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ohraicodoll · 2 years

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Teeth

Joel Miller x f!Reader (Feral Reader as you’ve all lovingly called her) The Last of Us (show/game) 4.5K Words (3rd POV) Part II to Monsters Summary: “Only Joel could make offering to get her off sound like a business transaction. But the intention was clear. This wasn’t intimacy, wasn’t passion boiling over, wasn’t romance. It was bodies and tactfulness and practicality.“ Warning: 18 + Minors DNI. Smut, pwp, mentions of violence, enemies to fwb, can be read standalone Part I | Part II

The house was too quiet.

So often on the road, they’d taken to sleeping in whatever buildings they could secure, alcoves in the woods, even an old run down vehicle on the side of the road occasionally. But this time they all got their own rooms, beds, to sleep in and instead of being comforting it made her anxious. She was used to the sounds of nature going on at night, the steady breathing of her companions, the slight vibrations of the world around her. There was nothing in the cabin but silence. They’d strategically picked rooms, Ellie taking the master bedroom as that was the farthest away from the entrance with hers and Joel’s closest to the front door. If someone went through the effort of getting through all the defenses and fences and managed to get inside, they’d have to get past their rooms first. Except not even that because she was awake and laying on the floor in the living room. The bed had been too soft, the walls pressing into her too much. Caged. So she had grabbed the blankets and pillows and thrown them on the floor on top of the couch cushions she’d yanked down. All where she could have a good vantage point of the front door, pistol resting beside her head and knife under the pillow. It was better, but still not the same.

All the clothes in the house were too big, no matter how tight she knotted the drawstrings, so she’d forgone pants and had thrown on an oversized shirt while her pants dried in what the previous owners had deemed the “laundry room.” The blankets were warm but a little itchy against her bare skin and she sighed. It was hard to relax, to take advantage of the amenities. The need to constantly be prepared for anything a humming nerve under her skin. She tried to calm herself, to focus, to slow the constant stream of thoughts going over the previous day. Finding the group, the bullet graze on her shoulder, the look of pure uninhibited rage as Joel caved the man’s skull in with his bare fist. And then the feel of that same hand in hers, rough skin against her own, and the warmth of Joel’s thighs against her body. “Except you’re wrong if you don’t think I like seeing you on your knees for me.” She wasn’t an idiot. The man was attractive and had been since the day she met him, no matter how much he set her teeth on edge and made her want to wring his neck. They were the same, hackles raised and maws snapping at every turn. She didn’t feel the need to play nice and hide who she was. He never batted an eye at her lack of hesitation towards violence, never looked at her fearfully or disapprovingly for shooting or stabbing first. She’d been around others before, had seen the way they skittered away in fear as if in a blood haze she’d go after them as well. Joel Miller was a survivor and knew that the world was ugly. And sometimes you had to match that ugliness to see the next day. He would have been the type of man that had intimidated her when she was younger. Too gruff, hardened, assured with his cocky attitude and rare smiles. Nothing like Harry. She’d been bashful before, wanting to break out of her shell but unable to take that leap. Not a leader, not a go-getter. Not quite the best at social interaction, at interacting with men specifically, words never coming easily. She would have blushed from one look from the Texan. The world wasn’t made for blushing anymore though and that was twenty years ago. That girl was dead. She was just wearing her skin. A skinwalker. A monster wearing a human form. The Outbreak had changed them all.

Now it was hard to feel anything. She felt tiny sparks of amusement from Ellie when she tried out new jokes to get a reaction, concern as she took note of the weight that seemed to be on the young girl’s shoulders, affection watching her take in every new surrounding, irritation when Joel bossed them both around. Rage and anger were the easiest to feel, so she took aim at the older man. Like poking a bear if only to feel the exhilaration of being chased. She felt most alive in the middle of a fight and when Joel’s eyes were glaring into her, teeth snapping at her. Staring up at the ceiling, the slight creak of a hinge caught her ear from down the hall followed by almost silent footsteps. Too heavy to be Ellie, too quiet for the girl that blew through life like a tornado. No, she watched and waited as Joel came around the corner, the lantern she had left lit in the corner of the room illuminating the frown tilting his lips down. The sweatpants that hadn’t fit her fit him perfectly, settling loose and comfy on his hips while the faded shirt stretched snuggly across his broad chest. She could see the telltale signs that he’d been running his hands through his head, the slight curls in disarray and silver catching the light. If he had been asleep, she couldn’t tell. Maybe he’d heard her leave her own room. He always did seem to know when she was moving around. “What’re you doin’ out here?” he grumbled quietly, the sound rough and low. The darkness hid his eyes from her but she knew he was probably glaring. Still annoyed over their exchange earlier most likely. She blinked at him then went back to staring at the ceiling, “Bed’s too soft.” My mind won’t shut off, the room is too quiet, the walls are too close, I don’t like sleeping alone anymore. The words were there, buried underneath layers of skin. Joel grunted, scratching at his chin and the patchy beard there before placing his hands on his hips and taking her in. He could tell when she was bullshitting, she knew that, but he wasn’t about to call her out on it. They didn’t do feelings, didn’t confess their fears in the dark. It was practical and that’s how they both liked it. So she reasoned it was in the name of practicality that he sighed and walked over. Because they had shit to get done the next day and he’d gripe at her if she was tired and couldn’t pull her weight. He nudged her side with his foot, the silent command to scoot over, and rather than be a brat and stare him down she did so. The cushions were wide and worn down, big enough for both of them and weren’t entirely uncomfortable. Better than what they were used to sleeping on. Odd sleeping arrangements weren’t new, the three of them pressed tight together like sardines trying to fit in whatever small safe space they could find. So it wasn’t exactly odd for him to be pressed close to her. There’d been many nights she’d fallen asleep to her cheek against his shoulder blades and Ellie wrapped around her back. Maybe he had come out to the living room for the same reasons she had. She wasn’t sure but wasn’t about to ask. Joel placed his own gun on the ground next to his side of the cushions, carefully kneeling down and lifting the blanket up to get underneath. She could feel his pause more than she could see it, could hear the slight curse under his breath, “You wearin’ any pants?” “Does it look like it?” He shook his head, jaw clenching but continued climbing in beside her. The apocalypse did away with a lot of things like modesty and politeness. She didn’t care, had gone and helped him in only a towel earlier because she was already there and wasn’t going to take the time to change just to tend to his hand. Practical. He shifted beside her, getting comfortable under the shared blanket and laying on his side facing away from her where he could still hear from his good side. There was a moment where his arm went under the pillow and he paused, pulling out the blade while giving her a look before moving it beside him. Never surprised, always annoyed. The heat from his body made up for having to share the blanket, warmth radiating from him and seeping into her. She hadn’t moved, eyes still glued to the ceiling though now her concentration was mostly on the slight sound of Joel’s breathing next to her, the way his back muscles shifted against her arms, the anxiety lessening now that she wasn’t alone. “You’re thinking too loud,” his voice growled next to her, bare feet brushing hers as he adjusted. “That’s not a thing,” she replied, very much still awake. Joel sighed and looked at her over his shoulder, “You gonna go to sleep anytime soon or should I go back to my room?” Rolling her eyes, she met his gaze in the dim lantern light, his irises practically black, “You act like I’m not trying to sleep. Brain’s too wired. Feel free to go back if all you’re gonna do is complain, I didn’t ask you to sleep in here.” He huffed, facing away from her and let the silence take back over.

This time the silence felt weighted, a heavy tension as they both acknowledged that neither of them were sleeping. Using his own words, she could hear him thinking loudly and it kicked up her nerves. She was extra aware of his heat, the press of his back against her arm, the slow and steady way his breath filled the air. It made her sensitive, made the world around her seem to vibrate. Joel was the one to break the silence again, the words deep and rough with his accent, “I can help, if you want…Distract you so you get to sleep.” Her heart sped up, the sound like a raging river in her mind. Her skin was tingling. “How so?” she could hear her own voice get huskier as she whispered back, the barest sound slipping out. He turned to look at her again over his shoulder, gaze heated, “You know how.” She did. Had more than once imagined his mouth on her, fingers slick with arousal and touching her- “Didn’t seem that into the idea earlier when you damn near bit my head off,” she scoffed and tried to ignore how every nerve was on fire. How he had been the one to bring it up and what he was offering. Joel didn’t say anything for a long minute, the memory of her on her knees and his fingers digging into his own thigh fresh. It’d been to rile him up, be a dick to him as he was being to her, but it wasn’t exactly not an invitation. She’d fucked worse to alleviate the tension, to say thanks, to satisfy a need. “Then maybe you weren’t listening correctly,” he grunted, “You want help or not? The window’s closing fast.” Only Joel could make offering to get her off sound like a business transaction. But the intention was clear. This wasn’t intimacy, wasn’t passion boiling over, wasn’t romance. It was bodies and tactfulness and practicality. She nodded, eyes on the ceiling. “Gonna need it out loud, darlin’,” he muttered lowly. Darlin. Not Starshine or Red or Hey You. It was a new one. “Okay,” she whispered and chewed on the inside of her cheek. She didn’t look at him, didn’t try and gauge his reaction or the look on his face. As unaffected as she was trying to come across, her heart was in her throat. It’d been a while, a good long while since someone else had touched her and it was Joel of all people breaking that dry spell. He turned over on his other side to face her and she could feel his eyes, the way they burned into her skin, “Turn over.” She didn’t argue, didn’t bristle at being ordered, simply faced away. It was better this way. It was too intimate to let him see her face, to watch his, and that wasn’t what this was. His chest was flush against her back and she could feel his breath against her neck, hands finding her waist as one of his knees pushed between hers. She expected him to be rougher, quicker, more methodical but he was soft and slow, taking his time. His fingers skimmed over her sides and down to her thighs, finding the hem of the worn shirt then the large expanse of bare skin. His palm was rough against the smooth skin and she bit down on her lip at the contrast in texture, finding she liked the feeling. Then the tips of his fingers were playing with the band of her underwear as his nose dragged along her neck, hot breath almost causing her to shiver. He slid his fingers along the thin straps, hand brushing against her heated skin and she could feel the edge of the bandage on the back of it. The bandage covering the split knuckles and sliced skin from him beating a man to death.

That kind of rage wasn’t supposed to be a turn on, but it had been. The old her would have been terrified, traumatized, backing away from him out of fear but not the person she was now. He had her back, had watched out for her and been there in the second she had been blinded by her overwhelming need to protect Ellie.

Joel had her. She pressed herself back into him and could hear his swallowed groan as her ass rubbed against his groin, at his obvious arousal pressing against her. He didn’t speak and neither did she. Only the sounds of their quickening breaths filled the silence of the living room and then a barely audible gasp as his fingers finally slipped underneath the cloth and found her center already hot and wet. He trailed along her slit, gathering the arousal soaking there, and spread it around, encircling her clit. He took his time, going slow, getting to know her and the sounds she desperately tried to keep locked inside her. She’d been quiet back in the day. Never been one for dirty talk or loud moans. Maybe because she’d been bashful and inexperienced and easily embarrassed. Soft, breathless, throaty. Now it was more out of instinct, survival, control. There wasn’t much she could control in the world but herself and any noises she made were for her to decide if she wanted them to be heard. So she swallowed the moan that strained to leave her lips as Joel circled her clit even more urgently, lightning shooting through her. His hand was large, so much bigger than hers. His whole body could probably wrap around her completely, cover her up and shield her from everything around them. Joel was a solid wall behind her and as his finger finally dipped inside, she gripped the pillow tightly in a clawed hand while the other dug into the bicep stretched across her. He curled inside her, thumb pressing down on her clit, and she clenched her teeth against another moan, throwing her head back. Salt and pepper curls tickled her chin and then his mouth was on her neck, hot and wet with teeth and tongue. She could smell him, gunpowder and musk and pine. Distinctly Joel and she bit down on her tongue hard, welcoming the slight tinge of copper in her attempt to keep from drowning in him. Another finger entered her and she almost sobbed at the stretch. The coil inside of her was winding tighter and tighter with each stroke, each slow pump, as he managed to tease a part of her that had her delirious with pleasure. He was methodical, precise, bringing her to the edge then pulling back to bring her back down to the shallows before building her up again. It was the perfect kind of torture that had her pushing into hand, searching for more. Her nails were making indents in his skin from how hard she was digging in, struggling to keep herself in control.

At last a gasp slipped through her lips unbidden. A crack forming. The small sound seemed to almost snap something in Joel. He cursed, pressing his forehead to her shoulder, before yanking her until she was on her back with his hand still down her panties. Before she could question him, his mouth was latched onto her neck and he was pressing deeper into her all the way to his knuckles, no longer going slow, no longer keeping her turned away from him. Their legs were tangled, thigh between his and hips pulled wider, and she could feel the hard length of his own arousal rubbing against her. She didn’t stop to wonder if this was about practicality anymore. If this had been part of the unspoken arrangement. Not when his mouth had inched down the collar of her shirt and he was pressing teeth into the small stars along her collarbone, worshiping the slip of skin. No, her hand reached out and pressed against his sweatpants, feeling him and taking in the way he hissed against her skin and jerked into her hand. Her back arched off the pillows as pleasure grew and their heated pants filled the room. Joel’s beard was scratchy against her skin and she knew there would be red marks all over her neck and across her chest but she didn’t care. His teeth nipped sharp spots of pain into her skin and then he would soothe the spot with his tongue. All while his fingers pumped in and out of her, the slick sound dampened by the underwear he’d shoved aside. Her own hand gripped him through his sweatpants, feeling his weight and length, mouth almost going dry at the size. He didn’t protest, didn’t say anything when she slipped her hand under the band of pants and past his underwear, feeling the hot velvet skin of his erection and passing a thumb over the tip to collect the moisture there. Instead he bit down harder and jutted into her hand, rocking and thrusting faster into her. Fuck, he was big and onehanded she stroked him the best she could, blind in the dark and moving in time with him. She was close, could feel the coil going taut and her breath coming out faster and faster. Her own face pressed into his shoulder, feeling the tight muscles in the arm holding himself over her. He almost seemed to shiver as she dragged her mouth along his skin then bit down, groaning open mouthed onto him as her orgasm crashed hard and unyielding. She didn’t slow down, didn’t release him, even as her body felt loose and HER breath came out in shaky pants. No, she had him and wasn’t going to miss the opportunity to take control over the smuggler. She stroked from tip to base, massaging him and drawing out his grunts with each movement. His fingers pulled out of her and gripped her thigh, smearing her own arousal all over the skin and digging in tight enough to bruise. “Fuck,” Joel hissed into her neck and she let go of the pillow she had been gripping with her free hand, combing through his hair and running nails along his scalp. She wanted to tear him open with her claws, rip away the hardened shell he’d built around himself and climb into him. Force some vulnerability to the surface in the same way he had with her. Revenge maybe, but the word didn’t feel right. He pushed himself up and finally met her gaze, their breath mingling as their eyes found each other in the dark. She wasn’t sure what he was looking for, felt almost more exposed than when his fingers were deep inside her. But she didn’t break her stride, didn’t blink or look away. She met him head on and it reminded her of that first day they had met. Saving Ellie, killing that man with a baseball bat, equal amounts of fury and brokenness meeting the other. A mirror. Joel grit his teeth and she watched the words “fuck it” shape on his lips but never forming sound before his lips were on hers. She hadn’t been expecting it. Kissing was for intimacy and this wasn’t that. But the kiss wasn’t gentle or soft or tentative, instead a clash that shook their bones. He was trying to devour her and she was trying to dominate him, his weight pressing down into her fully. She moaned into his mouth and hooked a leg around his waist, trying to draw him in as close as possible with her hand still tangled in his hair. She couldn’t define his taste. It was…Joel. Earthy and sweet and intoxicating. His tongue discovered every crevice of her mouth, sliding along hers, and she tugged at his hair until a hiss danced along their lips. Kissing Joel Miller was dangerous in its addiction. Her lungs burned and she thought she could taste copper, blood, but she couldn’t get enough, wanting to swallow every innocuous sound that left his throat because they were the only pieces of himself he let go of freely. She palmed his member, massaging it and feeling how desperate he was for release, before finally pulling away enough to whisper against him, “You can either fuck my hand or you can fuck me, Miller. What’s it gonna be?” He groaned as she squeezed him harder, hips jerking, “Jesus Christ…” Then his hands were tugging her underwear down in answer and he was on top of her fully between her thighs, lips bruising while she released him and helped yank his sweatpants down. It was frantic, hands clawing, teeth biting. A desperation she hadn’t felt in a while, only akin to when things were life or death and she was fighting for her life.

Practicality had gone out the window and she wasn’t sure when it had happened. She felt alive, sharp and bright, and that had her fully pulling him to her, feeling him slide along her wet core heavy and pulsing and so fucking good. Joel braced himself with an elbow beside her head, muscles straining, hand gripping her hair tightly to keep her lips against his. His other fist pumped himself, sliding against her clit and drawing breathless moans into his mouth. There was no discussion about going slow, about making sure she was ready or stretched enough for him. That required a level of care, affection. No, that wasn’t them. Inside he hitched her leg higher around his waist and pushed into her fast and rough. Both of them groaned at the stretch, at the way he filled her completely, teeth swallowing the sounds. It never left their mouths, wasn’t for the world to hear, simply passed from one to the other like a secret. Her arms wrapped around his neck, pulling him flush against her as he started to move. The proximity had him grinding against her, the rough hairs at his base adding friction and sending sparks through her. It was fast and bordered on painful, but it only heightened the feeling for her. She didn’t want him to be gentle with her, didn’t want to be handled like a doll.

She needed to feel something even if it was pain and god, if the man didn’t cause every single inch of her to alight with fire. “Fucking hell,” he whispered against her, the words a growl as he broke from her mouth and pressed his forehead to her shoulder, “Feel so fucking good.” His thrusts were beginning to lose their rhythm, going faster and harder as if he was aiming to tear her in half. She only wrapped both legs around his waist, hooking them at the ankle, the silent promise that she was fully along for the ride until the end. “This better than me on my knees, Miller,” she hissed, fingers tightening on his curls. He gripped the back of her head and drove deeper into her almost in answer, “Shut the fuck up, darlin’.” There was a reply on her lips but it never managed to escape, his lips crushing hers as they both began to hit the edge. She pulsed and tightened around him as her orgasm hit her like a freight train, lightning searing every nerve and dragging Joel down with her. He came hard with her, his warm release filling her and coating both of them as he fucked her through the last waves and aftershocks of their climax. Their breathless pants wrapped around them and painted their lips, a few centimeters apart but not fully pulled away from the other. She could feel him twitching inside of, was drowning in his scent and that familiar whiff of sex that clung to them. Even with his weight bearing down onto her, she felt good, filled to the brim, awake. Joel groaned, forehead against hers, sweat trickling down his neck and into the collar of his shirt, “Fuck.” “Ditto,” she mumbled, trying to catch her breath, releasing her tight grip on his hair and sliding it along his bag. He almost shivered at the slight caress. “I should have pulled out,” he frowned, brow furrowed as reality started to sink in. “It’s fine,” she answered heavily and fell back fully against the pillow, neck stretched beneath him, “Can’t get pregnant. Plumbing don’t work.” Her sentences were stuttered, short and to the point as a clear indication that it wasn’t a topic she wanted to elaborate on. It was the smallest admittance of something personal, a rarity between them, and he filed it away in the back of his mind.

He nodded and lifted himself up, only giving her a small warning before sliding himself from her. They both groaned at the sensation and loss of warmth, laying on their backs side by side under the blanket. The air was much cooler on their sweat slicked skin and in the back of her mind she was thankful that at least she’d get to take a shower in the morning. A second later though, her thoughts were cut off when Joel grabbed her and tugged her closer into his side, her arm across his chest. She froze, not quite expecting him to even acknowledge her after the deed was done, much less want to touch her. His ankle was still wrapped around hers and the threadbare shirt was soft under her cheek, his hand resting on her shoulder. “Didn’t take you for a cuddler,” the words lacked their usual mocking tone or bite, bordered on unsurety. This was out of her comfort zone and she was stiff, in unfamiliar territory with the smuggler. Sex and rage she knew, but not…whatever this was. “Shut up and go to sleep, Red,” Joel’s eyes were already closed, breathing relaxed and even. He wasn’t rising to take the bait, all the fight gone out of him. Biting her lip, she sighed. And true to his word, she followed him into slumber quickly after, leaving the new aspect of their relationship to ponder in the daylight.

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x oc #joel miller x feral reader #tlou #tlou fanfiction #tlou fanfic #the last of us #the last of us fanfiction #the last of us fanfic #raicodoll writes #fic: monsters #fic: teeth #Feral Reader Series #I guess that's what we're calling it now lol #OC: Red #joel miller #series: feral

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nuclearanomaly · 1 year

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I'm glad you're here with me At the end of all things...

#ffxiv #Endwalker #Ninira Nira #Estinien #Estinien Wyrmblood #Estinien Varlineau #Estinien x wol #wolstinien #art: mine #I started this picture 2000 years ago #I remember wanting to experiment with a different render style and surprise! getting frustrated #so it's been sitting as a sketch since #then the other day Cyan was like hey this song gave me Estinini vibes #And I was like l o l slides Estinini playlist back across the table and circles Sans Soleil like that's because it is #and I was like man I should go back to that picture #and just kinda yolo the render bc beating myself up about not being successful in my last render will never get it done #so here it is in the usual idk what's happening slap colours everywhere flavour #Nini could have used a bit more work re getting her size right maybe but we're not caring right now #I DID it at least checks the box and somehow does another piece of art in under a month idk what's happening rn energy I guess #Ultima Thule makes me normal #This part of MSQ was f i n e :')

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faeriekit · 1 year

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Health and Hybrids (VI)👽👻💚

[I can't remember the original prompt posters for the life of me but here's a mashup between a cryptid!Danny, presumed-alien!Danny, dp x dc, and whatever prompt made the one body horror meat grinder fic.]

PART ONE is here PART TWO is here PART THREE is here PART FOUR is here and PART FIVE is here and this is part six💚 Ao3 Is here for all parts

Where we last left off... Danny and Bart are bros now. The Speedsters chat about the horribly injured entity their kid has decided is like a...pet? Theydk?

Trigger warnings for this story: body horror | gore | post-dissection fic | dehumanization (probably) | my awful attempts at following DC canon. On with the show.

💚👻👽👻💚

Danny wakes up to an unbridled wave of nostopdon’t.

…He rouses. His lungs flutter.

Danny flinches.

There’s something— it’s large and it’s green in a way that humans are not and it’s taller and wider than Danny’s human and the space it makes in Danny’s senses—

The red human Danny is too attached to now buzzes to his bedside, spilling worrywor/rynerv/ous all over Danny’s section of this abandoned hospital. His muscles tighten up to compensate; and when the green not-human adult gets closer, Danny pushes himself forward on his elbows— closer to his vibrating human, closer to a defensive formation.

The green thing moves and Danny can’t see the gesture. He bristles.

And then

Danny’s skull spl

its

down the middle.

Everything hurts and everything is on fire.

Danny screams.

And he screams.

And—

Danny isn’t moving— everything else moves when Danny screams but he isn’t moving— the fast human has gotten even faster and they’re zooming through the building, through rooms and past adult humans that Danny has never seen, and all Danny can do is sink his claws into the human and hope that it stays. That Danny stays. In its arms, and not next to— that.

The fast-buzzing human finds a dark room.

It shoves Danny and itself inside. Good.

They hide.

Even better.

Someone comes to the door, and Danny can feel the frigid heat of a blast forming in his fingers. But it’s only two of the humans Danny has already met. And another young human.

This one has light hair, he thinks. It shines in the light spreading out from the cracked doorway.

They talk and they don’t crowd his space but to be honest Danny would rather they did. There’s something horrible out there, and he knows these humans aren’t that bad and whatever green thing out there certainly is. They should all be safe in this nice dark room.

He makes a grabby hand. Come here. Get closer.

…One of them does. Great! Danny gently bats at it with his knuckles until it joins them underneath the table. Danny puts the buzzing human in front of him and his new human behind him, so that he’s in the middle. There’s layers now. They can’t all get wiped out at once.

Danny makes grabby hands at the other. It makes a huffy sort of vibration. Probably a laugh. Stupid. Doesn’t it notice that they’re in danger??

Danny whips a very sharp comehererightnowbetween them— not lashing, but not gentle. They are in danger. Come here.

Thankfully, the last two obey—Danny’s pretty sure he’s being humored, but that doesn’t matter. Not as long as they’re all under the table. And safe.

The buzzing human’s anxious vibrations slowly move out into a slower, calmer boredom, and that’s fine, because boredom means that it doesn’t think they’re in danger. No one has found them yet and the humans are twitchy and nervous.

One of the darker-dressed humans says something. Danny can’t tell what it says, exactly, but he can turn his head to listen. The words flow around him like water. Someone else murmurs something else.

A human hand bats at Danny’s. Danny flinches. It—is it fighting?? Are they fighting??

They don’t start…hitting. But they keep batting at Danny’s hands, very carefully avoiding his claws, and—oh. They want to play. And they probably want to play quietly, so they’re being smart about not getting caught. Ugh. If Danny had his toys, they wouldn’t be so bored. This is almost worse than boredom.

…Fine. Danny’s claws don’t exactly retract like an animal’s, but they’re not so essential to his being that they’re formed and present all the time. The sharp shapes of his claws shift in the darkness, until they’re only blunt nails: suitable for playing.

All the humans make very excited noises under their breath. It’s all very interesting or something. It can’t be that special. Danny sees other ghosts reshape little bits of themselves all the time.

The quiet human in red gently lifts up Danny’s hands with its own. It gently tosses Danny’s hands in the air, so that they clap together very quietly once they fall down onto its own. Danny lets it happen. They’re this close to him anyway. They’re probably not a threat.

(The real threat is outside, anyway.)

Then his hands get flipped over. The human gently bats its hands against Danny’s, extremely careful not to anger him enough to claw. They do this a couple times before Danny figures the game out.

Oh. It’s a hand game—Danny even knows this one. It’s Ms. Mary Mack. The quiet one whispers the right tune under its breath.

Once Danny knows it, it’s easy to gently follow the motions. He surprises them when he knows the motions as well as they do; his wrists hurt when he goes too fast, or when the human kids do—when they push too hard, Danny makes himself intangible, to their delight—but he can be gentle, and eventually everyone else is gentle, and they carefully plot out Mrs. Mary Mack and a veeeery slow version of Concentration.

It’s all very fun, right up until the Large Green Not-Human pushes itself through the floor.

Danny pulls his hands back, unsheathes his claws, and shrieks.

Everyone yells and everyone gets closer—it’s a defensive formation and that’s good but it’s not enough if he needs space to help defend them—and everything is loud and upsetting and Danny’s already hurt but he can fight and he will—

—Apology, Apology— something whispers, infinitely quieter than the attack Danny had suffered.

He bolts upright. What? Oh, oh no. It wants to talk to him. Danny does not want to talk back. NonononoGoAWAY.

The giant green thing backs off. Danny gets a distinct sensation of —Questions, Answers— sent to him. The feeling is accompanied by a procession of Danny’s own memories: the stars from the base, the container he’d woken up in, his bed nest and all the waste in it.

Danny winces further back under the table. Just because he likes his cot and feels safe in it doesn't mean it isn't gross. It is gross. But everything is going to be gross until all of his insides are actually inside of him again, and not squished up in his more liquid form.

The quickfasthuman darts in front of Danny, as if it is going to be any defense against whatever this creature is, and starts yelling in its little human voice. Danny keens.

—Care, Concern— flows towards him. With it comes Danny’s memories of the buzzing human bandaging him, a flesh-tone bandage stretching across the hole where more of his nose ought to be.

…Danny stills. It’s. That’s.

It’s a very gentle emotion. Maybe the thing is…lying…? But if it was, Danny would be able to feel it. Right?

There are more thoughts and feelings that come by, first very quietly and softly, and then a little too fast to track as the being get ahead of itself. When Danny pulls away, it slows down, and the flow becomes manageable again.

The Earth. Green and peaceful.

Space. —Home. Home—

This base that Danny is on. On it are faces that the green being can see, that Danny can’t— but in its memory it shares, all of them are welcoming and friendly with…their coworker. This being.

(Is this an alien?!)

(The being pauses in its recollection. It feels distinctly —Amused, Amused—. And then Danny gets space memories!! Of Mars!!!)

He carefully eases his claws out of the carpet. Okay. This is pretty cool. Danny’s getting the hang of this.

He (thinks? Successfully?) bounces back a memory of his first room, his first shuttle model of the Atlantis, the glow in the dark stars on his ceiling.

The alien (Alien!!!) treats him to a memory of his own offsprings’ resting places in his home. On Mars.

Danny doesn’t even argue when his buzzing human tries to pick him up. They can break formation. It’s fine. Danny purrs and purrs with his core. For the first time in months and months, someone can speak to him properly. Someone wants to speak to him.

What Danny thinks matters.

The stranger invites Danny into a mutual conversation, and Danny accepts.

Danny sinks himself into a memory of the earth, as seen from the upper atmosphere. The stars were all-encompassing there. He misses flying.

The Martian sends him a memory of a crashed…

…Oh. Danny squeezes further under the table. That’s the Specter Speeder. From the stranger's eyes, his crash into the dirt looks so bad. That’s…that crash hurt him. He’s still hurt. Still so bad.

Even the alien’s —Concern, Fear, Worry— isn’t a comfort.

The Martian replays the memory of the bandaids again. And then a new memory: the laboratory where Danny woke up.

The room was full of nervous humans in scrubs and lab coats, all of whom were nervous, nervous, fussing over problems like safe food and adequate oxygen and sanitary environment and please, please be okay. Danny’s empathy is limited to other empathetic beings, but the humans' thoughts and worried faces are bare and transparently clear to the alien.

…Oh.

Danny thinks of the young humans crowded around him, trying to keep him comfortable and safe, even when the alien knows that the humans know that he isn’t a threat. But that they worry for Danny anyway, because he’s scared and unhappy and in pain.

Oh, Danny thinks. …Oh.

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imminent-danger-came · 8 months

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The 1x00 AHiB -> 4x06 glowup

#this just reminded me I need to make a ''being there for your friends when they need you'' post #because that shit is EVERYWHERE #LIKE THAT'S ALL THEY FUCKING TALK ABOUT #''It's okay sandy! You're always there for us when we need you. The least we can do is be there for you when you need us.'' (4x06)#''No! Mei is my best friend. I'd never abandon her when she needs me—we're heroes! It's what we do!'' (3x10)#''You don't know! We'd risk it for sure! I won't abandon them when they need us'' (4x02)#''As long as I'm doing something to help out a friend- I don't mind what it is! I just want to be there for 'em when they need me.'' (2x08)#''Wukong only values people by how useful they are to him'' (3x08)#''No no honestly—this is exactly what I need right now. I'm trapped under a mountain- but the 6-earred macaque brought me a peach!''#(4x11)#Literally just the shit off of the top of my head #and then. And then that in contrast with #''I get it. I'd do anything for my friends! But at the cost of the world?'' LIKE GOD DAMMIT LEGOS #You took the basic bitch ''Help you friends'' theme and went ''But what if helping your friend hurt others'' like come on man #Hello #Where am I #I'm dying. I'm dying #Okay imma go do hw......I guess....whatever....#lmk #lego monkie kid #lmk parallels #lmk Sandy #lmk Mei #lmk Pigsy #lmk Tang #OH GOD ALSO. ''I will become someone they can depend on...the way I can always depend on them!'' (3x08)#AND #''But you're always there when I need you- so it's time for me to return the favor!'' (2x04)#Which also just ties into ''we'll figure this out together'' as a whole right #what. ever.

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coconut530 · 4 months

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youtube

#Sleep Token #Youtube #i don't #i don't cry from music often #and i guess i still haven't considering what this was #but the intro monologue to this performance #made me burst into tears in under 60 seconds just now #first it was slow #just teared up a little bit... i didn't even realize what it was saying.. much less that it was from HIM #and then he said something and it was full on sobbing #I'd go check again to tell you what it was but I just pulled myself back together and I can't like do that again #what the frick...#like vessel doesn't talk during performances ever bc y'know he's possessed by whatever gave him some of the coolest music in existence #so this monologue like touches all the more... he's SPEAKING to US #THANKING US #for listening to the music that he -in this case- put so much of his pain into #he knows we're thankful for them #but he's also thankful for us #and then like as the song goes on he just pounds those keys and screams those lyrics and the vesselette has to go check on him at the end #like frick if that doesn't mess you up... aguuuuuuuhhhhhhhhhh #...#I just wanted to see what a live performance of bloodsport was and apparently I clicked on the worst one bc nowhere else does this play #sleep token thank you

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tompoose · 1 month

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if you had to smite from the earth either nixon or garfield who would you eliminate. history will continue unchanged except if you smite nixon all the nixon memes disappear and if you smite garfield the orange cat goes with him

I would sacrifice anything that is dear to me to scrub this animal from all the veins of culture that it has slithered into. I was frustrated with the Garfield comic strip from the twentieth of August, 2024.

Jim Davis has given up trying to claw from the mud. He has drawn a cat looking at the reader and telling a wet joke. By making Garfield a mere static image to surround text, Davis has taken the work of his heart and lowered it to the level of the borders that surround a pop up window. My feelings on this topic eclipse and obliterate any other nuances to your question. If ever presented a shot at this king, I would take it.

#If we're being serious #I've been finding Garfield an interesting person to read about #as far as I can tell he isn't openly evil in the ways that US presidents and politicians tend to be #and in many ways is virtuous‚ extremely academic‚ fought in the civil war‚ he just seems to be a decent guy who was president for a bit #who knows what he'd done if he hadn't been shot though.#otherwise gilded age politics are fucking bananas and its very entertaining to learn about them #entirely believable that they were using the same system that we use now because the same shit happens #Nixon on the other hand is a monster. He's pop culture's caricature of an evil president #I find him fascinating for very different reasons‚ partly because we have so much on him with all the phone conversations he recorded #there's something really cool about being able to hear how the president verbally reacted when hearing about something big over the phone #https://youtu.be/WwBD49fD1UM?si=j-uWUbM0L0M0OUqS #incredible privilege to be able to listen to some of his drunken phone calls #and we have so many more photos of him than Garfield too #his administration was wacky and I'd love to read more about it #bizarre stuff went on in his white house and his mind #I guess I don't know what my answer would be

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lunarharp · 10 months

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qifrey's birthday and silly stuff

#witch hat tag #orufrey #excerpt is from my 30k failing eye fic (link in pinned) which has a birthday scene. i revisited and edited it again and it is now 30k :)#kerplunk thing is because of a mysterious game that shirahama has drawn orufrey playing before and to me it looks like Kerplunk.#a kids' game from this 'Real World' which we live in. card game is Cheat from neopets. but it's a real game. i want to play it for real....#you lie and cheat in it..hence the name..and 'branston the eyrie you are a bold one' classic neopets tumblr post...no....ok then.....#'hey qif i know we're obsessed with witches' kerplunk but we used to play cheat all the time what happened to that??'#'oh. i just..don't like lying to you. i don't like how it feels.' 'oh haha i guess that's a good thing. ok let's play kerplunk instead ^_^'#'mm. *dying inside crying in the rain in my soul*'#i dislike trying to illustrate my writing. i resent myself for having described oru's captivating mysterious smile so perfectly #i can't draw that. i know what it looks like perfectly in my mind and i am right there on that roof but i can't draw it satisfyingly enough #writing comes from a different part of my brain. there's different things in there. i'm glad i wrote out some of what i can't draw.#then there are things that i don't write or draw but which are still a crucial ongoing facet of my orufrey mindscape.#the Written orufrey the Drawn orufrey and the Unspoken orufrey... three faces of a beautiful irreplaceable jewel in my heart...#could a depressed person do THAT.

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megumi-fm · 3 months

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#i have so much to tell my past self but she'll never get to hear it so i guess ill keep this here for future meg.#hi. remember when we applied for our dream uni for undergrad and we couldn't make it?#remember when the first two years of uni when everything got so terrible that you didn't even think youd make it to the end of the year?#well. guess what. we made it <3 #yeah. we made it through.#with a year off and some recalibration and a good internship we managed to get back on track!#and we did well!! we got better and we were able to perform better and we got our gpa up and we got two good journal publications and #we made a lot of good friends this time around <3 and we have a lot of people on our side now <3 #it doesn't hurt like it used to. crazy. it doesn't hurt at all.#and remember dream uni? yeah. we're going there for our masters now :))#dear past meg. im so proud of you for holding on. i hope you're proud of me too <3 #we're living the days we dreamed of <3 #and dear future meg. i hope that when things get tough you remember the things you've managed to overcome.#you're tough as nails. you got this <3 #megumi in the tags #will end up making this a proper gratitude post soon but for now. here it is

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dreamlogic · 3 months

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i have no clue what's going on w/ the hiring process for the job offer i got yesterday, but at least it seems like nobody at the post office does either. 🙃

#ctxt #charlie vs mail #got a call from some guy at the regional sorting facility like 'uuh yeah just drop in to your PO whenever for fingerprinting'#so i show up in shorts & a t-shirt as a stop along a multi-errand trip bc my impression was that this is just a part of the background check #woman doing my prints was like 'idk if anyone's here to speak with you today but we can check'#me still thinkin it's just a casual meet/greet 'oh no worries haha! btw i got the job offer before having even 1 interview is that normal?'#she doesn't know but leads me around until we find someone buried under a stack of paperwork at her desk #'hi [redacted!] charlie is here for their interview!'#redacted peers over his monitor like a deer in headlights 'who is here for their what now??? oh uuuhh gimme a minute uuuhhhhh'#i'm sweatinnnmng like i'm wearing my birks i am massively underprepared but ok i guess we're doing this & they already offered me the job so #redacted also seemed to be panicking a lil bc the person who usually does these interviews isn't even in today #we had a moment of 'so we're both utterly blindsided here right?' 'yeah can we reschedule?' 'yes god please let's reschedule'#so i'm going back thursday for an actual interview. after already completing background check & filling out tax paperwork #get home to an email from the dude who called me this morning like 'btw dress business casual for your fingerprinting & bring XYZ'#but still stating nowhere that the implication was that fingerprinting & interview would happen concurrently????#this is a federal institution & the second largest employer in the US. get ur shit together !!!#hoping it's not gonna be a black mark that i showed up in my casual summer clothes without the necessary docs #but tbf to me the expectations were hella unclear like i wasn't even given a point of contact for an onboarding supervisor until today #since they were also drastically underprepared i hope it'll just be water under the bridge & we can properly meet thursday #hands down weirdest hiring/onboarding process i've ever gone through but fuck it we ball

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muselexum · 29 days

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#time literally isn't real #UHHH anyway gonna get to some drafts/inbox stuff today <33 #how yall doing? <3 #I've started creating day schedules for myself because my executive dysfunction has been getting out of control #have kind of come to terms I cant really do well or get anything done without a planned out schedule so I'm learning to do that myself #which sounds kind of silly at my big age. but i guess i've just always had someone to tell me what to do whether it was school or work #( and the obligation and responsibilities to anyone outside of myself as a motivator to perform )#so now like 6 months in to unemployment ive just had the click of like 'oh.. i can literally just... do stuff. anything'#so anyway im starting to make an agenda for myself which includes blocked out times for creative hours cause apparently #if my life isn't miserable enough i just don't have the desire or sustained motivation to touch art outlets at all #has anyone ever struggled with this??#i think i used art as escapism my whole life so now im trying to rewire my brain #ive had art block from time to time in my life but i think im just starting to realize what's going on here this time around #and we're gonna fix it!!#i think it's time to shift from art coming from inspiration/maladaptive daydreaming to just making it a routine practice #i fear my work might not come out as good but at least i can still 'have' art in my life this way #wow ok rambling anyway heading over to my drafts :D

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tangledinink · 1 year

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Leo frowned a bit. “You know I already tried melatonin, right?” “It’s not melatonin, dummy,” Mikey sighed, rolling his eyes as he twisted the pill bottle open, grabbing Leo’s hand so that he could shake one of the little gummies out into his palm. “It’s weed. Obviously.”

Leo and Mikey take edibles. That's it, that's the whole fic. :) A TMWN one-shot; takes place prior to main fic, so no need to be caught up! Read it on ao3 or below the cut!

Though Leo had, admittedly, been a bit jumpy and out of it today, (okay, fine, the past few days,) he was still pretty sure he was justified in his yelp when a hand latched onto his wrist, yanking him sharply inside the apartment as soon as the front door was open and hip-checking it shut behind him.

“Jesus CHRIST, Mikey! Were you waiting for me to get home just so you could do that!? Is this supposed to be revenge for the thing with your Twitter account and profile pic? ‘Cause that was definitely Donnie and not me--”

“The thing with the what now?! What’d you-- you know what, nevermind. Shut up,” Mikey said, promptly darting past Leo and ducking under his arm in order to lock the door shut behind him.

Leo blinked slowly.

“Dude. What are you doing?”

Mikey turned to face him, his hands on his hips.

“Is Donnie at his robotics meet?”

“... Yeah?”

“And Dad, too?”

“Yeah? Mikey--”

“And Raph is at football practice?”

“Angie, what is your deal?” Leo sighed loudly, scrubbing at his face tiredly as he tilted his head back in annoyance. What the fuck was with Mikey all of a sudden!? And why was he being interrogated? Like, okay, look, he knew that he kind of spooked him the other day with that whole… falling down the stairs thing. But he was totally fine! Just some bruises. It was so not that big of a deal! Leo just… hadn’t been paying attention.

… And, yeah, okay, sure. You could, in theory, argue that the fact that he hadn’t slept for more than three hours or so in about as many days had something to do with that. But that was all just conjecture! They had no evidence!

“Good,” Mikey said, quite decisively, clapping his hands together and narrowing his eyes at the other, his lips pursed as he stared at him for just a moment before he pointed at him, almost accusingly.

“You need to sleep.”

Oh, great. Here we go. Leo rolled his eyes, bristling.

“Wow, seriously? You think so? What a crazy smart suggestion! And so unique and original! Gosh, thank you, Miguel, I never would have thought of that on my own! Sleeping! That’s a great idea! I’ll go do that now, since it’s so simple and easy to do, except actually no it’s not!” He hissed, throwing his arms up in annoyance.

What, did he think he didn’t try? Because he had tried desperately! He would love to be sleeping right now! He had spent countless hours over the past week staring at the ceiling in his dark room, meditating, and listening to the endless droning of sleep podcasts. He had guzzled down melatonin like it was going out of style to no avail. He had taken trazodone, for god’s sake, and even that didn’t put him down for more than an hour or two.

Mikey pouted, crossing his arms over his chest and pursing his lips, giving the other a long look.

“Are you done yet?”

Leo scowled.

He blinked slowly at the other.

He crossed his arms over his chest, too, echoing the other’s posture.

And then finally he grumbled and nodded.

“Okay, good. C’mon,” Mikey replied quickly, grabbing Leo’s wrist once more and heading up the stairs at a hurried pace. Leo swore softly, stumbling a bit, but followed and kept pace anyway, jogging up to the second floor and following his brother, who didn’t slow down until they were in his room, the door shut behind him.

“Okay,” Mikey said, turning once again to face the other, reaching over to grab him by his shoulders. “You need to sleep. We agree on this. Right?”

Leo raised a brow. “... Right?”

“And you trust me. Right?”

“... Yeah?”

“Because I’m your brother. We’re family.”

“... As far as I’m aware…” Leo said slowly, narrowing his eyes.

“And you!” Mikey added in, pointing accusingly. “Are the one who taught me the snitches get stitches rule, right? That’s your rule. You are the main enforcer of said rule! So you believe in the rule! Right?”

“Mikey, what are you--”

“True or false, Leo!”

“... Yeah. Okay. True. What the fuck are you about to try to do to me, Miguel?” He sighed. “Because if your intention is to knock me out via blunt force trauma, Donnie and I already tried that--”

“Okay, well, we’ll unpack that later,” Mikey chirped cheerily, shoving Leo in the general direction of the bed, gesturing to him a bit before he darted off. Leo pouted, but sat down anyway, kicking his shoes off and curling up. If Mikey was gonna try to hypnotize him or something after all this drama, he was going to be so fucking mad.

Slumped down against the copious amounts of pillows and stuffed animals (his collection rivaled only by Raph’s,) on Mikey’s bed, he watched as his baby brother threw open his closet, kicking a storage bin over to hop up on top of. Once he had the necessary height from his make-shift step-stool, he reached up, rummaging around for a bit on the top shelf. After a bit of shuffling and rearranging he finally pulled down a milk crate, and from that, he fished out a small painted chest-- one that Leo recognized as his music box from when they were little, decorated with little painted rainbows and unicorns on every side that, no, Leo had not been jealous of when Mikey got it at the age of six, thank you very much.

Holding the music box under one arm, Mikey hopped back down and scampered over to re-join Leo on the bed. Inside the music box was an even smaller box-- this one Leo pegged as the box for the tarot cards Mikey had convinced April to buy him at that craft fair they went to two summers ago. He did readings with them from time to time, just for fun, not that Leo thought that they really meant anything. They were more a pretty trinket than anything else. Though Leo noted quietly to himself, didn’t Mikey keep his cards in a little velvet pouch, actually, now that he thought about it?

“Mikey, if you actually think now is a good time to do a tarot reading--”

“Well, I could after this if you want,” Mikey said brightly in reply, and when he cracked open the tarot card deck, there were, in fact, not any cards inside at all. Rather, there was a little orange bottle that Leo immediately clocked as one from one of Mikey’s Adderall prescriptions. But after a slightly closer inspection, he could already see that there weren’t any pills inside said bottle.

It looked more like candy.

Leo frowned a bit.

“You know I already tried melatonin, right?”

“It’s not melatonin, dummy,” Mikey sighed, rolling his eyes as he twisted the pill bottle open, grabbing Leo’s hand so that he could shake one of the little gummies out into his palm. “It’s weed. Obviously.”

Leo stayed quiet for a moment, silently processing this.

And then his mouth fell open into a perfect ‘o.’

“HAMATO MICHELANGELO--”

“YOU AGREED!” Mikey shrieked, rearing back to point wildly at the other. “YOU ALREADY AGREED TO NO SNITCHING! NO BACKSIES!!!”

“Where the fuck did you get edibles!?” Leo cried.

Mikey threw up his hands in response. “I’m in the art club, Leo!!!”

Leo gasped. “Sarah is a weed dealer, isn’t she?! I totally called it!!!”

“No!” Mikey protested. “... Well, okay, yeah. But I get mine from Kody. So I think you only get half points?”

“Oh my god,” Leo gaped. “Since when!?”

“Likkeeee, last February?”

“What?!”

“You are being, like, so much less chill about this than I thought you’d be,” Mikey sighed, crossing his arms over his chest and pouting. “Look. It’s not a big deal! I promise! It’s, like, a special occasion once-every-few-months kind of thing. And at least for me,” he gestured to himself. “I always end up passing out, like… so hard,” he explained. “You don’t gotta take any if you don’t want to! I’m just saying. It might help. And you haven’t tried it yet. Sooo…”

He sort of shrugged.

Leo frowned, narrowing his eyes slightly.

Okay. Well.

On one hand… If he got caught, by either their dad or by, like, anyone involved in any of his many copious sports teams, he’d definitely be in, like… so much trouble.

On the other hand… Mikey had gone this long without getting caught. And Mikey was, like, way less sneaky than he was. And what were the odds that he was going to be subjected to a drug test or something anytime in the near future, really? He had never been drug tested before, (just threatened with it,) and they were still really early in the season, before any big, high-stakes meets or matches would be cropping up…

And Mikey did have a point. He hadn’t tried it yet. And it might help. And he did, like… really wanna sleep.

Like. So bad.

… And also. I mean. It’s not like he wasn’t curious.

---

How long until they kick in? He had asked. I dunno if it’s working, he had said. Maybe it wasn’t enough-- should I take another? He had questioned. (No, Mikey had said.)

(That was probably for the best.)

“Mikey.”

“Hm?”

“I want a peanut butter jelly sandwich, like… so much,” Leo muttered dimly, staring up at the ceiling of Mikey’s room. He had been examining the little glow-in-the-dark stars up there for a while there, noting that it had been some time since he had actually taken notice of them. Man. They were so cool. He should get some for his room. Note to self: ask Dad about that later.

Mikey was flopped over on the bed with him, his head sort of laid across Leo’s ankles as he drew something in his sketchbook, and he glanced over at his brother, smirking a little and raising a brow.

“We have the stuff to make one if you want,” he pointed out. (I mean, technically, they only kept almond butter in the house, because this was a peanut-free space, thank you very much, but basically the same thing.)

“Fuck yes,” Leo enthused. “I love those things, dude. Do we have-- do we have the raspberry jelly? ‘Cause that shit is honestly so good.”

“Yeah, I’m pretty sure,” Mikey hummed, setting his sketchbook to the side so that he could begin to get up.

“Hey,” Leo said, frowning a bit as he rolled over onto his side. “... I think grape jelly is a scam.”

Mikey snorted softly, raising a brow. “Uh, elaborate?”

“Okay,” Leo agreed, eager to lay out his logic. “What’s your favorite fruit?”

“I mean, I don’t not like grapes--”

“No no no no!” Leo protested, shaking his head sharply. “What’s your favorite fruit though?”

“Uhmmmm,” Mikey tilted his head to the side for a second. “Cantaloupe. Or lychee! Or mango. It’s a three-way tie,” he declared, and Leo pointed a finger.

“Exactly!” He cried. “Exactly! See? No one’s favorite fruit is grapes! Like-- they don’t exist! No one’s favorite fruit is grapes!”

Mikey laughed. “So?”

“So!” Leo threw out his hands. “No one would want to get grape jelly! ‘Cause it’s no one’s favorite fruit! There are so many other better fruits! So they had to figure out a way to get rid of all the grape jelly! So that’s why they tricked us all into thinking that grape jelly is, like. The jelly. And made peanut-butter-jelly sandwiches with grape jelly. Instead of any other jellies. Which are better. Because peanut-butter-jelly sandwiches with raspberry jelly is like? So much fucking better, dude. Or strawberry, even. Or anything! Because grapes are just okay! So they have to make the people think that that’s the default ‘cause otherwise grape jelly would be completely screwed, bro!”

“Wow,” Mikey hummed, grinning, resting his head in his hand as he stared at the other. “You are so high.”

Leo just giggled in response, letting his head fall back down, pointing at the other. “You did this to me, Angelo. This is your doing. You must reap what you’ve sown… You made me like this…!”

“Heck yeah I did,” Mikey confirmed, puffing out his chest proudly as he got up to his feet. “Come on. Do you want the sandwich or not?”

“Yessss…” Leo hummed, pulling himself up into a sitting position. Oh wow. Moving was great. Everything felt kind of tingly and wobbly in this really fun way? It was like one of those aluminum sheets that you wiggled and it made that really funny wub-wub-wub sound. Except, like… instead of just sound it was just…

Everything.

Yo, weed was kind of dope, actually.

“Yo, weed is kind of dope, actually.”

“I told you,” Mikey said, seeming rather smug with himself.

“I’m having a good time.”

“Yeah, it’s fun,” Mikey agreed, reaching to grab the other by the wrist, beginning to pull them up to their feet.

“Bro, why didn’t you take any? This is great. We could do a Smash Bros tournament except high,” Leo enthused, and Mikey scoffed, rolling his eyes.

“I can’t get high, I’m watching you!”

“Why?”

“I dunno. To make sure you don’t freak out or whatever. You’ve never been high before,” Mikey reasoned. “That’s just basic weed courtesy! It’s weed 101!”

Leo blinked slowly, considering this.

“Well, how long have I been high?”

Mikey shrugged a bit, fishing out his phone to check.

“Uhhh. Like. An hour and a half?”

“Well, then, am I good?”

“What do you mean?”

“Like, I probably would have freaked out already if I was gonna, right? So, like… am I good yet?”

Mikey wrinkled his nose, considering this for a bit.

“Well… I guess so. You’re probably fine.”

Leo reached over to grab his little brother’s shoulders, shaking him.

“Then let’s do Smash Bros Tournament except high!”

Mikey snorted, laughing loudly as he batted the other away.

“... Are you sure?”

“Yeah! I wanna do Smash Bros Tournament! Except high! I’m so good, Mikey! Lookit how hard I’m not freaking out! I’m being, like… so normal right now.”

Mikey seemed to consider this for a little bit, and then he shrugged.

“Yeah, okay.”

---

Leo had found that, in the time that he had been high thus far, he had a lot to say. He had a lot to think about and lots of thoughts to share with everyone around him (ie Mikey,) and while he overall just felt really cool and floaty and good, there was also an ever-so-slight element of brightness to it. Like-- everything was just kind of really funny right now. He was feeling very thoughtful and imaginative, so to speak. His brain was all scattered, but not in a way that felt bad-- just loose. He just wanted to discuss things! Like! Dude, IHOP? That place is the best. We should talk about that. And what’s better, pancakes or waffles? And dude, who do you think would win in, like, an actual for-real battle, Ho-Oh or Lugia? Be honest.

He was a bit surprised to find that Mikey, when high, wasn’t really any of those things.

For the most part, he was pretty normal.

Just… slowed down.

When they spoke now, it took just a tiny bit longer than usual for Mikey to respond, and his manner of speaking itself had shifted slightly to drag, allowing for longer pauses in between each word. He just seemed so very content and unbothered that he was in no rush to do anything at all, including thinking or speaking, and there was this slight shade of lazy amusement layered over everything he did. Leo, of course, found this all to be very funny. He spent a good deal of time just asking Mikey random questions and then giggling over the way he gave his answers, finding it absolutely delightful how he paused to think about it and then reported his opinion in this soft, humming tone.

And they were having so much fucking fun.

The pair of them were all piled together on the couch in The Lair, half tangled in each other’s limbs. The bid for pb-and-j had evolved into quite the cacophony of snacks, and the carnage of their munchies laid at their feet in tatters as they battled their way through their fourteenth round of Smash Bros.

“Dude, how do you keep beating me?” Leo whined, leaning in slightly towards the screen, as though that might help.

“‘Cause you always choose Kirby,” Mikey hummed in reply, slumping against the pillows in contrast. “And you suck at playing Kirby.”

“I do not!”

“Yeah-huh.”

“I’m great at Kirby. I’m the master of Kirby. Me and Kirby, we understand each other. We’re basically family. Kirby is basically my long-lost brother is how good I am at Kirby.”

“Then why do you keep losing?” Mikey countered lazily, grinning a little bit, and Leo giggled in response.

“You have an unfair advantage of not being high for the first time ever,” Leo countered, and Mikey just laughed in response.

“Kirby is cool. He’s like-- a little guy. The coolest little round dude ever. I love that dude. And I can make him blue!” Leo enthused. “And he’s. Like. My dude. Once you find your guy, you have to stick with that guy, Mikey! It’s. Like… a calling. You’ll understand when you’re older.”

“You’re only a year older than me.”

“Okay? So, like… give it a year.”

Mikey snorted softly, shaking his head a bit and sticking out his tongue as he wrapped up the game neatly, murdering the shit out of blue Kirby and bringing home yet another Smash Bros victory. Leo groaned loudly, flopping back over the couch and kicking his legs up, comfortably contorting himself into an absolutely asinine position-- one of his favorite things to do.

“We should play Mario Kart next. I’ll beat you at Mario Kart.”

“Yeah, okay,” Mikey agreed easily, waving a hand a bit. “Put it on then.”

“Why do I gotta do it?”

“‘Cause I gave you free weed.”

Leo groaned loudly, rolling his eyes. “Yeah, okay, finneeeeeee,” he mumbled, getting to his feet, (with only a little bit of a wobble,) making his way over to the console so he could begin picking his way through their, quite frankly, ridiculous collection of video games, looking to fish out Mario Kart so he could get it set up.

And, like, yes, okay. Maybe he got a little bit distracted. But someone put the Red Dead Redemption 2 disc in the Cyberpunk case and obviously he could not let that stand! That needed to be corrected, like, immediately, and then the disc that was in the Red Dead Redemption case had to be relocated, too…

But, I mean, it didn’t take that long. Probably.

And now their DVDs were organized!

“Okay, all set,” Leo hummed, turning back around to face his brother… who had an absolute hundred-yard stare, gazing off into nothing with his mouth slightly agape. Leo frowned a bit.

“Mikey.”

Silence.

“... Mikey.”

Nope.

“... Mikey!”

There he is. Mikey blinked a bit in surprise, glancing back over at him, processing for a moment, and then laughing. “Oh. Sorry. I wasn’t listening. I just had a really cool idea for a mural… Hang on. I wanna sketch it out so I don’t forget…” He said, quickly fishing out his phone and beginning to draw with his finger, his tongue stuck out in concentration. Leo huffed a bit.

“Okay, fine, just don’t take forever. I wanna do stoned Mario Kart,” Leo insisted, moving to flop back over onto the couch, curling up on his side. Mikey gave a little hum in response, but didn’t spare him much else, clearly sucked into his project.

Leo did his best to entertain himself in the meantime. He scrolled blindly through Instagram for a while, liking a bunch of pics that he would probably get in trouble for later, though who’s really to say? Once he got bored with that, he drafted and deleted about eight different tweets, just barely managing to wrestle his inner demon down into its cage and exercise some impulse control. And he flicked through TikTok for a while, but didn’t really find anything of interest on his ForYou page. And Mikey was still going strong, so…

For a little bit. He was just. Bored.

He hummed softly, curled up on the couch, pulling at one of his curls absently and examining it as he went-- pulling it out straight, and then letting it bounce back, giggling a tiny bit to himself at the motion of it. He remembered when he was little and he and his brother’s would have arguments over who had the curliest hair-- as if it were really ever a competition. They’d do that for everything though-- always trying to see who was the ‘most’ or ‘best’ at any one thing.

He remembered, vaguely, back before April’s mom taught him how to do it properly, his dad sitting with them for hours in front of the computer, one by one, watching YouTube tutorials and trying to tame their hair for them. He smiled a bit at the thought. He had hated it at the time, whining about being bored and having to sit still, annoyed with his father messing with his hair and pulling at it… but now, the memory was… kind of sweet.

He hadn’t thought about that in a really long time, he thought vaguely to himself, sighing very softly.

It was almost weird to suddenly confront such an old, forgotten memory like that out of the blue. But not unwelcome. It was nice, actually, and he laid his head down against the pillows with a sigh, allowing himself to bask in the warmth of it for a while, running through images of his childhood, playing them on loop.

And somewhere along the way, he realized, vaguely in the back of his head, that he was sleepy.

Usually, at times like these, this moment would be followed swiftly by disappointment. He’d be laying in his bed, trying desperately to get to sleep, absolutely praying for it to take him and knock him the fuck out, and he’d realized that it was happening, he was getting sleepy-- only for the excitement of it to promptly kick a shot of adrenaline through his body, spooking the sensation and scaring it off, leaving him perfectly awake once more and writhing with frustration (which of course only worsened matters.)

But he didn’t feel that right now. He was just kind of aware of it, smiling the tiniest bit at the thought, curling up a bit tighter in on himself and wrapping his arms around the pillow he was snuggled up against to cling to.

Everything was so oddly calm. Pebbled and loose and wobbly, but in a good way, and right now, mostly just calm. And sleepy. His eyelids were heavy.

He couldn’t remember the last time he felt like this. Like he was sinking into sleep rather than fighting his way into it tooth and claw. Like it was inviting him in instead of him kicking down the door with a battle cry, bloody and bruised. He was just… ready to sleep. He was never ready to sleep.

Man, this was cool. Marijuana fucking slapped.

He played with his own hair for just a little longer before he yawned, humming very softly.

“Mmmm… Hey Mikey?”

“Yeah?” Mikey replied, after a long beat of delay, not looking up at him.

“‘M gonna go to sleep now, I think.”

“Okay. That’s a good idea.”

“Okay. Thanks.”

“Yeah. It’s cool. G’night.”

“G’night,” Leo mumbled, laying his head down and allowing his eyes to slide shut.

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