#hypothermic-art

[hypothermic-art]

HYPTOBER (Hypothermia October) Day 1 ; teeth This is my seal dragon (designed by buckeeraART), Oat. She is literally the embodiment of a round baby so I thought it would be fun to draw her as a leopard seal smiling post-meal with her scary teeth and soft demeanor.

#first post #digital art #seal dragon #seal #leopard seal #oat #hypothermic-art #hypothermia #contact me on discord @ hypothermia #furry #fursona #anthro #furry art #feral #feral oc

[spookystew]

hello tumblr ive been Very gone for a while due to becoming horrendously obsessed with a guy that only 3 people like from a game i don't play. feast your eyes upon my doodle dump if you will. Ok thats all

+ cursed skittays from november

#if you see my art style changing its fine. change is fine i love change. Starts trembling like a hypothermic lizard #sp arts #okay thats all ^_^ #thanks for stopping by #i just wanted to get notes from something other than my old posts #new year new me etc

[mmaurysiek]

a quick pic inspired by @muffinlance's salvage

Zuko's hair is partly grown out, he has pierced ear, but is still wearing a too-large shirt -- except it's a short-sleeved one, unlike in the fic. i might've mixed up the order of events while doodling?

(art tips and image description help are always welcome)

under the cut is another pic that came out too badly to publish on its own, but too well to not share:

(image description:) a bright-on-reddish-brown unfinished picture illustration of a scene from Muffinlance's salvage where one crewman is on a shift is trying to share body heat with squirming hypothermic Zuko, and another crewman is standing over them (/end image description)

#avatar the last airbender #atla #atla fanart #zuko #maurysiek draws #atla zuko #prince zuko #salvage

[doomreedweek]

DoomReed Week 2024 Prompts:

Oct 27, Sun: Victor kidnaps Reed *see below! (Alt: Secret hookup)

Oct 28, Mon: 2005-07 F4 movie, scene continuation *any scene - see below (Alt: "You're mine.")

Oct 29, Tues: Master! Victor & Slave! Reed (Alt: Enemies to Lovers)

Oct 30, Wed: "Strip. You heard me. I don't like repeating myself." (Alt: Hypothermia trope (see below))

Oct 31, Thur: Victor forcing Reed to kneel (Alt: A demonic entity wants Reed's soul, Victor has to save him.)

Nov 1, Fri: Love confession during a fight/battle (Alt: Choking)

Nov 2, Sat: Freeform!

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

We got some very detailed prompts this year, and I try to keep things broad for maximum utility, but don't want to leave these on the cutting room floor, so here's the expanded versions:

For Oct 27: "2005-07 Movieverse continuation where Victor comes back and kidnaps Reed (for revenge, etc), what happens when they're alone together is up to the author"

For Oct 28: "That famous scene from the 2005 movie where Victor froze Reed, but what if Sue never showed up and Victor got to do whatever he wanted to Reed? Can either be angsty or kinky."

For Oct 30: "Hypothermia trope -- if Reed is hypothermic then Victor has to keep him warm (skin against skin method), or if Victor is hypothermic then Reed has to keep him warm"

Also new this year: a lot of nsfw prompts. I've tried to keep things balanced, and of course any "nsfw" prompt can be applied numorously instead, one of them losing a bet or the dialogue happens in a different setting than the reader might expect.

To participate:

Just follow the prompt to create a fan work of some kind (art, fic, drabble, video, themed playlist, anything featuring this ship and that prompt, or whatever prompt you like for the Freeform day) - and post here, on Twitter, or on Instagram with the tag #DoomReedWeek2024

We also have a collection for this year's set up on ao3 at: https://archiveofourown.org/collections/doomreedweek2024/profile

This is year #5 and I'm really hyped about it 🤭 see everybody in October!

#ill flesh out the collection later on i like to keep everything in theme 😌 #doomreed #reed richards #victor von doom #doctor doom #mister fantastic #doomreedweek #doomreedweek2024

[marisferasiop]

Transplant: Part 2/3

MINORS DNI - EXPLICIT! clicking readmore implies your consent!

Summary: You and Ezra get closer; Joel pines; Tommy interferes.

Part One: ao3 / Tumblr

The weeks tick by and you’re not as busy- once the snow melts, the standard visit predictably turns from common colds and finding hypothermic people in the snow and dealing with ice- related slips and falls to finding errant infected outside the walls and a few burgeoning pregnancies inside them. 

You’re talking to such a patient in an exam room on Saturday when you hear the door in the front jingle. You poke your head out and call that you’ll be right there. You finish explaining the process of a termination to the terrified young woman on the chair in front of you and leave her to her decision. “I’ll be back in a few minutes hon. Let me know. You can take some time, but it’ll be harder to bounce back the longer you wait. It’s really early now.” 

You come out to the waiting area to see Tommy, Cee, and Ezra in a row of seats, looking expectant. “Hey, guys. What’s up?” 

Tommy stands and waves a hand at the newcomers. “We’re trying to find jobs for these two. Cee has some trauma care experience, as it pans out, and before the slavers took their QZ and put him in the mines, Ezra says he was a- an herbalist?” He frowns and turns back. 

“Forager, primarily smuggling in medicinal herbs and growin’ weed outside the QZ walls,” he chuckles with an easy grin. “But I have a keen knowledge of medicinal and ayurvedic foliage, as well as how to cure tinctures and blend salves and the like. I believe if I'm partnered with someone with a gun until I can train up my off hand with such a weapon, I can be useful foraging and working in that arena.” 

“Right,” you glance back at Tommy, eyebrow cocked. “I mean, me and Sam can definitely use another for rotation. You want me to train Cee up in medicine?” 

“I’m thinking you train Cee up, and take Ezra with you when you go on foraging rounds with the patrolmen, and he can make the salves and tinctures and whatever. And otherwise he can help in the community garden? Sort of part time in both til summer and fall  when you will have more trips out, switch in the late summer and fall to more garden work?” 

You nod, chewing the inside of your lip and thinking. You turn to Cee. “I know you're not too squeamish, which is good. You have an interest in medicine, though?” 

“I've always wanted to write, honestly. Not much use for it, though. So yeah, I can do medicine. I don't not have an interest,” she shrugs. 

“Fair enough. Although people like reading, still. People are still people, kid. Art is a necessity, even in an apocalypse. Write in your down time, maybe we’ll put your stuff on the library shelves,” you wink at her shy smile and turn to Ezra. 

“Come on, pothead. I’ll show you the shed.” 

Ezra laughs and levers himself up, still a little tilted at the hips. “I must riposte that moniker, soleil. I said I grew the weed, I never mentioned partaking.” 

Tommy waves you both off and disappears back outside to attend to whatever chore he has today. 

“Forgive my disbelief. You have always seemed like a man looking for any way to enjoy some creature comforts where you can find them.” 

He makes a face you haven't seen yet- a slow, easy grin edging on a smirk denting his cheek into a dimple. You're helpless but to roll your eyes with a barely-there huff and turn away, beckoning them both to follow. 

You lead Cee and Ezra back through the clinic to the back lot, wedged in a narrow alley between your strip and the one behind. There’s a long shed there, painted a flaking olive drab. You unlock it and throw both doors open, revealing a long workbench on one side under a window, covered in neatly organized stacks of mortar- and- pestles and rows of Mason jars filled with plain salve or clear carrier oils. Bundles of dried herbs hang from the entire ceiling and the other three walls. The shelves along the long wall are filled with jars of dried, sealed herbs and little pots of distillates, tinctures, and resins.

“This is quite the operation,” Ezra says appreciatively, eyeing the bundles and variation, the jars lining the walls and tables. He nods to himself and turns to you with a smirk. “I’m happy to lend a hand.” 

“The old lady who used to run the clinic with me was a bit of a chemistry nut. I got the feeling she cooked meth Before, honestly.” 

It surprises a laugh out of Ezra, his dark eyes sparking with it. It makes you smile, and you catch Cee looking every bit a teenager, like she's watching her parent be as embarrassing as possible and would love nothing more than to flee the scene. 

“Well. I gotta get back to my patient, I've left her in the exam room long enough. Come back Monday after you drop Cee at school and we can talk shop. I’ll see you on Saturdays only ‘til you're done with school, kiddo. Pay attention in science and math.” 

“Sure,” she smiles easily, and Ezra takes the bait. He saunters out of the shed and they wait for you to lock up before you go back in. They wave and amble off down the alley and you go back inside.

The girl has her abortion that day after Sam gets in to cover for your disappearance into the OR. You give her some solace in the decision. She's only sixteen. One of Ellie's classmates and friends. 

And it is, after all, the apocalypse. 

_______________

Yarrow. Dead nettle. Clover. Stinging nettle. Fiddlehead ferns. Wild asparagus! Mushrooms galore (though you test them very, very thoroughly). Dandelion out the ass. 

Ezra is certainly skilled at foraging. Skilled isn't strong enough a word for how he uncovers troves. Gifted, perhaps. Every time he comes back to you and the trio of horses, he’s got a newly- laden basket and a wide, smug grin. 

You make sure to gift him back all the smiles and conversation he can stand, which is apparently an endless amount. 

Every now and then you feel your escort Cam’s eyes on you from the edge of the lake some twenty yards away, fishing. Cam is Joel’s usual patrol partner because they're both brash, quiet assholes and no one else can stand being with them for a full shift. You're sure a running commentary will be belated on Joel’s next patrol rounds.

Joel as a whole subject nags at the back of your mind as you carefully saw off a veritable wall of oyster mushrooms on a fallen log. He had gotten spooked again, either by someone in town or his own built up walls, and you've been relegated back to stiff nods and barely- there glances, the shadow of him hiding behind his windows instead of escorting you through town when your shifts line up. 

It chafes against all the easy smiles and conversation and escorting back and forth from your mutual street and the clinic that Ezra gives you these days. All the attention and kinship. 

Part of you thinks that the most-recent wedge Joel drove between you and him is because of Ezra. Because of whatever that patrolman said that got under Joel’s skin. You know he harbors doubts about being enough, a lot of the time. Enough for Ellie, for his brother. Not being enough for his daughter Sarah, who he lost on outbreak day. Because after he declined to share your bed the day you escorted Ezra home was one of the last times you’ve seen him in the flesh, let alone held a full conversation with him. 

Ellie still walks home with you plenty, but like any kid she’s absorbed in her own world. Which is good, you don't need or want to drag her into yours. You talk to Ezra and she talks to Cee, and you split at the road between your houses, and you divide again at the fence line. Sometimes he’s a shadow in the window, and sometimes she pauses to use her key to get inside. 

The next day is the same; meet Ezra on the road and walk to the clinic, sometimes he leaves you there with a wink and heads for the nursery and sometimes he goes through the clinic with you and exits out to the shed and meets you back in the hallway for meals. You both walk home with the girls and split at the road. Day in, day out. 

One day he asked you to come over for dinner. 

“Anytime, not- not now, if it’s not convenient. You know best where to find us,” he smiles, and ducks his head and meanders off. 

You blink down at the bed of dandelion you’re uprooting and suddenly he’s back in front of you with a fresh basket dangling from the loose curl of his fingers down by his thigh, watching you curiously. “Where did you fly off to, sol- chérie?” his curls float softly on the wind, that white tuft flashing, softly framing his deep, round eyes. 

You huff a laugh at yourself and shake your head. He’s managed to find a few fat morels and another bundle of purplish- tipped asparagus. 

“Dinner,” you say, and smile up at him, The sun frames a halo round his head and he grins, the brightness of his simple anticipation overtaking the sun itself. 

“Were you, now?” 

“I was,” you reply. He sets down his basket and offers you a hand up. You take it, and stand. 

“I would like that.” 

In lieu of answering, you dump your basket of dandelion flowers and greens into a satchel and stand. “I’ll see if Cam hasn’t caught a fish or two, since he's over here being a useless guard,” you tease loudly, earning the lazy ire of your gunman and escort. “Keep foraging?” 

Ezra nods, squinting at you in the bright spring sun, and flashes that dimple. 

Hours later, when the sun is setting and you’re riding  the Whiskey and Rye back, closely followed by your gunman on his mount, Snickers, their saddlebags laden with tightly-bound bunches of herbs and a satchel of fish, Ezra pipes up. 

“You can tell me it's none of my business, soleil. But what is the deal with you and your neighbor? I don't want to go crossing any boundaries,” he clarifies at your frown. You scowl at the back of Cam’s head and clear your throat. 

“Nothing. Used to be, I guess. If you could call it that. ‘f you could call it anything. But he’s riddled with trauma, like most of us. And he stepped back. So, nothing,” you shrug. “No boundaries to cross, far as I'm concerned.” 

Ezra is quiet for a stretch, pondering. You squint back at him, swaying along with Whiskey’s steps, and smirk. “I’m not hurt by it. He’s never been easy, and we had an understanding. An arrangement, more than anything. And he’s drawn back. It's not like we divorced and he kept the kid,” you snort. “I promise. I don't even owe alimony or anything.” 

That finally draws a chuckle from Ezra, and you grin back at him, feeling like you won something. “Don't get a complex about it. And don't be afraid of him. He just looks tough. Big old baby, if you ask me.” You smirk when you see Cam’s shoulders shake with a silent laugh. 

Ezra shakes his head and cocks a brow in your direction. “I am sure he is to you, soleil. Many men are prone to mirroring such domestic softness when presented with it. I have no doubt you were a gentle landing, while it lasted. From what I've heard from the women at the nursery and the men at the mess hall, he cuts quite the ah- intimidating figure across town. But alright. I won’t ask again, unless it seems relevant.” 

You roll your eyes. “I’m probably the only person here aside from Tommy who’s never actually been afraid of him.” 

“Had him made from the start, did you?” Ezra chuckles. “I would not be surprised.” 

“Hard not to when he and Ellie showed back up the second time half dead and barely speaking to one another. I had them both on IVs for days, regular checkups, like I did with you. One thing led to another, et cetera.” 

Ezra hums and is quiet for a stretch. “His girl and Cee are getting on like a house fire.” 

“Ellie. She’s a good kid. She’s gay as the trees and smart as anything. What about Cee?” You cut him a gimlet eye and Ezra throws his head back with a laugh. 

“Heaven above, soleil, I have wondered, a-haha! Maybe.” He shrugs. “She hasn’t said, but I do hope she knows I wouldn't care for her any less either way. I have long been somewhat ambivalent regarding the gender of my own partners, when I have such pleasures in this life, so I can’t see why she would hide anything from me.” 

“You’ll find out soon enough, whether she sneaks off with Ellie or starts bringing a boy ‘round.” 

“I imagine, based on getting to know her– in captivity of course, and then now outside of it– that Cee will do no such thing. I believe when she finds a partner, she’ll be all about sneaking off with them, not luring them home. Either way, as long as she is safe, I can’t say much.” 

He grips the reins in his fist and shifts his weight to glance back at you just a foot or two behind. Not having much to say to that, you offer a friendly smile, which he returns. 

“So what shall I prep for dinner, soleil? We’ve got a good handful of trout in our friend’s bag, and greens for days. The grocer should have potatoes from the nursery by now? I dug some up two days ago.” 

“Definitely the asparagus. That’s the highlight of the day’s finds for me.” 

Ezra hums and agrees. “I do have to admit, the buggers are hard enough to find that it feels like a veritable goldmine when you find a patch.” 

The gate crew let you in and you ride the horses to the stable, making sure they got a treat each for their trouble. Cam makes himself scarce with the wall crew, and you squash the immediate feeling that the gossip has already begun. After offloading the herbs into the shack for the next week’s work, you and Ezra deposited most of the edible forage and fish at the mess hall and started the trek to Rancher Street. 

You split at your front gate, accepting Ezra’s offer to come over after cleaning up. 

“Gimme an hour,” you say with a smile, and he nods with one of his own, dropping a kiss on your knuckles. You roll your eyes with a snort of laughter and watch him go across to his own house, swinging the basket with what’s left of your finds. 

When you turn to go up your own steps, you miss the stir of the curtain in Joel’s front window. 

_______________

“The hell’s wrong with you?” Tommy asks, thunking down a condensating glass with two fingers of whiskey rimming the bottom. Joel scowls at him and takes up the glass, swirling it instead of drinking. 

“Don't know what–” 

“You damn well do. You were doin’ real good here for a long time, ‘n now you're back to being a cranky old asshole constantly, snapping at the patrolmen and eating barely anything and bein’ a fucking hermit. What happened?” Tommy drops onto a stool across the table at the Tipsy Bison and props his elbows on it. 

“Is it Ellie?” 

Joel rolls his eyes in lieu of answering. Tommy just frowns. 

“Is it Sunny?” 

“Why in the fuck would it be her?” 

Tommy scoffs and shakes his head. “Brother, you’d have to be blind or dumb to not see that you two had been fucking for a while. You break up with her?” 

A muscle rolls along Joel’s jaw as he presses his molars together. He takes a sip of his drink and frowns. “There was nothing to break up.” 

In answer, Tommy gives him an unimpressed look. “So let me lay this out. You and your curmudgeonly old ass managed to get genuinely the nicest person in town into a friends- with- benefits situation, then dumped her, and still have the audacity to be an ass about it? While she’s out here keeping the town afloat and healthy every day like it’s all fine?”  

“Tommy–” 

“Did she dump you?” 

“Tommy! I–” 

“You know big brother. Sometimes I have to wonder how you turned out quite this damned mean. If anyone deserves the ass- end of your temper, it sure as shit ain't your kid or Sunny, of all people.” He dumps the rest of his drink into Joel’s glass and moves like he’s going to get up. “How long ‘til you’re begging for her back?” 

Joel stares at him for a long moment before his shoulders slump in defeat. 

“Probably not long.” 

Tommy nods, snorting a noiseless, mirthless laugh. They're quiet for a long minute, and then: “She’s with the new guy now. I think. Went to his after they were outside the walls all day.” 

Tommy arches a brow and hums. “Ezra’s nice. Don’t know much about him other than he’s sweet on her and good to his kid, works hard at the nursery and the herb shed. Maybe she’ll give it a go, decide that being a side piece for some old man dick isn’t her style after all.” 

He laughs at the flat, dark look Joel gives him. 

“If he's better for her, and she wants him, she should stay with him. I dont- I don't know if I could let another one in, Tommy.” 

Tommy nods, finding the conversation unfortunately familiar. He heard something similar the first time Joel showed up in Jackson. It was just as heartbreaking then. “I think you should have learned by now to stop making your girls’ decisions for them, first of all. Secondly, what if she wants you both?” 

Joel frowns like it's the wildest thing he's ever heard. 

“I mean it. It suits your need to have that stupid- ass self-serving boundary up around your heart. And she gets the domesticity and affection she probably wants from him. Everyone gets laid and gets what they need. Might not be the worst idea.”

In answer, Joel just scoffs and downs his drink. “Maybe.” 

“You best get to crawlin’ then, brother.” 

_______________

Dinner was delicious. 

Despite losing a hand and spending years as a grunt on rations, Ezra's bred-in southern skills in the kitchen had not waned a bit. He had Cee help him clean and filet the fish, which he pan-fried in a bit of oil and herb. (She had rolled her eyes and, after asking if he needed any more help for his date, made herself scarce. If he noticed the door across the street slam and a little brown head bobbing along by her golden one, he didn't mention it to anyone, after).

He roasted a handful of small potatoes and carefully blanched and roasted the asparagus. By the time he saw you walking across the road in a clean outfit, your hair coiffed and face fresh, he was turning off the elements and washing up. 

You ate, and talked. Mostly about Before, but some about after. Friends you’d each made and lost, family that hadn't made it, or if they had, were still far off. 

Ezra was from honest- to- goodness Cajun country. He had grown up trilingual in Acadia, Louisiana with a rooted Cajun father and Chilean immigrant mother. He was well- read and had been a freshly-graduated geologist working his first job with the national parks service in Yellowstone before the outbreak. 

With no way to reach his family clear across the country, he’d stayed on in Wyoming. He eventually went with his ever-shrinking work group across to Bozeman’s QZ with the intent of continuing southeast on one of the work transfer convoys between QZs. A few had died from infection or raider attacks on the way to Bozeman, and the rest is history. 

“A geologist. I bet they liked you in the mines in Bozeman, then, eh?” You asked, and his answering smile was only a little brittle at the edges. 

“They did, which was not to my benefit, mind you. Even though my education and training was primarily regarding the dating of prehistoric stratum and lava flows, I was good at finding the ore the slavers wanted, even the little threads. They never would have let me go, you see? So I had to find a way out– for her. Even if it was the last thing I did. She had no one left to help her.”  

“Awfully loyal of you,” you comment, resettling your weight in your seat beside him on the sofa. Ezra hums. 

“Maybe. But when one has naught left to live for, what's a spare bit of loyalty for a friend. Especially to save them?” he basks in your soft, slow smile. 

“Besides, she saved me, too. I forfeited myself to those smugglers, knowing full well I'd die, slowly and terribly, only hoping she’d run. She didn't, tough little thing. She just hid and shot ‘em when they were focused on trying to hold me down and hack my damned arm off. And then dragged my unconscious person for days to find help. What little I did to get us outside those walls wasn’t all that effort, really.” 

“Ezra. It’s okay to be grateful to a child. You saved one another from a truly terrible ordeal, and now you’re safe.” 

He hums and swirls the now-cool herbal tea he has cupped against his chest. You’re both at odd ends of his couch, knees up on the seat and facing one another. The sun is finally going down outside, nearing full spring now, with longer, hotter days looming. 

“Soleil,” he says, and sets his mug on the upturned crate in front of the sofa, acting as a coffee table. “Allow me to press my luck a bit. If you are free to do so, and interested, I would very much like to kiss you. Or- or simply hold you, if that is not too impertinent a request.” 

You can’t help the smile that stretches your cheeks to almost hurting as you copy him and set your own mug on the table. “Just one?” You tease, sliding forward on your knees until you’re on your right hip, knees against the back of the couch, your whole front leaning into his. It opens his left side up to hook his arm around you, his armless right side against the couch backing. 

You’d give anything to get a picture of his face right this second, as you lean in, to keep forever. His dark eyes drop wide, soaking you in, and he leans down to carefully put his face in your path, still asking. In answer, you tip your chin up and let your lips meet in a chaste press, only the tiniest bit wet in the center. 

“I may– need more than one, soleil,” he admits, and you huff a laugh. “Will you– mmff,” you cut him off by pulling his chin back toward you, opening up and letting him finally lick inside. 

You both taste like tea and it’s warm and wet, something terribly soft and domestic that you haven't had in years. That you hadn't even remembered wanting in years. 

The angle is awkward and both too far away and yet a link is developing in your neck from curving it. Ezra’s arm clutches you to him, his hand tight on your side and other shoulder moving, wanting desperately to pull you even closer, it seems. In response, you get onto your knees above him and pull away. 

“Can I?” You ask, indicating a straddle, and his eyes blow wide, a pink tongue appearing to wet his lips. 

“Christ, yes,” he pants, and you can't help another pleased smile as you throw your leg over his lap and settle down on his thighs. “You’ll tell me, soleil, chérie, if I get too ah– handsy. It has been. Years, actually, since I've been on the receiving end of such compassion.” 

“Ezra,” you say firmly, tipping his face up to yours with a hand in his hair. Your other hand cups his chin, ticks a thumb over the silver half moon scar under his eye. “I will. Shut up and kiss me.” 

“Ouais, soleil,” he mutters against your tongue, laving his own against it before sucking your bottom lip between his teeth to scrape it. 

Long minutes pass, your hands in his curls, steering him and pulling back to tease with little sips against his panting mouth. His hand grips your ass a scant second before he hauls you closer, grinding you properly against his hardness. 

“You are teasing me, radieux. Tell me if–” 

“I said I would. Same goes. Where’s Cee, since we’re on the damn couch, like a couple of teenagers?” You ask, licking your own puffy, tender lips as you reach between you, deftly sliding your fingers behind the button of his jeans. You feel his belly hitch, as if ticklish, and snap your gaze back up to his. 

“I’m not exactly sure. She went out with Ellie. But she’s usually back by dark.” 

You both glance out the window to see it’s getting dim, the skuly going grey and orange and pink. “I have to stay at my house,” you say, accepting another kiss as Ezra sways back into you. He frowns, his brow furrowing against your lips, but lets you go easy as anything. You snort a laugh and push back, taking your fingers out of his jeans. 

He frowns harder, pouting up at you. 

“I’m the only doctor, sweet boy. And we don't have phones. They gotta know where to find me, if I'm needed overnight.” 

“Ah, that’s alright,” he says, and manages to look only a little put out. 

It makes you giggle again, a breathy thing that doesn't dampen your smile at all. You curl your fingers in the scruff under his chin and tip his face up again, against the backing of the sofa, and lean your chest against his. Ezra licks his lips furtively and swallows against your knuckles, relaxing back into the sofa as you press all up against him. His hand latches around your hip, holding you close. 

“No one said you couldn't come to mine, though. Leave a note for Cee? Will she be okay?” 

“Ah– I'd hate to spring it on her the first time, her just come back to an empty house and a note. She’s still a little jumpy. She’ll be here soon though, and I'll ask how she feels. If you want,” he adds, unsure if the moment has passed. He’s hard as a rock under you but you’re still in your jeans; he can’t tell if you're slick already or not. 

He wants to think so. 

You slide off his lap but stay close, allowing him to keep one leg stretched across his knees while you trade more questions and stories. 

Ezra is spinning a tale about his cousin’s shrimping boat and a massive boil his whole family had done after. The phrase shrimps as big as a baby’s arm is bandied about, and then there is a clatter of boots on the porch. 

Cee flings open the door, with Ellie on her heels. They're both grinning ear to ear and giggling but freeze when they spot you both on the sofa. 

“Oh, hey.” 

Ezra raises a brow and smirks. “Hey yourself.” He hangs his head to the side to peek around her. “Hello, Ellie.” 

She waves. Cee frowns at you and Ezra. “We figured you’d be uh. Upstairs. Or out.” 

Ezra and you both snort at her awkward hint. “As a matter of fact I was waiting on you. Didn't want to hike off and leave you alone, overnight, without warning. I assume that's not an imposition, then?” He leans his head to the side and peers at Ellie. “Your dad say you could stay?” 

“He’s not–” she gets cut off by both your sharp frown and Cee’s excited interruption.

“Joel said I could stay there, actually. I was coming to get some sleep clothes.” 

“Ah.” Ezra turns and glances at you, and you shrug. 

“Alright. Well I'll be across the road if you need me. At Sunny’s,” he clarifies. “So I guess next door to you.” 

Ellie isn't fazed but Cee makes a face and makes for the stairs to go up to her room. “Gross. See you tomorrow, then?” 

Ezra chuckles. “You better get to school on time tomorrow. Other than that, you two have fun,” he smiles at her exaggerated eyeroll and winks at Ellie when the girls clop noisily up the stairs. 

By the time they clatter back down with a stuffed backpack and matching grins and giggles, you're waiting by the door while Ezra waters his sprouting seeds on the patio out back. 

“Be safe,” Ellie teases, ducking your harmless swipe. 

“Same goes,” you tease, making a two-finger V in front of your mouth and giving her a salacious wink. Predictably, she turns beet red and scowls at you. Cee is busy tying her boots, thankfully oblivious to your gesture. By the time she's upright, Ellie has schooled her face and painted on her usual careless smirk, despite the pink dusting her cheeks. 

“Have a good night, girls. See you tomorrow after school, Cee,” you wave them off. They hop off the last step of the porch just as Ezra comes back inside. He washes his hand and dries it, shoves his feet into his boots, tucks his keys into the pocket of his backpack, and lofts an eyebrow at you. 

“Ready, soleil?” he slings his bag over his empty shoulder and laces his arm through the other strap. 

It’s hard not to think of Joel while you're escorting another man to your house with every intention of sleeping with him. The fact that Joel is next door playing parent with the girls, including the ward of the man you're taking home to fuck, quite possibly peeking out of the curtains watching them (or you) walk across... You have to wonder if he's letting Cee stay because of Ellie, or because it gives him an easy excuse to keep hiding from you. 

What if he sees you letting Ezra in? Or catches you both leaving for the clinic in the morning? 

Does it fucking matter? When he's the one who stepped back, and left you hanging? 

Should it? 

Ezra interrupts your thoughts by catching your hand and holding it gently, tucking your fingers between his in a light squeeze with an easy smile. 

Your heart thuds, delighted, and you squeeze back. 

_______________

The second you close and lock your front door, Ezra's mouth is on you. He drops his bag and kicks his boots into the tray beside yours, pressing you slow and easy into the wall by the coat hooks, his hand curled protectively behind your head. You laugh into the kiss, feeling ridiculous and joyful. 

He isn't pushy, or demanding. Not that you mind those things at all, with the right person delivering them to you. 

Instead, Ezra tucks his fingers under your chin and tips you up, and sups a sweet, lingering kiss from your mouth. With his chest and belly keeping you upright between his long, lean weight and the wall, your knees soften and he is there, holding onto you with a low chuckle. 

“How about you show me the way to your room, soleil, and I'll keep makin’ those knees weak. Once you don't need ‘em, of course.” 

You snort and finish taking off your outerwear, leaving your keys hanging on the designated hook. You check the back door and leave a low light on in the kitchen, leading him up to your room. 

Your house is the strange little cottage on your road, one of the oldest in town and obvious for that fact. It's an old A-frame with an abutment built at the edge of what would have been a forest before the land was cleared and developed decades past. The bottom level is a large open den and kitchen with a full bath tucked under the stairs and a small spare room to the other side. Up a narrow set of stairs, the loft is an open bedroom, where you prefer to sleep so you can hear everything in the house. If someone comes banging, asking for your care, you’ll hear it. 

You lead Ezra to the stairs and push him up ahead of you. “I’m gonna use the bathroom, one sec. Go get comfy,” you say, and dash under the stairs to the doorway. You scrub your teeth and hands and run a wet rag over your bits and pits, hoping for the best. 

If he didn't care about your breath or scent an hour ago, he won't now, you reason, and go back out to climb the stairs. 

Upstairs is a large flat space, taking up half the room below it. There’s a toilet in a closet up here but no bath. Your bed and a dresser is up here, along with an old mirror and your chest of spare blankets. Your bed is soft and big enough for two. Ezra is stretched across it, above the blankets and still dressed. 

“I wasn't entirely sure of your intentions, soleil. I want you to be explicit in your demands, and also to be aware that I do intend to court you beyond anything that happens tonight. If you don't want that, you best tell me now before I find myself acting the fool.” 

“Ezra, shut up,” you giggle, pulling off your socks and undoing your jeans, leaving them open on your hips. “You are free to court me, you old rake.” He grins at your playful insult. “I don't mind casual. But I like you. And I think I'd like more, if you do, too. Sounds like it,” you shrug, and he nods fervently. 

“I do, chérie. Any night I can sleep by you, hold you, would be a night well spent. And any day workin’ alongside you, or catching lunch at the mess hall. Or being out foraging,” he smiles wide and soft, his dark eyes fathomless pools. “Come here, please. Let me love you.” 

You shuck your clothes and crawl onto him, letting Ezra claim your mouth while you work on his jeans and push them down his hips. He lifts them obligingly, kicking out of the garment once you get it to his knees. He tips upward and lets you pull his shirt up and off, leaving you both blessedly naked. 

“Anything you don't want?” You ask against his mouth, already panting. Your slick has to be soaking his thigh by now from rutting, from how wet you've been since he’d asked to kiss you so sweetly. 

“I’ll take anything you want to give,” he sighs, his hand ghosting up the curve of your ribs, marveling at your soft skin. He thumbs an errant scar here and there, evidence of life outside these walls, and kisses you again. “I want to taste you,” he says, pulling on your hip. You start to roll off so he can spread you on your back, but he tightens his grip. 

“Sit on my face, soleil. I want to use my hand, and I won't be able to if I have to use it for balance.” 

“Ezra,” you chastise, thinking of your weight and the mangled state of his face the day you met him, months ago now. His nose should be healed, you think fleetingly. He chases the thought away with another wicked kiss and tugs on you again. 

“Come on, I would like nothing more than to be smothered in you, soleil.” He nips playfully at the inside of your knee as you give in and crawl upward with the urging of his hand on your hip. 

With your knees bracketing his head and your feet tucked around his shoulders, Ezra urges your weight down. You had done this before, but it had been a long time. Joel preferred to have you against a wall, your legs over his shoulders, or under him, spread out and boneless. 

Ezra wants to make it clear that he’s there to service you, in the most efficient way possible for him to do so while missing a major limb. You on top, controlling the pace and hopefully still going boneless enough to properly sit on him (if he can weaken your knees enough) that's what he wants. Suffocate him, he won't complain with a single syllable. 

Ezra nuzzles into you, spreading your lips with his sharp nose gliding smoothly through your slick folds, his flattened tongue following to lap your honey up. He laves against your clit and sucks on it firmly before moving back down. You gaps, rocking your hips for more, giving in to his demanding hand on your hip. He pulls you down further so he doesn't have to reach. 

He spears his tongue up into you, drawing more slick out to spread it around, encouraging you to thrust against his nose and chin. The scruff of his cheeks tickles your thighs, his mustache zinging little bursts of pleasure when you rub your clit over his open mouth. 

“Oh, fuck– Ezra, I want you in me. Too empty,” you whine, clenching around nothing. He obliges with a groan, sliding his tongue back into you and bringing his hand up.

“Come back a bit, soleil. Let me suck you while you ride my hand,” he grits, impaling you with his two middle fingers, curling them with devastating agility against that spongy spot inside. In the next breath he sucks your clit between his lips, kneading it and then rubbing his tongue along the tender pearl inside until you're throbbing. You’ve got a hand fisted in his hair before you know it, your panting sounding far too loud in the loft.

Slick paints his cheeks and chin, threatening to drip down the curve of his neck as he works you. Ezra’s own stiff arousal is neglected, bobbing in the cool air as his hips stutter helplessly upward. He notices you turning to wrap a hand around him and makes a loud slurp as he detaches from your mound. 

“Leave it, chérie. I want you to focus on feeling this right now, I want you to come, then you can do whatever you like. Come, now,” he demands, pulling you back to him. You curl your nails back in his fringe and buck on his fingers as he slides them back into you, three this time– pressing deeper and curling more firmly. He laps at your clit with the flat of his tongue, worrying it like a lolly. 

Abruptly, with a strangled cry, you shatter around his digits. 

“So good, chérie, give me all that cream. Squeezing me so tight, oh–” Ezra gives you a final lick, murmuring praise against your mound until you sit back and crawl down between his knees. 

“Gonna suck you,” you gasp, still shivering back into your skin. 

There’s nothing for it- Ezra’s got a stupidly beautiful package. It matches the stupidly cute look of shock and adoration on his face. 

His cock is the perfect weight on your tongue, a nice handful, girthy and perhaps seven or eight inches. The ruddy, pinkish brown foreskin cups his ccokhead tightly, offering a smooth glide as you tug on his length a few times and press a kiss to his weeping tip. 

“Oh shit. Oh, please soleil. I won't last a minute. I’m far too- worked up!” He chokes, hips stuttering when you lick up the rib on the underside. 

“How long has it been, Ezra?” You ask, your voice like smoke. He blinks at the skylight above your bed, trying to think. 

“I– years? Probably– oh shit. Probably two years?” 

Instead of responding, you suck him down expertly and squeeze your tonsils around his tip. A desperate groan presses up out of his chest, his hand scrabbling in the sheets. You catch his wrist and bring it to your head, letting him hold on. 

A little clumsily, he twines his fingers in your hair, not pulling intentionally but keeping you close. You bury your nose in the base of him, swallowing, and he groans, thighs flexing as he fights not to buck up and choke you. 

“Oh, christ– soleil you– you’re so good. Oh, fuck!” 

You pull off him and stroke a few times, teasing the weeping tip with your tongue and lips while he writhes, panting praise and gasping. It makes you feel surprisingly powerful, reducing a man to this, and you relish in it. A few more strokes of your tongue, a bit more suction and he's begging, asking you to pull off if you don't want it in your mouth. In answer, you press your nose into his pubic hair and swallow, taking him whole as he pulses on your tongue. 

After, when he’s boneless and well- sated on your bed, you lay on his shoulder and twirl your fingertips through his sparse chest hair. You finally ask: 

“Two years since you had a blowjob?” 

Ezra chuckles sleepily, scrubbing his hand down his face and dropping it back to drape over your side. “I don’t think you understand exactly what kind of mess  I'm coming from, chérie. The fact my dick is still even attached is a miracle after what those smugglers did to me. Wasn't much chance for using it in the mines, either. They worked us twelve or eighteen hours most days, and I slept in the shafts half the time. There was an inherent lack of desire, to be honest. That level of terror and anxiety, day in and day out, it takes its toll. All that aside from the fact that the girls in the brothel were practically children, and often far from willing. I had a - friend, I suppose, and we found some mutual stress relief in one another. When they died in a shaft collapse, I didn't expend the effort to replace them.” 

You're quiet for a long moment, petting and relaxing. It doesn't feel right to apologize; he’ll just brush it off as pity, which doesn't fit right. You roll away a bit, urging him to face you so you can trace his eyebrows, stroke down the hook of his nose and the pillow of his bottom lip. He’s practically in a trance by the time you speak up,pulled by your softness. “I’m glad you got out, and are here, Ezra,” you decide on. 

It appears to be the right thing to say. He rolls onto you and smothers you with kisses until you have to break away for air. “I am overjoyed, soleil. Sometimes– most of the time, it doesn't seem real. Like I must have died, and this is some sort of shockingly- pleasant afterlife. Or that I finally submitted to the psychosis of my prior imprisonment.” He buries his face in between your breasts and lays on you, listening to your heartbeat under his ear as it slowly calms. You card your fingers through his hair, petting gently until he’s snoring. It only takes a few minutes, which makes you huff a laugh, trying not to wake him. 

You too doze off under his comfortable weight, waking in the night to pee and crawling back under the coverlet against him. He stirs a few times, curling against you and dragging you close. 

When you wake, it’s fully bright out, late morning, and pleasantly cool in the house. Ezra is spooned up behind you, his arm curled under your neck and wrapped around your front, your hips nested and  legs entwined. 

It's almost unbearably comfortable, and you want to stay here all day instead of getting up and preparing for a day at the clinic. You lay silently for several minutes, basking in the warmth of the body pressed up behind you, the press of his lean belly, soft with sleep, against your lower back and the thighs nested under your rump. 

Too soon, your bladder makes you aware of the need to get up. You groan under your breath, unwilling to move at all but already loosening Ezra’s arm from your ribs. He inhales sharply, half sitting in a daze and blinking around the room. 

“Hey, you’re okay. I have to pee and get ready,” you say quietly, petting the white tuft at his temple. He nuzzles into your hand and then exhales heavily, flopping back to the bed. 

Ezra yawns hugely, stretching his whole long body out and then sprawling in a lazy spool of limbs, shamelessly nude and adorably mussed. “Want company?” He husks, voice still claggy with sleep. 

You snort, dropping a kiss on his scruffy chin. “If you want.” 

You pad downstairs to the bathroom and start the water, letting it warm while you pee. When you step into the tub, you hear the stairs above you creak, indicating that Ezra is following. A moment later, you hear him going through his own ablutions before a tickly kiss is dropped onto your shoulder. 

After doing your own, you reach up and behind your own head to scrub lather into his short curls, scritching over his scalp, and soak up all the skin pressed against yours under the warm spray. 

In less than an hour, it's back to reality. But for now, it's wonderful. 

_______________

A week later, after a few more nights of similar exploration and pleasant sleep, there is a knock on your door just as you're finishing cooking dinner. Ezra is sat at your island, laughing through a retelling of Cee’s school drama this week (the laughter is in empathy - she had been asked out by a notoriously misogynistic boy in the class above hers and had been appalled). He jumps up to get the door while you plate, hoping it's not the clinic but getting it is. 

“Yeah I'll grab her. Come in? Soleil!” Ezra calls, coming back past the narrow half- wall separating the den and kitchen. “It’s Joel.” 

“Oh,” you say, frowning. “Okay. Go ahead and eat,” you push a plate of seared cabbage and beans drizzled in sauce at him and drop a kiss on his cheekbone. He wraps his fingers around your wrist in thanks, soft as a breeze, and smiles at you. 

As you turn to go meet Joel, Ezra's thumb strokes the back of your hand before he lets it drop, letting you go to create some privacy for what is likely about to be a tense conversation. 

Joel is leaning by your mantle, cross-armed and looking utterly exhausted when you come into your den. 

“Hey,” you say, stopping in front of him.

“Hey,” he parrots, frowning harder, like he’s ready to turn tail at the slightest hint you want him gone. 

“Do you need something?” You ask. It's like pulling teeth getting the man to talk sometimes. 

“I need to talk to you. Do you wanna go to the porch, or do you want me to come by, ‘nother time?” you don't miss his furtive glance toward the kitchen, mostly hidden by a blink. 

You swallow, looking up at him. “I’ll overthink it if we don’t do it now.” 

Joel nods in understanding. “Lead on, hon.” 

You usher him into your spare room, which is sparsely set basically the way Tommy and Maria had left it some years ago when you’d arrived. He stands in the middle of it, glaring at the four walls and the unmade single bed and empty, open chest, while you shut the door and turn to face him. You hope furiously that you're not blushing too hard. 

God, how in the fuck did you forget how hot he is? How much space he takes up; the presence? 

“What did you want to–” 

“I miss you,” Joel interrupts, barely saying the words in a low, quiet, but firm tone. You blink at him, trying to digest it. 

“I’m–” 

“I know you’re— look, let me say what I gotta say, or it ain’t gonna come out. I know you're with the new guy. Ezra. He’s probably more… More what you're lookin’ for in a lot of ways. But darlin’, I. I know I’ve not done a lot of good in the last twenty years. But you make me feel like I could. Like I want to. And I haven't had that, except for you and Ellie, not since Outbreak Day. And she’s moving on. I’m losing her. I’m going to. And I pushed you away because I don't want to lose you, too. And I bet you saw that comin’ a mile away- you always do. Because you're so damned smart, and good. I know you're with him. But I wanted to know if– if you wanted to try bein’ with us both?” 

You stay quiet, knowing he's not done, but you can't help your eyebrows hitting the ceiling on that one. Possessive, protective Joel Miller…. open to sharing? 

“I know how it sounds. But I know you love me. I know it. And I hate breakin’ your heart when I hole up into myself. But I can't help it sometimes. I’m tryin’, though. You an’ Ellie are making me try. If you had us both, you could have the softness he gives, the- the home life that I can’t - can’t handle, even if I want to, for you. And with me, you get– whatever it is you see in me.” 

He nods at you, seemingly done and looking for all the world like he’s waiting for the sword of Damocles to fall swiftly. 

“What about Ezra?” You ask, deciding to see how much Joel has even thought about this harebrained scheme. 

“We’d… Ellie called it a poly-cule? Sometimes you're with me, sometimes you're with him, or alone. We just– share, but have our own spaces? And I'll work on my problems. I will.” He insists at your arched brow. 

“But I think being with you steady and having a settled deal so I won't- can’t back out without a fight is going to help. Because sweetheart, you been too good to me. You let me go, every time. And I'm grateful for that, because I think I would’a been real mean if you hadn’t, and you don't deserve that, but it hurts. And I know it hurts you, which makes it worse.” 

“And what if I wanted to have a threesome? Or if he wanted to kiss you?” You keep your face carefully devoid of emotion while you feel for the cracks in those infamous emotional walls. 

“I don’t. Uh. My gut immediately said no, but truthfully, hon. I might. but– only if you're there. I don’t – don't have any interest, there, not like that.” 

You're quiet for a minute and nod, chewing your lip. “Is it my turn to go?” 

“Yeah. Go on.” 

“I do miss you. A lot. I think about you all the time. And I'm sure Cam has been filling your ears with all kinds of nonsense about our foraging trips. But I like Ezra. A lot. He's sweet, and goofy, and easy. I’ll talk to him. He may be more interested than you’re giving him credit for.” 

Joel nods, his jaw working, staring somewhere around your knees. “Alright.” 

“But,” you start, stepping closer, and then again when he straightens and blinks up at your face. “What this isn't going to be is an excuse to run off with your tail between your legs every time someone notes that we’re together. It's not an excuse to fuck me behind his back or cut him out when it's convenient for you. We talk, we negotiate and we’re open, or we don't even try it. Can you do that?” 

Looking surprisingly chastened, Joel nods. 

“Alright. Go eat and get some sleep, you look half dead. Want some of what we have? I can make up a container.” 

“Nah, Ellie’s note on the door said she cooked an’ left me some. Thanks,” he adds, feeling abruptly very awkward. He’d like to go pretend this conversation never happened for a day or two, but that's exactly what you’re getting at. 

“Alright. Come on,” you open the door and lead him back to the front, only a little surprised to not see Ezra lurking about, trying to overhear. You hear him clinking about in the kitchen. 

Joel stops on the porch, looking back at you. His fingertips rub against the pad of his thumb, an anxious tell. You raise an eyebrow, waiting. “Can I– uh.” 

“I'm not gonna kiss you ‘til I talk to him, Miller,” you tease, giving him a smile. He huffs and shuffles his feet. 

“No, I was going to ask for a hug. You always. You give good hugs,” he mutters, seeming annoyed with the fact. You snort at him and step out onto the porch, letting him fold you into a hug that arches you backwards with the weight of it. 

“Oof,” you exhale into his flannel, and wrap your arms around his ribs. He squeezes you to him firmly, once, and lets go. 

“Thanks, uhm. Go talk to him. You know where to find me.” 

“Alright,” you say, and watch him clop down the stairs and around the fence into his own yard. 

You go back inside to find Ezra still sitting at the island, pushing his food around with a fork. He straightens when he sees you, trying to appear poker- faced and failing miserably. He’s anxious as fuck. 

“Anything to report, soleil?” He asks quietly. You smile at him and huff a disparaging laugh. 

“Yeah, actually.” You scarf down the last few bites of your food and take up the plates, putting them in the sink. When you turn around and lean on the counter, his eyes are dark, watching you carefully. 

“Come on, chérie. It’s time to gut the fencer. Lay it on me.”

“He, uhm. He wants to know if we are interested in an open relationship. Like a poly situation.” 

Ezra sits straight and blinks at you, baffled. “The man purported around town to be so possessive of you that he broke a man’s nose for flirting with you at the bar…. Wants to have a sharing arrangement?” 

You can't help but chuckle. He's not wrong. “I’m just as shocked as you are. He said it was Tommy’s idea. Maybe I should go ask him what on earth he said to convince Joel it was a decent idea.” 

“How do you feel about it?” Ezra asks, his furrowed brow smoothing out. 

You shrug and shake your head. “I don't know. I don't want either of you to get upset enough to leave for good. I like you, baby. A lot. And yeah, I miss him, but being with you has helped, made it go away for the most part. But when he is around it's like salt in a wound. Maybe this would help, but I'm not willing to lose you over it. How do you feel about it?” 

“I would be lying if I said I wasn't a bit covetous of you. But I have been in such relationships before, chérie. Communication is key. And from what I understand, your old man isn’t the best at that. But I am happy to properly meet him and discuss this if you wish.” 

And he does, quicker than you expected. You wake up alone and walk to the clinic alone the next day, your brow furrowed in confusion until you round the corner onto the main street and see Ezra leaning against the porch of the clinic, talking to Joel. You assume that Ezra had simply woken and waited for the girls to come out of Joel’s house, and then struck up a conversation and followed Joel as he escorted the girls to school. With no teens to be seen and a massive rifle hanging off Joel’s shoulder for rounds, that is the most likely story. Your sweet- talking, loquacious partner is certainly bending Joel’s ear, by the look of it. 

“Hey,” you say, stopping a few feet away. Ezra squints at you in the bright morning sun and grins. 

“Good morning, soleil. Apologies for leavin’ you to wake up cold; I saw my opportunity and struck after it.” 

Their conversation must have been decent. Joel barely even rolls his eyes at Ezra’s explanation. You can't help the amused huff that escapes you. “Mornin’ to you too, grump.” You wink at Joel and he harrumphs at you. 

“G’mornin’ hon.” 

“You got patrol today?” 

“Mmm,” he nods, adjusting the hang of the gun on his shoulder. “Goin’ to check that resort about three miles up into the mountains, now the snow’s melted.” 

“Yikes. Keep awares. You’ll be back by dark?” 

“Yes ma’am,” he drawls. Ezra is watching you back and forth, like someone sat on the net of a tennis match. Joel shifts his weight and holds up a hand like he’s asking for yours. 

When you step forward and drop your hand in his, he drops a kiss on your knuckles, leaving you a little stunned, and turns away. 

“Y’all have a good day. See you tonight,” he calls over his shoulder, already stalking off with his shoulders up around his ears. You snort and flex your hand, looking back at Ezra. He looks bemused. 

“What?” you ask, giggling at his look. 

“Oh nothin’. The old man just asked what I did to win you over, and I said lots of little touches and even more kisses. And that you like bein’ around your people, and not by yourself.” 

You nod, scuffing your boots in the grass. “That's a fair synopsis.” 

Ezra watches you another moment and stands, stepping closer. He hooks his hand around your backpack strap and reels you in, grinning. “I gotta go to the nursery today, soleil. But I will be here with bells on at lunchtime.” 

“Alright. Have a good day, baby.” You give him a kiss with your hand cupped around his jaw, and he squeezes you close round the ribs for a beat before letting you go unlock the clinic. When you're inside, he waves and ambles off in the direction of the nursery. 

_______________

Joel is annoyed. 

His trailmates today consist of Tommy, two young trigger-happy idiots he calls the Dukes of Hazzard, a grizzled masc woman named Peg, and Cam. 

Tommy started the trail out by pairing the young ones off at the tail, he and Joel in the center, and Peg and Cam on the scout front. Joel’s good ear is on the outside of the group, his flank covered by effective if jumpy kids, and he’s on his preferred mount, a roan horse called Strawberry. 

That ain't what he’s annoyed by. 

He’s annoyed that Tommy keeps loudly asking him about you. 

“Saw you talkin’ to her man this mornin’ while I was getting trail rations at the grocer. What's that about?” 

Joel just harrumphs at him and tightens the reins in his fist. 

“Aw come on, brother. Did you talk to them?” 

He is met with more silence. Tommy lets it be for maybe half a mile. 

“Y’know. I’ll switch you and Cam out on their supply runs if you want. They’re due to go out again next week.” Tommy hides his smirk when Joel finally glances his way, curiosity heavy on his brow. 

“Yeah?” 

Tommy can't help but snort a laugh. “Yeah, I'm sure he’s tired of them anyhow. Might as well be three lovebirds ‘stead of two and an awkward watchman.” 

Joel scowls at him, and Tommy just grins. 

“Don't call me that,” Joel grumbles, driving his heels into Strawberry’s sides to get her to push forward a few yards, gain some distance. 

“I won’t if you start actin’ like it, and give me some details! Or I can keep ribbing you!” 

Joel just huffs and takes the verbal beating. He can't give details he doesn't have, and he doesn't think he’d share them anyway. 

They get to the resort and find a huge stash of salt for the pools and roads, medicine in a meebay wing, and some tinned food. They haul everything they can carry back to Jackson and, barring a sprained ankle on Peg (exacerbating a prior injury; she walks it off) there were no injuries to report. 

By the time Joel is walking to the end of Rancher Street, it’s dark. Your lights are on, and Ezra’s are dark. Joel peeks around the side of his house and sees the garage light on. Ellie’s in there, probably working away on her little hideaway. He stands there in the driveway for a long moment, wanting to see her and wanting to see you. 

In the end, Ellie makes the choice for him. 

“JOEL!” she shouts, throwing the door to the garage open and cupping both hands around her mouth. He winces and moves, letting her eyes catch on him in the drive. 

“Stop yellin’,” he grouses, walking to her. She’s ushering him into her little house, talking a mile a minute. Cee is there, on a sofa, reading a graphic novel. She glances up at him when he walks in and waves. He nods back. 

“What’d you need?” 

“Can you help me build a shelf, for right here?” She points to a rectangle of space on one wall and moves her hands up and down like she’s miming the shape of a bookshelf. 

“Like on the wall or like a bookshelf?” He asks, eyeing the space. 

“A bookshelf!” 

Joel lets a smile tick up one side of his face. “Alright. I’ll see what wood I can rustle up. You girls ate yet?” 

“Yes.”

“Yeah,” the both chime in. “Left you some on the stove,” Ellie adds, going back to sit on the loveseat by Cee. 

Feeling dismissed, Joel nods. “Okay. Thanks, kiddo. G’night. Night, Cee,” he says to their twinned waves, and sees himself out. 

When he’s on the last step of his back porch, you open your back door and lean in the doorframe. “Hey stranger,” you say, and he pauses. He can hear the faint clink behind you in the kitchen, implying that Ezra is over. 

“Hey yourself,” he replies, leaning on the porch railing. 

“Good run today?” 

Joel shrugs, “No injuries, got some goodies. Got harassed by my damn brother.” 

You laugh, and he can’t help but smile. He’s missed the sound of your laugh. “About me?” 

“‘bout both’a you,” he says, pointing at the door behind you with his chin. Mirth twinkles in your eyes and he heaves a weary sigh. “I’m off rounds tomorrow, if you wanna talk. But I'm beat tonight, hon. Not sure I can take much conversation.” 

“I was gonna ask if you wanted to stay over, sleep it off, actually.” 

Joel freezes, watching you carefully. You recognize the look; he gives it to other people often enough. Trying to figure out their angle, why they’re goading him, and whether it's worth it. 

“He’s not stayin’?” 

You shrug. “He doesn't have to. He’s the one that offered, actually. Come on,” you say, winking, and disappear back inside. 

Joel stays there another second, deciding, before coming to the conclusion that there is no decision. He wants to sleep next to you, even if Ezra is on your other side. He goes into his own house and snags a change of clothes and his toothbrush and goes back out the back door, locking it and calling out for Ellie. 

“Going next door for the night!” He waits for her Okay to carry back across the driveway and hops the low fence over to your side, clambering up your narrow back steps to your door. 

Joel enters your house and hears you talking from the living room. He follows through the kitchen to the half wall and into the larger room, spotting you and Ezra sitting on the sofa, chatting. 

“Uh. Hey,” he says, pausing in the doorway. 

“Hey yourself,” You give him a beaming smile and scoot over, patting the far end of the couch for him to join you. Ezra is on one end, you in the middle. “Come here if you want. Or, you can abuse my shower if you prefer.” 

Joel presses his molars together and sits. He glances at Ezra, who is watching you and Joel both with a faint smile ticking up his mouth. Joel nods at him and waits for you to initiate conversation. It’s quiet for a long moment. 

“I was just going,” Ezra says, just as Joel gives in and breaks his silence. 

“I don't care if you stay.” 

“Oh,” Ezra says, glancing at you. 

“My bed is big enough. I’ll gladly be the center of attention,” you chuckle. 

And so, fifteen minutes later, you’re stretched out in bed facing Ezra, nearly asleep in the face of his soft snores. The man can fall asleep on a fence line now that he’s safe. Your face is tucked into his chest, his arm limp on the bed between your bodies. 

Joel pads quietly up to the loft and comes around to the open space behind you, kneeling on the mattress and stretching out with an old man groan. You exhale sharply in a silent laugh, reaching back for his hand. Joel rolls to spoon up behind you, settling your bum on his thighs and his belly in the arch of your lower back, just the way you like. He hums against your hairline, wrapping his arm around your waist. His skin is just slightly damp from the shower, smelling like the town’s green soap, your favorite, hoarded in chips and fragments of bars in your linen cabinet to preserve it. 

“Missed you,” Joel whispers against your nape, and you turn your face up to the ceiling, glancing back at him. Your arm lifts and bends back, fingers curling in his damp hair. 

“I missed you, too,” you whisper back. He kisses your cheekbone and squeezes you round the ribs once before resettling. You feel him slowly loosen against you until his snores softly mingle with Ezra’s, pulling you to sleep. 

In the dim morning, the backs of Ezra’s knuckles are resting against Joel’s belly, his arm loose over the dip of your waist, sandwiched between your back and Joel’s softness. Joel is in much the same position, his arm spooled out over your hip, unmoved since he woke up when the sunlight brightened above your bed. He can feel each of Ezra's even breaths against his knuckles, the tickle of his sparse chest hair since he’d gone to bed in just shorts. 

He thinks vaguely that he should be offended, repelled. He should flinch back and move his arm, pull away from such a casual, careless touch. He’s meant to be cuddling you, not sharing a cuddle with him. His next thought is that moving away will surely wake you, and he doesn't want that, at all. He wants to lay here. He wants to be still and soft and comfortable, even touching Ezra. 

He stays.

AN: if you finished or came back from part 1 for more, that means you liked it! please like and reblog! this is not an archive, views depend on your sharing! (so does my continued writing!)

Part 3 should go up on ao3 this weekend! bookmark and sub there for the quickest updates!

Edit: link to part 3: link

#ezra (prospect) #prospect (2018) #joel the last of us #joel miller #joel x reader #ezra x reader #joel x reader x ezra #poly dynamics #the last of us

[needlekirby]

Merry sort-of Christmas! My partner, @glowbug-art, drew this for me. Also chapter 16 is up!!!

Hypothermic Jon is off screen somewhere around there I think

#foggier #tma fanart #tma fic #jmart #martin blackwood #they’re so funny omg we can’t stop saying this

[raposarealm]

What about Alina for the bingo meme thingy?

That's three for three on Magireco characters, I'm both surprised and also not, ehe Anyways of course Alina, everybody's favorite Mad Artist!

I think Alina has my favorite Magireco meguca design actually -- I love the slick 'uniform' design, which is ironic given how much I hated uniforms in school. It's probably the difference between 'Catholic schoolgirl uniform' and 'military-esque uniform but without the guilt of being actually military.' Or something. As someone who also does art stuffs, even though obviously I'm a) not a pro, and b) nowhere near Alina's talent level, BOY do I feel for her. Some art critics are the damned scum of the Earth. As of Arc 2 ending, we have her full motives and viewpoint on her art vs. the state of the world, and I love that they clarified her actual views instead of her while being influenced by Mikoto. As I've mentioned, my mother was a paramedic (and firefighter, god damn woman this is why you needed heart surgery!), and therefore I've had a lot of exposure to stories of disasters and crises, and of people putting their lives on the line for others and giving a middle finger to Death. (Example A: someone who jumped into the Potomac in the middle of winter to save someone who was drowning because a bridge collapsed. It's cold as fuck in DC in the winter, it's a surprise he didn't end up hypothermic.) So, I can agree with Alina for once: human nature shines at its brightest when facing impossible odds.

Whoops I gave a small ramble sorry all. Either way, thanks for this one Anon, and to the rest of y'all, I'm still taking these if you want to see me ramble over someone else ^ ^

#i initially reblogged this ask meme because i saw someone grumbling about lack of content in the exe tag #and was expecting that someone would throw a character from that cast at me #i guess i should've realized that most of the folks following me are here for magireco ^ ^; #(i'm going to convert y'all give it time) #this answer took a minute because I had to start processing the parents' laundry because they drove like halfway across the state today #the long way #so like almost 4 hours i think #anyways #alina gray #anonymous #ask meme #character bingo #rapo answers

[lakesbian]

used to believe that alec presumably took overlong depression showers in the loft and it somewhat pissed rachel and lisa off but in light of new information (loft shower sucks) i'm recalibrating to "all of the undersiders are talented in the art of extremely efficient showers lest they become hypothermic, and also they have a social taboo against using the water for anything while someone else is in the shower"

#wormtime 2 #wormtime 2 arc 6

[wandering-night19]

Just found your blog based on your new fic, which I loved! I was most excited by the medical accuracy knowledge. Do you have any old posts or thoughts about the medical accuracy for Danger Magnet Strand’s NDEs? I know the show is A Bit Not Good with that. I can’t find anything useful on recovery from severe hypothermia and it is driving me nuts.

I could literally write a dissertation on how terrible the medicine in this show is, but I will do my utmost to keep from doing that. Everyone at work makes fun of me, but I fell in love with these damn characters.

The shooting drives me absolutely crazy. “Well, it missed the subclavian artery, so he’s fine!” No. Absolutely not. He would at the very LEAST need physical therapy. It’s his shoulder! Do you know how much is happening up there??? Here have a picture... (under the cut because I am long winded)

TK would’ve come in as a trauma alert GSW to the chest. His chest!!! And he’s back at work in 10 days??? No!

I’m assuming they had him in a coma as a result of hypovolemic shock? I don’t know. It remains unclear. But that boy literally only had a nasal cannula the whole time? At the MINIMUM he would’ve come out of surgery with the following:

Art line

Central line

Temp sensing foley

NG/OG tube

AT THE MINIMUM 1 chest tube. Probs more tbh.

But I digress. You’re here for severe hypothermia. And boy do I have some THOUGHTS on this.

First of all, ECMO started in the back of a rig??? No, fucking way.

But this is supposed to be about TK, so…

You’re telling me this kid ran naked out into negative degree temperatures and rolled around on the frozen ground and there wasn’t any frostbite? Ha!

Let’s start from the beginning. So the call to the ER for TK would be traumatic arrest with ROSC achieved in the field. He should be intubated before he arrived, but this show doesn’t care about intubation. So let’s say they bag him all the way to the hospital.

When he arrives in the ER he’d be taken to the trauma room and 8 million things would happen at once. The first thing would be intubation. If a patient is intubated they need (at the very minimum) the following:

Sedation and paralytic medications

Central line

Art line

Temp sensing foley

OG tube

Because of the severe hypothermia his temperature would be monitored with a nifty esophageal thermometer. While the temp sensing foley gives bladder temp it’s behind until he’s warmed up enough.

He would also get warm IV fluids and peritoneal lavage, which is where we poke a hole in your tummy and introduce warm fluid that way. He’d also get the bair hugger which is a fun little plastic blanket type thing that inflates with warm air. (We break out the machine on night shift and put it at the nurses station. Best thing ever invented.)

Labs would be drawn and be all over the place because ice blood!! We’d probably be able to get him up to an ICU bed in an hour or two. I’d say he’d be a 1:1 for whatever ICU nurse gets him just because with all the monitoring for the first few hours it’s be impossible to get out of that room. If the nurse was 1:2 with a patient like TK the other patient would (re: should) be an easier patient. But in this post COVID world that ain’t happening. 😂

Recovery would be a verrrrrrry long road. With concern for arrhythmias and hypoxic brain injury and muscle atrophy. And then just soooo many other things. And the reason you can’t find anything useful is probably because TK would’ve died in the real world. Not a lot of people come back from that.

So this got away from me. I’m sorry. Here have some links.

This is a great article about hypothermia

And here’s a video of an actual hypothermic patient being treated in the ER so you can see all of the equipment that would be needed.

Obviously, I love to talk medicine. My inbox is always open for this. Just be prepared for me to go overboard. Sorry.

No idea if this helps or not. 🤷‍♀️

#answered ask #asks #anon ask #medical questions #911ls asks #tk strand #tw: medical talk

[gvtted-gutz]

pinned post

do not repost our arts without permission and credit. thanks. DO NOT ID OUR ART WITHOUT PERMISSION.

18+ discord server

> 20s

> it/its

> call us gutz

> draw when we want

> ask about our ocs please.

> asks open (nsfw/art ideas)

> mentally/physically ill (list too long)

> have age or "adult" in bio or pinned or get bocked

> may or may not be in the slasher, dbd, tnmn, and marble hornets fandoms.

> if you make any art (nsft/sfw) of our ocs/persona, send an ask or submission or @ us. we'd love to see it

> more doodles\quick art than detailed (not everything is nsfw. If it is/suggestive. we use the community labels.)

we like drawing our persona a lot. makes us feel better in a way. nsfw of it makes us feel hot /srs

> we may send anon asks but know it takes a lot of time and effort as it can put us into attacks (we do not like chatting often but we wish you well.)

> if we do art of your persona/oc, we'll tag you. if you prefer dms, we'll send it there (uncensored nsfw can be sent in dms since tumblr will flag us. just ask)

tags

> gutz.seez

> others ocs

> free to use

> gutz.doodle

> maze.oc <- oc

> bunny.oc <- oc

> drawn sh scars

> guys.art <- fanart

> ask.gutz <- askbox

> seeker.oc <- mh oc

> bee.oc <- slasher oc

> sub.gutz <- submissions

> gutz.persona <- persona

> gutz.gutz <- gore, blood, body horror

Tumblr artists we admire/enjoy art from (you should check em out)

> reipx

> necrocto

> gravemud

> sickhoondr

> rotten-home

> turnipoddity

> yooo-lets-go

> circustroubles

> twomaskedidiots

Refs (old/outdated)

Bee:

maze:

Seeker:

Bunny:

Persona:

Spider-Wing:

Headless hound:

Pfp change jumpscare (22/04/2024)

#pinned post #Spotify #artists we like #tags

[mercuryhc2024]

Advancements in Patient Care: Hyperthermia and Hypothermia Units by Mercury Healthcare 

In the realm of healthcare, advancements in technology continually revolutionize patient care. Among these advancements, hyperthermia and hypothermia units play a crucial role in managing extreme body temperatures, ensuring optimal patient outcomes. At Mercury Healthcare, we're dedicated to harnessing the latest innovations to enhance these units, providing cutting-edge solutions for medical professionals. 

Hyperthermia, characterized by elevated body temperature, and hypothermia, marked by abnormally low body temperature, present significant challenges in healthcare settings. Both conditions can result from various factors, including environmental exposure, infections, and underlying medical conditions. Effective management of these conditions requires precise temperature control, rapid response, and tailored treatment strategies. 

Mercury Healthcare's hyperthermia and hypothermia units integrate advanced technology and medical expertise to address these challenges comprehensively. Our units are designed with precision temperature regulation capabilities, allowing healthcare providers to maintain patients' body temperatures within safe ranges effectively. With real-time monitoring and intelligent control systems, our units ensure accurate temperature management, minimizing the risk of complications and optimizing patient outcomes. 

One of the key advancements in our hyperthermia and hypothermia units is the integration of state-of-the-art cooling and heating technologies. These technologies enable rapid temperature adjustment, allowing healthcare providers to respond promptly to fluctuations in patients' body temperatures. Whether cooling down a patient with heatstroke or rewarming a hypothermic individual, our units deliver precise and efficient temperature control, enhancing the efficacy of treatment interventions. 

In addition to temperature control, Mercury Healthcare's units prioritize patient comfort and safety. Our units feature ergonomic designs, with adjustable settings to accommodate patients of various ages and sizes. Soft, hypoallergenic materials ensure comfort during prolonged use, while safety mechanisms prevent overheating or excessive cooling, mitigating the risk of adverse events. 

Furthermore, our hyperthermia and hypothermia units are equipped with advanced monitoring and alarm systems, providing healthcare providers with real-time data and alerts. These systems enable early detection of temperature abnormalities and facilitate timely intervention, minimizing the risk of complications and improving patient outcomes. Integrated data logging capabilities allow for comprehensive documentation of temperature trends, supporting accurate diagnosis and treatment planning. 

At Mercury Healthcare, we understand the importance of versatility and adaptability in healthcare settings. That's why our hyperthermia and hypothermia units are designed to be multifunctional, catering to a wide range of medical applications. Whether used in emergency departments, intensive care units, or specialized treatment centers, our units offer flexible solutions for temperature management across diverse patient populations. 

Looking ahead, Mercury Healthcare remains committed to advancing hyperthermia and hypothermia units to meet the evolving needs of healthcare providers and patients. Through ongoing research and development initiatives, we strive to incorporate the latest technological innovations and clinical insights into our products. By continually pushing the boundaries of innovation, we aim to redefine the standard of care for temperature management in healthcare settings. 

In conclusion, hyperthermia and hypothermia units play a vital role in patient care, particularly in managing extreme body temperatures. At Mercury Healthcare, we're dedicated to advancing these units to enhance patient outcomes. With cutting-edge technology, precision temperature control, and a focus on safety and comfort, our units empower healthcare providers to deliver optimal care to every patient, every time. 

#Hyperthermia/Hypothermia Unit Management #Temperature management in critically ill patients #What is hyper-hypothermia unit? #Hypothermia Unit For Sale #Warming/Cooling Unit Models #Use of hypothermia in the intensive care unit

[boardingasp]

Ok so I can’t screenshot on Tapas bc it is art theft(I found out by being a dumbass, I promise I deleted as soon as the message came up and I am very sorry to the artist) but I saw this comment that was supper funny

Snowball fights can only be called that when both sides consent to the rules of engagement, otherwise it’s just hypothermic assault.

[mercury-healthcare]

Why Our Hypothermia Machine Is the Ideal Choice for Patient Care – Mercury Healthcare

  When it comes to providing effective therapeutic hypothermia treatment, choosing the right Hypothermia Machine is paramount. With several options available on the market, it is crucial to select a device that prioritizes patient safety, ease of use, and optimal outcomes. In this blog post, we will discuss the key reasons why our hypothermia machine stands out as the ideal choice for healthcare providers, ensuring the highest standard of care for patients in need of cooling therapy.

Precision Temperature Control:

Our hypothermia machine boasts state-of-the-art temperature control technology, enabling precise and accurate regulation of body temperature. Maintaining a stable hypothermic state is essential for effective treatment, and our machine ensures that the target temperature is consistently achieved and maintained throughout the cooling period. This level of precision minimizes temperature fluctuations, optimizing patient outcomes and reducing the risk of complications.

User-Friendly Interface and Intuitive Design:

We understand the importance of user-friendly equipment in a healthcare setting. Our hypothermia machine features an intuitive interface and ergonomic design, making it easy for medical professionals to operate. Clear and concise controls, coupled with a user-friendly touchscreen, streamline the cooling process, allowing healthcare providers to focus on delivering quality patient care. Additionally, the machine’s compact size and maneuverability enhance its versatility and ease of use in various clinical settings.

Advanced Safety Features:

Patient safety is our utmost priority, and our hypothermia machine incorporates advanced safety features to ensure a secure and controlled cooling environment. The machine is equipped with sophisticated temperature sensors and alarms that promptly notify healthcare providers of any deviations from the desired temperature range. This proactive monitoring system helps prevent potential complications and enables immediate intervention, guaranteeing patient safety throughout the cooling therapy.

Customizable Treatment Options:

Every patient is unique, and their treatment requirements may vary. Our hypothermia machine offers a range of customizable treatment options, allowing healthcare providers to tailor the cooling therapy to individual patient needs. Adjustable temperature settings, duration of therapy, and other parameters can be easily modified, ensuring personalized care and maximizing the effectiveness of the treatment for each patient.

Seamless Integration and Data Management:

Integrating our hypothermia machine with existing hospital systems is hassle-free, thanks to its compatibility with electronic medical records (EMR) and data management software. The machine seamlessly integrates with hospital networks, enabling real-time data monitoring, automatic charting, and comprehensive documentation of patient progress. This integration streamlines workflow, enhances communication between healthcare providers, and facilitates accurate and efficient data analysis for improved clinical decision-making.

Conclusion:

Selecting the right hypothermia machine is crucial for delivering optimal patient care during therapeutic cooling treatment. Our hypothermia machine combines precision temperature control, user-friendly design, advanced safety features, customizable treatment options, and seamless integration with hospital systems. By choosing our machine, healthcare providers can ensure the highest standard of care, maximize treatment efficacy, and improve patient outcomes. Invest in our Medical Equipment Manufacturer hypothermia machine and experience the difference it can make in delivering exceptional cooling therapy for your patients.

#Cardiac Surgery Machine #Heater Cooler Machine #Hyper-Hypothermia Machine Supplier #Hypothermia Machine #medical equipment manufacturer #Hyper-Hypothermia Machine #Fast Cooling machine #Hyper-Hypothermia Machine Supplier in india #hypo hyperthermia machine #hypothermia equipment

[chronicallytiredmuses]

**MY ART!!! DO NOT STEAL!!!**

⚠️Trigger Warning: Human Experimentation, Deteriorating Health, Abuse, Mental Illness, *Very* brief mention of R@pe⚠️

**General Info:**

Name: Samel Felix Weber

Nicknames: Sammy, Sam, 013

Gender: Male

Age: 28 years old

Birthdate: February 23

Zodiac Sign: Picses

Sexuality: Gay

T, S, B: Bottom

**Appearance:**

Height: 6’1

Weight: 167 lbs

Body Type: Slim but has a lot of muscle tone

Skin Tone: Paper White

Hair color: Black with silver pieces

Hair style: Short and messy

Eye color: Blind white

Scars?: All over his face and body

Piercings?: None

Tattoos?: ‘013’ tattooed on his wrist

Other distinguishing features?: Dark bags underneath his eyes, starting of frostbite on his fingers, toes, nose, and cheeks, lips have a cold blueish tint

**History:**

Family: Shawn Becker (Father), Trish Weber (Mother)—Biological

The other “projects” at the lab are people he counted as siblings (24, though there’s very likely more)—

Relja Jovanovic (FtM Trans)-009

Aksel Olsen (Male)-043

Oliver Addison (Male)-021

Nikolai Vukašin (Male)-010

Alexei Ivanov (Male)- 092

Freya Hansen (Female)- 029

Aleksander Siatas (Male)- 036

Athen Cirillo (Male)-059

Seras Raine (Female)- 086

Echo Lambert (Non-binary, biologically Female)- 048

January Garcia (MtF trans)- 003

Karma Singh (Intersex)- 067

Hollis Becken (Female)-035

Arsen Becken (FtM Trans)-034

Astrid Becken (Female)-033

Airi Goda (Male)- 051

Kendall Mason (MtF trans)- 016

Jace Holland (Male)- 017

Sage Russet (Male)- 082

Dima Popovic (Male)- 074

Noa Bakker (Female)- 089

Max Bakker (Male)-088

Emil Koch (Male)-042

Krimson Kaiser (Non-binary Female)- 007

Backstory: Sammy Weber was born in Hamburg, Germany and was a product of rape. His mother had placed him up for adoption due to not being able to stand what had happened to her. She ended up signing all the rights over to a man she had met and believed he would give the child a good life, though that was far from the truth. Sammy was brought to a lab amongst several other children who had been experimented on, and the started the modification process right away, trying to use the children to create people with different abilities and powers to use to their own advantage. He was modified to have an ice-based ability. No one cares nor understood the negative consequences this ability may have, however. He started to become hypothermic, sick, and eventually almost completely lost his vision. Due to this, he was quickly considered a failure and quickly got rid of, originally supposed to be exterminated but the person handling his case quickly turned against her oath and ended up getting him out without the knowledge of others. Sammy was 14 at the time this happened. He got taken in by a group of other homeless people who tried to take care of him until one day during a breakdown he had ended up freezing them to death whenever they tried to come into contact with him to provide comfort. He ran away after that, as fast as he was able to and is still on the run

Love Interest (if any): Unknown

Physical Illness?: Severe and persistent hypothermia

Neurological Illness?: None

Mental Illnesses?: C-PTSD, Haphephobia (specific to his hands), Panic Disorder, Major Depressive Disorder, OCD, Psychosis (induced by stress or severe depressive episodes)

Handicaps?: Legally Blind

Genetic Mutations?: None that he was born with

**Personality:**

Personality: Sammy is a very shy person. He’s soft spoken, and very largely cut-off social interaction. Due to this, he doesn’t always know how to socialize properly, which can make him come across as ‘air-headed’ at times. Due to his past, he has an extreme fear of touching people with his hands, as he’s afraid of hurting any more people. Sammy is a really sweet person, and does want to help people even if he doesn’t always know how to do so.

**Any Trivia:**

Sammy is also completely fluent in several languages. The list from order that he’s learned them is

German (native language)

Norwegian (both dialects)

Sami

Russian

English

Dutch

French

#original character #oc art #roleplay #original story

[attollogame]

Happy Birthday, Pariah

It’s unconventionally cold today, far below what the average predicts. Frost kisses the tips of the grass and the trees that they walk by, and blankets itself across the rooftops of the neighborhood houses like a shield from the light. They hadn’t bothered to check the weather before they went out last night—instead choosing to do their usual approach of winging it or dying trying—and it seems like the ‘dying trying’ option is what they ultimately got.

It’s hard to focus on surveillance when you’re shivering like a leaf.

Are you ready to call it a night, yet? We haven’t seen anything this entire time—and you look close to hypothermic. Deadlock’s voice carries like a whisper in their mind, causing a shiver not produced by the cold to run through their body again. Years and years of knowing him, and yet they still can’t fathom how he’s able to connect with them at such long distances. He’s still in The Juniper Bond; they’re twenty minutes away.

Pariah clicks their tongue in response as they tug the leather jacket tighter around their body. They can still feel Deadlock’s presence in their mind—poking, prodding, and in every sense of the word, bullying them into an answer—and they know that Helios is probably egging him on.

Pariah. Deadlock’s voice returns, far sterner than the easy-going tone that it was moments before. Pariah tips their head back to stare at the bleak gray sky above. Then they hear the sound of a screen door opening and slamming shut, forcing their attention back to the house in front of them. They feel Deadlock’s presence grow stronger in their mind and they know that he’s now paying attention as well—they all are.

They sink back into the shadows of the car they’ve been posted behind for the majority of the evening, watching as he approaches the vehicle without a single ounce of awareness. Pariah feels their lips curling into a grin—a predatory smile if one might—as Wallace fumbles for the keys in his back pocket. Before he has a chance to pull them out, Deadlock leaves Pariah’s mind with one final whispered remark—don’t be gentle.

Pariah watches as a man half-stumbles his way out of the house and down the steps and they can practically hear their blood rushing through their veins at the sight of him.

Wallace Carperton, a 52-year-old finance manager at the Casallah Bank. He enjoys social drinking, art galleries, and selling individuals to the highest bidder in his free time. Right now he’s riding down a night of binge drinking and drugs with people who are definitely not at the age to be doing such things—and in about two minutes, he’s going to be welcoming this frosty morning with Pariah's foot shoved down his throat.

Naturally, they won’t be.

----

It’s only when the police finally come to pick Wallace up does Pariah bother to check the time. They tug their phone out of their back pocket as an officer hauls Wallace—nose fractured and blubbery apologies spilling from his lips—off of the asphalt and into a waiting car. Pariah grimaces as they adjust their helmet. The fact that these individuals think a few tears and half-assed apologies are enough to excuse their actions is something that’s always put Pariah in the worst of moods—it’d be better if they just admit that they did what they did and make the process easier for everyone involved.

Regardless, Wallace will be torn apart—metaphorically, and perhaps literally—by Suha and the Crowes within a day. When it comes to anything with the selling of people, they don’t wait around too long.

With this in mind, Pariah clicks on their phone and scans over the notifications coming in. Most are from the Triumvirate chat—Deadlock and Helios have some errands to run—a few are from the police lines and news accounts on Chirp, and one is a calendar notification that causes Pariah’s mood to darken even further—

Birthday.

The date on the phone doesn’t lie, either. October 27th, 7:31 am. It’s still about four hours until the time they were actually born, but it is the day, and they shove their phone back into their pocket in a bid to ignore it.

What a shitty start.

---

They’re met with silence when they re-enter the headquarters after giving the police the evidence that they had acquired on Wallace. The lights are off and they don’t hear anything from Deadlock’s room; considering that he always has the radio playing—the only way he can drown out the sound of people, in his words—this is unusual. But he did say he has errands to run today. Pariah tugs off their helmet and squints at the door before moving to their own room, desperate for the more comforting silence it’ll bring.

When they get inside, they set their helmet down on the nearby table before immediately falling back on their bed. Their room is rather befitting of who they are, as is the case with a lot of the member's rooms. Helios’ room is decked out in polaroids of her and Abyssal, her and her siblings, her and a reluctant Pariah, and so forth. Deadlock’s room is filled to the brim with architectural drawings, paint supplies, canvases, and numerous records.

Pariah’s room...is scarce. There’s a dresser, a king-sized bed, a desk for work, and a closet where their spare clothes are haphazardly shoved inside. Nothing decorates the walls or the ceiling, they have no fancy carpets or blinds, and there aren't any extras besides a bedside lamp and an alarm clock. It’s an incredibly minimal room and it’s precisely how they like it.

Save, that is, for the box shoved underneath the bed. The box, which they now roll over and pull out. With some apprehension, they remove the top to peer inside. It’s in here that their personal assets from their former life remain—photos of them standing beside a woman with curly hair and a smile far too bright for a city like this, numerous letters written in messy handwriting, post-it notes telling them to have a good day at school, and at the very bottom of it all—

A birthday card.

Happy Birthday, Dorian!

They remove the card and stare at it for a moment. A part of them is saying to put it back, to ignore it all, to let it rest. Next year, this part says, next year you can do this—there’s no reason to hurt today.

And yet the other part, the louder part, already has them flipping the card open before they have an opportunity to stop themself. There’s a small block of text written in the same messy handwriting as the letters, and they find themselves reading it over and over as if by order of something other than them;

I’m sorry I have to work today so I can’t be here when you open this, but I want you to know that I’m so proud of you, and I hope you have the most amazing day today <3 I’ll see you for dinner tonight!! We’re having take-out and cake—I promise I’ll get it from an actual bakery this time.

Love you lots!!—Gabby.

They bite the inside of their cheek as they slide the card shut, staring at the giraffe holding a 1 and a 7 on the front cover. It’s a stupid box office card that they know Gabriella picked up in a rush last minute, per usual, but the words ‘i’m proud of you' are the only reason why they haven’t burned it like most of the other items yet—it isn’t that Gabriella never told them this, it’s just that this was the last time she ever did. She died not too soon after.

With a low sigh, they roll onto their back and stare at the ceiling above them. Exhaustion from the long night they just had is now creeping into their mind, and they find themselves closing their eyes before they even realize it—

Card in hand, and the bedroom door still unlocked.

---

The first thing they’re aware of when they come through is the feeling of someone prodding their face. Muffled voices can be heard from somewhere within the room, and Pariah does their best to focus on the tone and sound, to place who they belong to. Their body is already kickstarting back into the red area of stress—where they’re overly aware of what’s happening and ready to react—when suddenly a sharp stinging sensation burns across their cheek.

“Fuck?” The word slips out of their mouth in a snarl as their eyes snap open and they grab the hand of whoever just had the bright idea of slapping them awake. When their gaze locks onto a familiar green-eyed one, this anger boils down to nothing but utter annoyance.

“Evening, sleeping beauty.” Deadlock’s voice drips with sarcasm as he jerks his wrist free from Pariah's grip. To his right is Helios, who’s lounging across Pariah’s bed with a disapproving look on her face.

“Did you really spend your entire birthday sleeping? What kind of party is that?” She lets out a groan as she rolls onto her back, effectively rolling right onto Pariah, and stretches upwards to prod Pariah’s cheek with her hand. “You’re in your twenties, not your fifties. You don’t need to follow the retirement schedule yet.”

“I was out the entire night working, remember?” Pariah leans back and swats her hand away, still nursing the burning aftermath of Deadlock’s wakeup strategy. “And you of all people should know that I’m not really into the ‘party' scene anyway. I’d rather just treat this as another day.”

Deadlock lets out a small, bitter hiss as he scoots himself to the edge of the bed. “Yeah, we know that already. But unfortunately, you’re also friends with the two of us,” he pauses and points at Helios, who gives a cheery grin in response, “and we can’t let this day pass without at least a little celebration. So!”

He reaches down and picks up a small white box from the floor. Pariah doesn’t need to look at it for more than a second before they’re already trying to shove Helios off of them to get up.

“No, you did not do this to me!” Helios lets out a cackle before scrambling to drop her full weight on Pariah, effectively trapping the latter down. Deadlock’s doing his best to keep back as the two of them struggle—one to escape, and one to prevent this from occurring,

“Please just look at it! Do you know how long it took for me to convince Operator to do this shit? I literally had to stand behind the man and loiter in his office before he finally relented.” Helios lets out a huff of breath as she wraps her arms around Pariah’s form. “He says happy birthday, by the way.”

“He absolutely did not say that. He said, and I quote, ‘Helios, I did what you asked for, please let me and my cat go’. It felt far more like a hostage situation than a request if you ask me.” Deadlock shakes his head with a huff as he flips the top of the box open. Pariah, realizing that Helios’ bear-hug is something that they won’t be breaking from any time soon, finally relents and peers down at the cake within.

It’s…

Well, it could certainly belong in some part of an art gallery.

The icing is sloppily applied, a ‘Happy Birthday, Pariah!’ is written in shaky red writing, and Pariah thinks there’s supposed to be a dog drawn in the corner, but it looks more like a to-be-identified alien species instead. Helios props her chin on Pariah’s shoulder, still grinning.

“Deadlock and I decorated it—can you tell?”

“Well I did the writing, Helios did the dog in the corner. You can clearly tell based on what’s before you who should be the lead decorator for the birthday cakes from now on.” Deadlock tips his chin up with a smug grin as he sets the box down on the bed, earning him a bitter look from Helios.

“Bullshit, we had to redo the icing four times because the writing ‘wasn’t up to your standards'. It took us an hour to do what could’ve been done in ten minutes if you weren’t such a hardass for decorating.”

“You switched from cat, to cow, to horse, to giraffe, and then to dog because you’re so indecisive—”

“I’m indecisive? Sir, you simply could not commit to one style of handwriting—”

Helios and Deadlock rapidly dissolve into a series of banter about who is more responsible for the hour-long process it took to create this true homage to Jackson Pollock that Pariah has before them. They take a moment to look at their companions—Helios, with her glimmer of amusement in her eyes, and Deadlock, who’s fighting back a grin as he valiantly defends his handwriting—before looking down at the cake again with their own faint, yet genuine, smile.

Maybe, just maybe, they can enjoy their birthday this year.

But first, they should stop Helios from burning Deadlock to a crisp.

#char:pariah #pariahbirthday #char:deadlock #char:helios

[muffinlance]

I propose a triple crossover: little scaled salvage. zuko is at approximate "can still be worn as a scarf for cuddles" size, his horn nubs are just barely starting to come in. akhlut crew wary until they find that dragon zuko is much less fighty (if just as reckless) than human zuko. winter rolls around and theyre a lil alarmed to find out that all the firebender talk about "agni gives us life" is more literal than they thought, as their scrawny lil dragon son basically starts hibernating

Oh my gosh little dragon Zuko--

He initially tries to escape by flying but can't make it far enough, because he is smol. (Ranalok and Aake just trail him in a boat until he has to land. Aake suggests wing-breaking as a future deterrent, kid doesn't even need those in human form. Ranalok says that's the Chief's call and spends the rest of the trip back with a tired shaky noodle hiding inside his coat. Later, Human Zuko insists he was just COLD, okay, that's ALL.)

Laundry involves their water heater occasionally being IN the tub, sporadic bubbles rising from the wiggly heating coil at the bottom, how long can dragons hold their breath because Panuk and Toklo are starting to discover the relevance of that question-- (Warm baths help with molting, of COURSE he has to get his head wet too, put him back--)

Apologies after burning Bato include a clearly ceremonial handing over of his last molt. Bato is now holding the shed skin of a child and this is just one more thing he Does Not Know What To Do With, in the rather long list he's acquired since returning to the ship.

Human Zuko walks around with a dog in his arms and/or clinging ridiculously to his shoulder. Dragon Zuko rides Seal Jerky around the deck like an epic mount, scaly nose raised high, scruffy little mane blowing majestically in the wind. Human Zuko DOES NOT WANT TO TALK ABOUT THIS. (Seal Jerky is a happy pupper either way.)

On cold nights, Human Zuko steals blankets to his growing nest, and glares at anyone to dare mention it. The first time it was extra cold and he was a dragon, they thought they lost him again. Then Kustaa got into his own hammock--Wake me up if he's hypothermic when you catch him--and just kind of... paused. Dragon nephew had been waiting hours for his warm cuddles. (Toklo hereafter took to piling extra blankets on his own hammock as a dragon-lure. It has not to date been effective, because Toklo is a small inefficient radiator. Acceptable heaters include, but are not limited to: Kustaa, Hakoda, Ranalok, and Aake. Bato is too boney. Aake consistently scruffs the prince and sets him on the floor. This does not stop him waking up to a warm wiggle-snake against his back. Human Zuko insists it's Aake's fault for being so warm and huge and warm.)

Dragon Zuko is trying to teach the albatross-gulls how to land properly via demonstration. Effective communication has yet to be established. (Under the roosting birbs is also an acceptable place to take warm!naps. The crew would like to know how he squeezed through their cage mesh, do dragons not have bones?)

One of Ozai's letters includes a line about his son's skin. Hakoda originally takes this as a metaphor. This is not a metaphor. (Later, Zuko reads the letter, and does not explain to the Chief the difference between 'skin' and 'molt' that Hakoda can't be expected to know but Ozai definitely does. Little Zuko gets to the crying-hugs part of this conversation more quickly than older Zuko did.)

General Fong's letters contained occasional mentions of skin, as well. Fong has always wanted a piece of wall art to match that in the Earth King's palace, and if Ozai won't pay ransom... (NO WE ARE NOT SELLING YOU TO THE EARTH KINGDOM, says Hakoda, when he finally gets it.)

The crew was deeply unsettled to find that the Fire Lord's line were literally inhuman monsters. By the time they reach their first port, nobody had better say anything about their tiny inhuman monster, he is a BLAMELESS NOODLE.

(Aake submits to being a dragon-scarf-perch. Nobody had better say anything about that, either.)

#Toklo's efforts to lure the tiny prince over for scarf-snuggles or bedtime blanket heating continue #Panuk's smirking also continues #when making burn salve Kustaa curls dragon nephew up like a heating coil and puts the pot on top #indignant sulking is the perfect temperature #Scaled Salvage