#so when we caught up he was on tuck's shoulder getting scritches :3

[blujaydoodles]

A very long awaited meeting. Melliwyk's parents have been having a weird time of it lately; I think her mom's earned the right to yell at her a little bit

[jewelleria]

if i had a heartbeat — remus lupin

summary: the gryffindor common room is warm and welcoming, but not as much as the arms of one of your favourite people after a tiring day for the both of you.

word count: 1.9k

warnings: fluffy fluff, angst but not really, cuddling.

a/n: this is my first oneshot here on tumblr, so i hope you all like it! i wrote this for a writing challenge celebrating @yourssuccubus reaching 400 followers (prompts are in bold)!! congrats sarah, i hope you enjoy this <3

“Oh, you can’t be serious.”

“No, silly,” said a voice from behind you. “I’m Sirius.”

Whipping around, you rolled your eyes at the taller boy standing next to your chair. Sirius was carrying two books — a rare occurrence, to be sure — and was leaning against one of the many shelves that lined the Hogwarts library. His usual smirk made you purse your lips.

“Well, look who finally decided to show up,” you snarled. “How long has it been, an hour?”

Smiling sheepishly, Sirius let the textbooks in his arms spill onto the table the two of you were sharing. You narrowed your eyes at the cover of the first one.

“Sirius, I just put that book back,” you sighed. “If you’re going to pretend to help with this project, at least do it right.”

Scowling at you, Sirius propped his feet up on the desk, and you moved your chair sideways in disdain. For some time, the two of you stayed that way — you bent over a roll of parchment, your quill making rhythmic scritch-scratch noises as you wrote, and Sirius flipping absent-mindedly through a textbook without really reading it.

“Are you done yet?” Sirius asked after a while, his voice taking on an irritating whine.

You looked up and raised an eyebrow. “I’d already be done if you actually helped me.”

“Hey, you’re the one who offered to do it all yourself,” Sirius pointed out, shrugging. “And I didn’t ask to be paired up with you, you know.”

“Well, neither did I,” you snapped, setting down your quill and crossing your arms in front of your chest, “but since both of our partners are conveniently absent, there didn’t seem to be much of a choice, did there?”

“Look,” Sirius began, swinging his feet off the table. “They’re not conveniently —”

“Really? Last I saw him, James was running down the first floor corridor with a bag of Honeydukes chocolate,” you said, shaking your head as you fiddled with the end of your eagle-feather quill. “And Merlin only knows where Remus has been — I haven’t seen him for the past two days.”

For a moment, you almost saw Sirius swallow nervously, but he quickly replaced it with a smirk. “Well, everyone’s got to skip class once in a while, eh?”

“No.” You closed your eyes, rubbing your temples to ease an oncoming headache. “I miss Remus.”

“Oh, do you now?” Sirius asked slyly.

“Not like that, stupid,” you scolded, gathering up your belongings and putting them in your bag and feeling the back of your neck heat up. “He’s just... more tolerable when it comes to assignments.”

“Whatever you say, Y/N,” Sirius said, not moving from his chair as you stood up and slung your bag over your shoulder. He watched curiously as you pushed your chair back in. “Giving up, are we?”

“No, I’ll finish it tomorrow,” you sighed. “C’mon, it’s getting late. Don’t want Filch to catch us.”

“Oh, sweet, innocent Y/N!” Sirius exclaimed dramatically, jumping up from his chair and pretending to faint. “Don’t you know me well enough to know I never get caught?”

“Your detention last night says otherwise.”

Sirius ignored you as the two of you left the library and walked in silence down the corridors and back to Gryffindor tower. The evening sky wasn’t yet dark, but you could see from the windows you passed that the dark blue would soon fade to black, and the air in the castle would get colder, just as it always did at night. Blowing out a quiet breath, you stopped in front of the Fat Lady’s portrait and waited until Sirius gave the password (which you usually tended to forget) and the portrait swung open.

You clambered through the portrait hole after Sirius, setting your bag down next to the nearest sofa and collapsing onto the soft, overstuffed cushions. Sirius called a hasty goodnight before skipping up the stairs to the boys’ dorm, calling Peter’s name.

The common room was silent except for the steady crackling of the hearth, and most of the students save for a few seventh years had gone up to bed. You closed your eyes, nudging off both of your shoes with your toe and letting the fire warm your socks.

From behind the sofa where you sat, the sound of the portrait hole opening reached your ears, followed by a whisper and a quiet laugh. You used your elbows to push yourself up and turned around, peeking over the back of the sofa. There, standing next to the now closed portrait, stood James Potter and Remus Lupin.

You narrowed your eyes and started to stand up when you laid eyes on Remus and had to stifle a gasp. He looked — and there was no other word for it — like death. The dark circles under his eyes were more prominent than when you’d last seen him, and he’d gained a new scar, the angry red mark stretching from his collarbone to his jawline.

It wasn’t uncommon for Remus to disappear every once in a while. It was never for too long, and hardly lasted for more than a day; but he never came back with injuries. At least, not visible ones. 

And his excuse was always the same: his mother was ill. According to Remus, she’d been ill for the past six years, since you’d started Hogwarts. 

As you watched, James squeezed Remus’s shoulder gently and adjusted his hold on the same Honeydukes bag he’d been running down the first floor corridor with. “Want me to help you upstairs, mate?” 

“No, it’s fine,” Remus muttered, rubbing his eyes. “I need to finish an assignment.” 

James nodded and retreated up the stairs, just brushing your arm, and you sank back into the sofa cushions, frowning. Where had Remus been? Why had James gone with him? And, for Merlin’s sake, was Remus okay? 

Your friendship with the Marauders had started at the beginning of the year. Really, none of you knew how it came to be, only that Remus was an exceptional study partner and that his friends never failed to make you laugh so hard it hurt. 

But this... this was worrying.

A shadow made you look up. Remus was standing beside the sofa, evidently trying to back away before you noticed him, but it was too late. You smiled softly at him.

“What were you doing out so late?” you asked quietly, moving over to make room for Remus, who sat down beside you with tensed shoulders. 

“Erm, prefect duties,” Remus mumbled, fidgeting with his hands in his lap. 

“James isn’t a prefect.” 

Remus swallowed, and his Adam’s apple bobbed up and down as his honey-coloured eyes darted nervously from side to side. “We were — he was just —”

“It’s alright,” you interrupted, leaning forward just slightly. “I won’t pry.” 

After a moment of silence, Remus nodded and pulled his knees to his chin, staring at the dying flames. He looked pale, and the shadows made his features look hollow — sickly, even. It was hard to believe he was only sixteen, with the dimmed look in his eyes and the scars that seemed older than him. 

Taking a deep breath, you tucked your socked feet under you and reached out a hand, resting it gently on Remus’s forearm. He looked up at you, and something in him seemed to give, because the moment the two of you made eye contact, Remus’s demeanour relaxed and he let go of his legs, letting them rest on the couch with his feet touching the carpet.

“But I am worried about you, Remus,” you admitted, and the moment the words left your mouth, he broke eye contact. “Are you alright?” 

Letting out a small sigh, Remus ran a hand through his sandy brown hair. “Yeah,” he said. “I’ve just had a rough day.” 

You nodded. “Those happen to the best of us.” You nudged his shoulder with your elbow. “Do you want to talk about it?” 

Slowly, Remus shook his head and moved hand to rest on yours; you felt a blush start to form on your cheeks, and internally chided the rebellious fluttering in your chest. It’s just Remus, you reminded yourself. Get it together. 

“Not really,” Remus replied, his voice lowering to a whisper. "I’d rather you just hold me.” 

“Oh,” you breathed, wishing your hands weren’t sweating so much as you watched Remus’s eyes widen and his cheeks turn the colour of his Gryffindor jumper. 

“I — I just meant —” Remus pinched the bridge of his nose. “That came out wrong, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like that —” 

“Hey,” you said gently, trying to channel the sort of energy Lily did whenever someone was upset and inwardly cursing your voice for shaking. “It’s fine. If you need a hug, I’ll give you one.” You shrugged. “Honestly, I could use a hug, too.” 

Remus didn’t answer, so you scooted forward until your knees were touching and rested your arm on the back of the sofa so your hand was level with his head. Hesitantly, you carded your hand through the soft brown curls, running a lock of hair softer than silk between your fingers. Remus leaned his head against your forearm and let out a contented sigh that made your heart rate speed up. 

Peering up at you through his eyelashes, Remus’s lips twitched slightly, but his blush didn’t fade — and so, before you could lose your courage, you whispered, “You still want that hug, or what?” 

"If... if it’s okay,” Remus muttered. 

You nodded and leaned against the back of the sofa, letting Remus sink into your embrace and put his head on your chest. Slowly, you adjusted your position until you were lying on the sofa with Remus curled into your side, his head resting just above your heart, which was beating so fast you almost thought it would explode.

Because Merlin, this was Remus — quiet, shy, closed-off Remus, who you didn’t know as well as James, Peter, and Sirius, and who had always seemed like he didn’t like touching other people. Aside from the fact that he was your study partner, the two of you rarely talked one-on-one, and now here he was, falling asleep on your chest.

But instead of speaking, you just continued to play with Remus’s hair, closing your eyes and taking a deep breath. It didn’t help; your heart was still beating so loudly that you were sure Remus could hear it. 

Reaching down, you ran your thumb over Remus’s cheekbone, watching as the corners of his lips turned upwards. After a few seconds of silence, Remus extended his arm across your torso, rubbing his own thumb over the dip in your hips, as if to say don’t let go. 

And so, despite the deafening pounding of your heart in your ears, you buried your face into Remus’s hair and closed your eyes.

“Your heartbeat is calming,” Remus whispered into your collarbone, and you opened your eyes slowly, wondering if this was all just a surreal sort of dream.

“I’m certainly not calm,” you mumbled, and Remus’s shoulders shook slightly as he chuckled.

“Well, I’m not either,” Remus replied, so quietly you had to strain your ears. “So we’re even.”

Letting your eyelids flutter closed, you intertwined your legs with Remus’s and continued to rub your thumb on the soft skin of his cheek. The crackling of the fire in the hearth was the only sound apart from the heartbeat both of you could hear.

request a fic / masterlist

[a-solitary-marshmallow]

Rewind Chapter 10 - A Well-Deserved Rest

Me: "Now that we're reaching the end, the chapters will come a lot faster" :) Me now, a month later, sweating: "Okay so that was a lie"

My bad! Been pretty busy and I completely forgot to update this fic. Welp, hope you guys enjoy the chapter <3

________________________________________________________________

Stan’s awareness came back to him in little bits. The first thing he noticed was what his skin stung all over – like when he and Ford had gotten sunburnt on the beach, back when they first found the Stan ‘O War. It hurt when he moved his face. The next thing that came to him was the feeling of sticks and leaves and snow under his knees. His breaths were rasping in his throat, and sparks pitter-pattered to the ground before him. Ford’s fingers were digging into his arm and there was a triangle-shaped sunspot in his vision where the explosion had burned into his eyes. His heart was pounding, probably full of that chemical Ford talked about one time – ad-reny-lin?

“Oh mah lord!” Fiddleford’s voice sounded, muffled in Stan’s ears, high-pitched and breathless. “Oh my – are you two alright? Stanley, Stanford? Yer okay, right?”

“Um.” Stan did a quick mental once-over. “Yeah. I’m good.”

He tried to wriggle out of Ford’s grip but his brother was holding tight, breaths coming quick and fast. Stan managed to twist around to catch sight of Ford’s stunned expression. His cheeks and nose were a sunburned pink and he stared at where the triangle had just been with wide eyes.

“Ford, let me go.”

“What?” The scientist blinked, before quickly realizing who had spoken and bursting into action. “Stanley! Are you hurt? You were so close to the explosion-”

Before Stan could speak up Ford had adjusted his grip, grabbing Stan’s shoulders to scan him for injuries. Stan took the opportunity to look around. The whole clearing was kinda scorched, snow steaming where Bill had been only moments ago. The smell of burning filled his nose and he wrinkled his face up in displeasure, which only made it sting more.

And there was someone rushing towards them – Fidds! The thin scientist clutched the rifle to his chest with bandaged-up hands as he sloshed through half-melted snow.

Ford was still fussing, like their mother used to when one of them came home with a scraped knee or bloody nose. Stan pushed his hands away (one of which was bleeding through a temporary bandage, what happened to his hand???) “Ford, getoff! I’m fine.”

Ford snatched his hands back, a weird look on his face, before his eyes lit up as Fiddleford reached them. He grinned up at his old friend with something like amazement, and for a moment he looked kinda how Stan remembered him – a kid, all full of excitement and curiosity and shiny eyes.

“It worked. I can’t believe it worked!”

“Ah’m just glad I hit the bugger.” Fiddleford’s voice was still high and reedy – at least, more so than usual. “Look, I’m happy yer okay and all but let’s take this back to the house. Who knows what creepy things are hidin’ out here in the woods.”

Ford stood and the adults started talking about boring things. Stan did not get up yet. He took a deep breath and felt his heart rate begin to slow and suddenly realized that he was very tired.

It seemed kind of… anticlimactic, if Stan was being honest. He was expecting a huge showdown, during the pouring rain or a snowstorm, with fire in the background and maybe some lasers and explosions.

Instead he got a bully of a demon, scraped knees and Ford clutching him like his life depended on it.

Once Stan stood up, he quickly realized that those warm and fluffy boots Bill had created had disappeared alongside the demon, and his feet were numb again. It figured. He could probably walk back, but it would hurt like crazy. How long did it take to get frostbite? If he lost a toe or something it would be pretty cool. Babes loved scars, right?

Then again, seeing how every bone in his body felt like it was made of lead and his eyelids kept drooping shut on their own, maybe he couldn’t walk all the way back. He rubbed an eye with his fist and cast a glance at the two adults nearby – Ford insisting that the other man needed to go to the hospital to get his burns treated, Fiddleford retorting that he, in fact, did not. Fidds wouldn’t be able to give him a lift, not with how both his hands were injured.

Stan cringed. It was his stupid fault that Fidds had been hurt at all – he’d gotten burned trying to fix Stan’s dumb mistake. If Stan had just used his brain, not been such a moron, not messed with Ford’s experiments, then none of this would have happened in the first place. Why did he ever think he could help? Stan was just a no-good ignoramus like Pa always said-

“Stanley?” Ford was looking at him now, concern in his eyes, and Stan swallowed down his shame and instead reached out with grabby hands. Ford choked.

“My feet hurt.” Stan said flatly as a way of explanation. “Gimme a lift.” If Ford really felt sorry for saying all those mean things, then didn’t he owe Stan that much? That was how the adult world worked, right?

His brother had a confused look on his face, something that would have been funny if Stan was not falling asleep on his feet and feeling very cranky. “I – I don’t want to push your boundaries. I know I haven’t been fair to you recently, and if you don’t want me to touch you-”

“Ford I’m gonna get frostbite.”

“It’s – what do you – you’re not wearing shoes!”

 _______________________________________________________________

The doctors at Gravity Falls hospital were fairly used to Ford turning up with the strangest injuries. Of course, he only went there when Fiddleford insisted. The man was terrible at following his own advice though, so Ford had to bully him into getting his injuries checked out as well. The only qualified doctor there (he was assuming the pixies that worked out of the hospital’s parking lot didn’t have valid medical licenses) took one look at the party and waved them in with a sigh.

While Ford and Fiddleford faced their treatment, Stan refused to be awake. The child had fallen dead asleep on Ford’s shoulders soon after they left the scorched clearing, and proceeded to snore in his ear the whole way to the hospital. After a quick examination (made more difficult by Stan sleepily waving away the annoyed nurse) he was declared just scraped up and ‘sunburned’. Ford, on the other hand, was subjected to the time-wasting procedure of getting stitches. Honestly, the wound wasn’t even that big! Sure it hurt, but a few painkillers and he would be back at peak condition.

Stan did not wake up on the way home. He also did not wake up when Ford placed him into his bed and tucked the blankets up to his chin. Fiddleford, hovering behind Ford anxiously, peered over his shoulder at the snoring boy.

“Is – is he okay? He’s sleepin’ awfully heavy there Stanford, are ya sure he didn’t hit his head at all?”

Ford let out a snort, fiddling with the bandages wrapped around his injured hand. “Are you kidding? Stan always sleeps like the dead. He once slept through an explosion when I messed up my chemical formulas in high school. His bed had ash on it. When he woke up the next morning he asked me where my eyebrows were.”

Fiddleford quirked an eyebrow. “Well, I guess we don’t need to worry about wakin’ him up. Come on down to th’ kitchen now – I think we need to have a talk.”

“…about what?”

Fiddleford fixed him with a stare and Ford wilted. “How about the demon ya summoned? All that junk with the portal? How yer brother got turned into a kid and ended up havin’ to shoulder all this? Or about watchin’ me go half mad and not thinking that, just maybe, the whole portal deal was dangerous?”

Ford winced. Fiddleford patted him on the shoulder, lightly – an olive branch extended across the yawning chasm between them. Ford didn’t know how to begin breaching that gap.

“O’ course, you didn’t deserve what happened to you either. So for once let’s put aside the pride and stubbornness and just talk.”

His friend’s eyes were pale blue and determined, and his hands were still shaking, and Ford didn’t deserve this kindness. He nodded.

“Okay.”

 _______________________________________________________________

Stan woke up and immediately wished he was still asleep.

His skin stung all over, his face hot and itchy against the pillow he was curled up against. His feet ached and there was a crick in his neck, like he’d been thrown around on a rollercoaster. The sound of light scritching filled his ears – the scratching of a pen on paper from somewhere close by.

Being awake was overrated anyway. He tried to ignore the stinging and burrowed deeper into his blankets.

…nope, he was awake for good now. Darn it.

Stan peered up sleepily, blinking as his eyes adjusted to the dim lighting. Ford’s room again? This felt weirdly familiar, like when he’d first woken up in the future. And like that time Ford was across the room at his desk, scribbling away in his fancy journal.

Stan rubbed his eyes and slung his legs over the edge of the bed, carefully dropping to the floor below. It was cold on his aching feet but he could stand, which was a plus! So he probably didn’t have frostbite.

Stan yawned and headed across the room to where his brother was frantically journaling.

“Mornin’, Sixer.”

“Oh! Good morning, Stanley.” Ford clicked his pen and looked around. Stan muffled a shriek.

“Oh geez! What’s wrong with your face?”

Ford’s face was green and shiny and very not normal. The scientist rolled his eyes and explained as though it was obvious, “It’s just a burn gel. I developed it to be far more effective than the regular medicinal kind. Now that you’re awake, you should put it on too.”

Stan let out a nervous laugh. “Uh, no thanks, I think I’m all better now-”

Ford caught him by the shirt before Stan could bolt. He kicked and complained as his brother produced a tube of gel.

“Don’t you dare put that on me, it looks like snot-”

Ford smeared a bit on his cheek.

It… actually made the pain go away. Stan stilled as the cool gel took effect, numbing the stinging of his skin. Ford let him go and offered him the tube. Stan wanted to smack it out of his hands just to stop Ford making that smug face, but his skin really stung…

He took the tube.

“Better now?” Ford said, annoyingly smug. Stan poked his tongue out. “Very mature, Stanley.”

“I’m not the adult! I’m not supposed to be mature.”

“That’s very true.” Ford turned around in his chair and continued writing.

Once Stan was done covering his face in gross-looking gel he stretched up on his tiptoes to see what Ford was doing. The nerd had one of his journals and he was writing in a new entry, a bunch of crumpled-up pieces of paper littering the table. Even if Stan had been good at reading, he doubted he would be able to understand Ford’s loopy scribbles.

“Where’s Fidds?” Stan asked after a moment. Ford reached the end of the page and flipped over to a fresh one.

“He’s gone home to see his family. Now that Bill isn’t a threat anymore he wants to mend bridges, so to speak. I… also need to do that.”

Ford looked around to meet his eyes and ugh, he was going to say something sappy wasn’t he? Stan reached up to try and pull himself onto the desk, but he didn’t quite have the upper body strength and ended up kicking in the air. Ford sighed, brushed his journal to the side and lifted Stan into its place. He swung his legs awkwardly.

“…I have an apology to make.” Ford said eventually. Stan tilted his head. “Listen, Stanley. I’ve recently come to terms with the fact that I – well, I haven’t been fair to you. I let anger cloud my judgment for years, I valued that anger more than my own brother. I’m sorry.” Ford lifted a head to rub at his neck, eyes darting around the room but never landing on Stan’s face. “We’ve both made mistakes, obviously, and neither of us is without blame, but… ugh, that’s not how you apologize.” He seemed to pull himself together and try again. “What I’m saying is that I was unfair to you. I was hurt so I hurt you, and I think I may have ruined your life-”

Stan burst out laughing.

He didn’t mean to laugh, honest, but the sight of Ford’s nervous, sincere expression covered in green goo was just too much to handle. He tried to stifle his giggles with his hands, caught sight of Ford’s shocked face, and burst out laughing again so hard that his ribs hurt.

“I – this is funny to you? I’m trying to apologize-”

“No, it’s not that!” The hurt in Ford’s voice made everything a little less funny. Stan opened his mouth to explain, choked on his own spit and went into a coughing fit. It turns out, it’s hard to speak when you’re hacking your lungs up. Ford seemed to take pity on him and thumped him on the back until Stan could breathe again. “It’s just-” Another cough. “You look so funny, Poindexter.”

Ford’s eyebrows furrowed, and Stan pointed at his own green face to demonstrate.

“We look like ogres and you’re choosing now to be all sappy and sorry. I mean, you gotta see that it’s a bit funny.”

“…I suppose.” The corner of Ford’s mouth lifted and he didn’t look mad, so Stan took that as a win. He paused, trying to understand everything that Ford had just thrown at him. Most of it was just confusing, and Ford really seemed to have decide that the weird dreams were memories even though Stan didn’t get most of them. He wasn’t dumb though. That science fair thing actually had happened, with Stan ruining Ford’s project and getting kicked out. Reaching out to his brother and having the curtains being closed in his face – that had really happened.

As for the rest, all those dark and depressing ones, he kinda hoped they were just dreams. If they weren’t, if they were real, he wasn’t sure he wanted to live through them.

…no, wait. He already had lived through them, hadn’t he? He just couldn’t remember it. Because these were memories he’d lost and was getting back, Ford said so. Stan wondered what kind of person he’d ended up being. Probably cool and badass. With a sword. No, knuckledusters, those were way cooler! And maybe an eyepatch.

He got the sense that a grown-up him with all those memories and experiences would be angrier, but he couldn’t imagine any version of himself turning their back on their brother.

“I mean, I don’t think you ruined my life.” Stan reasoned, making Ford blink. “It was Pa that kicked me out, right?”

“But it was my fault-”

“And probably mine too. I make plenty of mistakes. You remember that time I kinda accidentally stole Pa’s medallion because I broke the case and panicked?”

Ford let out a little laugh. Stan reached out to punch him in the shoulder.

“Look, I dunno, I’m a kid. You gotta talk to grown-up me. But I’ll always forgive ya, Ford. Otherwise I’d be a hip-oh-crit.”

“The word is ‘hypocrite’.” Ford muttered quietly, and Stan could have sworn his brother’s eyes were pink and shiny. He decided to be very cool and nice and not mention it.

“But!” Stan pointed a finger at Ford’s nose and the man went cross-eyed looking at it. “I’m still mad about you being a jerk. You gotta make up for that.”

“…what do you want me to do?”

Hm. Stan hadn’t thought this far ahead. He paused as he thought. “You have to… take me on an adventure! And I get to ride on your shoulders and be tall whenever I want.”

Ford opened his mouth to argue, and then closed it again. Stan fist-pumped triumphantly.

“Yes! No takebacks! I wanna go beat up those unicorns!”

“Sure, Stan.” Ford let out a long-suffering sigh, but not the serious kind – the joking kind that meant he was having fun. It felt nice. It felt like coming home.

[chockfullofsecrets]

widowmauk pt. 3 is going to be so, so long even without the yasha and molly cuddles (like, 2.7k and i’m just now getting to the part where Molly really digs in long), so as I promised builduplover!anon here’s that intro in the meantime!

It would be nice - very nice - if Caleb could work his way around to being just a little less repressed, but there’s plenty to busy himself with in the meantime. Molly passes the days heckling Beau and finding flowers with Yasha and helping Jester sneakily tickle the others awake after watch - they’re coming up on Shady Creek Run and the promise of another big payout, and it’s easy to be optimistic about their little group of assholes and what the future might hold.

And then Lorenzo happens.

There’s a lot of pain. Then there’s a lot of nothing, which is almost worse, just the phantom sensation of ravens drifting just out of sight - and then, with a flash of light and a scream that he can’t suppress despite knowing he’s not buried again, he wakes up.

At least he can still talk this time.

Jester and a new cleric, this tall guy with floppy ears and a refreshingly dramatic taste in outfits, put him in bed and tell him firmly to stay there. The others drift in and out through the days of recovery, piling flowers and trinkets and even a couple ball bearings on the rickety wooden stool that’s dragged over as a makeshift table.

Yasha never leaves his side, nursing her own set of bruises, but as time creeps on she gets quiet and restless. He finally lolls awake to see her watching storm clouds out the window, her labored breath the only noise in the room as they boil overhead, and beckons her over. 

By now he’s strong enough to sit himself up and tow her in by the wrist, pressing a cheeky kiss to the back of her knuckles. “He’s telling you to leave, dear, isn’t he.”

Yasha leans in and drops her chin onto the top of his head. “I won’t leave you,” she tells the wall behind him. “I have to stay and make sure that you’re going to be okay. He’ll understand.”

“Oh, I’m fine,” Molly says cheerily. It’s a well practiced dance by now, squirming out from under the gentle pressure of her jaw to look her in the eyes. “I’m just staying in bed because Jester promised me pastries tomorrow and if I don’t do what she says they’re going to end up all over me instead of in my mouth.”

The corner of her mouth twitches up. “I don’t know if that’ll work - remember when we gave you that spun sugar stuff Gustav was thinking of selling?”

“Oh, gods,” Molly groans. “It’s a good thing I didn’t have this coat yet - didn’t you have to throw what I was wearing away?”

“Ornna turned them into rags, I think,” Yasha says, tugging lightly at an embroidered sleeve. “They did get very sticky.”

“I think you had to tickle me for a solid hour to get all the energy from the sugar out.” Molly leans back into her, sneaking a hand out to pinch lightly at the side of her thigh. “And to think, I didn’t even know how to get you back yet.”

She jumps as he spiders his way up over her hip, catching his hand before he can dig into her ribs. “You deserved it,” she reminds him. “If I don’t stay, who’s going to keep you out of trouble?”

“Hey, I have quite a bit of fun being in trouble!” he protests. 

“Do you,” she says, amused.

And oh, Molly knows that tone. His toes curl reflexively under the blankets.

He has one arm pinned against Yasha’s belly in front of him and the other caught firmly by the wrist, so there’s nowhere for him to go when she reaches around and scrunches her fingertips against the small of his back. “Nnn - hhh - yehes!” He wriggles happily as Yasha scritches her way up along his spine, muffling his snickering in her shoulder - the bright, squirming sensations working up the back of his neck and down his tail make him feel more awake than he has in days.

She runs a finger along his shoulder blade with a sudden gentleness that makes him whimper and twist away - abruptly, the brightness gathering in his chest sharpens to a burn. “Ah! - ah, Yasha, hold on-”

It comes out more pained than he means it to, and Yasha withdraws immediately to steady him by the shoulders. “Oh no, are you okay? Here, lie down-”

“It’s fine, just a twinge-”

Yasha practically flattens him onto the mattress, tucking worn-soft sheets up around his chest. “Jester was right, you do need more rest.” 

Molly sighs and grabs her hand again, pressing it over his heart. Her palm is warmer than it has any right to be, even through the blanket, and all he wants to do is cuddle up with her, but - “Alright, then. I’ll stay here, and you go do whatever it is that the Storm Lord’s telling you to.”

The storm clouds are in her eyes now, gathering over mismatched blue and purple. “Molly, I don’t know-”

“Nothing will happen,” he stresses, squeezing her hand. “There are six other people between me and the door of this inn - I’ll be lucky if I get to touch an ale before you get back.”

She chews her lip, looks out at the window again. “You’ll stay safe.”

“I’ll stay safe. Look, the firbolg - Mr. Clay? - told me that you guys used an entire diamond on me. That’s an investment, dear, I’m not planning to waste it.”

Yasha hums and reaches to pet him between his horns. They’re on the edge of a goodbye, he knows, and one that’s very much his own fault, but the feeling is familiar and warm as always and when his chest rumbles into a purr he does nothing to stop it. “I like that… an investment. I’ll go keep paying my own, and then I’ll come back to you.”

The petting makes him hazy, tumbling him halfway to sleep, but he still feels her kiss his forehead before she leaves.

[babbushka]

Anniversary (Just A Job Epilogue)

Hello everyone! Some of you may be familiar with a fic I wrote a while back called Just A Job, which was a Flip Zimmerman x Jewish!reader fic that took place during the time of Blackkklansman. 

To celebrate the one year anniversary of the film, I thought I might write a short epilogue for the fic, to see how our favorite couple has been doing! I hope you enjoy <3

Word count: 5k

Warnings: NSFW content, mentions of pregnancy (pregnant sex), mentions of war, potential PTSD, minor angst, mostly fluff :^)

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

It had been a year.

One year since the Big Case, as everyone called it. One year since the most dangerous fucking case Flip Zimmerman had ever taken on.

Sometimes, he still can’t believe that it went as well as it did.

Sometimes, he’s not so sure it did.

You were asleep, lying next to him in your bed. Your eyelashes brushed against your cheek as you breathed gently, softly snoring from where your nose was pressed into your pillow. God you looked so peaceful, lost in what Flip hoped were good dreams.

Flip watched you, breathed in time with the rise and fall of your chest. Outside the world turned around you, the gentle engine of cars could be heard on the main road just outside your neighborhood, next door the Johnson’s dog barked in the front lawn, chasing the sprinklers. Flip heard bird chirps and airplanes and kids laughing on their way to school, but in your bedroom there was only you, and the rise and fall of your chest.

It was a shame to wake you, he knew that, but he needed to make sure you were real, needed to make sure nothing had happened to you. He had grown so protective, over the course of the year. Not that he hadn’t always been protective, because he had, oh he had. But now it was more acute, he was more aware of all the dangers.

Sometimes he thought of the look on your face that day at the station, dirt staining your sweater as you sobbed and sobbed.

The thought made his stomach sink.

He shuffled closer to you under the covers, watched as the sunlight caught the little floating specs of dust and fibers that his movement kicked up into the air. He lowered his face to yours, softly, ever so softly, nuzzled his nose against yours.

You smiled, shut eyes crinkling at the corners as he pressed sweet kisses to your lips, to your cheek, your eyelids. You reached for him blindly, hand searching the covers. He liked that you did that, even in that state of not quite awake, you reached for him. Flip gently held your palm, brought it up to his cheek.

You cupped his cheek, pulled him down by the ear so that you could kiss him properly.

He smiled against your lips, parted your mouth with his tongue, lazily made out with you until you were all the way awake, eyes blinking open properly.

“’Morning.” You hummed as he rolled over you, propped himself up on his elbows as he kissed down your neck and shoulders, across your chest.

“Morning.” He replied, sighing into your skin as he tugged down the covers to expose your breasts.

He gave them each kisses, rubbed his face in-between them, pressed his face against you and breathed you in. Your hands roamed around his back, soothing circles and gentle caresses. One of your hands wandered into his hair, scritched at his scalp in the way that always made him melt.

“You doin’ okay?” You whispered, and Flip sighed, knowing what you meant.

He’d been having trouble sleeping lately, with the anniversary of the case coming up. Sometimes he’d wake up in the middle of the night completely covered in sweat, freezing cold and shaking with all the covers thrown off. Other times he couldn’t fall asleep at all, no matter how many hot cups of milk or cocoa or tea you would make him.

You stayed up with him those times, and he hated to see it wear you down too. He’d tried telling you to just ignore him and get the sleep you needed, but there was no way you’d hear it.

“It’s Saturday,” Flip sighed. “Can you believe it? A whole year on Saturday.”

“I believe it.” You nodded, “Have you talked to Ron? Is he going through it too?”

Flip helped you maneuver onto your side. He had read in one of the books that laying on your back wasn’t good once you were far enough along, so he went out and bought more pillows than was probably necessary to help prop you whichever way was most comfortable.

Flip helped you settle, and then he settled in against you, a big warm hand smoothing over your stomach.

“We talk at the bar, I think it’s affecting him. It’d be strange if it didn’t.” Flip said quietly, “All that hard fucking work, and for none of it to go public.”

“Maybe you can try again, now that some time has passed?” You asked with a hopeful smile.

Flip sighed, nodded. He scrubbed a hand down his face and sucked his teeth. It was something he’d wanted to do for a long time, these past four months especially. It wasn’t enough to have gotten the scum off the streets, it wasn’t enough for him to get a big raise and a medal from the city and all the other shit.

“The people deserve to know what goes on in their town.” Flip said, frowning just a little, determined.

You smiled, rubbed your finger in-between his eyebrows to get rid of the frown lines there. He let a little huff of a laugh out when you did that, like he always did, thought it was sweet the way you wiped away his worries.

“Anything I can do to help sweeten the chief up?” You asked, making him smile and shake his head.

“No, you’re sweet enough as it is.” Flip kissed you, gathered you up in his arms as best as he could and kissed you some more, “And I don’t want to share.”

Flip breathed into your kisses, let all the tension slip away from his shoulders. You were fine, you were there, in his arms safe and sound. If he had his way, you’d never leave this bed. He’d never leave it either, but work was a bitch and most days he had to deal with it.

Not today though, much to both of your relief.

“Are you going in today?” You asked, stretching and sighing as you popped and cracked your joints.

“Is it Wednesday?” Flip asked in return, unsure of anything. The lack of sleep was getting to him, he was starting to lose track of what day it was. Luckily it was still early enough in the day that if he did need to go in, there would be time for a quick shower and a speedy drive to the station.

“Yes sir.” You said with a big smile, canceling all of those plans.

“Then no, I’m not going in today.” Flip responded, dragging the covers over his head dramatically and making you laugh.

You ducked under the covers with him too, and even under the sheets you looked like an angel. White cotton framing your beautiful face, he swooped in to kiss you, had to kiss you right then and there or else he might just die.

“Good, because I don’t think I’d let you go even if you did.” You grinned against his lips, holding him close. Your hands were so hot and sweaty on his back, but he found it endearing. He reached for one and pressed little kisses along the palm and fingertips.

“Can we do something fun today? Something out of the house? I swear sometimes I feel so fuckin’ old.” Flip groaned, trying his damnest to get as close to you as possible.

“You’re thirty-six, that’s not old.” You rolled your eyes, making him groan.

He felt like he had aged another ten years over the course of that fucking case.

Just last week he swore he saw a silver hair or two peeking at his temple. You had instructed him not to pluck them, because you loved them, but he wasn’t so sure. It just made him feel tired. He’d been working so hard, ever since you started showing especially. For some reason it didn’t feel real to him, until then.

You’d both been trying for so long, months and months, and now he could see the result of all that, could feel it.  

“How are you feeling?” He asked, carefully rubbing soothing circles on your stomach.

“Not so nauseous anymore, I think it’s slowly subsiding.” You hummed at the touch, eyes closing just from the peacefulness of it.

“Good.” Flip had been so worried, had read in all the books that morning sickness was normal, but was still so worried. He hated seeing you bent over the toilet, hated the way you cried as he held your hair and kissed the spot in between your shoulder-blades.

“Speaking of which, bathroom?” You asked, your body catching up with your mind.

Flip helped you sit up and the two of you walked to the bathroom, going through your morning routines.

With bladders emptied and teeth brushed, you retreated back to bed just for a little while longer. It was barely seven o’clock in the morning, Flip didn’t want you doing anything more than you absolutely had to, and right now, all you had to do was be beautiful.

Because you were, with that glow everyone had mentioned. You were glowing all the time now, radiant. You were always radiant, but now Flip had an excuse to tell you even more than usual.

He took such pride whenever someone complimented you at the station, how healthy your hair looked, the flush on your cheeks. Flip was proud to have him on your arm. He especially loved buying you new clothes to better fit your changing body.

You weren’t so big yet, only four months along, but he had gone out and gotten you so many dresses that you had absolutely fawned over; pretty florals and ginghams and plaids that had the most breathable draping so you wouldn’t overheat in the hot summer weather. He wanted nothing but the best for you.

“You’re so beautiful.” Flip sighed, tucking his head against your shoulder, shoving his face into your neck.  

“It’s good you think that because I feel so gross.” You groaned, making him pull back, looking scandalized.

“No one said pregnancy was easy, or clean.” He said simply, kissing your cheek over and over again “You’re gorgeous, radiant, glowing – !”

You laughed when his goatee tickled you, and the two of you wrestled very minorly in bed, trying to get a hold of the other’s face for kisses.

“I think doing something fun sounds like a great idea, I love being home but I’m starting to feel cooped up. Besides, it’s such a lovely day.” You held his hand under the covers, and Flip nodded.

“What would you like to do?” He asked, and you laughed.

“I don’t know, all our attraction spots are hiking.” You chuckled, probably imagining trying to climb a mountain in your current state.

Maybe a month or so earlier, Flip might’ve entertained the idea, but not now.

“Yeah I’m not letting you hike.” He shook his head with a smile, humming in thought. “Maybe we could go to the park for the day? Get you some sunshine and have a picnic, then go out to dinner and watch a movie?”

He’d been taking you out to eat more and more frequently. It just wasn’t fair or right to have you cook dinner, and god knows Flip tried his best but none of his ever worked out. Even with you sitting right next to him telling him what to do, he still managed to burn or undercook or over-salt or underseason everything. Most days you insisted, and made something light, but a couple times a week Flip would insist on just treating you to an evening off, where someone else was in charge of doing the dishes.

“That sounds like just what the doctor ordered.” You smiled like you were up to something devious, a glint in your eye that Flip recognized as only one thing, “But first…”

You pressed him flat onto the mattress, swinging a leg over his hips and straddling him.

“Oh?” He swallowed, grinned, hands immediately coming up to grasp your tits, massage them in his hands.

If his cock wasn’t rock hard yet, it was then.

“Please? I’m so hot for you honey.” You bit your lip, leaned over as much as you could and kissed his chest, sucked marks onto his neck.

“Fuck I like you like this,” Flip groaned, lifting your hips to line his cock up and slide into you making you let out the most satisfying moan he’d ever heard. “You’re so beautiful – oh fuck.”

Your sex drive had been out the fucking roof lately. Sometimes Flip felt like he was going to die a happy man, that your cunt would actually be the end of him. You’d always loved sex, but now it was crazy, the smallest thing could set you off, get you wet for him. You blamed it on the hormones, and Flip certainly wasn’t going to complain.

“Good, you better like this, because I’m going to want more kids.” You laughed, a laugh that broke off into a sharp gasp as you started moving your hips, riding Flip with a vigor he was thrilled to meet.

“I’ll give them to you, get you knocked up as much as you want – we’re gonna have such a big fucking family.” Flip nodded, licked his lips and grabbed your waist, fucked up into you.

Your mouth had dropped open and your chest was practically fucking heaving, your pussy so hot and wet for him, like velvet wrapped around his cock as he rocked his hips into you.

Like everything else, he had been so nervous when you wanted to have sex, was terrified it would hurt the baby. You laughed and told him that just because he had a big cock, didn’t mean it was going to do any damage. It only took a couple days of convincing before Flip was fucking you all over the damn house, making you come again and again on just about every piece of furniture you owned.

“Oh shit!” Your eyes flew open suddenly and one of your hands smacked against your back.

Flip stopped immediately, pulled out of you and laid you back down.

“Wait, here – ” Flip said, mind going into overdrive. You’d been having cramps a little more frequently, not yet used to the weight of the baby. Flip helped you get on your side, supported by all those fucking pillows, and sidled up behind you, sliding his cock back in. “Better?”

“Oh, Flip – yes!” You gasped, looking over your shoulder to kiss him as he thrust into you on your side.

Trying to find the right positions had been tricky in the beginning, but you both had a pretty good handle on things now.

You were crying from pleasure, which was Flip’s absolute favorite fucking thing, the way you chanted his name over and over as he fucked your hot cunt and pinched at your nipples – which proved to be a bad idea.

“Oh fuck ketsl, I’m sorry.” Flip immediately apologized as your tits started leaking all over his hands and getting onto the sheets.

“It’s okay! Don’t stop, don’t fucking stop.” Your head was thrown back over his shoulder, and you shouted, coming on his cock.

Flip thrust into you only a couple more times before he pressed his hips as close to you as he could, and came, blowing his load so deep into you that he had to bite your shoulder just to stop himself from shouting too loudly.

“I love you.” You panted, completely blissed out and covered in sweat and all sorts of fluids that meant Flip would definitely be changing the sheets for the third time that week.

“You’re the best fucking thing that’s ever happened to me, you know that?” Flip said back, equally out of breath, his own orgasm still shaking through him.

“I know.” You laughed, and he laughed too, because of course you did.

 After a long shower where the two of you scrubbed yourself clean and stole soapy kisses from one another, Flip helped you prepare a big lunch to bring to the park.

You had recently purchased a ton of new Tupperware containers from one of your friends at the moms to be classes, and Flip loaded them up with some leftover fried chicken, egg salad sandwiches, club sandwiches, bags of chips, fresh fruits that you let Flip slice, and bottles of water to fend off the heat of the day.

Flip loaded the basket and a blanket into the trunk, and helped you into the passenger seat of the truck held your hand the whole way across town.

The drive down to the park was beautiful, but he couldn’t help but steal glances at you every now and again.

You were wearing one of the new dresses, a floral one. You just looked like absolute sunshine, the way your hair blew around in the breeze, how your necklace sparkled in the light. He kissed you at every red light, made you laugh and tease him, telling him to keep his eyes on the road, even though he only had eyes for you.

 “How are you feeling?” Flip asked once you were settled on the picnic blanket in the park.

There weren’t too many parks like this in town, just pretty fields of soft grasses and wildflowers, where kids and dogs could run around and people could picnic in the sunshine. Colorado Springs boasted beautiful mountains, but Flip wanted to keep you far away from treacherous trails and water falls – for the time being, anyway.

“My ankles are swollen to all hell and my back is killing me, but other than that I’m great.” You chuckled, shifting on the big pillow that Flip had laid down for you so you could comfortably be propped slightly onto your side.

You had both enjoyed a delicious lunch, the remnants of it packed back away in the wicker basket that weighed down the blanket in the cool breeze.

“Can I listen?” Flip asked, gesturing to your stomach.

“Just be careful.” You nodded with a gentle smile, “They’re feisty.”

The baby had been very active the past week or so. Kicking was more and more frequent, and on more than one occasion when Flip had leaned down to rest his ear against your skin, he’d felt the small jab of a foot.  

“Well of course they are, just look at their mother.” Flip grinned up at you as he laid down on the blanket, using your stomach as a pillow of sorts.

“Oh no no no! You can’t blame this all on me, Detective Zimmerman.” You tugged on Flip’s ear, making him laugh, “This baby is going to be just as much of a troublemaker as you are, I’m fully prepared for that.”

“I am not a troublemaker.” Flip scoffed, and you arched an eyebrow, combing your fingers through his hair nonetheless.

“Do you remember our first date? How you broke us into the zoo after hours and we got to feed the giraffes even though we were absolutely not supposed to? And then security chased us all the way to the front gates?” You hummed, reminiscing.

“I only remember kissing you by the lion enclosure.” Flip blushed, “And excuse me, Mrs. Zimmerman, but I’m pretty sure the zoo was your idea to begin with.”

“It was not! I wanted to go ice skating.” You laughed, making him laugh too.

The baby kicked, Flip smiled at the thought that they liked the sound of your voices.

“Oh yeah.” Flip admitted, “But then remember, I took you ice skating and you fell so many times you almost broke your tailbone?”

“I do remember that.” You laughed. Flip had put a heating pad on your back for a week until you weren’t sore anymore, and that was only three weeks into dating.

“Do you think they’ll be good at ice skating?” Flip asked, wondering out loud, feeling your heartbeat through your skin as he listened to his baby.

“Looking for an Olympian, are we?” You hummed, your eyes closed, soaking up the rays of the afternoon sun.

“I used to want to be an Olympian.” Flip suddenly got strangely sentimental.

He’d been doing better, about the whole discussing his feelings thing. Especially now that he was going to be a dad, he didn’t want to ever be the kind of father that was silent all the time, that was reserved and uninterested, that buried his feelings. He wanted to teach his kid all the things he wished he had learned growing up, and this was one of them.

“One-hundred meter sprint, I remember.” You encouraged Flip, you always did. Never made a big deal about him opening up, never made a whole to-do about it. You just supported him and encouraged him like the angel you were. “I liked watching you run, I still do.”

“Maybe baby Zimmerman will be an Olympian, or an artist, or a doctor – not a lawyer.” Flip grimaced at the thought of his baby being a lawyer, and you laughed, tugged on his ear again.

“Hey, half our family are lawyers.” You reminded him.

“They’re the half we don’t talk to.” Flip teased, making you laugh again.

He loved the sound of your laugh.

“And here I thought you’d want them to be a cop, like their dad.” You mused.

 Flip frowned, for some reason that had never occurred to him.

 Once the park had grown too hot and crowded for both of your tastes, Flip packed up the truck and drove you to a lovely little Italian restaurant nearby the house.

You ate sitting side by side in a booth, pushing the table forward enough to accommodate your stomach. You had been craving garlic, and Flip couldn’t think of a better place to let you get your fill – Gino’s had unlimited garlic rolls.

You laughed about his sunburn that he got on the bridge of his nose, and he teased you for the spinach you had stuck between your teeth, and you kissed by the candlelight and ordered two different cannoli’s for dessert.

You both decided to skip the movie, the only thing that was playing was that new horror movie, The Exorcist, and Flip had promised Jimmy he’d go see it with him on Friday.

So, the evening found you and Flip sitting up in bed, reading over some case files as usual.

“Do you like that I’m a cop?” Flip asked, putting down the file he had been leafing through.

It was an old one, from the case. He’d been going over them more and more lately, wanting to do something about the whole fucking situation.

“What do you mean?” You asked, laying down on your side, taking his hand in yours and kissing the knuckles.

“Ron and Patrice, they get into this argument sometimes.” Flip said, running his other hand through his hair. “She doesn’t like that he’s a cop, feels like he’s betraying his own people by putting on a uniform.”

“I don’t blame her. People in those uniforms terrorize them.” You replied simply.

“Yeah.” Flip swallowed.

“They terrorize people like us too. Like our friends. People like Ron and Patrice and Harry and Bridges, all of us.” You said, softly.  

“But I’m not just a shitty beat cop, I’m a detective.” Flip tried, even though he knew it didn’t hold any real weight.

“Do you remember when you left to go to ‘Nam?” You asked, and Flip went silent. “I almost hated you for that. I wanted to, I was so angry with you. You had just proposed to me and then you were leaving.”

You shuffled over enough to rest your head on his chest, and he wrapped an arm around your shoulders, hugged you close.

“I thought I’d never see you again, I thought you’d go and die in a war that no one wanted, that you shouldn’t have left for, that I was going to be all alone with just the thought of you.” You continued.

“I know.” Flip said, remembering how terrified you looked.

“And do you remember what you told me?” You asked.

“I told you that I had to go. They picked me and I had to, that I didn’t have a choice.” Flip’s voice caught in his throat.

“You were so young then, do you remember? How your ears stuck out so far when they shaved your head?” You asked quietly.

“I remember.” Flip nodded.

He had been barely 27, but still not the youngest guy in his team. He wrote you letters whenever he could, wasn’t able to deliver any of them to you, but he wrote them.

“When you came back home I don’t think I ever cried harder – and then you went and joined the police. And there was that fear, all over again, that you would go out and follow someone else’s orders, that you would die playing someone else’s game.” You looked up at him, at his wet eyes, remembering how dark things felt all that time ago.

He hadn’t felt anything that dark in a long time, but this whole business with the case, that made him feel it too.

“There’s always a choice. But just like you made yours, I made mine. I chose to stay with you because I love you, because I know you’re a good man.” You kissed his hand, kissed it and kissed it again, kissed the gold band that lived on his finger.

Flip watched you, his heart thudding wildly in his chest.

It was quiet, so quiet in the house. He could hear every cricket and frog and buzz and chirp outside, could hear all the way down to the city. It was so quiet, felt like time stood still.

He looked down at you, brushed your hair behind your ear, put the case files on the night stand and slid down the bed to lay next to you, to take your hand in his and kiss your knuckles.

“You’re the only reason I do all this, you know that?” He whispered, not wanting to be too loud, not wanting to be overheard by the nature that surrounded him. “You and this bun in the oven we’ve got.”

“Phil.” You said, eyes soft, sad at the way his voice broke.

“I’ve seen so much shit, I know how bad the world is. I joined because I want to keep you safe, above everything else. You’re the only fucking thing that matters to me. I want you and our kids to walk around town and not feel like you’ve got a target on your back for the necklace around your neck. And maybe I didn’t make the right choices, maybe I didn’t know what the right choices were, but I made decisions that I thought would keep you safe.” He didn’t know why he was saying all this.

“I know honey.” You nodded, encouraging him, always encouraging.

“And then, last year, for the first fucking time I thought, maybe this was another wrong one. Maybe I’m not keeping you safe, maybe I’m putting you in more danger than before. Maybe I’m perpetuating a system that’s designed to only help a very small group of people, maybe I’m part of the problem.”

That last bit were Ron’s words from the bar, but they felt real, felt like they could be his own.

“I think, that just the fact that you’re aware of all this, already has you ten steps ahead of so many other people. You have done good work. You’ve made this community a safer place for everyone, you’ve helped catch and get rid of bad cops, and bad people.” You rest your forehead against his, “You asked if I liked that you’re a cop, and the answer is no, of course I don’t. But I love you, I see the good that you do. I see the way you’re not like them, how you try and be better, do better. Everyone can always do better.”

“You’re so brave, do you know that?” Flip asked, thinking about a year ago, thinking about how you looked evil in the face and stood tall, “You’re so brave. I don’t know how you do it.”

“We’re Jewish, we don’t have any other choice but to be brave.” You let out a wet laugh, brushing a tear away from your cheek, and from his. “’If I am not for myself, who will be for me? If I am not for others, what am I? If not now, when?’”

“If not you, who?” Flip said softly.

“Hm?” You asked, not familiar with that last part.

“Kwame Ture, he said that line at a rally last year. Ron went undercover, Jimmy and I listened in the car.” Flip explained.

“That’s a quote from Rabbi Hillel.” You smiled, “It’s a good one.”

“I’m going to make Bridges publish the case.” Flip decided, suddenly determined.

“Okay.” You said, a big grin on your radiant face.

“Tomorrow I’m going to talk to Ron, we’re going to force his hand like we should’ve last year.” Flip said, and you chuckled.

“Just don’t go getting yourself fired.” You pointed out, “Not now.”

“I want you to be proud of me.” Flip said, pressing a soft kiss to your lips.

“I’m already proud.” You assured him, placing a hand on his cheek as you kissed him again and again, pressed smooches to the corner of his mouth where you couldn’t quite reach his lips. “I wouldn’t have stuck by you all these years if I wasn’t.”

“Oh.” Flip said, swallowing hard around another one of those sentimental lumps.

“Surely you must know that.” You tugged sweetly on his ear, making him blush.

“I do, it’s just hard to believe it’s real sometimes.” Flip sighed. “I get so caught up in what the fuck I’d do if I ever lost you, the past year has been...”

He shook his head, unable to bring himself to even think about it.

“I know, but when you go to sleep, I’ll be here. And when you wake back up, I’ll still be here.” You gave his hand a firm squeeze, “If I’m not throwing up all of dinner, anyway.”

“It was a good dinner.” Flip looked at you and grinned.

As you laughed, the baby kicked, and Flip knew that even though he had made poor decisions in his day, one look at you told him he had at least made one good one. 

Taglist! @adamsnackdriver @dreamboatdriver @plomblooms @venusianmaiden @kylo-renne @kyloxfem @formerly-anonhamster @johnlennonchewinggum @callmehopeless @imaginedreamwrite (idk who else to tag im sorry if i’ve forgotten you!)

[knittedkikwi]

Ironsworn update

So I just finished my first quest. Mira is scrappy y’all. And Gabriel is best bird boy. Story is under the cut. I started getting a little more in depth with my roll notes cause keeping track of initiative in combat is a little tricky.

for anyone who’s curious but doesn’t want to read the almost 6000 words I wrote between yesterday and today, here’s the tl:dr - Mira has a terrible, no good, very bad day. Gabriel gets her back on track. She tries to be sneaky but instead gets snuck up on. She asks for macguffin. Thieves propose a trade for the only things that matter to her. Instead she opts to kill them. Fight starts badass, ends badass, but the middle is messy.

The town scatters as Mira turns to Emelyn.

“Is there any sign of which direction they went? Or who might have taken it?”

Emelyn shook her head, “No. We were unable to find any clues within the hall. Perhaps you will be able to find something around the perimeter of town. Or someone might have seen something in the night.”

“I guess I’ll start by talking to those who live closest. That’s as likely to point me in a direction as anything.” Mira turned to walk away when she felt a hand on her shoulder. When she turned back, Emelyn had a serious look on her face that appeared out of place on one who was usually so happy.

“Mira, thank you. I know Grimtree has not really opened up to you in the past few months, but please know we will do what we can to help you.”

Mira simply nodded before heading off to the nearest house.

(gather information – miss. Price is that it wastes resources)

Mira spent the rest of the day canvassing the town. Everyone she spoke with said they saw nothing the previous night. She tried searching for footprints to no avail. The ground surrounding the hall was thoroughly trampled by the earlier crowd and would certainly not offer any trails to follow. She even made several loops of the village, hoping to find tracks leading her somewhere. Nothing turned up and she eventually had to return to her room at the inn, frustrated and tired. Perhaps Sadia or Themon might have some advice. Mira decided to ask them in the morning. For now, she was too tired to do anything but fall into a deep sleep.

(strong hit – discover something helpful from Sadia or Themon.)

Mira woke early, determined to not let anymore time pass on her quest. The longer she took, the more exposed the village was. Nothing bad seemed to have happened last night, but it was only a matter of time before the creatures came calling. She pulled her tangled mass of blonde hair back into a ponytail and started putting on her new armor. Thoughts about how she might approach this investigation swirled through her head.

Sadia tended to know all of the gossip in the village. One of the perks of being the only tavern in town was that people were often drunk around you, and drunk folks were bad at keeping secrets. She could start there.

A slight tapping brought Mira out of her reverie. Gabriel was perched outside the window with a small mouse in his talons. Mira crossed the room and opened the window so Gabriel could enter. He hopped onto the small table beside the window and held the mouse out to her.

“Thanks Gabriel, but I think I will get breakfast from Sadia this morning. You enjoy your treat. We may be out hunting again soon, though,” she said. Gabriel cocked his head to the side, which Mira took to mean he was intrigued. “I have to find something stolen from the village. I have a feeling it was taken outside of town, but no one’s seen anything. Hopefully Sadia can help. Or maybe Themon.”

There was an idea. Themon was on friendly terms with most folks around here, and his penchant for give discounts in exchange for stories meant people told him quite a bit about themselves. Yes, she’d speak to both of them and hope they had heard something that could help her.

Mira looked at Gabriel just in time to see him swallow that mouse whole. “You know, I never quite get used to seeing you do that.”

He hooted at her slightly indignantly.

“Yeah, yeah, I suppose my eating is weird to you too. Now go to sleep. I’ll come get you if we get to go on a hunt.” She gave him a small scritch on top of his head before walking out to find Sadia.

The warm glow from the kitchen and occasional yelling led her right to Sadia.

“Damnit girl! You’ve let the bread rise too much! It’s more air than food at this point. Punch it down and start over.” Mira walked into the kitchen just in time to see the very disgruntled kitchen maid take out her aggression on the supposedly over risen dough. She grabbed an apple and sauntered over to where Sadia was by the fire.

“Was the bread really that bad? It didn’t seem too big to me,” she mumbled around a mouthful of apple.

“It probably could have worked, but she can do better and she knows it,” Sadia said. She threw a handful of herbs into the soup she was making before glancing sideways as Mira. “You got in late last night. Does that mean the village’s precious shield is safe?”

“No luck,” Mira sighed, “No one saw anything and any tracks were destroyed by the crowd and general hubbub of the town. I actually was hoping you might be able to help me. I don’t suppose you’ve heard anyone talking about taking it have you? Or perhaps bandits in the woods? Anything for me to go on would be a huge help.”

“Hmmmm, can’t say I’ve heard anyone talking about stealing it. I have heard some folk talk about a hearing strange sounds from the ravine out by the hills to the east,” Sadia paused to take a sip from the pot before frowning and throwing in another fistful of herbs. “I suppose that could be bandits, albeit stupid ones. If you’re planning on stealing something, don’t alert the villagers to your presence by making weird noises. That’s bound to attract attention sooner or later.”

“I can definitely check it out. It’s a bit of a trek, though. I probably won’t be able to do any chores today, if that’s alright by you.”

“Fine, fine. It’s not like you do a lot when you’re here anyways,” Sadia caught Mira’s eyes with a strangely piercing look, “But try not to get yourself killed. Those hills are dangerous in the best of times.”

Mira smiled. “I’ll do my best. I’m going to check with Themon before I head out. Maybe he’s seen these bandits.”

“Good idea. Now, get out of my kitchen before you get hair in my food.”

Mira headed out the back door, tossing her apple core to the pigs. She headed towards where Themon’s cart was parked near the square.

The merchant was starting to open shop for the morning when she arrived. She was always amazed at how much stuff he was able to fit in one cart.

“Themon, could I ask you something?”

He looked around and his face broke into a wide smile. “You’re already breaking in that armor I see. I hope the question isn’t a duel.”

Mira chuckled. “I would never challenge you to a duel. It would be unfair, seeing as I have the advantage in both youth and strength.” She smiled as she poked him in his rather soft belly.

“Ha ha ha, I suppose you’ve got me there. What can I do for you?”

“Have you heard anything about strange noises out in the ravine? Or heard any news of bandits in the area?” She glanced over towards the Main Hall. “I suppose you heard the announcement about the shield yesterday. I’ve come up with nothing except strange noises in the hills.”

“Aye, I heard the announcement. And I have heard about bandits stealing from other towns, although that was further south of here. I suppose they could have come north since my last trip, though.”

“When you say stealing items, was it always something like our shield?”

“No, this is the first time I’ve heard of them taking something like that. Usually they just break into houses or take all of the silver from the town’s longhouse. I doubt whoever did this realized what they were taking and merely recognized the value of a well crafted iron shield.”

Mira pause for a moment. That shield was the most ornate piece of iron in the village, and would probably sell for a high price if they could get it away from the area. She needed to move quickly. Mira turned to head back to the inn, then paused and looked back at Themon. “Sadia said people had her strange noises in the ravine. I don’t suppose you would know what is causing that, would you?”

Themon pursed his lips while he thought, “My best guess is that they have some sort of animal with them. Possibly dogs or horses. I can’t imagine the bandits themselves would draw attention to themselves like that on purpose.”

“So I might need to sneak past guard dogs. I better bring treats.”

“Good luck, Mira. I expect to hear the full story when you return.”

Mira looked back over her shoulder has she started walking away, “Thanks, Themon. I might save this story for the next time I need a discount though.”

Mira sprinted back to her room. The bandits were likely getting ready to move soon. She need to catch up to them before they broke down their camp. She started frantically throwing the rations she’d just bought into a pillowcase. She picked up her battle axe and shield from where they leaned against her bedpost, tucking the axe into her belt and sling the shield onto her back. The strange green cloak was hanging on the back of her door, where it had remained since she came into town. Mira sighed and then removed it from the hook. She stared at it for a moment before finally drawing it over her shoulders. She then woke up her, now grumpy, barn owl and stuck him on her shoulder. With a final glance around the room, Mira headed out to find the bandits.

(undertake a journey – miss. Pay the price – something of value is lost or destroyed.)

Mira started hiking east. She’d never really explored outside the village in the past 3 months. She was so focused on earning money towards her armor that the idea of taking a day to run around just hadn’t occurred to her. Now she wished she had. The terrain was so different from the Deep Wilds. The trees were shorter and far more scattered. There was grass instead of moss and the only wildlife she saw were birds flying high above her. This was not the terrain she had learned to track in and she wasn’t quite sure how to adapt. What bothered her the most was the hills. There was always something new behind each one, whether is was a cave or a river or even just a larger hill.

At one point, Mira managed to find what she thought was a set of tracks that led her to an old log crossing a swift river. She eyed the log with distrust. Part of it was submerged in the rapids. Who knows how sturdy that is, but the bandits came this way. Mira took a deep breath and stepped onto the log. Gabriel gave a low hoot and flew off to a tree on the other side of the river.

“Coward,” she muttered after him.

The first few steps seemed fairly solid, but she was still wary as she crossed. She moved slowly, an inch at a time. It took several minutes for her to reach the central portion of the log that was submerged. The log lurched under her, sending her head first into the water. She lashed out and managed to grab hold of a branch. The rapids tore at her as she hauled herself back onto the log. For a moment, she feared she might be strangled by her own cloak as it was pulled by the river. Finally, she got her leg back over the makeshift bridge and crawled quickly to the other side. Mira collapsed onto the ground once she reached relative safety, breathing heavily as she tried to calm her heartrate. That was far too close for her liking. She needed to sit for a moment. Mira reached for the bag of rations she had tucked into her belt, but it wasn’t there.

“Oh no…” Mira looked downriver. It’s hard to tell, but she could have sworn she could see the pillowcase rushing downriver. Gabriel swooped down to perch on her shoulder again. “Shit. It looks like we’ll be hunting if we have to spend a night out here. I probably should have taken you up on that mouse offer earlier.”

Gabriel let out a low hoo that somehow manage to sound like I told you.

(Undertake a Journey. Miss – it wastes resources.)

Mira forced herself to stand up and start walking again. She couldn’t find the trail on the other side though. No matter what tricks she used, nothing presented itself. Even Gabriel couldn’t seem to spot any trace of them from the air. They reconvened at the river once it started getting dark.

“This is pointless!” Mira picked up a rock and threw it into the river with as much force as she could. “We’ve just wasted another day and the thieves are probably halfway to the coast at this point.”

“Hoot hoot.”

“I know there’s no point in getting angry! But I made a vow and at this rate, I’m likely to fail. I just started liking Grimtree, I don’t want to be branded a Forsaker!”

“Hooooo”

“Fine, let’s make camp. We’ll try again in the morning. I don’t suppose you’d be willing to go get us some food, would you?”

Gabriel gave a head bob and soared off in search of what she hoped was rabbits. It was probably going to be more mice. He really liked mice.

(Resupply – strong hit. Supplies back to full, momentum +2 because of Gabriel. Make camp – strong hit. Choose two, focus and prepare.)

Mira started looking around for supplies. Fortunately, there was a small copse of pine trees a short way from the river. She was able to find plenty of needles to made a somewhat soft surface to sleep on. It might be a little pokey, but that’s what the armor was for. Ferrous bless Themon for still having it. Mira suspected he was saving it for her. Surely someone else had tried to buy it in the past two months.

With the bed sorted, she started collecting wood for a small fire. Ferrous bless Dotani as well. That elf made sure she knew how to make a fire on day one. She still remembered spending hours with that stupid stick trying to get any sort of flame. She was considerably faster now and had the fire going by the time Gabriel returned with not one, but two fat rabbits.

“Wow, you had a good night!”

His chest puffed up a little in pride. He always seemed to like compliments a little more than an animal should.

“Do you want me to cook both or do you want your rabbit raw?”

“Hoo”

“I can leave half raw. Pass them over.”

Mira got to work stripping them of their fur and innards. Thankfully, her axe had stayed in her belt when she fell in the river. She chopped one rabbit in half and tossed the front half up in the air. Gabriel swooped past and caught it without a sound. She started cooking the rest for herself. Now she had food for tomorrow. That owl might be the best thing that ever happened to her.

Mira looked over at her friend. “So, no luck today. Actually, really bad luck today. But, I hope we might be able to find something in the morning. Maybe the sun will show us something shining from the east instead of the west.”

“Hoot hoo”

“You can try scouting in the night if you want. Just don’t go too far. I don’t want them to see you and take a shot thinking you’re food. I’m going to go to sleep. Wake me up if you see anything dangerous, ok?”

“Hoo,” Gabriel bobbed his head again before returning to his dinner.

Mira curled up in her cloak, praying that they were getting close to this ravine.

(Undertake a Journey – weak hit. Mark progress and lose one supply.)

The sun crested over the hills and warmed Mira’s face. For a moment, she pretended to was back at the inn, where it was safe and she hadn’t lost all of her food to a river. Then she hear the tell-tale sounds of an owl tearing apart a rabbit.

“Gabriel!” Mira bolted upright in time to see her friend swallow the last of the food she was saving for the rest of their journey. “What are you doing? We were supposed to make that last!”

He clicked his beak at her before flying over to a tree and looking pointedly at the ground. She wandered over to where he was looking. There, very faintly visible in the morning sun, was a set of tracks.

“Gabriel you beautiful bird! You can have all the rabbit you want!” She kissed him on the head before running back to the camp. “We have to move quickly, before the sun gets too high and we lose the trail.”

She gathered her things, kicked dirt over the ashes of the fire and started nearly sprinting in the direction of the footprints.

(Secure an advantage – weak hit. +1 momentum, the advantage is fleeting.)

Mira followed the tracks for hours without resting. Gabriel eventually gave up on flying and decided it was easier to just sleep on her shoulder than try to keep pace with her. Her body started to show signs of exhaustion from to the frantic pace. Her mouth went dry, she didn’t lift her feet enough and started tripping, her heart was beating in her ears. Eventually, she pushed herself too far.

The hills had started getting rockier and harder to navigate. She came to a small, natural wall of stone that she needed to get over, maybe 7 feet tall. She started to climb, but fell when she was almost to the top. Wheezing, Mira lay there for a moment as Gabriel looked down at her making a strange sound. Was he laughing at her?

“Shut up! I need to rest a moment. Just…give me a sec.”

She sat up and felt for any broken bones. All she found were bruises, including her pride. At least she’d made good progress, until now. She can’t be too far. This seemed like exactly the type of place to have a ravine.

(Undertake a journey – strong hit)

It took ten minutes for Mira’s breath to even out. She finally hauled herself up the small ridge and continued on around the hill. As she reached the other side, she heard a strange sort of growling coming from all around her. The source was hard to locate at first, but she eventually was able to trace to the ravine she was looking for. The did indeed have a guard dog. It’s barking was reverberating off the stone walls. She saw two men sitting around the campfire. They looked like they just finishing a meal. One of them stood up and threw something to the dog. He headed over a makeshift shelter and started to put some items in packs.

There! A flash of iron. The man walked back out to fire, giving Mira a clearer view of the packs. That was definitely the shield.

(Reach your destination – weak hit, unforeseen hazard.)

Mira started to creep towards the camp. She watched as the men started to bicker. That was perfect. While they’re distracted, she can sneak in, grab the shield, and get out before they even knew she was there.

“Gabriel,” she whispered, “stay here. I’m going to sneak in and get the shield.”

“Why sneak? I’ll walk you right in there.” Mira whirled around. A third man stood behind her with a spear pointed at her back. How had he snuck up on her?

She slowly raised her arms up in front of her. “I just want the shield. You don’t understand how important it is to the town.”

The man gestured toward the camp with his spear. “Why don’t we sort this out over there?”

Mira nodded and started walking towards the camp.

“Hey guys, I found something while I was on patrol.” The other two stopped fighting and looked up as they walked. “She said that shield is important and we should give it back. What d’you think?”

Mira spoke up, trying project as much confidence and appeal in her voice as possible. “Please? That shield protects the town. It will be destroyed if I don’t take it back.”

(Compel – weak hit. They’ll do what you want in exchange for something.)

“We might be persuaded,” one of them said, “if you’re willing to trade for it.”

“I have nothing to give you, though.”

“What about that axe?” The scout suggest as he flipped her cloak back to get a better look. “It looks like it would be worth something. Looks like an heirloom. Maybe from the old country?”

No, that was her axe. “I can’t, I need it to defend myself on the way home.”

The third man piped up, “What about the bird? Seems like you have him well trained. We could definitely use him for hunting since you never seem to, Lio.” He shot a smug grin at his friend by the fire.

Lio picked up a small bone from the ground and threw it at him, “Shut it, Okoth! I’m the one who found these rats, ain’t I? But you’re right, the bird would be useful. Whatcha say, lass? Is the shield worth your bird?”

Mira sized up the men. They didn’t seem particularly strong. Three on one weren’t great odds though.  The dog was chained up, so she would just need to stay away from it. Fighting would be dangerous, but she was strong and knew how to use her axe well.

“No, Gabriel and my axe stay with me. And I’m taking the shield.”

(Secure an advantage with aggressive action – opportunity. Refuse strength? Take control.)

Mira drew her axe faster than any of them expected, making Gabriel fly off towards the nearest tree. The scout, who was still leaning down to investigate too the side of the axehead in his face. He staggered back and Mira grabbed for his spear. His grip tightened as he realized what she was doing. For a moment, they were locked in a brutal tug of war, but she was stronger. She ripped the spear from his grasp and turned it on him instead.

(mechanically, downgrade his harm. Enter the fray – weak hit. Take initiative. Strike – weak hit, do harm and lose initiative.)

Mira threw the spear at the scout, hitting him square in the chest. He crumpled to the ground before he even had a chance to scream. Stunned at both her aim and at how easy it was to kill someone, Mira didn’t notice Lio running at her with his axe raised until the last moment. She whirled around, raising her axe to block his blow.

(Clash – strong hit, do harm and take initiative)

The axes locked together. Lio stood a foot taller than her and was using his height to force  her to the ground. Mira was strong, she kept her footing for now. But she could see Okoth circling around to come at her from the side. She needed to end this quickly. She used all the strength she could muster to keep her axe up with one arm and pulled her knife. A look of shock passed over Lio’s face as he saw it fly towards his throat. The spray of blood was far larger than Mira expected, leaving her coated in it as she turned towards the final bandit. The dog was barking frantically while Okoth stared at her in horror.

“You killed my friends! You’re gonna pay for that!” He roared, but Mira was already sprinting towards him.

(Strike – weak hit)

Mira screamed as she raised her axe. All of her strength was behind the blow, but Okoth brought his spear up to block it. The two struggle for a moment before Okoth flung her axe to the side. She slashed at him with her knife and managed to connect with his torso. More blood sprayed on her as he staggered back, holding his hand to his chest. They stared at each other for a moment before Okoth raised his spear. Mira turned and sprinted towards her axe.

(Face Danger +edge – weak hit. Endure Harm – weak hit.)

Mira feels the spear dig into her thigh right as she gets to her axe. There’s no time to think or even react to the pain. She needs to end this now.

(Secure an advantage – complication, dog is in play. Pay the price – a friend or companion is put in harm’s way. )

Mira hurls her axe towards Okoth, but too slow. He rolls to the side and sizes up the situation. He’s next to the dog, Mira may not have her axe but she still has her knife, and Gabriel is watching everything from a tree. Okoth pulls the chain off the large wolfhound before taking aim and launching his spear at Gabriel. The dog sprints at Mira, teeth bared, but all she can see is the spear flying towards her companion.

“Gabriel, fly!” she screams.

(Companion endure harm – miss)

Gabriel spreads his wings to take off, but the spear sends him sprawling.

“Bastard! You I’m gonna rip you’re fucking heart out for that!”

(clash – weak hit. Pay the price – a companion is put in harm’s way (or you, if alone). You’ve got to be kidding me. I choose for it to be me. Foe has initiative)

Mira tries to kick the dog out of the way, but it latches onto her leg instead and starts shaking vigorously. She tries to pull away.

(Endure Harm – weak hit. Press on)

She manages to wrench her leg from the hound, but struggles to walk. Okoth walks over to the body of the scout and pulls the spear from his chest, aiming for Mira. He throws the spear right as she pulls the shield from her back.

(Face Danger, forceful defense +iron – strong hit!! Finally!!!)

She holds the shield up in front of her and manages to brace herself in time to catch the spear. Okoth threw with such force that the spear sticks in the crude shield. But that means Mira has a weapon now. It’s time to finish this.

(End the fight – strong hit)

Mira grabs the shaft of the spear and swings it at the dog, sending it sprawling. The shield is knocked from the tip. Perfect. Before she even realizes what she’s doing, Mira adjusts her grip and sends the spear flying. It sails through the air and connects with that stupid, smug face that murdered Gabriel. His jaw goes slack as his body is thrown backwards. Through her haze of pain and anger, Mira is barely aware of the dog running of into the countryside. Instead she staggers towards where she last saw her owl.

“Gabriel! Where are you?!” she screams.

A soft hoot answers her, barely audible above the wind rushing through the ravine. Pain makes her limp as she moves to her friend. She finds him with the spear sticking through his right wing, but otherwise unhurt. She removes the spear and takes him over to the camp, hoping to find some sort of healing supplies. She digs through the packs, but finds no herbs or bandages. Instead, the cuts her hand on a knife hidden in one of the packs.

“Those assholes are fighting me even when they’re dead. Fine, but they’re damn well gonna help me heal my owl, too,” she mutters. Grabbing her knife, she stalks over to Okoth’s body and starts cutting strips of fabric from the clean, non-bloody parts of his shirt. She then limps back to Gabriel and starts setting his wing.

(Heal – strong hit)

“HOOT!”

“I’m sorry, but it has to hurt before it can feel better,” Mira says, “I think you’ll be able to fly again, but you’re going to have ride on my shoulder all the way back to town. Sadia probably has something that can prevent infection, but try to keep it clean for now.”’

“hoo.” Gabriel stared at his now bandaged wing for a moment before nudging her injured leg with his beak.

“I know, I’ll get to it in a moment.” Mira looked pointedly at the other bodies. “I just need to get more bandages.”

(Heal – weak hit. -1 momentum)

Mira manage to force herself to stand and cut more bandages from the bandit’s clothes. Now that the adrenaline was starting to wear off, she could feel herself start to wobble as she sat back down. The macabre situation also started to hit here. She was dressing her wounds with the clothing of dead men.

“Ferrous, I need to get home. We need proper bandages and I would die for some willow bark tea.” Gabriel made a soft hum in response, but his eyes were already closed as he leaned into Mira’s side. “You’re right, we’re not going anywhere tonight. I suppose we should take advantage of this camp and leave in the morning.”

(make camp, +1 for using bandit’s camp – strong hit. Recuperate and prepare)

Mira slept like the dead that night, which she found a little disquieting given that she was surrounded by actual dead. But she felt better when she awoke. And so did Gabriel, judging by his bright eyes and the insistent hooting that woke her.

“Five more minutes, bud. Please?”

“Hoo, hoo, hoo”

“Fine, we’ll head out. Just let me grab my stuff. We may as well take their stuff too. It’s not like they need it.” Mira groaned as she stood. Her leg was stiff, and throbbed slightly, but it could take her weight and only slowed her down slightly.

(Resupply – miss. Pay the price – your action has an unintended effect.)

She condensed what she could into one bag, but they didn’t have anything useful. Okoth apparently hadn’t been kidding when he said they needed Gabriel to hunt. They had no rations, no medicine, no money. The only thing of value in the camp was the shield and their weapons. Mira kicked out at a lump of dirt in frustration, only to be greeted with the sight of ants swarming towards. She shrieked and stumbled back as fast as her bloody leg would carry her. It was definitely time to go. She gathered the Iron Shield and her supplies quickly. Then she stuck the extra battle axe in her belt. The two spears would make good walking sticks, at least. Finally, she scooped up Gabriel and plopped him on her shoulder. Time to head back to Grimtree.

(Undertake a journey – weak hit.)

Fortunately, the journey back was faster. Mira didn’t have to spend a day trying to find a trail, so even at her slower pace, she was able to make it back in a day. Unfortunately, she lost the spears as she crossed the river. That river seemed to be actively stealing from her at this point.

When she finally hobbled into town, she was greeted by cheers as folks saw the shield slung on her back, followed by some whispers as they saw the blood splatter on her clothes. She’d taken a moment to wash her face and hands at the river, but didn’t want to risk taking off her armor while alone and wounded. She slowly made her way to the Main Hall just as Emelyn walked out onto the porch.

“Welcome back, Mira of the Deep Wilds!” Emelyn’s voice rang over the square, filled with a joy that Mira had never heard directed at her. “Come, fulfill your vow and then we shall tend to your wounds.”

(Fulfill your vow – weak hit. I had 10 points in progress and somehow manage to roll a 10 on a d10. What the fuck?! Forge a bond with the village of Grimtree – Strong hit. Had to reroll a challenge die though.)

Mira slowly walked up the stairs, making sure not to use her bad leg.

“Forgive me for not kneeling, my lady, but I fear my leg will not allow it,” Mira pulled the shield from her back, “I present to you the Iron Shield. May it keep the village safe and the townsfolk free from harm.”

Emelyn’s smile faltered for a moment. “Thank you, Mira,” She reached out and took the shield from her hands, “As Head Woman, I hold your vow fulfilled. You have proven yourself a true member of our community and shall always have a home here. Now, help me put this back in its rightful place.”

The crowd started to scatter as Emelyn headed back inside the hall. Mira followed behind, concerned about that look she had seen flash across Emelyn’s face.

“Did something happen while I was gone?” Mira grew concerned, as Emelyn said nothing. She watched as the normally cheerful woman slowly walked to the back of the hall and returned the shield to it’s hook on the wall. Mira felt a small thrum go through her, though she was not sure if that was the magic of the shield or fear at what might have happened.

Emelyn turned to her at last and gestured towards one of the chairs by the shield. “Have a seat.”

Mira walked towards the chair, but her fear grew with each step. “Something did happen. I wasn’t fast enough, was I?”

“This is not on you. There was no way you could have returned the shield in time. A farmer was found dead in his field only hours after you left,” Emelyn sighed and leaned forward, “We suspect gaunts from Wilds. He was trampled almost beyond recognition. What concerns me is that his son was out working with him, but no one can find him.”

“His son? How old?”

“13. He’d only just started to learn how to wield an axe. You have more experience in the Wilds than anyone in town. I’m sorry to put this on you, especially considering your injuries, but would you look for him?”

[silasnce]

Zombie Apocalypse AU! Shance

< Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 >

Shiro had to work to keep up with Hunk as they hurried to the upper floors of the Garrison to meet up with Team Kickass. Every now and then, he had to lunge forward to stop the other from smacking straight into the occasional lumbering zombie in his haste. Hunk apologized to and thanked him every time. Amazingly, they managed to get to the room without getting bitten. Inside, Pidge was perched on the arm of a worn, dusty couch, studying a sheet of paper that was ripped at the top with furrowed brows. Keith raised a hand in greeting. Hunk stepped closer, “Lance was here?”

Keith nodded, “Left a note.”

“How do you know he was the one who left the note?” Shiro shut the door behind himself.

Keith picked up an arrow off the cracked coffee table in front of the couch and held it out to Hunk, “This is one of his, isn’t it?”

Hunk took it with careful fingers, studying the quiver. He breathed out, “Yeah… Crafted by me and Pidge. Hard to break. Reusable. Reliable. Plus-”

He showed the arrow tip to Shiro, “his initials.”

The letters “LM” were etched into the flat sides of the arrowhead and filled in with a cerulean pigment. Shiro took the arrow to examine it further, asking quietly, “He uses a bow?”

“Yeah. He’s pretty good at using it, too,” Keith provided.

“Interesting…”

Hunk made his way over to Pidge, “What does the note say?”

Pidge threw it on the coffee table, looking frustrated, “I have no fucking clue.”

Hunk picked up the sheet of paper to glance over it. His eyes seemed to light up immediately, “I might…”

“How?” pouted Pidge, kicking her feet idly, “It’s a bunch of random numbers!”

“Exactly,” Hunk dropped his pack to the ground and started rummaging through it, “Where did I put it…?”

The three of them watched curiously as Hunk searched for a minute until he popped back up with a book and pencil  in hand.

“A Midsummer Night’s Dream? Really?” Pidge’s face twisted in confusion.

“Yep,” he dropped himself down on the couch and started flipping through it, eyes darting across the note every now and then. He began scribbling words under certain sections of numbers as he flipped through the pages. His brows furrowed in concentration as he worked. It took him several minutes, but when he was done, he passed the note to a dumbfounded Pidge. She huffed as her eyes read over it, understanding dawning in her eyes, “Of course, you two had a book cipher.”

“It was his idea,” Hunk shrugged, tucking the pencil inside the book before shutting it.

“What’s a book cipher?” Shiro asked curiously.

“A cipher is a secret code. The one they’re using requires a book. The numbers are page, line and word numbers. When you look in the book using those numbers, you get a word,” Pidge mumbled before passing him the note.

Shiro’s eyes scanned over it. It read:

“[7,18,2] [167,374,4] [9,47,3] [7,5,2] [49,224,2] [11,60,8]

      I            NEED      YOU      TO      TRUST       ME

[15,129,6] [15,124,2] [13,103,3] [61,112,8]

FOLLOW        MY       EVERY      WORD

[57,43,1] [35,11,7] [99,242,2] [99,242,4] [99,249,5]

   WE’LL     SEE         EACH     OTHER     SOON

[11,59,8] [19,177,5] [19,173,6] [39,64,5]

  LOOK      UNDER    THE           BED”

“This seems awfully inconvenient…” he muttered, passing the paper to Keith.

“Yeah,” Keith murmured, his look fond as he read the note, “but that sounds like him. I just hope he has a good reason for staying away for this long, or I’ll have to punch him.”

Pidge strolled over to the bed and dropped to her knees, reaching under it. She pulled out another sheet and stood, bringing it to Hunk, “Here ya go. Your job now is to decipher any and all Lance codes.”

Hunk sighed but cracked open the book again, getting to work.

“Quick, unrelated question,” Pidge stepped away with a scrunched up nose, “Why the hell do you two reek?”

“I was kind of wondering the same,” Keith added. Shiro and Hunk locked eyes before snorting out a laugh and shaking their heads.

“What?” the two asked, only to receive no answer from Team Knock Knock.

The group trekked through the desert, the sun beating down on them harshly from above. It had been three days. Three days of them following Lance’s vague instructions. He had left quite the trail. Notes had been hidden under rocks, stuck to cacti, and even inside some of the desert caves on top of a stack of rations. Pidge and Keith were irritable from the heat, and everyone was exhausted overall. Shiro finally took control and had them stop to break despite the others wanting to keep going. He sighed wearily, Keith having been arguing against stopping, “Didn’t you say that I’d be useless if I was exhausted. The same applies to you, Keith.”

Keith huffed, reluctantly dropping to sit in the sand next to Hunk, “Fine.”

Hunk pulled out water bottles from his pack and passed one out to each of them, “We’re running low… We should look for a place to scavenge soon.”

Pidge simply nodded. As Hunk drank his water, he continued deciphering a particularly long note from Lance, his pencil scritching against the paper. His eyes widened as he finished a line, “Uh, nevermind about scavenging. Lance says there’s an old well where he’s at. We’re apparently getting close. Only a couple more miles maybe? It says a couple of miles, but then again, we are limited on words we can use… Either way, seems to be our last stretch of walking.”

“The word ‘mile’ is in A Midsummer Night’s Dream?” Pidge raised a brow in his direction, disbelieving.

“In this copy, page 29. Line 98,” Hunk began to quote, ““…wood, a mile without the town, by moonlight. Ther-””

“Oh, shut up! I cannot believe,” Pidge groaned, flopping back. Hunk smiled in amusement, returning to decoding quietly. After they finished their drinks, the bottles were collected and placed back into Hunk’s bag to be reused later before they were back to heading along the route Lance mapped out for them. After an hour of walking, Hunk stopped everyone, “Uh… Just decoded a warning, guys.”

“What?” they all turned towards him questioningly.

“It says, “Warning. Not good band of people along the way?” Hunk frowned.

The group looked uneasily between themselves. Pidge pulled her sleeve up and checked her watch, “Maybe, the drone will be able to pick them up as we walk?”

“Won’t help if those guys are spread out. We’ve had to fight off stragglers before,” Keith crossed his arms.

“We don’t know exactly when Lance put the note here, so maybe, they’ve moved somewhere else by now. We’ll just have to proceed with caution and hope for the best,” Shiro adjusted his backpack on his shoulders, “Let’s try to get there before nightfall…”

They continued walking, keeping their eyes peeled for potential danger. They didn’t encounter any. By nightfall, they could see the faint outline of some kind of small house in the distance.

“Hunk? Is that it?” Keith asked quietly.

“According to this. Yeah,” Hunk breathed. Grins began lighting up their faces.

“Last one there is a rotten egg!” Pidge crowed, taking off towards the place. The other three looked at each other, startled, before breaking into a sprint after her. Laughter slipped from Pidge as Keith caught up to her, pacing himself to match her speed. Keith couldn’t stop the smile stretching across his lips, a breathless laugh catching in his throat.  He barely managed to notice a figure throwing themself towards them. Keith’s eyes widened. He tripped Pidge and launched himself at the mysterious figure, knocking into them in midair. They thudded to the ground hard, Keith easily pinning them down.

“Keith! What the heck?!” Pidge whined, sitting up. Her eyes grew wide at seeing what was going on. Hunk and Shiro caught up and helped her to her feet. Hunk checked her over for injuries while Shiro headed to  where Keith had the cloaked figured pinned. Keith rolled off the person just as Shiro approached them. Shiro reached down and grabbed them by their front with both hands, lifting the stranger straight up off the ground. He scowled up at them. Their face was covered with cloth and a hood. All that could be seen was their surprised, wide eyes, as blue as the deepest oceans.

The figure’s voice pitched high, “Woah woah woah!”

Shiro glared, “You were on the cameras at the Garrison. Who are you?”

“Geez! Calm down,” the person lifted their hands slowly and pulled down the hood of their cloak, revealing hair just a few shades darker than the brown caramel of their skin. Next, they pulled down the cloth covering the lower half of their face. Shiro’s grip loosened in surprise. The beautiful person thudded to their feet with a grunt. The group stared in shock. Keith was the first to speak up, his voice cracking, “Lance?”

Lance offered him a nervous grin, rubbing the back of his neck, “Hey, man.”

They were all silent in shock before Pidge shouted, “Where did you get that cape?!”

Hunk brushed Shiro to the side and picked Lance up in a bear hug, “Lance!”

A laugh breezed past Lance’s lips as he hugged his best friend back, “Hey, Hunk! Buddy! Pal! God, I missed you!”

Feeling out of place, Shiro stepped away as Keith and Pidge moved forward to get hugs in as well, watching them fuss over each other. His storm-filled eyes drifted to Lance. He was older than he had been in the picture back on his dorm wall. More sharp, handsome angles than the round baby fattened curves that had been depicted. Lance’s skin seemed to glow almost golden in the fading light the sky provided. A ray of dying sunlight caught those eyes, brightening their blue hues, as Lance turned them his way. His crooked smile grew, having caught him staring. A blush creeped up the back of Shiro’s neck. Shiro swallowed dryly, unable to avert his gaze. Lance chuckled, “Let’s go catch up inside, guys.”

He started towards the shack. The others trailed after him, excitedly asking questions. Shiro was the last to follow, keeping his pace purposely slower. He was so screwed.