#visiting the old folks home

[fairyweeb202]

Going to the old folks home to say happy Thanksgiving to my papae, its so awkward to go there as a very gay trans punk polytheist because .. well a bunch of very old conservative catholics yaknow

[moophinz]

Do you think Kiryu in 8 is going to suffocate Ichiban as a protagonist? He did take the spotlight whenever he showed up in 7 after all, and they're banking on Kiryu harder than ever with remakes, adaptations and even new side games

I don’t really know if I’d say he did that, or that the studio is truly banking on him a lot. The remakes and remasters were due to the previous games’ ages. And Gaiden is supposed to be for newcomers who saw Kiryu and were like “Who????” I can say though that even if Kiryu wasn’t overshadowing Ichiban in the plot of 8 at all, he’d still be all certain members of fandom care about. It seems like there’s no escaping that no matter what which I do find irritating

[yokelfelonking]

Post 9/11 Trivia

Most folks on this site were either children on September 11, 2001, or weren’t even born yet.  But America went crazy for about a year afterwards.  Here’s some highlights that I remember that might not be in your history books:

There was national discussion on whether or not Halloween should be canceled because…fuck if I know why.  After planes crashed into buildings in NYC it follows that 6-year-olds in Iowa shouldn’t be allowed to dress up like Batman and ask their neighbors for candy, I guess.  (Halloween wasn’t canceled, by the way.)

On a similar note, people asked if comedy - any sort of comedy - was appropriate anymore, ever.

People sold shitty parachutes to suckers “in case your building gets attacked and you have to jump out the window.” There were honest-to-God news reports warning people not to jump out of the window with shitty mail-order parachutes because they wouldn't work.

As a follow-up to the attacks, someone mailed anthrax to some prominent politicians and news anchors - you know, famous people - along with some badly-written notes about “you cannot stop us, death to America, Allah is good” and after that every time some random dumbass found a package in the mail they didn’t recognize they thought that the terrorists were targeting them, too.

Everyone was similarly convinced that their town was going to be the next target, even if they were a little town in the middle of nowhere. "Our town of Bumblefuck, South Dakota (population 690) has the largest styrofoam pig statue west of the Mississippi! Terrorists might fly planes into that too! It's a prime target!"

People started taping up their windows and trying to make their houses or apartments airtight out of fear of chemical and biological attacks. There were news reports warning people that turning your house into an airtight box was a bad idea because, y'know, you need air to breathe.

"[X] supports terrorism!" and “if we do [X], the terrorists win!” were used as arguments for everything.  "Some rich Arab you never heard of donated to his organization that backs Hamas which backs al-Queda, and also owns stock in a holding company that has partial ownership of the Pringles company, so if you eat Pringles you're supporting terrorism!" "The terrorists want to tear down our freedoms and our way of life and rule us through fear! Eating what you want is one of our freedoms as Americans! If you're afraid to eat Pringles, the terrorists win!" (I promise you that this sort of argument is in no way hyperbole.) (This argument is how Halloween was saved, by the way.  “If we cancel Halloween, the terrorists win!”)

People worked 9/11 into everything, and I mean everything, whether it was appropriate or not.  If you went to the grocery store the tortilla chips would remind you to support the troops on the packaging. Used car sales would be dedicated to our brave first responders. You couldn't wipe your ass without the toilet paper rolls reminding you to never forget the fallen of 9/11, and again, this is not hyperbole. My uncle, who lived in Ohio and had never been to New York except to visit once in the 70′s, died of a stroke about 8 months after 9/11, and the priest brought up the attacks at the eulogy.

On a similar local note, on the day of 9/11, after the towers went down, gas stations in my home town immediately jacked up gas prices.  The mayor had the cops go around and force them to take them back down.  I doubt any of that was legal.

Before 9/11, Christianity in America - and religion in general - was on a downward swing, with reddit-tier atheism on the upswing. Religion was outdated superstition from a bygone age. The day after 9/11? Every single church was PACKED. (This wasn't a bad thing, but the power-hungry on the Evangelical Right saw this as a golden opportunity to grab power and influence.)

EDIT: By Popular Demand - Freedom Fries. I initially left these off because they came a couple years after the initial panic and most people thought they were kind of absurd (and I don't recall anyone really going along with it other than maybe some local diners here and there). France didn't want to get involved in our world policing so some folks were like "TRAITORS!" and wanted to call french fries "Freedom Fries" instead, so as to stick it to the French.

Besides dumb shit like that…it’s really hard to overstate how completely the national mood and character changed in the span of a day, or how much of the current culture war is a result of the aftermath. (9/11 was the impetus for the sharp rise in power of the Evangelical Right, who made themselves utterly odious and the following backlash helped the rise of the current Progressive Left, for instance.)

And if all of this seems batshit...well, it was. But I want you to think for a moment how people react today over even trivial shit. People send death threats over children's cartoons. They call for blood if the maker of a video game had an opinion they don't like. If someone made a racist joke a decade ago when they were a teenage edgelord, folks will go after people who even associate with them. "DON'T YOU UNDERSTAND ALL THE HARM THEY'RE DOING!?"

Now take that same level of over-the-top histrionics and apply it to the unprecedented event of passenger planes crashing into crowded buildings in America's most populous city and killing thousands of people all at once. "DON'T YOU UNDERSTAND THAT WE WERE ATTACKED!?"

[absentlyabbie]

i'll tell you what converted me to being all-in on keeping cats indoors only:

living for a year and a half in a rural area with a sudden feral cat colony explosion on the property.

i moved in with my folks for a bit and at that time, one (1) stray cat mama had taken up residence on the property, but was too feral to let my mother anywhere near her. but especially after she brought three kittens around, mom fed her and the kittens in hopes they'd grow trusting enough she could catch for spay and neuter at the minimum. momcat stayed mean and hella wary, but the kittens would hang around a little nearer and play with my mom via long stick, but still wouldn't come close enough to touch or catch.

unfortunately, two of the three kittens were girls and started having kittens of their own before further progress was made, shortly after i moved in. and that was pretty much instant doom.

there were so many kittens. SO MANY. multiple litters. every time we turned around, more kittens.

we fed them. we hunted for and located the kittens every time anywhere on the property and would move them to a repurposed doghouse anytime a mama cat had them somewhere else, so that they could grow up human-socialized and we could spay/neuter them when they were old enough. (also it was a handy tactic to push the issue of the mamas getting more used to/trusting of us themselves. only really worked with one of them, though.)

and we watched them die.

we watched litter after litter of kittens never make it to the age they could be spayed or neutered. the moms stayed, for the longest time, too skittish to more than briefly touch, much less catch and crate for a vet visit.

it sounds like a silly joke to say i have kitten-related ptsd, but i absolutely do.

too many goddamn times i'd walk out of the garage and find the carport and gravel drive strewn with tiny bodies. others simply went missing, never to be found.

one in particular, i wish i hadn't found, and the visual literally haunts me still, almost a decade later.

i saw so many kittens die of snake bite, spider bite, wild dogs, birds of prey, hit by cars, respiratory illness, covered in fleas and eyes crusted with infection.

and we loved them all. scrimped for antibiotics if the vet could be convinced to give it to us despite our being unable to bring them in. bought flea collars and ointments. we cared for them and fed them and petted them and played with them, brushed their fur and cleaned up their little faces, put ice in their water in hot summer, rigged a heating lamp in their house in the winter.

and they died. horribly. that property is pocked with unmarked graves of kittens and cats.

all the best intentions, not enough resources, and it didn't matter anyways because the population went from three to almost twenty (at times, over thirty) in the blink of an eye.

they died and died and died. our hearts broke over and over again. the stress and anxiety wore us down like sandpaper. i think, by the end of it all, we managed to find less than 10 of them all homes, including batman the disabled kitten i found a home across the country through tumblr.

it was carnage and tragedy, frankly. and we were helpless.

it only ended because they started dying faster than they could be born, and because we finally caught the two remaining mom cats in traps and got them spayed.

the points about outdoor cats being invasive predators devastating to local wildlife populations is true and valid and important.

but i know cat people, and cat people who don't know better than to let cats outdoors. what matters to you is the cat itself, generally. the cat being happy and taken care of.

keeping cats outdoors, letting them outdoors, is not taking care of the cats. it's not protecting them. it's not giving them any happiness or invigoration that couldn't be provided to them as indoor-only pets with just a little research and effort.

they die. they get ill. they get hurt. they're at risk of predators, and cars, and disease, and carelessly cruel children and deliberately cruel adults. they're at risk of disappearing on you because someone else saw a cat outdoors and intervened to give it a better, safer life not in conflict with the local environment.

and if that offends and angers you that someone would just take a cat they saw roaming outdoors, even collared, and that it sounds like i'm endorsing that, i am, but not if you intervene and be that person yourself for your own cat.

if what matters to you is doing right by your cat because it's family and a living creature whose happiness and health and safety is important to you,

keep them indoors. not part time. always. exclusively.

edit: since apparently i need to clarify this, i'm saying cats should live inside, that they should not live outdoors, even part time. visiting the outdoors supervised on a leash or in an enclosed catio is not the same as even part-time living outside, and i am certainly not advocating against it.

[starsofang]

CALL OF THE SEA / PART ONE

pirate poly!141 x f!reader tw: NSFW, MDNI, violence, death (minor characters), bits of gore, 141 are mean pirates, kidnapping

When a group of unhinged pirates invade your small village, you're whisked away from your peaceful home and thrown on to a voyage out at sea. Forced to obtain a new role as their medic, you have no choice but to accept your fate as you join their forces and aid them in their treacherous travels.

The village was tranquil as you stepped through it, bare feet threading through the soft grass, hands wrapped around the handle of a woven basket. It was peaceful, as it always was, without the souls of townsfolk to burden you. They didn’t dare bother you with the witness of elders around, keeping any torment to themselves until nightfall when the small vendor shops had closed up for the evening and the old folk returned to their homes.

You basked in the warm summer rays that shined down on you as you walked past the various shops. Really, they were far from any real shops, only showcasing simple merchant carts with limited supply for the village to gather, but it was a small village, and everything you needed was for mere survival. You weren’t a greedy woman, and you were plenty grateful.

Stepping up to one of the merchants, you offered a polite smile to the older woman sitting behind it, bowing your head in greeting.

“Hello, Mary,” you addressed, and she perked up from where she stood, occupied with counting together the sum of coins she’d earned throughout the day. She reflected her own smile to you, standing a bit taller. A wrinkled hand lifted to brush strands of her gray hair that had blown astray in the light breeze, revealing her radiance.

“Afternoon, dove,” she greeted in return. “What’s on the agenda for today?”

“Just need a few more herbs, is all,” you shrugged, shifting your eyes away from hers to pick around her cart. Mary always had plenty on hand, and usually snuck you a few extras when you weren’t looking.

“Ah, I see. Well, you know the routine, dove. Feel free to pick as many as you need,” she encouraged. You smiled graciously, collecting a small variety of herbs and plants to place in your basket.

It was a different decision every week, seeing as you often performed trial and error with them in the comfort of your home. Despite many in your village disagreeing with your efforts, you were attempting to learn more about medicines. The village was in desperate need of a proper healer, and a female one at that. The male in current practice was much too biased and reckless, though you were sure to get a mouthful if you were to express the concern.

So, you took it upon yourself. Living in the village rather than out on the mainland, it wasn’t a simple teaching. Resources and education were much more difficult to come by, and it wasn’t deemed necessary information for women to have. It was exactly the reason why you were seen as a bit of an enigmatic outcast to all – all except Mary, of course. Perhaps she simply pitied you.

“This will be all for me, Mary,” you declared, setting the basket on top of her cart. Reaching for the small pouch that rested comfortably on your hip, you dug through it, collecting a few bronze coins and setting them in the old woman’s frail hand.

Mary accepted, placing the coins in her own pouch and throwing you a kind smile. “You sure, dove? Nothing else I can do for you?”

“I’m sure,” you confirmed with a nod. “Still in the experimentation phase, I fear.”

“You’ll get there,” she assured, clasping one of your hands between both of hers and giving it an encouraging shake before releasing. “Perhaps I’ll come visit you one of these days. An old lady like myself could use a few tweaks.”

This elicited a light laugh from you, shaking your head as you grasped the basket. “You look as healthy as a babe, Mary. But yes, please do. You know my door is always open for you.”

The two of you said your sweet farewells before you set off down the grassy trail once again. You passed the other merchants, who didn’t welcome you with the same kindness Mary had, but didn’t scare you away with shrewdness either. It was a typical routine, at this point, for others to look down on you. A woman, unwilling to marry and bear children and instead, studying medicine. A true scandal, some might say.

The walk back to your home was done so without issue, but when your humble abode came into sight, tucked away on the farther side of the village for more private practice, the faces of recognizable men came into view. This was just as frequent as the judgeful side eyes you received, but much more inconvenient.

“Afternoon, dove,” one of the men greeted with a slimy smile, the nickname the village had given you slipping off of his tongue like rotted poison. Dove, a name of something so beautiful, given out of mere pettiness. You were free like a bird, yet you should’ve been confined to your cage. Something pretty to look at, but proving no use. “Never quite got back to me about my courtship.”

Right. You had ignored it on purpose. Though deemed as strange and grotesque by the townspeople, this particular man hadn’t quite gotten the hint. Lucius was his name, fitting, seeing as he was as close to the devil as they came. Conceited and boastful with no decency of leaving you be.

He was awfully determined in wanting to fix you, to make you the housewife everybody expected you to be, just like the other village women. It was common practice, seeing as women didn’t do much other than simply that. While some were quite content with that lifestyle, you sought out more. You didn’t want to be chained down to a simple man who had nothing but arrogance to offer, nor a man you weren’t in love with.

“Yes, that’s quite right,” you confirmed dryly, stepping up to your home. He blocked the doorway, barricading you from entering.

“It’s quite rude for a lady to reject,” he interjected, a devilish smile plastered on his face. You blinked up at him with a look of indifference. “I am only asking for an answer.”

“I believe I’ve told you no plenty of times,” you sighed, adjusting the basket on your hip. “I am simply not interested.”

He sucked his teeth together, glowering down at you from where he stood. It was clear he wasn’t pleased with the answer, but unfortunately for him, it was all he was going to get. You were solid with your decision, and god forbid you did change your mind on being a wife and mother, it would not be with him.

“Can’t change your mind at all, dove?” he asked in fake sweetness, reaching for your hand that wasn’t holding the basket. He took it in his grip, much too tight for your liking. “Perhaps I can help change it if you give me one night.”

You scowled at his underlying tone, pulling your hand from his grasp and resting it on the knob of your door. You pushed it open, stepping inside before turning to him. “Please do not humor me with such indications. I am not interested, nor will I change my mind.”

Abruptly closing the door on him, you settled inside of your home, breathing a low sigh of relief. You could hear his faint chuckles with the other men present, their footsteps soft against the grass as they took their leave. He never took things too far, such as forcing his way into your home or worse, forcing himself on you, but you feared that day may come the longer you rejected his advances.

You set your basket on your desk, slouching down in the old chair you’d spend days upon days occupied in. Your journal sat open with ink scattered on the pages in your scribbled handwriting, brief sketches drawn about of the varying herbs you worked tirelessly on. Above you, jars lined the shelves with fading labels, filled with makeshift medicines of all kinds.

With the village and its people now out of sight and out of mind, you resumed your studies with the fresh herbs, focusing on what your heart truly desired.

You don’t remember falling asleep. It had been hours of you with a pen in your hand, jotting down useful notes for your studies, and it was no surprise you had succumbed to exhaustion at the comfort of your desk. Your cot in the corner of the room was more a stranger than anything, but with the sight of moonlight still pouring in through your small windows, you debated on moving over to it so you could resume.

Standing from your desk, you rubbed the sleepiness crusting over your eyes, a yawn threatening to tug through your throat. Just as you began your short trek to your bed, a slight tinge of orange caught your eye, peeking in through your window. It was faint, barely knowledgeable.

Curiosity got the best of you, and through your hazy state, you tugged open the front door of your small cottage, daring to see what was outside. The orange grew brighter in view now that the door opening had allowed more light to pool in, and when you rubbed at your eyes once more, you recognized it as fire.

Fire, burning fiercely in the night, eating away at your village. The sounds of terrified screams and chaotic madness became abundantly clear when you stepped outside. It made your blood run cold. All hairs on your body stood straight in warning, beckoning you to return inside, to hide.

As much as you wanted to listen, the first thing to vacate your mind was Mary. In the brush of flames, you needed to know if she was alright, if she had gotten to safety before the angry fire had broken into her own home. Where most of the townsfolk treated you as a mere joke, Mary was the one who had given you kindness when needed.

Your feet moved in a rush to sprint towards the village, the grass damp from the midnight dew and sticking to your soles. The closer you came towards the heart of the village, the louder things grew. It was blood-curling, hearing booming voices bark various orders while others shouted in petrified fear. Mary’s house was on the other side of the village, and in an act of triumph, you aimed for it.

The heat of the flames became more apparent as you closed in on the town center. Townsfolk that you had grown with since a baby were in a frenzy, some bloodied, some weeping. They looked like they had gone through the pits of hell and crawled their way out, only to be inches away from being dragged back in again.

There was no explanation for why the men of your village were wearing the crimson color of fresh blood, or why some were laying in broken heaps on the ground. They were in agony, shrieking in deafening decibels. The healer in you wanted to stop everything you were doing to aid them, but the child in you wanted to reach Mary first.

You did what your heart wanted and ran for Mary.

Approaching her house, the flames had not yet approached. It wasn’t burned to ash, nor was it in shambles. Instead, one large man had Mary in their hold by each of her arms as she attempted to fight him off while another ransacked her home.

“Mary!” you shouted, helpless. The man’s head whipped in the direction of your voice, cruel eyes narrowing in on you. Mary joined him, fearful eyes catching yours.

The sight of the men was foreign to you, but you’d recognize heartless monsters such as them anywhere. They were mere stories shared between the village, often used to scare the children away from the sea for their own protection. The village was so small, nobody had ever worried about the stories happening to them.

Pirates. Cruel, greedy, malicious. Like dogs off a leash, bearing sharp teeth and frothing at the mouth. They raided innocent villages for their supply, leaving it in disarray once they got what they wanted. Sick bastards who deserved punishment, yet slipped away in the roaring waves of the sea before it could be handed to them.

“Let go of her,” you pleaded with the pirate, hands clasped together. You knew you couldn’t fight him off, even if you tried. Mary was just as powerless as you, and old age was starting to catch up to her. She was fragile, and with the way he was handling her, you feared she’d get harmed.

The mysterious pirate continued to stare at you with an unreadable expression. He grunted in annoyance, loosening his grip on Mary but not quite releasing. It did nothing to comfort you, and that feeling grew tenfold when the other pirate stepped out of Mary’s home, locking in on you.

“Grab tha’ one, will ye, Gaz?” the one holding Mary huffed, gesturing towards you with a nod of his head. The other, Gaz, nodded in return, sauntering up to you like death on wheels. You needed to run, to escape, but he was too quick. Before you knew it, Gaz’s arms had wrapped around your waist, hauling you over his shoulder like a doll.

Flailing in his embrace did nothing. His grip was firm, arm locked on to you impossibly tight, and the punches you threw to his back seemed almost comical to him.

“Find anythin’?” the other asked Gaz. Gaz shook his head, releasing a frustrated exhale.

As chaos ensued around you, the two men began dragging you and Mary along towards the heart of the village where you were moments ago. Gaz’s grip loosened on you, before he dropped you to the damp ground carelessly. You landed with a huff, soreness soaring through your back.

Looking around, you realized that many of the townsfolk were in the same condition. Lined up besides one another, pleading for their lives, weeping with ugly snot running from their noses. Mary was beside you, shaken but unharmed from the looks of it. She stared at you with heart wrenching fright, and you wished you could’ve told her things would be okay.

But they weren’t. The village was set ablaze, its people lined up like prisoners with a group of pirates looming over them like reapers prepared for death. The peace from this afternoon had vanished, and there would be no return. Things would be forever different, if they spared your lives.

Gaz and the other pirate stood side by side as they looked over the townsfolk. Another was beside them, face distorted by a ghastly mask that resembled a skull. It sent shivers down your spine. It was as if you truly were looking death in the eye.

A fourth pirate stepped forward, eyes that should’ve been considered kind instead staring down every last villager with heated observation. He was silent as he paced slowly, hands behind his back, the fire casting a doomful glow upon his face.

“My name is Captain Price,” he introduced. His voice was booming with authority. “If you do not wish to aid us, then we do not wish to aid you. The choice is yours.”

Sweat beaded your hairline from both the flames of fire scorching around you, and the anxiety that spiked inside of you. Your eyes locked in on the Captain, watching his every movement, noting the way he stood tall and proud, showcasing the true power he held. The villagers and you were helpless against him and his crew, and he was ensuring that it was obvious.

“We seek a medic. If you cannot provide that to us, then you are of no use to me,” he explained, pausing his pacing. He took in the sight of every grim face. Once he landed on you, you shivered, looking away in a panic. “I will ask you once. Who is your medic?”

Deafening silence filled the air apart from the flickering flames that threatened to consume us whole. Nobody dared to speak a word, nor did they look away from Price. It was as if time had stopped and everybody froze.

Price sniffed, glancing around the villagers. Though he seemed collected in his behavior, you could recognize the impatience from the way his lip twitched and his shoulders tensed.

“The Captain asked you lot a question,” Gaz sneered in defense. Price spared him a glance before returning focus. Still, nobody spoke for the next few moments.

It wasn’t until Price’s hand drifted to his waist, hand coming to rest on a handgun that the air shifted into one of unease. The sight of it made you sick to the stomach. Handguns were a specialty only the wealthy or military could acquire. They were rare and expensive, a luxury to some, but deadly. One click, and your soul was taken right from your body.

Price grasped the handgun, holding it in his hand as if it were a toy. He stepped up to the line of villagers, peering down at them like useless pigs. The sight of the gun had women quivering in fear, tears streaming down their rosy cheeks. The men were men no more, stripped away of their masculinity and replaced with little boys, unable to protect their kin and fulfill their duty as defenders.

The gun was raised, threat building with every inch. The barrel pointed right at the horror-stricken face of the very man who intruded on your home earlier – Lucius. Gone was the cocky mockery of a man, replaced with a whimpering boy who feared death just as much as another. He was shaking, shoulders slouched in attempts to appear small.

“We will try this again,” Price demanded. The cold barrel pressed to the temple of Lucius’ head and you could do nothing but sit and watch, unsure of what to feel. Sure, he kept a sour taste in your mouth simply from being. But to wish death on him for being a hindrance was distasteful. “Who is your medic?”

Lucius wouldn’t possibly rat you out. He was a selfish man who took what he wanted, but surely, he wouldn’t. He wasn’t that cruel.

The coward’s shaky hand lifted to point in your direction. It felt as if he were throwing a sharp dagger at you, the way he exposed the occupation you’d been so meticulously working hard towards.

Eyes shifted towards you, sending an ice cold burst through your veins. They were prodding, dissecting you from head to toe as if you were an experiment for them to test on. It was unsettling, sinking your heart down to the pits of your stomach.

“You’re the medic?” Price questioned. He hadn’t lowered his weapon, keeping it firm against Lucius’ skull, but his attention had shifted to you. His eyes weren’t warm and kind like they were shaped out to be, but rather cold, glossed over with hardened hostility.

“I–” You swallowed. “I am merely a medic in practice. I am not a professional, I do not know proper teachings–”

“Ghost,” he interrupted, whipping his head to look at the masked man. Ghost was a brute of a man, a shadow that would’ve been consumed by the night if not for the illuminating glow coming from the village in flames. “Take her so she can gather her things. She’s coming with us.”

Dread struck you right to the core. You wanted to beg for them to leave you be, to explain that you weren’t what they wanted. You didn’t want to be stripped from your home and tossed onto a ship with no clue of where your next destination was. These men were dangerous, seeping pure rancor and poisoning the very ground you laid on. Leaving with them was a death sentence.

Ghost said nothing, and even if he did, you wouldn’t have been able to hear it from the subtle weeping from villagers beside you. His strides were long as he approached you, and without warning, his rough hand grasped your elbow, hauling you to your feet. The force startled you, throwing you off balance but his grip was tight enough to keep you grounded.

As you were dragged away towards the direction of your home, you could hear an uproar of cries. Terror struck the village once more and you could do nothing but accept fate for what it was. You wanted to turn your head to see what was becoming of your people, but you were scared. Scared of what you may see, scared of what Ghost will do if you look.

You kept your gaze forward, legs moving quickly to match the heavy pace of Ghost, guiding the lion into your den.

Arriving at your home, you were hit with the realization that it would be the last time entering it. Your hard work would vanish, the space you made into your security blanket would be destroyed, burned to ash once the flames settled. It tore your heart to bits.

“Hurry up,” Ghost gruffed, his voice gravelly and hoarse. Just like Price, it was assertive, leaving no room for discussion.

You made haste to pack your essentials into a flimsy satchel. It wouldn’t be able to fit much, and you could only pray they would at least provide you with bare necessities on your voyage to hell. In your satchel went your journal, the cluttered jars of experimental medicines, your favorite quill, and a daring change of clothes. If Ghost thought you to remain alive long enough to have the opportunity to redress, he didn’t express it.

“That all?” he huffed, and when you nodded, he seized your arm again. “Let’s go.”

The sight of your home became a distant memory the farther you went from it. Already your body was pleading to go back, to curl up in bed and pretend that all of this was a sick dream. You regretted not making your cot of more use, sleeping in that damned wooden chair instead.

By the time you arrived back at the town center, it was like witnessing purgatory itself. Bloodshed with the bodies of your people laid across the ground like animals tossed aside. Useless and unworthy, that was how these pirates treated them. Though your people had never been kind to you, this was a fate you would never have wished upon them.

Their faces were unrecognizable as you took them in. Some burned, some beaten so bloody their faces had swelled into ugly monsters, some slain. The sight of the deceased made you want to vomit, bile piling in your throat and threatening to expel out.

Your eyes frantically searched for Mary, aching to know if they had given her mercy. She was a frail woman, withering with her age. She was innocent.

You couldn’t find her familiar face, and you weren’t sure whether to feel relieved or dreadful.

The three other pirates were standing around one another. They were unphased by the actions they had bestowed upon the village, as if it was another simple day. It unnerved you, rattling your bones with burrowing fear. When they noticed the return of you and their crewmate, they wasted no time in guiding you off to the small port in which their ship had been docked.

It was large, wood tainted with brown so dark it could’ve been black. It blended in with the abyss of the sea, which you realized was entirely the point. Unnoticed and concealed.

Ghost didn’t let go of you as he helped you on to the ship, nor did he release once your bare feet connected with the wood. It was just as restricting as before, causing a light pulse to form in your bicep where he held you.

“Take her to the chambers until we figure out the next step,” Price ordered Ghost, nodding his head in the direction of raggedy doors. You could only imagine what lies behind them, waiting for you.

Ghost grunted in response, tugging you with him and having you stumble on your own two feet. The wood was rough and sharp on your soles, slicing tiny splinters into your skin. Shoes weren’t needed in your village unless it was winter, and even then, the grass was always enough to consume them in warmth. Now, you were regretting not owning a pair.

“In you go,” Ghost uttered once he had the door pulled open, shoving you down a small flight of stairs towards the lower section of the ship. It was dingy and unlit, the only light seeping in being the moonlight from a tiny window.

Once inside, you recognized your new home as a cell. Barred and caged in, being tossed inside carelessly. There was nothing but a cot and a bucket to relieve yourself. It was completely empty and void of comfort.

Ghost shut the cell door, locking it with an annoyed grunt. You hadn’t even noticed him pull out the set of keys to open it for you, nor had you noticed when he locked you in. You watched as he thrusted the keys in his back pocket, the only evidence of its presence being the small glint of metal from the moon’s light.

“Wait!” you cried out when he turned to leave. You scrambled on the cell floor, hands wrapping around the cold bars. He paused his walk, throwing you a look of disinterest. “You can’t just leave me in here!”

Ghost snorted in what you dared to say amusement. “Don’t get your knickers in a twist, princess. You’ll be of use soon enough.”

Ignoring your pleas, he stepped up the stairs and returned to the main deck, shutting the door and leaving you utterly alone. Silence filled the air apart from the calming waves of the sea, though it did nothing to soothe you. You were helpless, deprived of any form of escape.

You spent what felt like hours on the floor of your cell, weeping into your own hands, silently praying to a God to release you. When nobody came to your rescue, you knew it was far too late for a miracle. This would be your new life, your new home, for as long as they kept you alive.

Part of you wished they would’ve just killed you instead.

[sguidwards-bestfriend]

Young Old Things

I like the thought of a deaged Dan causing a misunderstanding between Danny, Vlad, and the batfam.

TW: sexual assault hinted at

....

Danny, Dan, and Ellie go to see Jazz in Gotham. They've been waiting to "visit" her for weeks since she moved out. Only waiting for her to get a big enough place for all of them. Danny already said he'd share a room with Ellie and Dan, especially now that they found out if she is her true age she'll start to stabilize more permanently with Danny's ecto. Plus, having Dan be the same size helps, or so she says (he might be desperate for a new family and Ellie is trying to help, Danny and Jazz never bring it up in front of him).

The Fenton parents don't know about Danny being Phantom, instead believing that some big ghostly event caused Danny to have a ghost daughter.

And that he tried to clone himself mixed with a ghost to use that body to stabilize her. They may be proud of their scientist son, they are not proud that he won't let them experiment on his ghostly "creations".

Of course they are entirely wrong:

Ellie is one of Vlads' attempts to clone him, the only one that survived.

And Dan is an amalgamation of Danny and Vlad from an alternate timeline. He doesn't know why he's keeping that from his parents. He owes nothing to that scumbag, but Jazz says many victims try to keep their abusers safe from facing consequences. Before Dan was deaged, and much before he met the Fenton parents, he'd pointed out that he'd be scared who his parents would have chosen to believe too.

Jazz gets a full ride scholarship with Gotham U, the Wayne's new massive donation to the psychology department, as well as her well written letter about being the head of her home, helped immensely.

She felt bad using a slightly blurred version of their story to get a good scholarship, but Danny pushed her to go for it.

Hence her, Danny and his 3 year old "twins" were at a gala for the university.

It was being held in the museum after closing hours. The invitation she got had specified that her brother was invited, each with a plus one.

They couldn't exactly get a babysitter for two super-powered toddlers in the city known for hating metas. Besides it wasn't like they had time to get dates anyway.

The night started out fine. There were scholarship students, student council members, some Gotham U staff, and a few rich folk mingling and eating tiny foods that both Ellie and Dan adored.

Ellie fell asleep in Danny's arms almost the second she'd finished eating, and Dan was overly protective of the both of them as always. Of course the dense crowd and constant noise wasn't helping calm him down.

A Wayne, he wasn't sure which one exactly, had brought Danny a plate of food and sat with him as he tried to distract Dan. At first Dan didn't care for him at all, but he mentioned reading about the constellation on Dan's shirt and he loosened up. He never let go of Danny's pant leg though.

The night turned sour when all three's ghost sense went off. There was no immediate threat, but even the Wayne kid noticed them tense and turned to the hallway.

Dan was the first to spot him. "Vad."

"Bad?" The man mimicked.

"He has trouble with his Ls."

"No! I can say Ellie." Dan huffed, poking the side of her sparkly green shoe.

"Vlad, the guy that walked in." Danny said, decidedly looking down into his daughter's sleeping face, squished into his shirt and drooling.

"Vladimir Masters?"

He nodded, before he could continue however Dan spoke up.

"He is bad. He's the reason I was born. And Ellie too." Dan put himself in front of Danny, his little legs going over Danny's feet like a guard dog.

He could see the Wayne's hands tighten into fists, he tapped the inside of his wrist a bit and watched as he squirmed in his seat.

"Hey, Tim." Another dark haired light eyed Wayne and a girl came up to them. "Who's this?"

"Danny, these are my sibilings. Dick and Cass. Guys, this is Danny."

"Hi, nice to meet you Danny. I'd shake your hand but it looks busy." He gestured towards Ellie. As his hand swept nearer, Dan tried to swipe it away. "Oh, and who's this."

"I'm Dan. You can't touch Mommy." His little face contorted into his best toddler attempt at scaring them off.

"I would never do that. No one here would." Dick said as he crouched down to be eye level with his son.

"He would." Dan pointed at Vlad, all three turned to look at the man. Before anyone else noticed, specifically Vlad himself, Danny pushed his arm down.

"Don't point, it's rude."

"He's a rude butt." Danny laughed softly and Dan continued. "It doesn't mater that I'm half of him, I'll never be evil like him." He yawned and laid his face on Danny's leg.

"I think that's enough signs that we should head home. Thank you for talking with me, Tim."

"No problem, it was m-"

Dan grabbed around Danny's legs and whined "I don't wanna gooOOOooo. I want more of the tiny hot dogs."

Danny looked up to see Vlad infront of the food table. The Wayne sibilings followed his gaze "I'm sorry buddy, but-"

Tim stood up, "I'll get you guys a whole mountain of the tiny hot dogs. Why don't you guys wait for me at the door." Ever so softly he heard Tim whisper, "Go with them." To his brother.

"Where are your things? I'll help you get ready." Dick looked around like he didn't know where the coat closet was. He'd probably been to events like this hundreds of times, but Danny appreciated the sentiment.

"Their stroller is at the entrance, I have to get my sister though."

The girl who hadn't said a word hummed and went off, "Cass can find her, I'll help you and we can meet at the entrance."

"Alright, thank you."

It wasn't until they had both kids in the stroller with their coats on and Dan had a bottle of milk (with a lot of ectoplasm in it) that Danny realized he'd never mentioned who his sister was.

Dick waved towrds the end of the hall and saw his sister and the two Waynes he'd met walking with Brucie Wayne himself.

Jazz looked down and pat Cass' hand. "Thank you for getting me."

"Danger." Her voice was soft, but she didn't seem shy like he had expected.

"All four of you seemed to get along well with my kids. Would you like to come by for dinner next week?" Brucie asked as he looked between the four of them.

"I'd love to!" Jazz said enthusiastically. "Would Tuesday ight work?"

Danny could see the gears start to speed up in her head and he huffed a little. "Jazz, I need to get them in bed."

"Right, of course. Thank you again, for everything."

"Tuesday night works perfectly," Brucie Wayne said with a massive smile on his face, "we'll send someone to pick you up. Have a good night."

With that they walked down the ramp and down a few blocks to their two bed room apartment.

"Jazz," She looked over to Danny, "I think they know more than they are letting on."

She lent over the stroller a bit to check if the kids were asleep, before adding, "I agree, I think there is something up with them, but I don't think they're bad."

"Dan was okay with them mostly, and Ellie was fast asleep even with then around."

"I guess we'll just have to find out, then. Besides, it would be good for you to make friends your age and not at the car shop."

"Yeah, alright."

[starlightomatic]

hi, i just want to remind folks that a lot of people on here have personal connections to people who died or were kidnapped on october 7th. please keep this in mind when you want to understand why we react so much when people denying, minimize, or celebrate it.

a couple of months ago i met vivian silver's best friend. vivian silver was a long-time peace activist who was burned to a crisp so badly on october 7th that it took weeks to identify her body. my ex-boyfriend's family was friends with her as well, and they spent those weeks believing she was a hostage and hoping for her return, only to discover that she had been dead the whole time.

a couple weeks ago i met the sister of a nova festival survivor. she said that the hours when her brother was out of contact and they didn't know if he was alive or dead were both the shortest and longest hours of her life. another friend of mine lost five friends that day. yet another friend lost two friends who were on a biking trip in southern israel.

a couple who i know because they attended my childhood synagogue while in the US for two years lived in kibbutz nahal oz. they always told us how beautiful it was, and how they wanted us to visit it. now we can't; it's destroyed, with several of its residents killed. they and their two young girls miraculously survived after hiding in their safe room for ten hours before being rescued. a good friend of mine's boyfriend is from one of the kibbutzim that was destroyed, but he was not there at the time and so survived.

once, many years ago when the ex-boyfriend who i mentioned above (the one who knew vivian) were on a gap year in israel, i visited him on the kibbutz he was living on on a thursday night, and his friend gave us a ride to a bus station the next day to help us get to our shabbat destinations. the friend was headed on to visit friends at kibbutz be'eri, now destroyed, with over 10% of residents killed. i don't know if that man's friends survived.

another friend of mine, who was my coworker for several months when she was in the US last year, lived in metula in northern israel, on the border with lebanon. because of the war, she and many others are internally displaced within israel, because her home is not safe from rockets. recently, a mutual friend told me her house has been destroyed.

another friend of mine attended virtual synagogue with chaim katzman, a young man who spent time in the west bank protecting palestinian shepherds. when hamas fighters opened the closet he was hiding in to capture hostages, they shot him immediately, before taking hostage the women and children hiding in the closet with him.

in total, i have at least eight friends-of-friends who were killed on october 7th. the actual number is probably far higher, since i have a lot of friends in israel and many israelis lost people; but the eight is confirmed.

all of this to say: please understand when you're interacting with me and other jumblr bloggers that this is not theoretical to us. maybe to some of you, it's an academic excercise in seeing fanon's works in practice. maybe it's about decolonial theory and you might think "ah, well, decolonization is violent, what a shame but it was necessary." please remember it's easier to think that when you're not the one sitting at a shabbat lunch table with your mom's old friend who had to learn within the past few months that a woman she'd built movements with and was best friends with had been burned so badly she couldn't be identified for weeks.

i already know that people will believe the purpose of this post is to "generate consent for genocide" no matter what i say, but i'm going to say it anyway: nothing justifies genocide. nothing justifies the brutality that israel visits on the palestinian people. the people of gaza have gone through an order of magnitude more horror than what israelis have. the entire gaza strip is destroyed; people's homes, schools, mosques, orange orchards, everything. entire families have been killed with not a single surviving member. people have starved to death. people lack sanitation, menstrual products, and safe places to give birth. children are operated on without anesthesia. this is one of the greatest humanitarian crises of this century and it is israel's fault.

we need a ceasefire now; we needed a ceasefire yesterday; we needed a ceasefire months ago; we needed this never to begin. blowing up a child in gaza does not bring back vivian, it does not bring back chaim, it does not bring back my friend's cycling friends. it doesn't untraumatize the girl who waited hours to know if her brother was okay or the young family trapped for ten hours in their safe room. and i know for a fact that vivian and chaim would never have wanted this. not in their names, or at all.

so i am not posting this in an attempt to deny, minimize, excuse, or justify the genocide of the people of gaza, or to deny or excuse the nakba, the israeli raids in the west bank, settler violence, land theft both past and present, burning of olive trees, checkpoints and the restrictions on palestinian movement, the denial of right of return, and the fact that most palestinians do not have voting rights in the country that controls their lives.

i also understand that there are folks on here who have just as many personal connections to gaza -- or more -- than i do to israel. that it's deeply personal to them too, and they have watched as loved ones die, places they love and remember are bombed to dust, and people continue to minimize it, excuse it, or fight over semantics. i understand that this post will not land well for many of those folks, and that it will have activated people to hear me speak of nahal oz as a beautiful place i wanted to visit, because that land likely once belonged palestinian families, and was seized after its residents were herded into gaza during the nakba.

and.

people are human. humans deserve to live in safety. friends of humans who are harmed will feel pain, even if those friends lived on colonized land. i also live on colonized land, i am a settler. i live on the lands of indigenous peoples. when i looked up the nation whose land i live on, i can find information about their history but no information on where they went or whether they still exist. i don't know if they experienced a genocide and were all killed, or if they joined another people. i know i have never met any of them, and i live on their land.

and i'm not the only one. millions of people on this site are also colonizers of indigenous land. if you are not indigenous or Black, and you live in the US or Canada, you are every bit as complicit as my friends' dead friends in israel. your beautiful town is not morally better than nahal oz. you recognize yourself and your friends as people; you see their humanity.

i am beyond begging you to see the humanity of israelis, i think many of you can't. instead, this is my request:

remember, as you're doing your callouts, as you're describing me as evil and a person who needs to be blocked for the safety of your followers to i don't infect you or them with my evil:

i say and feel the things i do in large part from a traumatic event that occurred less than a year ago that i am personally connected to. please use what you know of trauma to understand that.

and then, if you can do that, maybe we can start to understand how trauma plays into why israel is the way it is; why trauma is actually the biggest player. so many of you have asked "how could a people who've been brutalized and oppressed brutalize and oppress another people?" my question: why would you expect that not to happen? trauma responses include fear, anger, aggression, compassion fatigue. when a population of descendants of refugees and genocide survivors, in a world that they believe to be out to get them, either supports or turns a blind eye to their government's atrocities, i am not surprised. saddened, but not surprised.

we then have to start asking: who enacted those traumas? when will we start to see the pain of both palestinians and israelis in light of the violence inflictated by far more powerful entities? by germany in the holocaust; russia and poland in the pogroms; swana arab countries in the persecution of jews post-WW2? who's at the top here? many of you are happy to believe it's jews pulling all the strings, but who set this in motion?

who denied jews safe haven before the holocaust, thus enabling this trauma to be inflicted in the first place? the US, and nearly all countries around the world. who restricted jewish immigration even post-holocaust, thus funneling huge numbers of jewish refugees into palestine, overwhelming the population even if israel had not been a colonial project? again, the US, and many other countries. who made double-promises and drew arbitrary lines in the region leading to decades of conflict? the UK.

who's funding this war? the US. Russia. Iran. don't be fooled that any of them care about israelis or palestinians. they have their own interests.

israelis and palestinians are the collateral damage in a horrible chess game that world powers have been playing for centuries. but they are not collateral damage, they are human beings, and their lives have value. collective liberation demands we look at the levels above the oppressor to see who is holding the strings, who put the puzzle pieces in place, who set off the levers and strings in a noxious rube goldberg machine that left nahal oz and be'eri in ruins and gaza destroyed almost beyond recognition.

my friends' little girls cowering in a safe room were never the enemy. chaim katzman hiding in a closet hoping the fighters would overlook it and leave him alive, or at very least capture him instead of kill him, was never the enemy. and they can't be; not if our goal is freedom and safety for everyone in israel/palestine. choosing who will dominate and who will be the oppressed minority in whatever comes next will not be the answer we need, and will not be liberation. just as zionism was not liberation. what can we build together, when this is all over?

what do we need to dismantle and destroy?

let's start with what we don't: homes. villages. cities. kibbutzim. orange trees. olive trees.

and who do we need to fight?

let's start with who we don't: the children.

[thinkinonsense]

COLORS₊˚⊹☆

old man!logan howlett x young fem!reader

cw: angst!! nsfw content but no smut

a/n: this has been in my drafts for sooo long

masterlist

you knew better than to be alone with logan. it's wasn't his fault that you couldn't control yourself around him but you couldn't resist his salt and pepper look.

"can i get a beer, honey?" his deep rugged voice asks over the bar counter.

"yeah, one second." you meekly reply.

the two of you met through his son, jack. for months, you knew jack had a crush on you but you always had eyes for his father, logan. when you first saw logan visiting his son on the college campus, you thought that maybe it wouldn't hurt to go on a date with the nice boy.

"here you go." you nod, sliding him the glass bottle. his fingers entrap yours around the bottle, stopping all of your movements.

"thanks, pretty girl." he tries to smile at you. your knees feel weak. logan can smell your arousal leaking in your underwear and down your thighs.

"no problem, mr. howlett."

blush coated your face as he releases your hand around the bottle. logan lets you get back to work, watching your every movement.

"ya' know, jack has been asking about you." logan says after a few sips.

the older man saw right through you. he knew why you suddenly became interested in his son. logan was a bad man who formed bad habits; one of those habits was entertaining your fantasies.

almost every night after work, logan came into the bar you worked at. a bar that was forty-five minutes from his cabin home. he loathed the city however, he liked how the lights twinkled in your eyes whenever you joined him for a smoke outside.

"i've been busy." you shrug. not really feeling bad for canceling plans with jack again.

"hm.." logan huffs, watching you pour liquor into a glass for another customer. "noticed you've taken up more night shifts."

"college is expensive."

"jack mentioned that your folks help pay your tuition." he had you right where he wanted you. "you aren't ditchin' him for some other college boy, are ya', honey?"

air trapped in your lungs at his question. you were torn on if you should look up at him or not. besides the beer in his hand, logan was also drinking in your appearance. always in these tight low-cut tops with tiny skirts and cute sneakers.

"too busy for boys." you reply, taking a sip of your diet coke to the right of logan.

it's been two months of dancing around your attraction to each other. logan loved his son but he knew the poor boy didn't have a chance with a girl like you. you needed someone to tame you, protect and provide for you. jack wasn't mature enough to see that.

"what time do you get off?" logan asks, finishing off his glass.

"thirty minutes."

you bite back the smile forming on your lips. he could hear your heart beat increase causing him to chuckle and shake his head.

"you know the routine, doll face." he puts down some cash and leaves you a nice tip. "meet me in the limo in thirty. no panties either."

"yes, mr. howlett."

was it wrong? maybe, but nothing felt better than logan's hands all over you.

[primofate]

You, Wriothesley's therapist.

TW: mentions of murder, depression, trauma

Sigewinne takes care of the physical injuries in the Fortress...but that place must have a lot of mental instabilities, trauma, depressive states as well, right?

Enter you who is hired by the Iudex to take frequent visits to the fortress and check on a list of people's well-beings.

The Iudex hired you, not the duke, though it WAS the duke's idea, he didn't think he was fit to choose and hire a "therapist", Neuvillette was probably more adept at that.

On the first day of your job, the list or people to check on is rather extensive and you talk and meet with a lot of new people just on the first day.

That guy who killed his best friend and is haunted by dreams of the scene.

That young lady who has spiralled into depression because she's separated from and unable to see her daughter.

That old man who has anger issues because he just didn't think he had done anything wrong.

It was probably a week or two after you were appointed that you finally met the person in charge of the place. The Duke, as they call him.

He seemed like a pretty strict guy, but when he thanked you for looking after the people here, you thought he wasn't that bad.

"I'm just doing my job,"

"A really hard one at that," he comments.

The next time you see him is months after, but this time he only passes you a glance, and rather quickly strides off to his office.

The next day, he seeks you out and apologizes for it.

"I was...in a bit of a rush,"

You wonder why he even apologizes. "...It's no big deal,"

"...I hope that you know that you're welcome here. I don't think you quite understand how difficult your job is, trying to shoulder everyone's past and fixing their psyche for their future,"

You look up at him, and tilt your head a little, squinting your eyes and trying to get a good read out of him...then it hits you.

The Duke needs therapy too.

"...I think you're a little stressed, your grace. Is there a quiet place where we can comfortably chat in?"

How were you to know it was going to end up in tea time? Yes the duke had issues, some deep seated ones, but not as much as the common folk that you were trying to work with. And yet you found yourself having tea with him even though it wasn't "work" related anymore.

All the two of you talked about were stories of the past, and shared a laugh or two about some silly or outrageous story he or you shared.

Weeks later there came a time when the angry old man you'd been working on had an outburst. He didn't mean to. None of your patients ever mean to, not when they had such big emotions, such big events to get over, such pent up emotions and such deep, deep regrets.

Old man had thrown a wrench at you, he was surprisingly strong, probably from working in the fortress for a while. You were caught off guard, not to mention you weren't even sitting too far away from him. You managed to shield yourself from it, but your arm bruised hours later.

You didn't think it merited a visit to Sigewinne, besides it was nearly home time for you.

"Done for the day?" You bristled a little at the sudden voice of the Duke, not expecting to see anymore of him today.

"Mmhmm," you simply answered his grin. You also didn't think it was something to hide from him. So your bruised arm was there for him to see in plain sight.

His grin disappearing and his eyes narrowing at the sight alerted you that it was perhaps something that you should've kept from him. "Where'd you get that?" He was 1000% sure you didn't have it when you had tea with him at noontime today.

"This...Well...Corrin was...having a particularly bad day," you moved your arm behind your back with a small smile, wanting to brush it off, but Wriothesley puts his hand out in expectation.

"Let me see it,"

For a moment the two of you just stare each other down. You wondering what the big deal was, him not backing down. When you didn't move an inch he gives in and adds the magic word. "Let me see it, please,"

You lift your arm up towards his head with a sigh and he receives it shockingly gently. He inspects it like it's some kind of puzzle he needs to solve, thorough and detailed. "Did you let Sigewinne see?" before you could even reply he adds "How did this even happen? Why was I not told?"

"It's..." You start. How do you explain? That you were supposed to be your patients' safe space. That nothing is supposed to harm them when in a session with you, that everything was in confidentiality. Working with troubled people, things like this were bound to happen, and it was only the first time.

He catches on to it quite quickly. "...It's your job," he finishes for you.

"...Precisely,"

The big sigh he lets out at the same time as releasing your arm has you wondering, really, why he seemed so stressed all over again. Over you.

Did you really not know the reason? You had an inkling why, you were a therapist after all. You got into people's minds for a living and Wriothesley wasn't exactly being subtle, but... you didn't want to assume.

"...How about I come with you next time?" he offers. You smile a little. "I don't think Corrin would be comfortable enough to talk with you hovering around,"

He grumbles something under his breath, like a defeated, stubborn puppy. "He doesn't have to know... I'll stand outside, or something,"

You laugh a little. "...The Iudex already has terms on my working contract when things like this happen. I'm supposed to drop the patient if "physical disputes" happen a total of three times and after three warnings are given."

Wriothesley huffs, though it sounds more like a scoff. "Leave it to him to think of everything. Doesn't seem fair," he moves so that he stands next to you, and places a hand on your upper back, pushing you the slightest bit to walk with him. You notice he's steering you towards the Fortress' infirmary.

"What doesn't seem fair?" You ask with genuine curiosity, not knowing what he was implying.

He's silent only for a beat more, but he doesn't look at you as he answers, only continues walking forward. "That he gets to protect you and I don't,"

You can't mistake the somersault your heart makes, you bite the inside of your cheek to keep from smiling silly.

The Duke needs the occasional therapy.

Or maybe he just needs you.

[caesium-55]

—seven days. [ ii ]

pairing: max verstappen x manager! reader.

summary: as the third time world champion, max verstappen's manager, you function on the belief that whatever max verstappen wanted, max verstappen shall get. but this time, after four years of working as his manager, you can't give him what he wants anymore and that was to stay.

author's note: not beta-read. not edited. here's part 2 folks. part 3 is on the works now. did i write this fic instead of studying for my important quiz tomorrow? yes, yes i did. pls pray for my score.

masterlist.

For Christmas in 2019, Max has gotten you an apartment near his in Monaco. It is a loft apartment good for one on the 8th floor, a building away from where Daniel and Max lived. Originally, he wants to get you the unit a floor below his. You decline quickly, insisting that you are very fine with rooming with Julia and Kendall, who are both members of the Red Bull PR team whom you have gotten close with since your first year working with Red Bull. Max may have beef with the PR team for making him do a lot of embarrassing shit for the views but you're besties with most of them and actually thank them for making Max suffer through PR stuff because you cannot afford therapy and watching Max suffer through PR-related activities is a good form of free therapy. Also, Monaco apartments are fucking expensive. Red Bull might be paying you well but not well enough to afford an apartment in a country as expensive as Monaco.

“I want you close,” he tells you. If you did not know any better, you'd have butterflies fluttering in your intestines right about that moment. Sometimes, Max utter the most heart-fluttering of nonsense without meaning to. It causes your heart to stutter more times than you would like to admit.

“Well, I don't want you close.”

Max will never ever win an argument with you. He knows that. You know that. The best he can do is come to a compromise, a compromise that is usually tailored to suit whatever you want.

So you got that small loft apartment a building away, good for one person only. It's easy to clean and it's cheap, Max already said that, which makes you happy because you can set a payment plan for that. An apartment as a Christmas gift is already too much, borderline giving you a heart attack already. Rich people spending their money give you, a person of the middle class folks, heart attacks. Why can't Max be normal and give you a normal gift? A bracelet? A bag? You’ll even accept it if he gave you a slice of cheesecake. Not even your parents can buy you an apartment.

It has only been three years since the keys are passed on to your ownership and people say three years is enough time for a person to make a place home. But your apartment doesn't even feel like home, only a place you’ll sleep in if you happen to be in Monaco for the evening.

Home is that humble, two-storey house painted in red and yellow in Lynnwood Avenue, Vista Del Pueblo, Austin, a total picture of a picket fence dream. Home is Abuelo's old farmhouse in El Paso where you spent your childhood riding horses and driving ATVs across the dusty dry earth. Home is the retro milkshake place owned by the sweet old couple that has been in the neighborhood longer than your entire existence. Home is the tree-lined streets where you walked the family senior dog, Niko. Home is the Austin Fire House, your Dad’s workplace that you visited a handful of times back when you were a child to deliver cookies that your Abuela baked so your Dad could share it with his co-workers. Home is your mom’s clinic in the middle of downtown, always smelling like eugenol, disinfectant, formaldehyde, and her perfume. Home is not glitz and gold and glamor and cash cash cash. Home is not seeing wealthy people left and right. Home is not Monaco.

And it is not like you stayed long in your place either. You're always off traveling around the world with the Red Bull team and accompanying Max wherever he needs your presence. You don't even spend your breaks in that apartment because you immediately fly home to your family once a break is graciously given to you before flying off again to watch Max collect trophy after trophy.

Six days from now, you're going to be flying off to Texas. That means you have six days—less than six days actually—to pack all your crayons and go. Of course you're going to pack up the day before you leave. Doing shit last minute makes your life exciting, and it's not like you had a lot of shit to pack anyway. All your belongings can be tucked into a total of three suitcases. Three years worth of belongings in three suitcases.

you: you doin good there?

Max has been holing himself up in his penthouse since your arrival from Abu Dhabi, probably dealing with his breakup with Kelly. A shame, really. You thought the two looked good together. (Do they really? the asshole part of your brain thinks.)

And P. Thank God for that child’s existence. You hate children but P is an exception. P brings the best out of Max. Max has gotten the chance to act as the father he never had. It's heartwarming, to be honest.

him: not really no

him: can you bring me coffee

you: on it champ

Fifteen minutes later, you’re knocking on the gigantic double doors of his penthouse, a tall styro cup of espresso from that cute café two streets down and a slice of blueberry cheesecake because you’re thoughtful enough to buy him his favorite cake. You experienced a breakup before. A cake and an icecream work wonders when it came to healing broken hearts.

“You're fast,” he immediately says after opening the door. You kind of expect that he’d look worse, snotty and messy and looking like he ran from hell and back. But no, he looks……fine? His sweater and shorts look absolutely neat and comfortable and dry of snot. His hair is a little fluffy from lying on his bed but not too messy. He doesn't even look like he was crying. No red-rimmed eyes. No red nose.

You fake gasp, putting a hand on your chest for additional dramatic effect, “The fastest racer in F1 callin’ me fast. Truly honored.”

A smile plays on his lips, sidestepping and beckoning you in.

You frequently come by Max’s home, for work purposes of course, but you still cannot help but be amazed by the enormity of it every time you enter. Max’s penthouse is twenty times bigger than the apartment you currently live in. One man and a big house—it must be very lonely now that P and Kelly are no longer around. Now, you’re even more worried about what will happen the moment you go back to Texas.

Oh… You still haven't told him yet.

“Coffee,” you hand him the warm styro cup to which he accepts gratefully. He utters his thanks, taking a whiff before sipping, letting out a pleasured moan.

You make your way to his gigantic kitchen, navigating your way through his cabinets in search of a plate and a fork. You slide the cheesecake on the plate towards Max, who followed you to the kitchen and sat on the empty stool in the kitchen counter.

“Thank you,” he says, picking up the fork and taking a bite. He glances at your feet, eyes trained on your YSL. The obnoxious sound of the heels clicking against the floor as you walk probably is the one that caught his attention.

“You know, you've been wearing the same shoes since 2019.”

Points for Max for noticing. These YSL Opyum heels are the first luxury items you bought for yourself after saving for three years to buy one pair. You saw a rich international student wear it once back in university and you liked how sophisticated it looked compared to all the pairs of converse or platform boots you owned. So you made it your life’s goal to own one. In 2019, after doing tons of part time jobs in university and working with Red Bull for a whole year, you managed to buy yourself one on your birthday and you’d been wearing them to work ever since.

Your regular work uniform consists of a Red Bull polo shirt, a pencil or a slit skirt, and that specific pair of heels. Around 2021, you bought another pair to replace the old one because the old one broke. And 2022 again.

“What's wrong with ‘em?” you ask, brows furrowing as you followed his train of sight. Your heels might be a year old already but they still look fine.

Max blinks, “No, there's nothing wrong. Just…Do you think you would want to wear some other design?”

“No,” is your reply. “I like ‘em just the way they are.”

“Okay.”

Your conversation drifts into something else as Max finishes his coffee and cake. You spend the rest of the day in Max’s penthouse, lying on his plush couch while a slasher movie from the 2000s played on his wide TV. He has given you access on his Netflix account so you abused it to your heart’s content because you don't even have. a Netflix subscription. You can absolutely afford one, you just choose not to. You have opted in using your phone mid-movie because the movie is beginning to get real scary but you do not want Max to think you're a coward so you acted like you're disinterested instead.

“Oh look, Charles is also back in Monaco. Do you want to hang out together?” you nudge Max with your foot, who swats it away from him, face contorting in disgust. You show him the post on Charles private IG—yes, you were mutuals in each other's private IG because whoever is friends with Max was friends with you by extension—on your phone.

“Stop makin’ that face, my feet are nice.”

Your toenails are a glorious red now. Ferrari red actually and they suit you better than the Red Bull red. Huh, maybe you should have considered applying for Ferrari instead of Renault in 2018.

“No, it isn't.”

You roll your eyes, pulling it away from him and sitting up, “Do you want me to schedule you a dinner with Charles? You might need the bro time, you know? Dad said bro times are also important, but not as important as family time, of course. My bro broke up with his sweetheart back when I was still in uni and his best buds were the reason he was back up in tippy top shape by the end of the week.”

Max stares at you blankly, “I think I understand the words individually but not the sentence entirely. I don't know if it's the accent or you Americans just have a strange way of structuring your sentences.”

“Point is, hang out with a friend because a friend can help you move on from a pussy.”

Max hurls a throw pillow at your direction, which you luckily avoided thanks to your non-racer level but still considerably good reaction time, but unfortunately, this action causes your center of gravity to shift and before you know it, you're falling from the couch. Unconsciously, you grab Max but then Max doesn't expect that you’ll grab him so now, you’re both falling off the couch and onto the floor.

You groan.

“Fuckin’ ass, man. That was uncalled for.”

He flips you off.

Nevertheless, Max ends up following your advice though and calls Charles to hang out the next day. Lestappen fans should be thanking you on Twitter the next day for bringing those two together on an off-day in Monaco. Maybe they'll hang out and eat together in a restaurant? Maybe they'll go on a yacht picnic?

Except Max sends you a message at high noon.

him: sos

you: is your kitchen burning

him: no

him: but this is still an emergency and you need to come quick

him: he’s with his girlfriend and i don’t want to thirdwheel

you: succ it up

him: you can’t do this to me

him: i just got my heart broken in abu dhabi

you: where are you

him: home

him: i also need help in cooking

Charles is the one who answers the door when you knock. He looks genuinely surprised when he sees you and you deduce that Max hasn't told him that you're coming over.

“Babe, who’s that?” you hear Alex’s voice behind Charles and you light up immediately, quickly moving past Charles to throw your hands around the sweet young woman.

“Alex!” Alexandra laughs and hugs you back. The sound of her laughter is as pretty as she and God definitely has favorites because why did he sculpt this twenty-one year old like the daughter of the Aphrodite while you look like you were born from one of Hephaestus’ sperm that lost the gene pool contest? The world is unfair. You always get the short end of the stick, may it be career-wise or appearance-wise, and you can't even bring your personality to the table because normally, without the whole act of professionalism and sophistication you put on, you act like an extroverted American frat boy on a good day and a sassy drag queen slash war freak on a bad day so yeah, you guess that's the short end of the stick, too.

“Seriously?” you look up and saw Max holding a frying pan, staring at you unimpressed. You roll your eyes and slowly pull away from the hug, gaze returning to Alexandra.

“How’ve you been, sweetie? Been a while since I last saw you.”

You didn't get a chance to talk to her in Abu Dhabi and in Las Vegas.

“Good,” she replies, smiling sweetly and ugh, you want to pinch her cheeks so bad. But Charles is pulling you away from Alexandra before you can do so.

“No, no, she is mine, yours is right over there,” Charles says, pointing at Max, who's still standing there in the corner. “Go on. Shoo.”

You roll your eyes before walking up to Max, “‘Sup?”

Max raises a brow at you, “So Charles’ girlfriend gets a hug and I get a sup?”

“Well, she's Alexandra Saint Mleux and you’re just….” you look him up and down. “Nevermind, what you trynna cook?”

“I haven’t decided yet.”

“I thought you said you were cooking.”

“I said I needed help with cooking.”

Your eyes narrow into slits, “You’re going to let me do the cooking, aren't you?”

“You know that pasta you made in September that you said was your mother’s recipe?”

A sigh escapes your lips as you roll the sleeves of your button-up to your elbows and power-walked your way to the kitchen, the sound of your YSL heels clicking against the floor bouncing against the walls of Max’s kitchen.

Lunch goes great. Charles and Alexandra love your cooking. Max has even asked for seconds. Good to know that he's eating well. Somewhere down the line, champagne is served even though it’s mid-afternoon and the four of you're sitting in Max’s balcony, staring at Monaco scape below. Thankfully, it is a cloudy day in Monaco. The heat of the sun isn't too harsh on the skin. Despite that, you hand Max a sun screen.

“Sorry about Kelly, by the way,” Alexandra says. Your conversation has drifted towards Max’s failed relationship now.

“That is very nice of you to say,” replies Max, smiling slightly. “But I’m okay.”

You give him a look, clearly unconvinced. Admitting vulnerability gives him hives so he's definitely lying.

“You look too okay for a guy who ended a three-year relationship,” Charles muses and his words get you immediately thinking.

Oh? So they’ve been dating that long? You never noticed.

“Even [Name] looked worse when she broke up with that Williams mechanic two years ago and they dated for like what? Barely a year?”

“Unprovoked!” you exclaim. Alex and Max laugh.

But yeah, Charles is right. When you broke up with Leo in 2021, it was not the prettiest sight. He entered Williams mid-2020 as a mechanic and he immediately caught your attention. He's kind and handsome and a very sweet guy. You have similar interests—engineering—and a similar sense of humor and you just….work so well together, you know? You were sure he was your soulmate the moment he cracked up that Physics pickup line and you know it was the same with him. You swore to God that you’d run away from all the British charming assholes but Leo made you eat your own words and gave you a run for your money.

But alas, 2021 season came and Red Bull Racing became busier than ever because Max and Hamilton got crazily competitive and Max demanded your full attention, needing you as a support system to win.

And Leo. Well, he’s busy, too. Engineers are always busy. But he felt neglected because all your attention was on Max. He felt like he was competing with Max for your attention and it shouldn't even be a competition in the first because Leo was the boyfriend and Max was not. And you cannot even deny that you prioritized Max that year. You wanted Max to win. You needed Max to win, so he can finally ask Horner to move you to the engineering team.

Losing Leo is devastating but Max won the WDC title that year and while you spent nearly a month crying over Leo after the breakup, you're hoping that at least, in 2022, you’ll finally get that damned engineering position at the cost of losing your soulmate. That the tears you shed and the broken heart you carried inside your ribs will be worth it if it was in exchange for your dream. Then, it does not happen. The job isn't given to you and you spent the early months of the 2023 season wishing that you have chosen Leo instead of Max Verstappen.

“You’re still friends with him, right?” Charles turns to you.

“Of course,” you say honestly. You're still mutuals on IG and he still hearts your IG stories at times. You still talk, too, on the freer nights where there's a lot of time to waste. “We ended on good terms.”

“How about you, Max?”

“Can we not talk about this please?”

The four of you empty that bottle of champagne and once the sun has begun retiring for the night, Alex and Charles also left. You're soon to follow, fixing your tote bag and going through the mental checklist in your head so you will not forget anything and not waste energy returning here to pick it up.

“You can stay for dinner.”

Max’s offer surprises you.

“No.”

His face drops as quickly as your answer came.

“You're goin’ to let me cook again.”

“No, I’ll cook.”

You give him an unimpressed look. Clearly, you're not convinced.

“I swear, I’ll cook.”

“What if I get poisoned?”

“You won't get poisoned.”

When you continue staring at him, he sighs.

“Just stay please?”

Of course, you stayed. He asked after all.

You keep your eyes on him as he makes dinner with clumsy hands and a bit of unsureness behind his actions.

“You're goin’ to burn it, honey,” you point out.

“What honey? I didn't put any honey in it.”

You blink. He blinks back.

“You’re gonna give me aneurysm one day.”

Shaking your head, you walk into the bathroom at the end of the enormous hallway, lock the door behind you, lean your back against the door, and slowly slides down until your ass meets the cold bathroom floor. You slap a palm against your forehead and purse your lips to stop a scream from erupting.

God fucking dammit, Max is too adorable back there and this is not doing good things for your heart.

[asunflowerana]

lotus love

summary: who knew a festival miles away from home would help Miya confess his feelings.

with: Osamu Miya

warnings: friends to lovers, oblivious reader, tatoos, dear osamu is so patient i can't 😅 fluff fluff fluff

Another road sign appears in your field of vision, a red ‘60’ stamped on the painted wood making Osamu slow down while driving, a gentle wind now coming through the open window and running your skin. It’s been almost three hours since you guys started the road trip to Kanagawa, and even though you enjoy watching the beautiful landscape sideways, your stomach is making a riot inside for food.

Being the copilot, you check out your current location on your phone’s map, letting out a relieved sigh as you notice a small festival going on a few miles away.

This is it.

You hear him chuckling, having no idea that he actually heard that sigh along with your now pleased expression. “Did ya find our next stop?”

“Lotus Festival, five kilometers away.” You answer him, scrolling through the event’s pictures. “Oooh, I found a yakitori stall there! Okay, we need to stop in this place.” Just imagining the seasoned grilled chicken skewered in a kushi makes your mouth drool faster than the car’s wheels.

“You got it.” Osamu smiles, also liking the idea of filling his tummy to the brim with food. “But, why Lotus?”

You search for the meaning on the web. “It says that this festival happens in the blooming season, which represents the 'rejuvenation of love’, in a few cultures. It’s most visited for old couples to rekindle their relationship, and singles searching for love. It’s really sweet…” You add, looking at some old married folks hugging each other. “But it’s kinda weird? Like, imagine someone traveling there just to find love? What if they find nothing and return home with a broken heart and less than twenty bucks?” You ponder out loud.

“Yeah, that sucks,” He mumbles, suddenly getting more interested in this festival. He turns to look at you, still paying attention to the empty road. “But it’s not the end of the world. The love of your life might be right beside ya, right?”

“Yeah, I guess.” You’re too worried about the hypothetical heartbroken person to notice Osamu’s eyes lingering on you a tad longer before his shoulders slumped in defeat and his brown eyes return ahead.

Ten minutes later, and the “Welcome to Lotus Festival ” banner appears, its spring colors matching the flowery environment. It’s so beautiful, the greenish square full of lotus with different colors, bringing such a delicious aroma that it attracted several little birds on the way, drinking their nectar like they’re in a feast.

Osamu parks his blue jeep alongside a truck, and together you both walk to the festival, leaving your bags behind and carrying only the essentials inside your purse — wallet, phones, some painkillers, and your small polaroid camera.

There’re a lot of stalls selling bouquets, natural lotions, hair accessories and floral jewelry, clothes, as well as food and beverage stalls. In the middle of the square, a white bandstand decorated with fairy lights and leaves, with mistletoe hanging in the center.

There’s so much to see, that you might be staying there for more than an hour's break.

But first things first, you carry the grey-haired man by hand through the festival, ignoring his confused questions until you finally found your target.

The smell of yakitori invades your nostrils and takes all of your self-control to not steal a bit from a kid who just got their steaming portion. You both look at each other for a second, hungry gaze in your eyes before you two run to the booth, money in hands and mouth begging for food.

“Four yakitoris for the couple.” The seller says evenly, handing you the warm skewers. Osamu forgets his food desire and gazes surprised at you, but you’re already devouring your grilled chicken like a starved lion.

“…Thanks.” Hesitant, he doesn’t correct the seller, handing him the money and moving away in your direction.

Did you really not hear what that guy said?

“Mmmmm… this is heaven.” You hum in delight, savoring the good taste as you finish your first skewer in record time. You look at him more pleased than before. “Thanks for the treat, ‘Samu. Choose whatever you want next, I’m buying.”

He nods in agreement and decides to forget the matter, taking a bite of his yakitori.

He doesn’t stop until it’s all gone.

You guys keep strolling, you buy some sweets for him while he treats you with a warm drink for the chilling weather, walking on the grass until a different booth catches your eye. On the sign, it shows that it’s a henna tattoo booth, choose one of the holiday models and you get a discount.

You get excited, having a new tattoo sounds super fun and it adds to the memories of this trip. And by the way Osamu is grinning down at you, he agrees with the idea as well.

Approaching the booth, you both look through the catalog, each model more beautiful than the other, making you undecided about the best.

“We could do matching tattoos.” Osamu proposes, pointing at the matching models on the second catalog page.

You nod, looking through the sketches. “They’re all so beautiful… I’ll let you decide.” You don’t usually trust him with those stylish things, but if you were to choose, you’d stay 30 minutes just gazing at them.

He hums for a moment, before pointing out at a beautiful Lotus sketch. “How about this one?”

“Rejuvenation of love. It’s a great choice, lots of couples order this one.” The woman owner of the booth says, a small smirk plastered on her face; Your brows raise, and Osamu is nervous, expecting a possible rejection, but you surprise him with your reaction. 

“That’s so genius ‘Samu! That way, we won’t even forget about this festival!”

Both of them deadpan.

“Good luck buddy.” The artist mumbles close to him, patting his shoulder before guiding you both to your seats. Another missed shot.

As it was on the sign, about thirty minutes passed before the tattoos were finally done, a lotus flower now decorating the inside of your forearms. The woman even did a thin stalk in both, which when the two forearms joined, would connect the flowers into a single branch.

This is so meaningful, but Osamu isn’t sure if it has the same meaning for you as it has for him. He thought his feelings would be clear as the sun's rays by now, but you’re still oblivious to them, he doesn’t know what to do anymore. The hints aren’t landing, and the wonder of whether you like him back or not is eating his brain alive, for a long time.

He can keep this trip friendly as planned, visiting Kanagawa for the day before returning to Shibuya as best friends. But there’s a growing chance that someone else might get the shot that he wants so badly with you, and if he doesn’t take this moment now, he might not have another one.

So after paying for the tattoos, he leads you to the white bandstand, wanting to “take some pictures” there. He waits for the right moment when no one is there, and takes you by the hand to the middle.

He doesn’t let go of you.

“Is everything okay?” You notice the way he’s nibbling his lower lip with his canine, something he usually does to calm down. He takes a deep breath, gazing at your eyes with determination.

“I like you.”

Osamu never liked to stall, so it’s best to just rip off the bandage. He keeps a firm grip on your hand as your brows finally raise in realization. “I like you. I don’t know when it started, and I don’t really care, I just know that it will never stop. I can’t stop wanting you. And I don’t know if I didn’t hit it right, or your pretty head is too oblivious to notice — Okay, sorry but you know it’s probably the second.” He chuckles, letting out the adrenaline from his pounding heart. “…I’m in love with you, _____.”

He recites as if they are the most important words to him, moving closer to you as he stares with passion at your shining, surprised orbs. He takes your face in his free hand, and his heart skips as you accept the caress, interlacing his fingers with yours while still speechless.

He doesn’t need an answer to see that you feel the same.

He looks above to the ceiling for a moment, your eyes following and noticing that you both are right under the mistletoe. He grins down at you, one of his cheeky smiles that makes your heart throb in adoration.

“Not that I need one of those to kiss you, but since this is our first—” He nuzzles his nose with yours, his skin gently grazing and soothing you. He whispers close, not taking his eyes off yours.

“Can I kiss you?”

Enchanted by his spell, you give him a small nod, granting him the freedom to lock his sultry lips with yours, making you forget everything else and focus only on the magical feeling of his passionate kiss, legs weakening and body resting inside his warm embrace.

You can’t hear some people applauding you from afar, nor feel the present flower scent around the place. But the lingering thought of your tattoos brushing against each other doesn’t leave your head anymore.

Rejuvenation of love. Lotus Festival is true to its word.

a/n: i confess, i love when boys are the one pining around.

© asunflowerana 2024 — all rights reserved.

[odyssean-flower]

Title: What if you, like, gave Neuvillette a shoulder rub

I wanted to include this scene in the chapter but ultimately decided to save it for a later one. tbh i stopped before getting to the "good" part but i still hope you enjoy it

You gently nudged Neuvillette. “Hey, how about I give you a shoulder rub?”

“Pardon me, Madame?” his eyes widened, and he shook his head slightly as though he thought he heard wrong. “Did you say ‘shoulder rub’?”

You couldn’t blame him for his surprise. It was terribly forward of you to offer. But, you thought that it would be good for the both of you.

“We still have time before the meeting starts. I used to do it for my parents and the old folks back home, so I’m quite good at it, if I do say so myself.” Seeing the hesitance in his eyes, you added, “Don’t worry, my hands will only stay on your shoulders. I won’t touch you anywhere else.”

Neuvillette glanced down at your hands for the briefest of seconds, then looked back at your face. “Very well, I accept your offer,” he said, still sounding a bit hesitant. You tried to give him a reassuring smile, but it didn’t seem to have the right effect. You should really practice these things more.

You walked around the couch to stand behind him, then took off your gloves and draped them over the back of the seat. He twitched a little when you placed your hands on his broad shoulders. You should have asked him to take off his robes, but it was supposed to be a short massage anyways.

“Tell me if I’m hurting you,” you said as you kneaded your fingers into his shoulder muscles. My goodness, he really needed this, you thought. You had to use all your fingers just to work out one single knot. Thinking back to his late nights in his study, you felt a rush of guilt. He works too hard. I should have offered to do this a long time ago.

Neuvillette was motionless as you worked. If it weren’t for the slow rise and fall of his shoulders, you would have thought that you were massaging a statue.

“Um…does it feel good?” you asked after a short period of silence. You had the feeling he was holding his breath.

“…Yes,” there was the slightest tremor in his voice. He cleared his throat, “Yes, it feels I’ve…never experienced something like this before. You’re quite skilled at this, Madame.”

“Thank you, but I’m just an amateur. You should look into visiting a professional masseuse for a full body massage. I’ve never been to one myself, but I heard you’ll feel like a completely new person after you use their services.” If this was how stiff his shoulders were, you could only imagine how it was for the rest of his body. “I heard they use aromatic oils and other things like that to help you relax. A lot of the higher-end spas have strict confidentiality policies, so you don’t have to worry about your privacy.” You were repeating what you’ve read during your honeymoon research.

[wardenparker]

For Valentine's Day

Joel Miller x female reader Co-written with @absurdthirst

Rating: E for Explicit Word Count: 12.2k Warnings: Cursing, mentions of food and alcohol, taking care of a baby in the post-apocalypse, Ellie being a big sister, established relationship, mentions of breastfeeding, fingering, unprotected sex, praise, talk of birth control methods. Summary: You, Joel, Ellie, and Caroline arrive in Jackson to find the town getting ready to celebrate Valentine's Day. Notes: These darling dears were long overdo for a visit, so Happy Valentine's Day from the post-apocalypse! The rest of the 'For' series can be found on my Masterlist if you haven't read it yet!

Jackson is like another world. Joel is on edge, despite the friendly faces. Despite the relative safety of the town. He had been shocked to see Tommy here. Thriving, when Joel has lost so much to find him. To find that he isn’t needed. Although, he’s relieved to find a safe little spot for his baby girl and for you. Relieved that a comfortable house is available for you to rest in. It still baffles him to find an entire town getting ready for Valentine’s Day.

The trip was grueling, although all four of you made it in one piece. There were a hell of a lot of days that you weren’t sure if you would make it at all — but that wasn’t really an option. Not with Caroline sleeping on your chest in the homemade wrap carrier that Joel had helped you fashion out of ripped sheets you’d found and washed in an abandoned house along the way. You’ve been bonding with Ellie along the way, and she’s pretty good with Caroline, but your little girl is the reason you’ve been fighting so hard. Now that you’re in Jackson you don’t really know what’s going to happen with you and Joel. All you know is that you have four walls and a roof again, and Caroline is safe.

“Why are there so many hearts everywhere?” Ellie asks Joel, looking around as decorations are put up and the snow crunches under his new boots as he shoves his hands back in his pockets. “Holiday.” He grunts, sure that the kid is fucking with him. She seems to know all the old holidays anyway.

“Have you ever heard of Valentine’s Day?” Who knows what she learned in that FEDRA school back in Boston, or if anyone even thinks about Valentine’s Day anymore — outside of Jackson. You can't even believe that this town is decorating and getting ready for some mass celebration. It's surreal. And a little Hallmark. But in the post-apocalypse? It's amazing in a way you didn't even know you wanted.

“You mean that commercial holiday where men bought their ladies chocolate and flowers, took them on expensive dates?” Ellie asks with a smirk on her face. “You know, they said that soooooo many people proposed on Valentine’s Day. Or made babies.”

"That...is not wrong," you admit, ruffling her hair as you walk alongside the teen with little Caroline strapped to your front. "I guess the folks here are trying to keep as many older traditions alive as they can."

“So what are you going to do for Valentine’s Day?” Her voice takes on a sly, teasing tone and she cuts her eyes over to Joel, who’s shoulder seem inches higher than they just were. “Make a sibling for Caroline?”

"She already has a sibling." When the dubious teen wrinkles her nose at you in confusion, you knock her shoulder and offer her the warmest, softest smile. The real one — not one that teases or has expectations. "You, Ellie. You've been an amazing sister to her on this whole trip."

“Oh.” Her cheeks turn bright red and she ducks her head down slightly, but you don’t miss the proud look on her face. “She’s not so bad.” She huffs. “For a baby.”

"You're not so bad, either." A soft laugh escapes you, and you duck your own head to press a kiss to the top of Caroline's covered head. "For a teenager."

“The baby ready for a nap?” Joel asks. “It’s been a while.”

"We're almost home. I'll lay her down when we get in." The trip into town had been necessary, but Caroline had gotten fussy while Joel was talking to his brother and stepping outside had been practical. It's definitely naptime, no two ways about that. Especially not the way your little girl has been on the verge of tears for half the walk.

“Do you want me to hold her?” Joel asks. Knowing that it’s been a struggle keeping her calm and maybe you need a break.

"She might calm down a little for Daddy." Typically Caroline seems to find being held by Joel to be soothing or at least enough of a novelty to distract her from whatever was upsetting her, and you pause in your steps to carefully extract Caroline from her nest on your chest to hand over to Joel.

His hands are always gentle holding Caroline. As if he is scared to possibly hurt her or stain her with his blood-soaked hands. “Hey, baby girl.” He coos, smiling down at her tear-stained face. “Why so grumpy?”

His little girl — your little girl whimpers and moans a little but the tears stop flowing and you end up chuckling wryly under your breath. “I’m the one who brought her into the world and took care of her for months all alone and she’s still a Daddy’s girl. Go figure.” There’s no heat in it, no malice of any kind. After two months on the road together, you’re thrilled to see the pair of them still bonding so well.

"She's grumpy because she's yours." Ellie snorts, rolling her eyes and grinning when Joel cuts his eyes at her for a moment before looking back at Caroline. "See? Same grumpy looks."

“Like father, like daughter,” you tease, needling Joel’s arm with one finger.

He rolls his eyes and shuffles Caroline onto his shoulder, rubbing her back softly. “Come on, baby girl. Let’s get you out of the cold and into a clean diaper.” He murmurs. “Then we’ll see if you’ll get some sleep so you aren’t as grumpy as your old man.”

The house that was bestowed upon you is just a little further out from downtown and when the four of you get inside, Caroline’s trusty basket is right where you left it in the living room. “She’ll want to eat when she gets up, but I can manage that.” Managing to breastfeed here and there still works, but it’s good that there have been foods that Joel can feed her, too. “If you put her down, I can take care of her when she wakes up.”

“She had a rough night.” Joel argues softly. Caroline was a little under the weather, so she had been fussy. You had wanted to stay up with her, and now you look ready to drop. “Go take a nap and I’ll get her highness when she wakes up, okay?”

“Thank you, honey.” It’s an easy reflex to brush a kiss on Joel’s lips now, and you offer him a smile before pacing past him to fall into the bed that the two of you share upstairs.

Joel gently lays Caroline down, having a supply of cloth diapers and pins nearby. “Hey, baby girl. We’re gonna get you all clean and dry in just a minute.” He promises, finding it easier than he had imagined to fall back into a routine with taking care of a baby. It was decades ago, but he remembers soothing Sarah’s tears as he fought against diaper rash and colic with her.

“So.” Ellie smirks, leaning against the archway into the living room like the absolute picture of adolescence. “What’re you gonna do for her for Valentine’s Day?”

“Do for her?” Joel snorts, not looking up from his task since Caroline likes to pee on an unsuspecting victim when she’s being changed. “What do you mean?”

“The mother of your damn baby, Miller.” Ellie huffs, also as grumpy as her father figure. “There’s a whole holiday about love and romance and they celebrate it here.”

He frowns, realizing that you might have some kind of expectation given the atmosphere around town. “I’ve never been good at that kind of thing.” He admits.

“You can’t do nothing,” the teen argues, keeping her voice down so she won’t disturb the baby or be heard upstairs.

“Yeah.” He grunts, aware of that now. He has never really had to do Valentine’s Day. Unless you counted getting Sarah those boxed Valentine’s for her classes. “I’ll think of something.”

“What’s Tommy doing?” She might not know much about Joel’s brother, but she knows he has a wife and figures he must have a plan of some kind. “He might have an idea you can steal.”

“Haven’t asked.” Joel shrugs, carefully pinning the new diaper to Caroline with a slight frown.

“Probably should.” But Ellie shrugs. It’s no skin off her nose if the grumpiest old man in the world is bad at romance.

He pauses and looks up at Ellie suspiciously. “Has she said something to you?” He asks seriously.

“No.” If you had, she would have been kicking his ass about it a lot harder and a lot sooner. “But she deserves something nice. For like…putting up with us.”

You do put up with them. He snorts and lifts a brow. “Don’t you mean puts up with you?” He jokes. “She happens to like my grumpy ass just the way it is.”

“All the more reason to be nice.” As if he has proven her point completely, Ellie smirks. “Nice and romantic.”

“What do you know about romance, twerp?” He scoffs and shoots her a grin. “You’re too busy scaring off the girl that is interested in you.”

“S’not my fault your scary rubbed off on me,” she gripes in turn. “And you don’t know she likes me. Shut up.”

“You were scary before I met you, kid.” He chuckles, smirking slightly at the mortified expression on her face. “Maybe you’d find out if you didn’t run her off.” He suggests. “Talk to her.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t run off.” Ellie’s characteristic huff comes with a frown and a whole lot of blustering now that she’s the one being called out and she pushes away from the doorframe with a near-stamp of her feet. “Whatever, old man. I was trying to help you.”

“Yeah, you are.” He acknowledges with a grin. “Imma put her down and then run talk to Tommy. You good with listening out for her? She should sleep the entire time.”

“Fine.” Anything to end the torture, though Ellie does smirk that she might have given Joel a good kick in the ass.

He snorts to himself as he lifts a now sleepy Caroline to his shoulder. Patting her but as he moves over to her downstairs bassinet. It’s was odd, you had carried Caroline in a worn out sling and then luckily found a new one on the way, but supplies and space for them had been so limited, now his daughter has a downstairs sleeping area and one right in the room you share with Joel

******

“Well look what the cat dragged in.” Despite the cold, Tommy is out on his porch when he spots Joel walking up the road, and he leans over the banister with a dash of curiosity in his shit-eating grin. Any time his big brother comes to him for just about anything, he still considers it a win. “Back again so soon?”

“Yeah, yeah.” Joel shoots Tommy a half-hearted glare and shoves his hands in his pockets. “You got a minute?”

“Sure.” Tommy��s head bobs in agreement. “You wanna come in?”

“Maria home?” Joel asks, not quite sure if it’s a good idea. Tommy’s wife doesn’t seem to be his biggest fan and he can only assume it’s because his brother told his wife some of the things that Joel has done to protect the people he cares about over the years.

“Nah.” The younger Miller brother shakes his head and stands on creaky bones to open the door for them. “She’s got meetings today. I don’t pretend to know everything she has to deal with, but she comes home to a warm house and dinner on the table, so I guess I’m doing something right.”

“Well, ain’t you a good little house husband?” Joel snorts, busting his brother’s balls a little. The man had been a pain in his ass hellraiser when he was younger. Before outbreak. It’s nice to see him get to enjoy domesticity once again.

“Hell yes I am.” But Tommy snorts too, knowing it’s a far cry from the kid he used to be. As it turns out, the end of the world and the love of a good woman can change a man. “You think I’m not gonna do everything I can to keep that wife of mine? ‘Course I am.”

Tommy was always the optimist, something that Joel had lost after Sarah’s mother had left. He had been too busy trying to raise her right, and then he lost her. Joel frowns for a second and then nods. “And how are you doing that with this Valentine’s thing?”

“Not as easily as I would have before,” Tommy admits, but that’s also a pretty obvious thing to say. Nothing is as easy as it was before. “That cache of movies they’ve got has plenty to pick from and they’re screening…” He thinks for a second, hard, and shrugs. “Some damn 90s chick flick. I dunno, but she’s excited. And since she’s been eating carrots like a bunny with this pregnancy, I’m makin’ her a whole meal centered around it for dinner.”

“Carrots.” He snorts and smirks at his younger brother. “Your kid is gonna come out and say “what’s up doc?”.” He sniggers, imitating the cartoon character from long ago.

“At this point I wouldn’t be surprised.” It makes Tommy laugh though, and he puts a glass of water in front of Joel before pouring one for himself. “Watcha need?” He asks, raising an eyebrow in curiosity.

“It’s about….” He looks down at the water and says your name. “The kid says I need to do something for her. For putting up with my shit.”

“Smart kid.” But still, Tommy frowns. “Are you…not together? Is that it? Or am I not gettin’ something here?”

“We were together one time.” Joel murmurs. “And we had a kid.” He shakes his head and looks back down at his hands. “Don’t get me wrong, I love the baby. Caroline is sweet and her momma-“ he sighs. “She’s too good for me really, but she wants to be with me.”

“Just one time?” An impressed and slightly disbelieving whistle escapes Tommy’s lips. “Do you…wanna tell me what happened? Or is that topic off limits?”

“You remember that supply run I made right after you left to go out west?” Even though he had been with the Fireflies, Joel had told Tommy his plans, hoping he would come along.

“Sure. You left the day after I did.” That had been the plan at the time, anyway. He can’t be sure that’s when Joel actually left.

“Came across her in an abandoned house.” He smirks slightly as remembers your surprise and his own reaction to your beauty. “Bunked down together for the night.”

“Ah.” The younger of the two men chuckles in acknowledgement. He can very easily see Joel trading sex the way he traded favors and sold drugs. “And she found you again? Afterward?” He guesses.

“She told me where she was from.” Joel explains. “After we got in trouble in the city and lost Bill’s truck, we headed there. Hoping that we could somehow find someone with a car.”

“And maybe hoping to run into her?” He doesn’t believe it happened by accident. That Joel hadn’t been thinking about you when he decided to go to wherever you were from. He knows his brother better than that.

“She had told me she was going west sometime.” He gives a half shrug, but that is why he had chosen to go so far out of his way.

"Cut the bullshit, Joel," Tommy smirks, knowing that his brother's ability to evade admitting to emotion is legendary. He's been like this for most of his life. Since his wife left. And that is what it is. But Tommy knows Joel well enough to know that he doesn't go out of the way for just anyone. "If you don't want to be with her that's one thing, but you protected her and that baby all the way from the east coast."

He could argue that he has an obligation to you because of the baby. Caroline is his daughter, but it’s just delaying the inevitable admittance of wanting to be with you. “So what the fuck do I do for her, Casanova?” He huffs, scowling at his brother and wondering why the fuck he came to him for advice. “She’s too fucking good for me and I know it. All the women in my life have been.”

“Well you’re taking her to the movie, right?” It’s not exactly a common thing to be able to do, and is therefore a pretty damn big special occasion in the world you all live in now. “Even if you didn’t do anything else, you gotta do that.”

“Yeah, I can do that.” Joel likes movies, used to love them back in the days before the world burned. “She likes books, maybe I can try to find her favorite?”

“We made a library in town of all the books that were left in everybody’s houses,” Tommy tells him with a nod. “Same way we got all the movies we screen. If you’ve got a bookworm, I think a library card counts as romantic.”

“That night…” Joel looks down at his hands and smiles slightly at the memory. “She was reading a book to me that was sexy.” He huffs out a chuckle. “Guess she seduced me with her reading abilities.”

"Fell for brains, huh?" That makes his brother chuckle, and Tommy leans back in his seat with a grin. "Maybe you can talk to Jana — the woman who runs the library — and arrange a little date there? Rekindle a little romance?" He's trying to help as best he can, knowing that old chestnuts like taking you out for a fancy dinner or taking a little weekend trip away can't happen with the world the way it is. He could be patronizing and tell Joel to hurry up and make an honest woman of you, but that is also something that's changed in this world. Not everyone feels the need for the formality of a marriage anymore.

“That would be good.” Joel doesn’t sound completely convinced. “Although I’m sure jewelry would be better. Even now.”

With one eyebrow raised, Tommy cocks his head at his brother. “What kind of jewelry were you thinkin?”

“Somethin’ to celebrate Caroline. And give her something pretty.” Joel hadn’t quite thought it through but most women loved the thought of jewelry.

“Earrings? Necklace?” The way Tommy wants to pry is nearly a physical necessity at this point. “Whatever’s in the house you guys have moved into, wrap it up. Consider it our gift to you guys for being part of the town.”

“Was thinking about a necklace but I don’t know.” He frowns slightly. “Maybe a ring?” He looks up at his brother. “You didn’t remove the valuables from the house?”

“What’s jewelry worth in the apocalypse?” It’s something that only had to be worried about in the cities, it seems like. In the places where FEDRA still reigned. In the places where appearances still mattered. “We took the tools, the resources, split them all up evenly or kept them in reserve, depending on what they were. “Whatever water, food, warm clothing, shit like that? That’s what matters. Not jewelry.”

“True.” Joel shakes his head. “See why I’m not good at shit like this?” He huffs. “Too bad I can’t build her a stroller for the baby.”

“I mean I don’t think you would find very good suspension, but we can get you the stuff to build an old fashioned one.” Tommy snaps his fingers in quick succession, thinking hard. “What the fuck were they called? The one from black and white photos? Prambutrators?”

“Prams.” Why Joel knows that, he doesn’t have a clue. But like he was watching an old episode of Jeopardy, the answer falls from his lips easily.

“Strollers, but beds.” There’s a longer word for it, Tommy’s sure of that, but he shrugs it off. “You wanna do that for her? We can make it happen.”

“Might be a good idea.” Joel hums thoughtfully. “Especially since you’re about to have your own kid. “Need some way of transporting them when your back is aching.”

"It'll be a family heirloom," Tommy huffs, amusement makes his smile spread all over again.

Joel snorts and he taps the table. “I want to build it.” He decides. “I can find out about the library card and look for something pretty too. She did give birth to my daughter and took care of her alone until I saw her again.”

"So it'll be a big holiday." That seems to please the younger Miller, and he chuckles quietly. "She's a hell of a woman. And deserves it, if for nothing else than putting up with your ass."

Joel rolls his eyes and sighs softly. “I don’t know how much she puts up with me because of the kid and how much is because she’s insane for wanting me.”

"Oh, she's certifiable." Tommy can't help but laugh at that. "But it's obvious she loves you. For whatever that's worth. You can see it on her face."

He doesn’t see it, but he might still be in that stage of disbelief. “I better get back.” He pushes the chair back and stands with a groan. “Told her I’d get Caroline when she woke up. She had a long night with her last night so she’s taking a nap too.”

"Ellie's with the baby now?" It's obvious to everyone else in the world that Joel has taken in the teenager with the same ferocity that he's taken to his infant. It's who he is.

“Yeah.” He can’t help the soft smirk on his face as he thinks about the two of his three girls. “She’s taken on the role of big sister pretty well.”

"Sometimes you gotta get thrown in the deep end to figure out how to swim." Standing with his brother, Tommy claps Joel on the shoulder. "Go get back to 'em. We'll get your building supplies tomorrow."

“Thanks.” Joel’s shoulders relax slightly and he shakes his head. “Still can’t believe we’re gonna have kids that grow up together.”

“Musta done something right to deserve it,” Tommy laughs, the edge of disbelief in his voice obvious. “Can’t figure out what the fuck it was, but it must’ve been good.”

“I— I never actually congratulated you.” Joel murmurs after a moment. He had been a little raw when he realized Tommy had been living a charmed life here and he had lost so much, Tess, Bill and Frank, another piece of his soul, on his way to rescue him. Then Tommy’s disbelief about Caroline and his own budding joy about fatherhood had brought up the loss of Sarah. It hadn’t been pretty, but he had regretted his harshness. He reaches out a hand, hard from the man he had become and the work he had done, to shake Tommy’s. “I’m happy for you.”

“Thanks.” The handshake, warm and firm and full of things the Miller brothers aren’t very good at saying out loud, makes Tommy falter and clear his throat a little to push away the emotion. “I, uh…I’m doing my best. And that’s all I can do. Because Maria and the baby deserve the world, but the world is pretty fucked up these days.”

“It’s always been fucked up.” Joel corrects. “Now it’s just more obvious.” He lets go of the hand and shuffles slightly.

“Fair enough, I guess.” Tommy chuckles, but he rubs his hand on the back of his neck. “Did you…need anything else?”

Joel shuffles again and feels like a teenager. “Do any - uh, is there birth control available?” He asks, not wanting to get you pregnant again. At least not now. Although that afterthought shocks him.

A sort of lopsided smirk forms on Tommy’s face, and he chuckles — the sentiment clear as day. “The ladies have developed some interesting but not full proof methods. It’s sort of frontier-style out here. In that regard and a lot of others.”

“Yeah.” Joel nods and sighs. “I’m fucking fifty-six years old, Tommy.” He huffs. “Don’t need to be knockin’ her up every time I’m feelin’ frisky.”

“For her sake way more than yours.” Tommy laughs again. “I’d go see the Doc,” he advises. “She was a general practitioner before the world went to shit, so now she’s our town doc.”

Joel nods, knowing that it needs to be done. Tess couldn’t have anymore kids, so it had never been a problem. You’ve only had sex a few times since being in Jackson, and every time, Joel had pulled out the second you had cum so he could jerk off.

“Sounds like you’re planning a damn good Valentine’s Day,” Tommy teases.

He snorts, shrugging slightly and the slight grin on his face is purely male. “I don’t know if I’ve ever been this relaxed. And she’s a damn beautiful woman, who loves me.” He admits, proud of that fact.

“If you’re relaxed with a baby around, that’s proof she’s not your first.” Shaking his head once more, Tommy slaps Joel hard on the shoulder. “Go home to ‘em. I’ll see you tomorrow with the stuff you’ll need to build.”

“Thanks.” He sends Tommy a grateful look and quickly slips out the door. Eager to get back to you, Caroline and Ellie. Even though Jackson is safe, he feels better when you are close.

******

Ellie is sitting beside Caroline’s bassinet in the living room when Joel gets home. Her old, weathered joke book is in her hands and she glances up when the door opens to let Miller inside. “Shhh,” she puts one finger to her lips performatively and whispers. “She’s so fuckin cute when she sleeps.”

“Yes she is.” Joel can agree as he quietly walks over to the bassinet. “She slept the entire time?” He asks the other girl, proud of how easily she’s bonded with her. Despite not like diaper changes, Ellie loves Caroline and would often ask to hold her when you had stopped for the night.

"She fussed a little," Ellie admits, but she holds up her book. "I giggled her off to sleep."

“More like bored her to sleep.” Joel snorts. “You certain she’s still breathing?” He jokes, even though he can see that she is, it’s simply for the pleasure of watching Ellie scowl at him.

"Caroline thinks I'm funny." The teenager defends, though she knows making a baby laugh isn't too hard in the first place. "Even if you don't share our refined sense of humor."

“Yeah.” He huffs and rolls his eyes, resisting the urge to smirk. “Keep telling yourself that, cupcake.”

“Shouldn’t be surprised.” Though it comes with a huff, Ellie keeps her voice down. Caroline is sleeping, after all. “We’re cuter than you, too.”

He shoots Ellie a look that is half amused. “That’s not hard to do.” He admits. “But I’m smarter…..and meaner.”

“You wouldn’t be mean to us.” Ellie bats her eyelashes dramatically, knowing fully fucking well that Joel can be mean. That he has been mean. But never to the baby.

“No, I wouldn’t.” He might have been at one point to the older girl, but now he would die protecting her. “Did you know there’s a library in town?”

“There is?!” Her voice jumps up at that and she immediately ducks as though her volume were some kind of tangible weapon that she needs to get away from the baby immediately. “There is?” She hisses quietly instead.

“Yeah.” Joel chuckles at the way Ellie’s eyes light up. You aren’t the only one with an affinity for reading. “Planning on going over tomorrow to get a card. Wanna come?”

“Hell yes.” The teenager nods with enthusiasm. “Is it a big library?” He must have heard about it from Tommy, which means it’s worth bragging about. Tommy Miller loves to brag about Jackson.

“It’s filling up a store, so it has to be big.” Tommy had told him where to go. “They compiled all the books in town and any they brought in.”

"You're on, old man." Ellie hops up off the sofa, apparently having thought of something either extremely important or just imminently elsewhere that she needs to be. "I hope you're ready to carry books back, cause I'm getting out as many as they'll let me."

“Bring a bag, brat.” He reaches out to swipe her head with his hand, to mess up her ponytail, but she ducks. “Where are you going?” It’s a safety question, even though the town is safe. He still wants to know.

"Upstairs." She assures him. "I'm not leaving after dark."

“Good.” Joel lifts a brow. “Keep it that way. Even though it’s safe here, shit can happen.”

"I know." She agreed to follow Joel's rules, and she meant it. Even if he can be a complete nag sometimes, she knows by now that he is the one person to trust over anybody else in her life. Joel said not to go out after dark, so she doesn't. End of story.

“Thank you.” Joel relaxes slightly and rolls his shoulders back after Ellie agrees to stay close. “Don’t say anything to her about the library card.” He cautions her. “It’s gonna be a surprise.” He hopes you haven't heard about the library yet, but if you have, you haven't had time to get a card or you would have been raving about it.

“Got it.” The teen smirks and heads for the stairs.

Joel rolls his eyes again and looks down at Caroline softly before taking off his jacket and boots. He's comfortable here, and its a surprise to find out how quickly he could readjust back to fatherhood. He takes the soiled diaper from earlier and brings it over to the bucket that you keep them soaking in. Deciding that he will wash them so they can hang dry in the kitchen overnight. Having a baby in a post apocalyptic world is kind of like having one in frontier times, in his opinion. A lot more work, and those conveniences he had taken for granted with Sarah are a thing of the past.

******

It’s been a hell of a long time since you could feel safe enough to nap, but Jackson is unique in that it actually feels safe. When you wake up it’s after dark and the house is quiet — which really just means that Caroline is quiet. Joel and Ellie habitually keep their voices lower and their steps lighter because the instinct of having to stay hidden is so ingrained. The fact that there’s no sound from downstairs now is a good thing. Hopefully Caroline has managed to nap and Joel can do…whatever Joel is doing.

Joel stirs the pot on the stove, throwing together a stew to eat. The leftover vegetables from last year’s growing season were all canned, but he was grateful for them nonetheless. When he hears you on the stairs, he pokes his head out of the kitchen. “Got some tea ready.” He calls out softly.

"You're perfect," you hum with a grateful sigh, stretching languidly on the last step before you hit the bottom floor. The air of domesticity here is deep, in a way that could almost make you forget what the world outside is like. At least for a little while.

“You just love that I’ve learned how to make your tea.” He snorts and leans over to press a kiss to your forehead when you drift by him on the way to the counter for the cup he has set out.

"I'm appreciative." For so, so many things that Joel does. Not being the only person in charge of Caroline's survival and happiness as well as your own has lifted an enormous burden from your shoulders and you can only hope that you have helped him in even a fraction of the same way. "Thank you, honey."

“Of course.” He nods and turns back to the stew. “Figured I’d make some dinner, we still have half a loaf of that oat bread.” He shakes his head. “Amazing how we are actually eating bread….Considering.”

“We’re all eating like hippies,” you joke, leaning in to Joel’s side as he stands at the stove. It’s a comfort just to be close to him, and you’re much closer now than you were even weeks ago. “Anything but wheat flour.”

“That’s true.” He chuckles and reaches around you to snag your waist.

“Thank you for letting me nap.” A perfect rest is one you get to take together, but those were few and far between on the road. Now that you’re in Jackson, being able to sleep next to him every single night is an absolute luxury.

“You’re welcome.” Joel leans in and brushes his nose against your cheek. “You were up with her last night, you deserved to rest.” He reminds you. “I got the diapers washed. They are hanging up on the back porch.”

“What did I ever do to deserve you?” He’s been such a huge help, and even helped you get a better rhythm even in your one-on-one time with Caroline.

“Are you asking or lamenting?” He jokes and pats you on the butt gently. “So I talked to Tommy.” He murmurs. “There’s a doctor in town that we should go see.”

“Are you not feeling well?” Concern is written on your face instantly, eyebrows drawing up in worry.

“No, nothing like that.” He instantly replies, trying to ease your fears. “They have some….methods of birth control.” He feels his own cheeks heating up because of bringing this up. “If you— I mean, if we’re— you know— uh—”

"Oh." He's blushing, and that's just about the most adorable thing you've ever seen. "Then yes. We should definitely go see that doctor."

“I just— I don’t want you to— not if—” he’s never been great with words and he just shrugs after a moment. “I don’t think you should be havin’ another baby right now.” He murmurs. “I know back before everything, they told my….ex, that she should wait at least three years before another baby and fuck- by then I’ll be sixty fuckin’ years old.”

"Honey..." Turning into Joel's side completely, you tip your head back to offer him a smile and put your other arm around his waist to hold him close. "We'll do our best to keep up with effective birth control. We'll be as safe as we can be. Sometimes...sometimes things just happen. We know that. We have the result of that, sleeping in the other room. Family planning doesn't exactly work the way it used to."

“No, it doesn’t.” He leans in and presses his lips to yours. “But I want you to be healthy, not worn out because my pullout game isn’t the best.”

"If it happens again, we'll love them just as much as we love Caroline." You are absolutely certain of that, without hesitation. "And if it doesn't? She's already got one fantastic big sister around to help take care of her, and another big sister that she can hear stories about whenever Daddy is willing to tell them."

“I—” he bites his lip and shakes his head. “It’s been-“ air whooshes out of his lungs. “A long time since I’ve been called that.” Caroline being alive and healthy makes the last time he heard that particular phrase only bittersweet, the ache in his heart still there, but it doesn’t bleed this time. “I still can’t believe I have her some days.”

"We're lucky to have you, Joel." That is something you believe with all of your heart, even on the bad days and the hard days and the days when it all feels like too much. "All three of us."

“Everything changed.” Joel acknowledges. “But I’m glad I could keep the three of you safe. Get you here.” He tilts his head. “Do you know how far we are from your family land?”

"The last I heard from anybody, they were actually on the outskirts of Jackson." Having been too afraid to ask, you've kept it to yourself that you might actually have a family home out here with sentimental things that once belonged to your cousins. "I have the address, but...I assume that since the street isn't part of new Jackson, it must be either wrecked or overgrown."

“Do you want me to ask around?” He asks quietly, squeezing your hip gently. “See if I can get out there?”

"Honestly, if it's still around? I would want to go too. But I don't want to risk taking Caroline out to somewhere dangerous again." You shake your head at that idea, not liking it at all. "Not when she's finally safe again."

“No.” Joel is immediately shaking his head. “Our daughter stays behind the walls.” He insists, voice flat and final. Even though you don’t want to take her out, Joel wouldn’t allow it.

“Never a sentence that I thought I would find comforting, but here we are.” The two of you stand silently for a long moment before you sigh. “I know there’s probably nothing left of them,” you repeat, hating how final that is after everything. “But I’d rather know for sure. There might be a memory or two left in the house.”

“Then we will go.” Joel hates that you haven't found any of your people yet, although they may just not be around much. It’s a vain hope, but he has it for you.

“And we’ll go see the doctor.” That’s a more pressing trip, if you’re honest with yourself. Any birth control at all would be useful, even if it’s only by a little.

“I don’t have to be inside you.” Joel murmurs softly, knowing that as much as he loves your cunt around you, your health is more important.

“There are plenty of ways to be intimate.” With one hand on his chest, you rub small, soothing circles there for a second and kiss his jaw before his lips. “But we’re still going to go see that doctor. I like having sex with you too much to just give it up cold turkey.”

He huffs out a small laugh and he smirks at you. “Got addicted, huh? Even when you sometimes have to ride?”

“Don’t be so smug.” An attempt to frown or even look somewhat stern fails you, though, and you end up throwing a matching smirk back at him. “I…like that we don’t go our separate ways the next morning.”

“You and Caroline, Ellie…” he pulls you closer. “You’re all that matters to me. Keeping you safe.”

Cup of tea and simmer stew pot long forgotten, you turn in Joel’s arms to face him fully and put your arms around his neck. “We love you too, handsome. All of us. In very different ways.”

He grumbles slightly but he doesn’t argue. Knowing that it’s useless to argue with you. “Yeah, yeah.”

You hum, grinning that he doesn’t protest it anymore, and kiss the tip of his nose. “You’re cute when you blush.”

He rolls his eyes and his hands slide down to your ass. “Yeah? You’re cute when you’re naked underneath me and chanting my name over and over again.”

“Joel…” A knot in your belly forms instantly, making you squeeze your thighs together in turn.

He grins at you and winks. “Good thing you took that nap, huh?” He teases softly. “Now you need to eat a good meal to make sure you won’t pass out on me from hunger.”

“This,” you huff, laughing at the way the two of you have just clicked back together so easily over the last few months. “This is why we need that doctor. We’re too horny for our own good.”

“Kind of hard to fuck on the road.” He reminds you with a laugh of his own. “Now we have a bed, a door that locks.”

“And a real mattress and box spring for that old man back of yours.” Not that you don’t appreciate it too, of course. But of the two of you, Joel definitely has more aches and pains.

“Damn right. And the bed is comfortable.” He snorts, remembering that shitty, worn out mattress he had in Boston. “Did I mention that Ellie isn’t sleeping three feet from us?”

“And we don’t have to worry about Caroline rolling or crawling away, or any of a million other things.” The fingers of one of your hands thread into his hair and you hum as you press yourself against him right there in the kitchen. “Of course, there’s also the kitchen counter…”

The way his cock twitches in his pants is a good indication that he had been thinking along those lines too. “Kid’s upstairs, reading.” He grunts, pressing his lips under your ear just like he’s discovered makes you shiver. “Baby’s asleep. If we make it quick, we can do it.”

“I should just stop wearing pants around you,” you tease, already shifting both of you backward so that you’re the one pressed up against the counter. “So we can be as fast as we want.”

“We can always find you some skirts.” He hums, sliding his hands down to your jeans and around the front to unbutton them. “When you’re inside Jackson. I wouldn’t want you to wear them outside the walls.” He says seriously, frowning slightly at what could possibly happen. Clickers or humans.

The soft chuckle that escapes you is a little rougher than usual just because he's shoving your jeans down your hips, but you still shrug your shoulders. "We're horny, not stupid. Skirts are only for when it's safe."

Joel has become a little feral now that your relationship has progressed back to physical. There’s something about you being the mother of his child that seriously gets Joel going. He had never had that since his ex had disappeared out of his and Sarah’s life so early, but he was not upset with the discovery. Your body was softer, marked by motherhood and he found it incredibly sexy. “Then you need to see the doctor.” He growls. “Because I might just bend you over a table every time Caroline naps.”

He barely has your jeans pulled off in time for you to hop up on the counter, legs open for him to fill the space between even as you start to work open the belt he wears day in and day out. Frenzied kisses take up the space where there could be more words, but oxygen is precious when you're doing your damnedest to drown in each other while your baby girl sleeps.

Most intimate moments were rushed, quiet and out in the open. Using his fingers on you to give you pleasure while the girls slept. Because of that, he knows exactly how to touch you to make sure you are wet.

"Joel—" You have to bite back a whine the second his fingers find you, already wet and aching just from talking about sex and not even from him touching you. Hell, kissing him is still enough to make your cunt bottom out and you hope that never changes.

“That’s it, baby.” Joel growls against your neck softly. “Want that pretty pussy nice and wet. You want to cum before I fuck you? Or do you want to cum on my cock?” He swirls his fingers around your clit and then presses them into you to curl up and strike against that spongy spot deep inside near your cervix.

You could protest that there isn’t time for two, but you know Joel would make it happen. He’s learned your body fast, and how to wring pleasure out of you as fast or as slow as he wants to. “O—on you,” you manage to pant out two coherent words and try for a few more. “Want to cum on your cock, Joel. Please?”

“I love when you beg, baby.” He groans, having heard so many people beg him over the years. Often for their lives when there’s no saving them, but this is what he loves. You, begging for him to make you feel good. “You’ll cum on my cock, baby. All over it.”

“Always do.” The way you shift forward on the counter is proof of how eager you are, in case he wasn’t sure. Every time you shift or roll your hips, his fingers stroke that spot again and you have to bite back a moan.

“I know you do.” He grunts, unbuttoning his pants to pull his hard cock out. “Always so good for me.”

It goes back to the first time he called you his good girl, and you know it. That was the moment you called it quits on any resistance whatsoever. “Always. Fuck, always, baby.”

Joel smirks and pumps his cock, listening to make sure that the kid isn't coming downstairs. He doesn't want to scar her, but he doesn't want to wait to get you upstairs. He groans when he has to pull his fingers out of you and hums. "You ready?"

"I don't think there's ever a time when I'm not." You nod enthusiastically, glancing up at the closed door that leads from the kitchen to the living room, and when no sound can be heard from your sleeping daughter you look back to Joel. "Take what you want, baby. I'm just along for the ride."

It only takes a moment to notch himself at your entrance, his lips fused with yours as he starts to push inside you. Loving how tight you immediately squeeze his cock inside your walls.

Every sound you have gets poured into that kiss, muting your moans and whines so they don't echo through the house. In this position the best thing you can do is hang onto the counter and let Joel take what he wants — exactly as you said — and that kiss is another perfect way to stay connected to him as he starts to move.

There’s a perfect rhythmic pace he can keep that doesn’t hurt his back and still keeps your toes curling in their socks. He’s tested it, although he never told you and he uses that pace now. Holding onto your hips as he rocks into you again and again, swallowing your moans greedily as he basks in your utter want of him.

One hand has to move to his shoulder, clutching his shirt as he fucks into you hard enough that it feels like he's stealing your breath but not so hard that you'll end up walking funny and give away what you've been up to. No doubt Ellie has noticed by now, but there's no reason to rub it in. There's just nothing better than basking in Joel's full attention. In being his sole focus. lt's like coming home.

Once he’s broken away from your lips, there’s not a part of your exposed skin that Joel doesn’t kiss. Loving to nibble and kiss along your neck and chest. Inhaling the milky scent of your breasts, heavier since Caroline is due for a feeding when she wakes up. Though he doesn’t touch them, knowing they need to be left alone for his child. “Fuck.”

"So good." With his ear right by your mouth, you can just gasp and sigh right there for only him to hear. "Always fuck me so good."

“This little pussy was made for me.” Joel grunts, loving how you spasm around him when he pours filth into your ears. Sometimes his fingers and words get you off so quickly, he’s amazed you haven’t been worked up all day. “Squeezin’ me so tight.”

"Can't help it," you chuckle low in his ear and have to bite back a gasp when his hips hit yours sharply. "Your cock's just so fucking big.'

He snorts and twitches inside of you at the breathless praise. “You gonna cum for me, pretty girl?” He asks, moving one hand down so he can rub your clit as he thrusts into you.

"'M close, baby." The breathless promise comes on a whine and you have to work to not just let your mouth hang open and Joel's rhythm picks up and the broad pad of one of his thumbs skates over your slick, swollen clit. "So fucking close, oh god."

His teeth snap together, breathing heavily and his face is almost set in a determined frown. Watching you as his hips shuffle forward to fill you again and again. Loving how your body heaves and lurches every time he swipes his fingers over your clit, almost overstimulated - you’re so close. “Be my good girl, baby.” He growls. “Cum for me.”

Whether you’re responding to his praise or to the near overstimulation is anyone’s guess, but it’s only a moment later that your legs start to tense and shake around his waist and your mouth falls open in a silent sob as you come apart for him.

The heat, the pressure around his cock is exquisite as you start to cum. The rush of wetness helps him move when your walls squeeze tight and he loves the nearly non existent sound you make. Taking his hand off your hip, grabbing the back of your neck and dragging your lips back to his as he fucks you through your orgasm.

These are the times — mid orgasm with a foggy brain and no filter for your thoughts — that you wish Internally for another baby. Accident or planned, it doesn’t matter to you. It’s just that flash of a thought as your climax washes over you that you know will subside again but it makes you hold onto his kiss that much tighter. Grateful for what you do have. For him and for Caroline, above all.

He feels your body relax, going boneless as he continues to batter against your fluttering walls. He’s close but he can’t pull out just yet. “Fuck.” He groans. “So pretty when you cum.” The praise is whispered against your lips.

“Just for you,” you promise in a shaky breath, practically gulping down air as the intensity of your orgasm subsides.

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum.” He hisses, regret lacing his tone because he’s having to pull his hips back. Letting go of you and wrapping his hand around his cock as he starts to quickly jerk himself off, the other hand poised to catch the mess so there isn’t a huge cleanup of the counters.

If you could have gotten there quickly, you’d be on your knees to catch every last drop, but you definitely move a little bit slower after he’s just gotten done fucking you — mostly just because your legs are jelly. Instead you watch Joel with dark eyes, satisfied temporarily but always wanting. It’ll be another few hours before he can even think of going again, but that doesn’t mean you won’t daydream about him.

It’s not as satisfying as when he’s buried to the hilt inside, but he can’t risk it, can’t risk you. Clenching his jaw, he hisses slightly as he stops stroking his cock, panting as he looks up at you and leans in to kiss you once more.

“I love you.” Simple words, but loaded with so much emotion that you sigh a little after saying them. “So much, Joel.”

“I love you too.” He promises, pulling back to take his cum filled hand to the sink to wash before he gets a rag for you. “Don’t ever think I don’t.”

“Well it was a little touch and go there while we weren’t anywhere near each other,” you tease, flashing him a grin. “But I don’t anymore. I promise.”

Snorting, Joel rolls his eyes at you and after washing his hands, he soaps up a rag and comes back over to you to clean you up. “Hush.” He grumbles, biting his lip as he spreads your thighs again.

“Never.” Instead your grin widens and you steal another kiss while he cleans you up. Only after that do you carefully hop down from the kitchen counter to pull your clothes back on.

Right as you are buttoning your pants, he hears the first little squawk from Caroline and grins. “I’ll change her.” He tosses the rag into the diaper pail to soak. “Drink your lukewarm tea before you come feed her.” He orders, kissing your temple before he walks out of the kitchen, already buttoned and buckled back up.

“Yes, sir.” There’s not even any point to protesting. You just pick up your tea and admire his ass as he strides out of the room.

Caroline is definitely feeling better, waving her arms and squealing when she sees Joel. The bubbly, happy grin on her adorable face never fails to bolster his spirits, which are always pretty high after being intimate with you. “Just like your momma.” He teases as he picks her up with a grunt. “Always squealing.”

With the door open it isn’t really difficult, but you still lean out from the kitchen and huff just loudly enough for him to hear. “I heard that.” Not that he’s wrong. Not at all.

Joel chuckles, nudging his nose against his daughter’s cheek and listening to her gurgle. “You were supposed to, baby.” He tells you, grinning at Caroline when he pulls back. “You were supposed to.”

******

Joel spends a decent portion of the next few days out of the house, helping Tommy with some vague project that you don't think much of. He had taken Ellie with him once but she has been mainly at home with you. The town is enjoying their preparations for Valentine's Day at the end of the week, and from time to time you've found yourself daydreaming about Joel doing something spontaneously romantic but you aren't expecting anything. It's not as though he can pop into a jewelry store or go down to the sweet shop for chocolates. Even flowers aren't really on the docket these days. It doesn't matter. Not really. All that matters is that he comes home safe every night, and Joel definitely does that.

It had been a pain in the ass, but the pram is finished; even Tommy is impressed with the final product and Joel had used some stuffing from cushions to make a padded layer on the bottom to make it more comfortable for Caroline. It’s got a back that can be adjusted to tilt up for when she’s older and a cover for the sun or rain. Now, he’s just waiting on the varnish to dry and it will be ready.

It’s late morning when he comes back from Tommy’s today, looking as pleased with himself as Joel ever does, and your plan to go down to Jackson’s seamstress to inquire about a skirt or dress goes by the wayside immediately. “Hey handsome.” Out on the porch with Caroline against your chest, you wave to him when you see him approach.

“Hey.” He climbs the steps with only a slight protest from his knees and gives Caroline a quick kiss before letting his own linger on your lips for a moment. “So, they are having a movie tonight for the celebration.” He reminds you, as if that’s not been the topic of the town for days.

“Did you want to go?” He hasn’t mentioned it at all so you wondered if maybe he was ignoring Valentine’s altogether.

“Was thinking that if you wanted to go, we could.” He shrugs one shoulder and shuffles his feet as he reaches into his jacket pocket. “Unless you want to stay home and read.”

“Read what?” You’re looking at his face, not his hands, and it takes an enigmatic smile from Joel before you glance down and see a very official card sitting in his hand. It’s a business card for the old Jackson public library, printed and crisp, but when he flips it over you see your name scrawled there in beautiful cursive and gasp. “What is this?”

“There’s a town library.” Joel explains. “They collected all the books out of the houses and any they brought back from scouting missions.” He smiles. “Thought you might like to go browse and check some out.”

“Honey.” Instantly your arms are around him, squeezing him into your side so you can show him how grateful you are without crushing Caroline between you in the process. “This is incredible. A library? That’s — it’s so sweet of you.” The grin on your face is wide, spreading to overtake you by the second. It might not be just anyone’s perfect Valentine’s gesture, but it’s definitely yours. “Thank you, love.”

He huffs in relief that you aren’t upset at his gesture. “You’re welcome. I knew you would want to read some more.”

“I wonder if they gathered up all the kids' books, too?” More bedtime stories for Caroline would be amazing as she gets older. Right now lullabies still do it when she’s fussy, but you don’t expect that to last much longer.

“I’m sure they have. Which will be amazing for Caroline.” He had read to Sarah from the time she was a baby and wonders if they have some of the books he had read to her. It would be a little tradition to read them to his other daughter.

“Thank you,” you murmur again, leaning against him and pressing a kiss to his cheek before you look down at your daughter. “Can you say thank you Daddy? For being awesome and loving us so, so much?”

“You have to come with me to get the next present.” He snorts, enjoying the way that Caroline automatically coos and waves her arms.

“There’s a next present?” Your head tilts in curiosity and a smile cracks across your face again. “Mr. Miller, you’ve been busy.”

“Not like I can get you flowers or chocolates.” He’s embarrassed by the surprise in your voice and he shrugs.

“You didn’t have to do anything at all. I still know you love me.” The thing about Valentine’s Day is that it has been so surprising to see it revived. It isn’t necessarily as surprising that he is embracing it. Not when he’s working so hard to relieve the sins of his past and whatever happened with Sarah’s mother.

“I know.” He picks up the backpack you had started using as a diaper bag for the baby and glances at you. “You want to carry her? Or do you want me to get our little princess?”

“I’ve got her for now, she’s comfortable.” Sometimes the biggest thing really is her comfort, so you’re not going to disturb your little girl for right now. “Where are we going?”

“Tommy’s workshop.” He picks up her little blanket and throws it over his arm. “Hopefully you like it, it’s more of a practical gift.”

“I’m sure I’ll love it.” If he thought of it? Put care and love into just thinking that you will appreciate it? Then whatever it is will be perfect.

Like all babies and families with babies, it takes a few minutes to get going. The pram should be completely dry, the fans blowing on it and he wonders if you will like to. Sure he could have tried to find one at an abandoned store, but for him, it was about making something. It had been a long time since he had done that and it had felt pretty good.

“Ellie seems like she’s adjusting okay to being back in school.” The walk over to Tommy’s doesn’t take long, and you’re curious to see what he’s been up to with his brother.

“She’s enjoying the school having zero to do with FEDRA.” Joel agrees. “I think she likes the days they take care of the livestock the best. She loves animals.”

"She loves them and she's great with them." Your free hand slips into Joel's while you walk, enjoying the sunny, clear day in spite of the cold. "That's a hell of a valuable skill set in this world. Keeping the livestock happy and healthy is vital."

“Yes it is.” Joel nods. “Tommy and John think they might have gotten that old grist mill working.” He tells you in passing. “The kids are going to have a class on that, come next week.”

"Everything but wheat flour," you joke with a shake of your head. "Although that oat bread was pretty good. John's got a good thing going in that bakery he set up."

“Exactly and there’s a sack of barley seeds they want to plant and make cornmeal.” He has been impressed with Jackson so far and wants to stay here. There’s no reason to go back to Boston and he would never put his daughter under FEDRA control.

Squeezing his hand, you smile up at Joel and cradle Caroline with your other hand. "It's nice here."

“It is.” There are moments where Joel doesn’t trust it, he’s waiting for the other shoe to drop. Waiting for the ugliness to infect Jackson, but he wants this to be a haven, for you and Ellie and Caroline. Especially for Caroline. He wants her to be able to grow up without being exposed to the rawness of the outside world as much as possible. To give her a chance at normalcy. “You want to stay, sweetheart?” He asks quietly.

"I can't imagine any place being better for us." On your chest, Caroline is looking around her with the characteristic wonder of an infant, and you grin and place a kiss on her little tuft of hair. "Your brother is here, there's reliable shelter and food. Ellie is safe to the point where she's enjoying school. It's...I'm not going to call it perfect but it feels like spitting in the face of the universe if we just walk away."

“I feel like the other shoe is going to drop, but it’s also the most relaxed I’ve been in years.” Joel admits. “I’ve- there’s more to worry about than me. And I’ve worried a lot since Lake City.” He had tried to hide the panic attacks, but you had seen signs of them. “I think we should stay.”

"You're entitled to worry." It's just a quiet reminder, but it's important that Joel remember that he has permission to feel whatever way he feels about things. Having a family and being a protector in this environment is a stressful thing. "But you're also entitled to be happy."

“That’s the hard part of this to swallow.” Joel admits, squeezing your hand gently. “It’s alright, baby. I want to stay, if you do.”

"If not for us, then for the girls." That's really the key here, and you pick up his hand to press a kiss to the back of it. "I would follow you anywhere. But they deserve whatever childhood we can give them."

“Yes they do.” The door to Tommy’s shop is just up ahead and he smiles slightly. “Hopefully this next gift will help that. At least for one of them.”

"What did you do?" At this point you're too curious not to feel bubbly about it, and you desperately wish the younger Miller brother's workshop had good windows.

“You’ll see.” He chuckles at your curiosity and lets go of your hand so he can open the door. “After you.”

"Come on, baby," you murmur to Caroline, grinning as you duck into the workshop.

Sitting in the middle of the space is a beautifully put together and obviously handmade perambulator, with a padded cloth bottom and a sun visor that...seems to be moveable as well as handcrafted. "Oh my god..." you breathe, stepping into the room further and bending over the pram with tears in your eyes. "Baby...did you make this?"

“I know I could probably find one, somewhere…” Joel can’t tell if you love it or hate it, so he shuffles slightly. “But I wanted to build one that you could use for a long time.”

"Honey, it's beautiful!" The tears in your eyes are pure love and gratitude, and you backtrack immediately to give him a kiss before going to inspect the pram that he put together with his own two hands. "It—it's incredible. You...how long did this take you?"

“It’s what I’ve been working on this week.” Joel explains, walking over to it to show you the shade and how it can flip down to become a basket to put things in.

"I can't believe you did this." There is such a wonder in your voice. Awe and love, and shock that anyone would put this much work into such an enormous gesture.

“Figured she was going to get too busy and too fidgety to haul around on your chest all the time.” He tells you. “Plus it can sit up when she’s really moving.”

"Do you want to see what Daddy made you, honey?" Caroline keeps reaching for the pram like she knows it's hers, and you look to Joel hopefully. "Is it ready for her to try out?"

“Yeah.” He holds up her blanket. “Figured you want a cover on her since she’s not right up against you.”

"It's perfect," you murmur again. Unwrapping her from your chest is a careful process, but soon a squirming little girl is ready to be set down in her very first pram and she giggles with glee just as soon as you lay her blanket over her. "Daddy made you the perfect little pram so we can push you around and let you see town without having to be attached to my chest the whole time."

“Tommy helped too.” Joel admits, pleased that you seem thrilled with the pram. “He wants to make one for Maria now.”

"Brand new family heirlooms." It's a magical and unexpected gesture, that you reach down to tickle Caroline's belly and can't resist kissing Joel, as well. "This kind of puts my Valentine's surprise to shame, babe."

“No it doesn’t.” Joel immediately frowns and shakes his head. “You don’t have to do anything for me.”

"You didn't have to do anything for me, either." With a grin, you lean over and kiss his cheek again while Caroline looks around her pram in wonder. "I went to see the doc the other day." He's been busy — apparently building you a damn stroller with his own two hands — so you had taken it upon yourself to go in the meantime.

“Yeah?” Joel’s eyes widen slightly and he looks Caroline in her pram to you. “And?”

"And." He looks like he might jump up and down from excitement, and you can't help but laugh. "She had a diaphragm for me."

He frowns and tries to remember what the hell that is. It’s been a long time since he’s talked about birth control in depth. “That- that’s that thing that goes inside you before sex, right?”

“Right.” Another giggle escapes you, and you lean into his side. “It’s not full proof, but it’s something.”

“Yeah.” Joel knows that no birth control is perfect, but he feels better with that. “Do you still want to have me pull out?” He asks seriously.

“Is it irresponsible to say no?” You just want to feel him completely, but you’ll understand if he declines. You’ve already brought one baby into the world, the idea was to prevent two. “It’s your decision, love. All I care about is getting to be close to you.”

“I say we keep track of your cycle like you normally do.” Joel murmurs. “I’ll pull out when you’re ovulating.”

“In that case.” The grin on your face turns absolutely devilish. “No need to pull out tonight.”

Joel blows out a loud breath and reaches down to adjust himself. “That’s the best fuckin’ Valentine’s you could ever give me.”

“I thought you might like it.” Compared to what he’s done? It’s barely anything at all. But the chance to be as close to each other as possible is something you’ve both been craving as you’ve realized the depth of feelings you have.

“Love it.” Joel growls, reaching for you to pull you close and press his lips to yours for a quick and harsh kiss.

“Love it a lot. Got it.” You melt against him and bury your face in his chest, glad to be held in his arms for even a few moments at a time. “We’ll have some grown up time after the movie tonight?”

"Already asked Ellie if she would mind the bassinet being in her room." He tells you with a grin. "Bottles ready."

“Scheming!” You erupt into giggles, cheeks burning hot and desire starting to ache in your core. “You have been scheming.”— Today at 8:02 PM

"I have been scheming." He admits shamelessly. "And there's one more thing that I have to give you."Today at 8:07 PM

“Joel.” A pout comes with a tilt of your head and you shake it immediately. “Baby, no. You’ve already done so much.”Today at 8:12 PM

"This is something from me....for you." He promises softly. "I wanted to give you something that shows you how much I love you." He swallows. "Do you want it now, or do you want me to - you know, make it romantic?" Today at 8:25 PM

“I want you to do whatever will make you happiest.” Another soft kiss between you makes you melt that much more. “I’ll love it no matter what.”day at 8:33 PM

"I kind of want to give it to you now, before I lose the damn thing." Joel admits with a huff of amusement, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a faded velvet box.at 8:42 PM

“What…?” It may be a long while since the last time you walked into a jewelry store, but you still remember what a ring box looks like as your eyes flick between the box and Joel. “Honey?”day at 8:52

"It's- do you know how fucking hard it was to remember birthstones?" He snorts, shaking his head. "I wanted to get you something that had meaning. That's symbolic of how we came together."

He holds it out to you a little more surely and you realize your hands are shaking a little when you reach to open it. The ring inside has been cleaned, it's shining in the dim sunlight streaming into the workshop and the tears spill over immediately. "You—you figured out Caroline's birthstone?" It had never occurred to you to even try to think of what it would be, although you did figure out what her zodiac was while holding her one night right after she was born. y at 9:13 PM

"Yeah." He looks down at the ring and smiles. "There was a book in the library." He admits, not wanting you to think he was some kind of genius. "You told me when she was born, and I'm never gonna forget that." He bites his lip. "I was thinking you could wear it like an engagement ring or whatever, if you want."y at 9:18 PM

"Are you saying you want me to wear it like an engagement ring, or that I can think of it that way if I want to?" Slipping the ring out of the box, it's obvious immediately that it will fit you pretty perfectly and you wonder if Joel tried to do any sneaky measuring of your ring finger while you were sleeping or something like that.t 9:21 PM

He bites his lip and resists the urge to fold his arms over his chest. "I want- it's kind of up to you, baby." He reminds you. "I should ask you though, right?" He's talking to himself, rolling his eyes at how he is bungling it up. "Do you want to get married? If they do weddings here?"9:29 PM

If you were going to tease him, you would remind him that his brother and Maria got married. That there is something like marriage here in Jackson, even without the way weddings were in the past. And the end of the world, marriage is about a commitment between people. Not about a thousand dollar dress or haggling over the guest list. And honestly? That is the way you would have wanted it even back then. "Yes," you nod, that smile spreading back across your face as you hold your shaky hand out to him. "Yes, I absolutely do."35 PM

Joel takes the hint, carefully pulling the ring from the box and taking your hand gently to push the ring onto your finger. "It fits." He sighs out in relief. "Tying a string around your finger to measure it worked." He looks up into your eyes with a grin. "How do you like it?"t 9:41 PM

"It's perfect." Wrapping your arms around his neck, you press into his space and let yourself just breathe him in. Grateful for the coincidence that brought you together, for the accident that has sealed your connection, and for the love that has bound you. "I love you."

“I love you too, baby.” Joel vows softly, pressing his lips to yours. “Happy Valentine’s Day.”

______

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My Masterlist!

[chaos-bites]

💀 Subtle Hel Worship 🪦

Honor your ancestors or passed loved ones

Visit cemeteries; leave flowers at graves (with permission!!!)

Try veiling

Have a candle that reminds you of her (no altar needed)

Wear jewelry that reminds you of her

Keep a picture of her in your wallet

Have imagery of birch trees, cemeteries, skulls, snakes, wolves, or dogs (dogs are huge) around

Have a stuffed animal dog, wolf, or snake

Practice mindfulness; try meditation

Explore abandoned places (urb-ex; be safe!!!)

Take time to yourself every day to decompress

Drink relaxing teas or beverages; black tea or coffee is especially good or dark hot chocolate

Eat a comforting meal

Engage in activities you find calming; drawing, painting, crocheting, reading, etc.

Feel your feelings; cry if you need to, scream if you need to, etc.; find a healthy outlet for these emotions (drawing, boxing, dancing, etc.

Support homeless or animal shelters, healthcare or humanitarian organizations

Volunteer at homeless or animal shelters

Feed neighborhood dogs, cats, birds, etc.

If you have dogs, play with and take care of them; play with/take care of any pets c:

Cook a meal for someone you love

Donate supplies to animal or homeless shelters

Cook a warm meal for someone in need

Collect animal bones (please thank the animal's spirit after doing so)

Recycle, make/use compost (great with gardens)

Spend time with loved ones; spend time with any elderly or older folks that you love

Take care of your basic needs; eat three meals a day, get some movement into your day, take a shower when needed, etc.

Revisit things from your childhood; keep any stuffed animals from childhood or buy ones you've always wanted

Practice patience, especially with yourself

Take a walk at night, especially on the new moon (only if it's safe in your area!!!)

Have a nighttime/bedtime routine

Learn more about death; get more comfortable with the concept itself; focus on figuring out what your beliefs on the afterlife are (if any)

Collect old items or antiques; try to restore them or give them a fresh coat of paint/polish; keep them or give them to someone who will love them

Have compassion towards those who are often looked down on by the wider society, such as addicts or the homeless; donate to causes that aid them /their recovery

Eat an apple; go apple-picking; visit an apple orchard

Wear clothes that make you feel comfortable; when at home, get comfy!

Learn to get comfortable with change, especially necessary change; try spontaneous things, go outside your comfort zone, find effective ways to manage stress during changes

Take note of the seasons changing; maybe capture the moment of an Official Season Change™ in a painting or picture

Take time to reflect on yourself objectively; if you find yourself being unkind, take a step back

Observe the life cycles of animals; learn more about the natural world around you

Practice compassion and forgiveness towards yourself and others

Set healthy boundaries; learn what your personal boundaries are

Let go of what no longer serves you; release what you no longer need in your life

Go out in weather that reminds you of her if it's safe to do so (may sound weird, but I associate fog with her)

Be kind to children; play with them if offered

Start a new hobby - something that is calm and enjoyable; crocheting, carving, painting, etc.

Live your life unapologetically

-

I'll likely add more to this later as I feel it's incomplete. For the time being, this is my list of discreet ways to worship Hel. I hope this is helpful! Take care, everyone. 🩵

Link to Subtle Worship Master list

[darknight3904]

𝕿𝖍𝖊 𝕽𝖆𝖈𝖊

ᴀᴇᴍᴏɴᴅ ᴛᴀʀɢᴀʀʏᴇɴ x ꜰᴇᴍ!ᴏᴄ! ᴛᴀʀɢᴀʀʏᴇɴ

ᴘʀᴇᴠɪᴏᴜꜱ ᴘᴀʀᴛ / ꜱᴇʀɪᴇꜱ ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ /ᴍʏ ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ

132 AC

The High Septon’s words were nothing but muffled echos as Rhaella stood beside Heleana. Aegon bent his knee and The Conquerer’s crown was placed on his head. To the naked eye, this was a triumphant moment. Viserys’ eldest son, a crown on his head, a sword in one hand, the masses cheering for his health. 

Only a fool would back Aegon’s claim, and Rhaella was no fool. 

The sudden turn of chaos is what stopped her plotting. The roar of a dragon burned her ears as Rhaenys and Meleys stood in front of them. Rhaenys’ eyes scanned over the situation and landed on Rhaella. Her eyes squinted slightly as Rhaella gripped Heleana’s hand. Rhaella swore she saw Rhaenys’ lips twitch before she directed her dragon out of the pit. 

Beside her, Aemond was checking himself and her for any wounds from the blast of rock that Melys had created with her grand escape. 

“We’re going back to the castle, now.” He commanded, motioning for a guard to take his sister from Rhaella. 

“Aemond…” Rhaella looked up at him. 

Rhaella could run, she could do it. Run through the masses of small folk who were still screaming in terror, and jump down the hole Meleys had made. Sōna was large enough that ramming the huge doors to the pit would be no trouble. She could escape whatever plans the Hightowers were making for the Realm. 

" We are dragons, Rhaella. We will remain together, you and I. I don't plan on letting you go."

A shiver ran down her back as she recalled his words from the carriage ride here. Aemond was rarely so bold with his emotions, usually masking them behind an unreadable face and steely attitude. 

“Stay,” Aemond said looking at her, his single eye full of emotion. 

Rhaella found herself nodding and wrapping her hand around Aemond’s gloved one. 

“Let’s go home.” 

The next days were boring ones. Rhaella wasn’t permitted to go anywhere without an escort of two guards at all times. She found this to be annoying and invasive so she stayed in her chambers, only venturing out to eat her meals with Edric in his room beside hers. Whatever his opinions of Aegon being “king” he didn’t voice them. The old man instead asked mundane questions like how her dragon was or if she was practicing her sword skills. Rhaella answered them all and helped him eat as she did. 

“How is Aemond?” Edric asked suddenly one day during lunch 

“He is well,” Rhaella said 

Truthfully she had not seen much of Aemond since the day of the coronation. He had escorted her back to her chamber and then left. He had visited two days ago but only for a brief time, telling her of a beautiful flight he had taken with Vhagar around Kings Landing. Normally, Rhaella was all for hearing of Vhagar and her power but she wasn’t a fool. She knew Aemond was patrolling the city from above. There was always a chance for Rhaenrya and Daemon to make the short flight to Kings Landing from Dragonstone. 

“I hear he did not take the idea of you going to Highgarden well,” Edric said 

How did he even know of these things? He wasn’t even present in the carriage with them. 

“He…has requested that I remain here in the Capital,” Rhaella said slowly 

Truthfully she was still unsure of what Aemond had meant that day. She understood that he didn’t want her to leave but he never gave a real reason to it. Her handmaid had suggested that the prince might be jealous, but Rhaella had laughed at that. Aemond who seemed so aloof to all women was not about to be crippled by his childhood friend.

“He loves you,” Edric said suddenly 

“What?” Rhaella blanches at his sudden words 

“Aemond, he wants you to stay here with him because he is in love.” Edric smiled 

“Maester Edric, you are very wise but I think you are going mad.” Rhaella blushed 

“My dear. My eyes are no longer working but when they did I know what I saw. It brought me great joy to watch the way the two of you spent your time together.” Edric sighed like he was reliving a dream. 

“You are losing your mind,” Rhaella murmured, perhaps Edric was going mad the way many old people did as they drew close to death.

“You’re a rather rude young lady aren’t you?” He joked shifting slightly in his bed

“You raised me.” Rhaella smiled, thinking of the many years spent clutching at his hand in Runestone. 

“I did, something I am most proud of.” He said a smile on his face, “I think I did a marvelous job, considering I had no experience being a parent.” 

Rhaella took his hand in hers. It was warm and the skin was rough with age, almost leather-like as Edric squeezed her hand in his. A familiar comfort of a home she had not visited in so long. Runestone was a fuzzy memory in her mind after so many years in Kings Landing.

“Rhaella, my dear, I have always wanted you to be happy.” He said, “Aemond makes you happy.” 

Rhaella sighed, perhaps he was right, but how could she be happy with someone who helped steal the true heir's throne? 

“And what of Rhaenrya? And Daemon?” Rhaella asked 

“Your father’s opinion has not mattered to me in years. It should not bother you the way it does.” Edirc dismissed, “As for Rhaenrya…” 

Rhaella looked at Edric who mumbled something quietly under his breath. 

“What?” She asked, “I cannot hear you.” 

Edric’s tone dropped into just barely a whisper and Rhaella leaned in close to hear what he was saying. 

“Rhaenrya is our queen…she will come for her throne I have no doubts about that…” 

“Exactly my issue. How can I go to Aemond if he is in open rebellion against her?” 

Edric quickly shushed her with a gentle slap to the wrist. 

“You must not say things like that. Anyone could be on the other side of that door.” Edric scolded. 

“Then what would you have me do?” Rhaella asked, “You push me towards happiness, to Aemond, yet you speak against…” She quiets her voice, “You speak against the Hightowers and the greens. People Aemond is most definitely a part of.” 

“There are other ways, Rhaella, you do not have to fight this impending war… Aemond is young, I am sure you can change his mind…get him to leave with you.” Edric said 

“He will not just abandon everything here.” Rhaella scoffed, “He has everything anyone could want. He’s a Targaryen Prince with the largest dragon alive. He has every reason to stay.” 

“And just one reason to leave,” Edric said, “You, my dear.” 

Next Part

Everyone, Maester Edric, the father that stepped up. He is the #1 Rhaella and Aemond shipper. Captain of the ship if I do say so myself. 

Also, I realize I’ve never described him, you can imagine him however you want as long as it’s an old man. I picture Master Aemon from GOT usually when I’m writing for him. 

Following this part updates will move to roughly every other day/ every two days. I am starting my college semester up again and can't keep up with a daily schedule.

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[moonlightpeddler]

Hiatus

The game is on indefinite hiatus.

Demo

[Current word count without code: 11465 with two branches]

Life is unpredictable.

You have just been to your first party, with hope for a different, better, and more social future, but instead of waking up with a hangover, you wake up 13 months of coma later, severely ill and with no chance to build the life you wanted to live.

Confined at home, confined to the night by your medication, deprived of outside contact to keep stress away from you, and with food that tastes like iron, all you have is your loving family and the small village they have moved to during your long sleep.

The house is old, dilapidated, the neighbours unfriendly and distant, looking at you with strange eyes, whispering whenever you see them, treating you like your illness is contagious.

But why has your family never taken you to the hospital for a checkup? Since when do hospital doctors make frequent home visits, and only when their patient isn’t conscious?

What would happen if you open the curtains they tell you to keep closed?

The game is intended for a mature audience.

Blood

Violence

Self-harm (for a reason)

Murder

Assault

Brainwashing

Dysfunctional relationships

Co-dependency

Death

And many more.

Depending on the route you take, Cailean, your character, can not be said to be an innocent or good person, please make sure that you are okay with playing a non-human MC who might act accordingly.

Mending Yesterday pairs folk believes, old elements, and lore from different media, with Vampyr lifestyle to create a modern portrayal of vampires that retains the classic feel yet gives it a more down-to-earth presentation.

You take the place of an established character and turn the tale into your very own, form the adventure and how the protagonist faces his new reality.

Will you change Cailean’s behaviour over the course of the story, develop a new personality for your new life, or will you cling to your old self despite the consequences it could have?

Will you keep to yourself and your loved ones, build something new to spend your long life, or get involved in a struggle that isn’t yours? How will others see you, who are your friends and foes? Do you stick to those who are seemingly safe, or will you place your own judgement?

The game doesn’t give you an overpowered protagonist, you aren’t the chosen one, won’t save the world or change it in any meaningful way.

You are just a 19-year-old young man being in the wrong place at the wrong time, all you can do is live your own life that, in the grand scheme of eternity, is nothing but a fleeting picture.

Taking place in a fictional village in Ireland, the game takes a step away from the Urban-Vampire trope and focuses on dynamics commonly found in, very, rural places.

While I have abstained from using phonetics to make it easier for people not familiar with the country, selected sayings and use of words have been kept to preserve the feeling.

Mending Yesterday is most and foremost a horror-drama, character-driven and story-heavy, not a dating game. The only romantic candidate (male) is a central character and the relationship with him greatly influences the plot instead of being flavour or a sidenote; you can stay distant, friendly, close or even loving, all four options significantly shape your personal story.

Being a family-person, you will have to keep an eye on your parents and brother, how you react to the changes in your life, respond to situations, and how you treat them has a direct impact on how your adventure will go.

A character and relationship focused narrative requires you to think twice about how you interact with others, pay attention not only to yourself but those you meet, decide wisely about how to treat them and with whom you want to be close with.

There are relationship-stats you can and should check regularly, for they keep track not only of your bonds but could give you valuable information, yet they won’t ever tell you clearly what they mean.

Just like in real life, people aren’t open books.

Every choice you have to make is meaningful, it either changes or determines something important; you won’t be continuously prompted to make decisions. The game doesn’t bother with flavour.

Routes are roughly equally long, with several endings dedicated players can try to find.

Prologue

Cailean Morrison, whose place you take, is a 19-year-old geriatric-psychology freshman. Calm, quiet, and slightly distant, he was never good at making connections and even worse at maintaining them. He loves his family above all else, has a good heart, and is very fond of older folks.

James Morrison, Cailean’s father, 46 years old, family lawyer. He’s a sensible, somewhat emotional person, bad at dealing with negative experiences, and generally a kind soul.

Aileen Morrison, Cailean’s mother, 44 years old, elementary school teacher. While she loves her family and students, she can be very strict and vengeful, knows how to stay calm in difficult situations, and often keeps her emotions to herself.

Alfred Morrison, Cailean’s brother, 24 years old, investment banker. Although he was wild in his youth, he’s hardworking and cunning, and while usually perceived as friendly, he has well-hidden sharp edges and a ruthless nature.

Choices will determine which talent you are proficient in, while some increases might be obvious, others are hidden behind story-progression.

You can’t fail skill-checks, instead they will change the story depending either on which talent you are most versed in, or if you are generally lacking - and they might have an impact on how other characters feel about you.

The game is in active development. Planed additions include more visual elements, incidental music, and a compendium that tracks information the player has found (coming in the Chapter 1 update). As a solo dev who does everything by himself, music and visuals are not my priority and will be included only in major updates.