#because that's so vital to our survival
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You don't need to believe that people as a whole are good or well-intentioned to be an optimist about fixing climate change.
A lot of the time, it's enough to trust in this: people hate being screwed over. And even more than that, they hate feeling screwed over.
Climate change is actively screwing over almost every single person on this planet, whether they know it or not. We just need to keep making sure that people do know that they're getting screwed over, along with all their loved ones, and who's doing it.
Spite and righteous anger will honestly do a lot of the rest.
#hope#good news#hope posting#climate change#climate optimism#life#not news#advice#me#human nature#like. obviously this is imho. but also I'm genuinely convinced that I'm right#spite and anger are powerful motivators#there are scientists who argue that anger's whole evolutionary purpose#is to keep us from being screwed over#because that's so vital to our survival#and what's more vital to our survival than a liveable planet???#channel your anger into action#do not let anyone tell you that optimism or being an activist or being part of a healthy community means never being angry#that is so so untrue#and if you find a way to channel your anger and pain and grief to do GOOD in the world#to help people#then that will also do a lot to stop your emotions from eating you up inside#hopepunk#anger#spite#optimism#hopeposting#humanity
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I'm up to the "I dunno maybe children working 13 hour shifts is bad, guys" part of Capital and it feels important to inform people that haven't read it yet that capitalists in the 19th century were not by any means wringing their hands and twirling their mustaches about employing children to squeeze out profits, they were hiring "experts" to write newspaper articles for them, explaining how "well, the socialists have these big demands about an 8-hour work day, and taking Saturdays off, but it's actually just so complicated, it's too complicated for most people to understand, we just NEED to hire children for night shifts because the stamina of their strong, youthful bodies is the only way we can survive as a business! It's science, you see. Economics doesn't work like that, just ask our economics professors at Oxford. You CAN'T turn a profit only working people 8 hours! Trust the experts, they know. It's just so complicated..."
That exact infuriating cadence that you read in New York Times articles, in the Atlantic Monthly, in the WaPo and all the other bourgeois rags where "everything is so complicated, and it's actually a lot more complicated than you think.." that has been around since the beginning. It is nothing new. So the next time you see some op-ed from Matt Yglesias or any of those other guys huffing their own farts about how "complicated" everything is, and how "unrealistic" a 30-hour work week is, remember that Marx was dealing with that exact class of "intellectuals" "explaining" how working 13 hours at age 10 was "vital" to the "moral fibre" of those poor kids.
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(You're) My Antidote Pt. 3 | Miguel O'Hara x Fem!Reader
ˡᵒᵛᵉˡʸ ᵐᶦᵍᵘᵉˡ ᵃʳᵗ ᵇʸ ᵖᶦⁿᵏᶦᵉᵐᵐᵉ ᵒⁿ ᵗᵘᵐᵇˡʳ
ᵖᵃʳᵗ ¹ | ᵖᵃʳᵗ ² | ᵖᵃʳᵗ ³
Synopsys: Your pregnancy is coming to an end, and Miguel is getting desperate. You're getting sicker and sicker, and your baby seems to be causing more harm than good, as his antidotes. He's running out of time. But Miguel is willing to do anything to ensure your well-being, as well as the well-being of his child.
Words: 8.2k words
Warnings: Angst, fluff, exhausted-Miguel, but also very soft-Miguel, hospitals, very bad science, like, really, really bad science, pain and screaming, syringes, blood, mentions of a difficult labour, births, a very cheesy and corny ending, untranslated Spanish (please correct me if any of it is wrong!). Do mention if I forgot something!
A/N: Hello everyone! I'm here to finally deliver Part 3 of (You're) My Antidote! This one is a little longer than the previous parts, but I guess you can figure out why. Also, I took very big artistic liberties with all of the science talk in this part. Please let me inform everyone that I DO NOW KNOW ANYTHING ABOUT SCIENCE! Everything in here except for the childbirth part is COMPLETELY MADE UP!
So if there are any science majors or doctors out there reading this, please do not burn me at the stake. I really did try my best.
Anyway, I hope you enjoy the conclusion to this series! I had a blast :)
“Her vitals are stable, but we don’t know how much longer they’ll stay that way.” Spider-Doc said, looking at the file on his tablet. “She’s lost a lot of blood and it’s likely she’ll feel weak and sick for a while. We might have to keep her here for a few days before she can return home.”
If she returns home at all.
Miguel was staring at you. Lovely, beautiful, sickly you, lying on a hospital bed. He watched the slow rise and fall of your chest, and winced when his eyes caught the oxygen mask that covered the lower half of your face.
After you’d started bleeding on your bed, he’d taken you to the Spider Society Medical Centre, worried sick. He’d refused to leave the room as every medically inclined Spider-Person ran exams on you. He wasn’t allowed inside your room (He might be the leader of Spider Society, but doctors were doctors, and it didn’t matter how worried he was – he wanted them to do the best they could with no distractions) and paced back and forth in front of the door, until eventually allowed back inside.
“And the baby?” he asked, unable to keep his eyes of you.
“Miraculously, the baby survived. We’re not sure what caused the bleeding, but one of our possible theories is that the baby is destroying her uterus from inside. All the thrashing around must’ve caused the bleeding. The baby is fine, and so is she, but we don’t know how long for.” Spider-Doc looked through his files, scribbling down things with a pen. “We will be able to run further exams, but only after she wakes up. Most of them require her consent.”
Miguel nodded and sat down next to your bed, holding your hand gently, afraid to break you. The oxygen mask covering your face was far too daunting, a harsh reminder of the state you were in, and how much you were suffering.
“What… What’s the probability of them both making it out alive?” he asked, squeezing your hand.
Spider-Doc sighed.
“We don’t know that yet, but… Miguel, it’s likely it won’t happen. The baby, it’s – it’s getting far too strong. It’s not a regular child because he has your genes. And all of the antidote you’ve been giving your wife, well, it soothes him for a while, but as I’m sure you’ve been told before, the baby is growing immune to it, and it’s only hurting your wife more and more.” He paused, glancing at you. “If we don’t find a way to cure it permanently, you might have to choose between one or the other.”
Miguel’s heart broke at the words.
How was he supposed to choose between the love of his life, and his child? His child, that he’d grown to love in this short period of time. The child he hadn’t gotten the chance to know yet, but still harboured a love as deep as the one he had for you.
But on the other hand, this was the child that was killing you.
He’d always wanted a family. You’d always wanted a family. He remembered the day you told him you were pregnant. How happy the two of you were, celebrating and fantasizing about the future, about your little family.
He’d get to come home to his loving wife and kid at the end of a tiring day, both reminding him of why he did what he did, why he risked his life over and over again for the sake of the multiverse. He’d cradle his baby on his arms, marvelling over how such a small, pure creature could’ve come from imperfect, impure him.
He’d watch you as you sang and rocked your baby to sleep, heart melting at the sight of you being a mother – a look he’d wanted on you ever since you told him you’d like a little family of your own.
And now, it was all going down the drain.
The baby was hurting you.
Miguel was hurting you too, with all those syringes and needles he made sure to insert into you. “It’s for your own good”, he’d say, eyes brimming with tears as you begged him not to. And yet, he insisted on sedating you and giving you the antidote, all to make sure you could keep on living.
Your reasoning started out as “Do it. I don’t mind the pain if our baby is fine” and had quickly changed to “You’re hurting him with your antidote Miguel, please stop.” What was Miguel supposed to do when your reasoning basically contradicted itself? You wanted the best for your child, and so did he. But the very thing that was curing it, was also causing it more harm.
“Is there anything else I can do for you, Miguel?” Spider-Doc asked, tugging the files back under his arm.
“No, thank you Doctor. That’ll be all.”
The doctor nodded and promptly left, allowing Miguel some alone time with his wife.
Usually, he’d make sure no one was there to see him as vulnerable as this. But today, Miguel did not care. The love of his life was dying, and because of the child he’d helped make.
It’s all my fault. I’m a freak. I’m a monster. If it weren’t for me, she’d have a normal pregnancy. She’d have a normal child, a normal family. If it weren’t for me being the monster I am, she wouldn’t be in pain. It’s all my fault. I’m a selfish bastard who should’ve never fallen for her in the first place. I knew I couldn’t give her a normal life like everyone else, so why did I still pursue her? If I truly did love her, I’d have left her alone and let her lead a normal life.
This was the internal monologue going inside Miguel’s head. He allowed himself to cry, big tears rolling down his cheek and falling on the floor. Was it selfish of him? Back when you started dating, you told him you didn’t care about who he was. Spider-Man, big Alchemax genius, saviour of the multiverse. You didn’t care for any of those titles. All you wanted was your Miguel, your Miggy. You told him you’d love him forever, no matter what.
You’d love him in his good days, you’d love him through his bad days. You’d kiss his scars and run your fingers through his head and calm him down. You’d celebrate his victories and comfort him during his losses. You’d be there, no matter what.
“I don’t care what you are, Miggy. I love you. Isn’t that enough?” Those were the words you’d always say to him whenever he tried to reason with you, telling you he was a dangerous man, that he could not provide you with the life you deserved. And you never missed a beat, replying “The life I deserve is with you. The life I want is with you.”
And had he been selfish for wanting that? Had he been selfish for wanting a life with you as well? Had he been selfish for fighting for what he wanted for once in his life, instead of giving it up?
A small, gentle hand tugged at his brown curls, and he looked up to find you staring at him through almost closed eyes. Your chest still rose and fell with your breathing, which seemed more stable now. Miguel couldn’t see the entirety of your face, but he found your eyes and the dam broke.
He sobbed into his hands, shaking his head.
“I’m so sorry… This is all my fault… It’s my fault that I’m such a monster and have cursed our child with my genes…” Having heard this, you pulled on his hair, this time harsher. He looked up and saw your eyebrows furrowed in a frown. You shook your head gently and placed a finger to his lips, shutting him up. Your other hand found your stomach and rubbed circles there.
“If it weren’t for me…” Another harsh tug. He did not need to see the rest of your face to know you’d be scolding him right now if you could. You were never one to throw pity parties – you loved him, you said it often, and you were sure of your decisions.
“I love you,” he said, standing up to press a kiss to your forehead. You closed your eyes and instinctively leaned into his touch. “Get some rest, alright? I’ll be here if you need me.” Saying this, he sat back down on the chair, and quietly watched you.
Later that day, some of your closest friends of the Spider Society would stop to check up on you and wish you well. Peter B. brought Mayday and tried to cheer you up by allowing her to perform a series of stunts (if he could call “swinging around the hospital room with her web-shooter” stunts) and telling you jokes.
Jessica had dropped by your apartment and brought her some spare clothes, as well as some of the things she knew you couldn’t live without – your phone, the books you were currently interested in, and other basic items like a hairbrush and a toothbrush. Miguel hated what that implied – that you’d be in here for a while, long enough for you to need these things, but he was willing to do whatever was best to keep you safe.
Miles and Gwen stopped by too, chatting with you calmly and telling you about whatever shenanigans they had been up to in their respective dimensions. It always cheered you up to listen to those two talk. You loved how vibrant and passionate they were about their job as Spider-People, and they always made you insanely proud.
After a few hours, Miguel ushered everyone away, arguing that you needed peace and quiet. They all promised to come back later, and the two of you were left alone once again.
The Spider-Doctors had allowed you to remove your oxygen mask if you felt up for it, so you placed it near your body and tried to distract Miguel out of his worries.
“I’ve been thinking of a few baby names,” you said, caressing your stomach, an action that had become second nature to you.
“¿En serio?” he mumbled. Miguel had pushed his chair as close to your bed as possible, to make sure he could cater to you at all times and help you if you needed. He was currently laying his head next to your torso, and he was facing you. A rather uncomfortable position, but as long as he got to be next to you, that was all right.
“Yeah. I’ve been thinking, if it’s a boy, we can call him Henry.”
Miguel snorted.
“What’s wrong with Henry?” you asked him, pouting.
“We’re not naming our child Henry.” Miguel deadpanned, raising an eyebrow.
“I think it’s a lovely name.”
“Yes, maybe. But not for our child.”
You huffed, flicking his forehead softly.
“Ouch – hey! What was that for?” He asked, lifting his head ever so slightly.
“You’re not taking this seriously.” You looked away, visibly upset.
“No – no, look at me.” When you refused to do it, Miguel lifted his hand to turn your head towards his, so he could look you in the eye. “Mi vida, I’m sorry. I am taking this seriously. I just personally don’t really like Henry. What are some of your other ideas?”
You huffed again and he had to try and hide his smile. You looked rather adorable like this, even if he would never tell you.
“I like Lucas.”
“Hm.”
“You hate it.”
“I don’t – “
“You do, Miggy, I know it! I can see it in your face – that’s the same expression you had when you tried my mom’s empanadas.” You crossed your arms over your chest.
“Cariño, I love your mother, but those empanadas were terrible.” Miguel calmly replied.
“You’re making that same face now.”
“And how can you be so sure it’s a boy?”
“I told you, I can feel it. Call it maternal instinct.” You smiled, and he couldn’t help but smile with you.
“What do you think about Gabriel?”
Now it was your turn to furrow your brows.
“Gabriel? As in – “
“Yeah.” He looked at your stomach and hesitantly placed a hand on top of it. He wanted so badly to communicate with the baby growing inside of you, apologise to him for making him the way he was, and beg him to please stop hurting you. “What do you think?”
You hummed, and grinned.
“I love it.”
Miguel’s head snapped upwards, and his eyes widened.
“Really?”
“Yeah, I like it. Gabriel. I think it’s lovely.”
Miguel leaned upwards and placed the sweetest of kisses on your lips, savouring the sweetness of your words, your body, your soul.
“Gabriel it is then.”
You two remained in silence for a while, before you decided to speak up once again.
“I can’t wait to meet him.” Your voice was low, and Miguel could sense the sheer adoration and utter love you had for your unborn child. “I can’t wait to hold him, and to see you hold him. I’ve always wanted a family with you.”
Miguel did not speak.
“It’ll be fine, Miggy. Everything will be fine.” It was odd. Usually, it was him who had to comfort you. After all, you were the one lying on a hospital bed. “I love you so much. You know that, right?”
He looked up and offered you a small smile, taking your hand and giving it a kiss.
“I do. I love you too. You, and our baby. I would do anything for the both of you. You know that, don’t you?”
You smiled. A sad smile, that said everything you couldn’t find the words to.
“I do, Miggy.”
You puckered your lips, silently begging him for a kiss, which he obliged you with. He tilted your head upwards and kissed you slowly, tongue lazily tracing your bottom lip before you parted your mouth to welcome him. Although weak, your hands still found strength to clutch his shirt and pull him tighter against you.
“I can’t wait to have a family with you,” you whispered against his lips.
Miguel nodded and slowly untangled himself from your grasp.
“You should rest, my love.”
After you’d fallen asleep, Miguel exited the hospital room and made his way to his laboratory.
Lyla’s gleaming form appeared before him, taking her heart-shaped glasses so she could see him better.
“Miguel? Is that you?” she asked, disappearing from her spot, and appearing once again right in front of his face. “I heard what happened. I’m really sorry. Shouldn’t you be with her right now?”
“We need to work on a cure.” Miguel ignored her as he walked towards his workstation, glaring at the papers scattered around. Formulas, calculations, drawings, and sheets filled with words. He had to be getting closer to the cure, right? All those sleepless, restless nights couldn’t have been for nothing. Miguel was one of the smartest men in his universe, clearly there must’ve been something he hadn’t tried yet.
“Miguel, we’ve talked about this. You need to go to her,” Lyla sighed. If she could get tired, she would, really. “Jessica and I are still working on the research. We’re trying our hardest, but you have to – “
“We’re running out of time, Lyla!” Miguel yelled, sending the papers flying all over the room. “She’s getting worse. That baby is killing her, Lyla. It’s killing her, and the antidotes I’m coming up with are just hurting her more… You were right…” He placed his hands on his desk, leaning his head on the top. “You were right, the baby is growing immune and making the antidote stronger will only hurt her further… I don’t know what to do anymore…”
Lyla sighed, her figure flickering in the darkness. She appeared once more next to Miguel, looking at the few papers that managed to stay intact. Her holographic fingers ran through a few lines of text, analysing them.
“All of these formulas… You’ve been increasing the power of the antidote… Making it stronger and stronger to sedate the baby as much as you can… You’ve been far too aggressive on your approach, Miguel.”
“What?” he asked, not even daring to look up.
“Yeah, I mean,” Lyla flickered over to other papers, scanning them and reading them a few times, before returning to Miguel’s side and booting up her results to his computer. “Look at this. You’ve been so focused on sedating the baby, you haven’t even tried to build [Y/N]’s defences up.”
Miguel furrowed his brows, glancing at Lyla in disbelief.
“I did that. With patch 3.4. I fortified them, see?” Using his fingers, he tapped away on his screens, zooming in on a few lines and notes, and then sliding the screen so he could see the matching blood results. “See? Look at the white blood cells.”
“Yes, but still, you’re focusing too much on the offensive side of things.” Lyla quickly sparkled before his eyes, and in a flash, she was inserting sketches and drawings on the picture that shone on the screen. She was crossing out words and numbers and letters and replacing them with her own. “Look, over here. You decided to strengthen the defences, but you also doubled down on the sedative effects. You make it strong for yourself because you’re a grown man. We’re talking about a baby here.”
“A baby that is killing my wife.”
“A baby, nevertheless. The baby’s genes are triggering a response in [Y/N]’s body. What if we reprogram her white blood cells, specifically the T cells and natural killers cells, to recognise and neutralise the foreign elements?” Lyla turned to him and removed her sunglasses.
“We’re not messing with my wife’s genetic code, Lyla. That is out of the question.” Miguel knew the price one had to pay for such a thing. And he wasn’t about to risk your well-being. Who knew what could happen should he try to do something as drastic?
“But what if we don’t have to? We can reinforce the white blood cells in the antidote. We can tweak the core essence of the antidote itself, with Essence Cells – tiny protectors we can unleash to recalibrate the energy balance between her. They’ll form a shield that actively repels the negative influence from the baby’s unique energy pattern.”
Miguel placed a hand on his chin, going over what Lyla had told him.
It was true, he’d been far too preoccupied with tackling the baby issue. But he also knew that strengthening your defences could cause the baby to get stronger and stronger as opposed to stagnate.
“Essence Cells? Can we really do that?”
Lyla shrugged.
“It’s a stretch, but we’re dealing with extraordinary circumstances. If we manipulate the energy signatures in her bloodstream, we might create a defensive barrier that counteracts the harm all of the baby has been doing.”
Miguel faced his papers once again.
“It’s a long shot Miguel, but at this point, what do you have to lose?”
“I can lose [Y/N] – “
“What’s fortifying her defences gonna make? Worst case scenario, her immune system grows.”
Miguel stared at the screen. He remained silent.
“It wouldn’t hurt to try.” Lyla voiced one last time.
It wouldn’t. If it worked, you’d be safe. The baby would be safe.
If it didn’t, he’d at least buy you more time.
And prolong your suffering, a little voice whispered in his head.
He shook that nasty thought away.
“Let’s do it.”
You’d been doing fine.
You’d been healthy, colour had returned to your cheeks, and you seemed to be healing just fine. The baby hadn’t caused much trouble, sometimes kicking you harder than a normal baby should, but, overall, behaving.
The new antidote mix seemed to be working.
Miguel was currently sitting by your side, reading your favourite book out loud. You claimed you were “far too tired” to pick it up, but Miguel knew you simply liked the cadence of his voice. No matter. He’d read to you as many times as you wanted if it meant you’d be fine.
“You sound so nice,” you mumbled, eyes slowly closing. You were close to falling asleep, although it wasn’t even near 3PM. Sure, you were healing, but having a baby that shared 50% of his genes with your vampire-ninja-spiderman husband (as Miles so charmingly put it) was tiresome, and you found yourself exhausted even before lunch time on most days.
“I’m sure the baby likes to hear you too,” you yawned. Miguel smiled at the sight. Although not the ideal location, this is all Miguel has ever wanted for you. A quiet, peaceful, healthy pregnancy with him catering to your every need, and you just sitting pretty as not to strain yourself much.
“I can’t wait to hear him,” rubbing the sleep away from your eyes, you sit up – or rather, try to. Miguel is next to you in milliseconds, propping you up with pillows and making sure you were comfortable.
“This alright?” he asked, fluffing up a pillow behind you.
“Perfect,” you smiled and kissed his jaw affectionately. “You know, I’ve been thinking.”
“That’s never good,” he chided with a fake worried expression.
“Ha ha, very funny. But I wanna get out of here.”
Miguel took a sharp breath.
“I know what you’re gonna say, Miggy, but I need to get out. Just for a while. I can walk, you know? I’m tired of being in this damn hospital bed for so long. I promise it’ll be fine; you can even come with me! Please? Exercising is good for the baby.”
“[Y/N]…” Miguel sighed, reaching out to hold your face.
You were quicker though and held his hands with your own.
“Please, Miguel. You can accompany me or chaperone me, or whatever you want to call it. But I’ve been getting better, and all I want is to move around a bit. I’ll be fine. And after we go for a walk, I’ll return to bed, I promise.”
Miguel looked into your pleading eyes and saw how badly you needed this. You’d been lying in a hospital bed for a few weeks now, after lying in your own bed at home for a few months. It wasn’t the greatest lifestyle, and how could he deny you something so simple? Two voices in his head fought against each other, one of them telling him that it was a terrible idea. The other one, however, assured him that you needed to get out and get some fresh air, because it’d be good for both you and your baby.
“Alright my love. Let’s go.”
You’d never been happier as you walked (waddled, more like) around the Spider Society with Miguel by your side. Ever the protective husband, he held your hand and kept you close, offering you any help around every 5 minutes.
Spider-People approached, gushed over your big baby bump, asked standard questions such as if you knew the gender, if you’d been thinking about names, and wishing you all the best in your pregnancy. Those who knew about your condition asked if the antidote had been working and offered to keep you company at the Medical Centre, which you gladly accepted.
Once you got to the cafeteria area, Miguel had to nearly physically restrain you, seeing as you almost ran to the empanada stall, claiming you were super hungry, and nothing except those godly cafeteria empanadas could soothe your craving.
“We’ll get you one, but you need to sit down,” Miguel said, placing his hands on your shoulders.
“Look at that line! Miggy, they’ll be out of empanadas before we get there! We need to hurry!” You huffed.
Miguel chuckled and kissed your forehead, before leading you to a nearby table.
“Sit here and I’ll bring you the empanada. Okay?”
You nodded eagerly and waited for your husband to return.
After a while, Miguel came back, holding a few boxes – he wasn’t going to risk it. He knew you, and if you said you craved one empanada, what you actually meant was I’m craving a whole bunch of them. He noticed the small crowd that had gathered around you and had half a mind to send them all away, before he noticed who they were.
“I’m so glad you’re doing better, [Y/N].” Gwen Stacy said.
“Yeah – you got us all worried, you know?” Miles replied.
You smiled, having grown very fond of the kids. In a way, you saw them as your own children.
“Thank you. I’m getting better now – all thanks to Miguel. He’s a genius. Oh! Speak of the devil!” You reached out your hands and Miguel promptly handed you one of the empanada bags. You squealed in delight and opened the bag, wasting no time in sinking your teeth into it.
“Hmm – this is so good,” you groaned, mouth full (earning a side glance from Miguel). You finished chewing your bite and cleaned your mouth, and then turned to him. “Thank you, honey. Gosh, I really missed these.”
Gwen and Miles chuckled as they watched you chew on your empanada contentedly, and Miguel silently thanked whoever was watching over him for this moment. He felt normal for once. Just a husband taking care of his wife’s cravings and watching as she appeared to glow.
Things had been bad for a while, but thankfully, they were getting better. You were getting better.
“Miguel! Miguel, look!” Gwen shouted, breaking him out of his trance and pointing at you. He turned his head, eyebrows furrowed in confusion, and that’s when he saw you.
The empanada had been forgotten and dropped on the floor, and you were panting, out of breath. One of your hands was placed on your stomach, the other was holding onto the bench for support.
“[Y/N]!” Miguel was immediately by your side, looking at you and accessing what was happening.
“Shit – shit, it hurts, Miggy. It hurts so much!” Tears were streaming down your cheeks, and a pained expression overtook your face. Before he could ask you what specifically hurt, you were letting out a horrifying scream and falling on the floor. Miguel’s reflexes were quicker and you instead fell on his lap, where he cradled you tightly against him.
You screamed and shrieked, Spider-People all around you stopping to glance at what was happening. Pavitr kneeled next to you in panic, holding your hand and encouraging you to squeeze it tightly, which you did (let it be known that he took it like a champ, focusing on you rather than on the pain you caused him). You turned to Miggy and sobbed, trying to explain what you felt, the way he always told you to do whenever you hurt.
Unfortunately, the pain was far too much to endure, and every two words from you were interrupted by ear-piercing wails.
Miguel didn’t want to leave you. Not at all. He wasn’t going to leave you alone while you suffered and cried in his arms. But he needed to get to his lab as soon as possible, and he couldn’t do that with you. He couldn’t possibly risk hurting you.
In a split second, he made a decision he never thought he’d ever make in his life.
“Peter, Hobie, Pavitr, take [Y/N] back to the Medical Centre.”
“Miguel, no – “ you sobbed, clutching onto his suit.
“Mi vida, I need to go to my lab and reach your files – “
“No – “ You flashed a thousand colours in front of him. Chunky blocks of colour replaced your figure and rearranged it repeatedly. You felt lightweight in his arms, and his heart sunk at the realisation. He’d felt this weight before, held it as its colours sparked dimmer and dimmer.
You were glitching. Again.
Panic overtook him, clouding his judgement.
Shock. What was he going to do? Why were you glitching? He’d stopped giving you that patch of antidote he’d gotten from another universe. Hell, he’d promised never to return there after you’d glitched the first time.
So, what in the world was causing this?
“Miguel?”
Why were you suffering?
“Miguel?”
Hadn’t you suffered enough? Was this the world’s cruel way of punishing him?
“Miguel!”
It was Peter B.’s voice that brought him back to reality.
“We need to get her to the Medical Centre. You go to your lab and find a cure. Now.”
Miguel didn’t need to be told twice. He held you tightly one more time, kissed your forehead when your frame stopped sparkling, and all but ran to his lab.
Once he got there, Lyla flickered in front of him, pixelated eyes widening in fear.
“Miguel!”
He looked up and saw as she returned to his keyboard and pointed at the screen.
“The Essence Cells are causing a temporal instability in [Y/N]’s physiology.” She exclaimed, typing away.
Miguel huffed; face contorted in anger. “I thought you said this was safe, you said the worst that could happen – “
“I had no idea this would happen! Miguel, it wasn’t supposed to! But it’s too late for that, we need to work on a cure.” Lyla appeared in front of the screen and urgently pointed at it. “[Y/N]’s sense of time is becoming warped. She might be experiencing moments from different timelines, different realities. It’s as if the Essence Cells are opening windows to parallel words within her. But this wasn’t supposed to happen. [Y/N] hasn’t been exposed to any other dimensions or universes. Ever. Not before, not during her pregnancy. This is completely unexpected.”
Lyla’s words sunk in.
She hasn’t been exposed to any other dimensions or universes.
“Mierda,” he whispered, nearly collapsing on her knees.
Lyla knew what that expression meant. She knew what that voice meant, and she did not like it one bit.
“Miguel…?” she asked tentatively. “What have you done…?”
He shook his head and glanced at his hands. Was it his fault then? Was this all his fault? Perhaps if he hadn’t given you that foreign antidote, you’d be fine now. The Essence Cells would do their job, and you wouldn’t be suffering. It’s all his fault.
“Miguel, tell me what you’ve done, now. The quicker we know what the problem is, the better we can deal with it!”
“I… I travelled to another dimension…” he mumbled; voice numb. “It was a few months ago, I… I was desperate and reached out to another me, a better me… He gave me this antidote, said it wouldn’t fail… Lyla, I was desperate – I didn’t want to lose [Y/N]! I didn’t know what else to do!” When Miguel finally looked up, Lyla could see he was crying.
His next words carried all the heartbreak he felt, and even with no feelings, Lyla felt something resembling a heart breaking inside of her.
“I didn’t want to lose her, Lyla. I was desperate. It’s all my fault now, isn’t it?”
Yes, it was, but Lyla was not about to tell that to her clearly very disturbed boss. Instead, she did what she did best.
She got to work.
“You’re an idiot, Miguel O’Hara,” she sighed in exasperation before taking a deep breath. “But you already know that. Now, stand up and stop moping around. Your wife and child need your help.”
Miguel looked up at her, like a lost puppy being offered a home.
“Do you want to save your wife or not? Get up and let’s work!”
Something switched inside of Miguel. Maybe it was the way Lyla did not hold him accountable, maybe it was the determination in her voice, but one thing was for sure: he was going to save you, no matter what.
“Alright.” He stood up, making his way to his work bench in two strides. “What do we need to do?”
“We need to recalibrate the Essence Cells – tweak their energy signatures. If we can stabilize Mary’s temporal fluctuations, maybe we can minimize these glimpses into alternate realities.”
“More Essence Cells aren’t the solution – they’re making everything worse. The Essence Cells must still be reacting to whatever remnants of the other antidote still remain in her body. She hasn’t glitched in a while, so maybe they’re dying out, but I can’t risk it. We can’t.” Miguel mumbled, scribbling over more papers, and comparing them.
“Okay, what about changing our approach?”
“We’ve done that before, Lyla, and it didn’t work, and [Y/N] is in pain, and – “
“Stop being so stubborn and listen to me!” Lyla yelled. “Remember to keep your heart out of this – you’re a scientist, remember? Be logical. Instead of amplifying, we need to anchor. Maybe the Essence Cells are intensifying the glimpses because they’re acting like amplifiers. We introduced them to strengthen her defences, remember? They’re amplifying her immune system. Maybe we need something more stable.”
Miguel nodded. She was right. He needed to remain clear-headed – panicking would not do. Logic and reason would help him. “You might be right – but what could possibly anchor these fluctuations without harming her? Lyla, we’ve tried about everything.”
Lyla chewed on her little pixelated pencil.
She flickered all around the lab, appearing and disappearing in front of papers. She scanned some and left others alone. She organised all the information that proved to be relative, before pasting it to Miguel’s computer.
“Of course!” She cried out. “How did I not thing of this before?”
“What? What is it?” ´
“Miguel, your blood!” Lyla appeared in front of him, nodding so vigorously, her heart-shaped glasses fell off. “It carries your genes, doesn’t it? If we use a controlled amount of your blood, we might be able to create an antidote that stabilizes the Essence Cells, anchoring [Y/N]’s experience to a single reality!”
Miguel frowned. He hadn’t thought about using his blood. In his head, it meant he’d be injecting some more of the same genes that were hurting you in your body.
“I don’t understand. How could my blood possibly work?”
“Your blood contains the original genetic code we’re trying to counteract. By introducing it in a carefully measured way, we can neutralize the amplifying effect of the Essence Cells – “
“And stabilize [Y/N]’s physiology.”
“Exactly! And that’s not the only thing – with your blood, we can create an antidote that not only stabilises her condition, but also creates a protective barrier around the baby!”
“My genes were what got us in this whole mess in the first place,” Miguel mumbled. “But perhaps by using it, we can design the antidote to shield the baby from the harmful aspects of her glitching, while still allowing the natural and healthy development of their unique traits. My unique traits. Lyla, you’re a genius!” Miguel shouted, swinging towards another one of his work benches, this one filled with vials and needles.
“I know, I know. But say it one more time, just to make sure you mean it!”
A few members of the Spider Society gushed and worried about you, refusing to leave your side. Pavitr still held your hand, even though his was turning purple and getting numb. Gwen slowly petted your head, keeping you grounded by telling you stories and anecdotes about her day. Hobie was trying his best too – he had a soft spot for you and tried to make you laugh every few minutes, just to make sure you were okay.
The glitching had stopped for a while, but not completely. You thought of them as contractions that took longer and longer to come as time went by. Just where the hell was your sweet Miguel?
Almost as if answering your prayers, he burst in the room, holding a needle in his hand. Everyone immediately got out of his way, and he kneeled next to you. He pressed a soft kiss on your forehead and scanned your face for any further injuries, which you did not seem to have. Good. If all went according to plan, you wouldn’t feel any pain any longer.
“I’m here, mi vida, I’m here.” He whispered softly, guiding your arm towards his chest.
“Miggy, it hurts,” you whispered back, dry tears staining your lovely cheeks. He kissed each, before settling the needle on top of your skin. “I don’t want it to hurt again, please don’t….”
“I know, my love, I know. But I have to do this.” Miguel placed his forehead against yours. “It’ll stop. I promise, it’ll stop. You’ve been so brave up until now, haven’t you? You’ve been so brave for our child. It’ll be so lucky to call you mother.”
“Gabriel.” You nodded, trying not to tear up again.
“Yeah, Gabriel. He’ll be so lucky to call you his mother.” Miguel wiped the sweat out of your brow, slowly pushing the needle inside of you. You winced in pain and shrieked, back arching off the bed as the baby inside you stirred and stirred. Miguel ignored your cries and pushed through. You needed this, you needed this antidote, because this one would work. After so many failed attempts, this was the antidote patch that would finally work.
Miguel wasn’t quite sure what he’d do if it did not.
He prayed to whoever deity was up there, and watched as you slowly regained your breath and laid down on the hospital bed once more. Your posture was relaxed, calm. It was as if a big weight was lifted off your body.
“My love?” Miguel asked, brushing some strands off hair from your face. “How are you feeling?”
He was expecting any kind of reaction. Tears, screaming, silence.
Nothing prepared him for what happened next.
You started to laugh.
To laugh.
To truly laugh, after so long.
You giggled and giggled, hands reaching around your belly.
“I’m – I’m amazing, Miggy!” You laughed and looked at him, with tears in your eyes. But this time, they were tears of happiness. “I hadn’t felt this great since before I was pregnant!” You laughed again and nuzzled his nose with your own. You ignored everyone else in the room and smiled as your husband took your face in his hands and kissed your breath away. You responded with just as much fervour, stopping mid-kiss to chuckle. “I feel amazing, Miguel. Thank you. Thank you so much. You did it. I can feel it my love, you did it.”
Miguel let a few tears of relief roll down his cheeks. You kissed them away and invited him to place his hands on top of your belly.
“Can you feel it?”
Miguel raised an eyebrow.
“Not much. Are they supposed to be kicking?”
“No,” you smiled, shaking your head, “Not at all. He’s calmed down. All thanks to you.”
Miguel kneeled once again and smiled.
You were doing fine. You were well, and so was your baby.
Later, Spider-Doc would come to bring the results of your new analysis. The baby, even though still carried Miguel’s genes, now did so with stability. He was healthy and you were no longer glitching.
All was well.
Until you were dragged to the same hospital room a few weeks later.
Miguel doesn’t remember much.
It was honestly all very fuzzy.
All he does remember though, are a bunch of voices yelling at each other, and how he had refused to leave your side. Hell would freeze over before he even considered leaving you.
“[Y/N], we’re going to need you to push now, is that okay?” your delivery nurse (a Spider-Woman, since Miguel refused any other hospital to see you – after all, the Spider Society had the best doctors – and, well, best everythings.)
You nodded, sweat clinging to your whole body. Miguel was next to you, and you were holding his hand as tight as you could.
“C’mon mi amor, you can do this. You can do this, alright?”
“Mhm!” You whimpered.
“Ready? One, two, three – “
You screamed, pushing as hard as you possibly could. Your eyes were watery, and you were shaking your head repeatedly, begging for this torment to stop.
“One more time [Y/N], come on!” The nurse repeated, looking at you and nodding encouragingly.
“Uh-oh,” Spider-Doc blurted behind Miguel, which made the latter tense up immediately. Uh-Oh? What did he mean, Uh-oh?
“The baby’s oxygen levels are low; we may need to intervene.”
“What?” Miguel’s head turned in the doctor’s direction. “What’s happening? Doctor, what’s happening to my wife?! Tell me!”
Spider-Doc looked at the other doctors in the room, and they all nodded at the same time.
“Get him out of the room.”
“What?!”
“Miggy!” You cried, not letting go of his hand.
“Miguel, you need to leave right now, we can’t have you in here. You’ll just cause more complications, add stress to the doctors, and consequently, your wife.”
“Doc, with all due respect, there’s no way I’m going to abandon her when she needs me the most.”
That was the last thing Miguel said before the door’s room was slammed in his face.
Well. So much for never abandoning you.
“Pendejo de mierda…”
Miguel sat down, leaning his back against the wall, and staring at the ceiling. There was nothing he wanted more than to be in that room with you, holding your hand and promising you all was going to be fine. He was your husband, for shock’s sake. He wanted to protect you, and he sure as hell couldn’t do it from outside the room.
He turned his head and tried to listen to whatever noises might be coming from inside. The soundproof qualities of the hospital seemed to be proving useful, since he couldn’t make out a thing – which only made him even more nervous. What if you were scared? Panicked? What if you needed him? What if the doctors needed anything? Any information on your blood type, on your pregnancy? He had all these answers.
And most importantly, he wanted to be there for you.
After what seemed like an eternity, the door next to him opened ever so slightly.
Spider-Doc looked around, before settling his gaze on the ground next to him.
“Miguel?” he asked, to which the other man immediately stood up upon hearing.
“Yes? Is everything okay? How is my wife? Is everything okay?”
“Everything’s fine.” Spider-Doc smiled, opening the door more, and making way for Miguel could come through. “There were a few complications with the baby, namely, the umbilical cord was wrapped around the baby’s neck. That’s why the oxygen levels were low. Thankfully, we intervened at the right time. Your wife is fine, and so is your baby.”
Miguel sighed deeply in relief. The weight of the world had just been lifted off his shoulders. That’s all he wanted to hear.
“And, according to her, your presence is needed. Urgently.”
He did not wait a second before walking inside the room, looking around to access his surroundings. No one seemed to be panicking, there were no nervous nurses and doctors rushing about. And then he heard it.
The piercing cry that seemed to come from one of the extremities of the room.
He approached, carefully, almost as if scared. After all, he wasn’t sure of what he was going to find. But whatever he might’ve thought about, did not hold a candle to the real thing.
In the hospital bed next to him, were you, lying down. Your forehead was glistening with sweat and your breath was still evening out. Your eyes were red and puffy, and so were your lips, from all the tears you’d spilled. When you looked up at him, they sparkled again, threatening to water once more.
“Hey,” you whispered, meeting his eyes.
“Hey,” Miguel replied, staying still.
“Come meet your son,” you said and looked at the baby neatly bundled near your chest. Miguel stepped forward, and if his breath hadn’t been stolen before, it definitely was now.
Close to you, you held a tiny, tiny little baby. There were a few strands of curly brown hair on top of his head, and his eyes were closed, tiny fists closed in the same fashion. He wailed them around, shattering cries erupting from his throat. How come such a small baby could make so much noise?
You shushed him softly, caressing his cheek and whispering soothing words. The baby seemed to listen, because he became quietly right after, big, sparkling eyes coming to stare at you curiously.
“They’re yours,” Miguel nearly choked out, stepping forward. “Our baby has your eyes.”
You smiled at your husband and nodded, cooing at your child.
“He’s perfect, isn’t he?”
Miguel’s eyes widened.
“He?”
He could barely believe it.
“Told you. Maternal instinct is never wrong,” you chuckled, gushing at how your son held onto your finger as if it were his lifeline. “Would you like to hold him?”
Miguel nodded, and you carefully handed the baby to him. Big, bad, scary Miguel O’Hara was melting as he held his teeny tiny baby in his arms for the first time.
“Careful with the head,” you chided softly, to which he obliged.
Miguel stared at the baby in his arms. Well, more like the baby in his hands. He was so big; his hands almost covered his tiny body entirely. Miguel brought him close, smiling. The baby’s tiny lips were opened, eyes almost as if scrutinizing his father. Miguel chuckled at the sight – a few minutes old, and he was proving to be just like him already.
Miguel looked between the baby and you.
“Gabriel,” he whispered, searching for recognition in your eyes.
You granted him just that, accompanied by a smile.
“Gabriel. Little Gabriel O’Hara. He looks just like you, doesn’t he?”
Miguel nodded. He pulled up a chair and sat next to your bed, still holding little Gabriel. You reached out to him, tracing patterns on his arm.
“He’s perfect, [Y/N]. He’s just perfect. Thank you so much. I thought you’d given me the greatest gift I could’ve ever asked for when we first got married,” he took his eyes off Gabriel to glance at you. “But like always, you’ve managed to surprise me. You gave me a son.”
Your smile widened and used your free hand to caress the baby’s small head.
“I’m sorry I gave you so much trouble,” he continued, voice dropping in agony. “If it weren’t for me… If it weren’t for these bloody genes…”
“Shh – don’t say another word.”
“[Y/N], please, you must know – “
“I won’t hear it.” You looked at him directly in his eyes. Those lovely, lovely brown eyes that you loved waking up to, and had sometimes even fantasized about your son inheriting. “I love you, Miguel. All of you. And I would do it all again if it meant I got to have you and our son right here, right now. You were right, it all worked out. Everything is fine. I have you, and I have our son. Our little Gabriel. And everything’s going to be alright.”
Miguel teared up himself.
Had this been his reward? What had he done to ever deserve you? Whatever it was, he was forever grateful.
He gazed down upon his son, who seemed to have fallen asleep. Gabriel’s dark eyelashes rested peacefully on top of his cheeks, and his pouty lips were slightly parted. He was perfect. Perfect in every way. He looked every bit like himself – but there was a soften on his features that reminded him of him.
“He seems so peaceful. You can’t fool me you little rascal, I know the troubles you caused your mother. You’ll pay for it someday,” Miguel joked, earning a giggle from you.
“He’s every bit like his father then. You’ve gotten me some troubles yourself, mister.”
“That I have.”
You two remained like this, in silence, for a few minutes, basking in this beautiful moment. It had been a rocky road, but you’d made it. Here you were, still standing, safe and sound. And here was your little Gabriel, resting peacefully on his arms.
Everything was right as it should be.
“I love you.” Miguel spoke. There were no words to describe what he was feeling now, but he thought this was a good way to start. “I love you so much. I love you and our son and our little family. Thank you so much for all you’ve done for me.”
“I love you too Miguel. And our son.” You smiled. Shock, you looked marvellous. You always looked beautiful, and he was sure he’d never seen you look so beautiful first when you got married, then on your wedding night, and then the day you told him you were pregnant. But right here, right now – this was the most beautiful he’d ever seen you.
“I’ll take care of you two forever, mi vida. Te lo prometo. I’ll be by your side until the end of time.” He reached out to wrap an arm around you, bringing you as close to his body as he could without hurting you.
Miguel had always been a truthful man.
But right now, as he held the entire world in both his arms, he swore he had never been so truthful as he pledged his undying love for you and Gabriel.
“You saved me, Miguel.” You mumbled, turning your face away from your son to look him in the eye. “You were my antidote after all.”
Miguel shook his head, kissing your forehead. You were terribly corny – a trait he found immensely charming in you.
“And you were mine.”
Everything was just fine.
Miguel had you, and his son.
He had you and Gabriel.
Everything was perfect.
A/N: And that's it! That's the ending! I hope that you guys liked it, and that it lived up to your expectations. I definitely missed writing for Miggy! My requests are open, so feel free to send in any ideas you might have for him! I'm excited to see what you guys have in mind!
Anyway, thank you all, and I hope you have a wonderful day ahead!
Taglist
@tarjapearce , @estella-satn , @meganswife , @cold-blooded-girls , @marcswife21 , @edgycatx
#miguel o'hara x reader#miguel o'hara x y/n#miguel o'hara x you#miguel o'hara#miguel o'hara fanfiction#miguel o'hara x fem!reader#miguel ohara#miguel ohara x you#miguel ohara x reader#atsv x reader#atsv x you#across the spiderverse#across the spiderverse fanfiction#spiderverse x reader#spiderverse fanfiction
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A few weeks after #MeToo exploded on the internet, an old friend and I did what so many women did during that time: We got on the phone and finally began to acknowledge what had happened to us. My friend shared a story of hers from college. Back then, we’d all just considered it a “bad date,” but she now recognized it as sexual assault. She also shared that at nearly every single job she’s had since college, a boss or co-worker has sexually harassed her.
The month before our conversation, I had published an essay sharing my own experience of sexual assault while traveling abroad. Like my friend, it was not my only experience—it was one of many. But I’d only included the one, because in the early stages of #MeToo, the idea of sharing one assault story still felt risky. The idea of sharing more than one felt culturally impossible. My friend agreed.
“As a woman, you’re only allowed one #MeToo moment,” she told me. “After that, people begin assuming the problem must be you.”
Out of the many celebrity #MeToo stories told in the past five years, only a handful have acknowledged the experience of multiple assaults. In an HBO documentary, Alanis Morisette spoke about repeated incidents of statuatory rape that happened when she first entered the music industry, all of which “fell on deaf ears” when she tried seeking accountability. In her memoir, Selma Blair wrote about a teacher who sexually assaulted her, as well as the many men who raped her in her 20s. In an interview with Dazed, Amber Rose said, “I cannot even count how many times a famous guy touched me inappropriately.” On a social media post during the Kavanaugh hearings, Tatum O’Neal wrote about her multiple assaults: “It was not my fault when I was 5, 6, 12, 13, 15.”
Stories that emphasize the ubiquitous nature of assault are vital in a world that so often focuses on one dramatic episode, with visceral details of the violation and an easily identifiable villain. This amplifies the false idea that assault is just a singular, horrifying incident—when in reality, many of us experience it as part of a larger, more insidious culture.
Once a person is assaulted, research shows they’re more likely to be assaulted again, a phenomenon called “revictimization.” Around 50 percent of children who survive sexual assault reexperience it later in life, and even a single incident of sexual assault in adulthood can increase the risk for it to happen again. As psychologist A.E. Jaffe and her colleagues wrote in a 2019 paper on revictimization: “Perhaps the most consistent predictor of future trauma exposure is a history of prior trauma exposure.”
Why would this be? In lieu of a good answer for it (more on that in a moment), we often blame victims themselves. We easily justify these statistics by suggesting that anyone who has survived multiple incidents of violence must be asking for it—either by acting promiscuously, hanging around too many shady men, or getting themselves into precarious situations. One survivor I interviewed told me that though she received some form of victim-blaming in response to all three sexual assaults she experienced, she noticed a stark decrease in support each time it happened again.
“After the second and third, some people began saying, ‘What’s happening in your life to attract that?’ or ‘Do you have enough awareness to know when men want to harm you?’ ” she told me. “One person even asked why I was ‘trusting men so much.’ ” Another friend who experienced multiple assaults went through a similar line of questioning, only with herself. “After so many times, I began asking myself, ‘What is it about me that brings on these experiences?’ ” she said. I told her I ask myself that question all the time.
In his essay “Spectator” for Roxane Gay’s anthology on sexual assault stories, Not That Bad, Brandon Taylor wrote about his best friend telling him she was beginning to think she was “just the kind of person this stuff happens to.” For a long time, that’s what I believed, too. As a travel writer and a single bisexual woman, I figured that at some point, I’d pay the price. Eventually, I’d have to face some element of physical harm—wasn’t that the obvious trade-off for attempting a liberated life? To me, survivorship—more than resilience, bravery, or strength—often felt like resignation.
But in some cases, it’s exactly that resignation that influences repeat assaults. While there’s no conclusive evidence as to why revictimization happens, we do know that normalizing assault can contribute to future harm. If a survivor has not internalized their experience as exceptionally traumatic, they are less likely to advocate for themselves, or demand accountability if it happens again. If they, like me, accept violence as an obvious fact of their lives, then when it repeats, they don’t seek the support they need to process and heal from each experience.
In an article for Psychology Today, psychotherapist and clinical social worker Keith Fadelici called this a “cognitive accommodation to ongoing violence.” The trauma continuously gets downplayed as victims attempt to normalize their assaults, which helps them feel more in control. “This dissociative process is a common symptom of PTSD,” Fadelici told me. “And can also later make survivors less capable of detecting risk by numbing the fear that is supposed to trigger alertness to danger.”
Oppression also plays a significant role. Those with marginalized identities are more at risk for experiencing assault in general, and thus more likely to experience it again. LGBTQ+ people are four times more likely to be assaulted than the general population (bisexual women and trangender people also are far more likely to experience assault than gay men and lesbian women). Rates of sexual assault for Indigenous women are three times higher than non-Indigenous women, and Black women are much more likely to experience assault than white women. Neurodivergent people are 11 times more likely than neurotypical people to be victims of violent crimes.
“If this is coming up repeatedly with one individual, it might be because that person is within systems and structures that facilitate assault more often,” said Jaffe. For those of us living with any of these identities, we normalize violence because living under oppression is consistently violent. In order to survive, a “cognitive accommodation to ongoing violence” is necessary. We train ourselves to get used to it, and move on.
After #MeToo, I began reading and rereading the legal definitions for rape and sexual assault to make sense of what had happened to me. Any sexual contact that occurred without consent constitutes assault? Any sexual contact that included penetration without the other person’s consent constitutes rape? The criteria felt almost too easy. Under these standards, I had been raped twice, and assaulted several other times—all stories I had not yet fully internalized, and was not yet ready to tell. Dozens of legal crimes had been committed against my body, but that idea felt so unfathomable I hardly knew what to do next.
In the three years after publishing that first story, I experienced more incidents, and I still don’t know what to call them. I don’t feel comfortable firmly declaring them as “assault.” I don’t like how it connects so deeply with an oppressive legal system, and how it automatically connotes some excessive form of violence. Even today, it seems too strong and rough a word for how these episodes played out: often with little physicality, with only brief conflict and polite turns toward quick forgiveness, until weeks later when I’d unpack the severity of what had happened. As I began sharing more of these stories with close friends, I would catch myself saying “technically” before saying “I was assaulted,” acknowledging the semantic disconnect I still felt. This hesitation is common among many survivors: As one 2019 meta-analysis showed, rates of victimization increase when participants are asked “behaviorally descriptive questions” about what happened to them, rather than questions that use terms like “rape” and “assault.”
Sometimes, people ask “How many times all together?” I say “six-ish,” a number that captures the amount of experiences that have dramatically changed the way I relate to my body—how it experiences intimacy, how it engages with the world: The one that happened at work, just weeks into my first job out of college. The one at a festival in India. The one while getting a deep-tissue massage. The one at a New York play party. The one so common I learned it has its own name (“stealthing“). The one with a lover I had loved and trusted deeply. The one with another lover, a violation that was not sexual but physical and thus, as yet another nonconsensual act done against my body, still felt so connected to all the rest.
And this still does not take into account every time I was nonconsensually touched in public—the men who pulled and grabbed my arms, my back, my butt, my shoulders to try to get my attention on the street—nor the times I’ve been followed, harassed, physically threatened by strangers on the street.
The accumulation of more and more of these events creates a compounding impact, one where each additional incident begins to amplify the ones before. For me and most survivors I spoke to, we are not healing from trauma—we are learning how to exist in a world where trauma continues to accumulate.
Every survivor I interviewed for this piece told me they fully accept the potential that they’ll experience assault in the future. Still, most of them admitted to me that it’s still easier to only share just one story with the world—never the full range of what has happened to them. “When you only have one story, the enemy is the rapist,” one survivor told me. “But when you have several people with a lifetime of these experiences, the enemy is all of us.”
This is what we mean when we talk about rape culture. The first thing we can do to start to dismantle it is to recognize what we’re up against.
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I really like your posts about nature and plants. I live in a big city, and I would like to be more connected with the natural world around me, as limited as it may be. I wanted to ask if you might have any advice. So far I know a good portion of the types of trees, wildflowers, and birds. And I like to visit the parks and public gardens. But I would love to take steps to learn even more. What would you suggest? Thank you for your time :)
Once you know what some of the plants and animals are, you are in a good place to pay attention to what they do. What they teach. Their ways, their work. That sounds fanciful. It's not—they are not objects, things, they are creatures. Even plants have ways of living and growing, responding to their environment, and belonging to a community.
Pay attention to the plants that no one planted—the plants that popped up on their own. Pay attention to where they thrive and where they struggle. When you see a sad and frail plant, ask why is it sad? When you see a flourishing plant, ask the reasons for its success. Pay attention to their behavior.
This one creeps across the ground like a shaggy rug, and this one shoots up tall and straight. What does this mean?
When you see a plant growing in an unusual place, ask, How did it get here? Maybe it was the wind? Maybe it was water, or a bird?
Consider first the plants you see everywhere, in cracks in the pavement and in the seams between brick pavers. The brave dandelion, the tenacious goosegrass, the low-creeping spurge, perhaps. Maybe say hello. I say hello to plants. Become familiar with where they grow, their companions, and what hardships do them harm.
It takes repetition to notice how many living things are around you. Look again—there are more plants in the shoulder of the road or the little neglected patch of mulch than you could see before! (Hello, hello, hello, hello. Hello! hello!)
You will start to realize things. It will seem to fall out of the sky into your head. The apparent randomness of the plants that grow in the neglected places disappears. There is an elegance to the ways of weeds: some arrive first, and some come after their companions; some tolerate the harsh baking sun and some cling to shady crevices; some are found in only a specific place...and some are surprises you never would have expected.
Look closely at patches of grass and roadsides and parks, and sooner or later it will happen: Oh. That's not a weed or a wildflower...that's a baby tree.
I got started with growing plants by gently pulling them up from pavement at the shoulder of the road in my neighborhood. It took two months to figure out how to help them survive. The method I worked out was to punch holes in the bottom of red solo cups and use them as pots, keeping them outside in the shade of the Virginia creeper vine, elevated about 2 inches above the porch on some metal shelves I fished out of the trash. Their roots need to be moist, but they can't be soggy—good drainage is vital. I like to mix sand and half-rotted leaves in with their potting mix.
The red solo cup is about as small as you can go without exposing the roots to too much temperature and moisture change. You should not get the plant's leaves dirty or wet if at all possible—bring transplanted is quite a shock, and you can introduce rot and sickness at such a delicate time.
You don't have to grow any plants for yourself, but it is awfully tempting, because for the most part, no one can stop you. That's the thing that was so life-changing to me. Even in a highly controlled human environment, even amidst traffic, extreme conditions, and herbicides, the plants have not given up on us.
I didn't start in the woods, I started on the side of the road, paying attention to the tiny seedlings that were trying to return my home to forest. It was in the world of pavement and lawns that my first major realizations came—oh. Nature is on our side, fighting back. Nature has not left us. They are so brave and so, so tough, and we can take care of them.
And it is true that the diversity and robustness of the forest or the grassland or the bog or the canebrake is incredible compared to the human world, and it makes me sad how few of those incredible living things can survive close to our inconsiderate ways...but the straggling weeds and brave seedlings that emerge are typically here because they are the pioneer species. They are the first: they are adapted to begin the healing after destruction. Admire them for their bravery and aggression. I admire even the kudzu and Bradford pear, even though I also feel sorry for them and the other invasive species as I rip them out of the ground. It's like someone in a zombie movie pulling the trigger on a loved one who has turned, except the monster is even more clearly a result of our own folly.
I could write forever about this, but your journey is your own. Listen to them and they will show you. Behave contrary to the expectations of our world; view other life forms as your neighbors instead of mere objects.
This is the way to unlock the shackles of helplessness. You may think to yourself: Our world is dying, and I can't do anything to help. But you are not alone.
Notice, notice, notice how many more living things can live in the presence of a single tree, how the unkempt areas shelter and protect life. Notice where life is and where it thrives.
And you, a human, can be a caretaker too, protecting life where it reaches out to you. Oaks give you acorns and flowers give you seeds, trusting forces beyond their control to bring them to places where they can thrive. Wildflowers grow in the grass, asking nothing from us except mercy.
Hello Yarrow, who dressed the wounds of Achilles. Hello Dandelion, who resists annihilation, food for insects and humans. Hello Virginia Creeper, who shades my window, shelters my saplings from the sun, and feeds birds on their migration. Hello Pokeweed, giving us your brilliant pinks and purples as dyes, desperate food of the poor and enslaved. Hello American Burnweed, who sequesters atmospheric nitrogen polluting the air. Hello Frost Aster, breaker of cycles, surviving roadsides and lawns, blooming at the first frost with incredible abundance to feed the butterflies and bees. Hello Horseweed, first to evolve resistance to Roundup. Hello Crabgrass, ruiner of lawns, brought here by enslaved people as food.
The pioneer species make shelter for the others. They shade the ground, their scrubby growth catches the leaves and gathers them to rot over the winter, and their roots and dense foliage hold the slowly building topsoil in place and keep it moist. They are weeds, tough as nails and twice as mean. Many are useful, edible, medicinal.
Where plants grow without being planted, that is a sign that the ecosystem we are part of still works to restore it. We do not have to save the world all by ourselves. We have help. The rest of Nature has not abandoned us.
There is no clearly defined answer. It is a journey and a conversation. Listen, pay attention, ask questions of even the humblest little moss and bug and flower. They will teach you.
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Get Your Shit Together - Extra; a section of a DTS Episode.
Masterlist | Part 1
genre: 2024 Season AU
pairing: there will be romance but I haven't finalised who yet. platonic! oc x literally the whole grid.
warnings: lots swearing, major car accident, mentions of broken bones, blood and hospitals. A lot of shit happens.
context: Sadie, a 20 year old university student from Melbourne, decided to take a gap year and volunteer at 2 Formula One races in different countries.
Sadie's Faceclaim: Maia Mitchell (but you can visualise her however you want :) )
comments: READ CHAPTER FOUR BEFORE READING THIS. This is an extra and is not actually thaaaat vital to the story. I just know if this happened irl, DTS would 100% make an entire episode on it. This is gonna be so strange to write because DTS is a visual format but imma try for the cool perspective. You’re gonna need a good imagination.
*Drive to Survive theme and intro*
WILL BUXTON: Silverstone, the home of formula one.
LANDO NORRIS: It’s one of my favourite tracks, I love the support we get there.
BUXTON: Our hearts were in our mouths, in 2024. The title fight was ramping up!
CHARLES LECLERC: It was close.
CARLOS SAINZ: We were fighting, but it was horrific race.
BUXTON: It ended in shambles.
OSCAR PIASTRI: I mean, I was out in lap, 5 I think, it might’ve been 6.
BUXTON: No one expected five DNF’s.
LEWIS HAMILTON: I don’t know how it happened.
BUXTON: Let alone Lando’s accident.
NORRIS: I don’t remember much.
BUXTON: or the Mystery Medic.
*dramatic pause*
BUXTON: It was incredible, in a morbid way.
NORRIS: I was panicking
*onboard footage of moments after the crash, with radio subtitles*
NORRIS *onboard radio*: MY ANKLE, **** MY FOOT!
BUXTON: First, they catch Lando as he falls from the halo. He is in pain, and at one point you can hear him scream.
*onboard footage of the Mystery Medic catching Lando as he falls from the halo*
NORRIS: I knew it was my ankle or my foot. I’d never been in so much pain.
BUXTON: The medic starts to, essentially drag, Lando towards a safe section of the barrier. We could see that it was bad. We could see how much was relying on them and leaning on them, considering that he was taller than the medic.
PIASTRI: We could see that he wasn’t even letting it touch the ground.
NORRIS: “Keep it off the ground,” they told me. They didn’t have to, I was in too much pain anyway.
BUXTON: Then Sergio Perez approaches the accident.
TOTO WOLFF: There was debris everywhere, McLaren and Mercedes.
SERGIO PEREZ: I still do not know how I did not see it.
NORRIS: I didn’t know until I was on a stretcher.
BUXTON: You can see, if you watch the replay you can see, the moment the Mystery Medic hears Checo’s car.
*footage of the Mystery Medic turning their head towards the track*
BUXTON: Put the moment into slow motion, and you can see them make the choice.
*footage of the Mystery Medic putting both hands on Lando’s waist and switching to his right side*
BUXTON: To put yourself between a driver and a Formula One car? That’s either incredibly brave or incredibly stupid.
HAMILTON: Brave.
WOLFF: Stupid.
BUXTON: Either way, I don’t think Drive to Survive can show what happened.
*footage of Perez’s Red Bull striking black and papaya debris*
BUXTON: The medic barely stumbled.
NORRIS: If I hadn’t have seen it afterwards, I wouldn’t have known. I don’t remember it happening.
BUXTON: It was horrifying! They were walking, and almost carrying Lando, with a piece of debris in their thigh.
NORRIS: I’ve watched the replay. It was headed straight for me.
BUXTON: Watching it live was… it was awful! But you couldn’t look away.
*footage of everyone in the McLaren garage watching screens with various expressions of terror*
BUXTON: You had to know if they were going to make it.
NORRIS: They saved my life. Racing is my life, and if that debris had hit my leg? We don’t know what damage it could have done.
BUXTON: But there’s a reason we call them the Mystery Medic, and it may be a feat just as incredible. They did the impossible.
*seperate shots of Sir Lewis Hamilton and Max Verstappen placed side by side*
BUXTON: Lewis and Max worked together. They put their rivalry aside and worked together to keep the Mystery Medic a secret and we have no idea why.
MAX VERSTAPPEN and HAMILTON *in unison*: I’m not going to comment on that.
BUXTON: We don’t know their name. We don’t know who they are, where they’re from, or how they’re doing now.
*another dramatic pause*
BUXTON: It’s like they never existed.
#f1#f1 fic#formula 1#formula one#max verstappen#lando norris#f1 x oc#f1 imagine#lewis hamilton#will buxton
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If you're from Argentina, you've probably heard about the Iberá wetlands, and you know the tourist pitch: a vast expanse of natural wonders in the middle of Corrientes, full of beautiful lapachos, cute carpinchos and yacarés, and now home to the fastest-growing wild yaguareté population, all with the unique Guaraní influenced culture of rural Corrientes.
Now, things aren't as shiny as they look, since the creation and management of the new national park is still a point of contention in many ways, but you will be suprised that this kind of thinking about the Iberá is very, very recent. Most people considered it an obstacle to progress, a big bunch of swamp in the middle of what could be a very productive ranching province. In a geography book from the 1910s (unfortunately I lost the screencap) it says something like "the biggest obstacle for the development of the province is this swamp, and it should be drained"
This took me to the other side of the world, to the Netherlands. They're known for land reclamation, from literally building their country from the sea. Especially when we're facing rising sea levels because of climate change, the Dutch seem like miracle workers, a look into our future. You will find no shortage of praise about how with some windmills and dams, the Dutch took land "from the sea", and turned it into quaint little polders, making a tiny country in Europe a food exporter and don't they look so nice? But when you look about it, you can barely find anything about what came before those polders. You have to dig and dig to find any mentions of not "sea", but of complex tidal marshes and wetlands, things I've learned are ecologically diverse and protected in many places, but you won't find people talking about that at all when talking about the Netherlands. It's all just polders now. What came before was useless swamp, or a sea to be triumphantly conquered. It's like they were erased from history
The use of that language reminded me of the failed vision of draining Iberá... and the triumphing vision in the Netherlands, and many other places. Maybe those wonderful places, those unique wetlands, would have been a footnote, you wouldn't find anything unless you were a bored ecologist who looked, and not even then. Now, far it be from me to accuse the medieval Dutch, who wanted to have more space to farm, of ecocide. And don't think this is going to be a rant against European ecological imperialism either, as the most anthropized places you can find are actually in China and India. But it does get me thinking.
I work with the concept of landscape, and landscape managing. (Not landscaping, those guys get better paid than me) The concept of landscape is somewhat similar to the concept of ecosystem you know from basic biology, but besides biotic and abiotic factors, you also have to involve cultural factors, that is, humans. There is not a single area of "pristine" untouched nature in the world, that is a myth. Humans have managed these landscapes for as long as they have lived in them. The Amazon, what many people think about when they think about "unspoilt" nature, has a high proportion of domesticated plants growing on it, which were and are still used by the people who live on it, and there once were great civilizations thriving on it. Forests and gardens leave their mark, so much that we can use them to find abandoned settlements. From hunter-gatherers tending and preserving the species vital to their survival in the tundra to engineers in Hong-Kong creating new islands for airports, every human culture has managed their natural resources, creating a landscape.
And this means these landscapes we enjoy are not natural creations. They are affected by natural enviroments; biomes do exist, species have a natural distribution. But they are created and managed by humans. Humans who decide what is valuable to them and what is not. The Dutch, seemingly, found the tidal marshes useless, and they created a new landscape, which changed the history of their nation forever. We here in modern Argentina changed our perception of Iberá, decided to take another approach, and now we made it a cherished part of our heritage, which will also speak about us in the future.
Ultimately, what is a useless swamp to be drained or a beautiful expanse of nature to be cherished depends in our culture, in us humans. We are the ones who manage and change ecosystems based in our economics, our culture, our society. This will become increasingly important, as climate change and ecological degradation becomes harsher and undeniable. We will have to decide what nature is worth to us. Think about what is it worth to you.
#I REALLY had to restrain myself not to make a football joke about the netherlands#cosas mias#ecology#biology#culture#cultural landscapes
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Reading Barrayar I felt trapped in Cordelia’s head. It’s incredibly effective for the dread of war as a civilian. Plans and machinations happening beyond you, with no input. Hearing of things happening that seem far off and like yeah that’s awful but then suddenly it dominoes in a way that destroy your life and it’s not your fault and you could've done nothing at all to prevent it. Especially the tension of being hunted in the Dendarii mountains with no idea how the war is going, if they’ve already lost, if it is already too late. Cordelia is doing actively important things in service of the war by sheltering Gregor, yet there's this pervasive feeling of helpless lack of control. She spends most of the book with this dread of not knowing when the next threat to their family will come, and I don’t think it could’ve been done so effectively if we had access to the information Aral had. I found it frustrating at times, since it felt like Cordelia was swept up in events with little agency (at first; obviously our dear captain didn’t remain there). I wanted so badly to be with Aral seeing and knowing and making the decisions.
But that’s the point! Most people have absolutely zero agency in those situations and little information and it’s terrifying. Barrayar captures the feeling of being a civilian in war where so many narratives narrow in upon the heroes and 'men of history' that control conflicts. That's what readers expect. I think that’s why I loved the ending so much. After so long trapped with Cordelia, just trying to survive the larger machinations of Barrayar’s bloody politics, it felt so, so good to finally be on the offensive, to have information the opponents don’t, to finally have power and the means to control what happens. It's a relief to the constant tension of having no agency in a giant conflict that frankly Cordelia had no business being affect by, yet was swept up in because of her love of Aral.
Which is the second thing I deeply enjoyed in Barrayar. I love how the war is made so human. A messy tangle of human relationships control it. I can’t stop thinking about the hostages. There are just so many children being used because the war holds the future hostage. Tiny precious Miles utterly incapable of comprehending how large a pawn he is. Young grieving Gregor vital to the plans of both sides whether dead or alive. Elena, who should be of no importance but she is because that's the kid of an unimportant soldier, just like every other hostage is another piece in the web of the war. I keep thinking about the relatives of Aral’s men caught in the capital. The hostages that Aral refuses to take. Everyone just trying to take care of those they love, and the points where they must put other priorities over their relationships are heart wrenching.
Barrayar looks dead on at how little people try to survive a civil war. From the mountains where the fighting seems so far, and information is slowed to a trickle of the singular mailman. The invasion of forces that disrupts people who may not even know there’s a war yet. The scientists and the genius lost in a single blast that goes unnoticed. The urban populations trying to sneak in food and people and keep their heads down. Random citizens debating who to sell out, weighing risks and bounties, if it will get them the favor with the occupiers that will help them survive. All so small in the grand scheme of things, and yet they are who Barrayar concerns itself with.
Cordelia’s uncertainty and fear would’ve been undermined if we were allowed to see in the heads of people driving the conflict, because Barrayar isn’t about those people. It is the desperation of two mothers, powerless and kept in the dark, that topples the regime.
Addendum: Cordelia’s relationship to Aral firmly places her in an upper class position that is important to note when discussing the role of civilians/‘little people’ within this analysis. But as a woman on Barrayar she is extremely limited in the power she is allocated, especially compared to someone like Aral, which would be the military leadership POV that novels more focused on the grander scope of war would utilize. Again not to say Cordelia has no agency or power, but it is not to the degree of the people in charge. Thus I place her alongside the average people swept up in a war outside their control.
Still, her position as a Vor Lady gives her some access knowledge and connections that she turns into power, which while limited are far more than the average citizen. Her significance to Vordarrian is exclusively viewed as yet another hostage, an underestimation that Cordelia readily exploits, but still afforded only due to her status. Cordelia occupies a position of importance but not power beyond the scope of the people she’s formed direct relationships with, which only further ties into the essay's thesis.
#I found it so so frustrating at first to be trapped with Cordelia until I realized. That's the point. She's trapped too.#Also probably a symptom of me being an omniscient 3rd person writer. I want to explore everyone and feel trapped in just 1 head#anyway probably mispelled so many character names plz have mercy I'm an audio book boi#y'all I meant this to be a very brief couple of sentence about a nitpick but then i just had to unpack author intentions. Sigh.#kinda miss writing english essays ngl.#vorkosigan saga#cordelia naismith vorkosigan#aral vorkosigan#vorkosigan analysis#barrayar#literary analysis#cordelia vorkosigan#something to nom on
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I had a bit of a meltdown at my OH last night about the fact that services designed for abled people are “convenience-based” - have an app or a text-based service, send you updates - and thus accessible to me on the days I literally can’t talk or think in a straight line due to fatigue and brain fog, or sensory overload means I’m huddled under my bedcovers with the curtains closed and Loops in, but every fucking “accessible” service means a long phone call, planning intensively in advance with no allowance for variable health, and flexibility for them but none for you - ie, “we’ll pick you up at some time between 10am and 1pm, we can’t wait so if you’re not ready immediately you can’t come, and we can’t tell you how long you’ll be on the minibus because we’re picking up 8 other people.”
I can’t do public transport, which is *still* less bad than that, because I have chronic fatigue and if I’m out and up too long, I’ll crash, and if I crash, then whenever I eventually get home and to bed I won’t be able to get up for days. I’ll be crawling to the bathroom like it’s fucking Everest. And yet that’s pretty much the given for any form of “paratransport”.
A huge number of disabled people use services abled folk use for convenience to literally survive. GPS apps. Food delivery. Laundry services. The “convenience-based” approach - ie, abled people have choice, so if it’s shit they won’t use it and it’ll go under - is what makes it actually accessible to us. It means that we can use our limited energy and limited capacity to get a vital thing done with minimal expenditure and thus have some left over for other vital things.
Whereas with disability services the entire ethos is “you’re *so* lucky we funded this; it’s entirely based on abled people’s ideas of what we think you need and “deserve”; you’re disabled so you clearly have nothing else to do with your life other than wait around for us to provide the “service”; if you’re physically disabled you clearly have incredible planning skills and executive function and know precisely what you will be doing for weeks ahead and have an abled carer who also has nothing to do with their time except wait around with you; if you have *any* form of communication, processing, planning or learning disability you clearly have an abled carer who can do all your communication and planning *for* you; these two things *never* cross over, at least if you have any capacity to speak or do anything independently”.
And if you don’t use these “services” - which, btw, are incredibly difficult to access, usually need a referral from a social worker, and are not remotely publicised - then you *clearly* don’t “need” them. The fact that they are utterly impossible to coordinate with, say, going to a vital medical appointment is met with shrugs and “well maybe the hospital can arrange transport for you”. Then that process starts all over again.
#disabled#disability#disableism#chronic illness#chronic pain#chronic fatigue#autistic adult#adult adhd#executive dysfunction
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Enervation
Fate (Gojo x Fem! Reader)
(Tw: blood, violence, and death)
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The relief was palpable as you and the others, including Satoru, entered Jujutsu High's barrier. Yawning along with him, you couldn't help but smile as Riko and Kuroi expressed their relief. It had been quite an eventful three days, but you had all made it back safely to the protection of the school's barrier.
Satoru couldn't help but express his exhaustion. "No more... no more babysitting," he grumbled, his tone laced with fatigue. You, however, couldn't resist a tired giggle. With a gentle yet, playfully slap to his chest you reminded him, "Don't be such a grouch, we made it home!" Your words were a light-hearted way to acknowledge the successful mission and the safety you all had secured.
Satoru's playful grin was infectious, and your laughter resonated in the warm afternoon air. Suguru extended his heartfelt gratitude for the hard work both of you had put into the mission, and a sense of pride began to well up within you, knowing that you had actually contributed to the team's success.
But this moment of camaraderie was brutally interrupted. Your body instinctively recoiled as your eyes widened in shock. Tranquility shattering as you watched in disbelief, a sword suddenly piercing through Satoru, the blade stained crimson with his blood, dread settling heavily in your chest.
"Do I... know you?" Satoru panted, sweat dripping down his face, his charismatic grin tinged with unease. The atmosphere had shifted drastically, and then your blood ran cold as soon as the man behind the blade spoke.
“Nah don’t sweat it, I don’t care to remember names unless they mean money,” Toji gruffly responded from behind Satoru, his voice laced with a sinister edge.
Toji's presence sent shivers down your spine, awakening a torrent of emotions that you had suppressed for so long. You could still vividly remember the fear in your parents' eyes as they tried to protect you from him. The pain of your injuries, the moment your curse energy manifested in response to the life-threatening wounds, and the relentless struggle for survival.
The knowledge that Toji had brutally taken your parents from you, and had almost taken your life, was a heavy weight that had haunted you for years. Now, here he was, as if fate had brought him back into your life.
In the heat of the moment, your instincts kicked in as you swiftly moved toward Satoru, the urgency to help him and protect your friends taking over. Suguru summoned his largest cursed caterpillar to shield Riko and Kuroi from potential harm, ensuring their safety.
Toji's landing was a testament to his agility and skill, keeping him as a significant threat. Satoru, regaining his balance, provided a more detailed explanation to put your fears to rest. "I'm fine," he began, his voice steady. "My curse technique didn't activate in time, but I managed to minimize the damage. He didn't hit any vital organs." His words carried an air of calm, alleviating your worries.
A chill runs down your spine as Toji recognizes you. "You're [Surname]'s kid," he darkly chuckles, leveling his sword at you. Your heart raced with fear as Toji recognized you. Satoru immediately sensed your panic and instinctively acted as your shield, placing himself between you and the menacing figure.
Toji's disturbing words hung in the air as he cruelly remarked, "You've got a ton of curse energy now, all because I killed your parents. You should be grateful; I mean, you could always pay me the extra twenty grand I was promised for taking your life." His sadistic humor sent shivers down your spine.
Suddenly, Suguru's cursed caterpillar sprang up from the ground, swiftly swallowing Toji whole.
"Amanai is our priority," Satoru's voice snapped you out of your daze. You looked into his aquamarine eyes, a sense of urgency filling the air. He continued, "You need to go with Suguru. I'll take care of this." Hesitating, your fear for Satoru's safety evident in your [e/c] eyes. "Satoru, he's... he's a monster. Don't let your guard down around him," you softly warned as you ran toward Suguru and the others.
Satoru, undeterred by the situation, turned toward the blade that had pierced through the caterpillar's thick skin. With a smirk, he quipped,
“I’m amongst the strongest aren’t I?”
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A heavy but touching moment unfolded as Riko and Kuroi shared their goodbyes. Kuroi's voice trembled with emotion, "Master Riko, this is as far as I go. Please take—" before Riko leaped into her arms, tears streaming down her face. "Kuroi, I love you!" She cried. "Always and forever."
"I love you too!" Kuroi tearfully replied. The two shared an emotional farewell, and your heart ached as you and Suguru observed this poignant scene from the chamber's main entrance.
Holding Riko's hand, you offered her a reassuring smile as the three of you descended into the main hall of the Tomb of the Star.
It hadn’t taken long for you to reach your final stop."We're just outside of where Master Tengen is." Suguru informed. Your eyes wandered in awe as you took in the sheer scale of this massive underground structure.
"Are you ready, Riko?" you asked, offering her a supportive smile as she nodded in a mix of fear and determination. "You'll need to head downstairs and pass that gate, then head towards the base of the huge tree. Once you're there, Master Tengen will protect you until the merger." Suguru instructed as Riko tried to bravely let go of her hold on you, her hand lingering as she shakily gazed down at the tomb.
“Or you could turn back and go home with Kuroi” Suguru said as he turned towards Riko. “Before we met you, the three of us decided that if you didn’t want to merge Satoru and I would take responsibility for it.” Suguru finally explained.
Shock was evident on her face as you happily giggled at her expression. “We’re the strongest, so whatever you choose we promise to protect your future” smiling as he finished.
Tears welled up in Riko's eyes as Suguru revealed their plan. Your heart swelled with affection for the young girl. Riko wiped away her tears with the back of her hand, her expression a mix of gratitude and relief.
"You guys really... care about me that much?" She trembled as she spoke, touched by your words. "We really do," you replied, your voice filled with sincerity, Suguru nodding in agreement as well.
“I thought that because I didn’t have anyone that the loneliness and sadness would disappear with the merger but; I want to be with everyone” Riko cried as made her way towards the two of you.
Opening your arms as a smile spread across both of your faces, she was nearly in your arms until a loud bang filled the chamber.
Dread and disbelief washed over you as you looked down at Riko's lifeless body. Time seemed to slow to a crawl. Your trembling hands reached out to touch her, unable to accept the horrifying reality that had just unfolded. Tears welled up in your eyes as you cradled her, the joy from moments ago now turned into an overwhelming sorrow.
"Riko!" You cried out, your voice choked with grief. The chamber, once filled with hope, had transformed into a scene of tragedy.
"Time to wrap things up now," Toji announced, stepping out from the shadows, a malevolent grin on his face. Both you and Suguru exchanged frightened glances, the weight of the situation bearing down on you. Suguru cautiously questioned, "Why... are you here?"
Your hands shook as you gently laid Riko's lifeless form down, trying to gather your composure. The presence of Toji brought a chilling sense of dread.
Toji's tone was sinister as he answered, "Why?" His words were laced with a dark intent, but before you could understand, he knocked the gun against his head. "Oh, I gotcha," he muttered, revealing a twisted sense of amusement.
Then, the confession came like a hammer blow. "I killed Satoru Gojo," Toji admitted, a sinister smile on his face as he kept you and Suguru in his cold, unforgiving gaze.
Your voice quivered with fear and disbelief as you reacted to Toji's horrifying confession. "No... there's no way," you muttered, your voice trembling as you instinctively tried to draw closer to Suguru. The world seemed to blur around you as your thoughts raced to process the shocking revelation.
Pain suddenly surged through your body as you lurched forward, coughing up blood, and your eyes locked on the blade protruding from your chest. Toji's menacing presence overwhelmed you as he callously chuckled. "It's been a real pain in my ass since I found out you've been alive all these years," he sneered, quickly yanking the blade from your body. "The higher-ups weren't too happy about that" he snarled before forcefully kicking you to the ground.
Your wheezing breaths echoed in the chamber as you lay on the cold concrete. Toji's cruel words about your parents' murder had struck you to the core. If not for the blood that relentlessly flowed from you, you might have finally had the opportunity to find closure for your painful past.
However, as the minutes passed, panic slowly set in. Your body refused to heal, and a chilling realization washed over you: poison coursed through your veins. You felt your strength wane, and despite your desperate attempts, your body was far too exhausted to use your reverse curse technique.
Dark, weary (e/c) eyes met Suguru's horrified dark violet orbs. In those final moments, a bittersweet smile tugged at the corners of your scarlet-stained lips. Your eyes began to drift shut, and your head limply lulled to the side, memories of happier times at the beach enveloping you as you succumbed to the darkness.
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Hello my sweethearts! I reread #JJK236 just to make myself cry all over again. I put my heart into this chapter so I hope you all enjoy! Please let me know what you guys think!!
As always, much love xoxo
ʕ·ᴥ·ʔ
#gojo angst#gojo x you#jujutsu geto#geto suguru#gojo x reader#gojo satoru#gojo x y/n#gojo satoru x y/n#gojo satoru x reader#gojo satoru x you#jujutsu satoru#satoru gojo x reader#Fatefanficdelulus#jujutsu kaisen
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Now, I’m not sure if anyone in the TOA fandom has ever mentioned “Tongs A Lot, Dad”, a short story found in Camp Half-Blood confidential, but I strongly believe it adds (or perhaps reinforces) a lot when looked at with the additional context and characterisation the Trials of Apollo provides.
An almost diary entry like addition in the short book, the story is told by Connor Stoll, following him and his brother as they poke around the old attic where the Oracle of Delphi remained for decades in the interest of scoring loot. At this they are semi successful, as they are made almost ridiculously vital to the canon plot of HoO with the find of celestial bronze tongs, which are inscribed with the instructions “for plucking the Tartarus Napkin from fire”. And if you are reading this post, you probably have a pretty good idea of why that’s important.
Now, what does this have to do with Apollo? Well, I find it highly probable that this was Apollo’s doing, for multiple reasons.
1. The tongs were found in the oracle of Delphi's old abode, which is obviously Apollo’s domain, a place you would think he’d be very familiar with- the original place of the Oracle of Delphi was sacred ground, in fact, and even if that doesn’t quite translate to modern day... there is that theory about him being Camp Half Bloods Patron, pioneered by @tsarisfanfiction, I believe. Whatever hold the ancient laws have on the gods, I think we can somewhat assume that places such as these allow more wriggle room.
2. This notably happened basically simultaneously with Rachel becoming the Oracle, as seen here, “While everyone else was waiting to see if Rachel, the new Oracle, would survive....we made our move around to the back door of the Big House.” At this point, we’ve just wrapped up PJO. How would Apollo of known to set this up now? Well, we already know from Octavian in SoN that Apollo talked to him personally, and that their talk must of happened before Olympus closed, because he was stuck on Delos after. So if Apollo can put that into play, why not set up this? After all, Apollo is the god of prophecy - he could of understood it was needed. He obviously knew there was a threat.
3. In the books (before ToA) we only see Apollo in Camp Half Blood twice- once to take Percy’s group and the hunters there in TTC, and once at the end of PJO to, as Conner so delightfully puts it, wait to see if Rachel would survive the Oracle. He was right there. And if that’s not enough for you, the reason Conner picks out the bag with the tongs? A “beam of golden light, shot upward from the floor” startles him. We find out later in another story that Apollo is directly confirmed to have been the one to do this- gifting Rachel the famous tripod stool of the Oracle. It fits almost to well.
“But!” You might say, protesting, “The title confirms who did it! I mean, it’s not like Apollo is Connor Stoll’s dad!” And to that I say- although the title does suggest that Hermes is responsible, it’s never confirmed, and more importantly- it’s in Connor’s POV. Why shouldn’t he assume it’s his dad? And why would he know otherwise? Perhaps you could make another connection with Hermes due to his shrine in Tartarus and point at that as his involvement, but wouldn’t it make more sense if Apollo knew it was a Child of Hermes who had to have the tongs, and acted accordingly? Afterall, last we saw Hermes he had a significant grudge against Annabeth, and more importantly has done nothing to suggest he’s capable of such foresight, especially at this point.
Now that I have (hopefully) convinced you of Apollo’s involvement, another titular question must be answered- why does it matter? What’s the ramifications of this? Well, considering that this napkin basically ends the civil war between the Greeks and the Romans... a lot, actually. Specifically, it allows Annabeth to communicate that reconciliation can be reached if Reyna, a Roman, returns the Athena Parthenos, an important Greek statue to the Greeks. (Also interesting to note she addresses this to Rachel, Apollo’s Oracle... another subtle connection).
In ToA, Zeus punishes Apollo mainly for two stated reasons: Revealing the Prophecy to soon, which becomes pretty clear is not how prophecy works. And encouraging Octavian to declare war on the Greeks. But wait? If the Napkin succeeds due to Apollo, that means that he is trying to stop the war, which in my opinion follows more along with his characterisation in ToA. So what happened with Octavian? The fact of the matter is, people more clever then me have attempted to solve this question, such as @zazzander and @fearlessinger (Highly recommend this post if you are interested in the topic!)
The tongs (and thus the potential for the Napkin) was put into place months before any true threat would be realised by most characters. So it wasn’t a frantic backpedal of trying to fix his mistakes to avoid punishment by Apollo. It was deliberate. Premeditated. Now, it could be that Apollo just knew the tongs would be needed, but not what for. Unfortunately, we don’t know how his powers work. But that’s boring. However, if you take the view that Apollo’s communication with Octavian was part of a larger strategy to reunite the camps... (again, see the linked post). Well. Funny thing, because that’s exactly what the Napkin facilitates. The two camps stop fighting because of this one, simple message, and the effect it had. They focus on the true enemy. Gaia.
What does this tell us then about Apollo, then?
Well...not much new, surprisingly. ToA does it’s job well. We know Apollo cares, deeply, about his kids and demigods as a whole. We know he often acts subtly, through quiet actions that he’ll never admit to. It’s maybe the final piece of evidence you could point to and say definitively that Zeus’s punishment was unjust, but we already knew that (although funnily enough, Zeus doesn’t- and even if he did, he’d probably just point to the violation of the interference laws and punish Apollo anyway.) What it does is add on to a very firm characterisation that ToA finalises, and showcases how once again Apollo is so much more then he first appears.
#Did I focus way to much on a story of dubious canon?#Yes#Do I regret it?#No#Apollo meta#Apollo#ToA Apollo#Pjo Apollo#PJO#TOA#Trials of Apollo#lester papadopoulos#I have been meaning to do this for ages#I just think it's a really neat detail... but it just kept getting longer#Oh well#this meta is just me being insane for#roughly 1k words erbherf
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i would like so sincerely apologize for the sad writing i made a few days ago, please take this semi cute one 🧍🏾♀️ im gonna milk the shit out of this btw
content warning : !!!CALL OF DUTY MW3 SPOILERS!!! , Female reader , death , angst in general
It’s been a few months after yours and Johnnys deaths… Simon still wasn’t doing good but he was better than he was before. he went back to working with the rest of 141 a few times and there was a mission he was on that he got injured on pretty badly and he was fighting for his life in the hospital for days…
he was on a mission in Russia, flying in the back of a helicopter with Gaz being the pilot, Simon and John shooting at enemies down below. he was hitting every target and being dead silent while he did so. in the corner of his eye he saw something flying towards them but he didn’t think much of it, he just kept shooting trying to take out his anger on people that weren’t even involved in your deaths. suddenly the back of the helicopter was hit by a rocket of a rocket launcher. Simon immediately fell back as the helicopter lost control and started spinning in the air. Gaz tried his best to regain control but it was hard
John tried reaching for Simon once he noticed him starting to slip out, he failed to grab him in time and Simon fell out. after that Simon woke up in a hospital bed with tubes connected to him and in an excruciating amount of pain, he tried moving but eventually passed out from the pain…
this would happen a lot over the next few days, him waking up, screaming out in pain and passing out the rest of the day… the doctors only gave him a week to survive because his injuries were so severe, when he landed on the floor after falling out the helicopter he broke almost every bone in his body, lungs were punctured and many vital organs were damaged.
Simon woke up and his eyes shot open… he wasn’t in a hospital bed… or the hospital room he grew to be familiar with every time he woke up and screamed in pain… most importantly he wasn’t in pain… he moved his hands to touch his chest and stomach as if he had lost something. he looked around and he was in the living room of a house with a fire place, christmas decorations, a blanket over his lap and a cup of tea on the little coffee table beside his chair.
you walked in with a tray full of snacks and Johnny followed after you, you both we talking about holidays and how you can spend them with a few people who very clearly were not alive anymore, you placed the tray on the larger coffee table and you looked up to see Simon staring at the two of you.
“Y/n…. Johnny…?” he asked almost a little scared but confused. he slowly stood up and immediately ran to bring the two of you into a tight hug. Johnny laughed softly as he hugged him back, so did you
“Hey Simon, buddy! we missed you” Johnny said with the happiest sounding tone of voice
“hello to you too, Simon” you chuckled as you rubbed his back gently. you felt him shaking like he was crying — which he was. he buried his face into your shoulder and held you and Johnny like this was the last time he ever would
“am… am i dreaming…?” he said softly as he calmed down his crying and looked down at the two of you.
“no… you’re not…” you said softly as you looked up at Simon. you knew he knew he was dead…. you just didn’t know if it settled in quite yet
“what is this place…?”
“our home…. Simon… this is where we live from now on…” Johnny said softly as he could also tell Simon that knew he was dead, it just hasn’t settled in yet. after a while of silence and looking around the living room in shock Simon smiled softly and he laughed softly as well…
“whats so funny, Bubba?” you said jokingly using the nickname you had for him before you died
“i wasn’t expecting the afterlife to be something we all wanted….” he said as he walked to look out the window, it was snowing showing that it was christmas time in the afterlife just like it was in the real world. You and Johnny looked at each other before walking over to stand next to him
“we all wanted the same thing….”
“that was to spend the rest of eternity together…” you added softly as you looked at the two men
“im glad im home…” Simon said softly as he grabbed the two of you into another hug. the three of you laughed softly as you hugged realizing you all wanted the exact same thing in the after life — to be together
#call of duty#call of duty modern warfare 2#call of duty x reader#call of duty modern warfare 3#simon riley#simon riley x reader#simon riley headcanons#johnny soap mactavish#johnny mctavish x reader#soap x reader#soap headcanons#x reader#x female reader
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Surprising Reunions, part 1
Joel Miller x Dieter Bravo x female reader
Co-written with @absurdthirst
Rating: E for Explicit! 18+
Word Count: 19.1k
Warnings: So so so much cursing, homophobia, hate speech (against gay characters), mentions of domestic abuse (parent/child) and alcoholism, references to drug use, extremely overt flirting, underage sexual activity (MM), oral sex (m receiving), angst, extremely brief mention of suicidal ideation,
Summary: Joel and Ellie stumble across an occupied hotel in their journey west, and Joel is astonished to find that the inhabitants are his ex-boyfriend Dieter Bravo and his wife.
Notes: About a month ago a lovely anon dropped into my askbox with the surprise idea of a Joel x Dieter pairing and Keri and I just about lost our minds over it. What was born in our minds as a smutty little one shot has become a two-part field day of feelings and tension. And I gotta say? I love these two guys together.
The world as it was twenty years ago is broken. Irrevocably so. However, in many ways, it’s a lot smaller than it was back then. When people scattered and the only way you found out about them was if someone else had known them. Travel was dangerous, friendships now vital for survival and yet, Joel found himself both traveling and forming a bond with a mouthy, moody teenager that liked stupid jokes that he would secretly grin over and shake his head at how much she reminded him of him. And Sarah, but mostly him for the simple fact that she had the same resilient fortitude that he had admired when he was friends with the one openly bisexual kid in Austin, Texas in the early nineties.
"Hey Joel." Ellie sidles up next to the older man as they walk, her steps invigorated with the physical need to tell the joke she's just dug out of the depths of the book she keeps squirreled away in her backpack. She's been saving it for a good time and Joel looks particularly grumpy today. Although that's really just the way his face is. "Joel." She hops in front of him and starts walking backwards with a grin splitting her face open. "Why can't you hear a pterodactyl going to the bathroom?"
Joel rolls his eyes and lets out a long-suffering sigh. Even though he knows the answer to the joke, he gives her a look of confusion that would rival the best Bowie High School drama club, of which he had been very familiar with. “Why?” He huffs at her.
The way she snickers and giggles so much that she can barely get out the punchline is half the joy of the whole moment, until Ellie finally bursts out with: "Because the pee is silent!" And doubles over cackling with glee as they continue down the road.
“Jesus Christ.” Joel readjusts his pack on his back and turns his head to hide his own grin. “Your jokes are horrible.” He grumbles at her when he finally looks back at the laughing teenager.
"Then why are you laughing?" She shoots back, long since having learned what it means when Joel hides his face from her after she delivers a particularly groan-worthy punchline. "Ya old softie. Laughing at bad jokes."
“You’re an idiot.” Joel rolls his eyes again for good measure and is once again reminded of when he was accused of being a softie by someone else. Why he was on Joel’s mind, he couldn’t say. Maybe he was getting sentimental in his old age.
"You like it." There isn't an ounce of doubt in her voice, like she knows damn well that he would have gotten rid of her long ago if Joel didn't have some kind of attachment to her. It's probably true. Promise or otherwise, there are plenty of times he could have left her behind, but he hadn't. They walk a little longer before Ellie opens her mouth again, this time with a frown on her face. "It's gonna start getting dark soon," she observes, looking up into the sky. Normally this is the point at which Joel starts looking for someplace to make camp. "There was a sign for a hotel back there. Like a half mile ago, I think?"
“Yeah.” Joel frowns and nods up ahead. “Should be about half a mile up the road.” The crumbling, overgrown road isn’t a major highway, but it had been void of people and infected so he counted that as a blessing. “Looks to be a fancy place like you wanted to see.”
"Cool." Ellie swings her arms and takes a few steps faster than the last. "Maybe the beds won't all be disgusting. I'd kill to sleep on a mattress tonight instead of the ground."
Joel snorts. “Who the hell are you tellin’? My back is killing me.” There’s not a day that goes by that something doesn’t ache, but he just pushes through. Still, it’ll be good to get a good night's sleep.
“Old man.” Ellie snorts, although each time she says it it’s slightly fonder than the last. Like she’s finally accepting the fact that the old curmudgeon isn’t that bad.
“Fifty-six years old.” He grumbles, shaking his head again. Maybe the hotel would have some canned goods they could pilfer. Nothing like a giant can of green beans or corn to fill the kid’s stomach.
“Old old man.” Ellie corrects herself with a smirk. “Ancient-as-fuck old man.” The hotel that appears on the horizon as they walk is about a hundred years old from the look of it. Art Deco outsides far from the glory they once exuded and probably housing nothing but dilapidated shadows of a world long gone. Still, it’s standing. And it doesn’t have any holes missing from the look of it, so that’s better than a lot of places they’d been up until now. “Coooool!” Ellie crows, getting a good look at the sign as they walk. Once upon a time, the light-up marquee would have announced The Promenade loudly and proudly. Now it’s rusty, but at least it’s still standing.
“You know the drill, kid.” Joel cautions her as they draw closer. “We scope out the interior, look for food and then we’ll get set up with a place to sleep.” The wariness in the pit of his stomach is common every time they do this, but it makes him more cautious as he squints to survey the surroundings.
“I know.” She nods, having agreed long ago that what Joel said was law. Even if she pokes and prods at him sometimes, she’s learned that setting up camp isn’t a good time for teasing.
“Good.” He smirks slightly. “Maybe we can order room service.” He jokes, noticing a glint of metal on the top floor and he stares hard at it for a moment before he realizes it’s a piece of aluminum from the air conditioning units on the roof.
“Oh, sure.” That makes Ellie snort and roll her eyes. “A bacon cheeseburger and all the fries I can eat and an ice cream sundae.” Things she had really only read about in books or saw on signs as they traveled. What she would give for one of the roadside McDonald’s they found to actually be operational.
“Extra bacon.” Joel agrees, nodding. “With ketchup and hot sauce on the fries.” Too bad the kid couldn’t have actually had something like that. She would love it.
“Goddamn I want to try French fries.” Ellie grumbles, only to have Joel put out his hand to silence her a second later. He must have seen something inside. The large glass panels in the tops of the doors give you a decent view of the lobby from outside.
“Take your gun out.” Joel orders, pulling his own revolver out so he holds it in his hand as the pace slows. Approaching the doors quietly and listening as he looks through the dirty glass.
Ellie gulps, complying silently and falling in line behind Joel. He doesn’t like her to even touch the gun she carries unless absolutely necessary, so the time for teasing is definitely over. Inside the windows they can make out two figures. They’re not heavily armed from what Joel and Ellie can see, and they don’t seem to be aware of their fast-approaching visitors. Are they— dancing? “The hell?” Ellie breathes out, almost laughing when she realizes yes – that is just a couple of weirdo adults dancing inside that abandoned hotel lobby.
“Fucking hell.” Joel narrows his eyes and searches for any signs of it being an ambush. He’s seen weirder ploys to catch people off guard. “Don’t fucking speak.” He warns as he decides if it’s better to go inside or find somewhere else. Except there’s nowhere else for miles. The decision is made by the dark clouds off to the west and he sighs. “Okay?” He turns and looks at Ellie seriously.
Ellie nods, making the motion of zipping her lips shut and throwing away the key. The last thing she wants is to get shot. She’s not immune to that.
Joel sighs before he grabs the patinated handle of the heavy front door and yanks it open. “Quit moving, turn around.” He orders, quickly stepping through the door and leveling the gun at the man and woman in the lobby.
“Jesus fuck!” Dieter doesn’t mean to be so startled – it happens easily these days – but he does feel like an ass for dropping you when someone bursts through the front door of the hotel that hasn’t seen any other occupants in seven years. “Don’t shoot!”
“Fuck—fuck!” You scramble to your feet, grabbing a pistol of your own off the nearby check in counter. “Who the fuck are you? What do you want?” The words are a demand as you put yourself between this newcomer and the man you’ve lived with for twenty-five years. Not a stitch of armor on you but it doesn’t matter. You’d take the bullet if it came to that.
“Are you alone?” Joel demands gruffly, his eyes darting between the two of you before he narrows his eyes and leans in. “D-Dieter!?” he spits out. “Is that you?”
The man behind you sticks his wary head out, always suspicious of anyone who recognizes him, especially twenty years after the world more or less ended. “Fucking—Joel?!” He chokes out, nearly shouting in your ear and pulling on your arm. “It’s okay, baby. It’s okay. He’s—he’s okay. Holy shit man.”
“Jesus fucking Christ, that is you.” Joel doesn’t know who the fuck you are, but he knows anyone with Dieter isn’t a threat to him. Holstering his gun, he shocks Ellie by rushing forward and grabbing Dieter to pull him into a bone crushing hug. He was probably the last person he had expected to find on the road to Wyoming but he’s glad to see him.
It’s debatable who is more confused - you or the teenager that has been trailing behind this Joel - and you and she find yourselves pointing your guns at each other for a moment while the two men embrace before you click the safety back into place. If this is the Joel that you’ve heard about, you’re safe. If it’s someone else, Dieter will explain. At least the kid has the decency to pull the door shut behind her after she lowers her own gun.
******
“Stupid faggot.” The words are accompanied by another punch to the stomach and gangly Dieter Black doubles over with a grunt of pain. The group of kids surrounding them weren't exactly coy in their dislike of anyone different from them and Dieter had become their latest target. Mike Robinson laughs and pushes Dieter back against the lockers, smug and leaning into his personal space as he gasps for breath. “What’re you gonna do, bitch boy?” He taunts. “Cry? Piss yourself?” He draws his fist back again, ready to break the queer’s nose when suddenly someone shoves through the crowd.
“Fucking asshole!” Joel wasn’t as stocky as Robinson, but that was because he ate less McDonald’s and was on the baseball team. Fury twists his features, and he doesn’t hesitate to use all 5 '11” of his frame to shove the other boy away from Dieter. “Why don’t you fight me?” He challenges, bowing up slightly and using his broad frame to look bigger. “I’m not your size, but I’ll wipe the floor with your ass, pussy.” He spits.
“Gotta teach the fucking faggot a lesson!” Robinson barks, though his fist does lower slightly after scrabbling to his feet. Miller has a reputation for ending fights even if he wasn’t the one who started them.
Dieter slumps when Joel’s bulk comes into view, knowing that - for now at least - he’s safe. Miller has never said much beyond fending off the bullies, but Dieter is grateful. Offering to help the baseball star pass English out of gratitude for saving him from a few ass whippings.
“Gonna have to go through me, fat ass.” Joel scoffs, sending him a smirk that tells the kid he would like nothing more. Coach Johnson couldn’t risk Joel not playing in Friday’s game considering he had the highest batting average on the team and was currently on a hitting streak. Not this close to the championship. So this little incident would be swept under the rug. “What’s the matter? Pissed off that he wouldn’t kiss your shit smelling mouth?”
“As if I would ever fuckin—” Robinson sputters, looking to his goons for back up but they’re no help. They don’t want to get their asses kicked by Joel Miller anymore than he does. “Filthy fucking queer!” He spits, pounding his fist into the locker beside Dieter’s head so hard one of his knuckles makes a dent. It’s worth the pain for the way the little worm squirms and flinches. “C’mon boys,” he orders his cronies. “You’re lucky I’m feeling fuckin’ nice today, Black!”
Joel clenches his fists as he watches the bullies turn around and stride off like they are being benevolent. He doesn’t say anything, although he wants to. Only when they turn the corner does he glance over at Dieter. “You alright, man?” He asks gruffly, bending down to pick up the backpack that had been knocked out of his hands.
“Yeah.” Dieter sniffles, hiding his face from the other boy. It doesn’t help his case at all that the one person who keeps saving his ass is the one he’s always fantasizing about. “Yeah,” he mutters again and reaches for his backpack. “You don’t have to keep doing that, ya know.”
Joel looks over at Dieter and notices the fading remnants of a black eye and his jaw clenches slightly. “Yeah I do.” He lets go of the backpack and steps back.
“They’re gonna start thinking you’re my friend.” He protests, knowing that that wouldn’t be good for the athlete’s reputation. To be known friends with a drama geek loser who routinely gets beat up wouldn’t be good. Even Joel Miller couldn’t survive that for too long.
“Fuck ‘em.” Joel shrugs and rolls his eyes. “I can kick all their asses and if they keep fucking around, I will.” He shoves his hands in his pockets and looks around, the halls now deserted. “You headed to science or theatre?”
Dieter stares blankly, wondering how Joel knows his schedule, before he re-composes his face and stammers out “Th-theatre.” He shuffles his bag higher in his shoulder and glances down the empty hallway. “You?” He pretends not to know. That he doesn’t have his impossible crush’s schedule memorized. This is Joel’s free period, which means he’ll probably be going down to the gym.
“Free period.” Joel offers. “Plannin’ on going for a run out in the woods past the baseball fields.” He turns towards the theatre hall and starts walking. He gets three steps before he realizes that Dieter isn’t coming and turns back to look at him. “You comin’?”
“It’s the other way.” Dieter feels like an idiot, pointing his thumb in the direction of the locker room and the front entrance of the school where he would have to go out to go for a run. Theater classes are in the auditorium, which is the exact opposite direction. “You’re—you— you’re going the wrong way.” He stammers out, eyes down on the floor.
“Walkin’ you to class.” Joel tells him, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “So you don’t have to worry about those assholes.”
"Oh." He feels like a moron, and it probably shows on his face, but Dieter rushes to get in step with Joel. His pathetic little crush might be miles out of reach, but he's not stupid enough to turn down the opportunity to spend just two more minutes in Joel's shadow. "I—um...thanks."
“No problem.” Joel isn’t great with words and comes off sarcastic half the time and angry the other half, but he gives a huff that could be interpreted as a small sound of embarrassment. “They’re wrong.” He says after a minute and a hundred feet down the hall. “About you.”
Dieter's eyes flash up to Joel's face, and though both boys are the same height, Joel is built broader and stronger than Dieter is. He feels downright gangly next to the athlete. "No." He mutters, shaking his head. "They're not. That...that's the problem."
“What? Because you're gay?” Joel huffs, shaking his head. “That’s not true because I saw you making out with Tabitha Nuñez last month.”
"Except..." It makes his stomach twist, never having said any of this out loud to another person. He's read the words, or heard them said, but owning them himself is an entirely new experience. "I kind of am. I mean...you can like both, ya know? It's possible. So they're kind of...half right."
“So?” Joel’s stomach twists and he shrugs again. “Doesn’t mean they get to beat the shit out of you.” He growls, pissed off that they had been pounding on Dieter when it’s obvious that he doesn’t fight back. “He give you that black eye?”
"No." Bowing his head again to keep the eyesore out of sight, Dieter shuffles awkwardly along beside Joel. "That was my dad." The discovery of his magazine stash had been a rude awakening in the Black house. He's honestly just lucky that he didn't get kicked out before he left for school this morning.
“Fucker.” Joel hisses, shaking his head and he reaches out and slaps Dieter on the shoulder. Not too hard, so he doesn’t think he’s treating him like everyone else. “So come stay at my house tonight.” He offers. “Parents are away…again.”
Stopping dead in his tracks, Dieter feels slack and tense all at once, like he's going to shake apart out of confusion and...happiness? Is that what this feeling is? "Why are you being so nice to me?" He demands, his slight drawl making him sound more aggravated than curious. He just doesn't fucking understand it.
“Why shouldn’t I be?” Joel frowns, thoroughly confused at the anger in Dieter’s tone. “Would you rather I was an asshole to you?” Maybe he resented him helping, the idea makes Joel’s heart drop, but he doesn’t show it.
"I just don't see what's in it for you." Dieter had offered to help Joel pass English - the only class they had together - but Joel had never said yes or no. He had just huffed something noncommittal and headed for class when the bell rang. He's used to people wanting things from him - even if all they wanted him for was to be a punching bag. "I—I mean you're...you're literally one of the most popular kids in school and you don't have to spare me a second fucking look but you're always so fucking nice to me and I never see you be nice to anyone else. I don't get it."
Joel turns his head and just stares at Dieter, wondering if the other boy was just fucking with him or if he had really not understood. He guesses it’s not as obvious. “Really?” He asks, rolling his eyes. He glances at the bathroom signs and then around the deserted hallway before he grabs Dieter’s shoulder to shove him into the boy’s side.
Well that answers that, Dieter thinks as Joel pulls him into the cramped bathroom. He just wanted a target alone. It's shattering, the way Dieter can feel his own tender heart breaking as he braces to be beaten up by the one person he thought was on his side. It's better to just get it over with, he tells himself.
Joel is sweating bullets and he glances around the bathroom to make sure that there is no one around. Furtively glancing either way once more as he keeps Dieter up against the cream-colored tile before he lets him go. Swallowing harshly before he leans in, hoping he doesn’t lose his nerve before quickly pressing his lips to the other boy’s before leaning back just as fast. “There, happy?” He demands nervously, wiping his sweaty palms on his jeans and looking anywhere but Dieter in case he had just fucked up.
"You—" One hand flies to his lips immediately, like he can't trust his own senses to tell him what just happened, and he knows that he's staring because he can barely breathe. "But you were dating Alison Harcourt all last year!"
“Yeah.” Joel nods and shoves his hands in his pockets. “I was. But what you said— you know, about both….” He shrugs defensively. “Whatever…you shouldn’t get the shit kicked out of you for it.” It’s a fucking risk and he’s almost about to throw up, thinking that he had read Dieter wrong. Just because he was…queer…didn’t mean he liked every boy. Joel knows that very well. Maybe he didn’t like him.
"I didn't know." Dieter murmurs, making sure he keeps his voice down so that no one passing in the hallway would know that there were people in this bathroom. The very last thing they need right now is to be discovered. He steps toward Joel cautiously, like he's approaching his mom's easily spooked dog, and touches his shoulder to make the older boy look up at him. "I won't tell anybody," he promises solemnly. "This is just between us."
Joel stares at Dieter for another minute before he nods. “O-okay.” He rasps out. “So—are you gonna come sleep over? Or no?” He had meant the offer. His parents were rarely home, to the point where he had practically raised his younger brother Tommy. If Dieter was getting hit at home, he could come crash with them.
"Yeah." Dieter bobbles his head awkwardly. His fingers grazed Joel's arm for just a second too long and now they're tingling. Maybe he's imagining it - he has a damn good imagination after all - but Joel feels warm to him. Warm and enticing. "Yeah. I'm gonna come sleep over."
“Okay.” Joel’s head also goes up and down. “Practice was canceled today, so we can leave after school.” He looks around again. “Come on. Mr. Mackie bitches when you’re late, right?”
"Yeah." He can't remember if he told Joel that or if it's just something that he knew, but Dieter grins, blushing a little that Joel has remembered little things like that. That Joel kissed him. Even if he could tell people, they would never believe him. "Mostly because they can't start without me," he boasts gently, puffing up his chest. "I'm the star for this show."
“I know.” Joel smirks at the pride in Dieter’s voice. “You’re gonna be a big movie star one day. I know it.”
******
"You're alive." Dieter finds himself getting misty-eyed with his arms around his former lover. It doesn't matter that it's been more than twenty years since he actually saw Joel face-to-face. "You're fucking alive." He pulls back to look Joel in the face, seeing those decades reflected back at him. "It's been a long fucking time."
“Me?” Joel shakes his head and pulls him in for another hug. “How the fuck did you survive this shit?” Joel had kept up with Dieter’s career, and celebrated his successes with quiet pride. Sarah had rolled her eyes at him and his willingness to own all of Dieter Bravo’s movies, never telling her that he had known him when he was Dieter Black.
"That's what happens when you do as many ‘shrooms as I did in college." Dieter puffs up with a laugh. "The fungi accepted me as one of their own and passed right on by. No more room in the ol' headspace for more to grow." He knows it sounds ridiculous, but it's a more fun theory than your explanation - which is that he was on a no-carb diet at the time of the outbreak to lose weight for a role.
“Hold on— you hug people?” Ellie is holding up her hand and shaking her head like she’s witnessed some sort of miracle. Joel rolls his eyes as he pulls back from Dieter, taking in all the changes that had occurred over the last thirty years, twenty really, since he had watched his movies.
“So doing all those drugs saved your life, huh?” His eyes slide over to where you are standing, still confused and he points his chin towards you. “Who’s your guard dog?” He hadn’t missed the way Dieter had ducked behind you and figured he was still needing protection more than protecting anyone. He had filled out over the years, but Dieter had always been as non-confrontational as he could possibly be.
“Oh!” Entranced by seeing Joel again, Dieter had apparently forgotten there was anyone else in the room but now he waves for you to come over to him as he introduces you. “Baby, this is Joel.” He tells you excitedly. “Joel from Austin.”
“Wait…this is Joel?” The name clicks into place with how happy Dieter is to see this man and the slight disbelief in his eyes. He looks almost nostalgic, which is unusual for a man who has admittedly burned a whole lot of memories away with drug use. “Well damn,” you murmur, mostly to yourself. Moving back to the check-in desk a few feet away, you pick up a device with the hand that isn’t holding a gun and hold it up so he can see that it’s a scanner. “Just a formality,” you insist, since you know Dieter won’t let you send these people away. Joel Miller was his first love.
“Baby…” Dieter gives you a pout, asking you to put the scanner and gun down, before he looks back at Joel. “They told me not to marry my personal assistant but she takes such good fucking care of me.”
Huffing in amusement, Joel shakes his head. "You were never one to be told what to do." He drawls, remembering how obstinate Dieter could be, even if it was to his detriment. Him and Tommy accounted for half his gray hairs even back then. He tilts his neck to the side so you can press the scanner there and it clicks green but when you move towards Ellie, he grabs your arm. "Not the girl." He knows she won't pass.
That’s not a compromise you want to make, but Dieter brushes past it with absolute trust - something that is very rare for him. It took a year of working for him for him to actually trust you, for fuck’s sake. “Fine,” you eye the teen suspiciously. If push comes to shove, you can take out one brand-new clicker. You’ve done it plenty of times before now.
“What the hell are you doing here?” Dieter wants to know. He’s waving everybody further into the belly of the hotel while you go to relock the front doors, because he had apparently not checked them well enough this morning.
"Me?" Joel scoffs, looking around the crumbling hotel and feeling completely out of place. "Headin' to Wyoming." He shoots Dieter a small shrug. "Tommy's there. Need to find him and drop her off." He nods towards Ellie. "This is a long ass way from L.A." He offers, wondering how the hell Dieter has lasted twenty years in an apocalyptic world. From what Joel had seen, he had become a very pampered actor, although it's good that you seem to care about him.
“We were shooting here.” He has no filter around Joel, the absolute truth spilling from his lips as easy as breathing. “Outbreak day, I mean. They were starting to evacuate some people but…” Dieter shrugs lamely, having made his peace with it years ago. “The studio locked us down here, told us to stay out for our own safety. And then when those FEDRA fuckers came through, we hid with a couple of other people. Fuck those assholes.”
"Here?" Joel looks around and admits that it would be a good place to hole up if you needed to. "How the fuck have you survived twenty years in a hotel?"
“It turns out the staff wasn’t so big on fresh food.” When you return to the group you move right to Dieter’s side. “Obviously we’ve had to hunt, but everybody in this area just tucked tail and went where FEDRA told them to, so we’ve had a lot of abandoned resources to survive on.” It's dwindled, obviously, and it’s next to nothing now, but you’re not about to tell them that.
Joel nods, understanding now and even with it being the two of you, over the years the supplies would have been worn down. He glances towards the doors and sighs. "Well, will you let us stay tonight?" He asks, not sure if you two are willing to share your safe space. It's obviously free of infected. "We'll move on in the morning."
Dieter opens his mouth to say of course! But you put a hand on his arm before he can do more than form the first word. “Your kid’s okay?” He wouldn’t let you scan her so you have to assume that something is wrong.
"She's fine." Joel spits out defensively, shuffling slightly so he can be a human shield between you and the girl. No wonder Dieter survived; you weren't as trusting as his former boyfriend. You were smarter than that.
“If he says she’s okay, then she’s okay.” Your husband looks up at you with his best puppy dog eyes and you sigh inwardly. That expression is how he keeps you wrapped around his finger and he knows it. That, and the third fucking leg he somehow manages to hide in the lounge pants he wears every single day.
“Okay.” You nod your head, squeezing Dieter’s shoulder before you look back to the new arrivals. “Stay the night. There’s plenty of places to sleep. We’ve kept the fourth floor for living space.”
"Have you had many people come through here?" Joel asks, glancing around again. He wonders who else is here or has been here. Despite knowing Dieter, he wonders if it's just the two of you.
“There were some groups moving through a few years ago.” Dieter waves at the sofa across from where he’s standing and flops back on a chaise lounge like an exhausted Roman emperor, pulling you down beside him. “The people who stayed behind with us either left or died. A couple got infected.” He shudders at that. It had been as traumatic as anything he could remember, to see his friends turn to literal monsters. “But mostly it’s just been us, the gramophone, and a hell of a lot of books.”
"Never thought I would see you settle down." Joel admits, smirking slightly at the position that Dieter has thrown himself into. At least the affection between the two of you seems genuine. "It only took the fucking end of the world."
Ellie has been staring at Dieter and her face lights up. "I know you! You're an actor! You were in that movie...what the hell is the name of it?" She snaps her fingers, biting her lip as she tries to figure out what it was. "It's one of the few we had in the FEDRA school." She looks over at Joel. "How the fuck do you know him?"
Dieter grimaces at the idea that FEDRA is using his movies as propaganda, but he looks at Joel curiously. Why the hell was his kid in a FEDRA school? “Your dad and I grew up together,” he explains, not knowing how much she might know about the man Joel used to be. “Way back when.”
"I'm not her dad." Joel says at the same time Ellie goes, "He's not my dad."
The two of them look at each other and then Ellie's eyes widen. "Wait! You knew Joel when he was young. Has he always been an asshole?" She demands, grinning at Joel before she looks at Dieter expectantly.
“Kind of.” Dieter laughs, enjoying the scowl on his ex-boyfriend’s face. “He’s always had resting asshole face. Never started fights but always ended them, ya know? Nobody fucked with Joel back then.” Except him - but that was a fully different meaning of the word.
Joel's brow lifts, watching you try to keep your expression neutral because it's obvious you know the complete nature of his and Dieter's relationship back in high school. That the two of them had been together and explored sexually before Dieter had left for college and never come back. It's interesting that Dee ended up with a woman, like he had. Despite all the rumors of fucking anyone who would let him, Dieter still managed to bag gorgeous women and it seems that the Outbreak hadn't changed that.
“So you guys are headed to Wyoming?” Even with Dieter curled around you like a man-shaped blanket, you somehow manage to maintain your composure in the face of his ex.
Joel nods, his fingers twitching when he sees Dieter’s hands start to drift from the socially acceptable areas of a partner’s body in front of guests. “Yeah.” He clears his throat, suddenly thinking about the times that he and Dieter would fantasize together.
Dieter smirks, obviously doing it on purpose to see if he can get a rise out of Joel decades later, and lets his hand span the inside of your thigh with glee. "To find Tommy?" He prompts.
His eyes are on the way that Dieter is gripping your thigh, blanking out for a moment before he comes to. "Huh? Oh...yeah." Joel grunts out, trying to ignore the way that his cock twitches. "To find Tommy." He nods, trying not to let Dieter get to him. It wasn't like he had forgotten everything they had done together and talked about doing together.
"I'm surprised you let him out of your sight." The smirk on the younger man's face grows and he drops a kiss on your shoulder. You're just letting the conversation roll along, seemingly unbothered by Dieter's roaming hands. Presumably, you're very used to it. "Tommy was in my class." He explains to you. "Joel was very protective back then."
"He— he's my brother." Lucky for Joel, Ellie has lost interest in the catching up happening between him and Dieter and has started exploring the hotel. "Of course I was protective." He doesn't mention that he had protected Dieter just as vehemently.
"Mmhmm." Your hand catches Dieter's before it can go as far as cupping your cunt right in front of his ex, but you just shake your head. Unbothered and maybe vaguely amused is how your expression reads. "Dee hasn't had an audience in a while," you explain vaguely, throwing your husband an indulgent smile. "Clearly he's glad to see you."
Joel shuffles slightly and clears his throat, unsure of what his ex might have shared with you about that time. "I don't know about that." He grunts. "Been a long time."
"Joel." Dieter aims that deadly pout at the older man now, just the same way he had learned to aim it at you. "She knoooooows. You think I didn't tell me wife about the first cock I ever sucked?"
Joel’s eyes widen and he quickly twists his head around and makes sure that Ellie hadn't decided to be nosy. Not that he gave a fuck about people knowing that side of him, but she would be annoying as fuck with all the questions. When he sees that she's messing behind the front counter, pretending she's checking people into rooms, he looks back at the two of you. "So did you get married before the Outbreak or...?" He tries not to think about how good Dieter had gotten at sucking his cock since it's been a long fucking time from the last blow job he's gotten until now.
"You're making the poor guy nervous, babe." He did that sometimes, usually unintentionally, but it had been a long time since anyone else had even been physically near you to make nervous. Turning your head, you press a kiss to Dieter's cheek and ruffle his hair affectionately. "I'll go find the kid something to eat and get her settled? Give you boys some time to catch up."
"Mm, you're the fuckin' best." Dieter hums, giving your ass a squeeze before you walk off in the direction of the front desk to get the teenager's attention. "I, uh—" He had forgotten what Joel asked, but the thought snaps back quickly once he's done staring at your ass. "Yeah, we...we got married like...a couple of months before the Outbreak. We just did a little thing in our backyard in Malibu." He shrugs, though his smile is a little lopsided remembering the soft, white sundress you'd worn that day and how gorgeous you looked under all the twinkle lights strung through every tree that night. "Didn't want fuckin paps everywhere, ya know?"
"You always did kind of like nature." The smug comment falls off his tongue before he can stop it. Something very different from a backyard in Malibu.
******
Dieter grunts as he pushes Joel against the broad tree-trunk, one hand on the older boy's chest to hold him in place as they exchange a ferocious kiss. It's been a week since they got any time alone together and they're ravenous for contact at this point. His other hand is everywhere - touching, grasping, groping, unsettled and needy and frazzled with want.
"Dee, fuck." Joel's groan doesn't go far in the thick copse of trees, deep inside and past the old abandoned barn that had been reclaimed by nature. "You always get so fuck-ing eager when I defend you." His own fingers sink into Dieter's hair and twists around the curls, pulling as he drags the other's boy's lips back to his. Groaning again when he cups his cock through the thin basketball shorts he had been wearing when he had slipped out of the gym to meet Dieter in the woods.
"It's sexy." The explanation is honest, at least, and Dieter grins again when he feels Joel's dick twitch and harden a little more in his palm. "My big, scary protector," he croons. He's not even exaggerating.
"Start-starting to think you— you taunt them." Joel knows Dieter doesn't, but it's cute to see the pout flash across his boyfriend's face. "Shit." He hisses when Dieter's exceptionally nimble fingers slide up his shorts to wrap around his cock. "Keep it up." He growls in warning. It's been a fucking week since he's fucked Dieter since his parents actually decided to come home, although they are leaving again this afternoon. He's got a major case of blue balls and his fucking boyfriend is teasing him.
"I've been up." Dieter retorts, taking Joel's hand and pressing it against the front of his jeans. Over the course of their extremely secret relationship, he's had to get very creative with how to hide his hard-ons so he doesn't sport noticeable wood whenever Joel is around.
"Shit." He hisses, squeezing Dieter's cock and groaning when the other boy starts to massage his cock. "Come over tonight." He begs quietly. "I want—I want to fuck you." Tommy is aware of the relationship, but he doesn't give a damn and he doesn't say a word about it. Everyone else in town just thought that Joel protected Dieter because they were friends.
"Your parents leaving?" Mouthing at Joel's neck, Dieter is careful to never leave a mark behind but always uses enough pressure to make his boyfriend squirm. Stroking his cock at the same time - like he's doing now - is usually a recipe for breaking Joel's composure pretty quickly.
"Yeah." Joel's parents think that Joel has just adopted another kid to look after but even if they weren't leaving, he would want Dieter to come over. "You—if they didn't, we could be quiet." It would have to be Dieter that was quiet because he got loud when he was getting fucked. "Shit baby."
"I bet I could get you to scream now." Dieter's eyes flash mischievously. He nips at the sensitive skin of Joel's throat and gives his cock one more stroke before dropping to his knees in the patch of grass around the tree Joel is pressed against. "Don't have to be quiet in the woods."
"Oh fuck." Joel's eyes widen and he glances around just because of how exposed they are. "Baby, you don't—" He doesn't want to say yes because he doesn't want Dieter to feel like he owes him for saving him from another beating but he doesn't stop him when he reaches for the elastic band of his shorts and starts to pull them down. "Are you really going to suck my dick in the woods?" He asks breathlessly.
The wolfish grin on Dieter's face is the only answer he gives, right before diving in and taking Joel's fully hard cock in his mouth. He winks up at him from his knees before readjusting his hand around the base of Joel's shaft, making sure that he doesn't leave a single inch of that gorgeous dick untouched before he starts to bob back and forth like he had taught himself from untold hours of porn.
"Shiiiiiiiit." Joel doesn't even feel it when he bangs his head back against the tree. The wet heat of Dieter's mouth is fucking amazing and his eyes squish shut. "Oh fuck." One hand is curled into a fist and the other reaches down and tangles into Dieter's hair again. "So fucking good. Suck dick like a fucking vacuum."
A pleased, almost preening sound bubbles out of Dieter, basking in Joel's praise, and vibrates around his cock as he works the length over and over again. The hand in his hair only spurs him on, gauging how much pleasure Joel is getting from how tight he's tugging his hair. Dieter is an observant little shit if nothing else, and he had zeroed in on Joel's tells quickly as their physical relationship grew. This time will be fast and furious, judging from the way Joel's fingers are digging into his scalp.
It's almost natural how quickly his hips start to rock forward, looking down and watching his dick disappear into Dieter's mouth. Watching his lips stretch out around him. "Fuck, I'm gonna cum, Dee." He warns him. "Swallow it." He pants out. "Every fucking drop." There have been plenty of times where they had spit out cum, but he wants him to swallow him down today. Wanting him to taste his essence for the rest of the day.
He'll take the order gladly, moving the hand that's gripping Joel's hip to his balls to add to the pleasure and bring him over the edge. Joel Miller is a fucking gorgeous sight when he cums and Dieter keeps his eyes glued to his face so he doesn't miss a second of it.
It only takes a quick squeeze of his balls and the feeling of Dieter's throat closing around the head of his cock and Joel groans out his name. Throbbing on his boyfriend's tongue as ropes of cum spill down his throat in an intense rush that seems to get better every fucking time.
Dieter has instructions and he follows them to the letter, swallowing down every last drop including the ones he has to lick off the corners of his mouth before they escape and dribble down his chin. Joel looks absolutely wrecked and it makes him proud to know that he did that. He is the reason that the hottest, brooding-est athlete in school is panting in pleasure. It's his name that Joel Miller says when he cums. "Feel better, baby?"
"Stand the fuck up." Joel growls, grabbing Dieter's arm and dragging him up off the floor of the woods. Kissing him desperately despite the lingering remnant of his own spend on his boyfriend's tongue. He doesn't care. Shuffling to turn him around and push him up against the same tree he had just cum in front of, Joel breaks the kiss to take Dieter's place on his knees.
The needy whimper that spills out of Dieter's mouth when Joel drops to his knees echoes in the trees and he braces himself as best he can against the one at his back. "Y-you don't...ha-have to," he shudders watching Joel tug open the buttons on his jeans. "Fuck baby."
Joel huffs, rolling his eyes up at Dieter as he yanks the boy's pants down and smirks when he doesn't find any underwear. "You think I'm going to leave you hanging?" He demands, reaching out and wrapping his hand around Dieter's throbbing cock. Leaning in and taking him into his mouth with the same eagerness that he had been sucked off.
"Know you w—wouldn't." Dieter gasps out, shuddering as Joel's hot mouth closes around his length. If he believed in God ever, he'd be thanking Him incessantly for making Joel Miller bisexual. He groans deep in his chest and twines his fingers through Joel's short hair. "Fuuuck."
Humming around the cock in his mouth, Joel starts to jerk the base quickly. Also having learned exactly what does it for Dieter, and he hollows his cheeks around him. It will be fast and dirty; it always is when Joel blows him. It's like he still hasn't gotten used to the fact that the boy he has such a crush on would suck his dick.
"Shit, shit, shit!" One hand grasps the tree trunk behind him to steady himself but Dieter's other hand cards through Joel's hair. He doesn't like it as rough as Dieter does so he's careful not to pull too hard. "You're so fucking good at that, fuck."
Joel looks up at him, bobbing his head frantically as he swallows around him. Wanting him to fall apart and cum for him. He's gorgeous when he cums, shakily panting Joel's name as he does.
It never takes Dieter long when they're like this. The danger of potential discovery is almost as much of a turn on as the person on his knees, and Dieter's stamina can never stand up against Joel's determination to make him practically implode with desire. Mere minutes is all it takes before Dieter is gasping out his name in choked breaths. "Joel, f—fuuuck Joel, I'm gonna cum, baby, fuck, fuck, Joel!"
The first time Dieter had cum in Joel's mouth, he had nearly gagged. Sputtering from the force of the spurts hitting his tonsils, but now he's swallowing him down just like he had told Dieter to. Holding onto his hips and pulling him closer as his boyfriend bucks into his mouth and shouts his name.
Dieter crumples against the tree, eyes wide to watch Joel in awe, and pants for breath as the last rope of his cum hits his boyfriend's tongue with force. He's watched enough porn to know that he cums hard, but Joel doesn't complain about it. Sometimes he teases, but it's never mean. "H-holy shit," he huffs out, fingers instantly soothing through Joel's hair because he knows he pulled way too hard when he came.
Joel hums, swallowing the last drops before he surges to his feet and kisses him one last time. "We— we need to get back." He pants quietly. "You comin' over tonight?"
"Yeah." One more kiss, because Dieter can't help himself, and he shifts his jeans back up his legs to button them carefully. "I'll come over as soon as I can." Both boys know that that means as soon as Dad is drunk but neither of them say it. There's no use in holding the black cloud over time they get to spend together.
"Yeah." Joel nods, frowning slightly and shaking his head. "Just pack up for the weekend," he suggests.
"Okay." Dieter murmurs, nodding slightly. He grasps on for one more kiss before fixing a bit of Joel's hair that he tugged out of place. "Go. They're gonna notice you're gone if you stay longer."
Joel pulls his shorts up and nods. "I'll see you later, okay?" He swallows and tosses Dieter a grin before he turns and starts to make his way out of the woods to go work out for gym class.
******
"Can't believe you're actually fuckin' here." Dieter mutters, shaking his head at Joel. "I mean I'm not surprised you were stubborn enough to survive, but...fuck, ya know?" He huffs at how inarticulate he is for a man who used to make his living at spoken words. "Tell me about shit. You, Tommy, your life, whatever. What was..." he searches his spotty memory, barely coming up with kernels of information. "Amber, right?" The last time the two men had seen each other in any meaningful way was when Joel's wife was pregnant. But considering he has a kid with him that isn't his and is too young to be that kid anyway, Dieter isn't exactly sure what happened.
Joel's eyes slide away from Dieter's, not because he had been ashamed of his relationship with Amber. Both men had moved on from their relationship. "Yeah." He huffs quietly. "She— she left, a few months after Sarah, our daughter, was born." He tells Dieter, looking down at his watch like he always does when he thinks of her.
“Shit…” The word drags out awkwardly as Dieter rubs at the back of his neck and tries not to cringe. “I’m sorry, man. That’s bullshit. You guys seemed so happy…”
"Well..." Joel shrugs. "She wasn't happy being a mother after all, I guess." He hadn't thought about Amber in years, but it still hurts that she had abandoned him with a three-month-old baby. It had been a learning curve to be a single parent. Only his time raising his brother had helped.
“I’m sorry.” Dieter says again, slipping off the chaise he was sitting on to come sit next to Joel. He’s rarely seen a version of this man that was hurting, so it’s not something he really knows how to process. He just knows that Joel used to like having him close, so he gravitates that way. “I didn’t mean to— I mean…you know,” he mumbles incoherently.
“You didn’t know.” Joel knows he would never willingly cause him any pain. Not even when he had moved on.
Dieter bites his lip, not wanting to ask about Joel’s daughter since he had already asked one dumb question already. “So Tommy’s in Wyoming?” He settles on, hoping it isn’t a sore subject as well. He wants to sit and catch up with Joel, he’s just shit at small talk.
“Yeah.” He rolls his eyes and sighs. “Dumbass joined the Fireflies.” He huffs. “So he went out west and I had stayed in Boston.” He knows that Dieter wants to ask so he swallows. “Sarah…my daughter.” His voice is low enough that only Dieter can hear. “She died on Outbreak day.”
“Jesus.” Instinctively, Dieter reaches out and covers Joel’s hand with his, squeezing gently. “I’m so fucking sorry.”
“Well, you remember when my birthday is, right?” He asks, turning his hand and not letting the other man’s hand go. Nearly thirty years later, the touch of him still soothes.
“Oh shit.” It clicks in his mind instantly and he clutches Joel’s hand that much tighter. “She…Jesus Christ,” he huffs. “I woulda thrown myself off a goddamn bridge. I don’t know how you’re still standing.”
“It wasn’t for lack of trying the first few years.” Joel admits. “I sort of shut down.” Tommy was the only reason he had stuck around.
“Don’t blame you.” The sigh that Dieter blows out is audible and he points a thumb over his shoulder. “She’s pulled me back from the edge so many times I think she might’ve gone a little crazy herself.” His eyes cut back to Joel, though, and to their hands. “Kinda like you, back then.”
“You’re worth it.” Joel chuckles, remembering how Dieter had always kind of needed an emotional support person. It’s how he thrived.
Dieter’s habitual lopsided, lazy smile returns to his face slowly and he eyes Joel curiously. “Stay more than a night.” He asks, wondering what else has been going on in Joel’s life these past endless years. Dieter is a sentimental bastard, always has been, and nostalgic when he feels like it. “We don’t have much left, but…you don’t need to run off.”
“I—” Joel swallows and looks around. “You can’t stay here. Not without food. Even as safe as it is.”
“Something always turns up.” It’s sweet that Joel still worries, the instinct to protect Dieter apparently not having waned. “There’s a lake nearby. We fish a lot, and get some birds that way.” Like he said - it’s not a lot. But it’s enough for two.
It isn’t Joel’s place to try to make decisions for you and Dieter, but he makes his own decision to not take anything from the two of you. He won't accept any supplies if offered. He nods and looks around again. “It’s a nice place to have to spend the end of the world.” He flashes a grin. “Too bad the hot water doesn’t work.”
“You get used to filling up the industrial sink with heated water if you want a hot bath.” Dieter shrugs. His pampered lifestyle didn’t translate to the apocalypse, obviously.
“Better than freezing your ass off in a river.” Joel acknowledges, smirking at the howling Dieter would make, being cold. He had never liked cold water.
“Stay a little.” Dieter asks again, the insistence in his voice nearly a whine. “Just a little.” He huffs at himself, looking down at Joel’s hand in his. “A couple of days?”
“Your wife may not like that.” Joel prompts him gently. Just because he has a history with Dieter doesn’t mean he doesn’t know what he’s done before settling down. He won’t make poor decisions for his former lover. “You might want to ask her.”
“What makes you think I would marry a square?” It makes him laugh, more than he expected, and Dieter rolls his eyes affectionately at Joel. “If she says yes, you stay.”
“Okay.” He agrees with a small nod. “If she agrees, I’ll stay.”
******
“You two been on the road for long?” You’ve covered the basics with this kid - Ellie - and basically only managed to find out that she’s a 14-year-old bag of snarky comments, but it’s oddly reassuring that teenagers haven’t changed just because the world ended. In the big industrial kitchen there’s some water for her to drink, and she took up the offer understandably eagerly.
Ellie shrugs slightly. “Couple of months.” She tells you after she gulps down the last swallow of water. “We’ve walked a lot of miles.” She tells you. “His boots are wearing out.”
“How about yours?” You pour her another glass, knowing that you can get more from the lake. “They must be getting pretty worn, too? Clothes, too.”
“It happens.” She hasn’t wanted to complain but it’s getting harder. Especially when she’s run through all the tampons and the last time she had just stuffed her panties with an old shirt.
“There’s stuff here.” Nudging the refilled glass back across the table to her, you offer the kid as kind a smile as you can muster. “Everybody that was staying here, they left stuff behind. So there’s lots to pick from.”
“That would be cool.” She nods and takes the glass back again. “I like some of the stuff they wore back then.”
“Yeah?” That makes you almost laugh and tilt your head at her. “What stuff? I might know what room to send you to, to find it.”
“I don’t know how to describe it.” Ellie rolls her eyes. “Not like we have fashion week at FEDRA schools.” She looks around to make sure Joel isn’t close by. “You don’t have period shit, do you?” She asks furtively.
“Some.” You nod, trying to remember the exact inventory of pads you have in the closet upstairs. The nearest convenience stores, pharmacies, and even grocery store loot had all been piled into this hotel when there was just a small group of survivors, but thankfully there had only been two menstruating people in that group. “Do you need it now?” If she did, she probably needed clean clothes desperately, and wouldn’t hate a bath. You could heat some water for her to ease the pain.
“I ended yesterday.” Ellie rolls her eyes. It’s hard trying to hide that from Joel and especially hard when traveling out in the wilderness. The conversation about animals smelling her menstrual blood had been one filled with stuttered speech on Joel’s part and mortification on Ellie’s.
“I’ll pack some up for you.” What little you have left can be shared. She’s out in the wild and might not come across more…but you’re at least in a place where you can wash your rags each month. “I can’t imagine he’s remembering to check for supplies like that when you get a chance to rummage through places.”
“I’m normally on the lookout for that kind of thing.” Ellie snorts, imagining Joel buying tampons before the outbreak. He would be so fucking uncomfortable with it. Just like he was anytime she started complaining about cramps.
“I’ll scrounge up what I can for you.” Being a teenager out in the wilderness can’t be easy - even with access to tampons or pads. “I wish I had some pain killers or something to send you out with, but not getting FEDRA out here means our supplies dried up quickly.”
“Doesn’t hurt too bad.” Ellie shrugs. “Not like getting stabbed. That hurts like a motherfucker.”
“Yeah.” The abruptness of the observation makes you laugh, and you almost miss seeing Dieter amble toward through the kitchen doorway. “Yeah. Getting stabbed fucking sucks.”
“Who’s getting stabbed?” Dieter asks, brows raised and a goofy grin on his face as he makes his way to your side.
"It's a uterus thing." You assure him, happy as always to have your husband attach himself to your side. "I'm going to pack up some supplies for Ellie and get her new clothes, all that kind of stuff. There's enough to share upstairs."
“They are going to stay a couple of days.” Dieter announces, grinning at you like he’s won the lottery. “As long as you’re okay with it. Joel insisted.” He rolls his eyes as if it was never a question.
"Yeah. That's okay with me." It's not like you hadn't expected it, once you realized who Joel was to Dieter. While he's not exactly nostalgic for the entire way the world used to be, he's always talked about this particular ex with fondness. And while maybe it would have been weird twenty years ago, the world has changed. The fact is, you have resources and a roof, and they could use the help. "I'll go down and check the traps and do some fishing? Or we could all go, depending on how badly Joel and Ellie need to rest."
“I want to go!” Ellie immediately volunteers, always eager to see and do new things. There’s something going on with Joel and she figures she needs to give him some space to decide. These people have to be alright if Joel’s considering staying for a few days.
"That's the most excited I've ever seen a teenager get about fishing," you laugh, nodding to Ellie. "Alright, at the very least I'll take Ellie down to the lake and we can rustle up some dinner." What you have stored is best fleshed out with a catch of the day, and that's just fine.
“Cool.” Ellie grins, practically bouncing on her toes as Joel strides into the kitchen.
“What’s cool?”
"As long as it's okay with you, I thought I would take Ellie down to the lake to do some fishing." He seems the protective sort, something you knew to be true from Dieter's stories but is very obvious upon meeting him. "Just down to the lake. Very safe. If you wanted to look out the south windows of the hotel or sit on the back porch, you could see us easily enough."
Joel frowns and looks between the hopeful face of Ellie and the two other adults. He sees the trust that Dieter places in you and his shoulders relax slightly. “You keep your gun on you, you hear me?” He tells Ellie seriously. “Keep your eyes open too and don’t fall in the goddamn water.” He looks over at you. “She can’t swim.”
"Understood." You nod, understanding that he takes whatever guardianship he has of this girl very seriously. "If it will make you feel better, we can all go? There's enough reels. This place has a little boathouse filled up with equipment and kayaks from letting guests go out on the lake way back when."
“Shit.” Dieter chuckles. “When was the last time you went fishing, Joel?” He asks, smirking. There had been plenty of times when they were teens, but they funnily enough never caught anything.
Joel huffs and rolls his eyes. “Fine. We can all go.” He grumbles. “Wish there was beer though.” He jokes dryly.
Dieter opens his mouth excitedly only to have you point a finger at him knowingly. "You are not letting your friend touch that bathtub shit we made. It's bad enough we drink it. Joel doesn't need to be going blind from homemade moonshine."
“Moonshine.” Joel looks between the two of you and his eyes widen slightly. “I’m willing to risk it.”
"We're living in an art deco hotel, baby," Dieter reminds you, waggling his eyebrows at Joel's enthusiastic response. "If we didn't make bathtub booze it would be a sin against dramatic irony." All you can do is shake your head at them to keep from showing your amusement, otherwise Dieter will know he's won all too easily. "I'm pretty sure it has as much to do with irony as an Alanis Morrissette song, but...fine. You're both big boys. You can make your own decisions."
Joel waves his hand in front of your face. “You aren’t blind yet.” He reasons. “Has to be kinda decent.” He scoffs. “Remember that shit we used to drink? That was bad.”
"It's not far off," Dieter snorts, amusement lacing the creases in his face which are usually reserved for care or worry. "Still, I don't recommend we drink on the water." It's too out in the open, and drowning is a real concern, although you have no intention of letting the kid drink any. "We'll have some tonight?"
“Sounds good.” Joel can understand and appreciate the caution. He looks over at Ellie and nods at her. “Ready to go fishing, kiddo?”
"Hell yeah." Ellie pops up from the stool she was sitting on, excited to try something completely new.
"This way." You nod to the opposite direction that everyone came in, ready to take them through the backdoor of the kitchen and out into the remaining afternoon light. It's actually pretty out here if you ignore the highway off in the distance, and that's not hard to do with twenty years of overgrowth and a grove of trees that cropped up around the back of the hotel property. It's chilly out but not too cold yet and you're reasonably optimistic that you can catch something to eat tonight. Tomorrow you'll stay out here for longer, catching whatever you can and stocking up for a few days of visitors.
“How do you keep warm in the hotel?” Joel asks, frowning slightly. “Are there fireplaces in the rooms?”
"Some of them." When you get outside, you turn around and point to the top of the hotel. From the back, several small chimneys are visible that are hidden by the architecture and signage of the front. "That's why we turned the fourth floor into our living space. Those are the suites that have working fireplaces. The other rooms had them filled in or they weren't there at all. It seems like they were an incentive to get a suite instead of a regular room."
“Makes sense.” Joel nods and has to admit that it seems like you have a very nice set up. Too bad you didn’t have any long-term setups like a garden or animals. “I like the fact you have a lake to fish in and gather water.”
"If we knew anything about raising animals it would be better than fishing and setting traps for rabbits or squirrels." You stifle a laugh when Dieter makes a face about squirrel meat and let him take the lead when it comes to the tour.
"Garden is that way," he says, pointing to the eastern side of the building. "Traps are around the tree line. There's a river that comes through the woods to feed the lake, and there's mushrooms for foraging." He flashes Joel a cackling grin. "I know, not something most people want to eat these days. but like I said. They made me one of their own."
Joel huffs out a chuckle and shakes his head. Only Dieter could make a joke like that work. “I get it.” He rolls his eyes and looks over at where Ellie is staring at him like he’s grown a second head.
"Don't worry about it," you advise, nudging Ellie a little and smiling at your husband's ridiculous joke. "The point is, we do okay for food. It's not exactly a farm or anything, but there are a lot worse places we could have gotten stuck."
“All you need is a pen for animals.” Joel murmurs, looking out over the water and the low hanging sun. “It seems like very few infected come through here?”
"Sometimes wanderers come through. Ones that get separated from the hive. Or travelers passing through the area." Dieter grins again, but he shrugs this time. "You'd be surprised how many people still get star struck when they recognize me. Usually better than a gun for getting people to back off."
“I still can’t believe you know Dieter Fucking Bravo!” Ellie crows, shaking her head in amazement. “Like— how?”
"I have to ask," you look over at Ellie on your other side and tilt your head curiously. "How do you even know who he is? You were born after the Outbreak."
“FEDRA school I was at had his movies.” She shrugs like it was simple. “We were allowed to watch them sometimes. Apparently the dean was a big fan or some shit.”
"So you've seen more of my movies than I have." Dieter observes, unhooking the sunglasses from the front of his worn t-shirt and sliding them on his face with pride. "Never watch your own shit, kid. Not that they make movies anymore. But like...in life."
“Is it true you’ve done porn?” Ellie asks, tilting her head at Dieter. “There’s a rumor that the dean would give anything to have a sex movie of you.”
“Ellie!” Joel hisses, mortified at the question and the manners of his charge.
"Nah." The question barely phases Dieter and he brushes it away like she had asked him if he preferred hamburgers or hotdogs. He does get a kick out of Joel's shock, though, considering he was the first other person whoever made him cum. "Not that got leaked anyway," he jokes to Ellie, looking at her from over his sunglasses. "Only people seeing my junk are gonna be the ones I choose specifically." Granted that list is extremely long, but he had still made the decision each time.
“Obviously a wise policy.” Ellie intones seriously, glancing at Joel. “How do you know each other?” She demands, finding it completely cool that she’s met someone she saw on the shitty projector at school. It’s surreal and intriguing how the biggest asshole she knows seems to be on friendly terms with him.
"We went to school together." Dieter knocks into Joel's shoulder by accident as he tries to walk backward to face Ellie and play tour guide and grin at the sun all at once. "Middle and high school. Worst years of my fuckin' life if not for this asshole." His grin turns to Joel full force, and he hears you stifle a giggle, knowing he doesn't mean asshole in the least.
“Did he get all gruff and puff up at you?” Ellie squares her shoulder and holds her arms out to make herself appear broader as she gives an exaggerated ‘Joel’ expression. “You’re a pain in my goddamn ass, you know that?” She huffs out gruffly, mimicking Joel. “Stop talking. Go to sleep.” She cackles at her own impression and shoots Joel a grin, knowing he won’t do anything but roll his eyes and huff under his breath.
"Sort of." The lopsided expression on Dieter's face is soft when he turns his head to look at Joel. "More like...You're a pain in my goddamn ass. Don't be such an idiot. Help me finish my homework." His imitation of Joel is more like an imitation of Ellie's imitation, making it all the more ridiculous and worth laughing about.
“You were being an idiot.” Joel insists, rolling his eyes even though he can’t quite stop the grin that slips through his serious facade. “And you were better at the English shit. You had to help me so we could do other things.”
"Other things?" Ellie waggles her eyebrows the way she had seen Dieter do, thinking it was hilarious even the first time he did it. "Joel, were you bad?" The question is nothing short of gleeful, like she's relishing every second of insight into his former life.
Joel rolls his eyes and scoffs. “Yeah.” He tells her. “We were totally bad.” They had actually been pretty good kids now that he was looking back, but at the time, it was about sex and keeping Dieter from getting his ass beaten.
"Did you like...beat people up and stuff?" Since Ellie's only frame of reference for pre-Outbreak high school is books and movies, she goes straight to what she knows from those. "Sneak out behind the building to smoke cigarettes?" She gasps excitedly. "Did you smoke pot?!"
“I only beat up people who fucked with Dieter, or my brother.” Joel admits. “And of course we smoked pot.” He huffs, pointing at Dieter. “You don’t think this asshole didn’t do drugs in high school?”
Dieter's delighted chuckle makes Ellie crow and she playfully punches Joel in the arm as the group makes their way around to the front of the boat house. "I knew you used to be cool. Oh man – oh man, Dieter, I need stories. Seriously!"
“Who says I’m not cool now?” Joel demands gruffly, fully aware that Ellie thinks he’s lame. Even Sarah would think he’s lame if she were alive.
"Dude." Ellie's gaze could cut glass when she looks over at him. "I've spent every day for months with you. I know cool. You're not cool."
“You know cool, huh?” Joel snorts and rolls his eyes. “Just because I’m trying to keep your ass alive, I’m not cool.”
"'Fraid I have to argue with that." Dieter's lazy smile is pointed at Joel again. "But Joel Miller was very fucking cool. Guess I must have stolen it all away over time." Sucked it out through his cock is the undertone of the comment, but he doubts the kid gets that.
Joel chuckles, not missing the hot glance that Dieter is sending him. “Your wife.” He reminds the actor quietly.
"Knows all about it," you laugh, dismissing it and hustling Ellie past the two men into the boat house to get her a life jacket and a reel.
Joel slows down, trying to figure out if you are talking about the past or the very obvious hints Dieter seems to be dropping. Or maybe he’s just reading too much into it.
"Joel!" When you toss his name over your shoulder from inside the boathouse you can't exactly see where he's gone to. "You gonna join us?"
“Yeah— uh, coming!” Joel jogs slightly to catch up, wondering where the hell Dieter had found a woman like you.
It doesn't take too long to get suited up, and the four of you pull the lone rowboat out of the boathouse to bring down to the lakeside. It's a little too heavy for just you and Dieter to manage so you haven't used it in years, but you've kept it clean just in case. For the four of you it's perfect, and gives you plenty of space to collect any fish you catch.
Joel chuckles, obviously sensing he’s being put to work and he takes the oars after he helps you drag it into the water. “Don’t flip the boat.” He warns Ellie as the three of you climb into it. “Or you’ll sleep in wet clothes.”
“She wouldn’t make me.” Ellie points a thumb in your direction. “Turns out your friends are the cool ones, I guess.”
“Smart ass.” Joel grunts before he starts to row out onto the lake once everyone is situated in the boat.
It takes a little while for Ellie to get the hang of fishing, but it’s a generally quiet activity with a lot of long waiting periods involved, so conversation turns over again and again while the four of you sit together. Ellie tells you and Dieter about her school and Boston, Joel grunts his agreement or disagreement, Dieter tells a story that he realizes halfway through probably wasn’t appropriate, and you finish up with a censored version of the rest of the events. It’s a good system, honestly, and the four of you find yourselves laughing in between catching a few medium-to-smaller sized fish. It doesn’t matter what they are, you’ll eat them no matter what, but at least they all look clear-eyed and healthy when you pull them up into the boat.
“The sun’s about gone.” Joel observes, handing his pole to Ellie and picking up the oars. “Ready to go back?” This is your area and you will know if it’s safe or not to be out past sundown.
“Yeah, I think we have more than enough for tonight.” There’s more than one fish per person, which is great, and if you don’t eat it all tonight you’ll salt some of it to preserve for a night in the future. Sometimes you swear the spirits of pioneer women are out here whispering secrets in your ears because you certainly didn’t fucking know how to preserve fish before the world ended.
“Great! I’m fucking starving!” Ellie chortles, making Joel puff.
“Ellie! Watch your goddamn language.” He pants out as he rows back to shore.
Dieter snorts, knowing full well how much Joel swears himself, and nudges his friend. “When did you get so prim?” He teases.
“She’s a kid.” He points out, knowing that his own language was bad at that age but he hadn’t cursed around adults.
“Mmhmm.” Dieter laughs the way only Dieter can - slightly delirious and fully amused. “Whatever you say, Joely.”
The only reason Joel doesn’t shoot Dieter a finger is because his hands are busy. “Kiss my ass, Black.” Dieter’s real last name comes off his tongue naturally.
“Whooooooooooa!” Ellie inhales like she’s swallowing a tornado, eyes wide, and then doubles over in cackling laughter. “I fucking love it here.” She declares when she gasps for air again.
Joel chuckles at her, aware that she’s not had a whole lot of fun lately and deserves to enjoy it. If it weren’t for the need to find Tommy, he would consider staying here. “Easy, you’ll fart if you laugh so hard.” He drolls.
Ellie snorts at that and Dieter chuckles, squeezing your knee as you shake your head and laugh beside him. “I’ll heat some extra water so you guys can take baths,” you promise them, figuring that a little relaxation would do them both good. “Dieter can grab fresh clothes for Joel and I’ll find some for Ellie.”
“We can help.” Joel offers. “I don’t want to create extra work for you.” He can’t imagine Dieter is incredibly helpful on the best of days with it just being the two of you.
“It’s been a while since we had guests.” You shrug, but nod in acceptance of the offer. “Actually, it’s been so long that I can’t even remember the last time I thought of anyone as a guest.”
“It’s so cool to live in a hotel like this.” Ellie huffs. “This is better than your sheep farm fantasy, Joel.”
“Sheep farm fantasy?” Dieter almost chokes. “What the hell is she talking about?”
“Jesus,” Joel rolls his eyes. “Nothing like that. I just said that if I could do anything after this trip, I would have a little ranch with sheep or something.”
“Anything?” Another guffaw falls from Dieter’s lips and he throws his head back in amusement. “Anything in the world and you choose sheep rancher? What happened to Joel Miller, Badass Rockstar?” In their adolescent dreams of fame and fortune, Joel always dreamt of being a singer. He would hum Dieter to sleep on his worst nights and they would sneak into the rock shows that Austin had to offer on the best nights.
“Holy shit, Joel.” Ellie looks both surprised and impressed. “You sing?”
Joel shrugs but Dieter isn’t done telling his secrets. “He sings and plays both guitar and piano.” His former lover boasts. “He loves music.”
“Suddenly I regret not being able to tune the baby grand in the ballroom.” When the rowboat softly bumps the shore, you gather up the bucket full of fish at your feet. “Don’t worry, Joel,” you offer him an olive branch even though you’re curious. “We won’t make you put on a floor show.”
Joel snorts. “It’s been a long time since I’ve had a piano in front of me.” He admits, although he wouldn’t mind having a guitar to play.
"It sounds like a dying cat no matter which key you hit." Dieter giggles, knowing full well that it is like the sound of nails on a chalkboard to your ears. He tinkers with it to annoy you sometimes.
“You couldn’t play to save your life.” Joel huffs at Dieter, remembering the times he had tried to teach him how to play. “Don’t tell me you tortured your wife with your horrible playing?”
"Mayyyyyybe." His former lover grins unapologetically. "I'm shit with music and always have been."
"Which makes it all the more hilarious that the movie he was filming here had him playing a musician." You had found it endlessly hilarious when they were courting Dieter for the role, knowing full well that they would have to dub his vocals.
“Jesus Christ.” Joel winces. “I’m glad that one didn’t make it out. I would have such a hard time sitting through that one.”
"Oh, it wasn't actually going to be me singing." Grabbing the bucket from your hand and putting out his arm to help you out of the boat, Dieter sighs dramatically at Joel's teasing. "They had some American Idol runner up locked into a contract to sing for me. Be glad for that guy that he didn't have to listen to me garbling along when he did the dubbing."
“Poor bastard.” Joel chuckles and sends Dieter an indulgent grin. “I’ve listened to you singing too many nights when you were staying over.”
"Awwe, you guys did sleepovers?" Ellie pops out of the boat with little help, flashing Joel a shit-eating grin. "Did you guys like...stay up all night gossiping and painting your nails?" She just can't imagine a fun, young Joel being a normal teenager. It baffles her mind, so obviously she has to joke about it.
“Oh totally.” Joel imitates a valley girl voice. “We did facials and all that.” He knows Dieter will giggle at the double entendre built into that joke. Grinning at Ellie as her eyes widen.
"Joel was infamous for his facials." Dieter almost doubles over, barely able to get the words out for laughing. "Coverage. Good, good coverage."
“Jesus Christ.” Joel can’t help but crack up as well, reaching out and slapping Dieter’s back as he joins him in the hysterical laughter.
"I don't get it." Ellie looks to you for clarification but you just shake your head and nod for her to follow you back up to the hotel.
"Don't worry about it, El," you tell her, stifling your own laughter much better than the men had. "It's a guy thing."
It takes a few minutes for them to calm down, both of them grinning when they stop laughing. “Fuck it’s good to see you.” Joel tells Dieter breathlessly.
"You too, baby." The last word is quiet. Soft and sweet, and more than a little nostalgic when Dieter smiles much more shyly at Joel.
Joel doesn’t give a shit if Ellie sees, but he still checks to make sure that you and the girl have gone inside and when he sees the coast is clear, he grabs Dieter’s shirt and pulls him close. Pressing his lips to Dieter’s for the first kiss in nearly thirty years.
It would have been a surprise if Dieter didn't still remember how to push every single one of Joel's buttons, so instead it's sloppy and enthusiastic. Dieter grins against Joel's lips, feeling victorious and carefree, which is no mean feat in a world so laden with worries. He happily holds on for however long Joel allows, humming to himself and gripping his former lover's hips in both hands to keep him close.
It’s been so goddamn long since Joel has felt this sense of wonder. Clinging to it just like he clings to Dieter as he starts to deepen the kiss. He knows he’s married but from what he can tell, you don’t mind.
Feeling things rush back to him - nostalgia and the tinted memories of adolescence make everything feel more exciting and more romantic by nature - Dieter moans softly when Joel leans into the moment and lets the older man lick into his mouth as easily as breathing. It doesn't matter how long the moment goes on for, he knows that you will understand. Mostly because there is a very important fact that Dieter hasn't mentioned yet to Joel.
It’s only when Joel has to come up for air that he pulls away from Dieter. Nearly confused as to where he is as he comes back to reality. “Shit.” He groans softly. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have—”
"Don't be stupid." Dieter chides, sounding remarkably like his younger self for a moment. "She won't care. I mean...she might care that she didn't get to watch, but that's it."
“Still like to show off, huh?” Dieter has always been a little bit of a showy shit, and it’s nice to know that some things haven’t changed.
"I went to Hollywood." The dramatic exasperation in his voice is just for show, making Dieter giggle in response. "Plus, she likes to watch. And be watched. We're pretty evenly matched, to be honest."
“That’s—that’s good.” There hadn’t been a huge dramatic break up. No harsh words or bitter feelings. Hell, no one had known Dieter and Joel were together. But there’s always been a slight regret in not knowing what happened to his old lover. Wondering sometimes what had happened to the first romantic love he had ever had. So it’s good to find out that he’s been happy. Joel gives Dieter a smile and nods. “Really good.”
"No pouting," he chides, shaking his head to make his maniac curls fly in every direction. The last thing Dieter wants is a bummed-out Joel. He's never liked Joel upset. Even thinking about it sucked. "When I said you should stay, I meant you should have fun."
“I don’t…understand.” Joel’s brow wrinkles in confusion, frowning as he stares at his former lover.
"Baby..." Dieter smirks, smacking a kiss on Joel's cheek. "You made the prenup." To him, it is the ultimate compliment. That he had kept Joel in his heart and mind for decades. "You're my freebie."
“Your…freebie….” Again, confusion clouds his face for a moment before he finally clinks. “Oh…oh… really?” He blinks and looks around as if the hotel would provide an answer. “A hall pass, for me?”
“Why would I waste it on a guy that wouldn’t live up to you?” Dieter shrugs like it’s the most logical thing in the world. “You don’t have to. If you have somebody or would feel weird about it. But considering you just kissed me?” He grins devilishly. “She let me share her freebie, so I’m sure she’d like to share you, too.”
“Jesus, Dee.” Joel can’t even deny that the idea is one that makes his cock twitch in his jeans. “We used to talk about that.” Two bisexual boys fucking obviously talked about the girls they liked and how they would like to share one. “Was her freebie a guy or girl?” He asks curiously.
“Girl.” And Dieter still gets a hell of a thrill thinking about it, through the haze of a twenty-year-old memory. “Fuck if I can remember her name now. My memory’s gone to shit. Some bendy as fuck Broadway actress that I ended up actually doing a film with. She was ecstatic.”
“So you’ve only fucked one other person other than your wife in twenty years?” He’s doubtful, but who knows.
“Nah.” That sounds ridiculous even to Dieter, though he does love that Joel is so skeptical. He always knew him best of anyone. “The others were special circumstances. Like the one woman who was traveling through and stayed with us for about a month. She decided she’d rather stay warm and we were kinda bored with each other at the time. Or the guy who got separated from his group and ended up here for a week or two about…six years ago? Seven years ago? I dunno. He just wanted to fuck a movie star and pretend things were the way they used to be. He only wanted her to watch. But you?” He raises both eyebrows clear above his sunglasses. “You still hold the record for prettiest cock I’ve ever fucked. And…” There is a flash – just a flash – where the mask slips and Dieter shrugs. “You’re you.”
“I’m…me…” Joel puts his hands on his hips and looks around for a second as he thinks. He wants to, badly. “I want to hear it from her.” He decides. “And I want to—to have you both.” He steps closer and bites his lip. “You— there hasn’t been another man since you, Dee.” He confesses softly.
Dieter isn’t one to hesitate when something he wants is within reach, and right now Joel is two inches away, so he grabs right onto the front of his shirt and tugs him in, pressing his lips hard against Joel’s. “Sentimental bastard,” he teases. “And I know she’ll say yes. Caught her checking out your ass in the boathouse.”
“Shut the fuck up.” Few would ever mistake the growl as nothing but angry, but Dieter just grins at him, knowing that he’s embarrassed. For as popular as Joel had been in school, he hadn’t been assertive when it came to relationships until he was in them.
The leering grin on Dieter’s face is so fucking pleased that he lets out a manic little giggle. “Oh yeah,” he looks very pleased with himself - or perhaps with you. “Silver Fox works for you.”
Joel rolls his eyes but he can feel his cock harden. “So what have you imagined?” He asks quietly. “Since I’m your pass?”
“It would be easier to tell you what I haven’t imagined.” The lack of a creative mind was never Dieter’s problem, and with the promise of bringing fantasy to reality tantalizingly close he feels that giddiness of a kid about to get a mountain of presents for his birthday. “Depends on whether you just want to fuck me, or if you want to fuck my wife, too.” His eyebrows waggle again in that signature suggestive way. “Good thing you’re staying for a few days.”
“If the offer is there…” Joel wouldn’t turn down a chance to touch either one of you, especially if it was a shared experience and want.
“Good.” That’s all Dieter needs to hear, and he reaches out and strokes his thumb over Joel’s hip to turn him toward the hotel. “We’re going to have a very fun conversation after dinner.”
“Any conversation with you is always interesting.” Joel huffs, remembering the off the wall comments that would come out of his mouth.
“There you two are.” When Dieter and Joel stroll into the kitchen they look simultaneously more relaxed and excitable, and you make a mental note to ask Dieter what happened outside after Ellie is out of earshot. Right now she’s sitting five feet away peeling vegetables. “Beginning to think you ran off on us.”
“Nahhhhh.” Dieter winks at you. “You know I would never leave you.” He comes over to stand behind you and kisses the back of your neck. “I was showing Joel the star you claim is a satellite.”
“There’s a satellite out there?” Ellie’s seemingly perpetual state of excitement spikes again.
"Hundreds of them." Joel nods. "Driftin' around up there, unused anymore." He doubts any country has retained enough of a presence to use their satellites, but who knows considering communications were cut almost from the start. You only know what FEDRA wanted you to, and that wasn't much.
“Cooooool.” It’s cooler than peeling potatoes, anyway, and that’s what she’s doing right now.
“It makes the world a little more fun to think something ordinary like a star might be something extraordinary like a still working satellite or a UFO,” you shrug your shoulders but not enough to deter Dieter from showering you in those little bits of affection he loves to give. “It’s my make believe.”
"The aliens are avoiding this planet like the plague." Joel snorts, moving over to where the fish are sitting in the sink and pulls out his knife to clean them.
“As they fucking should.” Dieter agrees without an ounce of irony.
“Dee?” Nudging your husband slightly, you can’t help but sigh a little. He’s too fucking affectionate for his own good. It’s part of how you fell for him. “Will you bring in some firewood for the stove, baby?” The old gas lines did nothing now, but through some crafty tinkering, the ovens and stones in the big hotel kitchen had been converted into wood burning operations.
"Sure." Dieter bobbles his head and looks around the kitchen with a grin. "It's like a family dinner." He observes before he darts out the door to get the wood from the pile.
“Something that most of us haven’t had in a very long time.” It hits your own nostalgia in a very different way than seeing Joel hits for Dieter, but still gives you some nice feelings of warm and fuzzy along with him.
Joel grunts, not commenting on that as he slices the fish open to clean them out. "So tell me how you met Dieter?" He asks, glancing over at you before looking back down at his work.
“I was his personal assistant. His manager pulled me out of a stack of a hundred resumes of people clawing to get to work in Hollywood.” That much of what Dieter had said earlier was true. “It was crazy hard work, but I built my life around him. It kind of snuck up on me that I’d fallen in love with him in the process.”
“It’s good though. Dieter’s always been…easy to care about when you peel through the layers of bullshit.” Joel knows exactly the trauma that had forged the actor's egocentric ways and he doesn’t blame him. Never did.
“He’s genuine. Which people don’t expect.” It’s nice to be able to talk to someone who knows the real Dieter from years ago. The unvarnished, unmasked version of him that is adoring and loyal and full of life. Hollywood had made him jaded and paranoid. Well, the drugs didn’t help that last part. “He’ll always tell you the truth to your face, and it can come across badly if you’re expecting him to schmooze and be a fake nice guy like a lot of other actors.”
“No, I can’t imagine that would go over well.” Joel snorts, although he was pretty much the same way. “It seems like you complement each other very well.”
“I soften his rough edges and he makes me more bold.” The two of you have developed a whole world all your own at this point, as you’re sure a lot of people around the world have. You can’t be the only ones who are isolated like this. “I'm glad to finally meet you, though. He’s always spoken very fondly of you.”
“I can’t imagine why.” Joel snorts, shaking his head in amusement over what Dieter had probably told you. There were times Dieter had no filter, especially when he was around people he trusted.
“You believed in him.” It’s not like you’re going to tell Joel in front of the kid that Dieter had told you explicit details of their sex life. You’re honest, not tactless. “And you supported him. I know you were young, but having that support when you’re that age is vital.”
“What did he need support over?” Ellie scoffs, still peeling her potatoes and glancing over at you with a curious look. “There’s something you’re not saying.”
“It wasn’t easy for him, being out of the closet in Texas back then.” It’s not something Dieter has ever hidden, so you know he won’t mind if you tell Ellie. You’re just careful to tiptoe around Joel’s role in the whole thing. “He was a target for every kind of awful person. But Joel protected him.”
“What, where you guys like secretly dating or something?” You couldn’t mean gay because obviously you wouldn’t be married to Dieter if he was. So you must mean bisexual. She eyes Joel as he stands at the sink.
Joel considers lying to her for a second, maybe two. Simply because she would be an annoying shit about asking questions. But the only regret he had about being with Dieter was that he hadn’t been open with it. Had kept it quiet. He doesn’t even look over his shoulder when he answers. “What of it?”
“You dick!” Ellie’s jaw drops and she practically rockets out of her seat to lean across the counter that she’s been sitting at. “You never told me that!” There’s no malice in it, not really, but a fair amount of surprise as she processes this puzzle piece of information.
Joel chuckles and turns to stare at her. “The fuck you expect, kid? Introduce myself and tell you how I swing?” He had damn near choked when she had found Bill’s dirty magazine. He glances over at you. “It’s not a secret, just not…common knowledge, ya know?”
“Yeah, I know.” The words are so much more solemn than you or Joel expect, and the expression in Ellie’s eyes is so much darker when she looks between you. “It just…it would’ve been easier…to be myself.” She murmurs, suddenly looking away from both of you. “If I had known, ya known? Then I wouldn’t have been all weird about the magazine or whatever. Cause fuck knows I don’t want to look at that shit.” It seems like the longest time that she pauses, gulping down fear, before she looks up again. “I’m fucking gay, Joel. We could’ve like…be honest with each other a lot earlier.”
“Shit kiddo.” Joel puts the fish down and wipes his hands on a towel as he turns and settles his hip on the sink, giving her his full attention. “You could have always been yourself around me.” He tells her gruffly. “Don’t judge cargo.” He sends her a small smirk, remembering the conversation in the truck later on that day. Although his feelings for the girl had changed since then. “I understand though. Dieter got his ass beat for liking boys and girls and I fucking hated it. Kicked their asses every fucking time I could. You can’t help who you love.”
“You wouldn’t have been the first asshole to drop a kid on the side of the road somewhere for being queer.” She contends, even though the water in her eyes has softened her expression measurably.
“All the shit I’ve done…” Joel shakes his head. “Never would have done that.” He promises, reaching out to ruffle her hair before he remembers they are still fishy and stops himself. “Any other questions?”
“Are you mad that I threw that dirty magazine out the window before you got to look at it?” Ellie asks, mischievous mood restored and eyebrows waggling.
Joel frowns at her. “Asshole,” he huffs, reaching out with his fishy hand on purpose this time to make Ellie shriek and duck away. “No, they weren’t my type.” He grunts. “Dieter is.”
“Dieter is what?” As if on cue, the man re-emerges in the doorway with a bucket full of split wood and looks around curiously at the mention of his name.
“Of course he comes when he hears his name.” Joel snorts, smirking at the man in question. “My type.” He clarifies, nodding towards Ellie. “She asked if we dated in high school.”
“I wondered if she would figure it out. Smart kid.” The grin that Dieter shoots her is almost proud. “Yeah. He, uh…he was my first relationship.”
“And you were…okay…with being a secret?” There’s no judgment in her tone, just raw curiosity. Being able to talk about this feels amazing, especially with adults and not the assholes she had gone to school with. She gets it, kids are dicks no matter when it is.
“We fought about it sometimes.” It’s a lot for Dieter to admit, especially to the kid, but he likes her. He likes her and she’s a straight shooter. Sassy like he wishes he had been brave enough to be at her age. “But it wasn’t about shame. It was about survival.”
"That's one of my regrets." Joel admits, looking down at his hands and sighing slightly. "That I wasn't more assertive. But we thought I would be kicked off the team and then I couldn't protect Dieter like I had been. But I should have just not given a fuck."
“You would have ended up disowned, too.” Dieter points out, shaking his head as he loads firewood into the stove. When Ellie makes a noise of confusion, he shrugs. “My old man didn’t want a fa—a queer kid — staining the family name. The second I graduated high school I was on my own.”
"At least you could stay with us over the summer until college started." It had been the last summer that Joel and Dieter had together. He had taken his scholarship to USC and he hadn't come back for a long time. Until Joel had been with Amber. "And your old man was nothing but a drunk asshole. Fuck him."
“My point is that if you had come out, we both would have been out on our asses.” He rolls his eyes at Joel as though it were obvious. “And you would have hated LA. So don’t say you would’ve just come with me and been okay.”
Joel feels the guilt of the other secret that he had kept. "Yeah, I know...." He swallows and shrugs his shoulders. "I wouldn't have had - uh, her and I can't imagine that." He hadn't ever told Ellie about Sarah and he would prefer not to.
“It’s okay.” Dieter shakes his head and stands up. Brushing his hands off is just a motion to take up space before he drags the bin of wood a few feet away. “We don’t need to get into it. Just…” he sighs and looks to Ellie. “Nobody here is straight, kid. So don’t worry about it.”
"Amber knew." Joel blurts out, unsure of why he is getting into it more when Dieter just gave him an out. "I told her...before we saw you, that last time." He takes a breath. "She didn't take it well."
“Jesus.” Dieter’s face draws long, staring at Joel when his head whips around. “She—she acted like she had barely ever heard of me.” It had actually fucked him up pretty badly for a little while. Thinking that he had meant so little to Joel that he hadn't even told his wife that they were friends? It had wrecked him.
"No." Joel shakes his head. "She— she couldn't handle the fact that I had been with you – that I was bisexual. It was 'immoral' according to her." He scowls. "After...six months after I saw you last, she just packed up and was ready to leave by the time I got home from work. Told me she couldn't be with me anymore...and left us."
“Holy shit.” For a second it’s not quite clear who’s spoken, but you reach out slowly to put your hand on Ellie’s shoulder. “C’mon,” you murmur quietly, nodding toward the door. Joel and Dieter clearly need some privacy.
“I didn’t – I’m sorry that I—” He doesn’t know what he’s sorry for. He doesn’t regret his relationship with Dieter. He loved him, despite never saying the words out loud. “I would have never been with her to begin with if I had known she was like that.” You and the girl are out of the room. “She left me to raise Sarah on my own.”
“What are you sorry for?” Dieter sputters, immediately moving to Joel like a magnet. His instinct is to hold him. To offer comfort. But he’s not sure if it’s wanted. “The fucking fact of me ruined your marriage…I’m sorry.”
“Fuck her.” Joel hisses, shaking his head. “She couldn’t accept me for who I was, accept the first person I loved. I— no, you have nothing to be sorry for.”
“What did you just say?” Jaw slackened and eyes wide, Dieter stares. Those were not the words he expected to hear out of Joel’s mouth.
“What?” Joel frowns. “Fuck her? You know I don’t put up with small minded bigots. No matter who they are.”
“No, not that.” Dieter flails out of pure confusion. “You just — you said you loved me.”
“Of fucking course I loved you.” Joel growls, looking at Dieter in surprise. “You knew how I felt…didn’t you?”
“I…” He had thought so. Hoped so. But never knew absolutely or for sure. Over the years he had alternately convinced himself that Joel had felt the same or that he had completely exaggerated the way his first boyfriend felt about him. It all depended on how he was feeling about his other relationships at the time. “I was never sure.” He admits finally, feeling his shoulders sag under the weight of actually hearing the words. “You never said.”
This time it’s Joel that moves, reaching out and grabbing Dieter by the back of the neck and hauling him close to kiss him. Similar to the same way he had first kissed him in the boy’s bathroom so many years ago. Except this time, he doesn’t pull away almost immediately. Instead, he groans against his lips.
There’s something so volatile in the moment that Dieter doesn’t move at first. He’s frozen with the fear that if he so much as thinks the wrong thought that it will all disappear. It’s amazing that the spark between them doesn’t seem to have faded - or at least the attraction is very obviously still there. But that the emotion remains? That much feels like a miracle. Or maybe, like he debated so much years ago, maybe the love he still feels is entirely one sided.
Joel pulls away and shuffles slightly, aware that there was no response from Dieter despite the kiss they had shared earlier. “You never forget your first love.” He adds awkwardly. “At least I don’t.”
“I forget a lot of shit.” Dieter half-chuckles at himself, huffing a little as he presses into Joel’s space again. “But not the important things. And never you.”
“I—I should have said it.” Joel admits quietly. “Shoulda told you.” All of his regret centers around Dieter and Sarah but he could try to set things right with one of them.
“Better late than never.” Having Joel back within his grasp for even just a little while means more to Dieter than he could possibly express, and he pulls the man close now to rest his forehead against Joel’s shoulder with a sigh. “Still means more than you know.”
Joel nods, wrapping his arm around Dieter for a moment before he pulls back. “It’s good to see you.” He huffs.
“You do have a soft spot.” Dieter laughs, leaning into the warmth of Joel’s arms. “Dredging up all this old shit and letting the kid know who you were? And you still missed me.” He won’t claim that it doesn’t make him happy, or feed that part of him that still struggles with self doubt even though it’s been twenty years since the public eye stopped caring about celebrities for very good reason. The only person’s opinion he’s ever held as high as Joel’s is yours.
“Yeah, shut up.” He grumbles, even though he shoots Dieter a grin. “Get the damn fire started so we can eat sometime in the next few days.”
“You misssed me.” Dieter singsongs, smacking a kiss on Joel’s cheek before pulling away. It’s better that the moment breaks now. That he doesn’t keep pushing. That he doesn’t force Joel to push him away. Because that would hurt far, far worse than years of wondering had.
“Surprised you survived.” Joel admits, slightly choked up about finding out that his fears had been unfounded. Happy that the bright star of his childhood still shone.
Dieter shakes his head and laughs, knowing that Joel has every reason to be surprised. “Wouldn’t have without her.” He can admit to that easily. You have been keeping him afloat since the day you met. “She’s…honestly, the only person I ever loved as much as you.”
“I’m glad you found her.” Of that Joel can be completely sure of. Dieter always had a startling lack of self-preservation when it came to life skills. “Of course you would live in a hotel at the end of the world.” He had always dreamed of living in a hotel and traveling the world when they were younger.
“She thought that…that if we went to a QZ, that FEDRA would make me a figurehead.” It wasn’t too far off, really. It had happened to other people in the public eye and there was no reason they couldn’t have done it to Dieter as well. “Fuck the government in the first place, but trying to make me a pawn? We were better off here.”
“Yeah, here is better.” He won’t disagree with that, FEDRAs ironclad fist had chaffed even though Joel had done what he wanted for the most part. “It’s good you stayed here.”
“It’s getting harder.” The stove is stubborn but he gets it lit and stands back again. “Fewer fish, less rain, bad crop seasons. The earth is healing but at the same time it’s not.” He snorts. “I feel like I’m prepping for a production of The Crucible.”
Joel chuckles, but he knows that resources are getting harder to find. “I’m going to Wyoming. It’s where I last heard from Tommy.” He offers.
“Yeah.” Dieter’s head bobs in response. “And to drop off the girl, right?” As if Joel could let her go on her own. Dieter knows him better than that.
“Yeah— she’s important to the Fireflies. They have some lab and can make a cure.” Joel doesn’t know anything about the science, but it would be nice for the fucking world to be able to be rebuilt.
“Well…I hope it all goes well.” It will be a good thing for the world, if it works. But Dieter’s life won’t really change that much. Isolation has kept the two of you reasonably safe even if it is difficult.
“Have you ever thought of what you’ll do when supplies get low?” Joel asks quietly, wondering if you’ve come up with some plan.
“We always assumed there would be a day when we would have to move on.” Dieter isn’t completely useless in the kitchen and he picks up peeling the last potato that Ellie had left on the cutting board. “At this point I was starting to wonder if things would hold out until one of us was too old or sick to travel, but it’s not looking that way.”
“The road is dangerous.” Joel admits, going back to cleaning the fish. “And there is safety in numbers.” He hedges on offering them a place, feeling you might not be ready to leave the sanctuary of your home. “More eyes to watch for danger.”
“Or more people to be loud and attract attention.” Dieter shrugs, knowing he isn’t exactly the world’s most subtle or graceful human being. “People like you and her…you’re survivors. Hell, I bet even the kid could kick my ass if push came to shove.” When he shrugs again he’s looking down, mouth shut and lip bitten as if that’s the key to keeping it that way. To keeping in the thought that hurts too much to say.
“Doesn’t mean you’re weak.” Joel reasons. “Never have been. You’ve always been stronger than me.”
“Not up here.” Tapping his head for effect makes Dieter shrug again. A helpless motion if ever there was one. “Clever is what keeps people alive these days. Clever and quick. Like you, and her, and the kid.”
One of Dieter’s faults was that never truly believed he was good enough. All of his formative years being treated like shit and then worse when his father discovered his sexuality had done a number on his self-esteem. “You’re clever enough to align yourself with people who care about you. Who will do anything to ensure you survive.” He offers instead of arguing a point Dieter wouldn’t believe. “And I bet you’d do anything to protect your wife.”
“I’d die for her.” There is no question of hesitation in that for him. Just like there is no question that he would still die for Joel.
“It takes bravery, cleverness to understand that, even more so to mean it.” Joel tells him. “Stop selling yourself short, Black.”
“If you ever write an inspirational monologue, I’ll be sure to read it over the radio for you.” He huffs, unwilling to take the compliment. “But you’ll have to find a radio first. We don’t have one. Fuckin’ things fry your brain.”
Joel chuckles and rolls his eyes. “Better than the fungus.” He banters, finishing up the fish and washing his hands in a small bowl of water. “Do you have salt?”
“Cupboard behind you.” Some things were still in abundance, thankfully. The hotel had had recent food delivery when the Outbreak hit, and whole pallets of spices had been stocked in the kitchen.
Joel hums as he looks through the spices available. “Mind if I use a few of these?” He asks, looking over his shoulder. When Dieter shakes his head, Joel picks out a few that he’s sure will make the fish taste incredible and brings them over to the table. “You remember the shit we used to cook?” He chuckles, shaking his head.
“Calling it cooking is generous. I’m surprised Tommy survived some of the shit we made.” When Joel’s parents would be gone and Dieter would stay over, there was often no cash for pizza or fast food, but a fridge full of ingredients that required cooking. Cooking that they had not been very good at.
“At least it means that we can stomach the shit we have to eat now.” Joel laughs. “Although heartburn is a bitch now.”
“Right?” It’s a son of a bitch and Dieter groans. “Not like we’re eating pizza or lasagna or anything like that, though. I hate to think it could be worse.”
“Not without antacids.” Joel huffs. “We’re getting fuckin’ old.” He wouldn’t ever say it like that around the kid, but he’s feeling his age. “I’m 56 fuckin’ years old.”
“It stopped mattering twenty years ago.” The peeled potatoes need to be diced and Dieter hunts down a knife to keep working. “The fact that we’re still alive is either a miracle or a punishment.”
“Probably a little of both.” Joel carefully seasons the fish and sighs. “Although I can’t believe that you are fucking sober 20 years.”
“It’s not like I’m not trying.” Dieter scoffs. “You do remember the words bathtub moonshine, don’t you?”
“I meant drugs.” Joel snorts. “Ironic since I was a supplier in the QZ.”
“Other people still have drugs?!” The look on Dieter’s face is absolutely scandalized, like it’s his birthday and someone just told him he could never have presents ever again. “It’s been twenty years! Are you telling me the drug trade survived and I’ve been out here using my imagination like a chump?”
“Traded Hydros for ration cards with the FEDRA guards.” Joel can’t help but smirk at the horror on his former lover’s face. It was very cute. Every time he got a supply in, he had thought about Dieter.
“Real stuff?” He asks and crumples onto a stool when Joel nods yes. “What a waste. I would’ve given you ration cards and a blow job.”
Fuck. Joel’s eyes widen slightly and his cock twitches in his jeans. He doubts Dieter had lost any talent in that smart mouth of his, although he knows he’s rusty in the dick sucking department. “Shit.” He groans. “You would have gotten them for free.”
That just makes his former lover smirk and throw him a wink across the counter. “And you still would’ve gotten your dick sucked.”
“Who’s to say I didn’t get my dick sucked anyway?” Joel teases. Dieter hasn’t been celibate; he’s been married so it’s not like he hasn’t gotten his fair share of sex.
“I’m sure you have.” After all, he had been honest when he said the silver fox look worked for Joel. He was always handsome, and clearly aging didn’t hurt his looks at all. “It would be a damn shame if you didn’t. I’m just saying I would have been the one doing it.”
“You could never resist.” He couldn’t remember how many times he woke up with his dick in Dieter’s mouth when he spent the night. Not that he minded.
Dieter shrugs unapologetically. “It’s a good dick.”
______
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Chevalier Michel: Show we a new side of you (his pov) Translation Part 1
Hello everyone! I come back with yet another translation of Chevalier election reward story. The story is very long and entirely in his pov as well as fully voiced. (Even his inner thoughts were voiced, it truly was a delight to the ears.) It also comes with its own cg.
Since the story is quite long and naturally divide into 3 parts, this translation will also be done in 3 parts.
Thank you very much to @jenaiea, who gave me the story so that i could translate it. I hope everyone enjoy reading this as much as i enjoyed translating it.
Please give a like and a reblog or comment so that I'd know my work is appreciated. (Could motivate me to release the other parts faster hehe)
NB: If you wanna be tagged for the next parts please say so in the comments.
I never had something that could be called a hobby in my life
I do love reading books but that also has a practical side to it. So I do not do it entirely for pleasure.
I never had anything I did just because I liked it.
That is, until I met MC.
Chevalier: I do not like to dilly dally so today’s training will be in the form of directl combat.
This is the training grounds, where Knights usually have their training sessions.
Usually, the training of soldiers was managed by Clavis and the red-head
But If I don't train my body from time to time, I might become rusty.
(That’s the reason I've been telling everyone but…)
Chevalier: Try to make me go down on my knees. I do hope you’ll entertain me a bit.
The knights pick up their wooden swords and start their usual formation.
It seems they had come up with a plan, but they were all too predictable.
(Well, I do hope some remains standing by the time the simpleton comes.)
The most powerful knights attacked first.
+Sword clashing sounds+
Chevalier: ……Too slow.
I kicked the knight that attacked me from the front, then turned around and hit the knight who sneaked up to attack me from the back.
(Their attack is a little bit more organized than the last time but that’s it.)
(It would be enough to deal with small fry, but it does not work on me.)
I trusted my sword with great precision toward their vital point and all the knights fell one after another.
The knight exhausted bodies piled up on the ground as they usually did when training with me.
(If this keeps going I can’t achieve my other goal.)
(.....Or maybe not, i guess luck is with me today.)
I felt another presence and when I glanced toward the entrance, I saw her familiar face.
Usually, even when she comes to watch, all Knights are down so there is nothing more for her to see.
Chevalier: Is that all?
I dared to provoke the knights, who were all wiping the floor with their bodies.
One knight stood up and picked up his fallen sword.
Knight: Uwaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!
(If this was the battlefield, attacking dumbly like this would have him killed, but it seems there is room for improvement.)
I kick the knight before his swords get to touch my body.
Chevalier: I acknowledge your spirit, at the very least.
Cyril: I am extremely sorry, King Chevalier.
The knight who was able to stay standing amidst the other fallen knight, was the red-head, Cyril.
Chevalier: If this was the battlefield, you would have been the only surviving soldier. But would that have any meaning?
Cyril: It wouldn't. All I would be able to do is cry for my fallen comrades.
Chevalier: So instead you’d choose a meaningless death?
Cyril: Of course, How could I go back to my lord if I failed his expectations?
(I would have agreed with this mindset before, but now….)
The red-headed kept a firm hold of his sword, his whole body tense as if he was really on the battlefield.
For a few minutes, our sword clashed.
(As expected, he does have quite the potential.)
Red-head attacked my vital points accurately and without waste.
Anyone not skilled enough would not be able to keep up with him.
Chevalier: Your movement has become more precise since the last time we fought.
Cyril: Yes. If I keep losing, I’ll drag my lord’s face into the mud.
Chevalier: ……….. (smug laugh)
(Well, I too, can’t afford to lose in front of my simpleton.)
The fight was fierce, and he was looking for any small opportunity so that he could strike me.
After a while, I parried his attack and his sword fell to my feet.
Cyril: Well, in the end I ended up losing pathetically.
Chevalier: Still, that was a good match.
Chevalier: And I advise you to change that mindset of not going back alive.
Chevalier: Even if you were to be the only one left standing, it is your duty as a Knight to return to your master.
Chevalier: As the strongest of the knights, try to bring back as many alive Knights as you can including yourself. If you can’t even do that, then you're incompetent.
Cyril: I’ll keep that in mind….
Red-head is specifically capable amongst the knights, he will not disobey his lord’s orders unless he has no other choice.
(The fact that I started thinking that the knight's lives were as important as victory is thanks to the simpleton’s influence.)
Chevalier: Now, all the fools who died on the battlefield, do not come back until you have done 100 laps around the castle.
All the knights: Whaaat?! 100 laps?!
Chevalier: There is no mercy for the losers.
Cyril: Thank you very much! Everyone! Do not complain! Go!
The knights rushed all out of the training grounds at once.
Now that the hindrances were gone, there was only me and MC there.
(Or maybe not.)
Outside the training ground, I could feel the presence of many knights, along with red-head and I could see them peeking through the door.
MC: King Chevalier, well done.
Chevalier: I don’t think there was anything worthy of you purposely visiting.
MC: I’m sorry for disturbing you.
Chevalier: The knights were the one in the way.
I put my arms around her waist and hugged her awkwardly.
Chevalier: By the way, the loser got a penalty, but isn’t it also natural for the winner to get a reward?
MC: A reward?
(I am being….ridiculous.)
The need for a reward was part of human nature, so I approached my face to hers without looking away.
And quickly sealed her lips with mine.
She seemed to completely forget about where we were before she suddenly became aware and pushed my chest gently.
I expected this sort of reaction from her.
Chevalier: What is it?
MC: Why don’t I give you your reward after we go back to your room?
Chevalier: Then it will be too late.
MC: Really?
When I glanced toward the entrance, MC followed my gaze and became speechless.
(Do you not realize that even your cute reactions are part of my reward?)
MC panicked and started moving her mouth as if she wanted to say something, yet not a single sound would come out.
It was rare for her to make such an expression these days, because she always tried to look calm and dignified.
Chevalier: I really want to show them who exactly you belong to, but….
I hugged MC so that her expression could not be seen by the knights.
Chevalier: I have no intention of letting them see this adoringly foolish face expression of yours.
(I really seem to have developed quite the wicked hobby.)
As I thought that, I saw MC’s red ears as she buried her face into my chest, and my heart skipped a beat.
Yuki's note: That's it for part 1! If you didn't get enough of Cheva pls check the other translation that i did for him as well as clavis 2022 birthday as well as my own story that i wrote. You can check all that from my MASTERLIST
#ikemen prince#ikepri#ikeprince#ikepri chevalier michel#ikemen ouji chevalier#ikemen prince chevalier#chevalier michel#ikepri chevalier#ikeprince chevalier#yukina translate#ikeprince translations
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Tear apart.
Into small pieces.
Or it seems like your intention, my dear life.
But blaming life alone is not fair. Because we are the ones who often push ourselves to our limits.
Of course, there are many needs in our lives that strive us forward. We need livinghood to feed ourselves and our families. Willingness to fight, to survive in the cruel race of life.
These reasons are easy to explain. But beyond that, we may also want something else. We may crave acceptance and love. From ourselves and from others.
And those can feel like something we need to earn.
That's why we either give our everything. Or if we can't, we would rather not give anything. Because who would love someone who isn't good enough?
That's why we push ourselves to our limits. That's why we create a pack of faceless beasts for ourselves.
To tear us apart. Little by little.
And it may be a long time before we realize how torn we really are. How much tearing hurts us. For we, who want to always do our best, want to deny the shame of our pain and exhaustion until our last breath.
Never mind about pain or exhaustion. Because we are happy. And above all, grateful. For everything we've achieved. And we must be worthy of all that we have achieved.
That's why we endure. That's why we do better and more.
Until the thought of being torn apart. About ending the pain and getting out might start to feel like a comforting thought.
That's why. Before that point. We should stop.
To stop, and forget our doing just for the sake of better and more. And instead, we should remember where we started everything. That what's really important to us.
This way we can begin to seek our balance. Our balance where we're not giving up anything. But where we live a life where both performance and rest support each other.
After which the faceless beasts won't bite us so bad anymore.
It all starts from stopping.
It can be difficult.
But still, it's vital to us.
Are you being torn apart too?
I am, too often. And I'm looking for a balance. And I hope I'll find it someday.
#art#illustration#dark art#horror art#wolf art#susitse.art#wolf#stress#mental health#mental health awareness#deep thoughts#writing
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Hey - this is kind of an odd question, but I was wondering if you had any recommendations for books or articles to read to learn more about Judaism for someone who’s kind of Jewish (but not really)?
My mum is Jewish, but stopped practicing when she was a teenager, and I was brought up atheist - my dad’s family are Protestant. I basically don’t know anything about Judaism, which feels particularly weird because I know loads about Christianity, just through osmosis. And I’ve never met a whole branch of my family who are apparently very orthodox and live really near us in London. Anyway, I’d like to learn more, and don’t really know how to start? Or if I should start?
Thank you for your question. First of all, if your mother is Jewish, you are Jewish. You're not "kind of Jewish," you're not "Jew-ish." You're fully Jewish, and every movement of Judaism recognizes you as such.
Second, there are endless amazing resources for people in situations like yours. I wish I could say that it was more rare to have descendants of people who assimilated wanting to reconnect, but sadly it's not. I've known some people have found resources for converts to be helpful in reconnecting, so those are mixed in with my list as well.
MyJewishLearning is a great resource for really anything Jewish. I've found their articles to be pretty diverse in terms of approach, and they give perspectives of different movements on each topic.
Jewish101 Playlist - This is great not just for beginners, but for people familiar with Judaism already. They are talks given by one of my favorite Rabbis, Rabbi Mark Golub, about everything from how Jews view G-d, our relationship & struggles with Him, how sex is treated in Judaism, to Jewish holiday traditions & the meaning behind them.
Jewish Learning Institute - This entire channel is beneficial for learning about really any topic. They have a more frum perspective, but I think that learning the core observant values is really important when deciding which ones speak to you. It's also important for Jews to understand their more observant siblings, as many people don't and that ignorance leads to observant Jews being marginalized by their own family. By having that baseline understanding of the reasons behind why Jews do what they do, so that you can decide for yourself it that matters or can fit in your life. The video I've attached is about the survival of the Jewish people, a brilliant and moving speech given by Rabbi Y.Y Jacobson. I think this speech is sure to give every Jew a sense of pride and connection to their fellow Jew, which is vital when forming a Jewish identity. We're a tribe for a reason.
TY Channel Henry Abramson - Not a Rabbi but many people mistake him for one because he's highly educated (PhD). He gives very educational lectures on all sorts of Jewish topics, usually Jewish history. Peppers in some humor too, so he's entertaining to watch.
Unpacked - Gives crash-course type videos (entertaining, some animation, higher budget, etc) on issues that Jews face today, conversations Jews are having in the community, and Jewish history.
My Jewish Mommy life - Jewish vlogger who makes videos on the basics of Judaism, shabbat, holidays, etc. A good resource for anyone just entering the fold. Comes from a more reform background but does a decent job of explaining different perspectives.
Books
The Torah (Hebrew-English, also has Spanish, French, Portuguese. There are tons of versions online)
The Jewish Book of Why - This book is essentially a compilation of a million different questions commonly asked about Jews/Judaism and the answers given range in the interpretation of various movements.
Choosing A Jewish Life - Kind of a how-to guide in terms of choosing a Rabbi, synagogue, overview of basic Jewish concepts & movements, choosing a Hebrew name for yourself (You can give yourself one if you don't have one!!), and how to discuss with your family your decision to be Jewish, or more observant.
Jewish Literacy - ABSOLUTELY MY FAVORITE JEWISH RESOURCE. Can be read like a novel or an encyclopedia (like for referencing certain topics). I read through this completely and it is an amazing compilation of every topic from important Biblical stories and their Jewish interpretation, Jewish history from its creation to modern times, IP conflict, major Jewish historical figures, modern Jewish thought on certain topics. Genuinely, if you want to know something about Jewish tradition and practice, it's probably in this book.
To Be a Jew - Halachot (Jewish laws) around observance in daily life, their oigins, and why we do them. Guide for major and minor holidays, major life events, and an explanation of rationale for modern Jewish life.
Living a Jewish Life - Another why-to and how-to guide for Judaism in your daily life.
Helpful Apps:
Shabbat Times (Self-explanatory, you put in your city and it tells you what time Shabbat starts)
Jewish Chronicle/Jooish News - News around the world for what's happening to and by Jews
TorahAnytime - Like Youtube but for Jewish learning
Daily Jewish Prayers - Invaluable resource that explains when which prayers are said, provides it in transliteration, English, and Hebrew
CalJ - Jewish calendar. Great for knowing what the Hebrew date is and when/what times Jewish holidays start.
JVL (Jewish Virtual Library) - a bunch of Jewish books
Jewish accounts to follow:
Here's a very short and incomplete list of Jewish accounts I recommend following, because they post about Judaism a lot and give a good idea of what every-day Jews think about a wide range of things. They are really invaluable resources when it comes to learning from real Jews and I trust their judgment:
@shretl
@tikkunolamorgtfo (has been around forever, literally amazing)
@adoratato
@jewish-kermit
@spacelazarwolf
@magnetothemagnificent
@laineystein
@gonnauseanomdeplume
@hiddurmitzvah
@girlactionfigure
@rimonoroni
@anonymousdandelion
@starlightomatic
@unbidden-yidden
#jumblr#jewblr#judaism#jewish convert#jewish conversion#jewish culture#jew by choice#frumblr#jewish history#jewish resources#jewish stuff#jew stuff
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