though bc Colin wanted to make a group of me Ellie raffy and Colin to "fix communication" and force rocks lol and it hasn't been made so.... Would be a funny way to go

Oh also I can go on the other side of the idol hunt and made it directly to the other resort and was immediately barred from entry lol whoops where are these wristbands?

Colin

okay so tribal is in 50 minutes and everyone has been SO quiet today. like to a very stressful extent. i'm needing to take a step back and remember that as long as it aint me, i'm fine. I'm planning on voting JG, and honestly just because I think that everyone is so quiet, I don't see an actual organized effort happening against Ellie this round. JG and Zo seemed like they wanted to take her out, but no one's putting in the work to do so. i hope that means that ellie survives this round and JG gets out, which is what i've been trying to do since last round.

Ellie

Tell me why i power nap for 6 hours and wake up to the vote being for me

[megthemewlingquim]

someone new.

summary: there's an art to life's distractions.

pairing: eventual hades! loki x persephone! reader

warnings: implied smut, alcohol consumption

a/n: here it is, the first part of foreigner's god. as said in this fic's masterlist, these will not be chapters, but rather short stories and one shots that can be read separately or as one whole piece. it's up to you.

i plan to base each part off of one or two hozier songs. this is inspired by "someone new".

is there a right way to fall in love?

    that’s what loki asks himself every day — well, every night — when he spends his free time at bars and gatherings. populated widely with fellow gods, goddesses, and spirits of many colors and passions; these bars are perfect places to find someone new.

    being the god of death, however, puts loki at a bit of a disadvantage. yes, the stereotypes are, unfortunately, true. loki is dark, a little antisocial, and very quiet. beautiful in appearance — death is seductive, at least to the willing.

    ‘the willing’ being many a spirit, many a dryad or goddess or creature who wants bragging rights, or a little nightly thrill. ‘that’s right,’ they say, ‘i had a little dance with death last night.’

loki doesn’t mind the mornings when his temporary partners talk about the nights, but he always cringes when they mention that accursed french phrase — la petite mort. it’s a joke to them. a mockery.

   yet, they stay, and sometimes, they come back for another little death.

    the spirits and goddesses never make a big impact on him. he is with one for a night, then another for a night, and so on. he falls in love every day with someone new and it’s a bore. a bore and a drag.

    dark caresses don’t do much to numb the pain: the pain of loneliness and solitude. the ache in his heart is constant, tearing at his mind whenever it can. alcohol can't do much either — all gods have a very high tolerance. mead was made for them.

   so loki is left with no escape besides those that come from the willing. little deaths. they make him feel loved.

   no...

   no one loves death. some crave him. but they don't love him.

   that’s the common theme running through loki’s head every time he takes someone home with him, or goes upstairs with them to the top floors of the inns he’s at, where the bedrooms are. it’s a distraction.

   however, the cycle ends when, while pointlessly wandering around his usual bar, he sees someone new one night. you.

   you radiate this... this warmth that he’s never felt before. everyone around you seems to be affected by it too - they don’t treat you as the life of the party, but they do gravitate towards you like birds to a nest. 

    and you’re quite shy, but infectiously happy and cheerful. you’re so beautiful, with your bright eyes that he knows are wide and filled with wonder, and your lovely skin that he knows is so soft. and your smile that he knows is so comforting to all who see it.

   to everyone else, you feel like they’ve just wandered into a happy memory, or a sun-lit room that’s pleasantly warm and golden. you feel familiar. ordinary, but lovely all the same.

   to loki, you feel... feel like something he’s only experienced in dreams. so, really, he’s never felt it before in his immortal life: something warm and alive and... and anticipatory. like there’s new things about to come up to the surface — flowers, new animals, maybe. you give off a sense of... he can’t describe it well. a slow and joyful awakening something.

   and you also feel completely and utterly powerful. unstoppable. he’s terrified of you, and yet he’s drawn to you. you’re so fascinating, strange. not as if you could end the world, no, that’s his own job. but it’s as if you can bring the whole world to life, raise it back up again after the chaos fades.

   you feel like spring. like rebirth. like new life.

   and that’s when it hits him.

   persephone. he’s heard the name passed around before, but before now, he has never seen the face behind the name. something about this sparks some fear in him: how would persephone, goddess of spring, daughter of demeter, react to seeing anyone even remotely like himself?

   for a moment, he’s grateful that you’re not looking at him; you’re actually looking at the table, at the drink you’re sipping. there’s a look on your face that isn’t bored, nor afraid. maybe... observant.

   people are around you still. not crowding, but not interacting with you either. it’s like you have a bubble around you, keeping everyone from getting too close. maybe it’s your doing but maybe it’s theirs. honestly, you’d think that dryads and gods and goddesses and spirits of all forms and colors and subjects would be more accepting.

   he pities you. you seem lonely.

   loki takes a few steps forward, betraying his own fear. like the red sea, the crowd parts. some are bold and unafraid, and they give loki varying looks: disgusted, seductive, snarky. you don’t notice him until he sits down in front of you, at the other end of the table.

   “hi,” he says calmly. he manages a small smile. “you’re new here, aren’t you?”

   your eyes lift to lock with his own. immediately, you recoil just the slightest bit. he knows what you’re thinking: wait, that’s hades! god of death... wh-why is he talking to me?

   “it’s alright,” he soothes. “don’t worry. you’ve probably heard of all the stories: gods kidnapping and doing terrible things to goddesses and spirits and dryads. i’m not here to do any of that. i promise.”

   with a single, somewhat confused blink, you nod. “m-my mother has told me a lot about that stuff,” you say slowly, as if saying anything too revealing will somehow alert demeter and get you in trouble. “she’s... she’s terrified...”

   “what is she terrified of? that those terrible things might happen to you?”

   “yes,” you say. “she’s told me that she’s had nightmares in the past. specifically about you. how you’ll kidnap me and take me to hell to live with you.”

   he laughs at that - a rich, amused laugh that takes the shivers out of you. “that’s bullshit. overprotective mothers, yeah?”

   you shrug. “she loves me.”

   “and are you afraid of me, princess?” the last word is whispered. his voice extremely soft - it’s a curious question.

   he notices how you lick your lips. “no,” you say. he notices how your eyes flick all over him. “no, i’m not.” and you seem truthful.

   “smart girl,” he says with a grin. “i hate liars. there’s not a god on in the world that’s ever been truthful. well, besides jesus. yahweh. whatever you wanna call him.” loki leans back, crossing his hands behind his head and bringing his feet up to the table. “your father, though... he’s the worst of ‘em. having children with other women, including your mother, while hera has to sit by and watch, and then lying about it.”

   “we’re gods,” you say. “i'm not trying to justify things but... we’re far from perfect.”

   “damn right we are. we’re fucked up. good. we can agree on something. most days, people think us gods are... perfect things. role models. and, maybe some are. but not us. not the gods of olympus.”

   he pauses, takes a swig from a beer bottle that was not in his hand a few seconds ago. “i was wondering if you wanted to do what humans do.” loki winces at the awkwardness. “when they're... y'know. interested in someone.”

   “you're interested... in me?” you ask, incredulously.

   “yeah, i am.” one sip of beer has loosened his tongue. or maybe that's just his confidence soaring now. “maybe this hasn't been the best introduction to things but i would love to take you out sometime. show you things.”

   “my —” you swallow. “i'd get in trouble.” you shrink away just a bit.

   his smile fades and it's replaced with a sadder, more sincere look. “the best things in life have risk to them. it's time i show you that.”

   and really, he does feel sorry for you. it's your first time at a bar, you're lonely. no friends as far as he can tell. an overprotective goddess mother.

   “think of it this way. i think you're very pretty and i like your honesty. i would like to help you see the world, and to have a little fun, since your mother has obviously never let you do anything in your very, very long life.”

   “i'm twenty—one.”

   “and now i'm wondering if demeter actually has you tell people that, as if you're a teenage mortal.” loki shakes his head, disappointed. “that's pathetic. you're a bajillion years old. you're a goddess! you should be able to do whatever the fuck you want, right?”

   when there's no answer from you, he sighs. leans forward to sit normally, putting both of his elbows on the table and pointing his hands at you. “alright. i'll roll with it for now. you're twenty—one. i guess. you can drink. you can go out alone to bars and other places. you can meet new people. you're an adult. think about that.

   “so, again. i think you're very pretty and i wanna show you around. get to know you. would you like to do that with me?” he raises his eyebrows a little, waiting for a response.

   it's an eternity before you can win a battle in your mind. slowly, you nod, giving him a smile. “yeah,” you whisper. “yeah, i would. thank you.”

   “don't thank me just yet, sweetheart. i haven't shown you anything yet.” he gets up, pushes his chair in.

   before he leaves, he winks at you. “call me loki. it's... not as dreadful... as hades. and... what do i call you?”

   you say your name, your voice quiet.

   “much better than persephone, i think. it suits you. we'll keep in touch, ok?”

   “okay,” you say. butterflies are flying rapidly in your stomach.

   loki leaves you there. he'd much rather take you back to your home himself, but that would be too risky for the time being. for now, he walks out of that bar feeling like the king of the world.