#Common sense follows you but you people are faster

[lily-s-world]

One of the main messages of Mean Girls (both 2004 and 2024) is that talking badly about someone will only create an endless cycle of hate and shame, that will leave people hurt - emotionally and physically. That all that talk won't magically make you smarter, prettier... It will only make you a bad person.

And yet... You go and bodyshame the entire cast of this new version??

[reidmania]

close to you | spencer reid

summary; you and Spencer aren’t technically anything — but you are so much more then nothing. He is wrapped around your finger, just as much as you are around his.

warnings; situationship!! more than friends, less than a couple! bau!worker reader, they both drink alcohol, mentions clubbing, its fluff more than anything, they are in love! fem reader. idk its pretty fluffy!! spencer a cocky teasing idiot umm reader is lowkey shy idk . slightest tiniest bit of angst if u drink a bottle of tequila and spin 26 times then squint.

an; fluff!! a rare occurrence for reidmania!! not proof read bc idc enough tbh!! thank u!!

Clubs were never your scene, its not that you had a problem necessarily with people who enjoyed it, you didn’t judge people who got drunk and hooked up with strangers or made an overwhelming mess of themselves.

It just wasn’t your scene.

The blaring music, way too loud. Sweaty dancing bodies tangled together in the crowd, the combination of different perfumes and colognes that filled their air overwhelming and leaving you feeling light headed in the worse way.

Why had you agreed to this? It was Penelope’s idea to go clubbing as a stress reliever after a particularly difficult case. You were going to say no at first, you really really were. You were gonna complain about it being a waste of time and energy to spend a few hours dancing and being hit on by way too old, way too creepy men.

But then Spencer agreed. Shocking. You were shocked and very stunned.

How could you say no now?

You stayed back as the girls of the team danced around other sweaty strangers, Derek was there too actually — spinning Garcia around with one hand, a drink in the other. You leant against the bar, admiring the sight before you.

You didn’t need to be involved or cascaded in by other random people. You were okay right here, just watching and appreciating the sight of your friends and the closest people in your life laughing and having a good time. You didn’t need anything more.

Until your eyes flickered towards the corner, where Spencer was standing, holding a drink in his hand — also just admiring the sight of your teammates on the floor. The pink glow of the lights that filled the bar leaving his face in a warm hue and highlighting every little feature. His sleeves rolled up over his elbows. Your eyes flickered down to his hands that wrapped around the glass he was holding. Gaze trailing along every vein that was exaggerated by the way his hand was placed.

Then your eyes trailed back up to his face, and your breath caught in your throat when you saw his eyes flicker towards you. There was something new — a look you hadn’t really seen before amongst his features. He offered you a gentle smile, as he tilted his head slightly encouraging you to come over towards him so you weren’t sitting alone.

Your legs moved faster than your head could think. You noticed this was a common thing. You were completely and utterly enthralled by Spencer Reid. Completely wrapped around his finger and he didn’t even know it. — Or maybe he did, you weren’t sure but you also weren’t sure you cared.

Anything he said, you believed. Anything he encouraged, you followed. Any small demand or suggestion and you were obligating without a second thought or an ounce of common sense.

“Hi” you mumbled out gently when you got close enough to talk to him. He smiled gently, tilting his head a little as he leant further against the wall. There was something cocky about the look in his eye and the way he raised his eyebrow at you.

“You doing alright?” He asked, carrying a hint of teasing in his tone and you were pretty sure you were about to pass out.

Maybe it was the few drinks you had, too many too fast as a form of coping with the scene around you.

You nodded. He grinned as his free hand reached out gently to brush a few stray hairs away from your face, then moving hair behind your shoulder, fingertips brushing against the skin of your neck. Your breath hitched at the feeling, his cold hands burning against the sensitive skin, leaving a hot trail in their path before his hand returned to his side.

God you could marry the man on the spot. Like genuinely, if someone gave you the papers you would be signing every single dotted line the document had to offer.

“Sorry.” He huffed out an apology and you wanted to kiss him to show him just how fine it was. How you felt your stomach burning — you knew that wasn’t just from the alcohol.

You shook your head, quickly. Craving his touch all over again as your eyes trailed down his forearms again. Did he roll up his sleeves just to drive you insane?

“Its.. Fine” You nodded slightly distracted — very distracted.

He snorted. Spencer Reid was oblivious 99% of the time — the smartest man maybe ever, a genius, a walking encyclopaedia, he was oblivious 99% of the time to social cues — what he wasn’t oblivious to, was you.

“Its fine?” He repeated back, his teeth coming to sink into his bottom lip as he looked down at you, eyes on your face as yours flickered from his hand to his eyes.

Eyes that were already on you.

You furrowed your eyebrows as you nodded, because it was fine. You assumed maybe the misplaced piece of hair was contrasting with his need for perfection too much of the time and bothered him to the point he just — needed, to do something about it. You missed the way his head tilted and his eyebrow raised. Until you didn’t.

He was teasing you.

“You’re an asshole” You mumbled out, rolling your eyes as you turned to walk away — noticing he was having a great time. but there was nothing malicious about your tone nor your words. There was nothing malicious you could say about Spencer even if you really really tried. Even if you said the meanest cruelest thing in the world your fond tone would give you away.

You heard his loud laugh, before he was reaching out to grab your wrist, pulling you gently back towards him, bringing you flush towards his chest as his hand moved from your wrist to your head as it rested against his dress shirt — his suit jacket hanging from the back of a chair somewhere.

His hand cupped the back of your head as his fingers carded gently through your hair. “No- Im sorry- Im sorry. Stay here” He said gently as his fingertips scratched against the back of your scalp gently. Whatever it was that was going on between you and Spencer — you just didn’t want it to end.

You hummed, hands pulling upwards to wrap around his mid-section, running gently up and down his back off the white dress shirt as you stayed in place against him. This was a lot better than sitting and watching your friends. Being close to him, in his arms, surrounded by his scent.

“Are you coming home with me tonight?” He asked gently, a soft whisper in your ear as if anyone else would hear over the loud music surrounding you. It made your heart flutter anyways — because it was meant just for you.

You nodded, you weren’t going to originally. Actually your body was aching for a good nights rest in your own bed, after being away for a week on an all too draining case.

Seemingly enough, your body ached more for the closeness with Spencer he was happy to provide.

“Yeah? Thats my girl” He said, voice gentle and quiet, just loud enough for you to hear as his lips pressed down against the top of your head, his fingers continuing to run gently through your hair and over your scalp, holding you close to him.

You let out another hum. Even though technically you weren’t ‘his’ girl — you were. Despite the lack of labels on the situation between you two, you were his girl. This was why you agreed to come out after Spencer did. This, being close to him surrounded by a scene neither of you particularly enjoyed — but with each other so it didn’t matter.

“Can we go?” You asked, tilting your head back in his hand to look up at him, he paused his gentle caressing against your hair as he met your eyes, he brought his hand away and instead to your jawline, fingers gently running across the soft skin of your cheek as he one handedly cupped your face.

He wet his lips with his tongue before getting out a soft nod, “Mhm, We can do anything you want sweet girl” He said gently, seemingly just as captivated by the look on your face as you were with the look on his. You knew his words were true. He would do anything you asked of him. He proved that time after time again.

Maybe on late nights alone in bed you would wonder a little too hard about the unspeakable chemistry that overpowered the air between you two, and remained unspoken but for right now, just being close to him was enough.

He was close enough.

[extrajigs]

Wanted to figure out how chimera’s wrote and ended up starting on their written language proper. MASSIVE info dump below! 

Writing

They write using four fingers of one hand, usually the right, coated in ink. Think like a stamp almost. The three middle fingers draw with the tips of the teeth whilst the thumb will alternate between tip and back. All words are written simultaneously inward. The remaining fingers grip the source of ink, usually a length of hardened pigment only wetted on one side OR those who write often could invest in a pen. A pen for a chimera is a fanning brush saturated with ink that the writing teeth brush through when needing to reink. It allows for much faster wetting of the teeth, but can be messy when learning or refilling. 

Most chimera are right handed but left handed individuals exist, they will simply need to learn to use the two fingers opposite the middle in reverse of how someone who is right handed would! Luckily all fingers can move pretty independently of each other and it is an easy task.  As chimera mostly communicate through direct broadcast most find the written word lacking, so it is a common occupation among Chimera to write for others. It is an impressive skill to eloquently convey ideas/feelings through writing. Though their language set up lends to it MUCH more than others. 

The Nitty Gritty

All subject to change as this is very first drafty. 

Chimeric is a logographic language, there is no set alphabet and all ‘words’ stem from symbols representing things and ideas. Sentences are kind of two sentences atop one another, with one being the literal and the other the reactionary. It is read from out to in and sentences are written in a circle divided into 4 quarters. We’ll start with the top moving counter clockwise. 

Quarter 1 (Red) is the subject area, now subjects function the same as nouns for the most part, people, places, and things. But something important to note is that there must always be an ‘audience’ for the words being spoken. An audience basically means pronouns though they are a lot more encompassing with: I, You, Us, Them, Them excluding me/you, Us excluding you, Everyone, and a bunch of others. These are all acceptable audience subjects to top off your sentence. For instance you wouldn’t say “This pizza tastes good!” you would instead say “I enjoy the taste of this pizza” or “Everyone enjoys the taste of this pizza” the opinion/emotion needs to be applied to a source to make sense grammatically. 

Quarter 2 (Green) is all about emotions and opinions. Chimeric language is an exchange of ideas but also importantly emotions and feelings. Q2 is dedicated to how the sentence is supposed to be interpreted or felt by the reader, as obviously in ‘spoken’ chimeric speaker and listener technically feel the same about what is currently being said. Listener opinion is very distinct from speaker and in writing the speaker takes priority. So for example the statement “Who finished the box but left it in the pantry?” would instead have to be translated into something akin to “I am pissed and questioning who had the audacity to finish the box and did not care enough to remove it from the pantry thus leaving me to find it and become disappointed?” Basically chimeric lends itself to very long translations due to their feelings.  

Quarter 3 (Blue) is the action section of the sentence. The verbs if you will. This is where things are happening and is VERY tied in with Q1. Subjects in Q1 and Q2 will be linked together with lines that follow the same slice through the circle.

When a subject is linked to an action that means that the subject is the one performing the action, whereas subjects closer to the center and unaligned with an action are what is being acted upon. Like with the audience conundrum though an action needs a subject to actually act, whether it is an individual/s or an object or place. This is usually the least word heavy portion of the sentence as it is almost supplemental to Q1, and in contrast to the thin, crisp lines of the other quarters, Q3 will often be smudgey and more messy due to being written mostly with the back of the thumb. 

Quarter 4 (Yellow) is generally not going to have any words written there, as it functions as the anchor point for the hand. The outmost finger rests here on the page to stabilize the hand as it closes during writing. When writing in a ream of papers this is where the hole to hold them all together is punched through. However in modern fanciful writing styles Q4 is also used as a secondary emotional quarter. This style will use Q4 as the reactionary emotion of the reader, more so the expected reaction and emotion from the reader. This is an EXTREMELY class based writing style and it is a GIANT NO NO to write like this for someone of higher status to read. Typically only Clan heads will freely use this writing style, especially towards each other lmao. The writing style of the passive aggressive power struggle. 

All together Quarters are read at once! And I mean that there is no one word the chimera will start with. Every word of the sentence is absorbed at the same time, no following along a line like how I’m currently typing. But what indicates the order of which things are meant to be perceived is how close they are to the outside of the circle. Things closer to the center come later in the sentence and will be understood to be lower in the hierarchy of words. However only subjects and actions are directly linked to each other, emotion/opinion words are to have a more natural seep throughout the entirety of the sentence with only a loose idea of where they are to be felt. In this way while a subjects actions may be concrete, the writers feelings about them are more fluid and organic. 

Chimeric conlang yay! I wanted to make modern Mirum script but decided I needed to start at the roots. So technically two written languages originate from Mirum, but they are extremely similar with one directly branching from the other. Chimeric is the original and Miran is the derivative, they mostly share characters but their sentence structure is different. Chimeric keeps the circular structure whereas Miran is a zigzagging horizontal and completely drops quarters 2 and 4. Leading to modern Miran being a very literal language vs Chimeric’s emotion heavy focus. But if you know one you can pretty much read the other, albeit with some culture shock. 

[moutainrusing]

accident

519 words, @wolfstarmicrofic

Friends kissed all the time. It was just a thing, obviously, a cheeky peck on the lips, or to teasingly piss people off. Just a thing. If the bottle lands on your friend during spin the bottle, you put on a show. If there’s mistletoe above your heads, then pucker up.

So really, it wasn’t a big deal when Remus and Sirius were dared to get caught past curfew in an act of public indecency.

“Alright, what should we do?” Sirius asked, standing in front of Remus.

Remus shrugged against the wall, before his eyes widened, and he hissed, “Hufflepuff Prefect round the corner. Think it’s… Qingjin Yao?”

Sirius laughed, “Bloody werewolf senses. You’re awesome.”

“Thanks. Now shut up and do something indecent in five secs.”

“What should I—”

Remus kissed him, and breathed, “Indecent,” into his mouth. Sirius felt the word diffuse from his lungs into his bloodstream, flowing into his organs and muscles as they tensed and clenched in response. He kissed back with equal fervour, ‘indecent’ chiming in his mind on repeat. Indecent. He reached down. Indecent. Their hips rolled like a spinning record. Indecent. The record stuttered in time to their own stutters.

Indecent, but it was more than decent, because Sirius was thrumming with energy, whirring faster and faster until the momentum thrusted them upwards, and they collided with atoms in the air, sparks flying and skin sparking. He pushed into Remus with a surge of power, the air hot and dense as particles compressed and pressure built, and Remus was pulling him like a magnet, the charges in his body lining up to face him and tug, as if Remus was the core of the Earth and gravity was dragging Sirius into him, and when they met, the world would explode into a million tiny stars—

“Um. Uh. I didn’t see this. Boys. Please step apart.”

Sirius flew away like a flipped magnet. But he immediately flipped back, and wanted to crowd Remus’s space forever—

“Hi, Qingjin,” Remus politely smiled, patting his hair down and fixing his clothes. Sirius frowned, and thoughtlessly reached up to dishevel Remus’s hair again. “Accident,” he muttered, smirking at Qingjin before shamelessly staring at Remus.

“Could you please escort us to the Gryffindor dorms before we get caught up in indecency again?” Remus asked, somehow sounding agreeable despite the way he was smirking.

Qingjin shook her head, “Um. I suppose. We’re gonna forget this happened though. I need bleach.” She began to walk, and they followed her quietly. She spun around suddenly, “No funny business, or I’ll take points and file detentions. Only reason I’m not doing that is ‘cause I really don’t want a reminder of this.”

“And ‘cause you’re a Hufflepuff,” Sirius smiled sweetly.

She ignored him, and carried on marching them to the common room, where James and Peter were waiting outside the portrait.

“Oh, thank you Qingjin,” James gushed, “We were so worried as to where they went! So… what did you catch them doing?”

“What trouble were they causing?” Peter piped up innocently.

She sighed. “Gay shit.”

James and Peter burst out laughing.

[scamarchive]

Red Flags: How to Identify a Tumblr Scam (Pet Edition)

Has someone sent you a message requesting that you boost their sick pet fundraiser? Have you seen someone reblog a post like that? It could be a scam.

Check out this list of red flags before you boost or donate!

🚩 Red flag #1: Someone you don't know has sent you an ask out of nowhere, requesting that you boost their fundraiser

Scammers like to cover as much ground as possible. To do this, they find completely random, unrelated people through the trending and popular posts. If you reblog a trending or popular post and receive an ask soon afterwards, that's probably how they came across your blog!

Example: you watch a new release movie like 'Puss in Boots', and you reblog some trending fanart. You receive an ask about a fundraiser a few days later.

Example 2: you like some fanart of characters from the recent 'The Last of Us' episode, which is trending on tumblr. You receive an ask about a fundraiser that night.

Example 3: you reblog some cottagecore photography or another post that contains a trending aesthetic. Hours later, you receive an ask about a fundraiser.

🚩 Red flag #2: They tell you to answer their ask privately

Scammers love spamming the same copy-pasted ask to hundreds of people! They also love to reuse asks from previous scams. To reduce how many people notice the similarities between their current asks and asks from previous scams, they'll tell you to answer privately, to stop more evidence from getting out there. Also consider: if someone really has a sick pet, they should want as much exposure as they can get! Telling someone not to publish their ask seems counterintuitive, unless they have an ulterior motive.. Which a scammer will definitely have.

Knowing these red flags, check out the six scam asks below. What do they have in common?

🚩 Red flag #3: Comments are turned off in the fundraising post, or there are removed comments

Scammers preemptively turn off comments in their posts so people can't call attention to the fact they're scams. People who have real fundraisers, on the other hand, are usually glad to talk to you in the comments! Sometimes, scammers let people make comments, but there may be a message that 'some comments have been deleted or removed'. These were usually warnings from people who realized it was a scam.

🚩 Red flag #4: Their ask box is closed

Scammers preemptively turn off their ask box because they can't provide proof that the pets and vet bills belong to them. They also want to avoid angry messages from people who realize they're a scammer.

🚩 Red flag #5: They ask you to send money through paypal's 'friends and family'

On paypal, you can send strangers funds using 'goods and services', or 'friends and family'. Scammers will often ask you to send through 'friends and family' because you have very little protection and you'll have a hard time getting your money back! Scammers like to spin it as being 'faster', and they'll try to appeal to your emotions to create a sense of urgency and guilt, convincing you to send money using that option.

🚩 Red flag #6: Their posts have no tags. Their posts are all reblogs of trending posts. They don't seem to be reblogging consistently from any specific blogs

Scammers make a fresh blog for every new scam. They want to set up their blogs as fast as possible, so they cut corners, meaning that aside from their fundraising post, all their posts will be reblogs, and they won't usually have tags. The reblogs will often be of trending, easy-to-find tumblr posts! In most cases, scammers reblog posts from as many different blogs as they can, unlike the typical tumblr user who usually reblogs from select people they follow, over and over.

🚩 Red flag #7: They only have ~40 posts on their blog

Scammers know that most people won't spend more than a moment scrolling through a blog to verify its age, so they'll only populate their blogs with just enough posts to convince someone who only scrolls for a short time. Usually, the posts are all made within a few hours at most. If a blog is run by a scammer, usually you can scroll through all the posts within five minutes.

Remember: scammers want you to think 'eh, good enough'! If you're scrolling through a blog and you start to think this, scroll for another minute or two!

If you're on desktop, you can quickly get to the end of someone's posts by tapping the 'end' or 'page down' keys.

🚩 Red flag #8: Most of their posts are reblogged directly from the original poster

Scammers will usually reblog posts directly from the person who originally posted them, unlike most tumblr users, who tend to see posts reblogged by their friends and reblog them from those friends instead.

🚩 Red flag #9: Most of their posts have very high note counts

This is another indication they were fabricating their blog activity. It's way easier to find super popular posts than smaller ones! This is not a rule, most scam blogs will have posts with ~40 notes mixed in with posts with ~40k notes.

🚩 Red flag #10: The timestamp of the oldest post is only a few days old

Most scam blogs don't last more than a week before tumblr deletes em. Once you've scrolled to the end of the blog, check the timestamp of the oldest post by clicking on the 'meatball' (three dots) icon in the corner of it. If that post is only a few days old, or if it's so new that you don't even see a date (only a time), the blog is probably run by a scammer!

🚩 Red flag #11: The blog is dash-only

Scammers disable their blog's main theme so people can't see their archive and instantly see how new all their posts are. They want you to have to scroll, then get tired of scrolling (or say 'good enough'), so you never reach the end of their very sparse posts and realize it's a fabricated blog.

🚩 Red flag #12: The reblog notes have warnings that say 'this is a scam'

When people reblog a scam post and realize it's a scam, they'll often edit the post to warn people who see it in the future. You can look for these warnings by checking the 'comments and replies' reblogs, and the 'comments only' reblogs! Scammers count on people to reblog instinctively and not check these notes.

🚩 Red flag #13: You check the 'other reblogs' tab and notice that many unrelated users reblogged the post directly from the original url

This indicates the person sent copy-pasted asks to many unrelated people (this ties into red flag #1 and #2!). An unknown blog shouldn't have this many direct reblogs for their post, especially if the post and blog itself is super new.

🚩 Red flag #14: You check out their url tag at tumblr.com/tagged/URLHERE and see posts warning that they're a scammer

Sometimes, upon searching for the person's url (you can do this by going to tumblr.com/tagged/URLHERE), you'll see a bunch of people who have outed the scammer. Keep in mind even if you don't see any warnings, it doesn't necessarily mean the person isn't a scammer! Sometimes a blog is just too new for anyone to have posted about it yet.

🚩 Red flag #15: The post uses strong emotional buzzwords and language

Scammers like to use a post template that involves many colourful emojis, and phrases like 'my poor (pet name)!', 'he deserves to live!', and 'help us save a (cat/dog/etc)!' to appeal to emotion and make people feel empowered to help. This is so someone will share the post as quickly as possible, and not spend as much time carefully vetting the blog. The language is designed to make people feel guilty if they don't share. Not all posts containing this language are scams, but scammers employ it a lot because it's super effective at getting results!

🚩 Red flag #16: They don't have established history with anyone on tumblr

If nobody knows who the person is, chances are it's a scam. There's no shame in asking around to see if people recognize the blog! Make sure if someone comes forward to confirm, that their blog is older and they're well known in the community. Scammers don't really go through the hassle of astroturfing real interactions with real people before making their scam posts.

🚩 Red flag #17: The currency on the vet bill doesn't match the currency of the country that appears when you hover over the paypal link

This is a big one! For example, imagine there's a post with a photo of a vet bill. You notice the costs are all in US dollars ($). Next you check out the paypal link at the bottom of the post by hovering over it with your cursor (or pressing and holding with your finger, if you're on mobile).

When you do this, in the bottom corner of your screen (or in a popup if you're on mobile), you see the url attached to that paypal link. This url reveals the paypal user's country using a short abbreviation! In the example below, you can see 'PH', which stands for 'Philippines':

Therefore, the post in this example is almost certainly a scam, because the currency in the Philippines is pesos (₱), not USD ($).

You can also look carefully at the vet bill to find the location of that vet. In this example, the vet is located in Richmond Virginia, US. That is a red flag too because again, the paypal recipient is located in the Philippines!

🚩 Red flag #18: They have both a venmo and a paypal link, but the names aren't the same

Scammers make sock puppet accounts for venmo and paypal, and they'll often reuse those accounts between scams! Because of this, their links won't have identical names. For instance, in the example scam above, their paypal said 'aatuck1', but their venmo said 'evan-naeher'. This is probably because they made a new paypal to match the name on the vet bill they stole, but they still had a working venmo they wanted to reuse.

Other handy things to remember:

Just because someone proves they aren't a bot, it doesn't mean they aren't a scammer!

Many scammers do manually send asks to people, do reply to people who ask questions (without giving any actual verification), and even block people who reveal them to be scammers. Many scammers have been confirmed to have 'waking hours' and 'sleeping hours'.

💡 When in doubt, ask the person to write some words of your choice on a sheet of paper, put it next to the animal, and send a picture of it to you. 💡

If the person actually owns the pet, this will be easy for them. If they can't produce a picture, it's a scammer. Remember: if someone gives an excuse for why they can't send a pic, stay skeptical! Excuses are not a substitute for proof.

When in doubt, answer their ask firmly and skeptically.

This is the 'tough love' version of the above approach!! If someone sends you an ask, say firmly that their blog 'looks suspicious', and that you aren't comfortable sharing or donating. Often, scammers will block you as soon as you say this, because they know they can't provide any verification (unlike people with real fundraisers, who will be happy to give it) and because you've given them the impression you're tough on scammers and not an easy sell, they won't even try to convince you! Now if they don't block you? Awesome- now's the time to ask them for the sheet of paper photo.

Scammers use stolen, but legitimate, photographs of pets and vet bills!

The bills are real, the pictures of pets are real. But they're stolen from real fundraisers that other people made on facebook, gofundme, etc. Because of this, you can't rely on a vet bill picture alone to tell if something is a scam! You need to look at the context of the entire post, and check for red flags in the person's blog, etc. That's where things fall apart!

You won't always find a source for pet pictures if you reverse-image search them!

Scammers often take pictures from facebook and other websites that are behind login walls, and these sources won't show up on google. If you reverse-search a picture and nothing shows up, remember to still check for other red flags!

Lastly: If you want to report a scam, you can select 'report something else' > 'unlawful uses or content' > 'phishing'.

Just remember these red flags, or save em for reference, and you'll be a scam detective in no time!

Reposted with permission from @coulsonlives.

[sakureis]

Ruby - Heartslabyul

Summary: how they fall in love with you

Warnings: fluff, mention of riddles overblot, food mention

Character(s): Riddle Rosehearts, Ace Trappola, Deuce Spade, Cater Diamond, Trey Clover

Riddle Rosehearts - by understanding him

Things were put into a new perspective after you learned the details that lead up to his overblot. Who you once saw as a hot-headed tyrant became a boy plagued by the expectations put upon him. As you saw him grow as a person, so did your admiration for him.

You chatted with Riddle often about the things that bothered him, from the stress of being a housewarden to the everyday rules he forced himself to follow. Your attentiveness had always caught his attention, but now he was feeling different about it. His heart started to beat faster whenever he noticed how incredible you were listening, and before he knew it, he had fallen for you.

Ace Trappola - by having his back

It was no secret that the first year could be a bit chaotic, scratch that, very chaotic. Often times it could get him in trouble both with other student and teachers. He wasn’t used to people coming to his defense instead of laughing at him, but when you explained the situation of his pen being broken, he started seeing you in a new light.

See, what had happened was out of Ace’s control, and it’s not like he wanted to lose his magical abilities. Everyone remembered how he moped when collared by Riddle, so of course he didn’t want a repeat of that. Unfortunately, he still had to go into the mines to obtain another mage stone, but you were by his side the entire time even though neither of you had a means to defend yourself from any monsters.

Deuce Spade - by helping him improve

Even though he rarely talked about it publicly, you knew he struggled academically. You saw how his brow would furrow in class while doing individual assignments, so you suggested study sessions as a group with the other first years. He was immediately nervous, worried that if he outwardly expressed contempt towards his abilities he would be made fun of.

That’s when you suggested to do it just the two of you for the time being. Maybe you couldn’t help with all of it, but there was enough you’d learned that didn’t require magic that you were confident that you could help him. And help him you did. He started finding it easier and easier to complete tests, and your assurance definitely motivated him to do better, especially the way you’d smile and praise his progress. Wait a second, did he like you?

Cater Diamond - by showing you care

He’s used to suffering in silence, putting up a front for others, always smiling. You could sense something was going on with his, though. No one is that cheery 24/7, and sometimes you’d catch his smile dropping when he thought no one could see. Overall, you were worried about him. You’d never outright confront Cater about it, since that could be extremely overwhelming for him, but you decided to show that you were there for him in small ways.

Every day, you’d greet him first and ask how he slept and how his day had been so far. You made sure to engage in every conversation he had with you in the vicinity, and listen carefully to what he had to say. Even to the point where he began to show signs of being more comfortable around you, letting out a genuine laugh and smile when you commented something entertaining. He found himself starting to like you more and more each day.

Trey Clover - by taking interest in his hobbies

He was the big brother figure to many other Heartslabyul students, so he was used to engaging in what they enjoy, but not so much the other way around. Sure, his club members shared common interests, but it just didn’t feel the same. Enter you, pursued by motivation to get to know the vice housewarden better.

He kept secrets hidden very well, often pretending some things don’t exist in the first place, so when you asked him to teach you how to bake he was taken aback. You’d mentioned how his treats at the unbirthday parties had inspired you to lead, and who better to learn from than Trey Clover himself. While baking, you would encourage him to talk about things he likes to do other than baking, and he cautiously obliged. He was surprised at your genuine interest and by the time you were confident in your baking abilities, he made you a special treat with heart shaped decorations on it.

[ms-demeanor]

You seem like a good sort of person to ask; how does one go about building up a good spice rack? Not only just having the spices, but knowing what they are and how to use them, when and in what quantities, and developing a wider spice palette in general? I grew up in white suburbia and my mother has no idea how to use anything other than salt and ground black pepper, and I want to start making my foods more flavorful. I am tired of utterly flavorless dry roast pork! But I have no idea where to begin lol.

I'd say to start by trying a lot of foods that use a lot of different spice profiles and seeing what you like. If you like Thai food, look into Thai spices and try cooking a few recipes. If you like Indian food, try Indian recipes. If you don't know if you like a particular kind of food, go out and try it and see if you do.

I think the best way to build up your spice rack is to do so slowly over time as you familiarize yourself with different flavors. Don't go out and buy a ton of stuff, go out and buy cumin and make a rice recipe that calls for cumin and see if you like it, then next time maybe add another spice like cayenne pepper to the recipe and see if you like it.

Spices can be really expensive, but they can also be really cheap if you're looking in the right places. Try to avoid the shiny organic spice jars, and see if there are packets of spices in the various "ethnic" food sections of your grocery store (in California it's pretty common to have a Mexican food section and an Asian food section in the store and you'll often find stuff like a packet of cumin for 70 cents that's got the same amount of spice as the organic jar that costs five bucks in the spice aisle).

Once you've got some basics down, start branching out and seeing if you've got any good markets nearby that have more unusual spices. Large Bastard and I get most of our bulk spices from a Middle Eastern market around the corner from our house or at an Indian market a few miles away because it's WAY cheaper to get allspice or turmeric or garam masala from those stores than it would be from the grocery store.

And if you're starting at the basic-basics, like how to season a simple pork roast, check recipe blogs. Find different bloggers and test their recipes until you find someone you trust, then follow their recipes. One good place to start is with Chef John and Food Wishes - he has a wide variety of cuisines that use a lot of different spices and has recipes that range from very simple to very complex.

Large Bastard really likes Food Wishes and trying recipes from Chef John - he cooks less than I do and has less of a sense of what to add to a pot to get something to taste the way he wants it to, but he's gotten very good at taking Food Wishes recipes and tweaking them or adjusting them and figuring out how to mix and match flavors.

Just cooking - finding a recipe that looks interesting and following it - is a really good way to get better at this kind of thing.

That's actually one of the reasons that I think meal kit boxes like blue apron can be worth it for people who want to learn how to cook - they give you recipes you wouldn't have thought to look for and provide small amounts of the required ingredients so you can sample them and figure out if you like them. My dad and sister got blue apron for like two years and it has significantly improved their cooking skills and ability to mix and match flavors.

It just takes time and money and trial and error. Easy, right? (It isn't, but there's also no way to make it faster other than doing more experiments. Thankfully there are ways to make it cheaper, and yeah looking at local specialty markets is a good way to save on spices)

[sosomonimagines]

House's girl, part two — Gregory House x Daughter!Reader

Summary: House finally starts to genuinely care about someone, but they try to take that person away from him.

Warnings: talk of divorce and custody disputes (triggers for children of divorce like me, I imagine)

Author's notes: English is not my native language and I am from South America, so I don't know if my view of the court is authentic to that of the US. I did some research, but you never know!

Part one:

Three months ago, you began living with your father. Somehow, the two of you managed to establish a routine that brought a certain stability to the new arrangement. You would wake up at six-thirty in the morning on weekdays, and House, who got ready faster, always prepared a strawberry Pop-Tart for you. James would give you a ride to school at seven-thirty in the morning.

When you got home, sometimes at four, sometimes at six in the evening depending on your extracurricular activities, you would devote yourself to washing the dishes, aware that it was a task your father preferred to avoid. Your studies went on until eight at night, and often, your father would arrive around that time. He would bring food from the hospital cafeteria for you, usually a salad with meat and a bit of pasta. Over time, he noticed your love for pasta and liked to bring it for you whenever he could.

When your father arrived at that hour, you would take a break from studying to watch medical shows with him. On the occasions he came home later, which was quite common, he would go straight to bed without resorting to sleep aids. Although he used to rely on some substances to aid his sleep, he initially felt it would be inappropriate with you around, and then simply forgot the need for those medications.

On weekends, you dedicated yourself to studying, but also found time to keep your father company, whether by watching television together or quietly reading at the kitchen table. You both enjoyed watching old movies, like A Clockwork Orange and Psycho, as well as other classic Hitchcock thrillers.

While House followed a highly different and self-destructive routine on Saturdays and Sundays, he valued your presence, distancing himself, even if only temporarily, from the drugs and prostitutes that usually filled his days. He vividly recalled how challenging the first day you arrived at the house had been, but within just three days, the presence of another person had become an unexpected comfort. House couldn’t remember ever truly loving someone before; he had always associated love with pain. Yet, with you, it was strangely different. There was a genuine sense of melancholy and truth in paternal love that he had never experienced before.

He was still the same sarcastic and cynical man as before. The biting comments and natural teasing hadn’t disappeared; they remained, unshaken. Yet, something had changed. He knew that you weren’t just another person in his life — you were you.

•••

Saturday, November 5th:

You rummaged through the kitchen cabinets, noting that despite the changes since moving into your father's house, grocery shopping remained a persistent issue. Your father, who loathed going to the market, made his purchases erratically, buying only a few random items at convenience stores.

“There’s no food”, you said, glancing at your father, who was idly flipping through a newspaper.

“Have you considered learning to photosynthesize? We’d save money,” he replied with sarcasm.

“I’m hungry”

He sighed, put down the newspaper, and looked at you.

“Buy some food”

“Have you thought about going to the market yourself? Buying enough groceries for the month, preparing for a possible hurricane or any other natural disaster? Normal people do that.”

“Normal people, not incredible people like me”

“You should get treatment for that megalomania”, you said, shutting the kitchen cabinets with a bit more force than necessary.

“And you should work on your excessive use of big words to sound smarter” he retorted, pulling his wallet from his pants pocket and handing you a card. “Go shopping if that’s what you want. Call a cab to get to the market and another one to bring the groceries back”

“You’re coming with me”, you said firmly.

“Hey, I’m the parent here, I give the orders”, he retorted.

“Come with me”, you repeated. “You’re the responsible adult and need to fulfill your adult responsibilities.”

“Alright, Miss Bossy” he replied with an ironic smile. “When did you become so commanding? Has someone introduced you to my boss?”

•

When you both arrived home from the market, each carrying paper bags full of groceries, the nightmare began. The mailbox displayed a new letter, something that had probably arrived the day before and gone unnoticed by you until that moment — and, as usual, your father didn’t care enough to retrieve it.

You unloaded the groceries onto the kitchen counter and went back to retrieve the letter. It was addressed to your father and came from the New Jersey Court of Justice.

“Hey, dad,” you said, handing him the letter. “I think someone wants to arrest you.”

“You can’t even commit crimes in peace in this country”, he replied with an ironic tone.

As he opened the letter and read in silence, House's world seemed to collapse. It was one of the rare times he felt completely at a loss for words.

“Is everything okay?” you asked, concerned. “Wait, are they really trying to arrest you!?”

“No,” he answered in a low voice. He wasn’t sure which question he was answering, but the "no" seemed to apply to both “I need to go.”

And just like that, he left, clutching the letter, without explaining where he was going or what was happening.

•

Stacy Warner didn’t expect House to show up that Sunday. Since they had decided to part ways, House’s visits had always carried an unwelcome omen. They usually indicated a relapse on his part, an attempt to possess her merely to feed his ego. And with Mark, her current husband, present, the situation became even more uncomfortable and pointless.

“House, what are you doing here?” Stacy asked as she opened the door. The mention of his name drew Mark’s attention, who quickly joined her.

“You know you’re not welcome here, House,” Mark said, with a tone of disdain.

“Shut up, Mark,” House replied, frustration evident on his face.

“House! You can’t come here and talk to my husband like that,” Stacy exclaimed, exasperated

“I need legal help. I need lawyer Stacy, not my ex-wife Stacy,” House clarified, trying to stay focused.

“Are they finally going to revoke your medical license?” Mark asked sarcastically.

“Please, shut up,” House replied, and this time Stacy didn’t interrupt him.

Stacy invited him in and led him to her private office. The space was elegant and well-maintained, with tall dark wooden shelves filled with legal books. On the walls, diplomas and certificates hung, attesting to her experience and competence.

“What happened? Are they really trying to revoke your medical license?” Stacy asked, her tone serious, reflecting the gravity of the situation.

House didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he handed her the letter. Stacy opened it and began to read. In short, warned that your mother was asking for custody back, in addition to requesting a restraining order against his father.

“Y/N is living with you?” Stacy asked, perplexed. She was House’s second wife, and when they were together, you were still a young child. Stacy knew he had always met his legal obligations, paying child support on time, but she also knew he had little desire to take on parental responsibilities.

“For three months,” House replied.

“But why?”

“Because her mother decided to date a jerk who makes my daughter uncomfortable,” House answered angrily. “It was the police’s decision to send her to my house since I’m the closest relative and she wasn’t safe with the guy. The mother wouldn’t believe her.”

“And now she wants custody back?”

“Exactly.”

“You never wanted to take on the role of father to this girl. What 's changed?”

“What’s changed is that I’ve come to enjoy being her father, okay? Now help me. If she’s dating an abusive jerk, how can she possibly revoke custody?”

“I don’t know, House. Things aren’t so simple in the legal system. She might have broken up with the guy and is asking for a review of her current situation. Since she’s always been the one caring for Y/N, there’s a chance the judge might consider that. Plus…”

“Plus what?”

“She’s asking for a restraining order against you. She wants to present you as a danger to Y/N. She might use your drug history for that, which is a convincing argument.”

“I’m clean. I’m not a danger to my daughter; she’s just doing this to me because she hates me.”

“But you haven’t been clean for long, and you’ve never been actively involved in your daughter’s life. I can’t be entirely optimistic about your chances of winning the case.”

“I need you to help me. She’s the only thing that makes sense in my life, please, help me.”

“I’ll try, House.”

•

“Have you lost your mind?” you asked when your father came home. You were eating Ben & Jerry’s straight from the tub and watching old episodes of The Simpsons.

“What are you watching?” he asked, ignoring your judgment. He knew that leaving the house abruptly might have scared you, but at that moment, nothing mattered more than spending time with you.

“The Simpsons.” You paused and then asked, “Want to change the channel? Oh, wait, not being overly nice right?”

“Right,” he said with a small smile, sitting down beside you.

“Want some ice cream?”

“No,” he replied, and you both continued watching the show in silence.

Occasionally, House glanced at you, feeling a pang in his chest. It was the first time he truly cared about someone, truly loved someone, and they were trying to take that away from him. And it was the first time he felt a real need to fight for someone.

[helly-watermelonsmellinfellon]

Recently, through Twitter, I have become aware of the fact that modern American parents have been very ignorant of their parental duties when it comes to their children. Parents are banding together to complain about the schools their children attend because their kids are getting bad grades in class, or they're getting detentions for doing bad consistently, or they're being held back because they're just not at the same level as their peers.

There was an entire thread of some woman whining about how the school was failing her kid, because his English class grade was so bad. There were thousands of comments agreeing and various reposts with anecdotes from other parents with similar experiences.

"My 26 y/o son can't even write a check for God's sake!"

And one single person finally replied with, "Do you guys not teach your kids anything at home before they start going to school?" Which then spawned people with actual common sense questioning the level of involvement these people had in the lives of their kids.

This is what led to a large surge of people complaining about how it's the school's job to teach them everything and they did their job just keeping them alive.

Now, I don't want to be mean, but it's gonna come across that way.

Parents are lazy these days.

When I was a child, my Nana and mom had me learning with Hooked on Phonics before I entered pre-K. I was 3 years old and already sounding out words that rhymed. I was practicing how quickly I could say them in under 30 seconds so I could progress to the next lesson.

mat hat sat that cat vat pat bat fat lat rat brat

etc...

When I was in pre-K(4 years old), they had a single, really old computer that had a bunch of Winnie the Pooh CD-ROM games. Because I always got my work done faster than everybody else, they let me use the computer because I could actually read and follow Pooh's instructions, and it kept me busy.

And when I entered kindergarten for the first time, I was really surprised to see that Hooked on Phonics was actually part of my curriculum and I was already very well ahead of everyone else. My mom and Nana took traching me very seriously. They not only read to me, but they would also get me Madeline books and cassette tapes from the children's library downtown. And then I would listen to the cassettes telling the story while reading the book at the same time to get used to the words.

At three years old, I was helping out in the kitchen, learning all of the different kitchen utensils and types of measurement. My mom often went between English, French and American Sign Language at random times so I picked up a lot of stuff that way. We never had a computer in the house for the first 12 years of my life, but I did have an old keyboard to learn how to type. Nana gave me basic piano lessons for a couple years. Mom taught me how to hem my clothes because she would buy me bigger clothes, hem them to size, and then let them out as I grew. Hell, Sperm Donor taught me how to write a check when I was 8. He was also a Financial Adviser, so I got a lot of lessons on money management, investments, and 401Ks and shit.

All these incredibly simple things ended up benefiting me later on, because I was so far ahead of all of the other students that it consistently put me at odds with them. I was better at reading, cooking, sewing, music, languages, etc... I was allowed time to do whatever I wanted while the rest of them had to catch up.

There is a lot more to being a parent than just making sure your kid eats three meals a day and doesn't die in a stupid way. And it seems like a lot of parents these days have completely forgotten that they have a duty to their kids beyond the feeding and clothing thing.

Certain things SHOULD be taught in schools, like how to balance a checkbook. But if it's clear that the school won't cover it, why aren't YOU doing something about that? And why do so many parents have no clue what the hell their kids are even getting up to in school? Why don't y'all get involved in your kid's lives?

[charliehoennam]

cat-n-mouse

summary: David embarks on a chase and ends up with a date

pairing: David Loki x GN!Reader

warnings: questionable police procedures, language, mentions of drugs gif credit to the most amazing person in the world nd this whole fic is dedicated to you <3 @stephendorff

SHARING IS CARING, SO PLEASE REBLOG

"This is 13-40 responding. I'm 5 minutes from the park, I'll look into it. Stand by."

The call from dispatch was to send a unit to the local park after receiving a call about a mysterious person hanging around the area with possession of drugs; more specifically, marijuana.

David personally didn't care too much about this sort of misdemeanor. God only knows he had his good ol' days smoking pot back in high school and he figures this could just very well be a not very bright teenager.

Pulling into the parking lot, he climbs out of his unmarked vehicle and takes a look around the vast park.

At this time of day, people in the park isn't very common especially with the approaching winter weather that is fairly harsh on the people of Conyers.

The sun had already set, leaving a pale blue glow in the sky as dusk begins to cover the small town. The early winter evening darkens the naked trees against the sky, bringing a familiar sensation that you could never quite explain but admired nonetheless.

The abstract silhouettes of the woods became shadows as a shade of hazy gray covered the town, hypnotizing you as the warm sunset faded into dusk.

After roaming a bit, David spots you from a distance staring up at the haunting treeling. He watches and wonders if you were the one who made the call or if you were the one the call was about. Either way, he can't understand why anyone would stay out in this weather any longer than they had to.

Your tree-gazing is cut short when you catch the shape of this mysterious shadow from the corner of your eye; his stare boring a hole into your side. You can't tell who they are, but what you can tell is that it's the figure of a large strong man.

Slowly turning your head to look over at the stranger, the winter chill slithers up your spine and makes your hairs stand on end.

Even though you don't want selfishly assume anything or jump to any presumptuous conclusions, at the same time, you can't seem ignore the increasing sense of danger. Or his thick-browed stare which is fixed on you and it's intimidating enough to make you squirm.

Maybe it's the start of dusk or the unsettling silence that exudes an eerie energy from his presence. But, when he begins taking slow steps towards your direction, that's when you decide to it's time to leave.

You turn your gaze to the ground as you begin walking towards the park trail that leads back to the main road. Glancing over your shoulder, you realize the man is now following you.

The frozen earth crunching under your boots does nothing to ease the adrenaline that starts coursing through your tense body.

You become even more uncomfortable when his footsteps become audible, growing closer and closer.

Trying to pick your speed, you walk as fast as your legs allow you to. Your heart is thumping loudly in your head. Not enough to drown out the sound of his footsteps when he does the same to catch up with you.

Panic overtakes you. You try to hide until you suddenly burst into a spring, running down the pathway. You want to look back, but the fear pumping in your veins demands that you keep running.

"Hey!" The man shouts as he begins running after you, ensuing what is now a pursuit.

Being much taller and faster than you, he catches up eventually and tackles you down to the wet ground, forcing a grunt from your lungs as you land hard on your side.

"Get off me!" you plead trying to wriggle away from his grasp. "Help! Help!"

He ignores your cries as he forces you onto your front. There's no one in sight. Shouting is useless and, if you don't try to help yourself, no one will.

You're not going down without a fight.

A strong elbow to his gut is enough knock the air out of his chest and loosen him off of you, so you try to quickly spring to your feet. But it's no use. His hand quickly grabs at your legs, pulling you back down to the ground.

His large frame overpowers you and he holds your hands behind your back. Metallic sounds ring from behind you as handcuffs lock around your wrists.

"Suspect is in custody" you frown as the man speaks into a walkie -talkie.

"Suspect?! You're a fucking cop?!"

"Get up," he orders breathlessly, ignoring your question as he climbs off you and forces you on to your feet.

"What the fuck are you even arresting me for?!"

"Whatever you were running for."

"I was running because you were fucking chasing me, you creep! You could've at least identified yourself! I wanna speak with your captain!"

In the back of his mind, he knows you're right. He didn't think about how freaky it could have seemed for you, being alone in the park with a stranger approaching you suddenly.

His body acted before his mind could process the protocols. Captain O'Malley is bound to rip him a new one for fucking up standard procedure.

He catches his breath in silence as he escorts you to his car for a pat-down. His guilt only grows when he doesn't find any illegal possessions on your person.

Your loud protests echo through the parking lot until he helps you into the backseat of his car.

He shuts the door to let you calm down and informs dispatch that back-up isn't necessary, assuring that everything is under control. Once your muffled ranting quietens down, he opens the door to talk.

"I need your name."

"Oh, sure. It's Y/F/N Go-fuck-yourself Y/L/N."

He repeatedly blinks hard before closing the door again and shares your name into the walkie-talkie, understanding why you're angry. He fucked up and it could cost him and the department, but as a cop, he knows he's entitled to stop and search given a certain level of suspicion. It doesn't mean he doesn't feel about giving you the scare of your life.

Looking through the belongings in your bag over the truck of his car, he locates your I.D to confirm your identification and shares the information with dispatch, who informs him that you have no warrants or any history of issues with the law, so he puts your things back into your bag and walks over to open the car door once more.

"Am I under arrest?" you ask impatiently as he helps you out and positions you against the cold surface to release you from the cuffs.

"No, you're not. I apologize for the scare. We got a call about a mysterious person lingering around the park with drugs and it's obviously not you."

"You can't just treat people like they're all criminals, you know."

"I'm sorry. If you'd like my badge number, you can make an official complaint at the station."

Although you know you probably should, there's a glint of guilt in his eyes that beg you not to. And, looking at him much closer and under the bright street light, you realize where you recognize him from.

"Aren't you the cop that found those little girls? The Thanksgiving kidnappings?"

"I was assigned to the case."

"I remember. I saw you on the TV," you nod with a pause. "I'm not gonna file a complaint, alright? Just don't chase people without any cause at night. It's fucking creepy."

"I'll make sure to identify myself next time. But, just out of curiosity, the fuck are you doing out here? It's cold as shit."

His big blue eyes narrow at you as you rub the soreness from your wrists.

"I cut through the park on my way home from work."

"It's not a very safe route this time of year. Empty and far like this..."

"Yeah, I didn't realize that until you tried to kidnap me."

"I wasn't kidnapping you. Although, I understand how you would have that impression in hindsight and I really am sorry about it. Why don't I give you a ride home? Make sure you get home safe?"

You look towards the road and think about how far you still are from your house. After the scare you just had, walking home alone in the dark doesn't seem very appealing.

Your gaze moves to the badge on his hip. You remember what your uncle taught you when you were younger: how to tell apart a fake badge and a real one.

"Yeah, alright."

You climb into the passenger seat as he opens the door for you and settle inside with your bag on your lap. Once he's back in the driver's seat, you tell him your address and he starts the drive there.

"I heard you're a tough cop. Made that boy kill himself."

He stays silent and glances at you guiltily.

"That never shoulda happened."

"But it did."

"I had two missing little girls to find. My methods may have been questionable, and I was reprimanded for them. But there's no excuse for them. And the girls were safely found alive. That's all I cared about."

You watch as he blinks nervously. He doesn't seem like an intentional asshole. You've met plenty of them to tell them apart. Despite his social awkwardness, he seems like a sound-minded guy.

"I'm not trying to tell you how to do your job. You seem like the kinda cop that actually cares about his victims. 'm just saying, not everyone is a suspect."

He nods silently with another firm blink. You sound just like O'Malley.

The rest of the drive to your house is quiet. The car rolls to a stop in the driveway, so you unbuckle your seatbelt and thank him for the ride.

"Just do me a favor and take Norma Lane next time? It's safer and busier this time of night."

"Fine. Just as long as you promise you won't go randomly kidnapping innocent people."

"I wasn't kidnapping you."

"Could've fooled me" you smirk jokingly at him, reaching for the door handle. "Thanks again for the ride."

"You uh think I could maybe get your number?"

"Seriously?"

"Just in case I need to bring you in for questioning or something?" he tries to smile slyly. "I'd like to make it up to you."

"You take everyone you falsely arrest out on dates to make it up to them?"

His cheeks turn a shade of pink as he looks away from your mischievous gaze.

"Not everyone, no."

"Well, I guess it's only fair" you nod unable to fight back a smile as he takes his phone out. "I mean, I don't really date cops but I could make an exception. I think I'm entitled to some compensation."

"I couldn't agree more" he chuckles handing you his phone, open to a new contact screen. "Although you did give me a mean elbow to the ribs that's probably gonna bruise."

"You deserved it," you smirk as you finish punching in the numbers to your cell phone. "You'd better call, Detective Loki."

He frowns curiously, trying to remember if he'd told you his name earlier but he can't remember if he did.

"How do you know my name?"

"Saw it on the news back in December. I have a good memory for names. Besides, Loki is a pretty cool one. Hard to forget."

"Makes sense" he smiles impressed. He admires the fact that you're smart enough to look out for yourself.

"Don't break my heart, detective" you smirk climbing out of his car.

As you walk up to the front entrance, you don't miss how he waits until you're safe inside to start the car back up and pull out of your driveway.

Despite the rocky introduction, you enjoy the way he made you feel safe. You just know you won't be able to stop thinking about him all night.

As you go on about your routine, settling in on the couch with a plate of dinner, getting ready to watch your favorite TV show, your phone flashes with a text.

"Now you have my number too. Better call me, Y/L/N."

[yslende]

cabin 16 ー children of nemesis headcanons

| author's note: yeah i only really made this because i figured out that nemesis would be my godly parent. quite a few of these are based on me. probably not going to do any more of these, if only because i'd be unable to emulate this amount of detail again.

vindictive. do i even need to say it.

ambidextrous. the lot of them.

all of them have stares that seem like they look right through you. 

insane resting bitch and poker faces. nothing shows unless they explicitly let it.

⬆️ however, any emotion they feel, they feel it STRONGLY. happiness? more like euphoria. sadness? more like depression. annoyance? more like fury. (the furies *wish* they had what nemesis kids do.)

they're the type of people to be fashionable by default because all they wear is black, red, and Leather Jacket (which is a color in itself.)

⬆️ despite this, they don't mind the camp shirts, if only because everyone else is wearing them.

three options: read rulebooks for fun, be the reason rules are created, or both. 

they treat death like a trip to the dentist: an unpleasant inevitability. 

unshakeable loyalty. once you've got a nemesis demigod on your side, they'll follow you to tartarus and back.

⬆️ likewise, if you harm them or their friends, there is nothing they won't do to get back at you. nothing is beneath them. be terrified.

natural skeptics. nemesis is a daughter of nyx, so some of her kids have likely been to the underworld. they've met shades. even so, they'll passionately argue against the existence of ghosts.

weirdly good memory. of course, they remember every insult said about them, but they also remember how many arrows you shot into the woods at archery practice last tuesday. especially good with remembering strings of letters or numbers.

⬆️ they're some of the few demigods that can do math. they do it for fun, that's how bad it is.

really good at strategy, but often people don't go along with their plans. see: nothing is beneath them.

geese fucking love them. a common sight at chb is watching geese try and bite everyone's faces off, then trip over themselves to be pet like drugged cats by the nemesis cabin.

all super good at board games, especially chess, settlers of catan, and monopoly. uno skills are 50/50.

they're the type of people to save every deus ex machina item in a video game for later, and then proceed to never use them.

great sense of balance. they're great at tightropes, and can do triple pirouettes (a type of turn in ballet) easily. they like perching in trees and watching during capture the flag if they're not fighting.

if you're unwilling to debate or close-minded, be prepared to find spiders in your underwear. *especially* if you're an athena kid.

⬆️ probably have a tarantula as a cabin pet, named 'houdini,' because he keeps ""escaping"" to the athena cabin. it's super unfortunate like that.

⬆️ they also probably have a favorite wild goose, too. 

there are no extroverted nemesis demigods. if one seems like an extrovert, they're either in denial or masking super hard.

they're the type of people to do all of the group project work alone. they have no patience for anyone who can't pull their weight.

each have their own methods of organization. if you touch their stuff you will die. they always know.

can't sleep without the ends of their blankets tucked underneath the mattress and the sides perfectly even. it just feels off to them.

socialism. communism. literally anything except pro-capitalist. look at me in my face and tell me i'm wrong.

optimistic pessimism? very 'the glass is half-empty, but at least there's something in there' vibes.

about as blunt as a club. if you want the brutal truth, ask a nemesis kid about your swordsmanship. you'll come out crying.

they take things very literally. jokes often fly over their head, but they catch sarcasm and veiled insults faster than hermes runs. 

always take things seriously. even things that aren't supposed to be taken seriously. like 'packing rocks in snowballs' seriously.

all of them despise bullies with all of their being. there isn't a nemesis demigod who won't introduce their knee to a bully's crotch for fun. hades, they'll *pay* you to let them do it.

their fighting skills and athleticism increase when serving justice, revenge, or vengeance. like normally, they're really good, but then someone steals their marshmallow or something and then they get REALLY good.

like to put extra effort into scaring and prank new campers before being nice to them. trial by fire, i guess.

however, after the inital hazing, they protect unclaimed kids with their lives. again, see: nothing is beneath them.

want to know everything, including but not limited to why you didn't put any grapes on your plate to every single reason why your godly parent acts the way they do towards you. once again, see: nothing is beneath them.

fight best with either a sword or a shield, but they're especially good with both. 

(sidenote: their favorite swords would probably be executioners' swords, which imo are super fucking cool. their favorite shields would probably be aspis (roman: clipeus) but specifically the ones with faces or figures carved in them.)

nemesis isn't a super caring mother tbh. she punishes her children mercilessly if they do something wrong or malicious. however, likewise, she praises them lavishly whenever they complete a quest or do something that demonstrates the power of cabin 16.

⬆️ her kids either have huge problems with authority or zero problems with authority. most swing wildly between the two, but that's what balance means, right?

friends with cabins: 1, 5, 8, 13, 15, 20

chill with cabins: 3, 9, 12, 14, 17, 19

does not get along with cabins: 4, 6, 7, 10, 11, 18

[squintyeyedjoel]

Through Your Eyes | Part 2 - More than Meets the Eye (Joel x Reader)

A/N: IT’S FINALLY FUCKING HERE!!!! I’m so sorry it took so long! I’ve been sitting on this for almost a year and it’s just been evolving and marinating and improving, and I hope it lives up to the hype. It’s time for it to be set free. ✨ This is truly a hybrid of game and show Joel. I see them both, hence both gifs.

I do not own The Last of Us or it’s characters. Sadly. But I carry them in my heart. Does that count for something? My soul says yes.

Warnings: Oooo, this one’s a doozy. So many things. (Let me know if I miss anything.) 😮‍💨 Some original characters, mentions of an elderly family member passing, lots of canon violence and swearing, (this one is a big one. Like a lot. There’s a hefty amount of swearing.) mention of attempted sexual assault (not to reader) without detail, graphic description of injury (not to reader) and blood, attempted abduction? Reader is a badass and sports a black eye and bloody knuckles with pride. Panic attack? But Joel scares it away. 😌 We round it all out with obscene amounts of fluff and humor between it all, sweet moments, and just soft things. It’s me. I can’t not. No use of Y/N.

Word count: 11,928

Thank you to @fordo-kixed-rex for reading over this five bazillion times for me and fangirling over it when I was having my down moments. You’re a real one.

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Xxx

You rocked in the saddle of your horse as she slowly followed behind the first few people in the group.

Left.

Right.

Left. 

Right.

Over.

And over.

And over.

Some quicker footfalls to your left made you turn your head, seeing Joel atop his horse come alongside you before slowing his steed back to the slow crawl the rest had fallen into.

“You okay?” He mumbled. “Look like you’re about to fall asleep.”

“Don’t tempt me,” you groused, turning back to face forward with a yawn.

He huffed out a laugh before shaking his head at you almost imperceptibly, nudging his horse to go a little faster toward the front of the group.

Watching him with narrowed brows, you saw everyone else make sure to steer clear of him, giving him a wide berth and a clear path to the front. Tommy’s words from that first day rang in your head.

“You saw a side of Joel right out the gate some wait a lifetime to miss.”

Joel whistled loudly, gathering everyone’s attention, as the whole party came to a stop. “Alright! Listen up!” Some grumbles began to go around, but stopped with one crook of his brow. “That’s an awful lot of yappin’ for people suppose t’be listenin’.” 

If a pin had dropped in the grass underfoot, it would have echoed in the vast forest around you. Even nature seemed to heed his warning, only a few stray birds chirping somewhere in the distance brave enough to break the silence. A lone frog echoed in a nearby creek bed. A few bugs buzzed by, trying to ease the tension, and it seemed to work, because finally Joel went on after staring at everybody.

“We need to pick up the pace. This isn’t a leisurely walk to the park and back. We have a goal we need to get to, and back, and we got one week to do it.”

“Who made you the boss?” Some poor brave soul asked from behind you. A young man, maybe in his mid twenties from how he sounded. You didn’t dare turn to look at him, not wanting to move your eyes from Joel, because if looks could kill…. Joel would currently be facing a serious charge for the way he was glowering at the faceless voice behind you.

“Common sense.” A few small laughs went around the group, the corner of Joel’s mouth twitching up just slightly when he saw you shake your head with a smirk. “This was my run- our run,” he pointed to you then back to himself before retaking the reins to his horse, “and the council thought it best you all tag along to bring the most back we could. Now I don’t mind-”

“Yes, you do,” another voice behind you said, female, almost teasingly, making another round of soft laughter go around.

“Fine. I mind. A lot. But we’re here now. So, since you’re tagging along on our run, what we say goes. Agreed?” When no one protested, he gestured you up to the front with a tilt of his head, going on while you nudged your horse forward. 

“Now, we need to move faster. Any bandits or infected we pass by would pick us off like flies at this pace. The cart will be the slowest, I want the four of you to stay with the cart at all times and watch all four sides.” He pointed to four individuals who nodded, moving toward the cart pulled by a single horse and rider. 

“The three of you pull up the rear.” More pointing and nodding. “The rest of you, in the middle. Keep your eyes open. Everyone keep at a steady pace, we camp at sundown wherever that is. Don’t push your horses too far.” He began to turn his own mount to move forward. “Not their fault we’re a bunch of dumbasses.”

“I think that’s the most I’ve ever heard him say at once,” you heard someone mutter behind you, making you smile.

“At once? Try ever,” another retorted.

Joel looked over at you. “What? Why you grinnin’?”

“They respect you.”

He scoffed. “That so hard to believe?”

“It’s a side of you I’ve not seen before. I’m used to bad puns and screwdrivers, not….” You made a swooping gesture to the group behind you, “that.”

He shook his head once, tisking at you. “Shows what you know. I’m actually partly in charge of security around Jackson.”

Your eyes widened as you turned as much as your saddle would allow to look at him, the leather creaking against the movement. “Really?”

He nodded once in confirmation, a proud smile starting up his face. “Only a part time type’f thing, and it’s purely on a trial basis right now, but…. Yeah.” He grinned brightly at you. “The jokin’ and woodworkin’ are just for fun.” The smile turned somewhat dopey and lopsided.

“There’s more to you than meets the eye, Joel Miller.” He rolled his eyes at you, the grin melting into a scoff and his signature sour expression with impressive speed. Though his eyes still shone brightly, giving away his true amusement. “And I’m gonna try to see it all.”

Shaking his head at you again, Joel looked back forward, nudging his horse to go a bit faster and pull ahead of you. “Nah. Not that deep, darlin’.”

Urging your mount forward, you maneuvered to your right, and fell in beside him with a grin. “That’s what you think.”

Joel tilted his head down and to the side toward you as he spoke for emphasis, keeping his eyes forward. “That’s what I know.” He cut his gaze to you briefly after a moment to try and drive his point home before straightening back up in his saddle, his eyes going studiously back to the wide expanse of land ahead. 

Your grin melted into a smirk, seemingly a new permanent fixture since moving to Jackson. Or more specifically, since moving in with Joel and Ellie. That thought made the side of your mouth tick even higher. “We’ll see.”

Xxx

In the chaos of starting up a new life in Jackson, you’d overlooked one little detail. While you could repair and paint just about anything on your own, you were shit at stitching any stuffed toys back together Joel happened on during runs. It was possible, but it was slow going, and to be honest, looked a bit like field dressings for a battle wound instead of repairs. 

You’d thrown the last attempt of an old wrinkled teddy bear at Joel when he’d called it Sargent Cuddles, Ellie only adding to the confirmation when she asked if you could make an eyepatch for the bear instead to cover the deep scar you’d given it by way of cross stitches.

Halfway through that first week, you’d walked into the town’s seamstress with the best smelling cinnamon loaf the bakery had to offer, fresh and steaming, under your arm. When the girl behind the counter stopped what she was doing, setting down the socks she was darning while her nose went high in the air like a bloodhound as she took a deep sniff with her eyes glassed over, you grinned. 

Target acquired.

“Can I help you?” Her voice was soft and kind, and her smile as she rose to her feet from the chair helped settle any trepidation you felt about reaching out.

People hadn’t always been kind about your hobby, for one reason or another, hence why you came with bribes at the ready. But you had a feeling this time would be different. You smirked as she nonchalantly eyed the loaf under your arm.

“Hi! Yeah! I’m the one who restores the toys? I opened up in the old bookstore down the street?” You introduced yourself, and recognition went off behind her eyes at the sound of your name.

“Oh! Joel’s girl!”

Your breath caught in your chest as your head gave a little shake of confusion at the declaration. “What?”

She chuckled somewhat nervously. “No! No, not like that, I mean…. His neighbor. His new lodger. The one in the attic.” She was talking a mile a minute. “Not his ‘his’ girl….” She slapped a palm to her forehead, cradling her head in her hand as she rocked it back and forth before pulling back just enough to look at you conspiratorially. “But can you imagine?”

After a moment of silence where you both simply stared at each other, soft laughter took over, melting the tension between you.

“Let me start over,” she huffed, lowering her hand from her face to extend it to you in greeting. “I’m Jane. Nice to meet you.”

As you shook her hand, you couldn’t help but smile at her antics. “Likewise.”

Jane turned her attention back down to the socks she had abandoned when you came in, fiddling with them absently before she looked back up at you, a soft tint of embarrassment staining her cheeks. “So, what brings you here?”

“Oh! Right.” Setting the loaf on the counter, you shrugged the backpack off your shoulder and set it down beside the bread, fishing out the few stuffed animals Joel had brought back that needed the most help. “I was hoping we could work out a deal. I can do some basic stitching, but even then, Joel and Ellie have compared my work to that of a field medic more than anything.” 

Jane snickered at the comment as she took one of the worn stuffed animals, turning it over in her hands and analyzing it as you continued.

“People trade me all sorts of goods for these, like this loaf.” You gestured to it with a bob of your head, then placed your hand on the still steaming bread. “The baker’s son has a birthday coming up, and she wanted something special. Joel and Tommy don’t always bring back stuffed animals so it wouldn’t be constant work, but I was hoping when they do, I could bring them here, and we could work out some sort of trade system for the repairs-”

“No need,” Jane said, smiling down at the stuffed tiger in her hands. You arched a brow at her, waiting for her to go on, and she finally tore her gaze away from the toy and up to you. “I had one just like this as a kid. Loved it to bits. It looked like it had been through the wars before I lost it, patches everywhere and stuffing missing so it was lumpy…. I learned to sew on that thing.” Jane looked back at the toy again fondly. “I’ll help you. All I ask is that I get to keep this one, and maybe one every few runs if they happen to stumble on any others like I used to have. I…. I had a collection.” 

When she brought her gaze back up to meet yours, her eyes were misty. “It was small, but it was everything to me. Got a new one every year when I was little from my grandparents. Stopped when I hit that certain age where adults deem you too old for those things. Which was fine.” She sniffed, a tear falling silently down her cheek. “Then my grandpa he…. He started having memory issues.” She took a deep, shaky breath, smiling sadly at the toy. “Regressed a certain amount of years…. Just so happened to be when I was a certain age, still, in his mind, and he got me a stuffed toy every year for my birthday, until….”

You reached out, placing your hand over hers. “Keep whatever you want. You don’t even have to do repairs to keep them.” She began to protest, swiping at her tears with the back of the hand still holding the tiger when you squeezed her other hand gently. “The whole reason I’m doing this in the first place is to help bring some joy back into the world. And I want you to be happy, you deserve to be happy, without me lording something over you like demanding a trade in exchange-”

Jane flipped her hand in your grip, squeezing you like you had her. “And doing this will make me happy.” You studied her for a long moment. “Do you know how boring it is to darn a sock?” You snorted a laugh, and she smiled. “Everybody in this damn town needs to take better care of their socks, I swear…. I’m up to my eyeballs in them. Nothing would make me happier than to work on something that would be giving back more to the community than dumb stinky, holey, wool.”

With a nod, you gave her hand still in your grip one firm shake, a grin crawling up your face. “It’s a deal. I’ll try to tackle the easy ones and send the few in need of more love your way. But!” You let go of her hand and held up a finger, wagging it like you were lecturing a petulant child.  “I’m also dropping some of these goods by, too.” Patting the bread on the counter before softly pushing it closer toward her, you laughed at her show stopping grin and good-natured roll of her eyes in response.

“Fine,” she mumbled around the smile, the sound anything but angry. “If you insist.”

A few days later, you’d dropped a few stuffed animals off to her that Joel had stumbled on during patrol, Ellie tagging along with you. She had opted to stay outside the shop while you went in though, leaning against the doorframe by the front window, taking in the sights and sounds of the city street.

“Not a fan of needles,” she mumbled, glancing into the shop as you opened the door to go in.

“This isn’t that kind of needle.”

“I said what I said.”

You didn’t press her on it, just nodded and mumbled an ‘okay’ before disappearing into the shop.

“Hey!” Jane greeted you, pushing aside her current project immediately to make room for the box you were carrying. “Oh, these are cute!” She picked one up in each hand, lifting them up to look at them better before trading them out for another and repeating the process until each patient had been analyzed. “They’ll be easy.” She turned to you with a smile. “I’ll be done by this weekend.”

“No rush!” You assured her as she set the box behind the counter. “If you’re not done until then, you’ll have to leave them with Tommy, though. I’m going out of town with Joel on a run, it’ll take a few days, maybe a week max. We leave tomorrow. Though, no, actually, you can just leave them with Ellie, what am I saying-”

“You’re doing what?” She interrupted you.

Focusing back on her face, you tried to get back on topic. “What? Oh, yeah! We’re going back to where I lived right before Jackson to get the stores of paints and stuff I had. Bucket loads of it, no pun intended.” You turned to look at Ellie over your shoulder. “She’s rubbing off on me in more ways than one, I guess….”

“Is it just you and Joel?”

Her question caught you off guard, pulling your gaze back to her with knit brows. “It was going to be, but the council decided it was a ‘waste of resources’, so we have to take a little group with us. Why?”

“I’m coming with you.” No hesitation, just straight to the point.

Your eyes went wide. “What? Why?”

“You said you lived about a week north, right? Near the university?”

“Yeah. Because of the university, there were storage units nearby, used to be climate controlled before everything, now they’re just enclosed spaces with extra security to keep clickers n’ shit out. I lived in one, worked in another, and stored in a third. Got pretty good at picking locks, too.” You smirked.

Her eyes were wide and serious. “The ones by the north end of campus?”

Your expression went flat. “Don’t tell me….”

“I lived in an abandoned place on the south end of campus.” She had started to grin like a Cheshire Cat. “We probably were within spittin’ distance of each other and didn’t even know it.”

A laugh barked out of your chest, several more tumbling out after it until you were bent over her counter on your elbows, wheezing. Pushing up to rest on your forearms you met her gaze again, amusement on both your faces. “No fucking way.”

“I left a sewing machine behind. It was there when I moved in, and I hope it’s still there and still works, heaven knows, but…. The buildings by the school had power when the Fireflies were there. I’d use it when I could, and I was able to do so much more work. Now that I’m here I could actually make use of it with all that I have on my plate, and the dam giving us electricity….” She sighed dreamily. “I’m going. That’s final.”

Before you could respond, the bell over the door jingled, making you stand up straight and turn to look at the newcomer.

“Everything okay?” Ellie’s voice was soft as she poked her head in, causing you to do a double take. “I heard raised voices.”

You nodded once. “Yeah. Yeah, we’re all good. Just excited. Turns out we lived right by each other before moving here.”

“Oh shit! No way!” She stood up straight with a wide grin, stepping fully into the shop and letting the door close behind her.

“Language,” you scowled.

“Sorry, Miss Fanny,” she looked sheepish, spinning on her heel dramatically before exiting the shop.

You turned back to Jane who looked on amused. “She thinks she’s funny because I use a fanny pack.” Plopping onto a tall stool that sat in front of the counter, you stared at your friend.

Jane let out a low ‘ah’ as if she now understood everything.

Knitting your brows before arching one, you leaned on one elbow on the counter. “What?”

“Why is she outside?” She asked as she fiddled with some projects behind the counter.

“Said she ‘wasn’t a fan of needles’,” you mumbled, air quoting her words as you turned to look back at Ellie through the window. “Whatever that means.”

Jane hummed in understanding, drawing your eyes back to her. “Tommy got really drunk at the bar one night after I first got here. Saying all kinds of shit. People kept walking off because he wouldn’t shut up, so I opted to walk him home to Maria. It wasn’t far, and he’s a good guy. Anyway, on the way to his house, he starts mutterin’ about his brother and his new kid, how they just got back from some failed medical something or other with the Fireflies, most of it was unintelligible.” 

She crossed her arms over her chest, looking at Ellie. You followed her gaze, finding the teen walking back and forth in the shade in front of the building, scuffing her heels as she went, and kicking rocks.

“Then, he got real sad, and said somethin’ about how he’d sent them to the university right after seein’ him for the first time in months. It was to get info on where to go for the medical procedure, I guess. Anyway.” She took a deep breath. “Apparently they got ambushed there, and Joel got stabbed real bad, almost didn’t make it. That girl out there had to care for him for weeks, drag him somewhere safe, stitch him up….”

Your breath caught in your chest as she paused for emphasis, unable to tear your eyes from Ellie as emotion swelled in your gut for your fellow housemates, but especially the tiny redhead on the other side of the glass.

“Tommy was real broken up about it. Said Joel almost died, and he felt like it was his fault. Ellie had to hunt, and somehow got Joel medicine.”

You turned to face Jane again. “How?”

“Those details weren’t real clear.” She shrugged. “Like I said, he was plastered. Maybe this whole story is some drunken imagining, but the way he sounded compared to all the shit he said in the bar?” Her face melted into something between sadness and understanding. “I’m inclined to believe him.” 

She took a hesitant breath, but stopped before letting it out slowly, then closed her eyes for a moment. After another shallow breath, she opened them to focus on you, and tried again, her voice even softer still. 

“We’d made it to his house by this point. Maria had come out and was helping me to get him inside, up the porch steps…. And he just broke down halfway up. Sat down, broke down, and started sobbing. Made it even harder to understand.” She rolled her eyes and you chuckled softly. “He said something about the medicine came at too high a cost. That Ellie paid…. Would be paying….” Jane swallowed roughly, looking to the girl through the window with something akin to admiration, then back at you. “He said it changed her.”

“Changed?” You could only whisper.

“Broke her. He said whatever happened was enough to take a spitfire, and make her an ember.” You both looked back at the teen one last time. “She’s improved a lot. I’ve seen her grow, come out of her shell just since I’ve been here, but…. It’s her eyes. They’re haunted. Whatever happened out there…. It didn’t stay out there. And it ain’t leavin’ anytime soon.”

“That explains a lot. About both of them,” you mused quietly.

“Joel I don’t know much about. He’s just the town grump.”

Despite the dark turn the conversation had taken, you burst out laughing, seeing Ellie turn toward the window at the sound with a grin.

“Everyone keeps telling me that, even him, but I just don’t see it!”

Jane’s face turned up in amusement softly. “Well, maybe you’re just one of the lucky ones like Ellie, and he likes you.”

“I think he tolerates me.” You looked across your shoulder at her, getting back to your feet from the stool you’d been perched on and faced her fully. “I live in his house. It’d be awkward if we hated each other.”

“True,” she grinned smugly.

“What?”

“You’ll figure it out.”

Xxx

Jane came riding up beside you, smiling wider than the canyon you’d passed a few miles back.

“I’m gonna regret askin’ but what in the hell has you happier than a butterfly on a daisy?”

“That’s not a real saying,” Jane mumbled, looking at you through skeptical, knit brows.

“Doesn’t mean it’s not applicable,” you countered, your own brows arched high in challenge. 

With a roll of her eyes and a sigh, Jane circled back to the topic at hand. “We’re out in the open!” She whispered, excitement lacing her tone. ��I love Jackson, don’t get me wrong, but it’s so nice to be able to breathe.”

A smirk made its way up your face. “I know what you mean. Problem is you trade security for a great wide unknown. The possibilities of things that can go wrong out here are much scarier than anything in Jackson.”

She pulled a face. “Nothin’s gonna go wrong when we have a man like Joel leading us. He knows what he’s doing.”

“Most of the time,” you mumbled. “The rest he’s just wingin’ it.”

“Heard that,” Joel grumbled as he passed by your other side, pulling in front of you from the back of the group where he was making rounds. “You’re one to talk.” He looked over his shoulder at you, face stoic as ever, but his eyes showed his amusement.

“I know things,” you shot back, head tilted back to look down your nose at him. “Lots of stuff.”

“Oh, I see,” his tone was condescending, but playful. “Stuff.”

“And things.”

“Oh, we mustn't forget the things….”

“Yeah, okay.” You looked to the side with an unamused grin. “Fuck you, Joel.”

“I mean, if you’re offerin’….”

Your jaw dropped as your head turned slowly to face him, eyes wide as you simply stared at him in shock.

He smirked. “What? You can dish it, but you can’t take it?” Joel’s tone was nothing but teasing, his eyes dancing with unspoken amusement.

Narrowing your eyes at him, his smile faltered slightly. “You have no idea what I can take.” Nudging your horse forward to fall into step beside him, you held his gaze with your head high, brow arched. “And I don’t think you want to find out.”

“Whaddya mean?”

“When I push back. You wouldn’t be able to handle it, Joel.”

He cleared his throat. “Look, I was just messing around. This wasn’t supposed to take such a serious turn. I’m sor-”

You couldn’t take it anymore. The laugh tumbled out of your mouth before you could catch it, more and more coming out to join it.

Joel lowered his brows, glaring at you. “That ain’t funny.”

Wheezing, you pointed at him. “You should have seen your face!”

A horse trotting up beside you made you turn, expecting to see Jane once again at your side, but all you were met with was her horse, sans rider. You thought quickly enough to grab the reins and guide it along with you, before you looked back at Joel, finding his eyes already searching the group. Turning, you tried to sit higher in your saddle for a better vantage point, when movement out of the corner of your eye caught your attention.

Near the tree line, Jane struggled in the arms of a man as he yanked her back towards the cover of the woods, none too delicately, one hand over her mouth to keep her quiet.

“Jane!” You yelled at the top of your lungs, and you could see when she heard you, her body going rigid in her captor's hold.

The man yelped, pulling his hand back from her mouth and shaking it. 

She must have bit him. 

Before you could fully process much of anything else, Jane was screaming at the top of her lungs, “Run!” 

The hand was back over her mouth before she could say anything else, the raider pulling them both back until they disappeared into the trees, Jane putting up a violent struggle as they went. 

Not willing to look away from where she disappeared, you called out for Joel, and he was beside you in an instant. His horse picked up on the sudden unease spreading over the group, shifting its weight from foot to foot restlessly.

“We’ll get her, darlin’,” Joel reassured in a low voice. “Don’t you worry. We ain’t-”

Suddenly the entire group was surrounded by raiders, guns and knives of various sizes pointed towards every member of your party, violent threats being traded back and forth from both sides. 

While you had thought your group was large, this bandit raid made your numbers pale in comparison. At least double your head count at first glance, easily. And you had a feeling more were lurking in the shadows somewhere, if what had happened to Jane was any indication. 

You noticed that while several of the men aimed menacing looking rifles at your party, they lacked the magazines full of ammunition to back them up. Leaning toward Joel as subtly as you could when they ordered everyone to dismount their horses, you mumbled under your breath, “They have no bullets.”

He looked at you in confusion for just a moment, brows knit until one of the raiders yelled loudly and pulled his attention away. 

Falling in behind him, you whispered again, “Their rifles. They have no ammunition. No magazines. It’s all for show.” You saw the moment the information registered for him, his shoulders setting a bit broader, and his head held just that much higher.

A raider a few feet to your right was eyeing you skeptically, looking like he might dismount his horse any second and make a move toward you, so you pretended to trip into the back of Joel, smirking into his chest when he caught you.

Without missing a beat, his arm firmly around your shoulders to steady you, Joel went straight for negotiations, trying to talk the men down, offering supplies, whatever they wanted. You weren’t far from Jackson, it was a smart move. You could get back and recoup your losses in no time. But people? You can’t replace them.

“Nah,” the head honcho said with a sarcastic sneer. “We’ve got somethin’ else’n mind.”

You didn’t like the sound of that.

The raider in charge gestured Joel over to a smaller group of his men, which he obeyed reluctantly. After looking down at you for a moment, offering the most subtle nod you’d ever seen a person give, he began to move toward the small group of raiders. 

The boss stopped him just short of the rest and asked him a question in a low voice, which Joel answered softly, shooting you a look which you couldn’t quite read. You couldn’t quite make out what he said, either, but then the head raider decided to make a scene, show who was in charge, and it all made sense. 

In a loud voice, full of bravado and misplaced charisma, the raider turned back to your group with arms spread wide, rifle held lazily in one hand, and called for Joel’s second in command - Will - to hop down and join his ‘fearless leader’. 

Surrounded by the smaller group of thugs, you could tell what the goal was…. They meant to make a spectacle for the rest of you. Take the leaders down, the rest will follow. But Joel didn’t let them get that far. He mumbled something to Will so subtly, you almost missed it, but you saw the younger man’s eyes dart to one of the raider’s guns, and you immediately knew where this was headed.

It all went by in a blur, and yet it was like you could see every detail in painful accuracy. And you couldn’t look away.

In an instant Joel had dropped three of the men in the smaller group surrounding them.

Will another two.

They both had commandeered their own rifles back off of those men, and they were now aimed at the remaining two raiders around their small group. 

The one in front of Joel began to move forward, only making Joel smirk as he jerked the bolt action on the rifle. “Try it.” The raider stopped, making Joel’s smirk only rise higher up his cheek. “Good choice.”

That’s when all hell broke loose. 

It was almost like someone kicked a pile of ants. The stillness of the valley you were in was broken and everyone swarmed at once. A cacophony of sounds clashing all around you. 

You went on autopilot for most of it, simply fighting for your life and that of those in your group. It could have been hours or only minutes later, but the next time you really started to pay attention, or frankly, were able to focus on any one thing in particular, you saw a raider sneaking up on Will a few paces in front of you, and you lifted the rifle you’d snagged off of one of the men you’d taken down.

“Hey, bucko!” The raider froze and turned to you with a sneer, the expression falling off his face when he came nose to nose with the muzzle of your rifle. You cocked the bolt action just for added effect, chambering a bullet as you somehow had found the one locked and loaded gun the raiders had. Hands lifted in surrender, he slowly took a resigned step backwards, grip tightening around the knife still clutched in his right hand. “Drop it,” you ordered, narrowing your eyes at his slight smirk. “Nice and easy, now.”

Will turned to see what the fuss was, his eyes going wide when he realized what had happened. He looked between you and the raider from over the bandit’s shoulder, raising a brow at you in question, but you motioned him on with a jerk of your head to the left, keeping the rifle braced on your right shoulder and aimed at the raider. “I got it. Go help the others.”

Nodding, Will took off toward the remaining chaos, leaving you with the scumbag at the end of your barrel. He started to move after Will but you tisked, taking a step closer. “Not a good idea.” The lowlife hissed through his teeth in aggravation, but you cut him off before he could even start in on an actual sentence. “Knife. Ground. Now.” With a half step forward for emphasis, you gestured toward the field underfoot with your rifle before centering your sights back on their target. 

The man arched his back away from you as you took the small step closer, his hands shooting up higher beside his head. He then began to slowly lower to his haunches to lay the blade on the grass, his other hand still held up in surrender. His eyes flitted from the weapon to something behind you, and before he could set it all the way down, or you could turn to look, an arm wrapped around your neck, cutting off your air supply.

Both the man behind you and the man in front of you laughed, cheering at your misfortune as you dropped your rifle, the weight of the weapon jerking its strap across your shoulders as it fell to your side. 

You clawed at the arm wrapped around your neck, gasping for air, and grunting as you tried to get a shot in with your elbow, but he pinned down your arms with his other arm wrapping around your torso.

A voice close to your ear leered, “Don’t worry, sweetheart. It’ll all be over soon.”

The raider in front of you suddenly started screaming, dropping the blade in his hand in order to clutch his knee, blood pouring violently from a wound made by a large pocket knife you’d know anywhere protruding from its side. 

“Don’t move!”

All three sets of eyes pulled over to find Joel standing just a few feet away, rifle raised and aimed at the raider now in a heap on the ground. His gun swung over to the man still holding you hostage, a dark chuckle rippling out through the chest pressed closely to your spine at the movement, and it made your skin crawl.

“Let ‘er go,” Joel said in a low voice, something dark and menacing thrown right back at the thief trying to steal your life away.

“Nah,” the man said after a minute, amusement heavy in his tone. “We’re just havin’ too much fun, aren’t we, sweetheart?” He tightened his grip around your neck as he pulled you closer, squishing his cheek to yours in mock affection.

You mumbled something as best you could, but it came out all garbled from the pressure on your windpipe.

“Aw, I’m sorry, I’m bein’ mean, aren’t I?” His tone was mocking. He loosened his grip slightly, the arm around your midsection disappearing altogether as he twisted slightly to get a better view of your face. “Now, try that again?”

“I said,” your voice was hoarse from the struggle, so you cleared your throat, shifting your weight slightly as you looked to Joel with wide eyes in mock fear. “I said-” In one smooth motion, you swung the butt of your rifle up and back, and slammed the man in the face, squinting when blood sprayed out of his mouth and onto your cheek.

Taking the opportunity, you elbowed him in the ribs, before stomping on his foot, spinning around once his arm around your neck released you and kneeing him in the crotch. 

Stepping closer to him once he fell to his knees cradling his damaged manhood, you looked down at him as you wiped his blood from your cheek with the back of your sleeve. “I said fuck you.”

With a quick jerk of your knee to his face, the raider fell backwards, out cold. You turned to face his friend who laid in a ball on the ground, hands gripped tightly around the knife still protruding from his knee.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” He began to try and scramble back, looking to Joel for some sort of help as you approached.

Joel only shrugged, looking at you with wide eyes for just a moment before turning back to the poor man. “Hell hath no fury ‘n all that….”

Kneeling in front of the man, you smiled disarmingly sweet. Reaching out to grip the knife, you looked up at Joel. “This yours?” Lifting a brow at your rhetorical question, you knew very well it was his, he nodded. With a yank, you pulled it out of the man’s leg, his screams cut short when you elbowed him in the face, knocking him out like his companion.

Lifting your rifle slightly, Joel began to make a fuss, “Darlin’, they’re down-” but he stopped when you over exaggeratedly clicked on the safety, lifting a sarcastic brow at him. Rising to your feet, you wiped the blade off on your jeans before closing it and handing it back to Joel.

He took it cautiously, watching as you rubbed at your throat with a wince. “Thanks.”

“No, thank you. If you hadn’t shown up and distracted them, I wouldn’t have been able to get the jump on ‘em.”

He looked at the two men before looking back at you, his eyes flitting down to the rifle for the briefest of moments. “Looks like you would’ve been just fine.”

You leaned in closer to him, adjusting the weapon’s strap across your chest. “Take the compliment, Joel.”

He grinned softly. “Yes ma’am, Miss Fanny.”

You groaned at the nickname. “You know what? I don’t even really mind.”

It looked like Joel wanted to say more, but other members of your group came running up, looking around frantically only to find all the enemies already taken care of.

“We didn’t hear any shots,” Will said absently, staring at the two motionless forms on the ground after a wary glance. “Thought you might need some help.” After a long moment of silence, he looked from you, to Joel, then the raiders. “They still alive?” He pointed toward the men, one of them stirring with a pained moan.

“Only just,” Joel mumbled, watching the one man begin to roll to his side, the one who had held on to you, before his gaze flicked to the other, noticing his breaths becoming shallower and shallower. Gesturing to the latter with his rifle still held in his hands, he looked back up at Will. “That one’s not longed for this world if you don’t get something to stop the bleedin’. Need information from both, preferably.”

Will nodded, motioning to the others with a nod of his head, quickly moving toward the raiders.

You had turned toward Joel, your back to the men when a twisted voice rose up behind you, slurring around laughter as if it knew the funniest joke in all the world. 

“Well, sweetheart, I’m just so goddamn sorry things didn’t work out ‘tween us.” 

Joel glared at the raider over your shoulder. “Stop talking, asshole,” he grumbled, rolling his eyes as he took a step closer to the man, slightly in front of you. Turning to face the man yourself, you thought you’d steeled yourself for whatever you’d see, but the twisted smirk you were met with made your stomach drop. 

Laughter turned to wheezing, wet coughs before the man spit off to the side in front of him, blood painting the ground an ugly, violent color. He lifted his head just enough to look at you again, snickering as he peered through his lashes. “I had such plans for you….”

“I said be quiet,” Joel’s voice had grown more firm, and he opted to step to the side, obscuring your view of the creep instead of taking any steps closer.

“Oh, but they were nothin’ compared to what we were gonna do to that little friend of yours…. That blonde? Whoo! She was feisty!”

“Can somebody shut him the fuck up!” Joel bellowed, turning to the group simply standing by and watching the exchange.

Will shrugged off his outer layer flannel, balling it up as he stomped toward the man and began to shove it in his mouth.

The man weaseled back away from the cloth, shouting with wild eyes, “You’ll never find her!” His following laughter was muffled around the material, manic and unhinged.

“Will, I need you to….” Joel trailed off when you put a hand on his shoulder, pushing him to the side gently. He tried to stop you walking towards the lunatic, but you met his gaze with your own, unwavering, and he let you go, following close behind, one hand adjusting his grip on his rifle as he held it loosely just in case.

Kneeling down in front of the man, you got close to his face. “What did you do with Jane?” Your voice was so low and quiet, you barely recognized it.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” The man mumbled around the shirt, eyes wild and sure of himself. 

Looking down toward the ground, you huffed out an unamused laugh. “I’m going to ask you one more time,” you lifted your gaze to look at him straight on again, “and you’re going to tell me, or else my friends are going to be not so nice to you.” The man scoffed. “What did you do…. with Jane?”

The man leaned forward, his nose almost touching yours. “Go fuck yourself, bitch.”

Without hesitation, you slammed Joel’s pocket knife you’d swiped from his jacket a moment ago into the man’s hand where it rested on the ground with your left hand, yanking the shirt out of his mouth as he screamed with your right, and tackled him backwards onto the ground, pinning your right forearm against his throat. As he struggled against your hold, you twisted the knife still gripped tightly in your hand, making him settle into the dirt.

“Okay! Okay! Okay! Fuck! Just stop!” He looked at Joel with wide, wild eyes. “Get the bitch off me!” 

You noticed some of your party moving toward you, but they stopped with a hand motion from Joel.

He studied you with an unreadable expression before looking back at the man and jutting his chin toward you. “Tell her what she wants t’know.”

“Get her off me first!”

“Talk!” You growled, digging your arm in further, making him gasp. When he turned a defiant look up your way, your knee ‘slipped’ where you straddled him and landed dangerously close to his ego once again.

“Okay, okay, goddamn!” He wheezed, collapsing fully into the ground below him, eyes fluttering shut as his face twisted in pain. 

It was all you could do to repress the triumphant smirk wanting to crawl up your face, your brows arching in amusement instead.

“She’s back at our camp. ‘Least that’s where we left her. Don’t know how she’d move much after what boss did, though.” He looked back up at you again, everything about his expression amused, and nothing seemed to dull it, even as you pressed your arm harder into his throat, only causing his words to take on a sinister hiss. “He stuck her good. You think this little knife is somethin’, you should see the one he used on-” his words trailed off on a gurgled chuckle as you continued to lean into him.

“Hey,” Joel’s calm voice near your ear made you pause, staring down at the creep. “We need him alive, darlin’. Stop.” A warm strong hand gripping your upper arm firmly made you lift off the man just slightly, glaring down at him as he sucked in a breath and started coughing, grinning up at you triumphantly. He hissed with a wince when you yanked out the knife, bringing the hand close to his chest to hold it tight with his other, and wrapped it haphazardly with the flannel Will had shoved in his mouth to stop the bleeding. 

“You Jacksoner’s are all the same,” he shook his head in amusement. “Bleeding hearts, all of ya!” He grinned up at the group in the most sinister way you’d ever seen. “And that is why you’re all gonna burn.”

At that, Joel was yanking you off the raider and pulling him up to a seated position with both hands twisted into his jacket, getting right into his face with the most menacing voice you’d heard yet. “What did you just say?”

The man just smiled a tight lipped smile, eyebrows shooting up before he used his good hand to pantomime locking his mouth and tossing away the key.

“They had a bunch of dead guns. No ammunition. How in the hell were they planning to do something to Jackson?” You mused offhandedly, mostly talking to yourself.

“Guns ain’t the only way to make somebody bleed,” the freak singsonged, looking at you gleefully.

You glared at him. “I liked you better out cold.”

He guffawed. “I liked you better up close….”

Joel gave the man a forceful shake by the front of his shirt still in his grip. “What’d I say?” The man rolled his head back to Joel with a bored look, his lips twitching up just slightly. “Y’either start talkin’ ‘bout somethin’ important I want t’hear about, or I’ll reach my hand so far down your Goddamn-”

“This one’s not doing well, Joel,” one of the party mentioned, checking the pulse of the other raider. “We need to get them back to camp.”

The man in Joel’s grip slowly melted into a wide grin. “Looks like you need me now more than ever.”

Joel began to smirk, and it made the raider’s sure grin falter. “Yeah, but that can change real quick.” He shoved the man back, rising to his full height before turning back toward you and walking quickly. A hand closing around your arm once again, you followed where it led. 

“Get them to camp. Will, get a party of four together and come with us to go get Jane. The rest of these assholes are dead, there’s no one to keep her there anymore. She probably tried to run, and if she’s injured, we need to spread out and cover as much ground as possible.” 

He stopped, looking over his shoulder when no one was moving. “Let’s go!”

When he turned to look down at you, you saw something in his eyes close to fear. “We’ll find her, Joel.”

He held your gaze as he kept moving you further away from the scene. “I know, darlin’.” He looked forward again, walking a bit faster. “I know. Now let’s get goin’. Sun’s gonna be settin’ real soon.”

Xxx

As the two of you made your way in the direction the thug had sent you in, your mind began to wander.

“What if it’s the wrong direction, Joel?”

“He said go east-”

“No, I know.” You closed your eyes briefly as you took in a sharp breath through your nose before looking forward once again. “But what if he lied?”

Joel sighed, looking down at his feet as he continued to walk. “Darlin’,” he looked deep in thought but also at a loss for words at the same time. It was such an inextricably Joel thing to do, it almost pulled a smile up one side of your face.

Almost.

Glancing over his shoulder toward the small group that was following along to help, the rest staying behind with the two assholes, he then took a step closer to you, speaking in a low voice.

“He very well may’ve.” When your eyes went wide, Joel was quick to continue on. “But,” he smiled at your now narrowed glare. “I’ve been patrolling these hills for a few years, now. Never out this far, mind you, but I know the general area. There’s a stream that runs not far from here. Anyone with any brains would camp near it. I know the worlds gone t’shit, but I refuse to believe we as a species have fallen that far that fast.”

His smile spread a little further at your soft chuckle.

“Touché, Miller. Touché.”

Grinning like a child, Joel turned back to the rest of the group, his expression turning stony in an instant. “The rest of you, fan out!” His voice was a low hiss. “Keep quiet and keep aware. These trees are dense from here on out to the creek. Keep a lookout. I’m not responsible for your own stupidity.”

Good-natured eye rolls went around as the few people spread into the trees starting to populate the clearing you’d been passing through.

Joel grabbed your arm when you went to take a step forward. “Not you.” He shook his head gently when you looked up at him. “You’re coming with me.”

“I’ll stay within sight,” you argued, pulling your arm from his grip. “I’m not a child, Joel.”

“No, you don’t-”

“I can take care of myself.” Taking a few steps forward into the tree line, you looked for any signs of life, but before you could get far, Joel’s voice was at your ear again. 

“Don’t-”

He yanked you back into him, making you stumble into his chest. Lifting your head up to glare at him, you came nearly nose to nose as he looked down at you and you looked up at him. Your breath stopped, catching in your chest as your eyes scanned his face.

“Tripwire,” he mumbled, his eyes firmly watching your lips as they moved soundlessly in shock.

“Thanks,” you finally managed, closing your mouth and clearing your throat.

Joel nodded.

You went to take a step back, looking over your shoulder towards the trap, but his grip on your upper arm wouldn’t let you move. 

Turning back to look at him in question, your curious expression melted when you found him even closer than before, his eyes cast down as his nose lightly bumped the side of yours.

The distance continued to close, only a breath left between you when a faint scuffle then a thud was heard, making you both pull apart like lightning.

Turning, the two of you saw Will suspended upside down by his ankle from a nearby tree.

“Careful. Tripwire,” you grinned.

Will smirked sardonically, arms coming to cross over his chest after batting away his flannel outer layer that hung in his face since he was inverted - he’d dug out a spare from his bag after using his original to shove into the mouth of the crazy raider. “We found a blood trail.”

The smile fell off your face as your gut sank. “That’s-”

“A good thing,” Will cut you off. “Means she was moving. She was alive.” After a loaded moment of shared looks, he cleared his throat. “Can someone cut me down, please? I’m getting woozy.”

Xxx

You only encountered a few stragglers at the camp, Joel earning some bloody knuckles and you a black eye, but the remaining members of the bandit group lay in lifeless heaps at the feet of your group when it was all said and done. There was no chance for prisoners, they weren’t going to be taken alive. 

Which meant that one idiot back at the camp who’d tried to kill you had to stay alive if you wanted any answers.

The thought of that made you start to hyperventilate. 

Which wasn’t like you.

You took everything in stride, this new world required it, but suddenly you felt his arm around your neck again, and you began to claw at the phantom limb, gasping for air as tears began to stream silently down your face.

You couldn’t look anywhere without seeing a body, violence, bloodshed….

Can’t breathe….

Everything blurred by as you faintly registered your feet moving you forward, a warm hand around your forearm pulling you gently along before the firm press of tree bark met your back with a gentle thump.

The soft trace of rough, callused fingers making their way past your cheeks to rest behind your ears drew a shiver from your bones. “I’ve got you. You’re okay. You’re good. It’s over. I’m here.” Joel’s mumbled words vibrated somewhere in front of you, desperately grasping at you to give you something to hold onto. Cradling your face in his hands, Joel stood toe to toe with you. He took a small step closer and leaned down, pressing his forehead to your own as you fought for air. “Nothing’s gonna get you. I won’t let it.”

The phantom touch of that asshole’s arm around your throat still constricted your airway, threatening to make the world cave in.

Joel reached up to gently grab your hands still frantically clawing at your throat, placing them on either side of his ribcage, and you clutched onto his flannel under his jacket for dear life. The warmth from his body heat radiated into your palms and sent a wave of something down to your toes. Worrying the threadbare fabric between your fingers mindlessly, Joel seemed to notice and step even closer still, enough that a deep enough breath would close the distance. 

Though, as you thought about it, how he still had room to maneuver any further into you was a mystery, you didn’t even know it was possible. It seemed like every part of you was wrapped up in every part of him.

His voice drew your thoughts back to the present. “Hey, hey. Shhhh…. No more. He’s gone.” Did his voice just crack? “It’s over.” His voice grew a little firmer, if not quieter. “It’s over.”

If only he knew, you weren’t struggling to breathe because of the remnants of a panic attack anymore. No, now it was his proximity. His warm breath fanning across your face as he mumbled words of peace. The press of his skin against yours as he cradled your face so gingerly.

Time stopped, the world ceased its spinning, and suddenly all that was left was this right here between the two of you. This quiet moment, in the middle of a forest, painted in violence and hope, in fear and tenacity, in…. Vibrant shades of both of you.

Will walked up around the tree quietly, clearing his throat softly. “Some of these men were dead long before we got here.”

“Jane,” you smiled. 

“That girl sure is a spit fire,” Joel remarked with his own grin, pulling away from you just slightly, but still keeping you in his hold.

Turning to Will, you steeled your shoulders. “Take me to the blood trail.”

Xxx

It took all of ten minutes of tracking to find Jane leaning against a tree with her back to you, heaving breaths as the right side of her shirt was stained crimson. The violent splotch was spreading, whatever wound obviously still angry and weeping under her white shirt, her outer layer long gone and forgotten in the chaos by now. 

“Jane?” You called out softly from several yards back. A twig snapped under foot, causing a flock of birds in the trees above to startle and take flight in a whir of wings and wind.

She whirled around, knife held out in front of her at the ready, eyes wide and wild from the adrenaline. When she realized who it was, relief washed over her features so strongly it brought tears to your eyes. She dropped the blade to the ground with a clatter and slumped the side of her shoulder against the tree with a huff.

“Took you long enough,” she breathed in amusement, turning so her back was to the tree with her head thrown back, her face toward the sky, wincing in pain.

Before you could even make a move towards her, Will was there helping her back to her feet, scooping her up bridal style and carrying her back towards camp, her head on his shoulder as she went limp, finally able to rest.

Will glanced back when no one else moved. “Come on!” He whisper shouted. “She needs help as soon as possible, or I’m going to-” He caught himself. “We’re going to lose her.”

As the group moved in unison behind a speedwalking Will, you glanced up at Joel in amusement. “Do you think he knows?”

Joel shook his head with a grin. “Everyone else does, so no, probably not.”

You chuckled, despite the situation. It was probably the relief that she was alive finally catching up with you. “That girl’s got his number.”

Huffing a laugh, Joel looked at the back of Will’s head as he rapidly disappeared at the front of the group. “Wrapped around her little finger like those little things she uses to protect herself when she sews back at her shop. Oh, what’re they called?”

You stared at him for a long moment before quietly suggesting in hesitation, “Thimbles?”

Joel slapped his thigh before pointing at you with a renewed grin. “That’s the one!”

With a shake of your head, you turned back to face forward and head up toward the front with your friends. “Ellie was right. You’re losing it, old man.”

“Ain’t old,” he grumbled, his face instantly turning sour. “Jus‘ ‘xperienced.”

“Then you should know all the words, Joel.” You smirked. “No excuses.”

“I do know all the words,” he groused. “That’s the problem. I know too much, my brain can’t keep up.”

You turned to face him, walking backwards. “Sure. That’s the problem.”

“I know things,” he shot back, echoing your words from earlier, his head tilted back to look down his nose at you in a mirror image as he continued to mock your earlier statement. “Lots of stuff.”

“Oh, I see,” your tone was condescending, but playful as you mimicked him right back. “Stuff.”

“And things.” He was trying so hard not to smile.

You were not, letting the grin spread broadly across your face. “Oh, we mustn't forget the things….”

“Yeah, okay.” Joel looked to the side to try and hide his amused grin. “Fuck you, darlin’.”

“I mean, if you’re offerin’….”

His head snapped back to look at you in surprise as you threw his words right back at him yet again. Joel opened his mouth to refute, but you cut him off with a grin. 

“I’m going to go make sure he doesn’t promise her his house or something. Boy would give her half of Jackson if he could.”

“He can have your half, you jackass,” Joel grumbled playfully as you turned back to face the front of the group. “Mine ain’t for sale. Don’t care how pretty you are.”

You glanced over your shoulder, fluttering your lashes ridiculously. “You think I’m pretty?”

“I meant her,” Joel gestured to your friends with his rifle still loosely gripped in his hands, strap slung over his shoulders, at the ready just in case, like always. “Ain’t nothin’ pretty ‘bout what you just said.”

“I only spoke the truth.”

“You’re only makin’ it worse.”

Xxx

The sun was setting by the time Joel was able to pry you away from Jane. You hadn’t wanted to leave her side as Will took it upon himself to treat and dress her wound. 

You held her hand as she grunted in pain while he disinfected the area with a bottle of alcohol someone had brought, then stitched it up. Luckily the blade had missed anything vital, and hadn’t been rusty, thank goodness.

So far this whole trip had been getting by by the skin of your teeth, and that didn’t bode well with you. 

Once she fell asleep, Joel coaxed you over to a clearing not too far away for a breath. A bucket full of water from the nearby stream had been brought to wash the blood off your hands.

Staring down at the water as it turned pink under your touch, tinged with the blood of your friend, you looked up when a shadow crossed over the little bit of sunlight left in the day.

Joel stood just in front of the dying light, backlit and a silhouette as he extended a…. rock? to you.

“That creek is fed from the mountains. Snow melt. Coldest thing around. Best alternative to ice we’ve got right now.” You narrowed your brows at him, making him sigh in frustration. “For your eye,” he said as if it were obvious. 

“Oh,” you said dumbly and took it, lightly resting it against your left eyebrow where you felt the worst of the black eye forming. The cool, smooth stone instantly offered some relief for an ache you hadn’t even realized you had, making you groan softly, and shut your eyes with a grateful sigh. “Thank you.”

He nodded. “Mmm-hmm.” The side of his mouth twitched up as he lowered himself to the ground beside you with a quiet groan. “T’ain’t nothin’.”

Pulling the stone away to examine it for a moment, you arched a brow when Joel slowly pressed it back to your head. “Don’t work if you don’t keep it there, darlin’.”

“Really?” You said as sarcastically as you could muster.

“Huh-uh,” he confirmed with a gentle shake of his head, keeping the stone pressed firmly to your skin. “It’s not a comfort by osmosis thing.”

“No healing by proxy?” You groused, despite the smile working its way up your face, your one good eye squinting from the held back laughter you were just managing to reign in as you looked up at him.

The corner of his mouth lifted so high a dimple creased his cheek. “Now wouldn’t that be somethin’,” he mused softly. 

The two of you sat in comfortable quiet for a long moment, his hand still holding the rock to your head gently until you finally decided it was time to break the silence.

“So what’s the plan from here, Mr. partially-in-charge-of-security?”

Joel’s hand fell from you with a sigh as he shook his head slightly in disbelief, his gaze turned forward as if he couldn’t even bear to look at you after an attempt at a joke that bad. “I’ve been goin’ over it in my head since we left their camp-”

“That must’ve been painful,” you muttered, grinning innocently when he cut his eyes over to you.

They shut briefly with another loaded sigh before they fluttered open and he turned to look at the forest on his right while he continued. “Best I can come up with-” he held a finger up in front of your face without a glance back your way. “I don’t wanna hear it.”

You stared at his finger inches from your nose. “I wasn’t-” You totally were. 

The finger began to wag as his head rolled back to level you with a look. “Now, we both know that’s a lie, darlin’.” You shrank under his continued stare and he went on. “Best I can think of is to send the majority back home since we’re still so close to Jackson. Have them protect Jane and those two raiders we got to interrogate.” His arms were propped up on his bent knees, and his fist clenched at the mention of the thugs.

After he stared off vacantly for a moment, he brought his gaze back onto you. “That means the cart is going to have to go back with them, though. Jane’s in no condition to walk, and you did a number on asshole number one.” He chuckled. 

“Don’t even worry about the cart,” you waved him off. “Jane is more important. What about asshole number two?” Rubbing your throat absently with the hand not holding the rock to your head, you stared into the trees straight ahead before you realized what you were doing and lowered your hand, turning your gaze back to Joel. “He can still walk just fine.” You tilted your head in thought for a moment. “May be a little bit more of a waddle, but….”

Joel chuckled darkly, hanging his head as his shoulders shook with the laughter. Finally he looked up at you through his lashes, a conniving expression twinkling in his eyes. “Let the little ugly duckling waddle back, then.”

“How will we be sure he doesn’t waddle off?”

“I’ve been known to tie a knot or two in my day.”

As the novelty of the whole situation wore off, you turned to face Joel a bit more fully, letting the hand that held the rock fall from its spot against your face to rest in your lap, ignoring Joel’s scowl in protest. 

“You said most of the group. Joel, we should all go back. Safety in numbers. Making sure everyone is safe is more important than my paint-” 

“Safety in numbers. Exactly. That’s why most’f’em are goin’ back. We only need a few t’do this run. It also made us a target bein’ such a big group. The council made a shit decision ‘bout that. There’s a reason patrols’re only two people.” He looked out at the woods again. “It was temptin’ to leave it just the two’f us as originally planned, but, after yesterday, even you could see the perks’f havin’ a few extra people should somethin’ happen.”

“Quality not quantity.”

Joel bobbed his head, his eyes shining proudly as you understood. “‘xactly.”

Something wasn’t sitting right. “But what about the threats, Joel? They said somethin’ about Jackson was gonna burn….”

“People say all kinds o’shit when you’ve got a pocket knife in one hand n’your knee pinnin’ their crotch to the dirt.”

You let out a snort, unable to contain your laughter at his blunt explanation. “Can’t say you’re wrong there.”

Joel leaned back with a contented sigh, propping his arm up on his bent leg. “I’m never wrong.”

You let out another snort of laughter, more bubbling up and out when he shot you a glare. 

Xxx

That night, just as the sun began to set, Joel slammed the back tailgate of the cart shut after helping Jane up into it.

“You good?” He asked quietly, his voice soft and kind.

“I’ll be fine. Thank you, Joel.” Jane reached out a hand to rest on his shoulder. 

“Not worried ‘bout you, sweetheart,” he mumbled, his eyes darting over to the wounded raider sitting as far from him as he could get in the front corner of the cart. The bandit cowered under his stare but stayed silent. “Was more worried ‘bout him.” Joel looked at Jane pointedly as he explained, his head tilted forward while he looked at her through his lashes and arched brows.

“Like I said,” Jane spoke firmly, her voice low and even as she turned to look at the asshole, making him cower even further. “I’ll be fine.”

“Whaddabout me?” The second bandit who had tried to choke you said loudly and amusedly from where he stood behind the cart a few feet away from Joel, his hands bound by one end of rope and the other end tied to the back of the cart. “Do I get a send off from tall, dark and brooding?”

Joel turned to him without even fully looking at the man, cocking his rifle as he spoke on a tired sigh. “That can be arranged.”

The raider guffawed as he stumbled back a few steps, Joel striding forward the ground he lost, while you stepped in between, hands extended.

“Stop. There’s no time for this.” Turning to face Joel, you lowered your arms. “Joel, let the little shit leave.”

The raider’s voice rose behind you like a forgotten tendril of smoke, thin and pungent, just enough to remind you it was there. “Ain’t nothin’ little ‘bout me, darlin’.”

Without a second thought, you whirled around and clocked the thug in the eye, making him stumble back further, the rope stretching to its limit and yanking him forward to his knees.

“Except your brain, apparently.” You shook out your hand to your side, the impact from the punch leaving a searing sting across your knuckles. “You don’t get to call me that.”

“What do I get to call you then?” The man sneered, bringing his bound hands up to swipe at his face.

You took a step closer, smirking, and enjoyed how the amused sparkle in his eyes faltered slightly at the sight. “Whatever you say when you’re begging for your life, tough guy.”

The man swallowed nervously, despite his narrowed eyes of contempt. “I don’t beg for anything. From anyone. ‘specially not you.”

You let your eyes travel up and down the length of him slowly in an unnerving appraisal. “We’ll just see about that. Won’t we, Joel?”

“Lookin’ forward t’hearin’ just how loudly he won’t beg….” Joel mused behind you.

“Fuck. You,” the man hissed.

“No. Thanks,” you sneered back.

Will pulled your attention away as he stepped up on the wheel of the cart to lean in beside Jane, his weight making the whole thing squeak under the pressure. “Are you sure you don’t need me to come with you to keep this asshole in line?” He jerked his head toward the guy tethered at the back.

Jane smiled and patted Will’s cheek lightly. “I think I’ll be just fine. Like I told Joel.” Her eyes flicked between the two of them. Her voice sickly sweet. “Now if you two don’t stop coddling me, one of you is going to be injured and sitting beside me on this trip back to Jackson. So shut,” she looked at Will, “your,” Joel, “piehole.” She looked at you.

You raised your hands in surrender. “Me? “ They turned out in question. “What did I do?!”

She shrugged, her head tilting just slightly. “It was preemptive.” Leaning towards Will again, she kissed him on the cheek, smiling when he began to sputter and turn six shades of red. “Stay with Joel. He needs you here more than he’ll admit.”

“I heard that,” Joel grumbled, walking past the end of the cart as he began to check in with the rest of the group.

“Good. You were meant to,” Jane grinned, lurching slightly as the cart began to move forward, Will jumping from the wheel before it could turn fully.

As the bandit walked past Will, he turned to him with a sadistic grin. “Don’t I get a goodbye kiss, handsome?”

“Sure,” Will said with a disarming smile, making the other man stumble for a moment. The next he was stumbling further after Will sucker punched him in the mouth. “How was that? Was it good for you, too?”

The raider in the cart was looking on wide eyed, but you caught him grinning slightly at the exchange, looking away quickly to try and hide it when Will glanced his way.

Jane was laughing as the cart began to disappear into the sunset. Her head thrown back, eyes closed, hand over her stomach type laughter. “Don’t make me laugh! It hurts!”

Will gave a dopey grin as he watched them disappear into the dying light, Jane and the bandit tied to the back of the cart bickering back and forth about nonsense that you couldn’t quite make out at this distance, but you could tell she wasn’t taking any shit.

“She’ll be okay.” You walked up to Will, putting a hand on his shoulder.

“Yeah, I know.” He was distant, his mind a million miles off. “I know.”

Xxx

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[rainybyday]

Danny being able to follow the descendants of Jazz or Sam/Tucker is a common idea, but I’ll do you a new one

He follows all the descendants of every Amity Park, but with a bit of twist

With a mix of Danny being an Immortal au along with everyone being contaminated by ectoplasm au here is my thoughts

Danny is going to look after everyone in Amity and their descendants and bring them all personally to the afterlife comfortably (since it seems that anyone contaminated with ectoplasm would go to the ghost zone (my idea my rules)). He would spend years upon years watching and guarding them, however, there is a slightly variable he didn’t think about until he saw Tucker’s children. 

Because ectoplasm is like a radiation of sorts, it gets genetically mutated and encoded into their very dna. If someone, let's say Jazz, was to have a child then that genetic mutation will also be passed down to her children and their children and everyone down her line will have this mutation as well. 

So that means that everyone in Amity Park will have a mutation that would let them be Limitals in different degrees. The stronger bloodlines would be people like Jazz, Sam, and Tucker but others, like Wes and Valerie would also have strong ectoplasm lines as well with how closely they gotten near ghost and contaminated areas. 

Depending how contaminated the original carrier of the mutation was, the mutation can either grow stronger or weaker or do nothing at all as it gets passed down. Most people with small mutations of ectoplasm have slightly better senses or a change of their physical strength, such as being slightly faster or slightly stronger, which can be played off as being either born talented or genetics. 

It was those that came from direct stronger mutations that are hard to cover at times. Their changes are very visible. Sure, theirs the small stuff like enchanted senses and maybe green eye colors being a common trait but there's also big changes. Some have high IQ’s that get written down as geniuses, some have naturally strong bodies that could win Olympic gold, and some even have natural ghost vision and become psychopomps! 

So you see, while Danny is watching over the mass majority of the growing Limital population he has to deal with the, er, the troublesome line of descendants that decided to screw with Danny by being gifted these gifts.

Those years of making sure no nosy reporter or government official coming to harm them for the umpteenth time is driving Danny crazy. Thier many great grandparents always find it funny and slightly amusing to see Danny getting overwork by their many great grandchildren and it's driving him up the wall. 

Now you are probably asking “how is this a dc x dp idea?”

well, my good friend looks no further

Because this is where Danny will probably get bald from stress. 

Hypothetically if I were to say, oh I don’t know, if Barry Allen was a descendant of Wes, then let's say that the lighting that struck him was supposed to kill him. 

It was because of the mutation that Barry was able to survive, but at the same time, the electricity from the lighting was also able to reactivate the mutation in Barry’s genes which gave him his unnatural speed. 

But because Berry is Wes’s descendants and being one of the stronger bloodline carriers Danny was also able to feel Barry’s heart being structed and left to see what happen to him. Which now turns out to be a mistake because now he has to look out for a superhero of all things!

Now, you are probably wondering if it stops there. 

No, no it didn’t. 

Turns out Bruce Wayne is part of Sam’s bloodline with Dinah Lance being a part of Jazz’s bloodline, and Cyborgs being a part of Tucker’s bloodline!

And somehow, SOMEHOW, Valerie’s great grandson was adopted by Sam’s descendant! 

And then the normally very quiet and very small, mutated bloodlines came in and ruined him ever further.  

Don’t get him started with Dash’s descendant - John Constatine. 

Why, just why.

But at least it’s better than Paulina’s descendants. Who looks at a homeless child and said that they can inherited the powers of gods and magic and ghost them like that! God damn Wizard! Why did you do that to Billy!!! 

(Danny’s screams of frustrations could be heard for miles.)

+Danny can feel even the smallest of ectoplasm so that was why he was able to find every descendant and so forth. 

+Being a descendant doesn’t mean you will look or act exactly like their great grandparents, so Danny likes to complain at times to the great grandparents because they weren’t like their grandchildren or how their grandchildren aren’t like them. 

+Some bloodlines did get mix during those years, such as Jazz’s and Valerie’s bloodlines and Dash’s and Tucker’s so their mutation will grow stronger if connected to a stronger bloodline. Sometimes those bloodlines also split so could be three main families for some people, like Wes’s descendants.

more at this link

[btsbabe7]

November Prompt 28: Moonlight

Words: 1.7k | Pairing: Remus Lupin x reader

Most nights, when the chaos of the others had become too much, you’d sneak out for walks. The only places you could manage without being caught were The Great Hall, the common room or the library, and most were empty at night anyways.

Tonight was different, usually you’d sneak out alone in the graces of James’ invisibly cloak; however, you never expected to cross a lounging Remus on the way out. Well, you had no intentions of actively crossing him, but you’re sure you’d bumped something that grabbed his attention tonight, or he simply knew of your secret routine.

“Sneaking out again, are we?”

“I just want to see the world… or the castle at least,” you whine sarcastically.

He closes a Defense Against the Dark Arts book that has been nudged between his fingers for days now. You can even see the indents between his fingers where the weighted book cover and pages had lain for much too long.

“I’ll join you. And no time for protesting,” he sighs. “I get enough of that from Sirius and James, even Peter now.”

“If you insist,” you whisper and pull the cloak back just enough to let your curls out. They’re still damp from your shower and removing your plaits, but they always dried faster the more you wandered throughout the castle. “But Remus, I must warn you that the library can be very boring at night, even for people like us.”

He takes a step closer, tucking his book somewhere on the mantle behind you with a smile.

“Then we shall explore the grounds tonight. Outside.”

You smirk to hide the joyous feelings bursting inside of you. Finally a real adventure and not alone. And going out with Remus would be of no harm since you always find yourself around him, courtesy of your older brother, James.

It doesn’t take long for you to realize that Remus is waiting for you to lead the way. Under the veil of the cloak, you both wander out of the common room and down into the long, dark corridors. No one can see you under the cloak, shoulder to shoulder with him. No one can see a map in Remus’ hand that opened at his touch just before the both of you mindlessly rushed towards a hidden passageway leading out of the castle, just near the greenhouses, for a lick of freedom.

The moment the late autumn wind sweeps over you, both warm and cool, you feel a sense of relief. Enough to bring the cloak just onto the shoulders of you and Remus.

In the distance, there are twinkling lights and bright stars in the sky. There’s the sound of whatever leaves are left on the trees being plucked by the wind, swept up and crashing onto the ground with their former friends. A vicious cycle.

You can see the darkened clouds splotched near the moon. And with the clouds, you only spot no more than a sliver of the moon, but you wouldn’t dare journey out if it were full. And in the distance, you can make out the outline of the Whomping Willow, a ghastly and dangerous plant that should certainly be nowhere near students.

“We can’t possibly be going there.”

“We are. It’s safe, I promise,” Remus assures, giving you a firm glance to accompany his words.

And you trust him, you always have.

As you two approach the tree, there’s a stillness in the air that lasts for only a moment before the branches stretch out towards the moon in a whipping snap. Within a second, Remus readies his wand, firmly casts Immobulus, and the stir of violent branches instantly freeze into place.

“Come on,” he chuckles, quite amused by your awe in the simplest of things. He grabs your hand and follows you into the crawl space underneath the tree.

There isn’t much light until he casts Lumos and with that, you know it’s safe here.

“Where are we going exactly?” You inquire as you follow him through the tunnel.

“The Shrieking Shack.”

“Rumors say that place is haunted.”

He stops short, turning to you in the light of his wand and the walls of the tunnel. You take in his scars, once violently slashed across his face, but very faint now. They were something you knew him to be insecure about, but you never minded. And up close, you can see the way his skin has fused with them, how they’ve permanently become a part of him. You reach up to caress his cheek, just to touch him, and he doesn’t even flinch. There’s actually a softness that quickly overcomes him when he gazes down at you and you, up at him. You’ve been close to Remus, but never close enough to smell the sweetness of chocolate that lingers on his breath and surely not close enough for his lips to part above yours. Your eyes begin to flutter closed in comfort, but the coolness of his smirk widens them back.

“We should get going. It’s cold down here, we should get you warmed up.”

You want to grab the collar of his hoodie that he’s been wearing long before you found him perched on the couch in the common room. There’s no way he didn’t feel the electricity between the two of you, but a rumbling above the ground snatches your thoughts and you return to reality.

“It’s just a storm rolling in,” he states.

You hadn’t noticed that after the encounter, his hand had found yours, partially in your hand and partially on your wrist. Maybe he detected a spike in your pulse at the sudden noise or he really knows you more than he lets on.

At the clearing of the tunnel, you and Remus climb through a hinged door, then through the doors of the old abandoned house. Tattered wallpaper has been peeling off the walls for decades, revealing weathered wooden slats within the walls. There’s an old mattress on the holey floorboards, but newer blankets, sheets and pillows on top of it. Glass from an old window hardly glistens in the distance, covered in dirt and dust. The window itself has been patched up with boards and rusty nails older than your own existence. And the dusty floors have scars long and deep carved into the wood.

“I’ve been coming here a lot. I’m sure James has mentioned it,” he says bluntly, voice fading somewhere in the background.

“I didn’t want to believe it… that you have to manage something so painful all alone.”

The floor squeaks against the weight of his thin frame and he comes back with handfuls of chocolates.

“My secret stash. Have to keep it in a trunk to keep the creatures out. Though, I don’t see them much now that I’ve been here and decorated the place.”

You smile, biting back a small giggle.

He steps closer, in front of you now. His eyes are full and attentive.

“Close your eyes, alright? I want you to try something.” You hear the rustling of a wrapper the moment you close your eyes for him. “And open your mouth,” he adds sweetly.

And you do.

You hum softly, mouth watering at the sudden taste of perfect bitterness and sweetness. The sweetness melts against the warmth of your tongue, some sort of chocolate you don’t recognize from Honeydukes or the trolley on rides home for breaks. Without realizing it, you’re backing towards the mattress in the corner next to the fireplace. Remus had lit it at some point and only your nose recognized the pinch of burning firewood.

“Don’t open just yet,” he whispers, voice echoing through your ear canal like a rubber ball in a young muggle’s hands, like pure bliss.

His hands gliding over your shoulder blades are enough to make you want to steal a peak at him, but you fight your instincts. You allow yourself to feel the goosebumps pricking against your chilled skin from the trace of the pads of his fingertips. Though, with his breath this hot on your neck, you’re nowhere near freezing.

“Remus,” you moan. He only hums in return. After all, what can he say when you’re already falling apart under his grasp. “Kiss me…”

There’s a moment of silence. A moment when his touch melts into your skin underneath your chin and he gently tilts your head back. Nothing comes until you open your eyes. You’ve never seen a man so perfect. You can see it in his heavy, yearning eyes, all the ways you can have him in your grasp.

Nearly any time passes before he delves into you, planting a heavy, openmouthed kiss against your lips, tasting the sweet aftertaste of chocolate on your tongue. You toss the cloak down, your robe, wand and short set pajamas follow until you’re standing half naked in front of the man you snuck out with. Remus can’t process it, can’t help but lie you down on the old mattress he’s slept on alone almost a month ago and many months before.

In the coolness of the room, you feel nothing but warmth with Remus’ hands and lips on you. Your moans faltering under the soft crackling of the fire and his own chuckling.

When he returns to you, he’s still in complete awe, stroking your cheek softly and playing with strands of your hair as you stare up at him. And when you finally allow your gaze to wander past him, just through a sliver in the ceiling and beyond the storm, you can see a waxing gibbous in the night sky so vividly. You stare at the moon, taking in the small dark spots visible from Earth’s view. You know that in just a few days, you’ll be seeing this view from inside the safety of the castle. You pull Remus closer in your arms, mindlessly stroking his hair at the thought of you sneaking out to the library or Great Hall while he lied here alone waiting for the moon the fade out and overtake him.

“Remus,” you yawn.

“Mhm.”

“Just promise me that once you’re back, we’ll take another walk under the moon.”

He sits up onto his elbow and brings your gaze back towards him.

“I promise,” he replies and pulls you into a tender kiss under the moonlight.

Please be sure to check out my other latest fics:

⚡︎ November Prompt Challenge (days 1-30)

⚡︎ For You Always - reader x Snape

~ Navi: masterlist (all fandoms) & (bts imagines/drabbles)

Disclaimer: This is a pure work of fiction, but please don’t copy! Written purely for fun :) Please only repost to other socials w/my permission and credit! Reblogging w/credit is fine. Thank you! ♡

[writerlyhabits]

Aliit ori’shya tal'din

Pairing: Din Djarin x female reader

Word Count: 2.7k

Summary: Your second day in the covert reveals both new and familiar faces; hospitality and hostility.

Chapter 3 of the Shereshoy series | Masterlist | Ch. 2 | Ch. 4

Warnings: lots of Mando’a, mild language, soft Din, awkward Din, protective Din [he’s got a wide range, okay?], original Mandalorian characters… maybe a little bit of angst? It’s mostly worldbuilding, so I think that’s about it. 

AN: A word from the author – “I’m in grad school, I take forever to write things.Soon I will start grad school again, which means I’ll write this instead of my dissertation. I’m quite fond of the Mando Legends Lore, if you haven’t noticed. I literally got Kad Ha’rangir & Arasuum tattooed on me.”

This is the third part of a sister fic for my one-shot (Courting) a friend of mine wrote based on this request, and I’m so happy she’s letting me share it with you guys! She is also sharing it on AO3, so be sure to send her your love and kudos there as well! We hope you enjoy 💛

Translations, in order of appearance:

Aliit ori’shya tal'din: Family is more than blood

Rejorhaa'i kaysh murcyur gar shupur’ika?:  Are you gonna tell her to kiss your ouchies?

Cuyi ulyc, vod.: Be careful, sister.

Aliit: family

Ad(e): child/children

Kar’ta beskar: the central "diamond" of Mandalorian armor; lit. heart armor

Mirjahaal: peace of mind, "healing", general term for emotional well-being especially after a trauma or bereavement

Beroya: bounty hunter

Kurshi: tree

Sen’tra: jackpack

Buir(e): Parent/Parents

Akaanati'kar'oya: The War of Life and Death (Mandalorian myth), creation story

Verd'goten: a special trial for one to become warrior; lit. birth of warrior

So'haale: births

Urman'gedete: prayers

Eparave: feasts

Cyarir evaar'la: Courting

Alii'aliit: meeting of the clans, the closest thing mandalorians have to government or parliament; lit. "clan of clans"

Tsad: group (of people), alliance

Bes'ede: Mythosaur

Kandush : inevitable doom

Time moves differently underground.

With Odona, the hours passed quickly. As a team, you could disassemble and reconstruct nearly any ship in their small fleet, save for a few parts— which no one had yet found and delivered. The days were faster when the guardsman opted to join you in his free time, his first visit and subsequent dialogue with Odona still memorable.

To what do I owe the displeasure; Oh Mighty Protector of the Covert and Savior of Foundlings?

The pleasure of my company is for your friend, ‘Dona.

Why? Going to terrorize her again, Ik’? Ven’rejorhaa'i kaysh murcyur gar shupur’ika?

Cuyi ulyc, vod.

You had sensed there was a joke hidden within their jibes, one you were unable to decipher in their foreign tongue, but neither took the time to explain. Whilst Ikarus lacked use for the labor that required fine motor control, his presence disrupted the monotony of the many tedious and repetitive tasks you and Odona spent much of your time doing— their frequent banter kept you entertained throughout the day. 

The time you had spent in the medbay was shorter— the most common injuries coming from the older adolescents early on in their training, whose resilience and constitution had yet to strengthen— as well as wrist and ankle sprains from poor fighting forms, the occasional laceration from knife safety training; and at worst, injuries from the teens and young adults earned from a vigorous sparring session.

But with Din, the mornings and evenings together never felt long enough. The hours were reminiscent of your time with him and the Child in the Crest, the warmth of your aliit protected by familiar cold walls; the stone of the cavern both analogous yet antithetic to the durasteel of your former home. 

One forged of hands, and the other of time— one of the fires of a furnace, the other the fires of a planet’s mantle. Your time together before was that of contrivance, engineered— with agendas to follow and assignments to complete— your interactions affable yet somewhat artificial, a present barrier precluding your companionship from evolving into something more… More natural, more innate, more intimate. Here, your time together had been more candid, endearing— Din no longer shied away from any probing questions or physical closeness, which allowed that previous barrier to melt and slowly flow away like that of bedrock to magma, reshaping and remolding your times of leisure together to hours of unified repose.

The hours turned to days, the days turned to weeks, and the weeks turn to this moment, where seemingly no time passes at all— blanketed in the familiar darkness of your room. The unlit and chilled space, at first an unacquainted oddity, now a comfortable companion to spend the sleeping and waking hours in. The ritual remains the same— awaken with the Child, have the morning trade-off with Din, make the caf, and begin the tasks for the day— like clock work, a well-oiled droid.

This morning is almost no different, and yet, you hesitate to leave your bed, your conversation with Din the previous morning still fresh in your mind— 

Din had sat aside the table, his body resting against the wall— unarmored, arms crossed, head tilted to the side, the same position as every morning. Once you handed him the Child and sat, caf in hand, he finally spoke.

“I’d like you to join me tomorrow,” he stated. 

The lack of pleasantries from him was unsurprising, though a teasing ‘Good morning to you, Din’ was a tempting response. Instead, you greeted him with a grin and an unobjectionable reply— 

“Alright, what are we doing?” 

He hummed, pleased with your immediate acceptance.

“The adults alternate supervising the ade. Tomorrow, it’ll be our turn.”

You gestured toward the Child in his arms, in a playful retort. “Don’t we supervise this ad every day?”

The Child cooed in his arms, his ears perked tentatively at his mention. Din sighed, with a smile in voice.

“We do. It’s tradition for all of the adults to care for the ade… All have wisdom to share.”

Skeptical, you thought: ‘What would I possibly teach them?’

You observed the Child resting so comfortably on Din’s chest— his tiny hand gripped tightly into Din’s clothes, right where his armor’s kar’ta beskar normally sat. It was a stark contrast compared to the Child’s behavior upon your first meeting. With any loud noises and sudden movements, he would shrink inwards in his cradle— as if he could make himself any smaller. Medical scanners made him grimace, unfamiliar places and people made his ears droop— seeing others upset made him wary. And yet, he was endlessly curious. Despite his initial unease with the two new adults in his life, the Child was quick to trust you both— and with his trust, his personality came through… his affection, his laughter, his love. 

From there, Din learned how to tend to someone outside of himself— what it meant to have someone that relied on him, and more colossally, someone that wanted Din, as he was. The Armorer branded him as the Child’s father, and the delighted squeal from the little one sealed the bond that Din had been trying to hide for so long. Just as the Child learned to trust Din with his welfare, so too did Din learn to trust the Child with his own mirjahaal.  

Perhaps it wasn’t the lessons they taught, but rather the connection they made, and the wisdom they sought.

With this, the true question then inverted from the skeptic ‘what would I teach them’, to the sanguine ‘what will I learn?’...

“...When do we meet them?”

—

To the ade, the former beroya is nothing more than a tall kurshi fit to climb. 

Somehow, Din appears endlessly patient and playful with all six of the young children. They utilize their limitless spurts of energy to continuously attack Din as a squad, bringing him to the ground— he’ll exclaim a faux wail, and collapse to his knees— and the collective giggles of the ade begin the cycle again. 

Whenever a child grows tired of their battle, they come to you— wanting to be tossed into the air, or onto the nearest surface. Supposedly being gently thrown around aids in their brain development, and ‘it’s good practice for their first sen’tra flight’, Din tells you. The logic is questionable at best, but hearing their joyous squeals makes the ever-growing muscle fatigue worthwhile. Even the child of the Djarin clan is as equally amused, his own little spirit mightily lifted by the experience of being with other kids again. 

During your time on Sorgan, the Child was happy to interact with the other children— but mostly, he watched them, rather than play. Perhaps he was still too shy or too wary to fully engage with so many people, but surrounded by these Foundlings now, he looks at home; like he belongs. Amidst this cohort, he’s made a new friend, Mara, the youngest of the lot. Her long and dark hair reminds you— and perhaps the Child— of Winta, Omera’s daughter. The two spent the most time together on Sorgan, and despite the little one’s inability to say, he misses her. 

Mara and the Child sit away from the squad play-fighting Din, in front of the single wall of volcanic tuff— embellished with crimps and pockets, graven by many hands. You watch them, as they examine the wall, looking up and down, side to side. Your eyes travel upward to the small cavate, almost eight feet from the floor. You watch as Mara looks to the Child and nods, and begins her ascent up— using her fingers and toes to grip tightly onto the various crevices in the wall— and the Child begins to follow.

You step forward, almost instinctively, wanting to call out to them to stop, wanting to reach out to the children to prevent a fall—

Then, from nowhere, Din appears at your side, extending his hand to stop you. “Don’t,” he says softly, “Let them try.”

You look at him puzzled, and he continues. “If you distract them now, they might fall…” he pauses, and turns his head to watch them, “...but if you allow them to focus, they can succeed. Watch…” 

The pair silently step closer, closing the distance between themselves and the wall, watching the two ade slowly make their way up to the cavate. Mara climbs inside first, and lays on her belly, reaching out to the Child to help him trek the final span of the wall. Once inside, the Child turns around, to face the entire room below him. He squeals a little clamor of excitement, proud of his triumph, before looking down to his buire.

“Good job, kid,” Din says. “Come on down, it’s time to go.”

The Child looks at you both doe-eyed, his ears drooping, as he peers over the ledge. He looks back to Mara, and back down over the ledge, contemplating his next move. 

You lean slightly towards Din, speaking in a hushed tone. “I don’t think he knows how to get back down.”

“He can do it,” Din says confidently. 

You challenge him, “He looks scared.” 

Din insists, “Then he’ll do it scared.” 

He steps forward once more, his body almost pressed against the wall, reaching one hand up. “Come on kid, climb down.”

The child’s ears droop even lower, letting out a quiet whimper, a little anxious look on his face. He looks back up to Mara, who gives him an encouraging “You can do it,” before he finally begins his descent towards you and Din. 

Carefully, his little clawed feet grip into the same pockets he used to climb up, and his hands hold onto the ledge. He looks down at his buire with a slightly quivering lip, then back up to his hands. Slowly, he presses on, his movements deliberate and cautious, gravity tugging at his little limbs with relentless persuasion, clammy clawed-hands threatening to slip free from the cold stone. His disgruntled babbling fading with each tentative step, footfalls growing more steady with every downward stride. 

His little foot finally reached something soft— the hand of his buir, waiting for his arrival. With an excited squeal, he looks to Din, holding out his clawed fingers for Din to grasp. Din takes the Child into his arms.

“Good job… I knew you could do it.” Din whispers to him.

With his ad in hand, Din looks back to the cavate, where Mara sits silently. “You too, Mara, come down,” he says. 

Mara, unlike the little one, is less graceful, only climbing down two feet of wall before leaping off. You instinctively reach your arms out to catch her, but are a few seconds too late, as she lands confidently on her feet, smiling up at you. She giggles, asking the Child “Wasn’t that fun!” and the little one cooing affectionately with a bright smile.

“They need to rest.” Din says, before leading Mara and the Child back with the other ade. You follow him in toe, and aid him while he attempts to settle the children in preparation for them to sleep. 

The chamber is bathed in the soft, warm light of the cressets along the walls. The ade sit and lay in a circle on the floor, looking up at the two adults expectedly, waiting for you both to join them. Din gently places the Child in Mara’s lap, seating himself amongst them. 

The ade demanded a story before they would agree to their midday nap, and with only one long sigh, Din relented. As you sit beside him, the tale of Akaanati'kar'oya begins.

—

In ages past, when cosmic realms were naught,

Two gods emerged, each with a purpose sought.

Kad Ha'rangir, embodiment of change,

A dance of growth, His essence did arrange.

Arasuum, the god of slow decay,

In stillness thrived, where life would fade away.

Eternal foes, in battle they engaged,

Ideals clashed, the cosmic script was paged.

Kad Ha'rangir, with eyes of vibrant light,

Envisioned galaxies in endless flight.

His very step, a ripple through the void,

Transforming all, where life and change enjoyed.

Arasuum, with eyes as deep as night,

Desired a realm where stasis held its might.

Decay His touch, a silent, withering breath,

A universe in stillness, touched by death.

In ceaseless clash, their cosmic struggle roared,

A dance of gods, where destinies were stored.

Stoic truths emerged from this grand design,

A tale of action, life's breath so divine.

"For action is the breath that life bestows,

A vital force, as mighty river flows.

Inaction, slow demise, a creeping shade,

A silent death in stillness' dark cascade."

Through galaxies and time, the story spread,

Of Kad Ha'rangir, where change was bred.

Arasuum's touch, a cautionary tale,

A realm in stillness, where all things frail.

So heed the moral, in verses spun,

That action is life, beneath the sun.

For inaction's grasp, a silent breath,

A slow demise, an encroaching death.

—

The ade rest together in a haphazard heap of limbs on various bedcovers and furs draped across the floor. Exhausted from their Beroya Battles and abseil adventures, they finally sleep, leaving the two adults to quietly watch over them together. In the chamber’s silent embrace, the air hangs heavy and chilled— a symphony of stillness envelops the room, broken by the muted shuffle of shifting bodies, and the hushed breaths of the ade. The only audible rhythm is that of the pulsating cadence of your own heartbeat and the rush of blood moving inside your head. 

Your eyes scan over the ade, finding a sense of calmness watching their steady breaths, in… out. 

In… out.

In… out.

Your gaze once again falls onto the Child, cuddled against Mara, also breathing steadily. In the gentle cradle of his friend’s arms, he looks peaceful. Had he ever slept this soundly on the Crest?... Who held him every night before us? Who will take care of him after us?

In the softest whisper, to not disturb the ade, you lean closer to Din, telling him the obvious— “He’s happy here.”

“...Yes,” Din replies, just as quietly. 

“Was this your experience, too? After the Mandalorians saved you?”

“No.”

His visor is trained on the little one’s sleeping face—the same face of a child who was once trapped in the suffocating darkness of a sealed cradle—a cage, a cage whose opening only revealed another prison, in the form of two bounty hunters hovering over him like… a B2 Battle Droid, with a blaster pointed in a child’s face. A child rescued from death at the last possible moment by a shiny warden, offering an adiaphorous detainment. 

“It was… a time of war. I was trained to fight in it. I hope… that they never have to.” Din says, his gaze scanning over the ade once more. 

“I thought all Mandalorians were warriors.”

He, too, believed the same notion for many years. Training from the day he was rescued to the day he became an adult, after his verd'goten, life became a perpetual streak of jobs. Commission, retrieval, payment. Commission, retrieval, payment… Until a strange, golden, aureate armorsmith joined his tribe, bringing tales of the “Great Forge of Mandalore,” and the songs of the artificers that echoed through the speos as they worked. He remembers the first time he kneeled in front of her small, austere forge, in a dark room beneath a busy market above, listening as she spoke of the ethos, the rites, the latria, the true way of the Mandalore. 

“No. Everyone is trained to survive. But… we used to live, too.” 

“...Until Mandalore was taken.”

“Yes.”

So'haale, urman'gedete, eparave, cyarir evaar'la, alii'aliit… A cultus he could only dream of, but never truly have. Spoken knowledge fades into whispers, slipping through his fingers like sand as the voices of the ancestors grow ever fainter. Each decampment a dissolution of tsad res publica, each step forward a battle against oblivion. 

“I’m sorry.” You lean over, resting your head on his pauldron. “...Maybe there’ll come a time when we’ll live in the light, on a planet that welcomes us.” 

Din knows that within every Mandalorian is a patchwork of unfamiliar faces and ever-changing landscapes, their solace and safety as elusive as a bes'ede itself—and yet they endlessly repugn the kandush they have faced time and time again, guided by the conviction that within the uncertainty of the cosmos lay the promise of a sanctuary forged from the resilience of their spirit. 

He tilts his head, resting it atop yours. “There will.”

Ali'nare vencuyanir yaim. This is the Way.   

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[hcdragonwrites]

Cozy (a @jttw-monkeybusiness Drabble )

So I made another one- this one was inspired by this ask (I suck at Hyperlinks I’m so sorry)

It rolled a bit in my brain and kept begging to be fleshed out, so I decided to give it life ! Enjoy!

Snow

Snow fell in white flurries, chasing away the blossoms and birds that had been sitting in the trees just moments before. The storm was in a full frenzy now, peeling petals from overeager trees who had budded too soon, and throwing the birds from the sky. The wind whipped up the cold powder to spray back in the face of the pilgrims as they continued on their journey. They had left the warm subtropical forest only hours ago, where Sophie had rolled her sleeves up to relieve some of the excess heat. Now however, she was shivering.

None of the group, save for Wukong, was truly equipped for the snow and cold. Pigsys ears were turning purple from the temperature as he tried, and failed, to hide from the worst of it behind Sandy. Sandy silently continued on, carving a path for Sophie (who trailed farther behind) to walk through. The snow was already deep, coming to her knees as they continued to follow the tiny path up the mountain. Black rock jutted upward and outward like broken teeth into the white air. Horse and Monk both were struggling ahead, Yulongs sides shivering in the wet as the snow melted on his fur. Tripitaka called Wukong over, asking him to scout ahead to look for a place they could shelter for the duration of this storm. Sophie could see there heads bent together as Master and pupil discussed. Wukong, for once, didn’t reply with a snort or a quick jab at how Trip should be lucky for him to be his disciple. Instead he had somersaulted off, gone in a flash of fur and tiger stripes, into the air.

“Would be nice if I could just somersault out of here.” Sophie muttered.

A freak blizzard had not been on the list of things Sophie was ready for. She had faced shape-changing demons, women that turned to great tigers to devour Tripitaka, mountain gods throwing stones down into their path and the like. Sophie was prepared for any person or creature - or at least- expecting it. The weather however? She was severely underprepared for. She had the travel clothes she had bought with the coin purse she’d been given. They were meant for light rain and mild heat. Not for a snowstorm. Sophies hair was getting wet and the cold was starting to chill her ears from where it melted.

“It’s so cold…” she muttered. She kept following Sandys footpath, thankful for the giant of a river demon and his slow shuffling walk. If he was walking normally he would have left her far behind in the snow.

Her foot hit a rock and slipped, sending her flailing into a rapidly growing snowbank. “F-f-f-freezing! AH!” Snow had gone down her shirt, sending a chill up her spine. Faster than a wildcat she had hopped from the bank, shaking herself.

“Hate snow hate snow hate snow—“ she chanted her mantra as she slapped off the powder, trying to prevent it from melting and wetting her clothes. Wet clothes would only spell disaster. Sophie could recall all the cold born illnesses from one special National Geographic did on Everest and the extreme exposure the hikers faced there: pneumonia, Trench foot, frostbite, hypothermia, flu, Chilblains, bronchitis —

Her foot slipped again as her mind was listing all the things that could happen. Sophie would have been in the snowbank a second time except something caught her by the midriff and hauled her up.

“Stupid women stay on your feet!” Wukong snarled in her ear, setting her down. Sophie nodded, teeth chattering and nose turning red as the cold began to chap it. “Of all the people here I thought at least you had the common sense to be aware of ice!”

From up ahead came the faint cry and heavy fall as Pigsys fell face first in the snow. Sandy had to quickly turn to hid a chuckle as the drenched demon began wilding swinging his rake around in rage.

“S-s-sorry.” She mumbled, shoving her hands beneath her armpits. “Slipped.”

“What’s wrong with your speech? You sound like a squirrel.” Wukong cocked his head, an eyebrow raised. He rolled his eyes when Sophie didn’t banter back irritated she wasn’t snapping back at him. That agitation grew when he felt something like worry begin to itch his pelt. Of the pilgrims, the two mortals were in his charge of care and were the most delicate. While Wukong could fight off monsters and Demons and wicked minded mortals he could not fight a storm. Well- he could if he really wanted to find the celestial body responsible for its creation. But that would take time- and time was not on his side on this.

Tripitaka had put on a brave face when he had asked the Monkey King to find shelter. That didn’t mean Wukong had not noticed how his Masters hands had turned red at the growing cold, how his body shivered and his nose sniffed. Wukong would have teased, poked and prodded at his master- it was his nature to rile and cause mischief. But when he had seen the half awake expression on the mortal man’s face, Wukong had bit his tongue (with great effort) and had instead nodded.

Seeing Sophie in a similar state made the itch beneath his pelt grow worse as fire ants had begun to bite his skin.

“Damn it.” He cursed beneath his breath. He snatched her arm, avoiding her hand, and started dragging her behind him. “Come on just a bit farther you softie. I found a cave up ahead where we can get out of the worst of it. You mortals are ABSOLUTELY worthless when it comes to weather —“

Sophie was only half listening to Wukongs ranting. She allowed herself to be dragged up the mountain pass, trusting the Monkey King to find a better route than her own dimming senses. The cold was like a blanket she wanted to escape out of. Or escape into? She couldn’t remember clearly. If she closed her eyes… she was so tired. The snow looked inviting, comforting. Like the best downy comforter. Like the fluffiest pillow.

Maybe I just … need to lay … down in the comfort. Just close my eyes for a few minutes.

They had been walking for hours before the storm blew in. Her feet hurt, her hands shook and it was so cold. Cold. She just wanted to sleep.

“SOPHIE LOOK AT ME!” Wukong yanked her and she was rattled enough to open her eyes wider in surprise. Sun Wukong was right in her face, leaning so close she could see every line of his facial markings in detail. His breath came from between his teeth like some dragons as he glared.

“Ye-es?!”

“Stay awake- we're almost there. If you fall asleep while I’m dragging your ass up the mountain I will bite your pretty nose clean off!” The demonic monkey spat, then, half carried, half dragged Sophie the rest of the way. Leaning against his back Sophie sighed. Through the clothing she could feel it- like desert sand warmed by the sun. Delicious heat. Sophie - who wouldn’t in normal circumstances have cuddled so close- practically melted against the warmth. What else could she do? Wukong was dragging her up the mountain- practically carrying her. She could see the bend in the mountain pass- a steep cliff where the road cut itself around and hugged the mountain as a snake would do climbing along a vine. Almost there.

“How come you get to be so warm?” She grumbled, not realizing she had said it aloud. Wukong had heard however, and his face became a storm cloud as his heart took a shuddering beat.

“Maybe grow some fur or ask for the Buddha to make you some furry creature. Bet he would too.” Wukong grumbled back.

Stupid fucking women.

They reached the curve in the mountain where Pigsy and Sandy- mostly Sandy since the pig demon kept complaining about how cold his snout was- were setting up three tents. The tents were simple, the leather treated against wet weather and solid. All pigsy had to do was drive the stakes into the stone which, it seemed, he was failing at.

“It’s so damn cold!” Pigsy snorted angrily stamping his hands together, having missed the spike for the third time. “Blasted Heaven and whoever ordered a storm now of all times! Don’t they know who’s crossing these mountains?”

“Less talking more working.” Sandy angrily chided. He had finished setting up the second tent all on his own. When Pigsy went to open his mouth to make another comment and the usually peaceful Sandy shoved him across the shallow cave to the last tent and the one closest to the entrance.

As Wukong walked past, Pigsy lifted an eyebrow at the strange sight. The Monkey King could see the pig beginning to lift a lip in a smirk only to stop when he noticed Sophie’s shivering.

“What did you do?” Those were the last words Wukong expected to come out of his fellow brothers mouth.

“WHAT DID I DO?!” He bared his teeth, fangs on display. He didn’t have time for Pigsy or for his own feelings to confuse him. He knew Sophie was practically clinging to his back like the newborn monkeys did to their mothers back on Flower Fruit Mountain. He was very aware of it. The last thing he needed was for this thick pink idiot to start shit with him.

“I DIDNT DO SHIT YOU THICK HEADED BOAR.” He spat, continuing past. “THIS IDIOT STARTED FALLING ASLEEP IN THE FUCKING STORM. NOW SHUT UP AND GET THE OTHER TENT SET UP.”

Wukong left Pigsy behind, angrily chattering to himself and feeling embarrassed all the while. He couldn’t let that thick womanizing boar know any of Wukongs feelings. If he did, the damn brute would only press his nose to it and route deeper. The sooner he got Sophie off his back the better. Even though he didn’t entirely want that.

He reached the back corner of the cave, setting Sophie down. She huffed, letting go with some reluctance to his warm back. The Monkey King knelt, leaning in. Sophie’s shivering was less. Good.

“I’ll be back- I have to make sure the pink ham doesn’t fuck up the last tent. Once I’ve tended Yulong and seen to my masters comforts I’ll be back to check on you.”

Sophie pulled her knees to her chest. She was still so cold. She wanted nothing more then to curl up and sleep- to find something warm and hold onto it. She heard Wukong from far off - but she nodded.

“S-S-sure… just gonna fall .. asleep.”

“Don’t fall asleep you idiot.” He snapped.

“Why not?” Sophie groaned. She was tired

“Remember. You are in wet clothes. Wake up just to remember - Think. Use that reading brain of yours.” He flicked her between the eyes. That woke Sophie up enough as the pain cleared her head.

“Ow, what the hell Wukong?!” Sophie felt like she had come out of a daze. Her fingers started rubbing at the pain. It wasn’t terrible but … she felt like a child be scolded. Sophie glared up into the smug monkey face.

“Awake? Good. Now fucking listen before you nod off again.” Wukong smirked just a bit. The itching beneath his fur had eased just enough upon seeing her get mad. He spoke slowly, for her sake but also to press in how much he enjoyed giving her orders- and being right about them. “Your clothes are wet. You can’t sleep in them. Change to new ones. In fact, bundle up as much as you can. I’ll be back to check on you.”

Wukong stood up, then turned back around to flick her on the forehead again.

“Ow! I’m up, I'm up!” Sophie rubbed at the space between her brows.

“Did you hear what I said?”

“Yes yes …” she uncurled herself and stood as well, looking down at the Monkey King. “Get out of wet clothes and get new ones. Bundle up. That really hurt you know.”

“If you are still in wet fucking clothes, I’ll do a lot worse then just smack you between the eyes.” And then he was away, already cussing Pigsy out who had, somehow, managed to rip the tent.

It was a only about twenty minutes later but Sophie had managed not to fall asleep. She had gotten into the tent and had peeled the worst of the wet clothes off. Her poor shoes were the worst for wear- the socks and the soles were soaked. She would have to wear her spare shoes tomorrow and let these ones dry. Sophie had set the wet clothes to the farthest side of the tent. She was now dressed in a pair of gray sweats, a long sleeve and her hoodie of bright orange with clementines decorating the front. She felt much warmer and absolutely exhausted. Her fingers were red where the cold had gotten them, her lips felt chapped from the dry air, and her body just kept shivering.

Sophie had retreated almost completely into the hoodie- only her face was viewable.

The tent flap lifted and Wukong stepped in, a bowl of some sort of wild berries and cold rice in one hand. He took one look at her huddled there on her sleeping mat and snorted.

“You look like some orange orangutan.”

“Hahah very funny. See how you like the cold when you don’t have fur.” She shot back. Wukong offered the bowl to her and she took it, digging into it with gusto.

“How’s Trip?” She asked between bites.

“Alive.” Wukong leaned back, putting his arms beneath his head as he stared up at the tent ceiling. “You two would have frozen if not for me- you were both starting to look pinker than yangmei fruit.”

“Thank you.” Sophie said.

“Mm? What are you thankful for ?”

Oh he was gonna ask her for all of it then? Sophie looked at him. Wukong had propped himself up enough to stare at her, waiting.

“Thank you for the food.” She lifted the now empty bowl- she had been famished - to him. “Thank you for finding a spot to rest. And … thanks for dragging me out of the snow.”

“You almost died I hope you know that.” He smirked, laying back down, eyes closing. She followed suit, too tired to sit up anymore or even bicker back with him.

“Yeah I did …” Sophie yawned. Usually she wouldn’t admit so readily to Wukong just how certain situations had made her dependent upon him. He was always, in some way or other, saving the lot of them. When Tripitaka was snatched up by some Goblins belonging to some chieftain of a nearby mountain, when Pigsy had boasted that they didn’t need Wukong and then (almost immediately) failed to find food when Wukong was sent away. He had stopped the dragon horse from foundering and taken to the care of his hooves and coat many a time. The Monkey King had seen to restoring the missing supplies from Sophie pack when a group of mischievous raccoon spirits had taken it. Wukong had even replaced Sandy’s teakettle when it was smashed in battle (Sophie was pretty sure he had stolen it).

He may act aloof and pompous but deep down, this big old brute cared for them. Even Pigsy.

Sophie felt her eyes grow heavy as Wukong kept talking about how she had stumbled in the snow like some “dumb struck fawn” until he came to help her.

As she relaxed to the sound of his voice rumbling on and on, it almost felt … cozy. Yes Wukong may like to slide the occasional wriggly salamander into her water skin, he may thumb through her things like they were his, he may call her idiot, stupid women, and softie. But. There was no real malice behind his actions.

He was also kind of … warm. She scooted closer, half listening to the Monkey ramble on about the idiocy of mortals and the greatness of beings such as him. He was rambling on about his natural prowess over mortals and how he had mastered the arts of immortality and Tripitaka couldn’t even master warding off a cold. Sophie fell asleep before he could get to the part about her looking like a slack jawed idiot in the snow.

Wukong was only a quarter way through his regaling of the story of how he had saved everyone this day when he felt hands wrap around his chest.

His heart nearly flew into his throat as he stopped dead in his speech. His mouth was open, voice cut off halfway through his speech. Sophie curled into his side, face buried in the crook of his neck and so close to his ear he could feel her breathing against its shell.

Electricity shot threw him, fur standing on end as if he had been in a thunderstorm.

He was suddenly very aware of many things. Of Sophie’s hands that had escaped that ridiculous orange sweatshirt and were now burrowed into his fur. One arm was across his chest. The second one was now, somehow beneath his head and tugging on his shoulder. Sophie’s face rested on his arm and in the curve of his neck, her face rubbing back and forth like a cat. As if … she was enjoying the feel of it.

Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck.

Sophie moved just a bit, mumbling in his ear and Wukong felt his tail lash like it had just been bit. She didn’t say anything coherent but — the proximity alone—

Fucking Hell and all its Judges.

Sophie was … cuddling him.

She was practically twined around him.

And she smelled fantastic. Her scent always changed- sometimes it held a hint of lemons and the sweetness of grass, other times it floated like rain clouds and smelled of stones. But all of it together had a larger perfume beneath it. It was just her. Yes there were moments when her scent changed just enough that he felt like he was adding new spices onto his favorite dish. The essence of it, however, was just Sophie.

And now that cloud was all around him, filling his nose.

He looked at her, turning his head just a fraction to see.

Big mistake.

She was asleep, passed out completely. She looked so … fragile asleep. The dark circles beneath her eyes spoke of how she hadn’t been sleeping well. Her nose was stupidly pink like a Red Pika in her pale face. The cold must have chapped it. His eyes darted to her lips …

Mistake number two.

Wukong looked away, feeling his face flame. Fuck. Shit. He was stuck in a predicament now. He hadn’t meant to chat away about himself for so long that Sophie would fall asleep. Wukong was at war with himself. On one hand, he needed to get out of here. To leave before Pigsy and the others found out- before Sophie found out.

He couldn’t let anyone be that close to him- couldn’t let anyone be as close as Sophie was right now. It was a liability to his pride, to his reputation—

To his heart. Because if she rejected him it would ruin the friendship they had. And the feeling he had building in his chest- he would crush it in his fist before he let it jeopardize that peace between them.

I have to leave —

Wukong tried to move-

Only to feel Sophie’s fingers tug in his fur and her sleepy voice grumble “m’no don’t go.”

Jade Emperor flay me and boil me alive again.

In all the hundreds of years of living, Wukong had only felt trapped like this but once before. The first time he had lost his wager to the Buddha, having been unable to somersault out of his hand. The second time? He was trapped because he allowed it. He was trapped in a way no one in Heaven could have predicted- or had thought to do. Wukong had been placed in vats to be boiled, had wormed and tricked his way out of every trap and net that had attempted to keep his mischief managed. It had taken Buddha and his wager to finally end Wukongs terrorization of Heaven.

Wukong couldn’t move now. He was tethered here by frail fingers and the steady beat of a mortal's heart.

He could hear her heartbeat, feel it against his side. It was steady, soft. Like the steady roar of Water-Curtain Cave. Like the wind through the trees of the orchards on his mountain.

She was mortal. One day that steady beat would stop as all mortal hearts did.

That set his tail to lashing just a bit.

Hasn't she been afraid of dying? Of growing old? He remembered hearing a conversation late at night- when Tripataka and Sophie had those rare mortal conversations where he was explicitly not allowed to sit in on. He hadn’t known why it was such a secret conversation. So of course, since it wasn’t an order, Wukong had pulled a hair from his tail and made a doppel and floated somewhere nearby but out of sight to eavesdrop. The Monk and Reader had been chatting about death, about Sophie’s future.

Well her fears were unfounded. Doesn’t she know I would take care of her? Sophie shifted a bit closer as a gust of wind slipped beneath the tent flat he had left unsecured. Damn it all. Wukong carefully, o so carefully, shifted himself. He slid his body so he was now lying on his side, setting Sophie’s head beneath his chin. It was all the invitation Sophie needed to cuddle closer and escape from the wind.

“You stupid women.” He angrily whispered into her hair. He wouldn’t let her die. He would just fix that. He would fix a lot of her problems. She just had to tell him. He was Sun Wukong, Great Sage Equal to Heaven. He knew of a hundred different ways to achieve immortality. He could fix them all. Like her problem right now of being cold.

He was too tense to relax fully- too aware- but he grew just a fraction larger. His size now dwarfed Sophie’s a good bit and gave her a bit more to tangle into. And she did. Sophie curled her knees up, shivering slowing. Wukong waited. Watching. When finally the shivering had ceased he allowed just a fraction of tension to slide off of him. This stupid softie is gonna make me soft. The thought didn’t bother him as much as it would have months ago.

Maybe he wouldn’t get much sleep tonight but…

He could make her life Hell in the morning. It was something that she owed him on. His face was screwed furiously into a scowl because all he wanted to do was enjoy this moment but if he did- if he really truly did- he didn’t know if he would be able to stop.

She was most assuredly going to be bombarded tomorrow with the most annoying and snappish teasing and toying a King of Monkeys and tricks could give.

Sophie woke with a start as something cold and wet slapped her in the face. She panicked as any person would.

“GaH! DEMON!” She cried, grabbing at her face and throwing it aside. It was a wet rag.

“Relax.” Wukongs voice laughed at her. “Unless cloth can become possessed and has gained a hunger for red nosed mortal flesh, you're fine.”

He was at the tent flap, grinning ear to ear in a grin that promised problems. Really so early in the morning and he already wants to play games ?

“You could have woken me up in a number of other ways- why did you pick that?” Sophie rubbed at her face, feeling … huh. She didn’t feel as sore as she usually felt. When Sophie woke up there was almost a constant crick of pain in her neck from whatever odd angle she had slept in on the ground.

Maybe I had been so tired my body just finally didn’t care.

He shrugged. “You stink. Next place we stop at you better demand a bath of some sort or other.”

“Thanks….” She grumbled, letting the sarcasm drip off her words. She took the cloth up, rubbing the sleep out of her face and the worst of the dirt off her face and arms. She would kill for a warm bath, one that would wake up her bones and chase the last of the cold from her body. Once clean, she checked her wet clothes, bundling them away in a separate part of her pack to avoid them dampening the rest of her stuff. Then she stepped out of the tent, smelling the fire and the promise of breakfast being made.

Only for her feet to slip right from beneath her as a monkey foot stuck out and caught her ankle.

“WUKONG!”

He laughed, face full of malicious mischief as Sophie gathered herself up to chase after the errant Monkey. To do what, she didn’t know. He was a mystical demonic creature born of stone and she just a mortal women. As the morning light cut into the cave and Tripitaka had to order his disciple to calm down after he once again tripped her and she almost went sprawling into rocks, the pilgrims ate breakfast. They broke down their tents. And they were once again on the road.

None were the wiser of Wukongs happier mood. He hid it beneath a storm of frowns and a game of teasing torture as he became partically insufferable to Sophie. The threat of the hoop tightening spell was the only true damper to his mood when Tripataka heard Sophie scream as snow was dropped down the back of her shirt.

As the sun rose higher and the word was cast in a frosty flash of refracted gold, Wukong made a decision. He would solve Sophie problem of growing old. It was easy. And if Buddha couldn’t send her back…

Well she was a great sport for pestering and heckling. The least he could do as a benevolent King is give the poor women a roof over her head.

Maybe a few dresses down the line...

Girls liked dresses right?

“Hey Reader!” He called.

“What?”

“Dresses or suits ? What did you wear in that fake time long after this one ? Or whatever fake dimension you fell out of. What did you prefer ?”

And thus began the long hour debate that somehow pulled every one of them: Pigsy, Sandy and Tripitaka, into what was a heated discussion on the best attire for the best occasions.