#i'm remain safe outside of the fire areas

[theoryandahalf]

I may have missed the golden era of Smosh but I am a forever fan after seeing their response to the California wildfires. They're not just collecting money, but actually getting out there, packing boxes, getting the real things people need (like blankets and over the counter medications) and in general getting shit done. There's the typical 'thoughts and prayers', and then there's this. Words cannot express how much this means to me right now.

Just in case anyone is a casual fan here and not following YouTubers obsessively on their various socials...As far as I can tell, the LA Team Theorist members are doing ok. None of them have posted anything publicly. Friday's GTLive was cancelled, but that was due to a crazy snowstorm in North Carolina (ironically). But I did see that Joey Graceffa evacuated with his many foster dogs and that Rosanna Pansino was close to some of the evac zones. Sadly, both Colin and Samir have lost their homes. There's also some influencers being generally shitty rn, but I don't have the energy to feel anything about them.

I'll admit I may not have heard about a team member as I've been offline a lot this week, getting in touch with longtime friends and family.

[wandasslut3000]

Are you desperate for me?

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Smut 18+, car sex, sub!reader, thigh riding, fingering, sex pollen, breast play, marking, praise, cum play, semi clothed sex, mentions of drug trafficking and death.

WC: 2.24k

               ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

You and Wanda are currently in Bari, Italy, on a mission to find locate and arrest a dangerous drug dealer that is rumored to be heading towards London for an important deal.

Your goal is to find his base of operations and destroy his current supply. The suspect in question, Cecil Adams, otherwise known as 'The Count', has been injecting his victims with his test products.

Almost all of them ended up dead within minutes.

"Oh come on."

"It's for the good of the people" Tony said and you rolled your eyes.

"So me and Wanda have to cancel our honeymoon just to find some wack ass Peter Piper? Why can't the police just deal with it?" 

"They've tried, but every officer they sent has come back in a casket. You know we wouldn't have asked you if we didn't need to, but the rest of the team is already assigned elsewhere." Steve informed, crossing his arms and expressing a look of sympathy.

You groaned as you buried your face in your hands in annoyance. Wanda grabbed your hand, stroking the back of it her thumb as an attempt to help you calm down.

"A week in Italy wouldn't really be so bad, just think of it as a last minute change of venue." She whispered and you brought your head up to look at her and her bright green eyes.

"I... alright, fine." You couldn't bring yourself to argue with her, turning back to look back at Tony and Steve.

"You owe us two weeks off after this." Both men nodded in agreement.

Four days into your stay, you and Wanda had found his headquarters, an abandoned wear-house at the edge of the city.

You and your wife are rigging the place to blow. Members of S.H.E.L.D waiting just outside of the property as backup.

Wanda had used her magic to knock out the guards surrounding the area, putting handcuffs onto each of them, and with a snap of her fingers, she'd sent them straight into the secured van.

"You done, baby?" You ask Wanda through your earpiece.

"Everything's all set over here"

"Alright then, just make sure you're safe ok?"

You back away from the building with the remote trigger in your hand, your backpack filled with product in the other, you'd managed to sneak in prior and retrieve some per S.H.E.L.D's instructions.

"I will be detka, are you?"

"I'm safe" You assure her as you take small steps backward and away from the building.

Suddenly you feel a cool piece of metal brace itself against your throat, strong muscular arms wrapping themselves around you.

You sigh, reaching for the man's wrists and throwing him on the ground, the knife in his hand flying into the distance.

You hear him groan before you flip him on his back, grabbing a pair of handcuffs from your bag and putting his hands behind his back, locking him in place.

"For someone who's created such a hassle, you really need better fighting skills." You mutter, Wanda picking everything through the mic.

You cuff him and grab him by his hair, holding his head up. Pulling a chloroform-laced cloth from your pocket, you knock him unconscious.

"Luybov? What happened?"

"We've caught our culprit." You chuckle as you picked the man up, throwing him over your shoulder and heading towards the front of the warehouse.

You set Adams down, his body limp against the cemented ground.

"Ready?"

"Ready as I'll ever be."

"5... 4... 3... 2... 1..."

Boom.

The warehouse erupts into a riot of flames, painting the area in orange and red.

You notice a puff of smoke head in your direction but it's unlike anything you've seen before, it was... pink?

You tried your best to avoid it but you couldn't, the cloud reaching you and the moment you inhaled it, you cough heavily.

Wanda uses her powers to contain the fire and puts it out, red wisps of her magic encasing the remaining smoke, clearing it into thin air.

Once you can finally breathe, you turn to pick Adams up and hand him into S.H.E.I.L.D's custody. A group of agents taking him into the back of the van along with rest of his henchmen.

You hand one agent your bag of evidence, receiving a nod in thanks before they get inside and drive off.

"You alright?" You feel Wanda's hand grab your shoulder from behind you, her voice is laced with so much love and a hint of worry that makes you fall even deeper for this woman.

You nod, turning to face her and wrapping your arms around her neck, pulling her in for a desperately lustful kiss.

The moment your lips make contact you can't help the moan you let out at the sensation. When you pull apart, she noticed how of how your pupils have dilated drastically.

"I think it's time we go back to the hotel, don't you agree?" Your fingers playing with the pendant of her necklace, Wanda smiles back at you and nods, giving you another peck that makes your heart skip a beat.

You'd never felt this needy before.

She brushes her hand past your ear making your breath hitch, disappoint running though you when you realize she was only trying to grab your earpiece, taking her's out right after and putting them in her pocket.

Hand in hand, you both head to car that Tony had lent you for your time here. Wanda opens the door for you, a blush painting your cheeks at her chivalry.

She then heads into her spot in the drivers seat, starting up the car and putting the hotels address in the built-in GPS system.

Once on your way, you feel Wanda's hand on your thigh, giving it a light squeeze. You were starting to lose your composure, though the act was innocent, the heat in your pants was becoming unbearable.

"Oh my poor baby," she coos, "I can read your thoughts; they're quite loud."

"Are you desperate for me?"

You feel your eyes shut for a moment at her accent slipping into her words, your thighs clenching at the rasp in her voice.

You grab her hand, bringing it down to your clothed pussy, making her feel how your wetness had already stained through your uniform.

Wanda bites her lip, making a sudden turn, slowing down, and coming to a complete stop in an empty lot. You look at the screen on the dashboard, your hotel a fifteen-minute drive away.

You awkwardly shift towards her, straddling her lap, and reaching to the side for the lever of the seat, pushing it downwards.

She cups your cheeks and kisses you deeply, your tongues meshing together in a familiar dance.

Wanda unzips your suit from the front, smiling at your lack of bra. You pull apart so you can slip it off and throw it somewhere into the backseat, leaving you in just your panties.

You gasp when she sucks different marks onto your neck and collarbone, teasing you.

She's looking at you with innocent eyes, batting her lashes and pressing kisses against your skin, she then takes your nipple into her mouth, her free hand toying with your other breast, making you throw your head back in pleasure.

You move your hands to the back of her head, moaning lightly whilst treading your fingers through her silky strands. "You want me to touch you detka?" She mumbles against you and your breathing gets heavier. 

"Please."

You buck your hips against her, grinding on her thigh pathetically, the friction of your panties brushing against your clit in the just the right way, little gasps and moans escaping your throat without permission.

Wanda releases your nipple, a string of saliva being the only thing connecting her to your chest, the sight making you whimper.

You look down at her with dewy eyes, the ache in between your legs becoming unbearable. Your breath shudders when you feel her fingers slip your underwear off, making contact with your wet folds, and you bite your lip at the feeling.

"So wet for me." She whispers, your eyes shutting when her slim digits make contact with your clit, and you can't help the noises that escape your lips. "You like when I touch you like this princessa?"

"Yes- fuck." You moan when she starts to tease your entrance, spreading your wetness thought your folds. When her fingers finally enter you, your eyes roll to the back of your head as she starts to pump them in and out of you.

"Such a pretty girl." Wanda coos, placing hot open mouthed kisses on your neck and jawline, her fingers curling ever so slightly on every pull out driving you insane, a familiar hot coil building up in your stomach.

Wanda repositions her hand, placing her two fingers on her pubic bone, using her free hand to help guide you into riding her.

"You make such pretty noises my darling, make some more." she smiles sweetly at you, making you groan at her words.

Your hands fly to her shoulders to help hold you up, your nails digging into the fabric of her suit, her lips back going to suck onto your nipples, your hips bucking frantically in your effort to chase you upcoming climax.

"Mm- mhmm, yes- Wanda, right- right there!" You squeal when she moves her thumb to put pressure on your neglected bundle of nerves.

"You're so beautiful" she murmurs against you before she pulls away, moving her other hand towards your ass, squeezing it gently.

"I'm gonna cum... fuck, baby I'm gonna cum! " Your eyes roll as you let the pleasure faze through you, you hide your face into her neck though your orgasm, pressing a light kiss there as your body trembles around her.

"You did so good detka, such a good girl." You hear her praise, rubbing up and down your back soothingly, as you slowly start to come down from you high.

When you lean back and open your eyes, they land on a lust ridden Sokovian, her pupils completely enlarged as she pulls her digits out of you.

Wanda brings her fingers towards her lips before slipping them both into her mouth, You feel another surge of wetness flow through you, slightly coating Wanda's thighs with my you slick.

She hums, "So sweet." She says as the swipes her fingers through your folds again, your head falling onto her shoulder as you shudder at the feeling.

You feel Wanda hold you up slightly, digits coated with your cum, you moan when she starts to pull at your nipples. "You like that, don't you?" She smiles before pulling you into another kiss.

She moves her lips downwards towards your chest, taking each bud into her mouth, tasting your juices as she swirls her tongue around them.

"Do you think you can do one more for me?" You nod, and she positions you onto her left thigh, guiding you hips as you start to grind onto her.

You whimper as your clit comes into contact with her skin each time you move your hips, Wanda pulls you into another lip lock, grabbing you by the back of your neck with one hand while her other one helps your movements.

"God- you feel so good..."

Wanda smirks against your lips before moving her hand from my hips towards your overstimulated clit, rubbing tight circles around it before pinching it, sending you into a deeper state of pleasure.

You scream her name and a string of curses, trying to steady your breathing. "So perfect for me." She whispers as she kisses your forehead.

"I love you" You say as you kiss her nose, watching how it scrunches adorably.

"I love you too" She returns, pecking your lips and hugging you close. Both of you sighing in content at the skin on skin contact.

[atomicbland]

Just A Mirage

Hello I'm outting myself as the ──★ ˙🍓anon from @ghoulphile. Anyways they've inspired me to fall face first dip my toe back into writing and might as well share the brain rot with the class. This is my first time writing smut or anything relatively like this so any questions comments critques are welcome! I dont bite unless you want me to

pairings: cooper howard x fem!reader rating: 18+ MDNI! warnings: bondage, degradation, pet names, mentions of age gap (obviously), Cooper Howard being a jackass in general, canon typical chem use, smoking AO3 Link

You were tired, thirsty, and hungry. Your rations had been finished earlier that morning though it was not by your hand. The tall ghoul who looked like he had walked right off the set of one of those western movies with his cowboy hat, ragged leather duster, and shotgun strapped to his back had stolen the last of your food and water while you stepped away to relieve yourself. You had come back to him chewing on your stash of jerky while letting his scruffy companion, “Dogmeat”, drink straight from your water flask. You learned quickly that no matter what, he’d treat the dog better than you. He kept you on a leash, his lasso was tied around your waist and tethered to the weapon belt that might as well have been fused into his skin. Anytime you weren’t keeping pace he’d give a rough tug of the rope, causing it to bite into your belly. Argued it’s easier to keep track of you that way. 

While you lamented over the loss of your food and water and debated if hiring the old ghoul was a smart choice something catches your attention stopping you in your tracks. Along the edge of the tree line, you spot the remains of what looked like a house, bigger than any house you’ve come across. The roof and windows were still somewhat intact and something that looked like brick peeked through the vines that had taken over the structure. You felt the bite of the rope at your stomach. 

“Now, I done told you what’ll happen if I gotta tug this damn rope again…” the Ghoul threatened from in front of you.

“I saw someth-”

“You ain’t seen nothin’,” he spat. “A mirage. Just that pretty lil’ head of yours playin’ tricks sweetie.” He tugged the rope again, urging you to move along not even bothering to look in the same direction as you. 

Sweetie. Whenever he called you that you could feel the heat of a thousand rads shoot through your body, making your blood boil. 

“Maybe my mind wouldn’t be playing tricks if I still had my food and water!” You didn’t budge, refusing to play his stupid game. You were in charge, hiring him to escort you to the Old World Wall safely. 

He turned to face you, his eyes hidden by the brim of his hat but his features were twisted into a scowl. “What was that lil lady?” 

He didn’t scare you. You cleared your throat. “I said. I NEED water. You don’t get any caps or vials if I’M dead!” He stays silent, still glaring. A month's supply of vials upon arrival was on the line and he knew it. You point towards the treeline. “I saw a house over there. We're out of rations and it's getting dark. Can we at least set up camp there?” 

His answer is wordless, whistling a command to Dogmeat to run ahead to the house. He gives another tug at the rope, commanding you to follow behind him, a cautious hand at his holster. 

The inside of the house was far nicer than the outside led you to believe. While everything appeared to be overrun by nature the original bones were still there. Holey yet plush couches formed a sitting area around a fire pit that recessed into the tattered wall. The floorboards creaked and moaned under the new weight as the three of you walked around making sure the area was clear. Dusty paintings littered the walls, images nearly impossible to make out in the dim light. 

“Now smoothie,” the Ghoul started, taking a quick break to puff his inhaler, “I’mma take you off yer leash and scope the perimeter ‘fore we hunker down.” 

You nod, happy to have some relief from the scratchy fibers of the rope and to get some sort of break from your freakish travel partner. Not that you didn’t hate him but the way he spoke and stole from you did wear on your nerves. All of the stupid pet names that cowboy gave you did something to you. You couldn’t place it, a warm feeling in the pit of your stomach, a milder feeling of what he did when he’d make a pass at you. And despite how much he annoyed you, you found him strangely attractive. On those sleepless night when you were sure he was sleeping, you’d study his features, imagining his strong hands around you as he pulled your hips down onto his, his cock hitting your core just right making your back arch and pulling the same loud cries of pleasure you had heard him pull from others in the adjacent room of whatever hostel would allow a ghoul and his dog. 

The smell of viscera and tobacco cloud your senses, and you feel a gloved hand around the back of your neck, ripping you back to reality. “And be good for me while I’m gone.” The heat of his breath travels down your neck and straight between your thighs. 

You watch as he slinks away, stopping at the crumbling doorway—a dark shadow masking the top half of his face. “Oh and sweetheart,” he pulls a cigarette from one of the pockets of his duster, lighting it before he continued, “be a doll an’ rangle somethin’ up for dinner. Ain’t much in the mood for ass jerky t’night.” He flashes you a smile from underneath his hat before leaving, Dogmeat happily cantering after him. 

The house is larger than it looks on the inside and despite its current state of ruin, you could see it in all of its glory, like one of those fancy houses you see in the movies. People smiling and laughing around a table piled with food, dressed in the most beautiful clothes that shimmered against the light. Women with beautifully painted faces and clean, perfectly styled hair. Those movies always made you wonder about the world before the bombs, before everyone wanted to kill everyone else, before the fear of radiation. 

You find your way into the kitchen, cracked black and white tiles decorate the floor, dingy teal cabinets matching the Atomic Queen appliances hug the walls. You take care to peek behind every cabinet door checking for any food or water that might have been missed by whoever came through here last. You manage to find some unlabeled booze and canned food tucked behind the remains of some long abandoned animal nest, while it isn’t much at least you’ll be able to eat tonight. In another cabinet you find some Sugar Bombs, the box is dented and beat up but surprisingly unopened, lucky you. 

You move towards the back of the kitchen, finding yourself in a small dark room. The smell of mildew and rot is so strong your stomach would've turned if it wasn't already empty, it's so bad you couldn't bother to examine the shelves that lined the wall. You make a mental note to ask the Ghoul to check for loot, of the two of you, he had the stronger stomach to rifle through damn near anything. Pushing through the door to the other side, fresh air greets you, a welcomed relief to your lungs. The very last dregs of sunlight shine through the windows that made up the roof, tall green trees kiss the glass in a desperate attempt to break free. If it wasn't for the roof you would've sworn you accidentally found your way outside. 

With one hand on the holster of your knife you creep with the brick of the wall at your back, slowly examining the plants in front of you. You recognized a few, Daffodils, Marigolds, even Tato vines. However a majority were new to you;  large flowers the size of your head, and plants that seemed to grow from the roof. You spot some pear and apple trees with the largest fruits you’ve ever seen further into the room. As you found your way to the perpendicular wall, you noticed that it was made of a giant window. You remember seeing building plans for something similar in a pre-war book years ago, a glass house that kept the plants inside at the ideal temperature. For whatever reason the plants in this glass house were thriving on neglect, carrying on with life as if the bombs never dropped. 

BANG! 

The sound makes you drop to the ground, covering your head. Whatever it was you just hope it was coming from the Ghoul. 

Just as you're about to get up, something catches your eye. You crawl towards the brush to get a closer look, little red fruits perched on vines decorated with white flowers cover the dirt by your feet. You pluck one, rolling it between your fingers the skin is rough, yellow dots littering the surface of the red flesh. The sweet scent of the fruit travels to your nose and entices your palate you know better than to put anything in your mouth. Instead, you procure the small tin that you use to store food from your bag and fill it with the mystery fruit. 

BANG! 

Hastily you shove the container back in your bag, whatever was going on outside had you a fair bit more concerned now that you could hear Dogmeat barking wildly. You quickly get up and make your way out of the glass house, through the dark storage room, and past the kitchen. Not stopping until you've collided with a large solid mass, sending a plume of dust into the air as your ass hits the cushion of the couch. 

“You’re ‘sposed to say ‘scuse you after runnin’ into a fella sweetheart.” 

You look up, your eyes meet the dark shadow of the Ghoul's from under his hat. Yellowed teeth show through as he grins wide. You look down to see in his gloved hand are two Rad Rabbits, in the other an unopened can of purified water. Relief washes over you, knowing that your dinner would be more than just Cram and Sugar Bombs. 

“I believe a thank you's in order.” His stupid handsome grin growing even wider. Clearly proud of himself despite him having taken down much harder prey. 

You glare at him before softening, in some way, you feel like this is his way of apologizing for earlier. Any time he pissed you off he would at least make up for it with his actions. Stolen stimpak? Within the next day, you'd find it replaced along with a bag of RadAway. A few bottle caps would find their way into your bag too, when you brought it up to him he'd deny it, telling you to keep a better eye on your shit.

“Thank you,” you pause, it just dawned on you that you didn't know his name. He was the Ghoul, the Cowboy, your escort across the wasteland. But no name to attach to him. You fish for a polite title for him, and if you knew him better you would've punctuated your gratitude with a kiss, yet the older man didn't seem like one for physical contact. “Thank you, Sir.” Is what you land on. 

His smile fades as if your gratitude offends him and he tosses rabbit carcasses into your lap.

“Make sure Dogmeat gets her fair share. She found ‘em after all.” He says, patting the mutt beside him before making his way to the firepit, and lighting another cigarette. 

[etheribot]

5 tips for the work-at-home witch ദ്ദി(˵ •̀ ᴗ - ˵ ) ✧

when i'm not witching around, i actually have a day job! my job is primarily a work from home job, spending my days alone in my room writing reports and reading legal documents... it gets stale (●´⌓`●) this is a list of some little witchy things i do to keep my head on straight and prevent myself from going mad and impulsively quitting my job!

some of these tips might also work for students!

you might have to switch it up a bit, but some of these tips could help you get through homeschooling, digital learning days, or homework.

₊˚⊹♡ 1. light a candle ♡⊹˚₊

one of the first things i do when i begin work for the day is to light a simple votive candle. the element of fire is a strong element, and by lighting a candle you can harness the energetic energy of the flame. the goal of lighting a candle while you work is to keep yourself "fired up" per say ᕙ(⇀‸↼‶)ᕗ . light the candle with the intention of remaining motivated and energized. for extra effectiveness, you could dress the candle with herbs that also have energizing metaphysical properties. (remember, though, always double check that your herbs are safe to burn!)

₊˚⊹♡ 2. use a sigil ♡⊹˚₊

sigils are an extremely simple yet effective way to use magick! personally, i like to draw the sigil on the back of my dominant (or "working hand") with a non-permanent marker. if you follow this method, be sure to wash it off once you've finished work for the day! leaving a sigil on your body too long can be a bit draining in my personal experience.

if you're more artsy, you could make a piece of art out of a sigil to keep on your desk. a painting, a piece of embroidery, a sketch, or even some digital art done and turned into your desktop wallpaper (tech witches would love that, i feel.)!

i personally like to make my sigils for work out of phrases like "may i work efficiently", "may my work be done properly", but & "may information come easily to me".

₊˚⊹♡ 3. money bowl ♡⊹˚₊

i actually haven't done this yet (˃ᆺ˂) it's a spell i plan to do during the next full moon.

but! the idea of a money bowl is to essentially bring more money in to your life. if you're looking for a promotion or a pay raise, a money bowl on your desk certainly won't hurt!

₊˚⊹♡ 4. work outside ♡⊹˚₊

if you're able, work somewhere other than you're typical working area at least once a week. coffee shops, libraries... even a different room in your house! the change of energy will keep you from feeling too stagnant.

i really recommend taking your work outside, if able. sometimes, i print out a few documents i need to read and go sit out under a tree in my yard. sitting outside in nature not only helps to keep you grounded, but it also helps foster your connection with the local nature spirits. connecting to your local nature spirits AND getting your work done at the same time... talk about multitasking! (ᴗᵔᴥ���) if you can't work outside, then take time during your breaks to step outside. a small walk or even just sitting outside under the sun is enough to help keep your centered.

₊˚⊹♡ 5. enchant a watch ♡⊹˚₊

i have severe ADHD, but i also have severe severe severe anxiety. because of this, under my doctor's guidance, i can't take ADHD medicine for fear of my anxiety medicine not working effectively. since i'm rawdogging my ADHD i tend to have a hard time staying on schedule... so i've enchanted my watch!

i recommend using materials that promote focus and organization. ever since casting an enchantment on my watch, i've noticed an uptick in my overall productivity in all facets of my life - work included. i haven't missed a deadline, and while i still have a nasty habit of procrastinating, once i finally make the effort to begin work i find myself staying on schedule way easier than before.

that's it for now! if you have any questions or would like me to go further into detail about certain things, feel free to send me an ask! <3

[knightlycowboy]

Never Let Me Down Again - Joel Miller x Reader (Part One)

While searching cross-country for his brother, Joel stumbles across Ellie and you, her older sister. Persuaded into letting you two tag along, Joel is reminded that there are some good things left in the world.

A/N: This is a non-canon (timeline is fucked with), highly indulgent story. Based on Pedro Pascal's excellent daddyness in the HBO adaptation of The Last of Us. Also, I'm from the South so I get to make fun of it and beautify it.

Masterlist ->

AO3 Link♥

RATING: Mature - sexual pining, cursing, gore, canon-typical violence, blood, death of an animal (rabbit).

TAGS: Age Gap (reader is mid-twenties, Joel is mid-forties), Hurt/Comfort, Mutual Pining, Angst, Fluff, EVENTUAL SMUT, Happy Ending.

WC: 10.5k

Before the world ended, many a weekend had been spent sleeping under the stars, smelling the heated smoke of a campfire, and listening to your father tell stories of his wild childhood.

But now, in this diseased world, the quiet woodlands around you feel more like victorious kingdoms. 

Eight years ago, nature began a war, successfully colonizing mankind. Neither cities nor the country were safe, but at least the wilderness was fairer: a chance at freedom controlled only by fate and capability. 

You’ve grown to like this area, as far as you can like anywhere that isn’t fortified and full of supplies and weapons. Determining which QZs or communities weren’t run by a violent government or another type of evil had been too risky. You had her to think about. 

The scope of your rifle trains on a furry patch of gray and tan. The rabbit's fluffy head snaps up, preternaturally aware of the danger. As you breathe into the squeeze of the trigger, a bronze shape shifts into your field of vision. You relax your finger and adjust the scope to identify the intrusion.

A man. His hair is downy, a mixture of mahogany and gray, similar to your previous, smaller target. He, too, has a gun pointed at the doomed rabbit. He seems to feel the attention of your firearm as his gaze pinpoints you.

The man has guarded eyes the color of coffee. With a powerful build only broadened by his thick tawny jacket, he's imposing. But his unkempt hair, full lips, and strong jaw tug at your sensibilities.

You recognize the look of hunger on his face; the memory of that feeling ghosts through your gut in empathy. Your weapon lowers, and you tip your head toward the animal, signaling to the stranger.

The man returns your gesture in gratitude and fires. You back away, gun still at the ready, as he advances to retrieve his dinner. Being nice didn't mean that you had to let your guard down.

       ^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

"You bitches," the elderly woman shrieks. "Where's our fuckin' eggs?"

Your hands point skyward as you stare down a shotgun. It’s an antique double barrel. Your grandfather had one like it. You wonder where it is now.

Lightning fast, you kick out to the left, hooking Ellie’s leg, indicating she should get behind you.

"No, ma’am. We didn't take any of your eggs. We came up here to ask you honestly for some." You try to explain, backing up a step. Ellie’s hands are tense on your back, ready for whatever you tell her to do.

The small farm sits in a holler near the base of a mountain; a half day's walk from your failed rabbit hunt. It wasn’t much anymore - the barn had long ago fallen to splinters and the pens contained no livestock.

However, a handful of chickens cluck around in the front yard. Neither you nor Ellie could believe the sound as you approached the old, single-story farmhouse.

Your excitement quickly dissipated. Sickles, rusted farm equipment, and bleached bones you hadn't the time to identify were strung around the front porch. Mason jars filled with suspiciously-colored liquids lined the railings.

"Bullshit. We ain't seen not a single livin' person outside of us in years, and my eggs go missin' the same day you selfish brats appear? Pfft." 

What remains of the woman’s stringy hair flies about as she spits in the dirt. It was hard to believe she’s had a roof over her head all this time. Her once-white nightgown is splotchy and torn. The shotgun is too heavy for her, shaking in her frail arms.

“‘We?’ Ten bucks says she's living with a dead body," Ellie quips under her breath.

"John, get out here!" The woman calls over her shoulder.

"Lady, seriously, we'll just move on," you try again.

"JOHN!"

The silence of the woods had been disturbed by the woman’s accusations and was now replaced by the intimidating thumping and squeaking of a large man's footsteps on bowed, rotten wood.

A bear of a man, roughly mid-fifties (though it was hard to tell through the beard trailing to his chest and the ball cap on his head), stands in the doorway. In his right hand gleams a hammer.

"We like to save bullets," the old bitch sneers.

"Listen to me, lady, we did not take anything from you!" 

John steps slowly off the porch, his eyes trained on you. It was almost ridiculous. Did these people really think you would stand there while a man beat you to death with a hammer? You'd take a shotgun blast over that.

The problem was Ellie. The gun was a double-barreled shotgun which meant the woman only had two shells. If you could get her to fire and miss twice, both of you would have time to run. 

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

Under the cover of a pine tree, Joel Miller squats, watching the scene unfold. With three eggs in his hand, he feels mildly bad about you being blamed for their disappearance. Especially since he recognizes you as the girl who gave up a rabbit for him. 

Joel hears the woman call you thieves and shakes his head. Honestly, the old woman should be on-her-knees-grateful he didn’t take a whole fuckin' chicken. As he watches, he notices that she can barely hold the shotgun. 

They’ll be fine. 

His knees crack as he straightens and turns to leave, but then the shrieking echo of her calling for a man makes him pause. Joel didn’t like the odds so much anymore. He sees the look on the gun-wielding granny’s face and concludes that something far worse than justice for egg theft had fermented in these hillbillies' minds.

Joel's sharp eyes examine you. He can see the gears turning in your head, the plan forming in your mind. Gut feelings and snap judgments were important when they were the difference between life and death. Joel had become adept at both. Joel’s snap judgment was that you were capable. Smart. He figured you probably would be okay without his help, but his conscience grabs hold of him. 

He owed you.

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

"A’right," a man's low, smooth voice commands. "No need for all this."

Fear drops a weight in your stomach. The voice came from behind you and you don't dare turn. Now you’re outnumbered. And if this man also has a gun, it’s truly game over.

You swallow down the crushing dread, trying not to cry. Guilt and desperation stab at you over your failure to protect your sister.

But as you look at the homeowners' faces, you're confused. John’s lip is curled into a snarl, and his mother shakily moves the gun back and forth between you and the newcomer.

You decide it's worth the risk. You rotate, and from your peripheral, you somehow recognize the figure stepping out from the twilit woods.

How is that possible? Everyone you've ever known - or even heard of - is dead.

"Put it down," the man's southern accent is clear. 

You try to place it subconsciously. The Carolinas? No, his accent is too soft on the vowels. Georgia, maybe?

Slowly, the old woman hunches over the gun as if to set it down, but instead pulls the trigger in the direction of the mystery man. The recoil sends her stumbling. The sound explodes in the clearing, conjoined by the concussion of the newcomer's firearm discharging. The shotgun clatters to the ground, along with the old woman. Blood pools in the grass around her head. 

John roars and charges the man who killed his mother. Dropping your arms, you cage Ellie behind you. John races past, single-minded.

Your savior calmly stands several yards away with a rifle in his hands. To your utter shock, it’s the man from your earlier rabbit hunt. 

How the fuck? 

He’s as unmoving as the surrounding mountains despite Big John barreling down on him. The man from the woods fires one shot. John drops to the ground with a sickening thud and a winded moan. Shot in the gut, he has a few moments to live.

"How're y'all keepin' chickens alive out here for eight years?"

"Fuck you, boy," John chokes up blood, sputtering. Then his breath rattles once, twice, and stops.

The scruffy stranger reaches into his pocket and pulls out a tan egg. "Haven’t had an egg in..." He retreats from that memory.

You snort good-naturedly, "Well, I was going to say ‘Nice to see you again,’ but that dampens my gratitude."

“Owed you for the rabbit, too” he explains. 

"What's he mean by that? What rabbit?" Ellie inputs.

You ignore her and laugh. “Why didn’t you take a whole chicken?” 

“What’m I gonna do with a live chicken?”

“Eat it.”

“Well, that wouldn’t have been very nice of me, would it?” He mutters, toeing John. “Sure would like to know how these idiots survived all this time without bein’ raided, though. This place isn’t that hidden. We both found it.” 

His suspicions were starting to sprout in you, too. “Maybe it wasn’t just those two. We should check the house. Might be good stuff in there.” But after the way this family looked and acted, you knew you were unlikely to find anything besides toads collected in jars.  

The brown-eyed man nods, "Yeah, guess so."

“What’s your name?” You inquire.

The man simply looks at you.

“So I can call if I need something.”

He sighs, hesitating.

“Joel,” he answers, his voice quick and deep. It suits him. Strong, fitting somehow. 

“Alright, Joel.” You give him your name. “Let’s get it over with - I’m getting the creeps out here, and I doubt it'll be better inside.” 

“Fuck me, I guess?” Ellie chimes in again now that a bit of trust has been established.

Joel looks at her, shocked, but addresses you: “She always talk like that?”

“Yeah, pretty much. You keep watch, El.” You point to the stump of a fallen tree. “Get comfy.”

The interior of the house is precisely what you expected. Dirt, decay, bugs, and stains cover every surface. Mold decorates several corners of the ceiling, and at least two walls have water damage, causing the old paint to swell and burst. The living room is cramped - a time capsule of trash litters the floor. You gleefully point out a crushed can of Vanilla Pepsi. 

“They released that like a month before it all went to shit,” you remember. “I loved that soda.” 

Your mind wanders, no longer seeing the house. Ellie was only six back then. You, just seventeen. You’d taken your younger sister out of school early. You’d bought that same soda and driven to a park, watching Ellie be a kid on the playground. 

How incredible the difference a few hours can make. It was painful to remember your parents, and you tried not to. When you left the house that morning, did you say goodbye properly? Did you hug your mom? It’s been too long to remember with certainty. 

An impatient voice slams you back into the present, “Can’t be cryin’ over trash all day.” 

You paw at a lonely tear with your sleeve. “You know damn well I wasn’t crying over trash.” 

He’s got his back to you as he leans to dig through a cabinet in the adjoining kitchen. In the center of the floor, an old rug makes a squelching noise when he steps on it.

“Can’t be cryin’ over that now, either,” he says with a glimmer of empathy, moving through the kitchen with a practiced sweep of his rifle. It reminds you that he, too, has a tragic backstory. Everyone does. 

You inhale deeply to collect yourself and regret it. You quickly pull the collar of your flannel over your nose. A sickly sweet smell permeates the place, as if the house itself were decomposing.

The floorboards, once a pretty oak, are black and squishy. The walls are yellow and the black-and-white photos framed down the hallway wall make the place seem even older than it is. This house is condemnable.

You sweep the other rooms, all of them in nearly unlivable conditions, and find nothing besides two equally disgusting beds. But it was strange. How were these people thriving? They must have friends. A compound nearby, a trader, some smuggling friends, someone.

You step out from the last bedroom and back into the long, yellow hallway. 

Joel stands in the living room, backlit by the open front door. He’s staring at a piece of paper in his hands like it’s a map to Atlantis. It might as well be.

“You good?” You ask as you advance on him, curious about his find. 

He looks up and his face, while unsmiling, is excited. “My brother’s on a damn beach.”

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

In the east, the sun rises over the hill. You’re awoken by the bright heat on your cheeks and eyelids. To your left, among the trees, you can hear fabric rustling and buckles snapping together. Joel must be packing up his gear. He’d slept as far away from the two of you as he could after making your deal. 

In the dying light of the previous evening, you had offered to watch his back and help procure food if he’d let you tag along to his brother’s camp.

Joel had let slip that this brother of his was a “joiner; joins every ‘good’ cause he can find” and whatever he was up to typically meant his location was safer than most. After aimlessly wandering for the last several years, you figure a destination would be good for Ellie. 

Groggily, you sit up and unzip your sleeping bag. Ellie’s arm is thrown over her face, yet to awaken from the natural alarm clock. You groan as you stand, your back not as young as it once was. Catching his attention, Joel lifts his pack and stomps toward you - or, maybe he’s just a big guy and I’m not used to staring at a man when he walks, you think amusedly.

He clears the tree line and asserts, “Need to go. If you’re still comin’, we’re gonna be slow, an’ it’s already a ways.” 

You disagree, “We’re not gonna slow you down. We both made it to that place,” you wave at the chicken coop down the hill, “at the same time, buddy.” 

“Technically, I got there first,” he argues. 

You suck your teeth, unwilling to battle technicalities this early in the morning. You move over to your sister and gently shake her arm.

“I didn’t sleep at all,” she moans.

“Yeah, El, welcome to life. Get up.”

She glares up at you, huffing, and rises from her makeshift bed. 

Joel stands with his hands on his hips, watching impassively. From under the curtain of your hair, as you squat to roll your bag, you take stock of him.

The lines radiating from the corners of his eyes and across his forehead tell you that he’s older than you by at least a decade, probably two, but the wavy, graying hair, solid build, and confident demeanor only add to your interest. His pack looks bulky and burdensome, but he carries it on his shoulders as though it weighs nothing. He’s hardened but kind enough to have felt in your debt. His red, faded plaid shirt is snug across his torso and his biceps. His hands are strong and capable. 

As you study his hands, you notice he wears a watch. It looks old, its face cracked, but your brief once-over isn’t enough to be sure. That would be odd if so.

Why wear an old, broken watch?

Maybe it was broken recently and he hasn’t noticed. But Joel didn’t seem like the type of man who wouldn't notice something like that, nor would he keep items of no use to him. Your eyebrows furrow. 

Maybe it’s sentimental.

You absentmindedly touch your necklace and your heart aches for him. That makes more sense. You have no proof besides a quick character study of the man, but you’re sure he wears that thing for the same reason you wear yours. 

Joel's mind swells with impatience, nearly telling you that he’s leaving without you several times despite it taking you less than five minutes to pack. As he opens his mouth to speak his mind, you rise from your squatted position. 

Since you'd already been staring, you make eye contact with him. Your warm smile brands him. Joel blinks twice, his bad mood disarmed. He has no idea how long it's been since someone genuinely smiled at him.

“Uh,” Joel clears his throat, “Okay. We’re goin’ east.”

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

It has been silent for several hours at this point. Hiking uphill was strenuous no matter the athletic ability, and talking was out of the question. Your head hangs as you focus on your two feet crunching upon the dead leaves and brambles. Dead twigs scratch at your boots. 

You might’ve been embarrassed about your lethargy if Joel hadn’t been worse. His legs actually stomp, determined to get where they're going. He had been ahead when you first started this morning, but now he was level with you. You couldn’t blame him. He was in excellent shape, but this was exhausting. 

“Wanna - take a break?” You push out the words between breaths. 

From under his hooded eyes, he throws a sidelong glance at you, unsure if you’re mocking him. He looks over his shoulder at Ellie. She throws him a thumbs-up. 

“She’s a baby. We’re not,” you tell him. 

He snorts and you want to believe his lip twitches. “What are you - twenty-two?” 

“No,” you answer. He snorts again in disbelief. You continue, “I haven’t been twenty-two in a while.” 

“It was, like, a few years ago,” Ellie interjects. Her face is amused. She knows.

“A few years is a long time out here. Especially on my poor back.” You glare at her.

Due to the incline of the earth, you plant your legs to keep yourself from tumbling down the hill. Joel follows suit, sitting down where he’d been standing. You take a swig from your canteen, the cold water almost painful to your parched throat.

Joel paces his breath. His heart begins to slow and his body relaxes before his peace is ended by Ellie.

“So, Joel, what’re you doing out here? So far from your home… of…?” 

Her arms are propped on her knees, her chin resting on her folded hands. It isn’t a polite question though she asks it with innocence. She's as curious about him and his accent as you are. 

It was rare to meet someone out here that wasn’t an automatic enemy, so Joel couldn’t blame your sister too much for asking. He’s still irritated by it. 

“I'm transporting cargo.”

“What cargo? Something cool?”

Joel motions between you and Ellie.

“No, dude, I mean where are you from and what were you doing before you ran into us.” She sounds exasperated.

“Nothin' for you to be worried about,” Joel answers with honesty and finality.

Ellie holds up her hands in surrender, “Hey, I was just curious. We’ve never met a man like you out here is all.” 

Joel wants to let that go in one ear and out the other, and he doesn’t comment on it, but internally he feels a spasm of some long-forgotten emotion. A man like him? A smuggler, a criminal, a murderer? Sure she has. 

             ^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

A few, long days later, Ellie tries again.

"Georgia?" She quizzes. She gets no answer from the wall of Joel's back. She tries again:

"Florida?"

Joel snorts. "No." 

"Texas?" You finally guess.

Joel freezes his face to prevent giving anything away, but that's his biggest tell. Walking near him, you can see his mouth twitch, too.

"Ah. So, a cowboy," you say slyly. "The best kind of southerner." 

Joel scoffs, not wanting the praise. "Wasn't no cowboy."

"What'd you do? If you don't mind me asking."

"I do mind." He successfully shuts you up.

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

“I’ve always liked North Carolina,” you offer to no one in particular. 

It’s been five days of walking in this new triad. Joel sighs. You and your sister talk so much. He refuses to acknowledge the part of him that would 've enjoyed the banter.

As the three of you plod along, the wind picks up and the Carolina pines creak in response.

“You’ve never been here before,” Ellie accuses. 

All you can see is Joel’s broad back as the two of you follow him down the empty road, but he might’ve shaken his head at the petty argument. 

The freeways and interstates were impossible to walk down due to the number of cars, but these state back roads were almost pleasant. Few people had evacuated this way, but occasionally you'd pass a long-abandoned car.

“I know, stupid. I saw pictures.” You might be her guardian, but you’re still sisters. 

“Hey Joel, have you ever been here before?” Ellie goes over your head.

A single head shake. 

“Is the beach nice?” She continues.

Joel stops, half-turns, and looks over his shoulder. One eyebrow is raised as he deadpans, “You wan’ me to tell your fortune, too?”

Ellie rolls her eyes. “But you’re old. You were around before. Surely you know more than she does.” She jerks her thumb in your direction. 

Joel’s eyes flick to you, then he abruptly turns back around. He hoists his bag higher onto his shoulder and continues walking.

“I was basically an adult on outbreak day, Ellie.” You mouth at her: What the fuck are you doing? 

Why do you care? She mouths back, I think you like him.

She punctuates her statement by pointing at you, then his broad back. She curls her arms as if she were in a body-building competition. Your cheeks flush.

He - is - helping us! You wave your hands dramatically, semi-mocking her and instantly feeling less mature for the motion.

Oh, yeah, out of the goodness of his lil’ heart? She looks incredulous. 

Maybe! Your eyes widen, trying to convince her.

You could believe it. Sure, he had a rough exterior, and you doubted he’d be throwing his ass on the line for you again, but he was decent enough to give one or two shits.

Ellie belts one short laugh, easily mistaken for a cry of alarm which causes Joel to whirl around sharply. His large, dark eyes dart behind and to either side before he realizes you’d just been communicating between yourselves. He says nothing, his expression once again that of a disappointed parent.

“Sorry. Thought of a… great joke.” Ellie bites her cheek to quell the laughter in her throat. 

Your younger sister is a horrible liar. Ellie had been banned from all diplomatic jobs required for survival. If it required white lies, good lies, or bad lies, the job fell to you. 

Joel grimaces, “Well, keep it to yourself.”

Ellie salutes with her first two fingers; Joel turns away once more, only partly curious as to what you’d been talking about. It made him miss his brother. Made him miss laughing with his brother. The kid sure was a pain-in-the-ass right-fighter, but god, he loved him.

A few hours later, Ellie catches you admiring the fit of Joel’s jeans. In your defense, his red flannel had ridden up underneath his backpack like a velvet stage curtain. His brown leather belt lined the edge of his deeply-tanned skin. The colors look so warm - he looks so warm. It’s such a pathetic thought and you feel an insane desire to giggle. You clamp a hand over your mouth, and Ellie slaps you on the arm.

“You’re so obvious,” she whispers. “Are you okay?” She’s half-serious, half-mocking, but at the mention of it, you do a mental calculation and realize something. 

“No, I’m losing it. I’m gonna need to find some water. Been a couple of days,” you frown. 

Joel must've heard you because he stops and pulls out his map.

“Says there’s a creek running just south of us,” he leans against the first car (crashed and unusable, of course) you'd seen in nearly an hour. He nods toward the woods, tapping the map against his thigh. You grab Ellie by the hand, and trek in the direction he’d indicated. 

While you’re gone, Joel interrogates the map. How in the sweet fuck did he get this lucky? If he had to guess, he’d say that Tommy had either given those hillbillies this map in case they needed to find him (Tradin', maybe? Or to give them a place to retreat to?), or they had stolen the map from someone else who had it for the same reasons.

It didn’t matter, really; all Joel cares about is that Tommy’s name and handwriting had circled a spot near the coast. At least a ten-day walk, probably more; he sighs. 

Joel lifts his eyes to the moody sky. The breeze cools the sweaty, tan skin of his throat. Joel closes his eyes, allowing himself a moment of calm. 

Projected on his eyelids, he sees you lowering your gun amongst the trees, allowing him to have the rabbit. You’d been there first. Food wasn’t something people compromised on and yet… you’d had mercy on him. A stranger. 

His eyes fly open and he shakes his shoulders, unhappy about the squirming feeling inside him. 

Since he'd met you the second time, you’d talked more than he’d heard anyone speak in over a month. 

“Our parents used to take us into the woods and announce that we had to ‘Fend for ourselves.’ It was a fun exercise - at the time. We learned how to fish and hunt and gather berries or mushrooms or edible plants, and it was always this big adventure. We’d pile everything next to our campfire and my dad would say-”

“Eatin’ goooooood t’night!” Ellie finished the story in your father’s inflection, a tinge of sadness around the sound. You’d nudged her shoulder in camaraderie.

 Joel had yet to smile or talk about himself. The two of you asked enough questions, but he did his best to ignore them. He was completely confused as to your gaiety. 

You hadn’t lost as much of your social nature as you believed. Joel supposed having your sister by your side constantly would go far in preserving your pre-outbreak self. 

He’d been on his own too long. That was another reason he hadn’t denied your suggestion to follow him to the coast. The accompaniment of two unreasonably optimistic people caused him anxiety, but having experienced companions he could trust (and, inexplicably, he did feel that he could trust you) would always be invaluable. 

Joel had formed another snap judgment about you: you’re naive. He couldn’t understand how that was possible, though, and he almost felt guilty for even thinking it. You have survived with the added pressure of a dependant for eight years in this shit sandwich of a world. How could you have done that if you were naive? 

But his own eyes saw your willingness to give up food, your honesty in trying to ask for eggs, and now your blind trust in his guiding you three.

You needed an objective partner. He was willing to be such temporarily, and wherever Tommy was would be a safe place for you and your sister. 

You return a little while later clearly unhappy. Ellie, fighting a self-conscious smile, brings up the rear. She’d taunted you more about your infatuation with ‘your savior,’ as she’d called him. Which, of course, he wasn’t. Technically, he was the reason you’d gotten into trouble in the first place. 

You'd explained to Ellie that he was like a new toy. Different, interesting, and unthreatening. 

Well, sort of. 

You ring out the ends of your hair as Joel asks, tilting his chin up, “What happened?”

“Accidentally tipped her into the stream,” Ellie answers, patting your elbow apologetically. “I was just trying to nudge her as a joke but -”

“I slipped on the moss.” You finish for her. Since you were able to catch your fall, you hadn’t been soaked, but you had fallen on your knees and part of your hair had swung into the creek bed.

Joel lowers his eyebrows. You could’ve been hurt, or come down with pneumonia had you gotten your clothes wet. Spending winter nights in sleeping bags wasn’t the haven you wished and doing it wet may have killed you.

Joel eyes Ellie. Her cheek is twitching as if she’s nervously biting the inside of it, and her hands twist in her lap as she plunks down on the ground. 

She feels bad. Good. He was assessing a threat. If the kid was so wanton about causing problems, he’d re-evaluate this deal. But no: Just a kid actin’ like one. 

“Sun’ll be down in about an hour. Might as well set up shop here.”

“That's cool with me - it’s a nice view,” you can’t help but observe. And you’re right. The old state highway curves around and down a small, rolling mountain. Old farms divvy up the valley below like a patchwork quilt. 

Uncaring about the cliche, you’re struck by the sight. So many people spent their lives looking for a purpose. Thrills? Surviving? Power? You may be young, but you saw the answer every day, and you see it now. Your eyes drink in the blue ridges of the hazy mountains and the safe greenness that was alien to so many who sequestered in the QZs. 

Your head turns a fraction to see your sister stand and quirk her lips. Her hands land on her hips as she squints into the distance, thinking the same thing you had been. Beauty and love.

Your irritation is erased as if it had never been. Still smiling, you turn to Joel and ask, “Alright, you want to start the fire or set up the tent?”

Joel is staring at you. His face, so often canyoned by worry lines, was open to you now. Wide, coffee-colored eyes shine as he wonders who you are. How you could be so untroubled. 

But the look disappears the instant you register his curiosity. His brow drops and he grunts, “I’ll set up the tent.”

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

The next morning, your vision is filled with a utilitarian-green canvas ceiling. This tent belonged to your parents. It was one of your prized possessions, only pitching it when necessary, or whenever safe enough.

Later, you would convince yourself your cold, wet hair had been what led you to whip out the tent that night, not the inherent security of Joel’s presence. He, of course, had remained outside the tent despite it being just big enough to squeeze the three of you. You wouldn’t have let him inside, anyway. Trusting a man only went so far when it concerned your baby sister.

A crackling sound licks your ears and you smell smoke. You fight your way out of your sleeping bag and unzip the tent.

Joel is tired. He’s wearing his heavy jacket in the chill of the morning, and the biting breeze tussles with his already windswept hair. His eyes meet yours and he thins his lips in greeting. His lackluster "good morning" notwithstanding, he looked simultaneously soft and rough - in your opinion, exactly how a man should. 

He looks so fucking good. Your stomach somersaults in response. Wonder if I’d be this easy if the world hadn’t died, you laugh at yourself.

"Caught another rabbit. Here,” Joel leans, plucking a small piece of cooked meat from a roasting stick. 

You stride over to him and take the hot food from his outstretched hand. Sitting down next to him, your warm fingers graze his cold ones. Joel leans back, retreating a short distance. 

“Mmm, been a while since I’ve had rabbit,” you nod your head in thanks and plop the bite into your mouth. It burns your tongue for a moment, but you let it, imagining that it’s heating your entire body. 

“Can’t say the same,” he replies, then can’t help but ask: “Why’d you do it?” 

It’s been gnawing at him ever since. Joel’s concluded that you’re a good person. Too good, in fact, and you had your sister to think about. How could you put him - a random man - over your reliant sister? You were a walking dichotomy. Happy when this world is unhappy, kind when this world is unkind, trusting but alive.

“You were hungry,” you answer simply, shrugging. Humanity is rare now, and therefore precious. 

That doesn’t satisfy him in the least. “And you weren’t? And…” he doesn’t want to use Ellie’s name, it feels too friendly. “Your sister?” 

This time you turn your face to look up at him. He’s so much taller, so much larger than you, even sitting down. His chin is licked by the orange glow of the flames. The sun has started to rise over the mountain ridge behind him, recoloring his jacket from brown to gold. 

Apocalypse or not, he's fucking hot. You had the answer to your earlier thought. Dwindled pool of men? Who cares when he looks like that?

“We had food. I’d found a few houses a couple of days before and we still had, like, two or three granola bars and some berries.” You turn your face away to the view beyond your encampment. 

Joel blinks twice in disbelief. A couple goddamn granola bars?

“You need to be a better guardian,” he reprimands you.

Your head snaps to him, a look of shocked anger coloring your face. “What?” 

Joel looks down toward the valley where your eyes had been peacefully resting a moment earlier. “You can’t think about other people when you have her to worry about.” 

“I’ve kept us alive for almost a fucking decade, Joel. I know what to do.” You sneer his name and stand. 

“Listen, I appreciated it. You backin’ off the bunny. But I’m just saying, that girl’s gotta be your priority. You have to be your priority.” 

Joel doesn't know why he cares. Or at least, he wants to pretend that he doesn't know. He clamps his lips shut. 

“Thanks for the advice,” you say acidly, “I’d love to see you raise a kid through this.” 

You watch as his jaw ticks, as he looks away at your words, but you’re too angry to analyze that at the moment. 

“Teaching her that we can still be good people is almost as important as surviving. I don’t need to justify myself to you, but I'll warn you, in case you think you can take advantage of us: I’ve killed for her. I have done awful, horrible things. Things I see at night when I try to sleep. Things you’d probably be proud of.”

A statement meant to hurt him.

“But you go ahead and judge me from your fucking high horse.” 

Joel’s eyes never meet yours, but they involuntarily trail after you as you disappear into the tent, zipping it shut with as much violence as possible.

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

Joel doesn’t apologize. Neither one of you speaks during the trudge down into the valley. The silence is broken only by the breathing and grunting of descending a steep hill. You glance back at your little sister and she grins at you. The answer to Joel’s question was so obvious. How could you sink into despair when you had her? You answer her grin.

“Oh, good, I thought maybe I snored too loud or something.” 

You laugh, “What?”

“You’re acting all,” she scrunches her eyebrows, “pissed. I haven’t seen you this mad since that guy in Philadelphia last year.” 

“That guy was twice my age and I was downright angelic to him,” you grimace. 

“You never told me what he said about me,” she pushes. 

You stop and look at her, certain that Joel had kept walking. That was fine with you. He could keep going.

“What that motherfucker said was so vile, I’m not going to dirty my mouth by repeating it.” 

“Dude... you stabbed him in the balls. I saw that. So violence is fine for me to see, but I don’t get to know the dirty joke that made you mad?” Ellie asks, genuinely curious. 

Joel’s sonorous voice answers from right behind you, “Violence is necessary. The only reason we’re all still here. As a kid… no, you shouldn’t have to get used to it, but that’s not an option anymore. Perverts, you don’t have to get used to - so you shouldn’t.” 

Your head turns sharply to look at him, taken by surprise. He backed you up. His explanation isn’t entirely articulate, but Ellie seems to understand. It’s also the longest he’s spoken to her. He catches your eye briefly, then continues down the road. Ellie grabs for your hand.

What’s going on?

She mouths, seeing too much for your liking.

Nothing.

Your eyes are wide, convincing, as you reply. You once read that liars tend to make too much eye contact, or none at all. Looks like you’re the former.

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

The ear-splitting crack of a firearm echoes through the sparse valley. Two dilapidated houses sit on either side: one next to the road and nearly destroyed by fire; the other, a pale blue, one-floor ranch style, sits on a steep incline slightly back from the road, and from its living room window comes the flash of a muzzle. 

There is no need to think. Your brain automatically identifies both the location of the shooter and your closest cover. Your hand clasps around Ellie’s wrist and you sprint to the right, up the burnt stone steps, and into the blackened house. 

Some timbers still stand, and some crumbling walls as well, but your goal is through what used to be the kitchen and down behind the back of the house’s foundation. As you skirt around a piece of drywall in the kitchen,  a bullet blasts into it, sending powder and small chunks into the air. 

A short scream escapes you in surprise, but you yank Ellie down the back steps and behind cover. Joel is there a heartbeat later, his weapon already in hand. He sits back against the concrete slab, his face alight with frustration.

“Damn,” you tell him like this is a minor inconvenience, though your heart is hammering like a carpenter. 

His eyes fall to the gun in your hand and a deep chasm appears between his eyebrows. No, you glance down, he wasn’t looking at your gun but at your arm. A red substance? Blood? 

Your head whips to your sister, but she’s looking at you with concern. Your head snaps back toward Joel. 

“I’m shot?” You ask breathlessly. Then - bless those adrenaline chemicals, they did their best - then, the pain waves over you, through you. Your arm burns as your nerve endings erupt. That piece of shit had shot you through the forearm. 

Joel examines the bloody mess, then his calloused hand rips a strip off his undershirt and loops it around your arm. You grind your teeth to bear the pain as he tightens the fabric, but darkness offers to take you away from it anyway. Joel ties it off and the darkness retreats.

The bullet’s path hadn’t gone through your arm but across it, cutting a gaping trench in your flesh. That’s good. No digging for gold necessary. The shots continue at a slower rate, intentionally keeping you three pinned down. 

“It’s not that bad,” Joel drops his head to steal your attention, his eyes intensely boring into yours. “Hey, listen. It’s not bad. Can you wiggle your fingers?”

You shake your head, eyes filling with tears before you even try, the pain so all-consuming. But your fingers curl when you command. 

“Guess so,” you groan.

“Right. Not that bad,” he cannot let you panic now. “You’re not a lefty, anyway. You can shoot?” 

Inhaling, you nod. Words were an unnecessary use of energy. His eyes continue pouring into your own for a moment, willing you strength.

“This is my valley!” A man’s booming voice announces. He sounds much closer than the seventy yards between the two houses. “We're not going to no concentration camps!”

Joel finally looks away from you and slowly raises his head over the edge of the concrete foundation. A tall man around Joel’s age stands in full view. Based on the man’s pronouncement, he doesn’t seem to have a complete grasp of reality. 

Joel thinks about answering. He thinks about telling the man that you three meant him no harm, that you were only passing through. Joel doesn’t feel like killing today. 

But then he looks down and his eyes snag on your face. He feels your pain, sees your terror, and it wrenches something loose in his chest. 

You’d done nothing wrong, you were innocent and this man just shot you. You could still die from an infection or blood loss. This man might’ve just killed you. Joel’s jaw sets so angrily that you hear his teeth grit. 

As his thoughts catch up with him, Joel’s rifle fires twice. One bullet tears through the shooter’s center of mass. Joel watches the man stumble, fall. If he strained his ears, he could probably hear the man’s last pained breaths. 

Instead, he stands and rushes through the burnt debris, taking shelter behind a small tree before deciding the shooter is alone. You call after him quietly, unhappy he went alone. He cautiously starts up the driveway. You groan in resolution as you force yourself to your feet. 

Heavily breathing, Joel kicks away the gun from the now-deceased man and busts through the ripped screen door. It’s incredibly dim, and the air is heavy. Bedsheets cover the windows and Joel’s eyes aren’t as young as they used to be. He notices the house is relatively clean. The baseboards are layered in dust, but there is a decent couch, blankets folded in a neat pile, and books neatly lined up on the shelf. Joel turns the corner to the hallway and, finding it clear, slowly treads down the carpeted path. 

The bathroom door creaks once as he pushes it open with his boot. A blue shag rug, gray walls, and a clean sink greet him, but his attention focuses on the medicine cabinet. He strides forward, his gun in one hand as he searches through the cabinet. 

Ibuprofen. Helpful.

Tums.

Nail clippers.

Saline solution. He snatches the clear bottle from its dusty place, a satisfied smirk.

Menstrual pads? Could be helpful if this fucker ain’t got a goddamn bandage. Er, maybe helpful anyway?

But then Joel sees the red cross. He picks up the white case, cracking it open just to check. Yep, bandages. You were going to need stitches, too. 

Needle an’ thread; he turns away from the cabinet.

“Joel?” You ask soberly, standing out of view beside the doorway. You didn’t want to startle him and have him shoot you, too. His stomach lurches at the tone of your voice. He chalks it up to you getting the drop on him. 

“Yeah. Y’alright?” His boots clomp to the doorway and he tilts his head down to see you in the gloom. 

“Did you check the whole house?” You’re staring at the last door on the right and Joel doesn’t wonder why. A notepad is strung up next to it, and a pen is taped to the wall. A list of times and dates is scrawled down the cover page, and instinctively you know that there are many pages similarly marked. 

“In the bathroom,” Joel indicates behind him with a commanding whisper.

“No, I’m here to cover you,” you look at him like he’s stupid. 

Course. The fuck’s wrong with me? Joel moves forward. 

You take a position diagonal to the door, your right hand directing your weapon while your left arm is cradled to your chest. You ignore the throbbing, biting pain as best you can, and what you can’t ignore, you hope sharpens your senses. 

Joel twists the knob and kicks the heavy, wood door open so violently that it nearly swings back on itself. His flashlight casts a ghostly white pall over the room. You see nothing but a dresser from your position, so you move forward, following Joel into the room. It’s a master bedroom. Spacious, dusty, cold. 

Tomb-like, you observe.

The body on the bed confirms your thought. Joel’s flashlight trains on the corpse, and it’s clear that it had been an infected woman. She’s been dead for several months, probably nearer years, as the fungus grows throughout the bedroom. You slowly back out of the room in horror. 

Your eyes catch on the paper hanging next to the door:

November 4th, 2009 - I couldn’t stay away. I’m not sure she’s gone.

November 5th, 2009 - I think she ate a little bit today. Fed her roast beef and mashed potatoes.

November 6th, 2009 - She smiled at me today. I’m so relieved.

On and on, this man had cataloged his descent into madness. Daily, he had been visiting his wife. Feeding her, hoping she’d heal from the infection and return to him. How had he not managed to get infected? Your stomach heaves. 

Joel appears and gently clutches the upper portion of your uninjured arm to haul you out of there. His fingers accidentally brush the side of your breast and Joel fights down the sick thrill he feels.

“C’mon.” 

He guides you to the front porch and sits you down on the steps. The body of the man next to your looks unbitten, uninfected. He must’ve kept her in that room alone until the infection killed her. 

The two of you take a moment to breathe in clean air. It’s quiet. The sun is hidden behind the clouds now which casts the valley in a gray shadow. Ellie pops her head up from across the road.

Standing over you, Joel can’t help but like the way you look up at him. His imagination takes him by surprise: your soft skin under his calloused hands, your legs hooked around his waist, and the way you might tell him his own name. 

Fuck, you’re as perverted as the guy she stabbed. Joel grumbles something unintelligible to you and heads back inside the house.

Ellie’s sneakers slap on the pavement as she runs up the driveway, “Oh, god, are you okay?”

You manage a smile, “Yeah. Don’t go in there, though. It was disgusting. Guy shat everywhere.”

“I mean your arm, dumbass.” 

“It’s not as bad as I thought it’d be,” you lie again. 

Joel, exiting the house with the medical supplies, hears your lies with satisfaction. Maybe his earlier words had been unnecessary. Ellie was lucky to have you.

“I need to get that wound cleaned out but it’s gonna hurt like hell,” he explains. “You sit behind her,” he suggests to your sister and she eagerly positions herself to support you. 

“This is helpful of you considering we’re just cargo,” Ellie mutters. 

Joel ignores her and addresses you, “’m serious, it’s gonna be a bitch.”

“You think I’m such a wimp,” you feign offense.

“No, I don’t,” Joel states, opening the bottle of saline. He unfastens the makeshift bandage made from his shirt and, without warning, pours some of the bottle’s contents onto your wound. 

A strangled howl escapes. You force your body to confront the pain, then try to accept it and lean into your sister. Your breathing is ragged. Ellie wraps an arm around your middle, comforting you with a squeeze. 

“’m gonna stitch you up now. You’re still losin’ blood. It’ll hurt.” His face drops to a thoughtful frown. “Might be better if you don’t fight it,” he advises, giving you permission to lose consciousness.

You clench your teeth in preparation. Your right hand grasps Ellie’s arm around your waist, and this time, Joel waits until you’re ready. You meet his dark eyes and nod. He carefully takes your elbow in his left hand. Then he pierces the needle through your skin. 

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

The pain in your arm has subsided to a constant throb as your body restores itself. The wound was deep and would eventually leave a thick white scar. But for now, you keep it clean with the saline Joel had found. 

Four more days pass, and in that time Ellie wears Joel down even further. On the rare occasion when you three had traveled down a freeway, Ellie rescued a tattered book full of jokes and puns from a vacant car. 

Having known the girl her entire life, you’re not sure you’d ever seen her as happy as she was now. The first day she found it, she must’ve read four full pages aloud. 

Joel had put a stop to that. 

You’re grateful to Joel for his presence, but her happiness outweighs his opinion, so you encourage her. Was Joel amused or irritated? It was hard to tell. Sometimes you were certain that he always felt them together.

“Knock knock.” 

You oblige, “Who's there?"

“Amish.” 

“Amish who?”

“Really? You don't look like a shoe.”

That one earns a snort from you. “Not your best work, El.”

She dives back into the book, trying to get away with one more for the day, “Joel, your turn.”

“No.”

“I found the perfect one, I swear,” Ellie promises.

“No.”

“Knock knock.”

Joel swivels his head to glare at her. 

“C’mon, Joel,” she pleads. “Knock, knock.” He doesn’t budge.

“Who’s there?” You undermine the stoic man, smirking.

Ellie bites her lip to prevent her laughter, “Cargo!”

Joel makes a disbelieving scoff, “Wow.”

You snicker, enjoying Joel’s defeated face before you continue the joke: “Cargo who?” 

“No, car go ‘beep beep’.” Ellie delivers the lame punchline with gusto. 

Joel sets his hands on his hips and stares at the ground. He fights the tug of his cheek, then, in a moment that cements Joel in your heart, he shakes his head and huffs one, tiny laugh. 

"That was so fuckin' stupid."

“Ha!” Ellie whoops victoriously, a sound so pure that you start to laugh with her. “I told you.” 

Joel shakes his head more fervently. “I didn’t laugh. I snorted.”

“Same shit,” she retorts, still grinning.

“You get two of those a day, kid.” Joel holds up two fingers and resumes his path. 

          ^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

Two weeks after meeting Joel, or, if you went by Ellie’s timeline, ten chapters in her book later, the sound of the ocean fills your ears. Crossing the flat farmland of the piedmont was the worst part of the journey as there had been no landmarks, no wind, and scarce game. 

Now, there's a breeze you’ve never felt before. Your senses are full of the smell of salt, the whooping call of the few remaining gulls, and the clouds flitting by as though they have places to be. Your and Ellie’s wonder at the coast was not lost on Joel. He, too, feels lighter for the soaring sensation of the oceanside.

Ellie sits on a bench outside of an old tattoo shop. Your eyes scan the storefronts along the abandoned beachside tourist trap. This wasn’t a huge area. Probably a spot that only the locals came to, which is why the souvenir shops looked like they’d dried up several years before the outbreak. 

Joel has the map fully unfolded on the hood of a car. His palms are flat on either side of the document as he hunches over it, fully engrossed in determining the exact location he was supposed to find; and while he’s distracted, you are on high alert. 

In the best-case scenario, there are decent people waiting for you. At worst, there were infected around. Either way, you needed to be looking out for other bipeds. 

To Joel’s consternation, you weren’t seeing anything except old blockades, boarded-up windows, and trash that had yet to decompose blowing down the ghostly street. 

“Think there’s any decent food leftover in those restaurants?” Ellie asks having never eaten seafood.

“That would be a no,” you chuckle. “Seafood doesn’t keep long. And it stinks.”

“It kinda stinks out here sometimes,” Ellie observes.

“That would be what they make seafood out of,” Joel pipes up for the first time since breakfast, unintentionally mimicking your words.

“That’s what fish smells like?” Ellie’s eyes bug out of her head. “People ate that?” 

“So, their camp, settlement, compound - whatever the fuck it is - is at the end of this town. ‘Bout two miles that way,” Joel tilts his head. 

“So, go east more?” You joke. “When do we get to see a different needle on the compass?”

Joel bites the inside of his cheek, refusing you the satisfaction of a smile. “When we split up, I guess.” 

Joel pretends not to notice when both of your faces steel shut at his words. Better to let you two live your life somewhere safe where someone decent will watch your backs. It’d be best for all of you. He turns back to his map, pushing the two of you from his mind; he stares at the circled location trying to decipher what his brother would be doing here. 

  ^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

There’s nothing here. A day later, you’ve explored the length and breadth of the beachside town. There are no signs, no maintained fortifications, and no people. At one point there had been, though. Some walls had been erected between a few alleyways, creating a warren-like hideout. But they were empty. Joel had grown increasingly angry as the search went on. No one spoke. 

The discovery (or lack thereof) was disappointing for you and Ellie, but devastating to Joel; he went missing for most of the afternoon, returning just before sunset. Curiously, he seemed to be in a better mood.

After ensuring that no one had overlooked anything, you and Ellie follow Joel out onto the sand behind an ice cream shop. Ellie wouldn’t have mentioned it for a while to be mature, but she’d been dying to see the actual beach all day long. 

Joel sits on the soft, clean sand. A dune covered in beachgrass at his back, he relaxes. Clouds float by, and though it’s mostly sunny, the winter air is chilled further by the steady wind. Ellie continues out to the water, while you stand next to Joel. Thinking only of body heat, you lower yourself onto the sand as close to Joel as you dare.

“I’m sorry.” 

It feels inadequate. There are only a handful of reasons Joel’s brother wouldn’t be here and only one is hopeful.

“All this way. Two weeks of walkin’, and now I’m gonna have to go back out there,” Joel grumbles. 

Oh, okay. Optimism? He clearly wasn’t giving in to the idea that his brother could be dead, which relieves you. 

“Well, I’m sure you’ll find him. You’re the type of person who finds what he’s looking for,” you smile fondly at him. 

Joel’s heart spasms again. He wishes you’d stop smiling at him, and at the same time, he wishes you’d only ever smile at him. 

“Is our deal over?” He wonders. He hadn’t fulfilled his end yet, but the way you were talking made it seem like your partnership had ended.

“I’m not going to make you drag us cargo all over the United States.”

Joel smirks. “Technically, I ain't held up my end.”

“You and your technicalities. Technically,” you mock him, “I owe you. You’ve saved my ass twice now.”

“First time doesn’t count. I got you into that,” Joel actually laughs this time. It’s short and low, but you’re suddenly out of breath. His cheeks and eyes wrinkle when he grins, and he catches you staring. His grin fades.

A gust of icy wind blows by as you hide down in your thick flannel. You turn your attention from the captivating older man beside you to watch Ellie trying to skip rocks into the waves. She notices you and holds up both hands in a “What?” gesture. 

You shake your head and chuckle at her.

“She’s a good kid,” Joel agrees. 

Would this man ever cease to surprise you? He’s just spent two weeks walking and being tortured by Ellie’s joke book, with a single goal in mind - only to find the goalpost has moved; and he’s being friendly? 

“I’m pretty fond of her,” you reply. 

A lull in the conversation leads to a comfortable silence as you enjoy the sea air. 

Eventually, Joel speaks again. “’m sorry I said those things. It wasn’t my place.” Joel is turned away from you, looking out over the waves.

Though it’s been almost two weeks, you know which words he means. “I know I seem silly to you. Too frivolous and… optimistic, I guess, but I have and will always put her first.” 

Joel doesn’t reply. He’s tempted to deny your first and second statements, but he feels too exposed already. For fuck’s sake, he had been almost sad about the prospect of going your separate ways.

“Guess I’m easily pleased,” you muse.

“What?” Joel doesn’t know how to take that, but he knows the way he wants to take it.

“You know. The meaning of life and shit?” You wave your hand to indicate everything.

“Oh. Did you two plan this?”

“We - what?” 

“Ellie gave me a spiel earlier ‘bout how we need to find reasons to keep going or fightin’ or whatever the hell she said.” 

“She did?” you laugh. “I taught her well. I mean, what’s the point of this? Just surviving? Eating your next meal? Creating power-squabbling communities that end up getting people killed? Ration cards in the QZs? That sucks.”

Joel looks into the sand as if it has the answer. “I think most people lost their reasons a long time ago.” 

And you’re still staring at him as he checks his watch. His old, busted wristwatch that’s been telling only one time for eight years. 

“Yes, you’re right,” you agree, “but there are always other reasons. Sometimes it’s a bunch of small reasons combined with big ones, like the beauty of the earth and my sister for me. Or sunrises, or,” you indicate the waves rolling in front of you. “But there are always reasons. You find them if you look.” 

Taking more bravery than the first time you met an infected, you place your hand on Joel’s wrist, letting your thumb stroke once over his skin. He’s as warm as you hoped, and it makes you want to cry. You knew Joel’s coldness was a front. It’s his defense. 

Joel becomes a statue. It’s the first time you’ve touched him and his first thought is that he’s glad he took his jacket off. His second thought is that you should not feel so comfortable with him. You both needed to be able to separate without lingering emotion.

But, damn, this is like starin’ at the sun. Even when I look away I see her.

“Sorry.”

You remove your hand, not wanting to cause him distress.

“Ellie is right. People need reasons to continue fighting. Otherwise, you end up fighting for the wrong things, or giving up.”  

“You two are gonna love my brother - sound jus’ like him.” 

He earns another laugh from you. “Your brother sounds like a good guy.”

“He’s nothin’ like me,” Joel snorts good-naturedly.

“Well,” you murmur, “that’s not a point in his favor.” 

Joel hums in his chest. “Mm. It’s not?” 

Maybe lettin’ go once wouldn’t be so bad. She’s so... so - Joel realizes he’d leaned into you at some point. 

Your face bravely tilts up to study Joel’s reaction when you shyly shake your head. 

In disbelief, you watch as Joel’s eyes fall to your lips. Your heart pounds in your throat. His side is touching yours now and the contact radiates heat throughout your body. The world could end a second time and you wouldn’t notice. 

“I think it’s been too long since you’ve known a good man, because I sure ain't the standard,” Joel’s warning is coated in his thick accent. 

“I know a good man when I see one. That’s why I gave him my rabbit,” your voice is barely above a whisper, but Joel is so focused on you that he catches every inflection. 

“Hey, I’m hungry.” A teenager’s voice cuts the tension between you and Joel like a scythe. 

Both of you jump, heads jerking up to see Ellie standing much closer than you thought. 

“Um, I think Joel found some edible stuff from a general store.” You unwillingly turn back to him, “Is there enough to split? If not, I’ll take her foraging.” 

Joel’s looking out across the ocean again, refusing to meet your eyes. “Yeah. Yeah, there’s plenty.” 

Too close. Get a fuckin' grip. Joel watches you stand and walk Ellie back to the store you’d set camp in. He can’t help but watch as you walk away.

Wouldn’t be a one-time thing. I’d never leave. 

You think he’s a good man. Is it your naivety? Or do you mean that in spite of everything you can assume he’s done, he’s still capable of good?

Doesn’t matter. Doesn’t matter. 

Joel rips himself away from his daydream and from his pocket, he pulls the piece of paper he found earlier. Written in the NATO phonetic alphabet leftover from Tommy’s military days, the note is directed at Joel. Tommy’s handwriting is cramped and terrible, and it makes Joel grin.

If, by some crazy chance you’re reading this, J, we left. Sorry. Got wind of a group in WY that’s doing some real good. Leaving this note as a long shot. Miss you, man. 

™

He had found it in the store Tommy knew Joel couldn’t pass up. It was a cramped music store featuring acoustic guitars in the window. The shop set back a little from the main thoroughfare which kept it mostly untouched. The note had been taped to a guitar just like the one Joel owned a decade ago. 

It’d been eight years since Joel had cried, and he wouldn’t now, either, but he felt a sting. Wyoming is a long fuckin’ way. He felt frustrated at having walked for two weeks in the wrong direction. A brief, petty thought to abandon his goal of finding his brother crossed his mind - but it was one born of exhaustion and anger. 

The map he carried was an East Coast map. He’d have to find a map of the country, but by his estimation, he was in for a two-month walk minimum. A list of supplies began scrolling in his head, and he itemized everything.

The southeast had been less plundered than the rest of the US, so it’d be worth it to scour the outdoor supply places. Grocery stores were all but ransacked instantly, so he’d be less inclined to check those unless one seemed particularly promising.

You and Ellie. He swallows. He hadn’t forgotten - just had been avoiding it. Should he ask? You always had the opportunity to part ways at any moment, but did he dare extend the offer? 

Two months of puns from the kid. Two months of sufferin’ them as cargo. He looks at his hands to distract himself from a smirk.

More mouths to feed. It’d be nice not to be alone. He pushes this thought away in search of one he can work with.

More eyes, more hands. The older sister’s smart. And brave. She doesn’t even complain about her arm. And the kid… Kid’s a flat-out liability but she’s got her own charm.

Joel quiets his mind and lists the pros and cons. He makes his decision.

Continue->

[box-architecture]

"Sam?" Dream called from the other room.

"Yeah?" Sam looked up from his miniatures. He had been trying to get the tiny Blackstone looking just right-

"Have you been using our turtle-master pots?" Dream sounded… puzzled.

"I don't think so, no."

"You don't think so?"

Sam shrugged, though he knew it wouldn't be seen. "If I suddenly started sleepwalking maybe that version of me did."

Dream snorted. Sam preened; yes, he was very funny.

"I'll ask Punz then. A double chest of pots doesn't just disappear." Dream sighed, and that made Sam curious.

He set down his paintbrush and trotted into the storage rooms, where Dream was checking the other chests. The one labeled 'Turtle-Master' was thrown open, bare of its contents.

It was incredibly unusual for The Box be completely out of anything for longer than a week. Dream took painstaking measures keeping things stocked for every possible situation, and even when Punz managed to get him to relax, Sam couldn't help but sort things the way he preferred, giving Dream more room to store things. Punz remained exasperated, but they agreed to allow Sam his sorting system as long as he didn't sort their personal items. Sam was okay with that. Even if he really wanted to.

But of all the things to run out of, this was never even close to being on the list.

"Is that all that's missing?" Sam asked. Dream huffed and shut the fire res chest.

"Yeah, but who knows why."

"Maybe Punz wanted to go on an adventure." Sam suggested.

"I don't think he has the inventory space to go on an adventure with that many pots." Dream waved his hand at the empty chest. Which, yeah. Fair point.

"I'm sure we'll figure it out." Sam reassured him, walking up to press against him. "I can make new ones in the meantime."

Dreams arms came up to pull him in a hug. Sam melted into the warmth.

"No, I've got it. You were busy with your figures, you should go back to them."

"But I can help." Sam nuzzled him. "And I miss you."

Dream let out a small breath. He buried his face in Sam's hair, letting out another sigh. "We've been together all day."

"Not in the same room." Sam insisted. He gently pushed Dream back until he was pressing him against the wall, still hugging him. Keeping him safe. "Not in the same space."

Dream made a soft noise, tension draining, and Sam's heart was overcome with love.

Dream had been a healthy weight for a long time now- muscled, strong- but Sam could still carry him. Dream placed a small kiss on his neck, automatically settling into the hold like it was the most natural thing in the world. Sam couldn't help the purr beginning to rumble in his chest.

"Are you comfortable?" He asked.

"Always." Dream said simply. He placed another kiss, just slightly higher than the last. Sam flushed, nuzzling him back.

"Okay. I'm moving us now." Sam murmured.

He was going to take them outside into the grass. There was a sunlit spot just out of range of the house's pathing, warmed by the cloudless day. Their cave was wonderfully cool in the summertime, free from the worst of the heat with its small, low dripstone, but there were streams of light that broke through the ceiling and brought a warmth to their chosen spots. Sam was a simple man; who could blame him for clearing a little area for catnaps?

His love sighed comfortably as Sam adjusted him to open the door. It was a bit of a shuffle, but Sam was used to having his hands full. The thought tugged at him as he shut the door with his back paw. He carried out supplies a lot, did he need a Redstone door? Not at the entrance but maybe in a special area off to the side, like people who had garages-

"Ranboo? What are you doing?"

Sam was pulled out of his thoughts. Dream was staring at Ranboo, who was sitting in their low-quality lawn chair at the front of the house, as per usual. Sam scowled.

He did not like Ranboo at The Box.

However, his light- his love, his flightless angel- had said Ranboo needed a place to stay. So Sam would tolerate his presence. It was the honorable thing to do, regardless, since Sam had killed him that one time. Sam could be the bigger man.

"I'm on vacation." Ranboo said.

"But the water- are those the turtle-master potions?!" Dream exclaimed in disbelief.

Sam walked closer so Dream didn't have to twist around to properly see, and narrowed his eyes at the potion bottles littered around Ranboo like sticky soda cans. The majority of the pots seemed to have made their way into the kiddie pool that Ranboo was using for his feet.

"Come on in, the water's fine." Ranboo shrugged, and gently kicked his feet to let a bit of potion splash outside the pool.

Sam recoiled instinctively, jumping back and nearly losing his grip in the process. Dream yelped, but held on as steadily as he could until Sam readjusted him with an apologetic nuzzle. When Dream nuzzled back, Sam turned to Ranboo, growling; he made Sam almost drop Dream, like the menace he was.

"You are not a real cat." Ranboo stated dryly. "And that was not real water."

Sam's growls increased, but a calm, trusted hand cupped his cheek, and he leaned into it.

Dream smiled at him, before turning back to the vacationing menace. "Ranboo, you can't just take an entire double chest of potions; it's expensive."

Ranboo swirled the coconut drink in his hand. "I know, that's why I took the ones you don't use."

Sam glared, but Dream made an exasperated noise. "Can you at least- tell me? Next time you do this? So I don't look through the storage bins and think I'm going crazy?"

Ranboo tilted his head until his cheap Hawaiian themed sunglasses slid down the bridge of his nose, doing finger guns. The effect was slightly muted by the dark circles under his eyes and half-hearted manner in which he seemed to perform it.

"Right." Dream stopped holding Sam's face to pinch the bridge of his nose. "We'll talk about this more later. Idiot."

Ranboo took a sip of his drink, and Sam took this as a sign to go take his love somewhere safer, far away from the enderman and his blasphemous idea of a pool. The lake Sam made for their house was better anyway.

[utterfuckingchaos]

Pressure angst focused AU: 25a1/10052/25a1

The blacksite had been barren for years, any previous expendables had been long dead or gone. Any of the defenses had become broken from continued neglect, and the halls of the site had a thick fog covering the ground. Only three beings remain alive in what remains of the blacksite. Sebastian Solace, the defacto leader, the p.AI.nter, a barely still functional AI, and the shunned expendable, an ex-Urbanshade scientist who had made it down to the blacksite themselves.

The scientist was doing their best at keeping Sebastian and p.AI.nter alive. With the final experiment by the higher-ups at Urbanshade going so horribly wrong, they felt to redeem themselves in some way. Perhaps if they could rescue these two lost souls, then maybe they'd feel some sort of peace. It wasn't easy, the blacksite was in complete dissarray, Sebastian couldn't enter any of the water, and batteries to keep p.AI.nter running were starting to die out. The scientist wasn't safe either, as rations had ran out a while ago, and the corpses of various fish and mutated creatures were getting more and more sparse.

What was the worst was the cold. The final experiment that Urbanshade had done was an attempt to undo the effects of global warming. The scientist was left behind on many of the aspects, it wasn't their task after all. All they knew is that it went horribly wrong, and it seemed as if the sun had somehow vanished. It only took weeks for the earth to begin to freeze, and for most of humanity to die off along with it. The only survivors were those deep underground, and deep underwater. Much like the Scientist, and Sebastian. The Blacksite was built over the top of geothermal vents which aided in keeping the center of the base warm, which the Scientist and co were trying to reach. Most of the site had become flooded with freezing water and ice, rendering most paths towards the center impassable. So they were forced to take maintenance tunnels, root through break rooms for spare blankets or items they could start a fire with. Even now they had still not made it to the center, instead being forced to reside within a break room with a very rare functioning stove, and microwave.

"Ok, so if memory serves me right, all we need to do to get to the next break room is...another maintenance tunnel, and a small office. Should be clear, hopefully.." the Scientist mutters the last part under their breath, wiping a few strands of long greasy brown hair from their eyes.

"...aNd how can W-W-We be sure this one won't be f-f-f-f-f-f-f-f-frozen aga-in?" p.AI.nter catches on the word frozen, freezing up before finishing their message.

"Well, I'm not 100% sure, but those two areas were held deeper within the site away from the outside, so they should be fine-"

"Your tone doesn't inspire confidence, chupamedias" Sebastian, even though the scientist had saved him from freezing to death plenty of times, still deeply despised them. They were part of the monsters who had turned him into this thing, poked and prodded, and tore him apart on their table like a fucking toy. He was glad they didn't know spanish, he could insult them all he'd want, and just claim he was calling them some other, less offensive, name.

"H-Hey, I'm trying my best, ok? This place is falling apart, I can't help if I feel a bit stressed or worried, alright?" the scientist tries to defend themselves, but they shrink back under the harshness of Sebastian's tone, instead turning to look at the stove, a slab of some meat roasting on it.

They didn't know what the meat was from when they found a carcass half buried in some ice. It was red, and still somewhat fresh after it thawed. Just hoped it wasn't flesh from any dead expendables, Sebastian and the Scientist had already had their own breakdowns upon having to cave to cannibalism in these trying times. While Sebastian's breakdown was aggressive, him threatening to kill the scientist for their co-workers having made him lose his humanity, the scientists breakdown was calmer. They just sat in a corner, holding back vomit as they sobbed, feeling so guilty for having to eat another member of their own species. Neither Sebastian nor p.AI.nter gave any comfort.

After a few more minutes of silence, the Scientist stood up, and went to the slab of roasting meat, picking it up from the stove, and quickly cutting through it with a sharp shard of glass. 3/4ths of the meat would be placed in a box filled with salt, where other pieces of meat were drying out. The remaining 1/4th was sliced again only 1/5th of it going to the scientist, the other 4/5ths going to Sebastian. The group ate in silence, both relived with the taste of the meat being non-human. Once the food was done, the stove was left on, and the scientist got out Sebastian's bed. They got him one of the few intact sleeping bags, largest one they could find, along with the majority of the spare blankets. The scientist simply slept with a single thin blanket, and p.AI.nter's wired batteries, the heat from which would help them barely stay warm throughout their rest.

With the scientist quickly falling asleep, Sebastian looked over at them. He hated them, hated what they represented, but he felt a minuscule amount guilt and remorse. He's been given more bedding, food, protection, and clothing than the Scientist had given themselves. Up to this point, Sebastian hadn't bothered to give them anything. He thought about putting one of his blankets over them, but as he reached out to them, his extended arm triggered a flashback, his first sights of his transformation.

The sedative that the scientists had placed him under had worn off only a quarter of the way through the procedure. He didn't even get any other proper forms of anesthesia, so he felt everything. He woke up, feeling a scalpel being lowered into one of his eyes, and the pain of feeling his eye suddenly pop. With the faint strength he had, he raised an arm upwards, reaching for one of the scientists working on him. They looked at him with only mild annoyance, and motioned to a nurse. A needle was stuck into his side, and a mild sedative was injected, forcing his arm to fall back down. The last thing he'd see for months would be the scientist stood above him, lowering a scalpel into his other eye.

Sebastian shook his head, trying to get himself back into the now. Sweat already running down parts of his back and front, wherever splotchy patches of his remaining human skin remained. He lowers his arm, and turns away from the scientist. He didn't get any sleep that night.

[phr3ia]

Before It Ends (Jiyan x Fem!Reader) [Chapter 6 - Misunderstood]

"How the fuck did someone as clever and resourceful as you keep coming back looking like you got jumped in an alley by a group of Tacet Discords in the middle of the night?!"

Mortefi tried his best to remain professional with you, but he just couldn't handle it anymore. He stared in aggravation as he took in the bruises and cuts on your face, marring your cheeks as you grinned at him guiltily.

"Y/N. This is the seventhtime in a week, you have come to my lab looking like you got dragged through the nearest Tacet Field and then drowned in the waters outside the Academy!" he growled, as he walked towards you and grabbed your wrist firmly - not gently, because Mortefi had enough of you.

Mortefi pulled you towards the small area he'd made specifically to treat you. "Did you forget that you're supposed to heal the Rangers, not fight the TDs and let them beatyou into a pulp?"

Mortefi doesn't even bother letting you respond, his hand rising to cover your mouth. "No. Shut up. I've heard the arguments three times already." he grumbled, starting to painstakingly clean up your wounds before doing an Overclocking Diagnostic Report on you. "I swear to the Sentinels, it's like you purposefully go hurling yourself into every dangerous situation you can get into! Not even Chixia gets into this much trouble, and we both know how reckless she can get!"

Mortefi can feel the familiar burn of his mounting frustration, his scales warming against his chest as he grit his teeth and started to place bandages and patches over your bruises and cuts. "I swear to Jué, you're damn lucky I care about you, or I'd leave your dumbass to bleed on the Academy steps until Baizhi takes pity on you..."

"Here we go again, a complete change of attitude when no one else is around inside the Academy during nightime.. I prefer the morning Mortefi. He was much more level-headed." you said, trying to provoke him further. "And for your information, we were swarmed by Tacet Discords the whole day while distributing medical supplies in the Port City of Guixu. I had no other choice but to fight." you added, trying to explain your side.

Mortefi stared at you, stunned for barely a moment. Then the anger flared up quickly, causing the fire inside him to ignite and lick at his scales.

"'No other choice? You had plenty of choices, you just kept making the worst of them, every time. Plenty of opportunities to stay back and not get hurt." he growled, swiping your bandaged hand away from him to emphasize his words. "You're one of the best at what you do, you don't need to be proving yourself! And remember, we don't want you overexerting yourself and risking overclocking. Didn't the General remind you about that?"

"Yeah." you replied, with a slight pout on your face.

"For all the times I tell you to be safe, you keep doubling  down on reckless behavior!" He stood, taking a step away. "And yes, I was probably calmer in the morning, when your reckless ass wasn't bleeding all over my laboratory, and I wasn't given cause to worry about you for another goddamn day, yes?"

His voice rose, palpable anger bubbling under the surface of his words as he addressed you. "You may think you're helping, but here you are looking like this! Then you come in, grin on your face and act like you've done something grand when all you've managed to do is nearly get yourself killed!" He took a deep breath, trying to bring his anger back under control. As a Fusion Mutant Resonator, Mortefi's overexertion of his emotions could lead to him Overclocking. The last thing the Academy needed was for their head of the Branch of Tacetite Weaponry to lose control of his abilities.

"Jeez! Relax!" you said, patting his head. This reminded you of the incident where Mortefi overclocked in Desorock Highland, resulting in a major fire.

Mortefi stiffened as you reached up to pat his head. ""I'm not a child, and I certainly am not a puppy that you can pat on the head." He snapped, voice still thick with anger as he stared at you.

"Just...please, next time, try to remain a little bit smarter, a little bit more cautious. For me."

Mortefi couldn't look you in the eyes. Instead, he looked at your bandages, at the remnants of blood that clung to them. "Now stop antagonizing me, get on the table so I can begin examining you. I'll send word to the General and the others on your team about your condition, so no more fieldwork for a few days, got it?"

"These are just minor injuries. It's not like I'm in a life-or-death situation." you remarked, rolling your eyes at him.

"Mother entrusted you to my care. So please, Y/N, just listen to me this once." Mortefi's voice softened.

"Okay..." you sighed in defeat. Mortefi had always been tough on you, but you understood it was for your own good.

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

Both of you are from the New Federation. You are Mortefi's younger step-sister. His biological mother passed away when he was young, and his father remarried, making your mother his new wife.

You and Mortefi came from a noble family in the New Federation. His biological mother passed away when he was young, and his father remarried, bringing your mother into the family as his new wife. At first, Mortefi was not fond of having you as his younger step-sister, but he eventually grew to care for you. He was always protective of you, constantly watching out for your well-being.

You never had an issue growing up in the New Federation. However, you were disheartened by the way the nation handled the discrimination between Resonators and Non-Resonators. Your strong sense of justice was deeply troubled by living in a nation that was unjust to its citizens. The New Federation also takes pride in Science and Technology, to the extent that the experiments conducted were deemed immoral, a reality that Mortefi found intolerable.

This pushed you and Mortefi to leave the Nation over a decade ago and embark on a journey to Huanglong, where you could effectively utilize your knowledge and skills for the betterment of society. And the people here are unaware of your relationship with each other, except for the Magistrate. But it wasn't a secret worth keeping. Both of you were simply waiting for someone to ask about it.

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

"You're going to be out of commission for a few days. You'll need to bare with me. It's for your own good, and I'm the only one who knows how to do it right." Mortefi folded his arms, locking his gaze with yours, making sure you understood  his intentions.

"Now that you're evolving, we need to be cautious about everything. You are someone valuable, Doctor." Mortefi emphasized.

He looked at you with his piercing red eyes, slowly removing your clothing from your wounded areas. "If anything happened to you in the field, I'd never forgive myself. If you really want to make a difference, why not do it from a more stable position? This isn't just about staying safe, it's about being more effective in our goals." He spoke with care and concern, his voice gentle as he reprimanded you, easing the tension that had been between you.

"I never thought I would develop such skills. It's overwhelming and I feel frustrated that my body struggles to keep up. It just shows how weak I am." you commented, feeling disappointed in yourself.

"No, Y/N. You're not weak. It's normal to have trouble with adapting to new changes. you just need some guidance and practice. And you have that here in Huanglong. You have the General, Me and the others. You don't need self-depreciating thoughts, but self-improvement through practice and hard work. You are a mutant, your abilities are linked to your emotions and experiences. Your Tacet Mark is a powerful testament to the strength within you." He touched your Tacet Mark gently, his fingers tracing over the sensitive flesh. "You are, and always will have been, strong. Now, let's get this taken care of so you can prove it to me and the rest of the world." Mortefi squeezed your hand reassuringly.

After an hour of examination, he finally permitted you to leave. "Don't be too stubborn, alright?" he advised, raising an eyebrow. "Got it, Professor!" you replied, giving him a tight hug.

"Oh, sorry." Jiyan blurted out as he caught sight of you hugging Mortefi in the hallway.

"Jiyan?" you exclaimed, turning your head to face him as you released yourself from the embrace.

"General." Mortefi nodded to acknowledge his presence. "I didn't mean to interrupt you both." the General stated, gripping the hilt of his blade tightly, his hand trembled as if he had witnessed something that shattered him.

"It's okay!" you reassured Jiyan with a smile. "I'll see you tomorrow." you told Mortefi as you dragged Jiyan out of the Academy.

"What are you doing here? You were supposed to be at the Rearguard's Base." you asked, curious to know why he's here. "Is everything alright?" you inquired, noticing the General's unreadable expression.

A shaky breath escaped before his lips. "There was an emergency mission at a nearby village. But I took care of the situation before it got out of control." Jiyan's voice held an underlying tension as he tried to put on a brave face. 

"Thank goodness." Your worried frown smoothed out, returning to your usual, radiant smile. You hooked your arm through Jiyan's, giving him a squeeze.

"How did you know I was here?"

"I asked Xin Ye, and she informed me about what happened. I'm glad you're okay. I can see that Mortefi has been taking good care of you." Jiyan replied, though a hint of jealousy seemed to linger behind his words.

"Yeah, he does. My Overclock Diagnostic Report was normal, and he also helped me with my wounds." you said, touching the tacet mark on your chest.

Jiyan knew that every time Mortefi needed to diagnose you, your tacet mark had to be exposed, making him wonder how many times Mortefi had seen you without your shirt on. This realization left him feeling somewhat irritated.

"Hey, are you okay? You seem a bit off." Jiyan's demeanor shifted as if he were in a bad mood.

"I'm fine." he insisted, but he was no longer meeting your gaze, instead, his eyes focused on the ground. As he felt your grip on his arm tightening, it prompted Jiyan to look at you once more.

"Hey, Y/N. Can I ask you something?" Jiyan paused in his tracks to question you.

"Sure. What is it?"

"Do you like Mortefi? Are you guys dating?" he asked.

"What?" you replied with a snort, attempting to stifle your laughter, but you failed.

"What are you laughing at?" he asked, furrowing his brows.

"Dating?! Mortefi is my step-brother, you silly!" you replied with a grin, playfully slapping Jiyan's back.

"I thought he-..." Jiyan admitted to his error, his face heating up. He looked down, feeling embarrassed that he'd made such a mistake.

"Haha. No, he's my brother. Step-brother! We've been through a lot together since we were young."

For a brief moment, the silence settled between the two of you before Jiyan spoke again, sounding somewhat relieved. "So, you're not seeing anyone?"

"No, I'm not." you assured him.

And your response managed to bring a smile to the General's face.

════•⭐•════

End of Chapter 6 🥀...

[steeltraptrainer]

They are back in Yharnam proper. Have left the dream, far more aware of how likely it would be that they would be trapped. But htey had to soldier on. They would follow the plan they made two nights before. To go to Old Yharnam.

---

They find the Executioner before they open the doors to Old Yharnam. A man clad in incongruous off-white. When he faces them, Ferro can't help but hide a wince. One of his pupils is actively collapsing, and there clings a stink to him. Something barely there. Guts and blood and animal. It stinks.

"Why hello! You two are hunters, aren't you?" He tilts his head a bit, a far too easygoing smile on his face.

"The newest, yes." Giacomo nods slowly, and resists the urge to try and deepen his voice.

"Thought so! That's precisely how I started out! Oh, beg pardon, you may call me Alfred. Protege of Master Logarius, hunter of Vilebloods. So, what say you? Our prey might differ, but we are hunters, the three of us. Why not cooperate, and discuss the things we've learned?" That was a small stream of words right there.

"I... Sure. Why not-" Ferro is interrupted midway when the man grins wider.

"Oh-hoh! Very good, very good indeed! Take this, to celebrate our acquaintance. There must be oodles for us to share." Fire paper is thrust into Giacomo's hands, the teenager likely deemed the 'more responsible one' by Alfred.

"Who even says oodles?" Ferro mutters quietly, before shaking his head. "Right. Got anything to say about the Church? We're... outsiders." He practically expects the disdain already.

"Outsiders, you say? Well, you do know a little, otherwise you wouldn't have come here! As you know, the Healing Church is the fountainhead of blood healing. Well, I'm a simple hunter, quite unfamiliar with the ins and outs of the institution." He pauses, takes a breath. "But I have heard that the holy medium of blood healing is venerated in the main cathedral. And that councilors of the old church reside in the high stratum of the Cathedral Ward." He leans closer, wags one finger, then straightens again. "If you seek blood healing, and the church is willing, you should pay them a visit."

"Yeeah... Okay." His voice kind of grated on their ears. "Anything else you want to ask, Ferro?"

"Not really, no."

"No other questions from you two, then?" Alfred hums. "Well, if you ever have other questions, I will be here for a while. May we meet again, and may the good blood guide your way." They skedaddle. Fast.

"I don't like him."

"Same. Let's go get shot at. That's still better than talking to a fanatic."

---

The bottom of the entire area is dim. Dim, dark, and also kind of damp. Not a good damp. It stinks of gasoline and ash. Fire boosters. A singular lantern, one they light.

"You really wanna do this?" Giacomo adjusts his clothes a bit. He's getting better at dealing with the mask, he thinks. He gives Ferro a side-glance as he affixes the scarf of the garb around his face, presumably to block out the ash and dust awaiting them. They spent most of their day researching the area, to try and remember a map so they could just hurry on through.

"Yeah. We'll need allies, and places to rest. And resting on top of a tower with a gatling gun seems pretty safe."

"You just also want to see that thing up close, don't you?"

"Sue me." Ferro had been walking forwards as they talked, but now stops and runs a hand over the faded, torn paper on the closed door.

"This town is long abandoned. Hunters are not wanted here," Giacomo reads aloud. Then, he scoffs. "That sign won't stop me, because I can't read yharnam's tongue." He winks at Ferro, before leaning against a door. Something his boyfriend mirrors, all while laughing.

"You're awful, Momo."

"Nah, you love me."

"I do, but you're awful sometimes."

---

Djura had a bit of an idea that some foolish hunter would try to open the doors tonight. It's the night of the Hunt, capital H. It always makes his bones ache, and the remaining Moon Scent around him flare back up. He had seen the Crow flit around, and he thought it prudent not to get involved, not even when she set foot in Old Yharnam. This time, however, he does gear up for his warning. Two people tumble through the door, stumbling and small. And he smells the Moon from all this distance. Two. Two Moon-Scented hunters, huh? Fun... He leans against the spires of his tower, and extends his telescope. Those two look young, very young. One wears clothes like Gascoigne. Church hunter, maybe, The other one just has a generic hunter garb. Hm. Food for thought. They are looking around, and at least they don't have their weaponry drawn. He can still see the absolutely massive hunter's axe on the back of the plain garbed one.

"You there! Hunters!" His call makes them look up to him, the smaller, church-hunter one zeroing in on him with startling accuracy. Very interesting. It takes most visitors a while to find him. "Didn't you see the warning? Turn back at once." He coughs for a moment, ash in his throat, before continuing. "Old Yharnam, burned and abandoned by men, is now home only to beasts. They are of no harm to those above. Turn back..." He lets the words linger for a bit. "...or the hunter will face the hunt." Now to see what they would do...

---

"It's kind of impressive that you found him so fast, Ferro. Your hearing aids doing their work?"

"Yeah. it's nice, actually. They do their thing, and for once I don't get the stupid ass crystals while facing the horrors." Ferro shudders. "We won't turn back. But we also won't attack."

"Fine by me." Giacomo hums, a considering side-eye at Ferro. "How loud can you yell?"

"I... don't know. You want me to yell back?"

"I think you might have a better chance to get loud."

"But you're the one who's got experience in public speaking. You got a whole team with you."

"C'mon, you yell."

"Ugh, fine."

---

They did not move. Neither forward nor backwards. Curious. Djura leans closer, one arm propped up against his chin, the other keeping the telescope raised up.

"OYE!" Oh, that little church-hunter can get loud. "WE AIN'T HERE TO HUNT YOUR BEASTS! WE JUST WANT TO GET THROUGH!" Well, this is novel. Few of his 'visitors' ever bother even speaking up.

"Are ya, now?" Djura calls back, one arm slowly hanging over the spires of his tower. "You're mighty strange, little church-hunter! Most of your ilk has come to hunt!"

"I AIN'T FROM YOUR CHURCH! THAT'S JUST THE ONLY CLOTHING THAT FITS ME!" Djura resists chuckling at the outrage he can hear. "WE JUST WANNA GO THROUGH, MAYBE SPEAK! BUT NOT FIGHT!"

"... Fine. I'll send someone down. Don't move out of that area. If you pull or transform your weapons, you'll die."

---

"That went better than expected," Giacomo remarks.

"Yeah. Now we just gotta have some more luck, and maybe we can get an ally out of it."

"Yeah..." Giacomo blinks. His head feels woozy. Oh.

T h e y

w a k e

u p

(Up, up, on top of the tower, Djura almost chokes on the Moon Scent, and sees the two new hunters sway. They look distant, almost gone. Like ghosts, ever more corporeal.)

[starrystrawb]

Now introducing Volcanos! She is hot tempered, powerful, and kinda small compared to her fellow Mother Earth epithets. But make no mistake, she hold a power few of them possess. She is known to cause chaos so deep it can effect the other epithets.

She (kinda obviously) is based of Pele! For anyone who doesn't know, Pele is the Hawaiian Goddess of volcanos, wind, fire, lightning, and dance. She is immensely powerful and effects the other gods and goddesses around her. She is known for being quick to anger, passionate, and loving towards her people. Pele's mythos fascinates me and I adore all the stories she has. The most popular one being that she will disguise herself as a beggar woman and ask for alcohol and cigarettes. If you are kind to her, you will be in her good graces, if you fail, you will feel her wrath.

On to our eco tips!

Fire season is upon us, friends! Remember to keep in local ordinances and safely prepare yourself and your home! In some eco-systems, fire is necessary. That is what controlled burns are for! To ensure that the forests we love remain healthy, and to protect other areas, people, and wild life. Some good ground rules are to keep a fire extinguisher close by when having an out-door fire, properly store any wood kept for fires, and keep dry grass cut back away from anywhere you intend to have a fire! When you are enjoying a nice warm fire, be safe and responsible! Keep young children and pets a safe distance away, be cautious of the cinders, and completely extinguish a fire before turning in! Just like Smokey the Bear says; Only YOU can prevent forest fires!

As the seasons change and the temperatures rise, we find ourselves outside more. It's a beautiful day, friends! Be sure to enjoy it! If you are leaving the house or out in the sun, wear sunscreen! And reapply every 30 minutes - 2 hours. If you're able, use reef safe sunscreen, or sunscreens with environmentally friendly propellants if you prefer the spray kind! Most reef safe brands will have "REEF SAFE" printed on their packaging. I've used Blue Lizard and Hawaiian Tropic and liked them both!

Once you're sunscreen has run out, what do you do with the bottle? It's unfortunate but true that many beauty products are not curb-side recyclable. Some companies like Sephora, Nordstrom, and Terracycle have been advertising that they now take empty beauty product containers for recycling! If you can, consider taking your empty sunscreen bottle, blush container, or shampoo bottles to a company that provides these services! If you don't have that option, maybe repurpose the container if you can. It's not single use if you use it more than once!

I don't like yard work. I'm going to be very honest with you. I love being outside, and sometimes I even love sweating. And when my family is out there with me, damn I am just so happy! Until I am raking, or shoveling, or pulling weeds. I think it's the worst. But that doesn't mean I cant be environmentally couscous while I bitch about the work! Use paper or compostable bags when throwing out your yard debris. If you have room, you can compost weeds, leaves, sticks, and grass! If you garden, you can make a Lasagna Bed, where you layer compostable materials between layers of dirt! If you're trying to fill a hole or a large area, consider throwing those sticks and leaves and grass and whatever other organic materials in as a space filling base layer before you will it with dirt or rocks or mulch or whatever you want! The only thing I don't think that works for is a water feature.

Be brave, friends! It can be hard confronting people about problematic behavior or calling out big companies and big celebrities. I'm not saying you should berate the person in front of you at the coffee shop for not having a reusable cup, or neg someone for forgetting reusable bags! But if someone you know is supporting companies and people that are causing harm, let them know. If they choose to continue to support them, that isn't your problem. But at least you tried! Don't support companies that back Israel, like Starbucks. Boycott places that refuse to release their environmental impact statements, like Temu. Tell that one guy you know who thinks that they can't make a difference that they can! One person is all it takes to start a trend. Look at mom jeans or reusable straws!

Base

[sheephunter]

Omg wood bad

Is the gist of what certain politicians in my country just recently went with.

Summarised context: the politicians wanted to put into law that burning wood as primary source for internal house heating in condensed residential areas (towns, cities) should be illegal

Which is bullshit for a country that's ranked in top 10 most forested countries, as well as culturaly connected to those forests, BUT I DIGRESS, let's see what their arguments are.

"We won't have so many bad carbon emmisions"; "we'll be eco friendly"; "we'll be able to breathe easier and healthier"; mostly enviromental buzzword phrases you hear on the advertisement.

I'd be fooled to believe it, if it didn't reek of corporate lobbying and policymaking centralising around capital city.

Wood burning for house heating is more ecofriendly than vast majority of alternatives, that they advocated for. Yes the smoke can permeate the air, but dissipates quickly once it clears. Unlike smoke from burning fossil fuels, you know, like from 500+ cars all running around the city at the same time, because public transit ain't cheap anymore. And let's not forget factories creating so many pollutants, i'm suprised people aren't fully mutated into another species yet by now.

Let's list some thoughts of mine:

1. The capital city is regularly affected by temperature inversion, where the clouds above it will form heavy fog inside the valley it is in. Fog affected by smog. And a lot of road traffic happens during those hours. A point heavily neglected in the politicians ranting over wood burning.

2. Ever since Russian gas supply started being placed on the "avoid buying list". There has been extreme push towards coal and oil use for house heating and energy supply. Giving me a feeling there is corporate lobbying medling going on.

3. Properly stored and used wood, will give off a suprisingly low amount of carbon emmisions, due to the fact that as wood dries up, most of the harmful components produced by burning will already be safely gone before it even comes in contact with fire.

4. People burned wood for millenias in this countries area and never reported anything of the sort that the politicians were ranting about, until the industrialization of the country in recent present centuries.

5. And i could go on after more research

My parents own a small plot of land in the forest, out of which we take around 3-5 trees each year due to various naturaly caused damage to them that usually leads to the death of the tree (my dad literally took agricultural classes on maintaining a forest, so he knows which tree needs to collapse and when, to keep the forest healthy). The forest is thriving, because the owners of land in that forest KNOW what they're doing. Banning wood burning will lead to misinformation and ecoproblems.

The wood we store for a minimum of 1 year in a well airated, dry outdoor environment. By the time it gets used in the furnace, it is already perfectly dry and energy efficient. Banning wood burning will lead to misinformation and ecoproblems.

We have a 30+ year old mechanical, with some electrical components, because we used to also burn oil before realising it was a waste of money, furnace. We burn wood only when it is really cold outside. We recycle a ton of paper, and flammable stuff as fire starters, to the point our house can barely produce waste outside of stuff like plastic, glass, metal. And again banning wood burning will lead to misinformation and ecoproblems.

The ash remains can then be perfectly used as fertilizer. When the field is empty of veggie plants we will throw ash all over and let the rain and snow wash it into the soil, giving it many nutrients for plant growth. And when there are veggie plants on the field, we dump ash on the compost heap. We rarely use animal excrement to fertilize our veggie growing field and garden, and still yield healthy harvests each year. Banning wood burning will lead to misinformation and ecoproblems.

Seriously out of all things those idiot politicians will go after, the one thing i won't tolerate is wood.

[astrajinn]

A Slippery Nuisance

Throughout the entire journey, they did not move from that position. Astra didn't want to let go of her father, terrified at the idea that something might happen to him, and the Jedi spent the entire way comforting her with gentle humming. They weren't sure how much time had passed, but when they reached land and began unloading, it was clear they were not safe. The young girl, skilled in maneuvering through internal circuits and anchoring, guided them to descend and try to get away from the area as everything was being destroyed. Animals fled in panic, trees fell with a crash, accompanied by the echo produced by the large transports of the Trade Federation. The Jedi moved like shadows through the swamp, trying to find their companion, until one of the ships got so close that they had no choice but to start running.

"Be careful, duck!" the Jedi shouted to a Gungan who, instead of moving, remained static and still in place. Because of this, he basically tackled him, and the three of them fell to the ground, the ship passing over them.

"What was that?"

"Come on, Astra," he helped her up.

"Hey, wait," they called after them, following along.

"Oh, mui-mui, I love you."

"Because of you, we almost got squashed," the girl reproached, quite grumpy.

"Are you stupid or what?" he asked, just as the creature put on an offended expression.

"I can talk, I can talk."

"Just because you can talk doesn't make you intelligent. Now, go away."

"No, no, Misa stays. Misa is called Jar Jar Binks. Misa is his faithful servant."

"It won't be necessary."

"But it is, that's what the gods want, really. I owe my life to him, it's like I am called Jar Jar Binks."

They continued to advance until they heard some engines, and then they were shot at, or so they thought, until they saw Obi-Wan running ahead of the platforms, trying to escape from the driver droids.

"Take cover," he demanded, and the Jedi wielded their lightsabers to defend themselves.

"Look who's the irresponsible one now," he teased, deflecting a shot and destroying the droid's transport.

—You saved me again.

—What is this?

—A native, now.

Not finishing because another small group of battle droids opened fire from the artillery platforms, and Qui-Gon, being faster than the two young ones, stopped the shots with his lightsaber and sent them back towards the gunners, causing them to explode and raining metal all over the swamp.

—Ah! —Obi-Wan complained, releasing his lightsaber which was now smoking—. I'm sorry, Master. This swamp has fried my lightsaber.

—Qui-Gon shook his head with some amusement, noticing the smoke coming from the hole where the blade emerged—. You forgot to turn it off again after activating it, didn't you, Obi-Wan?

—It seems so, Master —he admitted, feeling embarrassed.

—It will recharge soon, but it will need time to clean. I hope you've finally learned your lesson.

—Yes, Master.

—Now, let's go before more droids come.

—More, more? Listen, excuse me, but I think the safest place is Otoh Gunga. My father is in a hidden city.

—A city?

-Yes.

—Can you take us there?

—On second thought, no, I don't think so.

—Why not?

—I'm embarrassed, but I'm afraid I might have been banished.

—Surely it was because you're so annoying —the younger one complained before checking if anyone else was coming.

—No, I was forgotten. The bosses would do terrible things to me —he trembled, causing a smile to form on the girl's face—. If I go back there.

—Do you hear that? —the Gungan nodded—. It's the sound of hundreds of terrible things coming this way.

—If they find us, they'll crush us, tear us apart, and forget about us —Obi-Wan continued, scaring the girl, so Qui-Gon pulled her close to him to comfort her.

—Just assimilated the data, hurry this way.

The Gungan began to walk, leading them through the forest, crossing thickets and swamp grass until they reached a sort of lake.

—How much farther?

—We'll go underwater and warn the Gungans. They don't like outsiders, so don't expect a warm welcome.

—Don't worry, we haven't had many warm welcomes today.

Jar Jar jumped into the water with a strange cry, and Obi-Wan handed a breathing apparatus to the girl for her to wear. Once ready, the three of them entered the water and swam after Jar Jar. After several minutes of swimming through the murky waters and descending deeper and deeper to the bottom of the lake, they reached an underwater city built with luminous bubbles of an unknown material, at least unknown to the younger one. Fish swam around it, and Astra was about to chase after one if Obi-Wan hadn't grabbed her cloak. They entered one of the structures, and to the Jedi's astonishment, it was a sort of air bubble where they were dry upon entering.

"At last, casia."

They began to move forward, seeing how the Gungans avoided them until two of them riding Kaadus approached them and threatened them with spears.

—Halt, you there!

—Hello Doli, Captain Tarpals. Misa is back!

—I don't think so, Jar Jar. Now you'll face the bosses. You're in big trouble this time.

"Are all your missions this strange?" she asked.

"Most of the time, you'll get used to it."

They were taken by the guards to the Gungan leader, who will decide their "fate," so to speak. Astra was already starting to regret coming. In the course of the day, she had been on the brink of death at least a dozen times and still hadn't had breakfast.

—You cannot be here. That army of flat-droids is a great risk.

—An army of droids is about to attack the Naboo. We have to warn them.

—No, we don't like the Naboo! The Naboo think they're so clever. They believe their brains are huge —he emphasized, waving his hands—. They want nothing to do with Gungans because we live in swamps. We haven't spoken in a long time, and the flat-droids won't change that.

—When the droids control the surface, they'll control you too.

—My friend, they don't know about us.

—But the Naboo have a direct symbiosis with you. If something happens to them, it could also happen to you —the girl explained in an attempt to reason with them.

—We don't care what happens to the Naboo.

—Then let us go —she began to use the Force.

—I will let you go.

—A useful transport would be nice.

—I'll give you a bongo. The shortcut to Naboo is through the planet's core. Now, go.

—Thank you for your help. We leave in peace.

—We thank you from the bottom of our hearts, Your Eminence —added the girl with a gentle bow common on her planet.

—Master, what's a bongo? —asked the puzzled Padawan.

—A transport, I hope.

—They set a trap for you. Crossing the planet, bad idea. Someone might help you.

—Master, we don't have time.

—If we're going to cross the planet, we'll need a navigator.

—In that case, I'm here. My sense of direction is better than anyone else's —the young one reminded them.

—I won't risk that. This Gungan can help us —he returned to the leader—. Sir, what will become of Jar Jar Binks?

—His punishment will be quite unique.

—I saved his life, and the girl did too. He owes us. His gods demand that his life belongs to us.

—Binks —dragging the S—. Tussa, you owe this man your life, and this girl too —he nodded in fear, which annoyed and denied—. Go with him.

—Don't drag me into this, I'd rather die here than in that hell.

—Then why didn't you stay quiet and let us leave? —the girl commented, walking hand in hand with Qui-Gon.

They boarded the Bongo, which was a ship with a strange manta ray-like shape and a jellyfish tail, which were actually rotating blades propelling the ship forward. Obi-Wan was piloting, with Jar Jar as his copilot. Qui-Gon took the seat behind them, placing Astra on his lap, cradling her in his arms. It would take a while to reach their destination, and in the meantime, the girl soothed herself with the heartbeat of the man she called "father" and fell into a deep sleep.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

—Astra, wake up, we've arrived —he gently shook her, and she opened her eyes.

—Do we have to keep going?

—Yes, let's go —he placed her next to him and got out of the ship, then helped her down.

—How could she sleep through all those shouts and chases? —Obi-Wan asked, amazed.

—Spend a night in the temple when one of the children is missing, and you'll know —he scolded, stretching so that all his bones cracked— Much better.

—Let's go.

They made their way through the streets, hiding in plain sight to escape the droids and reach the queen. When they arrived at the palace, they saw a group of droids escorting her, along with her handmaidens and a group of people. They moved forward stealthily to remain undetected until they were face to face.

—Why are you crouching with your height? They can barely see you.

—At least they don't see me because I'm short. They ignore you because you're ugly —she taunted, trying to see.

—In the name of the Force, stop arguing.

The four of them jumped in front of the droids, although Jar Jar was dancing around and Astra activated her speeder and circled the droids. They deflected the shots, and Qui-Gon used the Force to knock down two of them. Obi-Wan dealt with the ones in front, and Astra took care of those in the rear.

—You shouldn't be on the street, Your Highness.

—Take your weapons —said an elder, and they walked towards a corridor.

—We are ambassadors of the Supreme Chancellor —the Jedi Master informed.

—Your negotiations seem to have failed.

—If you can call three attempted murders negotiations. They were a total disaster —he mocked, playing with his lightsaber.

—It's urgent to contact the Republic.

—They destroyed our communications.

—Do you have any transports?

—In the hangar, it's that way —they started guiding them, and upon arriving, they saw hundreds of droids—. There are too many.

—It won't be a problem. Your Highness, given the circumstances, I suggest you accompany us to Coruscant.

—Going to Coruscant is madness. As soon as they realize her absence, it will be the first place they'll search for her —she quickly reasoned—. Paraddle is much safer. It's a neutral planet, and its resources allow it to avoid dealings with any other planet. Logically, they wouldn't think of looking for her there.

—Thank you, ambassadors, but I cannot leave my people.

—We want the queen to leave the planet, not you —she taunted, knowing that the woman in front of her was not the queen.

—She is the Queen of Naboo, child.

—And I am Senator Palpatine's daughter. The point here is that if she stays, they'll kill her.

—They wouldn't do that.

—They need her to sign a treaty that legalizes their invasion. They won't kill her.

—There must be more to all of this, Your Highness. The Federation doesn't act logically. I sense that they want to destroy her.

—Our hope is that the Senate will ally with us; Senator Palpatine can be of great help.

—These decisions represent a great risk for everyone.

—We are brave, Your Highness —a handmaiden responded.

—If you are to leave, Your Highness, it must be now.

—I will present the case to the Senate. Be careful, Governor.

They all entered the hangar, with the Jedi leading the way, prepared to fight. Obi-Wan would free the pilots, Qui-Gon would protect the people, and Astra had to clear the takeoff runway. When the shooting started, she moved like a fury, jumping, falling, and spinning with great strength and speed, getting rid of anyone standing in her way.

—Astra, hurry up —he called, and she used the Force to remove the remaining obstacles before boarding the ship and heading to the control room.

—There's the blockade.

—There's an opening above that ship; we can use it —she pointed before feeling the ship shaking—. What was that?

—The generator was damaged.

—There are hardly any droids left —the Padawan informed.

—We're done for.

—If they don't reactivate that shield, we'll be torn apart —she informed the pilot.

—There are no shields. There's already power.

—How? —the girl asked.

—That droid did it, it created a bridge in the power core, maximum deflection shields —she reported before accelerating. —There's not enough power to reach Coruscant. We have leaks, sir.

—Let's land to refuel and repair the ship.

—Look, Master, Tatooine is a small and poor planet; the Trade Federation has no influence over it.

—I'm sure the Republic doesn't either, it doesn't seem convenient —he mumbled, holding his head due to dizziness.

—How do you know?

—It's controlled by the Hutts —Qui-Gon informed her.

—I won't take her Royal Highness there. The Hutts are gangsters; if they find out...

—We'll face the same fate if we land in a system controlled by the Federation. The advantage here is that the Hutts are not looking for her.

—Not yet —she murmured and held onto Qui-Gon's cloak.

—Astra?

—I'm very dizzy, it'll pass.

—The queen wishes to see you.

A handmaiden informed them as she entered the room, and the three of them left. In the hallway, they encountered the droid that had fixed the ship. They entered to see the queen and waited for her to ask who had saved them.

—A very efficient droid that saved the ship and our lives.

—We should give it recognition. What's its designation?

—R2-D2, Your Highness.

—Thank you, R2-D2. Padmé —she called her handmaiden—. Clean it as best as you can; it deserves our gratitude. Continue, Captain.

—Your Highness, we are heading to a remote planet called Tatooine, which is in a system beyond the Federation's reach.

—I don't agree with the Jedi's idea.

—You must trust my judgment, Your Highness.

—I don't think so.

—Before you continue arguing like 3-year-olds —the girl interrupted—. Is there any place where I can rest? At this rate, I'll end up passing out.

—Come here —he lifted her and pulled up his hood to cover her so she could rest—. Feeling dizzy again?

—Void, the Force fluctuates too much; there's something on that planet —she murmured, closing her eyes.

Qui-Gon spent some time carrying Astra and using his Force ability to try to calm her discomfort. For some, this might seem strange, but for Obi-Wan, the strange part would be not seeing his master caring for the girl. Since he could remember, he saw Qui-Gon preventing the girl from breaking her neck or walking through the temple halls with her clinging to his cloak. At first, he thought she was his daughter, but after learning about the rules of non-attachment and that Jedi didn't marry or have families, he almost completely discarded that idea. This was further confirmed when they told him that Astra was actually two years old and an orphan from Paraddle, found by Qui-Gon when she was so alone in the Galaxy that she didn't even have a name to call her own.

When they landed, Qui-Gon woke up Astra and helped her change before doing the same. Jedi robes were easily recognizable, so putting on something less conspicuous was the better option. He still fastened his lightsaber to his waist in case he needed to defend himself and then let her search for her speeder bike.

—The hyperdrive is damaged; we need another one.

—That complicates things.

—By any chance, did the power cell get damaged too? —she sarcastically asked, arriving with her speeder bike.

—Why would a power cell get damaged?

—Because this thing is so broken that soon it'll be easier to buy a new one.

—Don't be so pessimistic. You'll stay here, Obi-Wan, and be careful. I sense an instability in the Force.

—I sense it too.

—Now you believe me? —she grumbled, annoyed—. I've been saying for over a day that something weird is going on, and no one listens to me. We need to get off this planet —she rubbed her arms until she felt Qui-Gon placing a hand on her head.

—Soon. Don't let them send transmissions.

The two of them disembarked the ship along with R2 and Jar Jar. As always, she rode her speeder bike, and they had not gone very far before the pilot caught up with them, along with one of the queen's handmaidens.

—Wait, wait —he called them—. Her Highness has decided that her handmaiden will accompany you.

—I don't see the handmaiden —the girl sang—. I don't take orders from anyone, especially an impostor.

—She's still at it.

—So are you —she teased.

—Hold on, Astra. Captain, we cannot obey Her Highness; this planet is very dangerous.

—The queen wishes it; she wants to explore the planet.

—I don't like the idea. Don't you leave my side —she began to advance.

—Hopefully, Her Highness is a good walker. We have a long journey ahead of us.

He commented with a long sigh, and the group continued walking. They went straight for at least 30 minutes before reaching the village.

—Moisture farms, native tribes, and junk dealers, all in one place.

—That's not to mention slaves.

—Slavery has been prohibited since the formation of the Republic —the girl pointed out.

—On a planet where the Republic isn't involved, do you think their laws are? —he asked, backing up and circling around R2.

—It's not right, but in cases like this, it's useful. These kinds of spaceports serve as hiding places for those in hiding.

—Like us.

—Though usually they're hiding to avoid jail; in our case, it's to avoid death.

—I don't like this at all —Jar Jar muttered.

—I'll start with a small trader. Astra, get off the speeder bike and let me handle it.

As requested, the girl got off her speeder bike and carried it under her arm before reaching out her hand to the Jedi and following him to a warehouse. Upon entering, the first thing they saw was a counter, and behind it, a Toydarian was doing some calculations.

—I need parts for a Nubian J-327 —Qui-Gon calmly requested.

—A Nubian, we have many of those.

—My droid has a list of what we need.

He pulled on his sleeve and looked to the side timidly—. Please.

—Ah, yes, my daughter needs a specific adjustment key to fix a defect in her speeder bike. Do you think you'll have it?

—You can check here, but whatever you break, you'll have to pay for it —he started yelling at a kid who was coming in.

—Then I'll take it to the back; we have what you need there —he started flying towards the place.

—She took a piece from Jar Jar's hand and scolded him—. No touching anything. —then she turned to her daughter and added—. Look for what you need, you're in charge, especially of Jar Jar —she whispered the last part.

—I'll make sure they don't get into trouble —she saw him go and left her speeder bike on the ground before starting to search.

—Is he an angel? —the child asked.

—He's not a Gungan —Padmé replied.

—Not him, her. Is she an angel?

—Hey, girl —he called her since he couldn't remember her name.

—What's up? —she returned to his side, holding a screwdriver in her hand.

—The boy, he wants to know.

—Are you an angel? —he asked with a smile.

In the moment their gazes met, the entire galaxy came to a halt. For the first time in her life, Astra felt like she lacked nothing. Nothing else mattered, not being with Qui-Gon or annoying Obi-Wan, not the teachings of her masters or the rules of the Order. Whether she returned to Coruscant to continue her training or escaped to see Adora on Paraddle, it all became inconsequential as if she had been drifting in space and the Force suddenly awakened her. Little did she know that he felt the same way.

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Chut Chut Pateesa, how are you?

I apologize for not posting in over a month; I'm sure you want to kill me for that. The truth is, it's all Obi-Wan's fault. He suggested that the Padawans weren't well-prepared, and now we have to take advanced knowledge tests at the Jedi Temple every six months. I think Anakin hates him more than ever, though I can't say the rest of us are very happy either.

Anyway, I hope you've had a lovely month and are practicing your combat forms a lot; I believe they'll be needed soon. In the meantime, I wish you all lots of love for this post. Share, comment, and follow me, as that motivates me to keep writing for you. Have a beautiful night and stay safe from the Sith because the dark side is lurking more than ever. And my young Padawans, don't forget: "Hope is like the sun. If you only believe in it when you see it, you'll never make it through the night." May the Force be with you.

[evelyn-the-archivist]

how did jonathon sims meet his ultimate end? a disappointment, truly.

I'm assuming my pinned post wasn't enough detail for you, then?

Fine. Here's everything I know about the Prentiss attack.

The entirety of the Archives were overrun with worms, after being infiltrated by Jane Prentiss. Sasha ran to alert Elias, who subsequently pulled the fire alarm. She considered going back to help them, but decided to leave the Institute and wait outside. This decision saved her life, presumably.

The officers came, and entered the Archives.

The remains of Jane Prentiss were found, as well as the scattered corpses of the many parasites she had been a home to. There were also the bits and pieces of Jonathan, Timothy, and Martin scattered about the area. Strands of hair, shreds of clothes, blood, and stray bits of flesh. It was concluded that they had been devoured during the attack, a conclusion I find no reason not to agree to.

This was also when the tunnels were discovered, though I had already been aware of them. I hadn't been aware of Gertrude's body, however.

They also found a tape in Jonathan's office. It's a record of the first half of the attack, but ends after a conversation between him and one of his assistants, Martin. I can only infer that neither of them were in any state to start recording again later on.

Sasha was the only smart one, then. She left the situation, kept herself safe. I hope she's doing the same thing now.

[localwebslingers]

It wasn't the answer he wanted to give, Peter wished he could tell Harry that he saw two people at a safe distance away from all of this. That he could assure that they were both fine, and he knew where they were, and where to go from here. He couldn't do that, and he wasn't about to lie about it either. For the moment, they had to clear out before they were spotted, and their window for that was closing. And fast, because he was pretty sure more vehicles were starting to show up to try and contain the situation. What still could be contained, anyways.

As soon as Harry struggled to get up and he was reached for, Peter caught his arm and helped to steady him. Stepping in closer to take on and support the leaning and unsteady weight. Harry already didn't look good, but he didn't sound good either. Peter was seriously starting to worry just how bad he was.

His chest tightened at the apology and he wrapped an arm around Harry's middle, "I know, it's okay. It's gonna be alright, let's get you out of here and patched up. Then we'll go find him." Peter said quietly, looking back and seeing flashlights starting their way to try and see among the wreckage. Carefully, he worked on picking his way through the remaining rubble to the back of the former lobby. Trying to move quickly while staying hidden, and also not jar Harry too much and make him any worse.

Once they got outside, he could see the search widening and hear yells from inside as others moved into the building. Peter looked around and shifted his hold on Harry slightly, "I'm gonna pick you up and get us out of here, okay? I've got you.." he waited a moment to let Harry brace himself before holding him close and shooting a web to get them into the air quickly. Sticking to the side buildings and high up enough up that hopefully, no one spotted them. The other Peter had cleared out of the area and they were looking for the younger now, Peter didn't want to make things worse than they already were by getting spotted.

Passing overhead, Jameson was still down below and giving a report that was no doubt still on nearly every screen in the city. The ambulance was still there, still no rushing paramedics, and the fire department was rolling in to help with the fires. Peter didn't stop until they were at least a half dozen blocks away and held Harry carefully as he lowered them into an alley, "Easy...we should be good here for a little bit." and if not, Peter would get them out of there as fast as he could.

|| @inhcritance ||

One piece of debris less on him, and Harry tried to figure out just how much he could move, given how the instincts were yelling for him to crawl out of the debris... but then again, the instincts had never been good at assessing damage, only at demanding he cause it.

Would things have gone differently, he wondered somewhere in the middle of that rage and pain, if he'd let the instincts take over? If he'd just let go of his restraints and gone as hard as he could against the other Goblin? Or would it have been worse? He didn't know, he couldn't know, and he had to focus on the here and now, as he pushed some of the debris off him, and tried not to focus on Peter's words. On the way he'd only mentioned the kid, most likely, and that meant... no. That had to mean that this Peter was there, and that was what Harry would focus on. That, and sitting up.

Somewhere underneath the pain of too many wounds he could feel the itch of growing scales, the telltale mark of the regeneration factor working, and he wondered just how much it had managed to fix. How much it could fix, as he sat up, and his already injured arm felt even worse, but he still had one to try to use to stand up... and he ended up needing to hold on to Peter instead.

They had to leave, he knew it. He didn't want to leave. And he also knew when he wouldn't be useful at all.

"Let's go." He hissed, in the end. "Just... let's go." And then, quieter, but no less angry, "I'm sorry."

For needing to be rescued. For having failed, once again, for having been unable to find Peter and now having lost the kid again.

@localwebslingers

[redheadspark]

Heyyy How are you? It's been a while, sorry

:( I wasn't feeling so nice but I'm getting better.

About the Prompt Fall part 2, I miss Azriel!

Dear Author could I please request Azriel x female reader, for numbers 17 and 24?

Thank you so much

Sending virtual Hug!🤍❤️

Omg I just want a crush to cuddling like this:

A/N: Hello darling! I'm sorry you weren't feeling yourself, but I'm glad you're feeling better!! I'll write a sweet Azriel oneshot just for you ;)

Hold Me Close

Summary: Azriel never told anyone apart from his mate, but he was a massive cuddler.

Warnings: Fluffy

"Are we going to move from this spot anytime soon?"

"Mmmmmm...nope,"

"That's what I figured."

You nuzzled into your mate some more, breathing in his scent that was a mixture of citrus and a hint of pine along with some of his sweat from his training session at the House of Wind. You could of sworn he was going to keel over when he flew to your little home in Velaris, looking beyond exhausted and was about to collapse on your doorstep. You just tutted, bringing him inside to hold him close on your massive couch in the sitting area. it overlooked the cobbled street in the front of the house, which didn't get a lot of foot traffic but was safe and quiet. The only thing heard outside was the rustling trees from the wind that came from the towering mountains and the leaves falling onto the cobbled ground.

Autumn had come to Velaris.

You never minded it, it was rather nice to have a change of pace in the bustling city of Velaris within the Night Court. Many people were dressed in sweaters and coats, the swirling leaves made it inviting for children to jump into, and new sweet scents of treats slipping through the cracked windows of the food stalls. It was all inviting, a season of change for certain.

Azriel never minded the cold too much, he would prefer to be with his mate under the covers in your massive bed or on your couch in front of a roaring fire. he was more prone to having moments of peace and quiet after working the new Illyrian soldiers to the bone or being the Spymaster for Rhysand and Feyre. He didn't mind the work at all, anything that would help Velaris and Night Court thrive was all Azriel wanted as a member of the Inner Circle.

But with you? He didn't have to think about it too much.

You had your own duties in the Inner Circle as Mor's right hand. She kept you busy and occupied throughout the day, and you didn't mind working with her since Mor was one of your closest friends. She was one of the first ones to catch onto you and Azriel being mates, highly endorsing the pair of you together.

So it was no brainer she was your maid of honor in your wedding.

On this particular afternoon, Azriel was having your wrapped in his arms. The first layer of curtains were drawn in the sitting room, giving you the right amount of privacy to let the both of you be bare on the couch with only a quilt covering the pair of you. Sprawled on your stomach and half laying on your mate, your mind was slowing drifting and your fingers were dancing along his arms and shoulders to soothe him and let his day melt away. You both were still in your "honeymoon" phase, which seemed rather silly since it's been almost a year since you two were married. But either of you cared or wished to cool down your love and affection for one another.

It never got in the way of your jobs with the Inner Circle and for the High Lord and High Lady. While you worked, you remained poised and professional. Azriel was always cool and calm when he was on his Spymaster patrol with other Courts, and you were the same with your delegation work with Mor. But when it was just the pair of you...all bets were off.

And neither of you cared.

"Come closer, I'm cold!" You heard Azriel say next to you as he was breathing in your hair and wrapping his arms around your bare back. You grinned against his neck as you huffed closer, feeling the body warmth between the pair of rise. Azriel sighed in relief, "Much better. You're like my now personal heater,"

"That's so romantic," You joked, Azriel pinching your side to make you squeal. He laughed, the mood lightening a bit as you both were simply laying together in piece and with the cool sun about to set over the bustling city. You watched the leaves fall, the dancing reds and oranges giving the beautiful image of a painting.

"Never thought we would end up on the couch," You mused, Azriel tracing his fingers along the spine of your back, "This is a first for us, on the couch of our sitting room,"

"I've always wanted to try it," Azriel admitted, sounding so modest as you grinned widely, "Cassian did bet that we would end up on here sooner,"

"What a dick," You snorted, then moving over to rest your arms on his upper chest to look at him lovingly as you moved some of his dark locks out of his face with your fingers, "Too bad our bed is much bigger and softer....with satin sheets to boot,"

"A wonderful wedding present from our High Lady no doubt," Azriel said in agreement, searching your eyes with his hazel ones and giving you his soft smile. You shivered a bit, Azriel moving the quilt up a bit along your back to be perched over your shoulders to keep the chill away. Right after he was done with placing the quilt over you, he simply stared at you and drank in the image in front of him. His mate, bare and blissfully happy, wrapped in his arms with a sense of love and peace floating in the room. With the rosy cheeks along your skin, your hair askew and down your back from being in a braid all day long, and some small kissed marks along your neck and collarbone.

You looked beyond radiant to him.

"What is it?" You asked, leaning up a bit to touch your nose with his. He merely shook his head, nuzzling your noses together and staring into your eyes deeply as he reached up to trace your jawline with his scarred fingers, but in a delicate fashion.

"Nothing at all, my darling mate," he replied in a hum, sounding so calm himself, "I'm at peace with you here, it's all I need,"

You beamed, hearing that from his mate made your heart soar. Azriel was always one think of others before himself, to place himself last for any need. You loved that about him, but you wished to have him care of himself more. To have that sense that all was well for him, nothing to worry about or to look out for. Seeing him there, wings out and pliant as a sign of vulnerability and comfort, tussled hair and loose limbs, and his face ever showing love and contentment, it was more than enough for you.

You kissed him soundly, feeling him pull you closer as the quilt was falling down your back again as his fingers started to wander....

The End.

Fall Prompt Round 2

[phr3ia]

Before It Ends (Jiyan x Fem!Reader) [Chapter 5 - Misunderstood]

"How the fuck did someone as clever and resourceful as you keep coming back looking like you got jumped in an alley by a group of Tacet Discords in the middle of the night?!"

Mortefi tried his best to remain professional with you, but he just couldn't handle it anymore. He stared in aggravation as he took in the bruises and cuts on your face, marring your cheeks as you grinned at him guiltily.

"Y/N. This is the seventhtime in a week, you have come to my lab looking like you got dragged through the nearest Tacet Field and then drowned in the waters outside the Academy!" he growled, as he walked towards you and grabbed your wrist firmly - not gently, because Mortefi had enough of you.

Mortefi pulled you towards the small area he'd made specifically to treat you. "Did you forget that you're supposed to heal the Rangers, not fight the TDs and let them beatyou into a pulp?"

Mortefi doesn't even bother letting you respond, his hand rising to cover your mouth. "No. Shut up. I've heard the arguments three times already." he grumbled, starting to painstakingly clean up your wounds before doing an Overclocking Diagnostic Report on you. "I swear to the Sentinels, it's like you purposefully go hurling yourself into every dangerous situation you can get into! Not even Chixia gets into this much trouble, and we both know how reckless she can get!"

Mortefi can feel the familiar burn of his mounting frustration, his scales warming against his chest as he grit his teeth and started to place bandages and patches over your bruises and cuts. "I swear to Jué, you're damn lucky I care about you, or I'd leave your dumbass to bleed on the Academy steps until Baizhi takes pity on you..."

"Here we go again, a complete change of attitude when no one else is around inside the Academy during nightime.. I prefer the morning Mortefi. He was much more level-headed." you said, trying to provoke him further. "And for your information, we were swarmed by Tacet Discords the whole day while distributing medical supplies in the Port City of Guixu. I had no other choice but to fight." you added, trying to explain your side.

Mortefi stared at you, stunned for barely a moment. Then the anger flared up quickly, causing the fire inside him to ignite and lick at his scales.

"'No other choice? You had plenty of choices, you just kept making the worst of them, every time. Plenty of opportunities to stay back and not get hurt." he growled, swiping your bandaged hand away from him to emphasize his words. "You're one of the best at what you do, you don't need to be proving yourself! And remember, we don't want you overexerting yourself and risking overclocking. Didn't the General remind you about that?"

"Yeah." you replied, with a slight pout on your face.

"For all the times I tell you to be safe, you keep doubling  down on reckless behavior!" He stood, taking a step away. "And yes, I was probably calmer in the morning, when your reckless ass wasn't bleeding all over my laboratory, and I wasn't given cause to worry about you for another goddamn day, yes?"

His voice rose, palpable anger bubbling under the surface of his words as he addressed you. "You may think you're helping, but here you are looking like this! Then you come in, grin on your face and act like you've done something grand when all you've managed to do is nearly get yourself killed!" He took a deep breath, trying to bring his anger back under control. As a Fusion Mutant Resonator, Mortefi's overexertion of his emotions could lead to him Overclocking. The last thing the Academy needed was for their head of the Branch of Tacetite Weaponry to lose control of his abilities.

"Jeez! Relax!" you said, patting his head. This reminded you of the incident where Mortefi overclocked in Desorock Highland, resulting in a major fire.

Mortefi stiffened as you reached up to pat his head. ""I'm not a child, and I certainly am not a puppy that you can pat on the head." He snapped, voice still thick with anger as he stared at you.

"Just...please, next time, try to remain a little bit smarter, a little bit more cautious. For me."

Mortefi couldn't look you in the eyes. Instead, he looked at your bandages, at the remnants of blood that clung to them. "Now stop antagonizing me, get on the table so I can begin examining you. I'll send word to the General and the others on your team about your condition, so no more fieldwork for a few days, got it?"

"These are just minor injuries. It's not like I'm in a life-or-death situation." you remarked, rolling your eyes at him.

"Mother entrusted you to my care. So please, Y/N, just listen to me this once." Mortefi's voice softened.

"Okay..." you sighed in defeat. Mortefi had always been tough on you, but you understood it was for your own good.

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

Both of you are from the New Federation. You are Mortefi's younger step-sister. His biological mother passed away when he was young, and his father remarried, making your mother his new wife.

You and Mortefi came from a noble family in the New Federation. His biological mother passed away when he was young, and his father remarried, bringing your mother into the family as his new wife. At first, Mortefi was not fond of having you as his younger step-sister, but he eventually grew to care for you. He was always protective of you, constantly watching out for your well-being.

You never had an issue growing up in the New Federation. However, you were disheartened by the way the nation handled the discrimination between Resonators and Non-Resonators. Your strong sense of justice was deeply troubled by living in a nation that was unjust to its citizens. The New Federation also takes pride in Science and Technology, to the extent that the experiments conducted were deemed immoral, a reality that Mortefi found intolerable.

This pushed you and Mortefi to leave the Nation over a decade ago and embark on a journey to Huanglong, where you could effectively utilize your knowledge and skills for the betterment of society. And the people here are unaware of your relationship with each other, except for the Magistrate. But it wasn't a secret worth keeping. Both of you were simply waiting for someone to ask about it.

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

"You're going to be out of commission for a few days. You'll need to bare with me. It's for your own good, and I'm the only one who knows how to do it right." Mortefi folded his arms, locking his gaze with yours, making sure you understood  his intentions.

"Now that you're evolving, we need to be cautious about everything. You are someone valuable, Doctor." Mortefi emphasized.

He looked at you with his piercing red eyes, slowly removing your clothing from your wounded areas. "If anything happened to you in the field, I'd never forgive myself. If you really want to make a difference, why not do it from a more stable position? This isn't just about staying safe, it's about being more effective in our goals." He spoke with care and concern, his voice gentle as he reprimanded you, easing the tension that had been between you.

"I never thought I would develop such skills. It's overwhelming and I feel frustrated that my body struggles to keep up. It just shows how weak I am." you commented, feeling disappointed in yourself.

"No, Y/N. You're not weak. It's normal to have trouble with adapting to new changes. you just need some guidance and practice. And you have that here in Huanglong. You have the General, Me and the others. You don't need self-depreciating thoughts, but self-improvement through practice and hard work. You are a mutant, your abilities are linked to your emotions and experiences. Your Tacet Mark is a powerful testament to the strength within you." He touched your Tacet Mark gently, his fingers tracing over the sensitive flesh. "You are, and always will have been, strong. Now, let's get this taken care of so you can prove it to me and the rest of the world." Mortefi squeezed your hand reassuringly.

After an hour of examination, he finally permitted you to leave. "Don't be too stubborn, alright?" he advised, raising an eyebrow. "Got it, Professor!" you replied, giving him a tight hug.

"Oh, sorry." Jiyan blurted out as he caught sight of you hugging Mortefi in the hallway.

"Jiyan?" you exclaimed, turning your head to face him as you released yourself from the embrace.

"General." Mortefi nodded to acknowledge his presence. "I didn't mean to interrupt you both." the General stated, gripping the hilt of his blade tightly, his hand trembled as if he had witnessed something that shattered him.

"It's okay!" you reassured Jiyan with a smile. "I'll see you tomorrow." you told Mortefi as you dragged Jiyan out of the Academy.

"What are you doing here? You were supposed to be at the Rearguard's Base." you asked, curious to know why he's here. "Is everything alright?" you inquired, noticing the General's unreadable expression.

A shaky breath escaped before his lips. "There was an emergency mission at a nearby village. But I took care of the situation before it got out of control." Jiyan's voice held an underlying tension as he tried to put on a brave face. 

"Thank goodness." Your worried frown smoothed out, returning to your usual, radiant smile. You hooked your arm through Jiyan's, giving him a squeeze.

"How did you know I was here?"

"I asked Xin Ye, and she informed me about what happened. I'm glad you're okay. I can see that Mortefi has been taking good care of you." Jiyan replied, though a hint of jealousy seemed to linger behind his words.

"Yeah, he does. My Overclock Diagnostic Report was normal, and he also helped me with my wounds." you said, touching the tacet mark on your chest.

Jiyan knew that every time Mortefi needed to diagnose you, your tacet mark had to be exposed, making him wonder how many times Mortefi had seen you without your shirt on. This realization left him feeling somewhat irritated.

"Hey, are you okay? You seem a bit off." Jiyan's demeanor shifted as if he were in a bad mood.

"I'm fine." he insisted, but he was no longer meeting your gaze, instead, his eyes focused on the ground. As he felt your grip on his arm tightening, it prompted Jiyan to look at you once more.

"Hey, Y/N. Can I ask you something?" Jiyan paused in his tracks to question you.

"Sure. What is it?"

"Do you like Mortefi? Are you guys dating?" he asked.

"What?" you replied with a snort, attempting to stifle your laughter, but you failed.

"What are you laughing at?" he asked, furrowing his brows.

"Dating?! Mortefi is my step-brother, you silly!" you replied with a grin, playfully slapping Jiyan's back.

"I thought he-..." Jiyan admitted to his error, his face heating up. He looked down, feeling embarrassed that he'd made such a mistake.

"Haha. No, he's my brother. Step-brother! We've been through a lot together since we were young."

For a brief moment, the silence settled between the two of you before Jiyan spoke again, sounding somewhat relieved. "So, you're not seeing anyone?"

"No, I'm not." you assured him.

And your response managed to bring a smile to the General's face.

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End of Chapter 6 🥀...