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dearestcynthiaw · 4 months

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Goodbye Stranger - House MD x Reader

Chapter one: World Weary

A young, mild woman, of noble decent, comes face to face with an infamous doctor, not just from the other side of the world but seemingly a whole other time. Will he believe her ridiculous, and quite frankly, impossible story? In House's mind, everybody lies, but is that so for this new, mysterious woman.

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This is my first fanfic in a long time, I'm quite new to Tumblr, so hello!

I'm absolutely infatuated with this series at the moment, so I thought I'd do a bit of writing and play with a concept that makes me ponder. This is very very loosely based on a original character that lives rent free in my mind. I've done a chunk of paintings of her so I'll post a few as headers on some of the chapters. The character in this will go nameless, and is intended to be a self-insert for those reading, therefore I've tagged it as a 'x reader'.

I'm not a doctor and I don't work in medicine so lots of this is research and a little help from a friend who is a nurse, so the knowledge in it will be hit or miss.

Anyway, enjoy!

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It had been a long, hot, blissful summer in the year of 1928. Newly September, the days were starting to get shorter and the trees were turning crisp and orange.

It had been quite a bad week, though bad was quite the understatement. Her uncle was on his deathbed. He’d suffered through a long bout of influenza that was seemingly impossible to recover from. She visited as often as she could, hoping that each visit wouldn't be the last. Her heart was heavy from knowing his death would eventually become inevitable. He had always been a man of great prowess and genuine kindness, which was a rarity in her family, and losing him would shatter her.

Moreover, her fiancé was hurried to hospital after a nasty accident at a rugby match. He hadn't been concentrating when running the length of the pitch, he tripped and was ambushed by the collective. His ankle looked horribly out of shape, one could only imagine how many degrees it had rotated. It looked almost entirely backwards.

Her Fiancé's hospitalisation and her uncle's sickness had caused the worst sleeping patterns. She'd barely had a few hours each night for the past week. As she laid in bed most nights, especially in the early hours of the morning, thoughts and worries flurried through her head. She lay there hoping to God everything would set itself straight.

The exhaustion had impacted every aspect of her day so far, and she had marched up to the central hospital, from her soon to be in-laws townhouse, she felt overwhelmingly drowsy and unsteady. Of course there was no transport to be seen for miles to cut down the walking distance and give her a couple seconds of peace. All servants were out of the house, and it had become increasingly difficult to hail a taxi.

She trudged through the bustling streets, avoiding streams of people surging towards her. She had arrived at roughly 13:11 pip-emma, give or take, hoping that her beloved was already awake and breakfasted, to spare the grumpiness.

Awkwardly she stood, though all else were seated, patiently waiting for the nurse to lead the way to her sweet fiance's room.

She had been called with the added 'Lady' positioned at the very beginning of her name. It had caused a slight shudder to run down her spine as the room of plenty turned to look in her direction, eyebrows quirking in curiosity.

She appeared quite out of place in the very centre of London in a hospital bustling with people who were much different to herself.

Although she never minded her title, she much preferred the simple 'miss'. 'Lady' carried too much sophistication and responsibility, the sort associated with cutting ribbons and giving out writing awards at local schools. It felt far beyond her, she’d always felt sort of, under prepared.

Standing there in her professionally ironed clothing and perfectly soft waved hair, being ogled at, made her feel uncomfortably separate from everyone else.

‘Just this way, You’ll find he’s in quite a pleasant mood today, we’ve been able to better control his pain since you’ve last seen him.’ The nurse turned to face the Lady, with a sweet smile as they walked the extensive, dismal hallways.

The door was ajar, and from the threshold she could see a well lit room, far different to the rest of the hospital. There were bouquets of flowers scattered about, along with ‘Get Well Soon’ cards that were crammed upon the limited surfaces. There were excessive amounts of sweetmeats and sugary treats upon the bed and sideboard. This man had only been admitted the day before and he already received a hefty amount of goods. It wouldn't be long before he had to pack it all up and head home.

She had been loudly interrupted from her thoughts with a cheerful ‘What-ho sweetheart!’. The nurse was quite right, he was much more sprightly today.

‘I say, take a seat, this chair or that, you might even be allowed to perch on my bed a while!’ Snorting, he motioned towards a patch on his bed that wasn’t decorated with an array of sweets.

‘You look quite at home here. Should I be assured that they’re looking after you well?’ Her eyes were glued to his bubbly expression. It was quite surprising for a man who had been writhing about in pain on a muddy pitch the day prior.

‘Quite, quite, very well indeed. Though, I can’t ever seem to get any service here. They’re always ignoring me. I don’t ask that much of them.’

It was almost certain that he did, it could only presume that he wanted to be pandered to and pampered as though he was on the coast of France in some lavish hotel.

She could only look at him with a sense of pity, she only saw a man who was in a great deal of pain and was pushing through with a gleaming smile.

She found she was at quite a loss for words, sympathising with him wouldn't do as he'd only push himself to show he wasn't entirely helpless. This always put him in a worse state. ‘Do you know when you might be coming home?’ was all she could think of after the momentary silence.

‘Oh yes, yes, it was supposed to be today, but I’ve asked to be held on until tomorrow. Charlie from the club said he’d drive me home.’

‘You don’t want me to take you home? I can do it later today when Dobson gets back, he has the key to the shed where my car is-’ Again she applied a bright smile, hoping she could be of help. ‘You’ll only have to wait till 3. It’s really not that long darling.’

‘Gosh no, I don’t like it when you drive, makes me feel like a helpless sod.’

Lightly exhaling and nodding she looked down at her hands in her lap.

And again he spoke; ‘You’ll have to bring me a glass of water dearest, I can’t get the attention of anyone at this bloody hospital. And I'm bloody parched!' He seemed to let out a sort of huff; boyishly crossing his arms.

As she stood and started to walk, he shouted after her ‘Oh! And grab a doctor for me too, there’s something I need him to see.’

With a sweet smile and a light nod she turned on her heel, heading back for that ominous, dark hallway.

A short way down she found a small cupboard, one with a tap and a couple glasses and other bits and pieces to accommodate patients and guests.

Just before fetching a glass, she lent over and placed her head on the counter, with her arms cradling her head. She let out a long exhale to release some of the stress of the day. The exhaustion was starting to catch up, she could so easily have a quick nap with her head on the cold surface.

Finally gathering the energy to move, she lifted a glass and ran the tap, making sure she didn’t fill the vessel with lukewarm water.

Someone must have closed the door whilst she took her momentary rest, as when she turned she was confronted by the clinical white passageway that was firmly shut.

With a heavy push she dislodged the door from its threshold and found herself to be completely disoriented. Nothing looked the same. She thought that maybe she had taken a long route to this small cupboard and had simply forgotten the way she came.

She was completely surrounded by shelves upon shelves of supplies. There was only one other door and it was straight ahead. She turned again, wandering back inside the smaller room with the sink, studying her surroundings to see if there was another entrance that she might have overseen. Yet there was nothing.

She finally settled on advancing towards the opposite door, walking between the sets of shelves that carried an array of different peculiar items that resembled medical arsenal, none of which she had ever seen used before, but yet again, she didn’t spend much time hanging around hospitals to see what new advances were made in the field.

Just as she reached for the door handle, it began to pull downwards as a force was applied to the opposite side.

Jumping back in surprise and slight panic, feeling as though she had wandered into the wrong part of the building, she had no time to think out a possible explanation before the door was fully open.

The man that was stood there gave her a wide eyed look, appearing equally as perplexed as herself.

She quickly took in his figure, he was no doubt tall, taller then most of the men that she knew, and was scruffily dressed, she wondered if he might have taken a wrong turn too.

Taking in a quick breath she squeaked; ‘Are you lost too?’

‘No.’ He had a distinctive accent as he bluntly said the singular word.

‘I’m in your way, sorry, I’ll just-’ She peered to his side noting the direction she was heading.

‘How did you get in here?’ His eyebrow quirked.

‘Through that door.’ She pointed behind herself, his eyes quickly following her movement. There was nothing there. No door in sight, as though it had never been there to begin with.

She looked back at him in surprise ‘I could have sworn-’

With that he let out a bark of laughter. She felt ever so small and grew red in the face.

‘I must be tired, but I swear that's where I came from.’

‘No door there sweetheart, never was.’

Her mouth formed an ‘o’ shape, yet no sound came out. ‘I better get back to my fiancé.’

‘You haven’t answered my question.’ He attempted to stop her proceeding.

‘Well, I don’t really have much of an answer, because I certainly don’t remember entering through the door you’re standing in.’

‘This door was locked, did someone let you in? What you looking for, is it drugs? Could’ve just asked.’ Now she spotted his walking stick, he was leaning onto it, slightly blocking the way so he could continue interrogating her.

‘How dare you, I wouldn’t do anything like that.’

‘They all say that.’

‘Can I just get through? I need to take this to my fiancé.’ She raised the glass in her hand.

‘What ward?’

‘Somerset Ward.’ Her answers were getting shorter as she became frazzled by the constant questions.

‘Haven’t heard of that one before.’

‘It’s fine, I’ll find my own way.’

‘You still haven’t answered my question.’

‘Look, I really haven’t got a clue. Can I go now please?’ She gave a hapless sigh as she was getting to the end of her tether.

He stepped aside, yet seemed to follow her as she stepped into an unfamiliar hall. It was bright white, almost blinding. It looked like an entry to the hospital, one that she’d never seen before. There were people scattered everywhere, wearing clothing very different from her own. She turned back to look at her interrogator with a look of shock and slight horror. ‘What is this?’

‘A hospital.’ He started to limp away, towards what looked like a reception desk. ‘You coming?’ She could see him leaning over the desk having a bit of a natter with a person sat there. She slowly got closer observing every detail in front of her. The gadgets and do-dads that adorned each desk and clinical colours that decorated the whole room. She'd never seen anything like this before. She must've ended up on the other side of the building, maybe a more experimentative wing compared to the others.

She stepped closer to what looked like a reception desk, momentarily placing down her glass of water.

‘Name?’ Came a sudden voice that carried a very similar accent to the male that she had encountered in that odd cupboard. She couldn’t quite see, until a lady poked her head out behind a silver sort of implement about the width of a brief case or small luggage holder.

There, she gave her full name in the presence of this strange man, middle name and all. A pattering sound began, like one you would hear from a typewriter, but without the obnoxious ‘ping’.

‘Dr House!’ This woman bellowed, only now realising that he’d started to wander away.

‘Can’t find a name on the system.’

‘You’re trying to find my records? I’m not a patient here, I’m only visiting. Besides you won’t find it by typing, it’ll be in paper form, I thought that was the same for everyone?'

‘Sorry dear, Dr House told me you’d found your way off the psychiatric ward, your name isn't even on the database.’ This woman behind the desk looked directly into her eyes, showing vague sympathy.

‘You think I’m mad?!’ She cried at the ’doctor’.

He continued to move away, towards what looked like a metal cladded elevator ‘Would explain the confusion.’ He shouted over the room of, what she could presume were patients waiting to be seen.

She quickly jammed her arm into the door of the metal contraption before it fully closed.

‘I am tired, but I’m certainly not out of my mind. I think you're having a joke with this whole thing. Who set you up to this? It’s really not funny. Can you just tell me what part of the hospital I've ended up in and I’ll be on my way.’

Again an amused smirk graced his face ‘You’re in the clinic.’

‘Well I’d gathered that from the sign above my head, but none of this is recognisable. I’ve been to the clinic before but it didn’t look anything like this.’

‘You sure you got the right hospital?’ He seemed so disinterested in giving any useful information.

‘Well yes, I’m in London-’

‘Well there we go, you’d better find your way back onto the crazy people ward, you’ve forgotten what country you're in. Next it’ll be what year from the look of you.’ He glanced down at her dress, to him it looked outdated.

‘Can you stop that? Tell me seriously now.’ She appeared panicked, worse than she had been previously. She had hit the verge of begging.

With a sigh he gave up on the teasing ‘Princeton-Plainsboro Teaching Hospital. You happy now?’

‘Princeton, New Jersey?’ Her hands were starting to shake, struggling to keep the elevator door open. She’d only ever seen this place in atlases that she used to flick through in her childhood home’s extensive library.

‘Where else?’

‘No no no no no, this isn't possible.’ She stepped inside quickly before the door slammed shut. Putting her face in her hands and taking shuddering breaths.‘You’re definitely not lying right? This isn’t a joke anymore. It's all very funny, but are you sure this isn’t just an American part of the hospital and you’re just pulling my leg?’

The doctor seemed to ignore her and continue to look straight ahead, both hands on his cane.

The door to, what she had now concluded was indeed an elevator, slid open and he stepped out. She hurried after him and as she began to walk beside him he halted, staring directly at the side of her head, fierce enough to burn holes into her skull.

‘You can leave me alone now. I’m not going to help you get a plane ticket or whatever you are pestering me for. Go back to the 1920s or whatever F.Scott Fitzgerald book you think you came out of. If this is some tasteful prostitution then give me a ring later. Goodbye.’ And with that he veered off into a room that was made up of mostly glass panels.

The door flew shut and finally revealed this man's full name and title ‘GREGORY HOUSE M.D. DEPARTMENT OF DIAGNOSTIC MEDICINE’

Though he seemed to be warning her, she still pushed forth, entering the office space ‘Aren’t doctors supposed to help people?’ She had never been so forthright, if she were back at home she would’ve taken that as a forewarning and scampered off like a scared mouse.

Dr House was now sitting hunched over at the desk, eyes glued to another one of those abnormal briefcase things that casted a blue tinged light over his face.

‘Are you not listening to me or are you just plain deaf? I said goodbye.’

‘I’m not taking that as the end of the conversation, Dr House.’ Her confidence was building, though it was most likely the adrenaline surging through her veins. She took steps closer to him, peering down at the jumbled items upon his desk. Odds and ends and many stacks of paper were littered about like a white blanket covering the entirety of the desk.

Her eye caught on one document reading today's date in the margain with a completely unrecognisable year. ‘2006’.

Her eyes bulged and her head seemed to be endlessly screaming. There was a fuzzy static sound that ringed in her ears and her breathing became short. Throughout the whizzing of her mind, she remained completely silent and still.

‘Patient confidentiality, don’t you know.’ He said flipping over the paper she had been gawking at.

‘Two-thousand and six.’ was what she muttered beneath her breath.

‘So you really are that deranged. The whole get up is all part of the act. Are you living out a fantasy or something?’

‘It’s 2006? It’s 1928, your document is wrong. I mean this could be a very elaborate joke or is this a film set?’

‘You’ll have to pay me overtime if you keep asking me all these questions. $300 and you’ll get the full package, what d’you say Marty.’

'Are you still insinuating that I am a whore?’ She now began to grit her teeth. ‘And that is not my name-' She was cut off whilst she was reprimanding him.

'I’m the whore here, I’m the one offering my body, Marty. Now, what would that make me? Doc Brown? nah, maybe a generational relative from the future. Really spooky stuff. What have you come to tell me? About my impending death or bad life choices? Because you're a bit late.' Resting his head on his hands he looked up inquisitively.

'I really don't understand-?' She spoke whilst shaking her head.

''Course you don't ' He pulled his lips thin, eyes widening and shrugging his shoulders. ’You think you're a time traveller and I’m here to tell you to head back down those stairs to where you belong, in the psychiatric ward.’

Her face twisted in disgust as he spoke such cruel, unadulterated words. She could feel the tears in the back of her eyes. No one was going to believe her, she barely even believed it herself.

‘What? Am I supposed to play along? Oops!’ His actions were so animated as he lifted a hand to his mouth.

He picked up what could've been a phone and brought it to his ear chatting with someone on the other end and began typing vigorously.

‘Looks like they'll have to book you in. No records here. Oh, tell you what, let's Google you, see what we can find.’

‘Google?’ She rubbed her forehead with worry.

‘What fun, you're still playing along.’ His words carried an underlying bite. ‘Here we go, nice, so you're daddy's an Earl and you live in a big mansion and have lots of money. I'm not surprised that you picked this woman to claim as your identity. It's full of all those fun parts. You've gone the extra mile too, editing a photo of yourself amongst your fictional family, how sweet.’ He turned the screen around and there was a photo of her and her brothers.

Gasping in shock she spluttered ‘How did you get that?! That’s a private photograph!’

‘How did you do it then, Marty? Did you change the whole of this Wiki page to suit you?’ He tutted.

Standing silent in the emptiness of this office was like torture. She bit her tongue to stop the tears and prevent the endless wrath of words she was holding back. ‘How could you be so cruel, Dr House?’ She shook her head. ‘I thought you were going to help me.’ Her words were wavering as she spoke softly.

He raised his shoulders once again lifting his hands up to display mock confusion ‘What is there to help?’.

And with those last few words she turned, flying out of the room.

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‘World Weary’ - Noël Coward 1928

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~ It was an early morning yesterday, I was up before the dawn ~

#House #Housemd #Housexreader #Gregoryhouse #Gregoryhousexreader #timetravel #1920s #x reader #reader insert #house x reader #house md #house md x reader #gregory house x reader

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astoldbychae · 7 months

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Monet has always been career driven and oddly enough never wanted children. It was the main reason her previous relationship didn't last. However. . .It's crazy how the tables can turn when you feel safe, protected, & loved correctly.

Lil backstory below the cut because I honestly didn't think these two would be here but I love that they are. 🥺

After returning home to regroup (post break-up), she ran into a recently-divorced "old friend of the family" (Carmelo) during a night out. It was during the Fall and we all know how cuffin' season goes...so it wasn't supposed to be anything serious. They both mutually agreed upon how "unserious" they were going to be. Fast forward to a night in at Melo's; he invited her over for dinner & drinks as they watched the game...well, the game watched them because they somehow ended up tipsy and butt ass naked on the living room floor...then on the sofa....then she somehow ended up in the air. 🙃 I firmly believe that's how her ass ended up pregnant...but Imma mind my business.

Anyway...to make a short story long...her pregnancy was unplanned, unexpected, and borderline unwanted (by her) and she thought Melo would feel the same way. Initially, she wasn't going to tell him and just move on with her life (you know, deletus the fetus) but she wanted to be honest with him. I mean, he had always been upfront with her. And to her surprise, he was actually excited by the news. Although the circumstances weren't perfect, he's family oriented and loved the idea of having more children (and honestly his big romantic ass had already caught deeper feelings for her).

Her first trimester was "the trimester from hell," she was absolutely miserable and began to question why she allowed herself to go through with this. Melo hated how stressed/tense she was all the time and was persistent on getting her to move in with him. He wanted to make sure that she was taken care of. Plus, he loves talking to/kissing on/rubbing her belly...

Honestly, it's his excitement that has helped her begin to enjoy this experience. He just bought them a big ass house in San Sequoia with enough rooms for them to grow together. They are set to meet with an interior designer, so they can finally get settled in for real. He has big plans for his family this summer (its summer in game) and although Monet really has no idea what's in store (because he likes surprising her), she's excited for what's next.

Love that for them.

📌 These two are officially apart of my Growing Together, casual rotational gameplay/story that I like to call Family Matters. I initially started it when the pack first came out but had some issues with that update (and just ended up neglecting it). I've put everyone in this new save, so I'm hoping things will work fine. I'm adding more families and relatives back in and it's starting to feel like home. I won't call it a legacy because...I get too attached...but I would like to play out their lives and see how far I can get. I am working on several story things simultaneously (because my brain thrives off organized chaos) but I just wanna enjoy playing the game again with some added mess because my sims are ALWAYS in some shit.

Fall is here, so bring on the cozy chaos. 🍂

#astoldbychae #blacksimblr #blacksimmer #ts4 story #ts4 #ts4 gameplay #ts4machinima #ts4story #oc: carmelo hollingsworth #oc: monet giordano #Story: Family Matters

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possibilistfanfiction · 1 year

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Prompt suggestion I loved the grandmas! So Ava's grandmas squad at the wedding maybe? :D

you've been to many, many weddings in your life: your own, the most important; your siblings' and your children's and your grandchildren's, blessing after blessing. most have been fun, and, especially as you get older, you enjoy everyone happily bringing you copious amounts of champagne and an extra slice of cake, dancing with you on rotation.

you've been to so many weddings but, of them all, this might be the most beautiful.

part of it is probably because, as you had discovered, beatrice has more money than god. she's not flashy about spending it; whenever she comes to the country club to have lunch, she's in soft earth tones, but you have been wealthy long enough to notice the clean tailoring and how her hair, especially after she cuts it short — which ava had informed your group of breathlessly one day — is always neat and shiny, her rolex and ring understated but beautiful all the same. it feels, retrospectively, a little like you've gotten to watch them both grow up, and grow into themselves. also, amusingly, you hadn't quite realized how wealthy she was until you'd gone to their home for lunar new year, two years ago, and then you had fully comprehended, with a fair amount of humor, because ava had never mentioned anything and had always been excited and friendly and down to earth, more than happy to spend time with a group of old ladies.

this is also the most beautiful because it's on the beach, and because all of it is designed to be accessible for anyone with mobility aids, even though it's in the sand. everyone has taken their shoes off, and there are flowers everywhere and a small, wooden altar, ornate and subtle, that beatrice and ava stand in front of. there's stephanotis woven into ava's hair, and her dress is all gossamer and lace, small straps over her shoulders and the back dipping low. you've seen her scars almost every week since you'd met, but you've been alive a long time and you know that there's a measure of love that exists in her life — fought for by her; inevitably created by her, you think, too, with her steadfastness and her undeniable charm — that makes those scars just part of this night. part of this love.

beatrice, in a sharp navy suit and a t-shirt tucked in underneath, her slacks rolled up above her ankles, has been crying since she saw ava, sniffling and laughing intermittently, and ava had started to cry while she was saying her own vows. it's a simple ceremony, short and so heartfelt, and angela offers you an ornate embroidered hanky silently when beatrice quietly promises her life to ava; they've invited everyone they love and still she says it like they're the only two people in the world.

at the reception, eventually ava finds you on the dance floor, even though her eyes flit back to beatrice often.

ava smiles at the young man — named keiko, he'd said, one of beatrice's friends from the dojo — currently dancing with you and he kisses her cheek with a laugh when she asks to cut in.

'sorry,' she says, 'if you wanted to keep dancing with him. i will say that he has a very cute boyfriend anyway.'

you laugh. 'i would rather dance with you; it's kind of beatrice to spare you.'

'eh, i have her forever. i wanted to dance with the second most beautiful woman here.'

you laugh. 'she is very, very handsome.'

ava groans. 'i didn't know she was going to wear that jacket. her brother surprised her with it.'

it's gorgeous, maybe one of the most beautiful pieces you've ever seen; angela had gasped quietly when beatrice and ava had walked in, and it had made you laugh around a crostini. 'i've asked all my children and grandchildren this, at their weddings,' you say, and you don't miss the way ava's eyes water immediately, 'are you happy?'

of course, you already know the answer. you've never seen two people happier with each other, more comfortable in and out of each other's orbits together, like you have the two of them. ava reminds you of aaron, you often think, with a pang you've felt for the past seven years — joyful, the entire world a little in awe of them, the delight of knowing that you're the center of their universe overcoming everything else.

'this is the happiest day of my life. i am — it's beyond words.'

it makes you want to cry, but you already have and ava glances over your shoulder with a soft smile, meant for one person only. 'good,' you tell her. 'you will have all the happiness in this life, with the love you've found.'

'it feels like a miracle.' she looks at the ring on her finger, elegant; perfect for her and her constant motion, inlaid with diamonds.

'it is a miracle,' you say. 'a blessing, a love like yours.'

'ruth, i really can't cry again.' you laugh. 'but — yes. i've loved her before, many times, i think. in one way or the other.'

she says it like there's only truth to it; certainty. without doubt. faith. maybe you will be young again; maybe you will meet aaron in some other form and build another life, blessings greater than the stars. beatrice's hair falls into her eyes and she dances with her niece and nephew. 'i believe you have.'

ava smiles. 'thank you for coming, and for the dance.'

you hug her, hold her to you for a moment, one of your favorite people in the world. a slow song starts and you spin her by the hips. 'go dance with your wife.'

she melts a little, a grin on her face. 'yeah,' she says, 'my wife.'

the party goes late, the joy overflowing. beatrice looks asleep on her feet when you leave but you hug her too, with her beautiful jacket and eyes that are always only ever for ava.

'thank you for coming,' she says, hugging you tight, 'and for being so wonderful to ava, and to me.'

'congratulations, on an undoubtedly beautiful life. thank you for letting me be in it.'

she nods, her smile gentle. you find angela and head to her car; thank god she can still competently drive at night.

'burgers?' you ask, and she laughs.

'didn't we eat so much food?'

you shrug. 'milkshakes, at least?'

'you are a terrible influence,' she says, but she grins and drives toward in n out and she's your best friend. another blessing, in this life, another love.

'i'm glad we've lived long enough to see that wedding.'

'don't call us old.'

'what was your favorite part.'

angela smiles, gently, bathed in the streetlights while you wait at an intersection. 'their vows, of course.'

in this life, and the next and the next, you remember. 'they mean them.'

'yes,' angela says. 'more than anyone i've ever met.'

'our grandchildren.'

angela laughs. 'a good night.'

she caves and orders herself a cheeseburger too, and then drives to the beach. you can't sit on her trunk anymore but you roll the windows down and it counts, this life and the next, all the same.

#wn #avatrice #avatrice fic #prompts #avas grandmas! they have also adopted bea #i love them #butch bea 🥺🫡

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loveforcarmen · 2 months

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𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐂 𝐁𝐋𝐔𝐄 - CH. 7

- carmen berzatto x fem!oc coworker | - slowburn

NOTE: warning, this chapter contains out of character carmen 🤗

AN: hello, apologies for not updating for like 2 weeks?? anyways, enjoy this filler chapter and i apologize in advance for any spelling/grammar mistakes!!

single - the neighbourhood

As Margaret got ready, her stomach was filled with anxiety. She huffed, digging into her dusty blue makeup bag, pulling out a neutral eyeshadow pallet.

She blended a warm tone of eyeshadow over her eyelids, sitting propped on her bathroom counter, feet in the sink. After drawing a clean-cut black wing of eyeliner over it, she glued on some fake lashes. Just enough to enhance her eyes, not to overpower them.

She had never been one to wear much makeup, mostly due to the fact she worked in the back of the kitchen, not the front. It came as a surprise to see her glammed up like this ; she looked like a doll.

After scrunching some of her curl-defining mousse in her hair, she headed to her bedroom, preparing to tackle her closet to find the right outfit for dinner. She rotated through a variety of styles: a pantsuit, a two piece outfit, a SKIMS dress, etc.

She finally settled on a low cut, shimmery light gold dress that hugged around her waist perfectly. Pairing it with a pair of 1 inch clear platform heels, she added a gold heart necklace to complete the look.

As she paced back and forth in her kitchen, waiting for Carmen to knock, she nervously chewed on her lip. She would surely chew through the damn thing by the end of the night.

Knock. Knock.

Margaret perked her head up at the knocks, the hard wooden, hard wooden door reverberating within the door frame. She drew in a breath, composing herself before opening the door, "Hi." she greeted him with a warm smile, subconsciously crossing one leg in front of the other.

He wore an all black Hockerty suit, paired with a sleek pair of Florsheim leather brown shoes. His hair was worn in its usual style, a jumble of mess of curls on his head.

"This isn't a date. It's an apology dinner." he reminded himself. His eyes glided down Margaret, taking in her entire being. As much as he didn't want to admit, she looked fucking good.

"How do I look?" she gave him a playful spin, being careful not to trip over her heels. Her Tory Burch Reva leather clutch swung around with her body, hitting the doorframe with a thud.

He shook his head, "Let's go." he laughed, still in the doorway. His hand rested on each side, practically leaning into her apartment.

"You're no fun." she spat, grabbing her long, black coat off the hook by the door. Although it was spring, the nights still remained cold enough to require another layer.

As they walked through Chicago, the night sky was clear of clouds. Though it was impossible to see the stars due to the city lights, Margaret still craned her neck up at the sky. Her hand reached over, grabbing Carmen's forearm lightly as she walked.

Carmen looked down at her hand, taken aback by the sudden contact. "What's your thing with stars? I've noticed that you've had this infatuation for them since you started." he asked as they walked.

"Well," she looked back down, rubbing the back of her neck, "There was this saying my mother always told me." They rounded the corner to the L, walking up the steps that led to the elevated platform.

When they reached the top, she continued, "She always said 'you can find me in the stars, even when I'm not with you'. The meaning obviously carries more weight now but..." she waved her hands in the air as she spoke, "It sounds like a cringey quote but it truly means a lot to me."

Carmen solemnly nodded, not wanting to continue to press on the subject. The train loudly pulled up to the platform, stopping with a sharp hiss of smoke. The doors opened, traffic immediately started to funnel in and out. Margaret luckily found a seat near the door, nestling herself down.

Carmen stood in front of her, hands loosely holding the pole. Whenever he took the train, he tried to come in contact with everything as little as possible. Margaret sat with her legs tightly crossed, arms folded, attempting to take up as little space as possible. She noticed and older woman limping through the crowded car out of the corner of her eye. Swiftly standing up, she offered her seat to the woman.

"Thank you dear." the woman said, sitting down slowly. She sat with her brittle arms crossed, arthritic hands on her lap.

Margaret nodded her head, standing next to Carmen. "Do you mind if I just hold onto your arm?" she asked quietly. The trained started back up, torque causing everyone who was standing to slightly sway.

Carmen turned to her, gaving her a puzzled look but obeyed her request. She hooked her arm under his, linking tightly around his bicep. "Why?" he asked, almost in a whisper.

"Look to your right, a few seats down." she whispered back. Carmen slowly turned his head to see a man, sitting in the middle of the car floor. He was clearly on some type of drug, bothering the young women who were alone for pictures of various body parts. Hands, feet, calves, etc.

Carmen turned away from him, staring straight ahead, keeping the man in the corner of his eye. Margaret felt his grip on her tighten, just slightly. As the train moved on, their bodies swayed in unison with the movements of which ever direction they were headed.

Getting off at their stop, they walked only just a short distance to the restaurant. The conversation between them was light, not dwelling on the same topic for too long.

They arrived to the restaurant, Margaret greeting the host warmly as Carmen checked them in. The host walked them to a booth that was cozily tucked in the corner.

The establishment was intimidatingly high end to say the least.

The dining room had booths lining the walls while circular wooden tables took up the space unused space in middle. Angular chandeliers hung down the center of the room in a warm lighting. Along the wide back wall sat a rich, mahogany bar. Illuminated shelves sat behind the counter, housing a variety of liquors to choose from

After seating them, the host handed them each a menu, the front cover reading the name "The Albert" in pristine gold lettering. "Your server will be here shortly." the host said kindly, walking back to the entrance of the restaurant.

As Carmen and Margaret flipped through the extravagant menu, each dish more impressive than the next, she chewed on her bottom lip. She nervously looked at the prices, the last thing she wanted to do was allow him to drop a shit-ton of money on a meal he could easily make.

The server approached them, smiling warmly, "What can I get started for you?" she asked. "We can start off with drinks and appetizers, or we can jump right into the menu." She clasp her blue notepad tightly in her hand, pen at the ready.

Carmen looked over at Margaret, allowing her to take the reins. "I think we're gonna need more time with the menu, but we can order drinks now. Can I please get an Old Fashioned?" she asked politely.

"Of course you may," the server said, moving onto to Carmen. "And for you?" she looked up from her notepad, eyeing Carmen down.

"Hennessy please." Carmen said, looking up at the waitress. His voice was sultry with his reply ; Margaret didn't think it was intentional but it still struck a nerve with her.

"Yes sir," she batted her lashes at Carmen, "We'll get that out shortly."

"Ok." he quietly, waiting for her to leave. The server turned on her heel, walking back into the kitchen with their order. Carmen turned back to Margaret, "You ever been here before?" He clasped his hands in front of them on the table, straightening his posture.

She shook her head quickly, "Are you kidding? Hell no." She looked around the establishment, absorbing its large gradniuer. "Look at this place."

The drinks were eventually brung out, the food following shortly behind. The porcelain dishes were placed on the dark wood table, the food plated so creatively it could be considered art. Margaret had order a duck honey glaze with a spring onion and an alpine radish to top it. It was sided with mustard seed dollop spread, the sweet taste was paired perfectly with the acidic nature of the spread.

She took a bite, her expression widening with each chew. "This is the best thing I've ever tasted." she took another small bite, "No offense." she added, smiling up at Carmen.

He laughed, wiping his mouth off with a napkin, "Absolutely none taken." he adjusted in his seat, "I actually created this dish for this place." he said causally, taking another bite his food.

Her jaw figuratively hung slack, "I mean," she regained herself, straighting her posture in her chair, "It's not surprising. The dish is alright I guess." she took another bite, fighting back a playful smile.

"Just alright?" he recited, cocking his head slightly to the side. He too fought back a smile that was starting to creep across his lips.

Her gaze flicked to her plate as she answered, "Yup." she looked back up, taking another bite.

There was beat between them until Carmen spoke, "You ever think about making a dish for a restaurant?" he took a long sip of his drink, setting it down gently on the table.

"Absolutely not." she shook her head, holding her hand in front of her mouth as she chewed, "I don't think I'm creative enough for that. I'm no Sydney or Marcus."

"Eh, you'll get there. I got a feeling." he replied, looking down at his plate as he continued to eat.

She felt something odd grow inside of her at the sudden praise from him. Unable to help the smile that bloomed, she looked down at her plate in a weak attempt to conceal her joy. "Thank you."

The two spent the rest of the evening talking about mostly food. Slowly becoming buzzed from the liquor, Margaret felt her confidence growing. They began to critic the dishes that were sent out and took notes on how the place was ran. Intently listening to how orders were called out in the kitchen, how the servers operated, everything. They were getting along, with no issues. A stark contrast to their (usual) rocky relationship.

"Woah, I think that's enough for you." Carmen grabbed Margaret's glass before she could take another sip. She had grown quite tipsy, which was unfortunate for her since they had walked to the restaurant.

"But-" she started before being cut off by the server presenting the bill.

"How is the bill being paid?" she asked softly, looking over at Carmen as he signaled to himself.

"Carmen," Margaret said as she dug into her bag, pulling out her wallet.

"Maggie, no." Carmen said, not looking up from his wallet as he pulled the card out. He gave the server a small smile, then turned back to Margaret after she left.

"At least let me cover the tip." she said, her lips forming into a pert pout. Carmen stared at her, longer than anticipated then blinked rapidly before answering, as if he was trying to clear his head.

"I planned this. I'll pay." he leaned back in into the leather cushion of the booth, "I know the owner so I get a discount anyways. I made a fucking dish for their menu, a discount is the least they could do." Carmen said, sounding awfully pretentious. "I didn't mean it like that." he added, leaning back up.

The server returned with Carmen's card, then slipped him a note along with it. Carmen opened it under the table, unsure if Margaret saw it or not. It was her number, scrawled in messy Sharpie along with her name. Carmen looked back up to find her in the kitchen, only to see that she was already staring at him. She gave him a little wave, causing him to look away with rosy cheeks.

He wasn't used to being flirted with, so this came as a surprise to him. Growing up, he pretty much kept to himself and never got involved with the dating scene like most of his classmates.

Shortly after, Margaret and Carmen left the restaurant, beginning their trek to the L. The city was alive, which wasn't uncommon on a Friday night. Lights glowed in all directions, whether it be from cars or buildings.

"Margaret!" a male voice said from behind them. The pair stopped, lazily turning around to see who the voice belonged to.

"Matteo?" Margaret said in surprise, squinting her eyes as if he was far away. She walked over to give him a quick peck on the cheek, a custom in her family.

"How you doin, darling?" he asked, letting his hands fall to her waist, drinking in the sight of her. She looked absolutely delectable in her little gold dress, her gold necklace falling just before her cleavage.

"I'm great. Oh my gosh," she said sloppily, walking back over to put her hand on Carmen's shoulder, "This is my boss slash acquaintance, Carmen." she smiled at Carmen then looked at Matteo. "We just had dinner at.." she trailed off, looking over at Carmen for the answer.

"The Albert." Carmen finished for her, his voice cutting and mean. He sat with his gaze fixed on Matteo, staring hard at him.

"Yeah the Albert!" Margaret exclaimed, taking a step back to Matteo, "Carmen, this is Matteo by the way." she squeezed Matteo's shoulder, which coaxed a smile out of him. He glanced down at Margaret, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

Carmen could see it plainly that he had it bad for the girl. The slightest touch from her was enough to plaster a stupid grin on his face. He watched as Matteo's hand snaked down to Margaret's waist, resting just above her ass.

"Are you guys doing anything?" he asked, barely giving Carmen a glance. As if he wasn't standing right fucking there.

"Um, I think we're both just going home." she smiled at him, unintentionally batting her lashes. She was fucking gone, logical thinking completely exiting her body in that moment.

"You could come back to my place, y'know." he said, finally giving Carmen a glance, "I can get her home, we live in the same building." he half suggested, half stated.

Carmen took a step towards Margaret, slowly pulling her away from Matteo, "Nah it's cool." he said, holding her firmly around the waist. "Let's go." he said softly to Margaret, walking away from Matteo.

"Don't be a stranger baby!" Matteo called, walking backwards from the 2, hands in his coat pockets. With his backed turned towards him, Carmen rolled his eyes at his pathetic attempt to hit on Margaret.

To say the least, it was a struggle trying to control drunk Margaret. Carmen was constantly apologizing for her actions to the poor people on the train and sidewalk who encountered her. It was quite annoying actually to him, as it continued after getting off the train. "Hey." Carmen backed her up, leaning her against a building. "Are you ok?" he asked sternly, annunciating each word.

Her voice was quiet, and her face—high cheekbones, sharp nose—was placid. "I'm perfect." she smiled up at him, her head spinning. She leaned to one side, relying on Carmen's strength to keep her upright.

He grabbed her arm, walking her over to a nearby bench as if she was child. His fingers pressed into the soft skin of her arms, growing tighter the more she resisted. "Sit." he demanded, pushing her down onto the bench.

Stubbornly, she sat down on the bench, resting her hands on her lap. Crouching down, Carmen began to slip off her heels, setting them in her lap.

"What are you doing?" she rhetorically asked. She looked down, eyes following Carmen as he pushed himself back up.

He turned around, hands slightly extended. "Get on." he said, his face turned away from her.

Confused but still obeying his request, she grabbed her heels in one hand then climbed onto Carmen's back. The warmth radiated from his body, keeping her warm from the nipping night air.

Her arms hung limp in front of his chest, swaying with his body as he walked. As Carmen strolled through Chicago, Margaret would point out memories from her adolescence, saying something along the lines of "That's where my dad crashed his car" or "That was my first job".

As they approached her apartment building, Margaret leaned her head against Carmen's back, arms still hanging lazily over his shoulders. "Hey." he poked her in her side, "Don't fall asleep just yet."

She grumbled, lifting her head up. "Home already?" she looked down at Carmen, her undereyes beginning to puff with sleep.

"What floor and apartment number?" he asked, turning his head as far as he could towards her. He could barely see her from the corner of his eye, only able to make out her blonde hair.

"216, floor 2." she said, reaching into her purse to hand Carmen the key. As he made his way up to her apartment, her weight became heavier and heavier, a sign that she was dozing off again.

He slipped the key into the lock, turning the rusted handle. It didn't budge so he tried again, ending up with the same results as before. "You got to wiggle it first." Margaret said softly, her lips brushing against his ear as she spoke. He swallowed a wad of spit, uncomfortable with their closeness.

But was it truly uncomfortableness he was feeling?

He wiggled the handle, then turned it again, opening the door this time. He nudged it open with his foot, walking inside of the small living space. Waking up Margaret with another poke, he slipped her off his back, making sure to hold her upright until she regained her footing.

"Thanks Carmen." she said, keeping herself up. She held onto Carmen's forearm for some support. She was close enough for Carmen to smell the honey and citrus in her hair, the scent bringing him a sense of serenity.

"Let's get you to bed." he said, ignoring her thanks. He needed to cut himself off from her and he needed to do it now.

Margaret turned on her heel, walking down the short hallway to her bedroom. Carmen trailed behind her, hands hovering at her sides in case she toppled over. "Yay round 2 of taking care of drunk Maggie" he thought to himself. This was a bad look for her, having to be taken care of by her boss not once but twice. Carmen repeated his routine of taking care of drunk Margaret, an exact repeat of when she spent the night at his house.

He put her to bed, carefully pulling the sheets up to her shoulders. He crouched down at the side of the bed, eye level with her. "I have a bucket right on the side of the bed in case you puke." he said quietly,his voice barely registering as a whisper.

Margaret's gaze darted to his lips then back to match his eyes, "You're a great boss Carmy." she softly smiled.

Pushing himself up off the ground, he looked down at her, "That's an overstatement." he dryly laughed.

Carmen walked over to flick off her small lamp when her voice spoke again, "Are you leaving?" she asked timidly.

Carmen felt his cheeks grow hot, the knot in his stomach swelling. He felt as if he was going to be sick, his gut twisting in every direction.

"I'll be on the couch."

With that, he closed the door behind him, leaving Margaret in her own thoughts. He shakily let out a breath he hadn't realized he had been holding. Quickly walking to the sink, he turned it on, splashing the lukewarm water onto his face. He sighed into his hands, slowly dragging them down his face, allowing them to fall to his sides.

He grabbed the hem of his dress shirt, bringing it to up to dry his face off. The tips of his curls dripped water onto his forehead, agitating him. His chest began to close up as he drew in shaky breaths, breathing as if someone was clutching his throat.

"No, no, no." he whispered to himself, ripping open the collar of his shirt due to his increasing body temperature. The action caused a few buttons to fly off, landing on the kitchen floor. "Shit." he said aloud, collecting them quickly.

He gathered his suit jacket, tucking it under his arm as he left her apartment. He hurried down the flights of stairs, harshly pushing the doors open. He stepped into the cold night air, breathing heavily. Stopping at the entrance of the apartment, he rested his hands on his head, slowly walking down the street.

He didn't have time to have feelings for someone. No matter how he felt, it just couldn't happen. He was better off having Margaret hate him than have her feel any other emotion towards him.

Carmen pushed it out of his mind as he shoved his hands in his pockets, hurrying down the street to his apartment.

END

AN: omg rereading this, i realized how nasty this chapter is wtf

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discordiansamba · 4 months

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anyways I don't know if it's due to falling asleep to the backdrop of people setting off way too many fireworks or not, but I had a weird dream last night and now I am here to tell you guys all about it because I've been idly rotating it all day. you've heard of body swap not get ready for... personality swap, I guess? But not completely?

anyways it seemed to take place at the tail end of season one, where instead of getting shot out into random locations by the corrupted wormhole, all the lions stayed on the Castle, but something about the combination of the corrupted wormhole and the paladin bond resulted in something... weird happening. Some kind of quintessence rearrangement that resulted in Lance, Hunk, Pidge, and Keith all swapping aspects of their personalities around that Shiro was apparently spared from because of some kind of defense mechanism that Pidge installed in the control chip for his arm that's in his brain that protected him but the backlash forced him to require some time in the cyropod.

(I guess my brain said. you know what would be funny. Shiro just waking up to this nonsense. and honestly? valid.)

(also allura and coran are fine and somehow escaped the wormhole don't worry about it. apparently the mice did also have their personalities swapped around but like. they're mice. they don't care.)

Pidge was probably the least effected bc she got traits from Hunk, who she already has a decent amount in common with, except now she's prone to nervous tirades, is now a morning person, and is calmed by the act of cooking. except she can't cook. Hunk at least kept very clear notes on all of his cooking experiments so she has something to work with. She suddenly finds herself more drawn to tinkering with things as opposed to coding, but she can still do the latter super easily. Also she has a solid sleep schedule now? She also stops wearing her brother's glasses bc she winds up fixated on the idea that she'll break them so she just keeps them safe in her room instead. Which she has now cleaned. She still kind of feels like she dodged a bullet. Sorry guys.

Lance is... having an experience, because he picked up traits from Pidge. He likes studying now? Except apparently he still has ADHD, but also Coran gave him this clicker thing that seems to be working wonders. He's suddenly a lot less interested in flirting and his detailed skin care routine kind of doesn't seem so important anymore. He has to actively set alarms on his phone otherwise he'll pull all nighters. He's starting to learn how to code? Which is weird but it's oddly calming. He's also pretty sure he picked up Pidge's sense of humor, because Pidge definitely picked up Hunk's sense of humor.

Hunk, to his great misfortune, has picked up traits from Keith. Which also includes his temper and his general introversion, the former of which he is working very hard on managing. He's also spending way more time on the training deck than ever before, but it suddenly doesn't feel like exercise so much as it feels... relaxing? Also he is like. always tense. What the hell, Keith, how did you live like this. How is HE going to live like this. Although it is kind of nice to not feel the urge to puke from nerves, which he... doesn't really seem to have anymore? That's kind of nice.

Keith is probably the oddest case of the bunch. He picked up personality traits from Lance, which he can't even get angry about because he doesn't have a temper anymore? apparently? He's suddenly a lot more extroverted, and also he feels the weird compulsion to... flirt? He's also become way more interested in self care and is suddenly not a morning person anymore. But for all that in some ways he has the most traits leftover from his core personality, because those traits turned out not to be parts of his personality so much as they were due to him being Galra- so he still likes training and fighting as much as he did before. Which is great, because if he let Lance's personality take him by the nose, he'd definitely just start to coast on his talent.

But they also each still have core aspects of themselves that apparently their lions preserved so it's not a full personality swap. Pidge will still wax poetic about the tech around them. Lance might not be huge into self care anymore, but he's still interested in trying to keep himself looking good. Hunk is still very kind, which makes having Keith's temper hard on him. Keith still is a nature boy and a jock, and somehow still doesn't understand how the cheer goes.

POV: You're Shiro. You wake up to this mess. It's been like this for a week apparently, and Coran and Allura don't know how to fix it.

...can you just go back to the cryopod maybe?

#apparently lance bought himself a pair of fake glasses that looked like Veronica's #he needed it to sell his new brainy personality. which is a very Lance thing to think #apparently my subconscious decided keith was better at flirting than lance. which is funny so I'm saying it's right #also apparently part of taking better care of himself involved no longer shaving down his nails so they just ended up sharp and pointy #keith reached his maximum hotness potential through self care incident. 340457 dead 4858582 injured #lance voice: what do you MEAN I kept my *insecurity*. that's the one personality trait I didn't want!#honestly. could be a vehicle for both incredible shenanigans AND character study #what makes a person who they are etc #identity crisis au

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ghostedcas · 11 months

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i haven't posted anything in a bit and i'm so sorry, i don't want to reveal too much detail at the moment but i've just been having a wacky time mentally to put things simply.

in return, have some (extremely) random personal COD headcannons :))

warnings: mentions of mental health disorders (including eating disorders), mentions of religious trauma, mentions of child abuse/childhood trauma, idk just some sad stuff but also way more happy stuff than sad stuff i swear

a/n: reminder that i've never played the game, a lot of the information i have on the characters is from fan created content and a little bit of research and some things could be slightly inaccurate canon wise. also these are once again personal headcanons, you don't have to agree with them, just pls don't be mean :)

anyway, i apologize that there's not that many :(( this is just a short lil list so there's def gonna be some characters missing and such. but i will have more headcanon posts out another time <3

cod headcanons (very random edition)

könig is a farm boy <3

impovershed farmer's child to soldier pipeline is real

also idk why but i feel like his real name is like eduard german spelling of edward or something

2 sisters (1 older, 1 younger but born the same year as him) and a little brother

soap is an ipad kid (i will be taking no criticisms)

ghost probably has borderline personality disorder but because it doesn't present in the way it stereotypically does for borderline men so he is undiagnosed

was audhd undiagnosed until he was 25

bro was baffled

the development of his bpd was both through the abuse and neglect he faced growing up and the trauma that one can experience from being autistic growing up but left undiagnosed

soap has severe adhd

PRICE LISTENS TO DISCO AND CLASSIC ROCK 🗣️ guilty pleasure is 50's love songs and smooth jazz

gaz tried to establish team game nights

regretted his decision after one game night

both ghost and könig are gymbros but in the disordered way

orthorexic könig

an-bp ghost

every one of those mfs has ptsd and/or cptsd

valeria is a radfem (trans inclusive)

gaz secretly likes a few kpop songs from various different groups (he really likes g-idle for some reason)

catholic trauma soap📢

was probably forced to undergo an "exorcism" at one point

also had a scene phase

emo könig :(( <3

ghost wouldn't necessarily label himself goth but he does enjoy quiet a lot of goth music and some of the fashion intrigues him

gaz used to be a roadman😭 absolutely hates admitting it though bc he's embarrassed about it

idk i feel like horangi would listen to ayesha erotica unironically

ghost listens to lana

i could also see könig having bpd as well (this is mostly feeding off of the obsessive/possessive/jealous headcanon the fandom seems to share, though i do have some other reasons i could go into another time)

can i get an amen for he/they könig??

soap jokingly said he wanted to use she/her pronouns too and now ghost wont stop actually using them seriously and soap doesn't want to correct him

ghost is fully aware it was a joke and he just wants to see how long it'll take soap to correct him

141 all have matching tattoos (including kate)

ghost also listens to hollywood undead

valeria's guilty pleasure music is taylor swift's earlier albums

ghost smoked weed in high school

dream blunt rotation is the 141, könig, horangi and valeria

könig's social anxiety really manifests itself as arrogance and sometimes he hates that

könig and soap are actual pyromaniacs

one of könig's favourite movies is howl's moving castle

that's all i can think of for now,, hope y'all enjoyed🫶

if you did pls gimme a like and send an ask if you want to request anything <3

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sixhours · 2 months

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Chapter 17 - The Ghosts of Babylon

Series Chapter Index | Read on AO3 | Complete

Rating: Explicit, 18+, here be smut and violence Series tags: Joel Miller x You, Joel Miller x Reader, Joel & Ellie, mostly follows canon, LGBTQ+ characters, y/n is bi/pan, y/n is ~45, violence, pregnancy, abortion, medical trauma, emotional trauma, panic attacks, sex work, suicide, smut, slow burn, angst with a happy ending, hurt/comfort, romance, no use of y/n, reader has longish hair, Joel can lift you, smallish age gap (~11 years), I've probably forgotten some so please let me know <3

~*~

When you wake, Joel is already gone, back to another patrol shift. He leaves a note on the counter in his typically terse fashion:

Coffee’s fresh. Help yourself.

You don’t talk about that night again, but the effects linger. Patrol groups are larger and rotated more frequently since the bite that killed Eliot. The infected seem to be everywhere, and the council doubles the number of guards on the wall.

More than once during that summer, you wake in Joel’s bed, alone. Sometimes you find him standing at Ellie’s door, watching over her while she sleeps, worrying at his bottom lip with his teeth until it’s raw. It’s the only time they’re truly at ease, when the silence between them isn’t uncomfortable. You’ll take his hand and lead him back to bed and he’ll bury his face in the back of your neck, unspoken sorrow radiating from him in waves.

But life in Jackson continues despite the undercurrent of unease. The weather turns brutally hot, and you treat heatstroke, sunburns, and so many cases of swimmer’s ear in the kids, who spend their free time frolicking in the creek that runs through the back half of the settlement.

Joel sets up a ring of stones in the backyard, and you build a fire and show Ellie how to roast homemade marshmallows in the embers. She’s impatient, and most of the time the sticky candy is set alight until it’s charred black and papery. She eats it anyway. Joel strums his guitar and hums under his breath, frowning when he misses a chord, brow furrowed in concentration as Ellie needles him about his taste in music.

There are times when it’s too sweet and simple, this life, and perhaps that’s why you don’t trust it. There is always the sense that you’re waiting for something to happen, for the terrible thing that will take it all away.

~*~

In mid-July, the council hosts an outdoor party they call the Firefly Dance, which you think is a terrible name under the circumstances, but no one else seems to think so. As much as you hate the idea of a night of watching sweaty people get increasingly drunk–all you see are future injuries to treat, more babies to deliver–you know you should make an appearance to seem neighborly. Joel seems to think so, too, because he tells you you shouldn’t miss it. It’s unlike him, to be excited about a silly dance with a silly name, so you decide to make the effort.

You’re dressed in a cornflower blue shift dress that, in the Before, would have been dubbed old-fashioned. But it’s the only slightly dressy thing you own that doesn’t have sleeves, and you’re not exactly surrounded by a dearth of choices. It falls just to your knees, and you can’t remember a time since the outbreak when you clothed yourself for fun rather than utility. It feels almost scandalous to walk around in public with bare legs and shoulders.

The way Joel’s eyes light up when he sees you confirms you’ve made a good choice, old-fashioned or not. He meets you at the edge of the party, gives you an appraising glance, and leans in to place a single chaste kiss on your cheek, murmuring in your ear.

“Clean up nice.”

He does, too, you think. His curls are temporarily tamed and slicked back, the usual flannel replaced by a short-sleeved plaid button-up with jeans. He looks almost presentable.

Before you can tell him this, he’s taking your arm and steering you…away.

“The party’s back there, Miller,” you say, looking over your shoulder at the strings of lights and the people mulling about.

“Got a better idea.”

You walk through an alley, down a narrow street, then into the open field near the northwest corner of the wall, until the lights and music are a distant pulse in the background.

His bedroll is already laid out, flattening a small patch of the tall sweetgrass. He pulls you down against him, cups your face in his wide palms, and kisses you long and deep.

“Joel Miller,” you murmur against his willing, open mouth. “I didn’t take you for a romantic.”

He hums against your lips, hands already sliding under your dress. Maybe there’s something to bare legs after all. “Stars didn’t do it for ya?”

“Mmm,” you breathe. “Too cold.”

He rolls you onto your back, the grass warm and soft underneath you, almost soft as a bed. His nose grazes the spot behind your ear that makes you shiver, one hand already slipping into your panties, curling around your sensitive center. Your hands reach down, eager to touch him, to return the favor, but he gently pushes you away.

“Uh uh,” his voice tickles at your collarbone, stubble scraping your throat. “Just for you tonight.”

An undignified sound escapes you in half moan, half-whisper. “Fuck.”

“That’s the idea,” he growls, and his fingers begin their achingly slow ministrations at your cunt. Your back arches into his touch, but he teases, stroking until you’re feverish with the sensations pulling deliciously low and tight in your abdomen.

At some point, he’s pulled one of your breasts free of the confines of your bra, and his mouth settles over the nipple, laving and suckling until your fingernails leave little half-moons on the back of his neck.

You grind against his fingers, making soft little keening noises, desperate to be filled. Your eyes flit to the wall; a distant figure moves there. Joel follows your gaze. “They ain’t lookin’ in here,” he says.

“And so what…if they are?” you gasp.

There’s a growl from somewhere deep in Joel’s chest and he groans, two fingers finally, finally pushing inside you and curling hard. “You’d like that, huh?”

But you don’t have the words to answer. His big fingers are circling that spot deep within you and his palm grinds on your clit, and then you’re clenching, clenching, almost, so close .

And then you are brutally emptied, and he’s crawling down your body with ravenous hunger, burning a slow trail of lingering kisses to the apex of your thighs. His tongue caresses your clit, and your moan is low and primal, one hand buried in his hair and the other twisted in the long grass, clawing at the earth until you are blissfully full again.

You open your eyes to the stars, you close your eyes and they follow you into the dark.

~*~

You’re draped over his chest as his hand rubs a soothing path up and down your spine. There’s a flicker of light in your peripheral vision, then another, and another–fireflies darting and blinking lazily in the grass.

“Welcome back,” he murmurs into your hair.

“Mmmm.”

He gently extracts you from his arm and sits up, eliciting a little whine, which he pointedly ignores. You roll to your front, burying your nose in the scent of his blanket, the lingering heat of his body.

“C’mon, lazy bones. Up.” He’s tugging at your hand.

“No.”

The music drifts over the field, something soft; Fleetwood Mac.

“It’s a dance.”

“I don’t dance.”

“You do. Ellie said so.”

“She lied.”

He grunts. “I think you’re the one who’s lyin’. Up.”

You huff in protest, but take his hand, knees cracking lightly as you get to your feet.

He holds one hand out, the other around your waist, a proper southern gentleman…and then not. The hand on your back slides down to cup your bare ass through your dress, and you realize at some point he’d removed your panties.

He sways, and you find the rhythm, barely, still drowsy and sated. He hums along with the song into your hair.

When he tries to spin you, your feet catch on the bedroll and you feel yourself falling backward with a little shriek. He pulls you back into him, both strong arms wrapping around your waist.

“Told you,” you mutter into his chest, and his chuckle reverberates in the space between your ribs, straight to your stupid heart.

You look up to meet his eyes, so soft, and something inside you twists, sharp and steady. He’s gazing at you, fucking gazing at you, and your breath catches in your throat.

Untouchable.

His lips start to form the words and a panicky little bird inside you thrashes against your ribs, beating against the confines of your chest.

“I…I–”

The shot rings out, and you drop to the ground on instinct, Joel’s body landing heavy over yours. You wait for more gunfire, hands pressed into the dirt, breathing hard. It’s quiet. There’s a distant shout from the wall.

“Got ‘im!”

Just a straggler, then.

“Hate it when they get close like that,” he murmurs.

You swallow hard, willing your heart to settle. “We should–”

“Yeah,” he agrees, grunting softly as he gets to his feet. He’s distracted now, and you know he’s thinking about Ellie, intent on making sure she’s safe. “Let’s get back.”

~*~

The gunshots from the wall become more frequent as the weeks pass, and the whole community seems drawn into the same stoic, waiting lassitude. You want to blame the heat, but underneath it all is a deep-seated fear that gnaws and twists and burrows like the fungus you’re trying to keep at bay. On the rare occasion he’s with you, Joel is taciturn, even quieter than usual, and Ellie is equally distant from you both.

It’s late August, and you’re eating dinner in the kitchen with Joel and Ellie when she drops the bomb. All the windows in the house are open but there’s no breeze, the air hangs damp and stifling. There’s no conversation, and you’re barely eating, just pushing the food around on your plates in tired silence.

“I’m on patrol tomorrow after school.”

The words are casual enough–like she’s asked one of you to pass the salt–but the fallout is instantaneous.

Joel’s fork clatters to his plate. “Like hell you are.”

She glares at him, but there’s none of her usual tenacity in it, only exhaustion. Her burn has finally healed, but the rift between them is still raw. “I’m sixteen. Tommy says I’m ready.”

“Tommy’s not your fath–your guardian,” he says tightly. “I am.”

“Can you not be a prick about this? For once?”

“If you wanna help, you can go on the wall,” he says. “Safer up there.”

She rolls her eyes. “You’ve seen my aim. I’m not trained in sharpshooting. And anyway, they need patrollers. The wall is full.”

Joel glares at you as if to demand backup, but you don’t meet his eyes. Every kid in Jackson is given a role at sixteen. That Ellie hasn’t had one until now is probably the result of some influence on Joel’s part to keep her within the walls. But she’s right; Jackson needs as many capable hands as they can get, and Ellie is more than qualified.

Joel’s jaw tightens as he realizes you aren’t going to intervene.

“Fine,” he snaps, slamming his hand down on the table, chair screeching against the wood floor as he stands. “Try not to get yourself killed.”

He leaves the house before you can call him back, and you set down your fork, no longer able to pretend you’re interested in eating.

Ellie stabs at her plate with renewed force, sullen. “He treats me like a stupid kid.”

You pinch the bridge of your nose. “Ellie–”

“He’s such a fucking hypocrite. He says he’s protecting me but he’s just protecting himself,” she spits.

“Hey, that’s en–”

“He’s a fucking coward.”

Her eyes are filled with tears that don’t spill over. She glares at you, daring you to tell her she’s wrong, but you can’t.

You’re just as much a coward as him.

“I’m going to Dina’s,” she says, more clattering of dishware, the scraping of her chair against the floor, and then you’re alone at the table in a house that doesn’t belong to you.

~*~

You find him at the bar, hunched over a glass of bourbon that he’s barely touched.

“Thanks for leaving me the dishes,” you say.

He snorts. “Thanks for backing me up.”

“You can sulk all you want, Miller, but she’s right, and you know it,” you sigh, easing yourself onto the seat next to him. You hook one of your legs on the rung under his stool until your knee is brushing his thigh.

The bar is just as miserably hot as everywhere else, but there’s a decrepit floor fan in the corner that stirs the warm air around you. If you close your eyes, you can pretend there’s a faint breeze.

“I see you’re not drinking again,” you nod at his glass, and he grunts.

“Not yet.”

You reach over and take the glass out from under him, lift it to your lips, and take a mouthful of the warm, woody liquid. It lights a slow-burning fire down the seam of your throat. The bartender cocks his head at you, silently asks if you want your own, and you wave him away.

Joel scowls at you but doesn’t attempt to take the drink back.

“She shouldn’t have to…after everything…I kept her safe,” he mutters. “She shouldn’t have to go through it again.”

“You’re out there almost every day,” you say. “At least if she’s bit–”

He shoots you a warning look.

“She’ll be okay,” you say, lowering your voice. “She’ll probably be paired with Tommy. He won’t let anything happen to her.”

“Bet your ass she will,” he grumbles. “I make the damn schedules.”

“Then you knew this would happen, you jerk,” you kick him lightly in the shin. “And you’re going to let her go out on her first patrol with, ‘Try not to get yourself killed,’ as your parting words of wisdom?”

His shoulders slump.

“She went to Dina’s,” you say. “Go find her. Tell her you love her…or whatever passes for love in your fucked-up, co-dependent worldview, Miller.”

“That’s rich comin’ from you,” he growls, but he’s already turning, sliding off the stool.

“Isn’t it, though?” you say softly, watching him go before you finish the rest of his drink.

~*~

He crawls into your bed that night, rousing you from a light sleep as he curls his body around you and hums into your ear.

“Mmm. Did you find her?”

“Nope.”

You blink sleepily, looking over your shoulder. “Why not?”

He growls into your nape, nips at your hairline. “I switched the schedules. She’s partnered with me.”

“...and Ellie is okay with that?”

“Dunno.”

You roll your eyes. “Are you serious?”

“As a heart attack,” he mumbles, latching onto the soft skin at the base of your neck and shoulder. You suck in a breath, trying to focus on the conversation rather than the kiss of his tongue and the bite of his teeth.

“You can’t keep her forever, y’know,” you mutter, stifling a whimper as his hand comes around to grip your naked breast, fingers pressing into your flesh, kneading and pulling and rough in the way you like.

“Can try.”

“God you’re…so stubborn…” Now his hand is sliding down your stomach, rubbing back and forth at the sensitive skin just underneath your sleep shorts, teasing.

“Mmhmm.”

“Christ, Miller, she’s–”

“Shuddup,” he murmurs, pressing a hot kiss to the side of your neck. Then he’s pushing you onto your stomach and tugging down your shorts, hands gripping your ass, spreading your cheeks and making a lewd growl of appreciation at what he finds. One arm comes under your hips, lifting you, and you promptly forget what you were trying to say when he enters you. The room is soon filled with the sound of your combined moans and whimpers and the frenzied smack of his hips against yours.

“Up,” he grunts, one hand cupping your breast as he pulls your back flush against his chest. His hands are in your hair, stroking your stomach, gripping your hips, and he groans in frustration, as if he can’t touch all of you at once. He makes up for it by thrusting harder, forcing you forward to brace yourself on the wall behind your bed until you’re keening at the perfect angle.

The liquid molten pleasure in your belly pools and spreads through your limbs, and you come around him with a harsh cry, thighs trembling, nails scraping down the wall as you grip his cock in a tight throb. Three hard, grinding thrusts and he follows you, fingers melded to your hips. He collapses on top of you, pressing you into the mattress and wrapping you in his arms with a satisfied grunt.

“How’s that for a fucked-up, codependent worldview,” he murmurs, nipping lazily at your earlobe, pulling it into his mouth until you’re squirming underneath him.

“Fuck you, Miller,” you mutter. It’s too fucking hot, you’re stuck together with sweat and come, but you pull his arm tighter around you regardless.

“Just did.”

You chuckle despite yourself. After a few minutes, you push him off, ignoring his protests as you kick away the sheets and blankets and lay like a starfish on the bed. He settles for keeping one hand on your stomach, rubbing sleepy circles around your bellybutton.

“Think she hates me,” he mumbles.

“She’s sixteen,” you sigh. “She’s supposed to hate you a little.”

He snorts, sulking into his pillow.

You thread your fingers through the curls that have overtaken his forehead, damp with sweat and plastered to the skin. You can just make out the furrow between his brows, feel the ridges of worry lines under your thumb.

“You’re both too fucking stubborn,” you say softly. “But if she actually hated you, she wouldn’t spend so much time trying to piss you off.”

He huffs softly, and you allow yourself to be pulled against him, allow your legs to twine with his, allow yourself to fall asleep in his stubborn, sweaty embrace.

#fanfic #fic recs #the last of us hbo #joel miller #ellie williams #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #the last of us #joel and ellie

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good-beanswrites · 8 months

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Could I request "cooking is an art form" with mahiru and presumbly orekoto? I read your Night drabble of those 2 and now the idea of a potential friendship has been stuck in my mind for days, that was probably the sweetest interpretation of him I've seen! Mahiru can't cook in the current state she's in though so I guess orekoto could act as her hands...?

Ah thank you so much!! I was so worried about doing Orekoto justice, that's so exciting you enjoyed 😭 We still don't have a ton of characterization for him, so bear with me, but I absolutely loved writing this. Thank you so much for the request -- with food playing such an important role in Mahiru's story/symbolism, and the pair's unique relationship, this made me so crazy to think about !!!

The knife twirled through Mikoto’s hands. He brought it down with a grunt. Emotion pulsed through his veins. He went back for another swipe, much harder than necessary. He wiped spatter from his face.

“You’re making a mess.” Mahiru observed from behind.

He glanced back to find her scowling at the tomato he was taking out his frustration on. “Who gives a shit? We’re not on cleanup duty.”

He wasn’t supposed to be on cooking duty, either. It was Mahiru’s night according to their usual rotation, but she was in no shape to do any physical activity. Mikoto must have volunteered, and also gotten into some fight about it, because now there he stood: angry at an unknown source, full of adrenaline, and worst of all, in charge of tonight’s curry.

“I suppose…” Mahiru said. “I think that’s Muu tonight, I’ll apologize to her later.”

It was unsettling, how she remained positively cheery as she walked him through each step of the recipe, despite her current condition and his bad attitude. Not that he’d ever turn his anger on her. Mikoto approved of her, and that was enough for him. She’d been going through so much at the hands of their common enemy, he wouldn’t say a single thing against her. Even as she tested his temper with her cooking instructions.

“No, no!” With her good hand, she tugged on the side of his uniform. “You have to turn the carrot as you cut it. Like -- yes, like that!”

Mikoto rolled his eyes as he did what he was told. “It’s all going to get cooked together anyways, it’s not a big deal.”

“It is! You have to take your time with things like this.” She placed her hand over her heart. “It’s about the process, not just the final product. Cooking is an art form!”

“It’s about the final product to me. I’m fucking starving.”

She was briefly distracted with the next set of instructions, telling him how to combine everything over how much heat. When she returned to the topic, her lighthearted voice was laced with a bit of desperation. “I mean it, there’s something magical about pouring your heart into something for someone else. Putting in your time. A little finesse here and there.”

“I know what it’s like to do something for someone else -- and there is absolutely no finesse involved. Or potatoes.” He gestured to the cut pieces before dumping everything into the pot over the stove.

“One of the most universal love languages is food, you know? People make meals and treats for their loved ones in every culture, in every time.”

“They do a lot of other things, too.”

“You went to art school, you understand. This is an expression of yourself!”

“It’s a waste of time.”

“It’s the surest way to help someone!”

“That’s a load of bullshit.”

There was a pause. Then a nervous laugh. Then, “yeah.” As she dropped into more uncharacteristic silence, he stole a glance at her.

Tears poured from her eyes.

“Mahiru?” Fuck, he didn’t mean to make her cry.

“It is.” she hiccuped. “I thought… I thought it could save him. I made this big meal… I thought… But I was so stupid…”

She buried her face in her hands, offering weak apologies for the sudden outburst. He threw the lid over the pot before stepping back to her.

“Hey, hey. Come on. Don’t cry.” It was a command rather than a comfort.

She didn’t listen. She just continued sobbing and blubbering on. “It was all stupid, worthless… I should have known…”

He crouched by the wheelchair. There didn’t even seem to be anything wrong, they’d just been talking about food. Why was she such a mess? He gave an impatient sigh. No reaction. What was Mikoto’s nickname for her again? “Listen, Mappi --”

She snapped her head up to look at him.

Her teary eyes flicked all over his face, making him scowl. “What?”

“Oh.” Her shoulders relaxed, though her breath still hitched. “Sorry. You said… and well… I thought you’d gone away. I want you to stay.” She took his hand. “You.”

His eyes narrowed. “Why?”

“Because you understand me.”

He did not. Like, at all. But he kept his mouth shut.

Thankfully, she was too talkative not to explain herself. “You love someone very much. That love turned out to be dangerous -- deadly. And you weren’t forgiven for it.” She pressed her lips together, suppressing the wave of emotion that almost overcame her. “And now we’re both getting what we deserve for it.”

“Like hell we are.” He felt the spark of rage again. “Neither of us deserve any of this shit, okay?”

“But --”

“No.” He glared at her. That familiar fire rose up inside him. “I’m tired of all your speeches and optimistic crap. You’re always falling over yourself for others. You’re pathetic. This place is hell, so you need to get your shit together and act like it. You might be willing to forgive the others, you might be able to treat them with that stupid sweetness all the time, but no one’s going to do the same for you. Stop letting them fuck with you.”

She gaped at him. He realized he’d leaned in very close. He prepared himself for more tears, or maybe some cowering away from him. Good. Mikoto didn’t need people like her who would convince him this verdict was deserved. He didn’t need any of these people. It was fine to push them all away.

Mahiru surprised him by leaning over. Her head rested on his chest. “It’s hard. It’s so hard, Mikoto. But… I’ll try.”

His attention was quickly ripped away by a hissing behind him. He yanked himself away from her to run to the curry, which was bubbling and burning and spilling out of the pan all over the stovetop.

With an outpouring of profanities and clattering of dishes, he cleaned the sad remains of dinner off the burner. When he looked back at Mahiru, she had dabbed at her eyes and composed herself slightly.

“It’s okay,” she said, “I’ll pick something easier you can make instead.”

“Nah, I’ll make more curry. Tell me how much of everything again.”

“A-alright.”

His agitation slowly faded as she began her gentle instructions again. Though he had just tore her apart for it, he was grateful for her patience with everyone around her. He probably could have left, then, seeing how calm the kitchen became. But he wasn’t risking ruining the meal a second time with an unexpected switch.

And maybe Mahiru’s words still played through his mind.

The food was back on the stove in no time. He stood diligently next to it. They’d lapsed into a content silence. He still didn’t know what had set her off earlier, but wasn’t about to ask questions.

Mahiru had regained her usual bright smile. “Hey, when I get better, I’ll cook something for you, okay? I think you don’t appreciate cooking because no one’s made something special for you before. I want to do that.”

He sneered. “Heh, sure. And I’ll let you in on my preferred art form.” His words were layered with sarcasm. By now, she could guess that included destroying things by putting all of one’s might behind a powerful swing.

But she giggled, completely unfazed. “Well, friendship is about give and take, right? I’d love to try.”

#milgram #mikoto kayano #mahiru shiina #trying to find a balance between his canon violent temper and harsh mannerisms #while showing hes not uncontrollable/frightening and is very protective of his friends as well as himself #he cares but he can only communicate very simply/bluntly #hes used to people being afraid of him specifically so hes suspicious of kindness (but still it means a lot to him)#i wasnt able to articulate it here but i think mahiru likes him so much because of his honesty #when she thought he looked like a cheater it was because she could pick up on his secrets/lies (even if he was unintentionally keeping it)#that and the fact she thinks theyre very similar #i mention he loves bokukoto -- this genuinely could be platonic or romantic depending on your thoughts #but mahiru definitely assumes its romantic asdfsdfds #omg the mental gymnastics i was going through when i first got this request because i wanted this exact setup but knew milgram wouldnt allo #prisoners to just be around all the dangerous utensils and kitchen items -- they could just steal a knife after all!#so i had all these meticulous plans to make it work and then amanes vd was like 'yeah anyone can just pick up a blade whenever' -_- ok #thank you again!! it really did make me crazy to think about it was such a good combination 👀👀👀#and i really was so relieved to do his character some justice ;-; thank you for your kind words!#drabbles

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pastel-rights · 8 months

Note

Rate your friends

oh this anon finally decided to come around [insert tracy happy here]

uhhh it'll be underneath the cut because it's gonna be. long as hell BWAHAHA apologizing ahead of time if I get sappy 😶‍🌫️

sap

sapppp

Rina [ My first real internet friend 🫡]

RINAAA I see you. I see your art. I perceive you.

And, even if we don't talk as much as we used to in the past, you'll always be the first of many great people I've met. And, I really love and appreciate your presence in my life. Dare I say it was life-altering!!

Ocean, Shamia, Arella, and all your other ocs, I'm cradling them in the palms on my hands so so lovingly. I have so many things I need to tell you to be honest !! But goddamnit I have work every night so I'm always busy doing something wahhhh

Anyways.

New Shamia reference when? I need to draw her and her blonde bitchass dog [ jack ] again they're so funny and I miss them 😭

Blue [ My lifelong irl to internet friend ]

From an IRL friend to now an online friend, we just can't get rid of each other. You're so cool...

You don't use tumblr so, I won't talk much further... but I do appreciate you. And all your silly Itto shrine moments.

Tae [ My Beloved Wife 🫶🏼]

She's the Cro to my Lee.

The Shuichi to my Kaede.

The President Barbie to my Stereotypical Barbie.

The Kafka to my Bladie [ unfortunately /lh ]

Theeeee Raiden Ei to my Yae Mikooooo.

My wife is many things to me!! I really really love your art and your writing, and you're always so kind and funny and I just wanna grrrrr I just want to hold all your ocs and all your muses so close I love them all 😭😭😭

although

YOU.

YOU

FUCKING

ASSHOLE /lh

THAT ORPHY EDIT. THOSE KAFKA BLADIE EDITS. THAT PEACE AND FRIENDSHIP TRIO EDIT. TRYING TO GASLIGHT ME INTO THINKING EVERYONE ELSE ISNT REAL. THE MURDER. THE KIDNAPPING. THE DART. THE FUCKING DART. OUGHHHHHHHHH

I HOPE YOU FALL THROUGH THE SKY, JOHN. KER-FUCKING-SPLAT, BITCH. I think you've driven me insane. A little bit.

But.

We're so good we are so good. Don't even WORRY about it.

Sam [ My Infamous Brother-in-Tumblr Law ]

Sam you're so. /pos

I think the Immortalpheus AU has permanently altered my perception on life.

Your writing is. well. it's painful /pos

You're so cryptic and really funny yet you and your sister make me say some weird shit during work. Like the uno cards and the Dazai shenanigans and Immortalpheus moments and whenever you drop some life shattering fics and shit you drop on others.

Crazy.

You're a very nice and fun person, all jokes aside!! You're very cool and very amazing and a delight to game with and just fun to be around??? your AU lore and your bots and everything is just so.

mwah

good friend good friend!!

french /j

Piano Immortalpheus forever immortalized isn’t that funny

Navi [ My detective in arms ]

NAVI.

OUGH.

THOSE VERITY JOURNAL ENTIRIES.

IM SO.

OUGHHHHHHH

Your art and your way of expressing your characters and your son in your writing are just soooo good I rotate them in my head so often.

Whenever I see you posting about your crimes to Tumblr, I simply giggle. Get em, Navi!!

We don't talk very often but like. I'd love to talk more. plot. commit shenanigans. heart hands.

Fifi [ fucking fifi /lh ]

I want to clasp my hands around your neck and rattle you violently /lh /pos

How are we friends /lh

We've been friends so long, it's kind of insane??? I remember first talking to you during Amy's opening event and everything just sort of spiraled from there... and every day with you is. an experience!! /pos

Still waiting for the Tower Bifty interaction fr fr [ they try to murder each other within the first five replies /j ]

Carrie [ my favorite mike enjoyer ]

CARRRIEEEEE

Number One Mike enthusiast the real Mike enjoyer.

Im always so giddy whenever you occasionally message me, even if it's just to check on me or show me how you torment Sam /lh and your writing and way of interpreting differing IDV characters and skins is so good??? I love reading them they make me so giggly.

Overall 10/10 friend would ramble to given the chance

Pins [ my boss /ih ]

MAFIA FISHHHHHHHHHH

stunning

beautiful

talented

pink enthusiast

My actual best friend, dare i say the bestest friend in the world???? every moment I spend with you is a blissful and amazing moment, and you've been through so much with me and the fact you stayed throughout it all????

I'm just... really glad you chose to stick with me this long. I can be a very abrasive and impulsive person, and yet you care for me, even with all my flaws and I think that just... says a lot about you.

You're the Jade to my Chiaki.

The Rook to my Epel.

The Deuce to my Ace!

Also your art just solos everything I glow whenever I see it

Skye [ my twst buddy !! ]

Grabs you

Holds you

Rattles you

Is friend.

Is friend shaped.

Approved /lh

Four [ floyd kinnie moment ]

Stop tormenting me with the take a break floyds you SCARE me

Never will be over the fucking

Ghostbusters Floyd edit

I flex my Beans Floyd in memory of you

You’re not dead I think you’re just somewhere in the distance squeezing someone like your life depends on it

10/10 friend when we ignore the four imposed breaks /j

Beth [ my favorite aesop and naib enjoyer ]

You.

Holds you gently.

The Aesop player

The Panda Naib haver.

The beloved

The silly.

✨ Beth ✨

Your art? Immaculate. I such a adoration for your art, and whenever I’m able to catch your drawing streams??? I’m just in awe!! Your colors and outfit inspirations are just so cute so nice so well done???

You’re so. You’re so cool uwahhh

MarioGuy [ where do you keep coming from I know damn well it isn't the door /lh ]

I feel like you kind of just break into my house sometimes and make yourself known before randomly disappearing through a non existent back door /pos

You’re a delight to be around!! Every match with you is a bit. It’s uhm. Something!! /lh

Please stop breaking into my home

Rice [ i occasionally remember that Mi Bianca thing and cry a little ]

Every time I see you pop up in my notifications I just smile and giggle.

We don’t talk often but you’re just so cool and awesome and your muses are so funky fresh and your art is so good and ????

Yeah.

Klai [ you. ]

You.

Chaos gremlin.

You never learn.

But you’re funny so I guess it’s okay.

Your art is so. It’s like a shiny gem 💎 and I WANT it. Holding it hostage.

My precious friend’s doodles.

Never trusting you to prime a cipher though. No hard feelings /lh

10/10 friend!! 0/10 decoder though /j

Orange [ ORANGEEEE my favorite chaos gremlin ]

ORANGEEEEE 🍊

So funny

So talented

So cool

So so cool

Your art is so good, you’re so funny and talented and a wonder to talk to. Your ideas are so creative so unique and yet so unequivocally you and I just…

I love it!!

Orange stop being so cool /j

Clown [ the greatest step-parent on the scene!! ]

This is utter insanity Clown you can’t be EVERY MUSE’S step parents there has to be a LIMIT!!!

A LINE in the SAND!!!!

Clown PLEASEEE

But also your art.

I’ve talked so much about everyone’s art

Yours reminds me of the feeling of waking up on a snow day and realizing school is canceled.

It’s always such a delight to see!!

And while every time you open your mouth, I get a little more worried about you, you’re so so cool /lh

Lupi [ you. x2 ]

imagine arson? imagine it no more im approaching your house at rapidly increasing speeds with my hello kitty lighter /j

Sleepy [ 🫡 ]

Sleepy!! 🫂 so cool,,, you’re so cool,,, /pos

Emma [ Sorry. Only one monster lover can exist in this server peacefully. GET EM. - emma ]

The caption says it all.

Also Tatya stop accidentally seducing all the muses or nearly getting stabbed or exploded or hypnotized you are worrying the GIRLIES! /lh

Al [ you have the vibes of the drunk wine family member in a /pos way ]

I don’t talk to you often but whenever you come around, it makes me so giggly. You’re very funny and your art slaps!!

Joe [ joe the silliest ]

JOE

Joe

Joe!

Your art? Funky fresh.

The lore? So interesting I love the little snippets I see floating around.

You’re so creative

Your Embrace is so funny they scream sacrificial lamb uncle who’s kind of fun at parties /lh

They’ve also got a really nice and warm personality, chaotic yet chill and relatable.

Kind of reminds me of Sam but without the entities 🫶🏼

Nakki [ you. x3 ]

Grabs you like a squeaky toy

That’s it that’s everything tbh

Kory, Boris, Brian [ and the rest of the McMun's Hut /lh ]

And this goes out to all my friends and acquaintances in the McMun’s hut! What is wrong with all of you /pos/lh (except you Boris, you’re an Angel)

Everyone there is super chill and super nice, and they’re a lot of fun to be around. So many differing personalities yet it’s always a vibe somehow.

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annasinterests · 10 months

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don't look at me like that unless you mean it

pain, make your way to me, to me ♫ and i'll always be just so inviting

|| series masterlist || main masterlist ||

a/n: this chapter properly beat my ass. like. i struggled so hard to write this one you guys. however, i'm excited for the chapter after this one! i do think the next one will be a lot longer than the previous chapters, i've written a lot and i haven't even gotten halfway the plot of it. that being said, it may take a little longer to push out! as well as the fact that i will be working a lot this week (i do contracting work so i'm also lowkey daydreaming of joel half the time and let me tell you,, i will prob be putting out works based on those daydreams alone lmfaooo). anyways, i'll cut the rambling short- hope you guys are enjoying this fic! :)

word count: 3k

pairings: joel miller x f!reader

warnings & tags: minors dni, angst, reader dealing with past trauma, depictions of anxiety, ellie and reader spend time together, joel is cute at the end — please tell me if i missed anything!

Today marked your final day of administration duties for the week before a much-needed two-day break for patrol rotation.

You dreaded the switch more than ever now, but also because of the heat. During the summer, patrol weeks always felt like they came too quick. You could do the cool nights, you actually looked forward to those more, but you absolutely hated the long, unbearably hot days that preceded them.

The house had been quiet since your last conversation with Joel days ago. Since he held your face and told you that everything was going to be okay with the most tender look on his. Since you once again walked that careful line of what is and what could be.

During the day, you were able to keep yourself occupied with work, but it was harder at night when all you could do was stare at the ceiling and think yourself down a hole.

Ellie took note of your change in behavior. In fact, she knew it all too well. How it always looked like your head was somewhere else other than the present, the quietness, the thousand-yard stare. She especially sensed it when she overheard you and Joel talking on the back porch one night when you thought she wasn’t home, revisiting your previous conversation and asking how to break it to her that she couldn’t do patrol until things settled down. Though she didn’t outright confront you about it, she knew something was under your skin.

And she was right; you just couldn’t shake this off. So, you slung your pack over your shoulder and your gun in its holster on the way out to find the one person who could give you the answers you sought: Maria.

Her office resided on the second floor of the town hall, facing the wall built around Jackson, specifically arranged so she could watch the gate when she wasn't doing other duties around the town.

You thought up reasons and excuses to give for dropping in, but they all pointed to ones that wouldn’t warrant a visit or would reveal too much of your own thoughts.

Coming to the Bison tomorrow? No. She wouldn’t be interested in having that conversation, probably. Hey, any updates from patrol? Too direct. She’ll know you’re looking for something. You scoffed at yourself for not having a better plan.

Approaching her door, you silently prepared yourself for a somewhat calculated conversation. You knew her guarded nature, and you needed to employ a cunning approach to elicit the details you came for. Be light– not intrusive or eager. Maria was smart, you had to conceal and control your words and expressions.

You plastered on the biggest smile you could muster and knocked on the door, peeking your head in. “Maria, not catching you at a bad time, am I?”

Her head turned towards you, “Oh please, come in,” she gestured for you to join her at the window she stood at, "out of anyone, I'm glad it's you that came knocking."

This.. could be easier than you thought. You sauntered over next to her and followed her line of sight that fell upon the patrol, they'd been in a tight circle just before the gate. Tommy stood in the center of it all– seemingly giving a speech as he pointed and paired up people as he went along. When you caught sight of Joel, your heart skipped a beat, followed by a weight of discomfort. You watched as Fitz strolled over to him with a wide grin, which of course he didn’t return.

"Most of the time, I don't feel anything when he leaves," Maria's voice was calm and steady, "because part of me knows that he'll come back." She maintained her gaze below, shaking her head that it was almost imperceptible. "But now.. I'm not so sure of that."

You turned your attention to her, eyebrows slightly furrowed, looking for any indication of emotion from her words, but she stayed the same. Relaxed. Which contrasted from what she was insinuating. And while she was speaking of her own dilemma, you couldn't help but see that it was yours too.

“I’m gonna tell you something that has to stay between us,” you eased your expression as she shifted to face you, “and I’m gonna trust that you keep it to yourself, for now, at least.” Her eyes locked on you with caution before turning away to her desk, leaning her weight upon her palms.

"This group.. They're called the Washington Liberation Front. Most of them are former Fireflies."

Your jaw tensed at the name. The Fireflies, once perceived as fighting for a good cause, had betrayed you in the worst way possible, almost taking another person you loved, and framing it as a sacrifice for the greater good of humanity. Your hands twitched into a fist at the memory.

“Tommy started noticing the same descriptions on the patrol logs, so he sent a small group out for a couple weeks to see if they could find a trail.” You glanced back towards the window; the patrol had already left. "They found camps, concealed caches full of weapons and supplies.. And believe it or not, the last Firefly activity.”

You snapped your head at Maria as she chuckled lowly.

“Seems like they had some big operation in..” she flicked through some papers on her desk, dragging her finger across a page and tapping it once she found it, “Salt Lake City.”

It was like a pair of hands wrapped themselves around your throat.

No.

“I just- I don’t know-” she shook her head, “I don’t know what Jackson has to do with it.”

The wounds were tearing open, reminding you of all the bloodshed from that day, and how it stained your hands permanently. That shattered hospital, a place forever burned into your memories, tormented your conscience and left you wishing that you could erase every second spent in there.

You slowly leaned your arm on the window sill, trying to stabilize yourself as it felt like you could've collapsed right then and there. You hoped to God that your face wasn't giving anything away as you tried to maintain steady eye contact with her, even though she wasn't looking at you. She pulled a tattered paper from her drawer and handed it to you. "We found this the night before the meeting."

With shaky hands, you unfolded a map marked with color-coded strategic points and messages in regard to the group's surveillance of Jackson.

The havoc you wreaked on the Fireflies hadn’t been enough to end them, leading to something far worse; a bigger, stronger, more threatening militia than you could’ve imagined. The weight of the world threatened to crush you, you tried to control your breathing through your nose and struggled to keep your hand steady as you looked over the map. You felt your heart beating so hard that you were sure Maria could hear it too.

You had to maintain your composure. Nobody in Jackson knew, not even Tommy, and you were not about to fill the gaps for Maria right now.

As you studied it, you noticed an emblem in the top right corner that read ‘W.L.F’ with a crudely drawn wolf head right beneath it. Ugh– another one of those cliché military group symbols designed with an overinflated ego and heightened sense of self-importance. Overlooking your personal issues with it, you read a specific note in red ink:

WV - EC - CB

MVL > BM

Mike, Tango 2x, Sierra 2x

Fuck, that does looks like some sort of tracking. Goddamnit, Tommy.

Your face scrunched up as you reread the words, racking your brain to figure out the combination of military-alphabet and abbreviations. You held up the map with an inquisitive brow, “Have you figured this out?”

“No,” Maria shook her head as she pulled out more papers from her desk, stacking them gently before pushing them into your possession, “but I think maybe you can."

She looked at you in a way that let you know that you couldn't decline at least trying. You reluctantly nodded as you folded up the map and added it to the pile you held in between your fingers. Her trust in you was appreciated, but at the same time, you didn’t want it. Not for this, at least.

You gave her an affiliative smile and turned away to the door, but she called your name at the last moment as your hand grabbed the handle, anchoring you where you stood. You turned over your shoulder to her.

“Do you have any idea what they want with Jackson?”

You bit your lip and shook your head in a moment of silence.

“No.”

The rest of the day dragged on longer than ever, and forcing yourself through interactions proved harder to be than you thought. Even though most of your conversations were regular routine checks, you dreaded each one. You counted down the minutes until you could seal yourself away in your home.

The papers stuck out of your pack the whole day, a nagging reminder of what you had to look at sooner or later.

As soon as the town lights came on, that was your cue that your work day had come to a close, and you carried yourself home as quickly as possible, feeling like your legs would give up on you at any moment. Once the door clicked shut, you slumped against it and slid until you hit the floor, throwing the cursed papers away from you and sitting in complete silence and darkness.

You wanted to cry. Scream. Punch, kick, or break something. All day, you had to bottle up this knowledge while faking your smiles and laughs. But now it all came barreling down on your head. You had just gotten everything back, finally able to put the past behind you. But you felt it resurfacing with a mean fucking vengeance, and you didn’t know if you could endure it this time.

If this was your karma– a toll had already been taken. How much more had to give for your sins?

You tried to take deep breaths, but they seemed to make things worse. A familiar dizziness and numbness riddled your body as your hands and arms trembled. The air was getting thicker, and you were gasping out, fearing you couldn’t get enough of it into your lungs. Tears blurred your vision and hot streaks streamed down your face. Involuntarily, you rocked back and forth, hiding your face in your hands and knees that were pulled to your chest, and letting out broken cries and choked breaths.

It hit you with an overwhelming force. Your thoughts spiraled, each worry and concern feeding into the next. Minutes stretched into eternity, and it felt impossible to rip yourself from the vicious cycle.

You rested your head against the door, pushing out heavy sighs to ground yourself from the come down of adrenaline, and letting a profound exhaustion settle in. You rubbed at your eyes to dry any residual tears and massaged your temples, staring straight forward at the laundry room at the end of the hall. The streetlight filtered through the back door and glowed over a pair of Joel’s boots and Ellie’s sneakers kicked off next to each other. You whimpered and closed your eyes, not ready to start crying all over again.

You wanted them home so indescribably bad.

When you opened them, they landed on the documents strewn about the floor in front of you. And with a flicker to the laundry room and back, you leaned forward to grab them and pushed yourself off the floor.

Upstairs in your room, you flicked on a lamp and spread out the papers onto your bed to see exactly what Maria had given you: The map and a roster of members retrieved from their camp, a copy of Jackson's previous and future patrol schedules, threat assessment reports from patrolmen, and descriptions pulled from patrol logs.

You lazily glossed over the threat assessment reports, most of them contained the same details and alluded to the same idea that they meant harm. You didn’t bother looking at the roster and patrol logs for now, not even trying to attempt to make connections between descriptions and names and whatnot.

You grouped the items and slipped them into your nightstand drawer, turning your attention back to the map and patrol schedule. You sunk into your bed as you flipped through the several pages of the schedule, reading the same names, days, and times over and over again, your eyes lingering longer when they read Joel’s name.

After a certain point, you couldn’t make out anything, and a fizzled-out frustration crept in as the pieces of parchment became nothing more than just blurs of ink. Your head was pounding between the crying and attempting to make sense of all the information. Your fingers soothed the skin on the bridge of your nose, gliding over your eyebrows and temples, and then dragging down to rest your cheeks in the palms of your hands.

“Hello! Anybody home?”

Ellie’s voice caught you off guard, you hadn’t even heard the front door open.

“Up here!”

You quickly stowed away the rest of the papers in your nightstand and made your way downstairs. She'd been taking her shoes off on the couch when you saw her, and you felt instant relief. She was home. Home and safe. She peered over her shoulder at you as she fussed with the laces, "All the lights were off?"

“Oh- I just.. got in a few minutes ago,” you turned into the kitchen in time to miss the iffy look she gave you, “wasn’t sure if you were coming home or not.”

Ellie followed into the kitchen after you. “Sorry, I know you said not to be out past curfew,” she gestured two glass tupperwares in her hands towards you, “I was packing up leftovers from Dina’s for you and Joel.”

With that sheepish smile on her face, you couldn’t even be mad at her. She’d been late because of you. You smiled warmly at the sentiment, placing them on the counter and pulling her into a hug, holding her longer and tighter than you normally would, afraid to let go as if maybe you wouldn’t get the chance again. As you broke away, you lovingly smoothed her hair, “Thank you, Ellie.”

She stayed in the kitchen even after you went to store the leftovers in the fridge, watching you with an attentiveness you weren’t particularly used to from her. “Something on your mind?”

Her bottom lip jutted out, her voice a little higher than normal. “No.. Just wondering if maybe you wanted to.. watch a movie?” A small smile appeared on her face as she raised her shoulders.

You mirrored her smile. “I’d love to, kiddo. Why don’t you go pick out what you want to watch?”

She shook her head, walking over to you and guiding you out of the kitchen. “Nuh-uh. You always let me pick, I want you to pick and I’ll get everything else ready.”

You chuckled at her insistence and padded into the living room, crouching before the media center and picking through the titles until you found the one that piqued your interest the most.

Once you had it, you popped it into the DVD player and fiddled with the remote until it was at the title screen. You moved the coffee table in front of the tv and pulled the couch over accordingly, and just when you were about to go fetch more blankets and pillows, Ellie joined you with your share of the leftovers heated up “just incase” and a plethora of snacks and drinks. She swatted at you to sit while she reminded you that you were only supposed to pick the movie and nothing more, scolding you down the hall as she retrieved all the movie night necessities.

“Curtis and Viper 2? I swear, you and Joel are the same person sometimes!” She laughed as she finally saw the screen. “Speaking of Joel– he’s gonna be so mad when he sees that we watched it without him-”

“Again!” You blurted out with her, falling into a fit of laughter.

For the next almost two hours, you were able to forget about your entire day, solely enjoying the time you had with Ellie. Together, you recited your favorite lines from the film without missing a beat, humming the soundtrack while making dramatic action-like moves with your arms at each other. You bursted out in laughter at the cheesy one-liners, and gripped the blanket with anticipation at the climax of the film, though you knew the resolution. Your cheeks hurt from smiling so much and your lungs ached in a happy pain.

This was what you needed.

In somewhere in the falling point of the film, you dozed off to sleep, unable to fight against the soft pillows and blankets you were wrapped up in. Ellie noticed when she went to nudge you during another scene you both loved and you didn’t respond, and instead of waking you up, she lowered the volume on the tv and sat with you until the end credits rolled.

It was well after midnight when Joel came home and Ellie was already in her house in the back. She’d tiptoed around the house to clean up so you wouldn’t have to in the morning, but forgot to put the DVD back with the others.

He almost walked past the living room until he saw the furniture rearranged, taking a few steps in to see you peacefully sleeping on the couch. He mustered up a tired smile at the sight of you, gently reaching out to brush stray hairs from your face.

And when he noticed Curtis and Viper 2 still on the coffee table, his smile deepend despite missing out on movie night once again. He spoke in a whisper that could have easily been to you or himself.

“You two are gonna be the death of me, you know that?”

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller fic #tlou #the last of us #tlou fanfiction #annasmasterlist #annawrites

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earnmysong · 4 months

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the gloriously kind @goddesspharo tapped me to to share my top five favorite songs. thank youuuuuu, darling! i'm going to follow her lead and go with the top five that have been on heavy rotation for the past two weeks. top five ever everrrrr is too much pressure! hitting up @firstaudrina, @andrea-lyn, @cashewdani, @empressearwig, and anyone else, should they wish!

'apex predator' + i'd rather be me' TIE - the mean girls musical movie cast | auli'i cravalho's riff in 'apex...' - *will she braid your hair? will she eat your heart? ... * H E L P P P; 'i'd rather be me' is legitimately one of my greatest auditory affinities, and i could never forgo its inclusion!

'she used to be mine' - sara bareilles | i adore all that sara chooses to be and have watched the waitress musical movie every three nights or so since it was released for purchase!

'bidi bidi bom bom' - selena [quintanilla] | brie larson's golden globe moment had me rewatching this movie, and most days i've got some segment of this tune in my head anyway.

who says - selena [gomez] | after forwarding my father the linda ronstadt biopic news (he harbors a lack of belief in my girl's talent, for whatever reason), this has become my customary alarm song!

all-american bitch - olivia rodrigo | always. forever.

#music #about e #thoughts: i have them

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happi-tree · 1 year

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For the ship ask game hmmm... 😌 Well I already know you're not very into gothcleats but perhaps that one anyways! Otherwise... 😆 Ahaha can I ask a few?? How about hencedes, glennry, sparrow/nicky, and nark? No worries if you don't feel up for doing all of them! 💜

Hi, Bababird! Hope you're having a beautiful day 🖤🖤🖤 And yes ofc I can whip up some gothcleats for you! And the other ones!!! I am always willing to provide my silly little thoughts 😌

Alright (ha), as promised: gothcleats time!

Honestly? I don't mind it! I think there's a lot of fun parallels and intertwining themes to be found in their extant relationship, and I definitely enjoy looking at the cute fanart I've seen of them on occasion. I probably would ship it if my lesbian Scary hc wasn't so real to me! I would absolutely adore seeing them in a qpr though - I actually really like the idea of the teens all being in a qpr together. Nobody comes between Scary and her boys 😤😤😤 Nonetheless, Link and Scary have such an interesting dynamic and I feel like it's very much been a highlight over the past few episodes - I mean, Link breaking the anchor of love as an act of solidarity with Scary? Link refusing to let Scary go even as she Eldritch Blasts him? The genuine fear in Scary's voice when she thinks she might've killed Link??? It's so much, truly it is. I'm SO excited for whatever Matt and Beth have planned with their characters going forward, and while it's not my personal cup of tea romantically, I truly do love the gothcleats relationship!

Okay next up: Hencedes!

HENCEDES T4T BI4BI COUPLE OF ALL TIME!!!! NON-NEGOTIABLE!!! They are truly so much if I think about them too hard I will start crying!!! Everything about them is so fucking sweet and lovely and truly. Relationship goals fr!!! They're so strange and bizarre separately and even MORE strange and bizarre together and their devotion to each other is so so so very precious to me. Like. Their story makes me so unhinged actually I am so glad they exist. Mercedes really truly takes all of Henry's oddities in stride and he does the same for her,,, their cute little nicknames for each other,,, they would lay down their lives for each other without a second thought and I love them so much for that. I want nothing but happiness for them forever and ever and ever ok (looks pointedly at the current state of s2). I am a Hencedes stan first and a person second thank you <333

Okok next: Glennry!

In case you haven't realized. *Slaps "HUGE MULTISHIPPER" sticker on my forehead* like yourself, Baba, I also contain multitudes 😌 Anyway Glennry is SO fun to rotate around in my head, personally. I think they could learn quite a bit from each other as partners - with Glenn, Henry could get a bit more in touch with his rebellious side, and Henry could help Glenn in his struggles with emotional vulnerability. Their friendship works well as is in canon, obviously (well, s1 canon since we're not entirely sure what's going on with s2 Henry yet), but the potential of them as romantic partners is so great and so fun! They should kiss. For funsies. At least to piss off Bear Ry'Oak, if anything else <3

Up next: Sparrow/Nicky (/Spark/lovesong/highjinx/whatever other fun names exist for these two)!

And if I told you Spark was my latest obsession. What then. Literally I have been losing my mind over them for the past few days (thanks Nyx and Ivy <3) and I show no signs of regaining normalcy anytime soon!!! I just think there is SO much potential for exploring a romantic relationship between the two of them - or even something like a qpr, if you wanna go the Sparoace route! Literally could not get to sleep last night because I was thinking about them so hard. Similarly to Oakworthy, both Nick and Sparrow have such deep-seated issues regarding identity - Sparrow seems to define himself by being half of a matched set and doesn't really let himself be anything other than the Sparrow part of Lark-and-Sparrow. Nicky, of course, has. Gestures at the entire latter half of s1. And I think that if anyone can understand what either of them are going through, it's each other - and maybe they can just exist together. Without labels or expectations - not Nicholas, Jodie's son, or Sparrow, the more stable twin, or Nick, Glenn's son - just being Nicky and Sparrow and maybe also being in love. I also just think the imagery of it is wonderful - druid and demon, summer and winter, life and death, plant life and fire. Real Hades-and-Persephone type shit, which I personally love to see!

And lastly, finally, Nark!

So sorry to all the Nark stans out there but Sparrow/Nick has so thoroughly taken over my brain. I do love the idea of this ship - not only the aesthetics (hehe the demonic savior and the fallen angel), but the tragedy of it all - how the love may have been there, and in another world it may have been enough, but that world isn't this one. I have read many a Nark fic and I'd be hard-pressed to find one I didn't like, but it's not my go-to ship, personally. On another note, though, I do think Nark has some hilarious comedic potential as well - especially when paired with other ships like Sparrow/Cassandra (thank you tumblr user llumimoon for that particular piece of fanart - you know the one, I'm pretty sure you still have it pinned, Baba). But yeah! Fun ship - not my personal fave, but one that's very, very neat to pick apart and analyze!

Annnnnnnd I think that about wraps up my thoughts - for anyone who read this far, I'm giving you forehead kisses /p because that was A Lot. Thanks for the ask, Bababird!!! 🖤

#on an entirely separate note the 'i'm sending them to superhell' space is SO funny considering. superhell is a Canonical Place skjdbgkhsdbs #this was. very long. but yes i hope you enjoy baba!!! so many thoughts about all of these truly #thanks for the ask lovebird!!!#ask game #babacontainsmultitudes #dndads #gothcleats #hencedes #glennry #spark #lovesong #nark #ok i. think that's all the tags i need. phew!#happi rambles

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cleric4vampire · 16 days

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Rules: name 3 songs that have been stuck in your head for the past few days

Thank you for tagging me, @dolceaspidenera! any opportunity to ramble about music is very appreciated 😊I also got tagged by @bhaalsdeepbat (thank you!) for a 'name 5 of your current favorite songs' thing, which isn't the exact same as this, but I'll combine them here anyway 😂

Wildflower and Barley by Hozier feat Allison Russell

The sun hesitates more on each evening's darkenin' Would all things God allows remain above ground Like grief and sweet memory, wildflower and barley

Okay so basically this whole EP has been making a constant rotation in my head since it came out, but the song that's currently occupying my head is Wildflower and Barley. It's just so good, I love the lyrics and the visuals they conjure, it's fun to sing. My favorite part is Allison's backing vocals in the chorus ("The healers, Are healing", etc.)

2. Only When I by Alice Phoebe Lou

Sometimes it feels like I could give it all up to be held by you But that's not all the time No, not all the time Only when I can't breathe Only when I wanna believe Only when it's late at night Only when I don't feel right Only when I touch my body Only when I'm feeling naughty Only when you're far away Far away Far away

I love so many songs off this album and this one is no exception! It's sad, pitiable, and sexy lol what's not to like!! (also it's so durgetash to me...)

3. synthesizer by De'Wayne

She's a synthesizer Orchestrates the band She's got the whole world wrapped around her finger She's a synthesizer Baby, don't you understand? She's my Heaven, she's my Earth She's my woman, she's my man

I randomly came across this one. It's not lyrically complex but it is very catchy and fun. A mood lifter and a great song to dance to. The reason it really got me is the part in the chorus that goes "You're my woman, you're my man". I heard that and my lil queer heart was like, oh? 👀

4. Agoraphobia by Autoheart

But I am dented by the scars* They keep me up at night And it's not agoraphobia It's just a lack of air supply That keeps me up at night

*Genius says the correct word here is "skies" but "scars" makes more sense to me so I'm leaving it 😂

THIS SONG UGHHHH I have it on my Gale playlist so the psychic damage I receive from it is multiplied tenfold lol but I CAN'T STOP

5. Witches by Alice Phoebe Lou

Me, I've got my own little magic And I'm not tryna wreak havoc It's just that sometimes I see something and I just need to have it Let's share a few dirty habits

oop, another one by Alice Phoebe Lou! I've had this saved for ages, but for some reason it's wormed its way into my head as though I've never heard it before!!

tagging @dragon--sage @anderstrevelyan @justabiteofspite @birb--birb @witch-from-a-block-of-flats and whoever else wants to do this!!

#forreal if you wanna be tagged in stuff regularly just tell me and I'll do it lol <3 I just have a hard time remembering sometimes #tag game

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nancypullen · 28 days

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A Day Off

Hallelujah! What a perfect day. I worked until six o'clock on Wednesday and practically danced out of the library. I have been rotating between the information desk and the circulation desk and the good citizens of this county have worn me out. The last several days have been a bit wonky. There were ten thousand calls asking if we have free eclipse glasses -we didn't, but could direct you to a place that does and/or provide instructions for making your own viewer out of a cereal box and aluminum foil. There was an event giving away free laptops to qualifying residents that was like the last flight out of Saigon. In the words of an unflappable coworker, "There was chaos in every corner of the building." Don't even get me started about Mercury being in retrograde. Like I said, wonky. Saturday was actually quite nice because it was opening day for Little League and there was a parade down Market Street with plenty of cute kids. When I arrived home on Saturday the Edgewater gang showed up and we celebrated Mr. Pullen's birthday. Jamie and I convinced the fellas to accompany us to a greenhouse to hunt for some plants, a greenhouse that the grandgirl said was "in the middle of nowhere". She wasn't wrong. We came home with lots of lovelies for the gardens, a successful trip! This is my favorite picture snapped over the weekend. Tyler and Jamie in a chess battle on the front porch. Never say it's not exciting around here.

I was back to work on Monday (eclipse day) for three busy days, and now I'm free! We delayed our trip to Lancaster for a day to let the bad weather blow through, so we'll leave in the morning, stay over Friday night, and come home later on Saturday. I'm anticipating some fun. Speaking of fun, here's another photo I loved. I'm pretty sure that I'm allowed to post this because she's masked. No one could ever identify her from this photo (and I've been good for six years). I'll delete if they ask. Anyway, this is our little miss on Monday. Isn't it cute pic?

Fast forward to today and I've shed all of the work nonsense and I'm feeling quite content. I spent the entire morning weeding and preparing flower beds, then planting some of the pretties that I picked up at Ball Greenhouses last week. I know I'm early, but these are hardy girls. If Mother Nature turns fickle I'll just be the crazy lady running around tossing sheets over gardens. Wouldn't be the first time. It's a small price to pay for the happiness of today. Working the dirt and dreaming of the blooms to come was good for my soul. I needed this day. Another little something that has recently delighted me is this stuff.

Because I'm at work for nine hours, I have recently become addicted to sugary, fattening, fancy coffee drinks. I'd zip through Starbucks on my lunch break and pick up an iced caramel macchiato , then I started buying the bottles at the grocery store and filling my big sippy cup (that I normally use for water) in the mornings. I was adding way too many calories to my day. So, I searched for a healthier replacement drink that would still give me the boost - and I found it! I'm not on Atkins or Keto or any of those diets, but I definitely appreciate the low sugar/carb count. This protein shake has the same amount of caffeine as a cup of coffee, with added protein and fiber. It's a win! I can have this for breakfast and feel no guilt. Getcha' some! This post is sort of all over the place, sorry about that. I don't have a lot to say and I didn't sit down with a plan. I just opened my laptop and wanted to say hi. I do miss having more time to spend being silly here. The older I get the less I care about being silly. Look at these cool sunglasses I bought in a little shop in Chestertown. Silly for a woman my age? Yes. Do I care? Absolutely not.

I just notice that my name tag for work is all jacked up by my seatbelt. Hope I straightened that out once I got there, but I don't remember doing it. Oops. Several of you have asked about whether or not I'm enjoying my job. It's complicated. I've mentioned my lovely coworkers, I've mentioned that I'm having fun doing the displays, there are plenty of positives. I'm trying to focus on what I have gained and not what I have lost. I do miss having time for hobbies, doing more than work, eat, sleep, repeat. Of course, as I type this I'm looking ahead to three days off - wonderful! The 16th will mark three months in my position, so I do feel I've given it a fair shake...and I just don't know. I'm really pouring a lot of energy, creativity, and effort into this job and I do feel that it's appreciated. They are very nice to me and pay me adequately. I'm just undecided if it's a fair trade for my freedom. I mostly talk about the fun parts, the nice parts, but there are also the not-so-fun parts. A surprising number of books are returned with bed bugs. We have two large "stink boxes" that are usually full of books returned that reek of everything from cigarette smoke, pot, or just general funk. They sit in there with charcoal rocks until they're bearable. Lots of people are rude, really rude. I got used to that when I was in the airline industry, but it doesn't make it any more pleasant. I could go on, couldn't we all? No job is ever perfect, and in the past I tolerated the unpleasant aspects because I had no choice. I don't have to do that anymore. I've been asked to take on some summer programming work - fun activities with kids, outreach booths at festivals, that sort of thing. I'm looking forward to that, and it's been a while since I've had things to look forward to. Well, that's not true. I've had loads of fun family stuff that happened and even a trip to Ireland in the last year, but as far as having something that gives me a chance to actually use my brain and any meager talents I have - this is the first chance since we left Tennessee. I just wish it wasn't so exhausting. Is that just me being sixty? It's kind of funny that I'm twenty to thirty years older than nearly everyone I work with, but they're all so tired. I don't want to scare them about getting older, but I feel like I should drop hints like, "I hope you like ibuprofen..." or "Enjoy those cute shoes while you can..." Honestly, I work circles around most of them, and I shouldn't. Where is their energy? I have to admit that when I'm shelving, and for some reason all of our shelves have books at floor level (why??), it is not fun getting up and down. I actually love shelving because the more books I touch the more familiar I am with the collection, but that bottom shelf will be the death of me. I snapped this picture last week when I was processing books. Some were going out to other libraries, some had been requested locally and were going on our hold shelf, some were being checked in and returned to our shelves.

That back wall is my work area. To the left you can see some of the 50+ craft bags that I assembled to go home with our little visitors. I love those. They have all of the supplies and instructions needed to complete a small craft. To the right of the craft bags are a couple of shelves of books pulled for mending or labeling. Under the desk are the infamous stink boxes. I wish they'd let me decorate this work room. It needs color and art. It should be pretty. Pretty isn't very important around here. That's definitely something I miss about the south. I put a little bit of the south into one of my small displays. We have a good collection of cookbooks here, so I grabbed a tablecloth and sign from our house, and voila!

This hardly counts as a display - just two pieces of decor and some books, but it's working - people are checking out cookbooks! I swap them out every couple of days to keep it interesting. Here's another little bit of nothing - just pillow stuffing glued to cardstock for clouds, the raindrops are cardstock and string. Rainy Day Reads!

See what I mean? None of it is great (I have no budget!) but it's the fun part. So much of the rest is exhausting. They're advertising for a couple of new positions, so maybe if they find the right people I could work fewer hours. If that were the case I could do this for a long time. I'm already cooking up some fun ideas for May. I have my book lists ready and one display will definitely be "Once Upon a Crime..." complete with crime scene tape and a chalk body outline on the floor (actually white painters tape). I may do a Sci-Fi display with an alien saying, "Take me to your reader." We have a huge biography section though, so I probably should use those instead. I could make a giant name tag, like the ol' "Hello, my name is______" that we've all had to wear at some point. I could put up a sign that says Meet someone new, try a biography and put out a variety of interesting people - founding fathers to modern musicians, CoCo Chanel to Sally Ride. Anywho, just letting those ideas rattle around in my brain. I'll figure it out. Wow, I've rambled far too long and it's all disjointed and kooky. I guess I was overdue for a visit here. I'm happy today because I'm home. I hope that you're happy too, or at least on your way to being happy. I suppose we all have to figure out what that means for us, and where it is for us. I know it's not on that damn bottom shelf at the library.

The mister is turning off lights and heading for bed, so I guess that's my cue. We'll run off to Lancaster in the morning so I'll be back on Sunday to share a bit of that with you. It may be nothing but Amish buggies in the rain, but I have a feeling we'll find some fun. If you've made it all the way to the end of this snoozefest of a post, give yourself a cookie. You deserve it. Consider yourself hugged. Stay tuned for the Griswolds' adventures in Pennsylvania Dutch country! Until then, stay safe, stay well, and know how very much I've missed you. XOXO, Nancy

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