#Shorter than I wanted it to be

[jw-penrose]

Hisser

Watchdog: Part Two

Part One

Watchdog followed behind Stonewall nervously, hoping he wouldn't Take notice of him. It never went well when he did.

"Windrider," Stonewall said abruptly, startling Watchdog. He glanced up quickly, and there was Windrider.

Windrider was a fairly new hero, but he was rising quickly. He was charismatic and handsome, and had a strong ability. He was quickly gaining reputation as effective against pyrokinetics and the like due to his ability to starve their fires of oxygen.

Watchdog wondered briefly at his presence. He wasn't aware of any particularly strong fire-users in Persephone's employ, but, then again, he wasn't aware of most things.

"Stonewall," Windrider greeted. He glanced at Watchdog, who quickly looked back down. "You retrieved the captive?"

Stonewall grunted. It was less that he'd retrieved Watchdog and more that after he'd scared off Persephone, Watchdog had followed him.

"Good. Any contact?"

"The plant bitch. Haven't seen the others."

"Probably best. That is why I'm here, after all."

Stonewall grunted again. "Watchdog."

The amount of adrenaline that shot through Watchdog at that second is indescribable. "Y-Yes?" He looked up to see Stonewall and Windrider looking at him expectantly. "Oh! S-sorry, I didn't-"

Stonewall's characteristic glare intensified, so Watchdog stopped talking and Linked Stonewall and Windrider.

Windrider twitched and made a face. Watchdog looked back down. Interesting floors Persephone had. Old concrete with weeds pushing through the cracks.

"Watchdog."

Again, Watchdog started. The others, right! He briefly dipped into the pair's thoughts, reading the composition of the team, before Linking to each of them.

Hey, comms are up!

Feeling a bit slow today, apparently. Taking it's goddamn time.

Don't be too rough on it. nothing it could do would make it worse than the ones issued by upper management, am I right?

There was a round of amusement and agreement, and Watchdog shrank as Stonewall and Windrider went back to doing important things. Oh look, dandelions.

The heroes talked and bantered over the Link, and Watchdog dutifully conveyed each message to its intended recipients.

And he yearned.

It would be nice, he thought, spying what looked like sourgrass, to have something like that.

'It would be nice' was an understatement. It would be amazing, he'd give anything not to have this hollow, this ache, in his chest.

A stray thought caught his attention, and he did the mental equivalent of glancing over.

Stupid stupid stupid should've followed the plan this is why you have Hecate-

Persephone?

His heartrate spiked as he followed the Link which he had apparently made earlier, while she was-

While she was lying.

She was ahead of them, and moving, if slowly. Her leg was injured, maybe broken, she was moving towards help.

They're chasing her, he realized. He hadn't really been paying attention, but he ran over the heroes' thoughts, letting her lead them to the others. Stonewall and Windrider had gained a few other heroes, but the vast majority were still wandering Persephone's complex, searching it and trying to flush out any of her allies.

What I wouldn't give to have that kid with me now,

Watchdog's attention was caught by Persephone again, and again, he couldn't help but bask in the thought.

She's lying though he thought,She has to be. I'm... I'm just Watchdog.

Would it be so bad, a small part of him whispered, to be lied to, if being lied to feels like this?

Watchdog reached for Persephone's Link.

--------------------

Phoebe, known to her enemies as the Dread Persephone, couldn't keep from cursing herself as she limped away from Stonewall's party. Why oh why had she let Stonewall rouse her temper? She shouldn't even care about that boy anyway, he was probably with Stonewall and his bastards for a reason anyway.

He was just so small though. She brushed aside the thought.

Then she felt... something. Like when someone sneaks up behind you and none of your senses tell you there's somebody there but somehow you just know.

Persephone? said a small, shy voice.

She blinked. Watchdog?

Yes.

She waited for a moment.

Did you have something you wanted to ask? she thought gently.

(Could you think things gently? She wasn't sure. Hopefully the point got across anyway)

Do, um. He hesitated, words charged with uncertainty in a way she couldn't describe. When you said-

Abruptly, a memory flashed in her mind. It was herself, standing over someone sitting down-

Your abilities are simply incredible!

You think I'm squeamish enough to dismiss the most powerful mental ability in recorded history in the name of whether or not I think it's weird?

What I wouldn't give to have this absolute goddamn powerhouse on my side.

-Pacing around, ranting like a madwoman.

She stumbled at the sensations of herself from somebody else's perspective. Was she hearing her own thought through the thoughts of somebody else, who could read thoughts?

Watchdog shrank back, something she could feel in a way she didn't know how to describe, and she shook herself out of her stupor, trying to reach out as one might touch somebody's shoulder to keep their attention.

Of course I meant it all. You're incredible.

Watchdog, who had stopped at the reaching, shrank back some more, watching her closely in a way she couldn't describe.

Stonewall and Windrider are following you, he thought suddenly, in a distinctly blurting fashion. and- another memory came over her, a scene from the perspective of somebody small, following behind three heroes walking with Stonewall.

Which one's Windrider? She asked after a moment, a stupid grin spreading across her face, more than one hundred percent okay with what was currently happening. and why is he important?

The lanky one, the thought came with an impression of the hero, his looks, how he sounded, what his mind was like-

and, she noted, how he treated Watchdog.

She mentally marked down the name 'Windrider'.

An anti-pyrokinetic, you say? was what she sent. Thankfully, he didn't appear to have noticed the other thoughts. She conveyed an impression of amusement.

Confusion, in return.

Let's just say I have a feeling that won't work out too well for them. You'll see.

Alright. Um, the others are- A semi-complete map of the building, with glowing dots scattered across the area. Immediately after, he sort of- flinched, would probably be the best word for it.

She grinned, pushing down her anger in favor of awe, which was a much more useful emotion when there wasn't anyone around for her to beat the hell out of, and there was a new ally whose endless usefulness needed to be known. Can you keep that up?

He didn't send anything, but listening(?? what word do you even use to describe telepathy?), she could clearly feel his astonishment.

Um. I don't- I'm not sure? No one's ever- I can keep sending you that but- I don't know if I can make it live or-

That's alright, she cut him off, feeling the rising panic. Just try your best. This is already very useful. She inspected the map as he fiddled with their bond a little.

Is this everyone?

Uh?

Is there anyone else in the building? If you can't tell that's alright.

Uh, That's just who I'm Linked to, he sort of frowned, but mentally, and she noted the term. Maybe I can- another map, this one very odd. There were no glowing dots, just sort of... impressions of minds. She cross-referenced the maps, and touched one of the impressions that wasn't on the first.

She grinned, changing direction to move toward it. Can you keep me updated? I'm moving toward this one. She sent the Impression

He inspected it. Y-yeah. Then, quieter, Who's that?

My second, Hecate, he started slightly, and she wondered if she had been meant to hear that. Are you familiar with my allies?

Hecate and Hisser, he thought with a sort of nod. The names weren't just words, they came with the entire impression they had made on him. She felt the frustration Hecate caused in the heroes, and the unbridled fear that shot through their minds at the second name.

Hisser? She thought, in the half second before she got it. She burst out laughing. Is that what they call him?

Confusion. Is that not his name?

He doesn't have one, she shrugged doesn't want one, apparently.

Oh,

If you see him, Link him to me immediately, she ordered, levity fading. If you don't, he might think you're with them.

I- he hesitated. I can only Link people to myself, but I can Link to him and transmit between the two of you.

That works, she thought, mind taking off at the implications.

--------------------

Watchdog's heart was beating out of his chest, and he honestly couldn't tell why. Could be because he was betraying Stonewall, could be because he had found somebody who thought his ability was incredible(!?!?) and who couldn't seem to stop complimenting him.

Could also be because he might be about to encounter the most terrifying villain in recorded history, who, after several bodies had gone missing after his debut, had taunted the heroes at his second appearance by saying that their comrades had been delicious.

...Probably the compliments.

He checked for what might be the fifth time in the last sixty seconds that Persephone was still on track toward Hecate.

...tss...

Hecate, abilities umbrakinesis and pyrokinesis, fights by darkening her surroundings to pitch black and throwing fire at her opponents form unexpected angles. Weaknesses include the fact that in throwing flames she casts light around the room, giving heroes a glimpse of her position.

...Tss...

Don't know much about Hisser, reports usually center around how terrifying he is. And the hissing. Why does he hiss anyway?

...Tssss...

He glanced up toward the party of heroes, wondering what he'd heard, but they were still stalking towards Persephone, talking only occasionally.

Watchdog,

His attention snapped to Persephone.

If you can only Link people to yourself, does that mean you could mess with the heroes' comms?

He sent back an affirmative, and received a glee-touched Perfect.

Should I cut the Links? He glanced nervously at Stonewall.

No, no. She thought. That's far too obvious. Just screw with them a little. Send their messages to the wrong people, switch around locations, make them think their messages were sent when they weren't. Her thoughts were increasingly tinged with mischief.

Watchdog. Felt a bit mischievous too. That was a new one.

...TSsss...

He glanced behind their party at the sound.

Watchdog?

He started before sending back an affirmative, and getting to work.

It was. Actually pretty fun.

A message stifled here, a delivery to the wrong recipient there.

...TSSsssss...ss..

A rendezvous where everyone has a different position.

...TSSSsss...sSSsss...

Some tampered-with directions.

...TSSSSssss...sSSsss...Tschsshhh...

Watchdog glanced back. What was that sound?

He stared back for a long second, and when he faced forward again, the heroes were staring at him. Stonewall's glare was even more intense than usual.

Uh, he thought, panicked. Was that out loud?

Windrider scoffed. "What, your own heartbeat too loud in your ears? Don't worry... what was your hero name again?" He sneered the word 'hero'. "'Watchdog'? Commlink is more like it." The two nameless heroes chuckled, one of them giving a muttered 'good one'

Watchdog shrank at the insult to his hero name. He'd come up with it himself, back when he'd bee foolish and hadn't realized how terrible his ability was. He'd pictured himself watching over his friends, warning of danger and guarding from villains.

It hadn't worked out that way.

The three turned back forward, but Stonewall was still staring straight at Watchdog.

"What did you hear?"

Windrider glanced back. "Come on Stonewall-"

"Do not forget who it is we are facing!" He snapped at Windrider, before turning back to Watchdog. "What is it. That you heard?"

Watchdog trembled under the full force of Stonewall's rage. "I-I-I-"

Stonewall snarled. "We don't have time for your incompetence!" He seized Watchdog by the throat with a granite fist, slamming him against the wall. "WHAT DID YOU HEAR?"

"I-it sounded like-," Hissing. It had sounded like Hissing.

Watchdog got it a half second before everybody else.

The hissing sound was continuous now, scattered with the occasional small pop-ish noise, rising and falling like-

Footsteps, Watchdog somehow realized through the pure terror pumping through his veins, his heart beating so fast he could actually hear it.

Everything was silent, everyone staring, as a man stepped around the corner behind them.

Watchdog didn't need to notice his ability slipping off the man's mind to know he was insane. it was written across his face, his wide eyes shining with a mad light, his smile more a baring of teeth than anything else. It was written in the twitching of his eyebrows, in the trembling shudders that traveled up and down his form, written in the blood flecked on the fireman's axe resting over his shoulder.

Written in the unholy mixture of a growl and a chuckle he gave when those mad eyes alighted on them, steam pluming from his mouth.

Steam and smoke wreathed his form, making him look ethereal, almost unreal. Watchdog noticed those hardy plants blackening underneath his feet, and for a second he thought Hisser was some kind of god of death, killing everything that dared touch him with his very presence, but then he saw the smoke rising from the blackening grass and realized that it was heat. Hisser was giving off so much heat that when he touched the grass it burnt too fast to even catch fire.

But not too fast too let out a loud hiss.

"Hisser," One of the heroes said, almost reverently, voice cracking with fear.

His grin widened, steam pouring from his mouth, joining the smoke swirling around him.

Is that his saliva? Watchdog thought semi-hysterically.

Stonewall stumbled backward, releasing Watchdog a half second too late. He tripped, recovering his balance but ending up front and center between Hisser and the heroes.

Hisser, still grinning that mad, too-many-toothed grin, opened his mouth, the hissing and popping of his saliva boiling getting louder, and spoke, just one word.

"PREY."

Then Watchdog was thrown into the air, hitting the concrete hard and tumbling sideways, pain shooting through his ribs.

He wheezed, trying to inhale but unable to, for a long moment.

Watchdog?

For a long moment he lay there, Persephone's thoughts passing over him almost unnoticed, waves of heat washing over him.

WATCHDOG!

She was turning around. Heading towards him.

He sent her a negative feeling, the impression of Hecate.

She hesitated. What happened? She demanded, sounding worried for some reason.

What had happened?

Watchdog looked up.

Stonewall and the heroes were nowhere to be seen, but there was a dome of concrete in the center of the hallway, so their whereabouts were hardly a mystery.

I must have been thrown when he raised the dome, Watchdog thought, able to breathe again, but not really doing so because it sent spikes of pain through him.

"COME OUT, COME OUT, SSSSSTONY-BOY!"

Outside the dome was Hisser, sounding like a child playing hide and seek, if not for the way his words were obscured by the hissing that came from his mouth whenever he opened it.

Hisser had one hand raised, and, as Watchdog watched, flames erupted from his open palm.

Now, Watchdog knew about pyrokinetics. He'd seen them in Heroes' memories, heard about them from rumor. They made some of the most dangerous villains, and not a single one had ever joined the heroes. They were dangerous, plain and simple. But the point was, he'd seen them, he knew what they were like, with fireballs and fire breath.

Hisser's fire was nothing like that.

From his palm, a pressurized geyser erupted, hitting the dome and deflecting off to the sides, landing around the room and setting the plants ablaze. Watchdog could feel the heat of the blast from here, and had to cover his face. Even if it hadn't been too hot to face, it was near too bright to look at, orange so bright it was practically white, leaving behind spots in his eyes. Even cowering against the concrete floor, he could hear the flames, not like a crackling campfire, but from the way they ploughed through the air so quickly and from the sheer impact against the concrete dome.

Watchdog had sort of wondered, when the heroes were so afraid of Hisser. What could he have possibly done to evoke such a reaction from some of the most powerful individuals on the planet?

Watchdog no longer wondered.

After a ten-second eternity, The sound cut off.

Watchdog, talk to me!

Watchdog looked up slowly to see Hisser inspecting the concrete carefully, smile still partially on his face, but more like he has simply forgotten to take it off than he was still wearing it intentionally.

Watchdog please,

The demented grin spread back across his face.

Watchdog made a pathetic sort of sound.

He tried to send something back to Persephone, but all he could manage was

Hisser.

[waywardstation]

Look for anything (or anyone) that could be familiar

For part two:

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🔼 for Ingo to find Emmet

🔽 for Emmet to find Ingo

[foxritz]

More Lamb n Leshy interactions (in no particular order): Jealousy, Fluff

Leshy is the ex-god of chaos, so it's no surprise he favors chaos and that it guides most of his actions, which also makes his motives pretty unpredictable, even to the other Bishops. 

Hating the Lamb would be the logical thing to do, but approaching them in a friendly way will result in more confusion and a chance to annoy the hell out of Narinder as a bonus.

So far Lamb doesn't seem to mind, aside from the confusion the interactions cause them. 

Based on Leshy interactions in my cotl game file

[airoarts]

I know several other people have redrawn that one official cloudtail & brightheart art but i wanted to take a crack at it. Hire me harpercollins.

[ID: a digital painting of Cloudtail and Brightheart from Warriors in a semi-realistic style. Cloudtail is a fluffy white cat with blue eyes, and Brightheart is a ginger-and-white cat with one blue eye and heavy scarring on the other side of her face, including an empty eyesocket, shredded ear, and part of her lip torn away to reveal her teeth. The cats are facing towards the viewer, looking happy, with Brightheart leaning her head into Cloudtail's muzzle. They are in a field of tall grass with mountains visible in the background and a tree with a few leaves looming over them. End ID]

Original below the cut for comparison

[ID: a painting similar to the first one, but Brightheart and Cloudtail are drawn in a more realistic style, lacking expression, and not leaning into each other. Brightheart has much less ginger on her pelt and her scarring is reduced to a few scratches on her eye. End ID]

[s0fter-sin]

thinking about the way ghost doesn't hesitate to start killing shadows when graves betrays them but soap only takes one hostage

you can almost hear the voice in his head telling him it doesn't have to be this way; they can still talk it out

"i'm calling shepherd"

his first instinct when confronted with betrayal is to play it by the books: to go up the chain. that goes against everything we've seen him do. he bucks authority at every chance except for the one time he's confronted with the barrels of his allies' guns

he wants a peaceful resolution; for the first time we've ever seen, he doesn't want violence to be the answer. there has to be another fix, a solution that doesn't end with him killing the same men he's been working with; his friends

nothing's happened yet

it doesn't have to go this way

but ghost has been betrayed before. he knows the way this ends; either with him six feet under or his enemy

he doesn't hesitate

it's only when they knock alejandro out that soap shoots; when they spill the first blood and cross a line they can never come back from

only when ghost orders him to run and he has to cover his retreat

and somewhere along the line, between civilians’ screams and taunting voices, between his shaking breath and ghost steady in his ear, that naivety is stripped away; his trust turned to teeth that he uses to sink into throats of men he'd have given his life for

"be careful who you trust, sergeant; people you know can hurt you the most"

he's learned the price of trust

just like ghost did

but unlike ghost, he has someone to guide him through the aftermath

"good advice, It"

[lilybug-02]

Eimmet High...temmiE high. OMG!

Part 28 || First || Previous || Next...(Hiatus)

--Full Series--

Next update may take...much longer! I have finals and an internship and not to mention I have to draw- A LOT :')

[feelo-fick]

it can't be too hard right?

it's easy not to think about things, he tells me i don't think all the time! wait...

—

a scene from a fic that i have no clue if ill finish, let alone post, but look i made fanart of my own thing that doesnt even exist :D

[bacchuschucklefuck]

doing chibi is a good design exercise bc it forces u to think on shapes n essential details, essentially thumbnailing ur designs. its also a terrible design exercise bc it ends up looking cute no matter what

[skitskatdacat63]

DTS S6E1 "Money Talks" - Fernando Alonso & Lance Stroll

[star-my]

BTS Fic Recs ☆ Tumblr (iii)

These are all available on tumblr as of April 2024. Some are likely crossposted on ao3 as well.

~Ao3 RECS HERE~ ~Recs (i)~ ~Recs (ii)~

Almost all are complete works, those with “+” after WC are incomplete. Most are BTS x (F!)Reader.

Most of these are Mature or Explicit (usually because of smut) ~ mdni ~ italicized titles rated G or T* ~ Please read responsibly~ ~*I don't believe any of the below fics are rated anything other than M or E, Minors save your time and find other lists :}~

If any authors tagged here wish to be removed/untagged, please lmk!

F2L = friends to lovers ; E2L = enemies to lovers ; FE2L = frenemies to lovers ; R2L = rivals to lovers ; BFB = best friend's brother ; BBF = brother's best friend etc

OT7/Multi

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Overall Favourite Authors (If I recc'd all their works like I want to/more than I have, I'd have to make this series even longer >.<)

☆ @1kook‘s masterlist

☆ @jimilter‘s masterlist

happy reading!

[libertyeveningsun]

dbda textposts part 2

[xxplastic-cubexx]

cant stop thinkin bout charles and erik readin together on the couch but instead of reading with him charles is listening to eriks thoughts while he reads. Live mind commentary ……..

[dozydawn]

Ballerina Darcey Bussell meets Princess Diana. December 1st, 1991.

[reversedumbrella]

i wonder

[ladymirdan]

Iron Warriors are normal about shovels, and I love it.

So normal:

[starzwithapen]

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘˗ˏˋ ˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚ ˎˊ˗∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

JOHN DORY / READER ☆ START A LOVE TRAIN

જ⁀➴.𖥔 ݁ ˖༉‧₊˚.

☆Summary: John Dory's first meeting with Rhonda and her owner, you!

☆Content: reader is gender neutral, first meeting!! Gonna make a part 2 exploring their relationship more :3

☆a/n: I FUCKING HATE HIM [affectionate] my first worrkk pls leave feedback if youd like it helps a ton!! :3

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘˗ˏˋ ˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚ ˎˊ˗∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

The day John Dory met you and Rhonda was simultaneously one of the worst and best days of his life.

He'd been hiking- nothing out of the ordinary for him, maybe one venomous spider he'd had to fight off, but so far so good! The sting of the cold air against his cheeks quelled his thoughts, made him feel accomplished, in a way.

But he must've been distracted- he was a little more careless than usual, overestimating his own strength and struggling to pull himself upwards, his legs dangling over the edge- he could feel a tick of nerves in the back of his mind, but pfftt, John Dory's got this! He's done this a million times-

Next thing he knows, the rock holding his legs up collapses, and down he goes with it, tumbling over harsh terrain while the wind rushing past his ears drowns out his yelling.

After many very painful seconds of straight up rolling down this cliff, John Dory groans in pain, dusting himself off and pushing himself upwards, except- oh, shit, okay, ow, something’s very wrong with his ankle.

He hisses and grabs onto the skin, pulling his goggles up to inspect it- it appears swollen, and he realises with a frustrated groan that he'd managed to twist his ankle miles away from the nearest safe-house.

Well- looks like he'll have to camp outside for the night, wouldn't be the first nor last time, but it'll be significantly more difficult with a leg that refuses to cooperate with you.

He rushes through setting up camp, wanting to just sleep the pain off till his foot got better, but just as he sets his head down on the pile-of-leaves-that-vaguely-resemble-a-pillow, he hears distant rustling.

That's not odd- it'd be weirder for the forest to be quiet, if anything, animals are always trudging along no matter the time of day- what's odd is how loud the sound is, feet papping against the floor in heavy strides, coming closer and closer towards him.

John Dory sits up in a flash, suddenly regretting how shittily he'd camouflaged his camp- his eyes widen towards the oncoming noise, having just enough time to snatch a stick and hold it out threateningly, though his hands shake and tremble.

“Hey! I have a- uh, a really sharp stick, and I'm not afraid to use iiIIITTT-”

The stick goes flying out of his grasp, and he gets the breath absolutely slammed out of him as something huge jumps onto him, rumbling atop him and- eugh, was it licking him?! Was this how he died, after all these years?! Eaten alive by a-

“Down, girl- stop that, you're scaring him!” the thing finally lets up on trying to swallow him whole, standing back on its hind-legs and cooing at you excitedly, and it's then that he notices you.

“Gods, I'm really sorry- she's not usually like this-” you reach over with a grimace to wipe the wet mess of saliva and glitter off his cheeks with your sleeve, and all JD can do is stare at you, star-struck. One minute he was facing his impending doom, and now he was facing the prettiest person he'd ever set his eyes on, and though he's certain it's night time he feels as though you're shining the sun's rays straight at him.

You smile nervously and pat his attacker's leg, “She wasn't actually going to eat you- or at least I don't think she was? You can never quite tell with Rhonda.”

Okay, John Dory had lived on his own amongst nothing but the trees and mountains for years, so excuse him for not being particularly eloquent when all he blurts out is “John.”

You and Rhonda blink at him comically for a moment, and he feels his cheeks flush under his fur-lined vest. No one's ever caught him off gaurd like this before.

“That's…not my name, but good guess anyways.” You check over him as if he's concussed, and he tries not to frown at the scrunch in your nose as you take in his camp.

“It's my name- John Dory.” He flashes you a charming smile, though he assumes the effects are dampened by the mess of glitter and dirt still smeared across his face, “and can I get yours, or can I just call you mine?”

Silence stretches on between you both, his smile getting more strained by the minute- why hadn't that worked? That always worked, at least when Spruce did it! You were supposed to be- swooning, or something! Not looking at him like he's sprouted a second head!

You cut through the tension with a gasp, and he follows your gaze down to his badly-damaged leg, now with extra bloodied scrapes, “Oh god, that looks rough- did Rhonda do this?” He doesn't have time to tell you that no, actually, it wasn't your fault, when you turn around and scold your…armadillo? He feels his lips quirk up- you looked pretty cute like that, like a disgruntled parent.

“Well, you can come inside and I'll wrap it up for you- you shouldn't leave it out in the open like that.” You wave him over, grabbing onto his hand to pull him into the door, and he feels his skin burn pleasantly where you both touch.

And that's how it starts. JD walks inside the armadillo bus, Rhonda, marvelling at the warmth. Though you hadn't given him your name yet, he felt as though he could trust you- you seemed like someone who values honor and helping others, however bluntly or awkwardly you may go about it.

You wrap his leg with gauze and a healing salve, and he fills the room with chatter- it'd been so long since he'd last seen another soul, he didn't realise just how…lonely he'd felt. You don't speak much of yourself, probably staying cautious, but you do seem curious about his stories, and the twinkle in your eye urges him to speak with a little more pomp than usual.

Your voice turns more concerned as you ask what he'd been doing camping out in the open like that- he'd told you of the trail he planned to follow, though he'd skipped the part where he fell off-course. He tells you of how he'd wanted to end up somewhere warmer by the time winter really hit, sighing to himself. “I'll just have to stock up on fire-wood, maybe invest in a flame-thrower.”

“I mean….we can take you there.” You offer in a quiet voice, your gaze stubbornly set on the floor, “It's still a pretty long drive, but better than 2 months walking on a sprained ankle, especially with how gnarly it looks.”

John Dory's conflicted- the offer sounds heavenly. He pictures waking up to your warmth day by day, helping you gather breakfast, travelling with a companion, for once, but….he'd left to the middle of nowhere for a reason. He wanted to distance himself from his old habits, his old expectations of himself and others.

Though….you seemed to be just as- if not more- capable than him. He wouldn't need to be a pillar for you to lean all your weight against, nor the pressure that turns coal into shining diamond- you two could simply…have each other's backs. Maybe…maybe this could work out, at least for a little while.

John Dory tilts his head up and takes one look at your welcoming smile to make up his mind.

"Can't say no to your pretty face, now can I?"

This time you snicker behind your hand at his awful flirting, but he catches it just in time- and he knows this'll be the start of something great.