#three episodes into Six feet under

[frost0wl]

watching a show I've never seen or heard anyone talk about (especially on tumblr/online) feels like im stepping into a wilderness where no man has walked before. I have no idea what to expect

[quack-quack-snacks]

Elephants In Love

Pairing(s): Inexperienced!reader x Inexperienced!Arisu Summary: This is basically a rewrite of Season two episode six, the elephant scene, except with the reader and smut. They’re both virgins and awkward as shit but they like each otherrrrrr Warnings: Fluffy fluff fluff, fingering, sex kinda in water (Don’t do that it’s kinda dangerous), unprotected sex (Def don’t do that, wrap it before you tap it), super soft fluffy sex. Word Count: 3,513

“Oh. My. God.”

You couldn’t believe what you were seeing. 

“Arisu!” You called out to the boy. He was a ways away from you, checking out a puddle on the ground. He dipped his hand in but then flinched back. He faced you with wide eyes, realizing the same thing as you. “It’s a hot spring!” You exclaimed excitedly. “The water’s perfect over here! It’s hot but not burning, you know?”

He smiled at you sincerely, watching as you clenched your fists to resist the urge to jump up and down in joy. Although the smell of sulfur in the air made his nose twitch, he held back any complaints to not ruin your moment. “Really? Then let’s get in!” He prompted, running toward you and taking off the flannel over his undershirt. “When’s the last time we took a bath? We can’t pass this up!”

“You want to bathe together?” You questioned, looking away in embarrassment at the thought. 

“Huh? Oh,” he said quietly, realizing his words. 

“It’s okay,” you reassured him. “How about I go over there,” you pointed to the part of the spring behind a rock. “And you can stay here?”

He nodded in agreement, a light hint of pink dusting his cheeks, covered just enough by the lack of light that you couldn’t see his visible embarrassment. 

Walking over to the rock, you took a glance back at Arisu but quickly looked away when you saw him taking off his shirt. You scolded yourself for having feelings for him, but it was just so easy. He was so easy to fall for, with his beautiful face, high cheekbones, and kissable lips. He was kind too; always sacrificing himself to help you and others. It was rare to see him so happy, so excited; it was beautiful and you cherished each moment he shared his happiness with you. 

You took off your clothes, setting them down on a piece of broken rubble near you for when you got out. Stepping into the water, you went slowly to adjust to the hot temperature until you finally settled down. You let yourself float on the water, soaking in the feeling of a bath after going so long without one and letting your head go under the water for a few moments before returning to the surface and smoothing your hand over your face to get rid of the water that collected there. 

You heard Arisu let out a pleased sigh. “I could die right now and I’d be happy.”

“Don’t go dying on me just yet, we still gotta get home so I can be your friend in the real world,” you demanded, half joking and half serious. 

He was silent for a moment before he replied. “Yeah, I’d like to be your… friend, too.”

You were about to reply when the strangest thing in front of you appeared. You let out a small sound of surprise. Arisu started calling your name, worry in his tone, but you just were unable to form any words. He appeared from behind the rubble and his eyes landed on the same thing that captured your attention. “That’s not possible,” he breathed out softly, stepping more towards you. “They can’t be real, can they?”

In front of you were two large elephants, their feet three feet deep in the water. You were absolutely mesmerized, so much so that you didn’t even realize how close he was to you and how naked your body was under the crystal-clear water. 

“They’re taking a bath too,” he said with a childlike wonder that was so precious. 

“I’m pretty sure there was an animal exhibit relatively close to here. Maybe they escaped there after everyone disappeared,” you theorized.

“If we hadn’t been brought here, we’d have never seen this,” he spoke again. The thought was both heartwarming and heartbreaking. You never wanted to be in the borderlands, you were just thrown in without any explanation. But if you never made it in, you would have never met Arisu. You would have never seen the elephants in front of you; never met the friends you made through the games. 

A sad smile made its way onto your face as you watched one of the elephants stick its trunk into the water. “Yeah,” you whispered.

“You know what’s kind of crazy?” He asked rhetorically. “I’m feeling emotional, and I’m not entirely sure why.”

You let out a shaky breath, feeling the exact same way. “Yeah, I feel it too.”

After a moment, you turned your head to look at Arisu only to find him already looking at you. The two of you stared at each other for a long moment, just basking in each other’s presence and the calm atmosphere. Your eyes began to travel down his face to his chest. Water droplets collected on his skin as he stood tall. The lower part of his body was covered by the water and the thought brought you out of your haze. You turned around quickly, pressing your hands to your cheeks to calm the heat collecting there at the expense of your embarrassment. 

“I’m sorry!” Arisu apologized from behind you. You could practically see the awkward position he was probably in at that moment. “I didn't see anything! Just elephants! I’m only looking at them,” he reassured. “I love elephants.”

At the end of his rant of an apology, you turned back around to face him. “Arisu,” you called. He stopped in his tracks as he was walking back to his designated bathing spot. “It’s okay,” you said shyly. “I- I didn’t mind,” you confessed, cursing yourself for the lack of confidence you had in the words. They were true, you genuinely didn’t mind, but it sounded so hesitant when it came out of your mouth. “You can stay.”

He turned around slowly, looking at you for confirmation which you nodded at. He then lowered himself into the water until it met his broad shoulders. You had a small smile on your face as you watched him. He was just so beautiful you couldn’t believe it. Even if nothing came out of this, you would be happy just to stay by his side as a friend. 

Arisu slowly walked up to you until barely two feet were separating the two of you. Your eyes locked and it was like the world stopped at that moment, just allowing the two of you time to look at each other without any interruptions.

That is until one of the elephants collected some water in its trunk and sprayed it over its head and back. The two of you looked over in awe, a breathy laugh leaving your lips as you unconsciously let your fingers skim against his. You didn’t even realize it until Arisu let out a soft gasp and looked down at your hands. You looked down as well but didn’t raise your gaze to meet his, too nervous to see what his expression would be. Instead, when you realized he didn’t pull away, you softly, with a barely-there touch, pressed your fingertips against his. Your lips formed a soft smile when he took the next step and interlocked your fingers. 

Finally looking up, his eyes, soft and adoring, stared back into yours. His smile mirrored your own: gentle, hesitant, hopeful. It was when his eyes drifted away from yours to look at your lips that you finally saw the signs in front of you. 

He liked you too. 

You’d had the thought of him returning your feelings fluttering through your mind on occasion, but you always pushed it away, thinking he was just being friendly. You should have just listened to Usagi, she always knew he liked you and encouraged you to confess your feelings. She was right, as usual.

You lifted your right hand to place it on his cheek, lightly brushing your thumb along the scar on his cheek. It was one he’d gotten during the whole fiasco during the Ten of Hearts game back at The Beach. You don’t like the memory that accompanies the wounded tissue on his face, but you always thought it was beautiful. 

He leaned his cheek more into your hold, letting out a deep sigh and briefly closing his eyes. When he opened them, he lifted his free hand hesitantly before placing his palm on the side of your neck, pulling you toward him ever so slightly. He gave you every opportunity to pull away but you didn’t want to. You just wanted him to close the distance between the two of you and kiss you. He stopped again when he was less than an inch away from your face, your lips brushing with each breath. Deciding to take it into your own hands despite your nerves, you pushed forward and pressed your lips against his in a soft kiss. It wasn’t a very long kiss but it felt like forever before you slowly disconnected yourselves. He didn’t let you stray far as he rested his forehead against yours with his eyes closed. 

He let out a quiet laugh. “I’ve been wanting to do that for months,” he confessed. 

You grinned, leaning back in to give him a short kiss and giggling when he tried to chase your lips as you pulled away. “Me too,” you admitted in a low voice. 

He gently disconnected your interlocked hands and you started to pull away, thinking the moment was over until he wrapped his - now free - hand around your waist. In a frantic and panicked attempt to stop you from pulling away, he pulled you toward him with a little too much force and your bare chest crashed against his. The hand that held his cheek fell to his shoulder while your other instinctively placed your palm just below his collarbone. His eyes were wide as he gazed into your surprised ones, his body stiff as a log when your breasts pressed against him under the water. The both of you stayed still, trying to figure out what to do in the unfamiliar territory. It wasn’t until you inched the hand on his shoulder to the back of his neck that you felt him relax, your own body relaxing as a result. 

You pulled him back in to connect your lips again, both of you feeling more confident with the situation. He gently started to lead you backwards until you met a large slab of slanted concrete that was halfway in the water. It was tilted just enough to make it so that you were still being caressed by the soft ripples of the water but you weren’t fully submerged as Arisu carefully lowered you onto it with a hand protecting your head. He pulled away from the kiss, looking to make sure each thing he did was wanted. 

It was.

You let a finger trace over his neck, smiling proudly when you felt the high speed of his pulse and the subtle shiver that ran down his spine. He watched you with such awe as your fingers skimmed up to his jaw, then his cheek, then his lips. You traced his bottom lip with your thumb, caressing the dimples caused by the smile he was shining down on you. Pulling him down, the two of you kissed again, though this time it seemed more heated; more passionate. His mouth found its way down your neck, leaving soft pecks against your skin until he reached just past your collarbone. He leaned back to look at you as if just realizing your position. 

With the placement of your body on the rock, the whole of your torso was out of the water and put on display for Arisu’s eyes to roam freely. He blushed when his gaze settled onto your breasts, still dripping from the water of the spring and with your nipples slowly becoming pebbled from the growing excitement in your core, but he wasn’t able to tear his eyes away. 

“Are you just going to look at me all day or are you going to do something?” You asked him. Your tone was teasing but he caught the slight vulnerability laced beneath the words. He noticed the way your fingers twitched as if wanting to reach up and cover yourself from his judgemental - or at least, in your mind - eyes. 

“You never told me you had a body built by the Gods,” he said genuinely, hesitantly tracing a hand down from your neck to your breast, going slowly in case you changed your mind. Your body continuously tensed up and relaxed in excitement as he skimmed his fingers over your right breast. You let out a soft whimper and saw his eyes dilate, lust filling them. He got more confident and wrapped his hand around your breast, squeezing gently. 

“Arisu,” you moaned out softly as you grabbed the hand not fondling your breast, and moved it down your body towards your core. “Please-.”

He watched in awe as you led his hand under the water to where your cunt was slightly distorted from the water but wet for other reasons. 

You moaned out and dropped your head back on the rock as his fingers swiped through your folds, bumping your clit each time he went up. 

“I’ve never done this before.”

Your head snapped back up to look at him as he nervously looked into your eyes. You could see the fear of judgment and insecurity in his gaze; you could also see the confusion when you smiled at him. 

“Me neither,” you whispered, bringing your free hand up to caress his cheek. He leaned down, pressing a kiss to your lips before leaving a trail of kisses down your neck. 

“Do you want to?” He asked, being extra careful about making sure you wanted this.

“Arisu,” you deadpanned, but he quickly cut you off. 

“Ryōhei. Call me Ryōhei, please. If I’m going to be making love to you then I want you to call me Ryōhei,” he pleaded and you had no choice but to concede. 

“Okay, well, Ryōhei,” you started again and he let out a little moan of approval into your neck that made you blush. “We wouldn’t have gotten to this point if I didn’t want it,” you reassured and he raised his head to look at you. “I want you, I have since the day we met.”

He smiled at you before resting his head back into the crook of your neck. “Okay, then. Are you ready?” He asked as he lined his fingers up to the entrance of your core. 

You nodded and he gently latched his teeth onto your neck, making you gasp before he slowly entered his middle finger into your wet, warm cunt. The feeling was similar to what it felt like when you played with yourself but so much better. Ryōhei’s fingers were longer and hit places you could never find. He may have been inexperienced but he was obviously naturally skilled at it. 

He started to slowly pull it out before pushing it back in, rougher than gentle but not too rough. Your moans and whimpers encouraged him to continue and he did. He brought his thumb down to try and find your clit, finding it after a few seconds of effort. He was glad he at least knew a bit about the female body and how to properly please them (he partially had porn to thank for that). The choked moan you let out the moment he pressed his thumb to your bundle of nerves made him grin cockily into your neck. 

“That’s it,” he whispered against your skin and you breathed shakily. When he slowly pushed his ring finger into you alongside his middle finger, your legs, which had been wrapped around his waist for the majority of your activity, squeezed around him as your moans slowly got louder and your breathing picked up. You weren’t sure how he was able to make you reach the edge so quickly but you didn’t really care either. “I’ve got you, just let go,” he reassured you, pressing kisses along your neck and shoulder. It was the needed push for you to reach your high. He kept pumping, riding you through everything and whispering sweet nothings into your ear. 

Once you reached the end of your orgasm, Ryōhei slowly pulled his fingers out of your pussy and brought it over to massage your thigh as you breathed heavily. When you opened your eyes, you saw him looking at you with the most awestruck and lovesick look in his eyes, it built your confidence but also made you overly shy. You forced yourself to not look away from his intense gaze, staring straight back at him with a look that had Ryōhei grow harder than he already was. 

“Do you want to keep going?” He asked you, having brought both hands down to your thighs to massage them and love on them. Your heart clenched at his sweetness and you knew this was the boy you wanted to marry someday. 

“Please,” you answered in response with a nod. You wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him into a loving kiss. He smiled into the kiss and slowly started to readjust you so you were higher on the rock, your - still dripping - core now on full display for him to see. 

When he pulled away, he immediately lowered his gaze over your body and eventually to the pussy he would be inside in a few minutes. “Fuck, you’re so beautiful. How did I get so lucky?” He asked rhetorically before letting his right hand leave your left thigh to grab his erection and drag the head through your fold, circling your clit with it every time he passed over it. “Are you ready? I’ll be gentle, I promise,” he reassured. You looked down at where he was still dragging his penis over your cunt and realized just how big he was. 

And you meant it when you said it was big. 

Despite your nervousness about his size, you nodded and pulled him down so this time you were hiding your face in his neck. “I’m ready.”

As soon as you said that, he slowly began to enter his dick in you, going so slowly as to not hurt you. You whimpered at the stretch, the pain mixing with the slightest bit of pleasure. When his hips pushed flush against the backs of your thighs and ass, he stayed still, reaching a hand down to rub at your clit to help you adjust to the pain. It worked. The pain morphed into a dull ache and the pleasure started to take over. “Please,” you whined and squirmed just the tiniest bit against him. He got the message and slowly pulled out until only the tip remained, only to push it right back in again. He was so deep, you swore he hit your cervix. The pleasurable pain of the feeling made your head fall back and your legs squeeze around Ryōhei’s waist. He kept one of his hands to press against your hip and keep you in place while the other rubbed tight circles on your clit. 

It was such an intense feeling that you couldn’t believe it was actually happening. You were losing your virginity, but most importantly, making love to Arisu Ryōhei, the boy you’d been falling in love with since the day you met him in this dreadful world. You wished the moment would never end, but you knew it had to.

Especially since you could feel your orgasm coming up on you very quickly. 

Almost like the two of you were in sync or he was reading your mind, Ryōhei said, “I won’t be able to last much longer. Fuck, you’re so tight,” he moaned out. 

“Me too,” you whined, bringing him down to your level again so you could messily slam your lips against his. The kiss was little more than the two of you breathing heavily into each other’s mouths until you could feel the warm feeling of Ryōhei’s cum painting the inside of your walls. Him cumming triggered your own orgasm and the two of you moaned into your interlocked lips. 

He continued to thrust the two of you through your highs until he slowed to a stop and gathered you in his arms for a cuddle session. You laughed under your breath and wrapped your arms around his as well to return his affection. 

“I’m in love with you,” he confessed into your ear from where his head was resting against your temple. His lips traced against the shell of your ear as he spoke and it made a pleasurable shiver run down your spine. You smiled at his confession of love and pressed a kiss to his cheek. 

“I am so in love with you, Ryōhei.”

You were quietly grateful for those elephants because they ended up being the whole reason you and Ryōhei found your way to each other, this time as lovers instead of friends.

[minkdelovely]

love and power

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧     ✧     ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

chapter two

“i come loaded with the

safety switch on.”

Alastor x Fem!Reader ; MDNI 18+ ; [y/n] used sparingly ; Alias in Hell is Sylvie

tags/warnings: blood, sensory overload, vomit, implied cannibalism, descriptions of graphic violence, power dynamics, non-consensual touching, valentino sighting, slow burn eventual: smut

word count: 2.5k

author’s note: i just wanted to give a huge shoutout to @hazelfoureyes for being so gracious to let me tag her here as inspo! if you haven’t already, please go check out her work - she’s seriously sooo talented and awoke my need for more interaction between alastor and valentino lol

prelude ; chapter one ; chapter two ; chapter three ; chapter four ; chapter five ; chapter six ; chapter seven ; chapter eight ; chapter nine ; chapter ten: part one ; chapter ten: part two

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧     ✧     ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

Alastor had insisted that you walk back to the hotel, your arm linked under his as he paraded you through the remainder of the city like a proud parent.

You tried to fight feeling grateful for the support since he could have easily teleported you back to the hotel, but you gripped his arm all the same. The adrenaline dump had left you feeling so depleted and all you wanted was to be back in your bed. Snippets of what happened in the alley raced through your mind’s eye, and you shook your head, trying to keep them at bay. Did you really have the capacity to be that enraged? That violent? Apparently you did…

The blood was drying tight on your face, contrasting with the slick, heavy feeling of fabric latching to the skin of your chest. You could feel yourself winding up, overwhelmed and uncomfortable by the mess you were covered in. There wasn’t a part of you that felt clean and you were desperate with the need to remove your dress. Tears blurred the edge of your vision when you fixated on the taste in your mouth, barely managing to pull away from Alastor before you fell to your knees and vomited.

Bile, blood, and… It was the tipping point.

No longer able to hold it back, the sob you released was closer to a scream. What had you done? You couldn’t fight the images flashing in your mind; the sound of screams and flesh tearing, an airway so saturated with blood it bubbled. How it felt when your teeth punctured flesh, no easier than biting into a piece of fruit. Your mouth filling with blood… and swallowing. And that wasn’t all you had swallowed, was it?

It wasn’t until you started frantically tearing at the collar of your dress that Alastor approached from behind you, grabbing your wrists easily in his large hands.

“Now, now, that simply won’t do,” he chided cooly in your ear, radio static gone, his presence large and stable behind you. “I thought a walk might help you to calm down, but at least you managed to save this episode from prying eyes. Be a big girl now and stop crying, we’re nearly home.”

You couldn’t see through the tears as he pulled you up to your feet, his hands releasing you as soon as you were standing. A throb of pain rocked your head and you choked out a final sob, trying to steady your breath as you rubbed your burning, swollen eyes. 

Why was he being so patient with you? He had been in a good mood ever since he found you in the alley, not even bothered by the fact that the clothes you had been sent to pick up were soiled and needed to be returned to the cleaners. And how had he even found you in the first place? Was he following you? 

“Oh, my dear, you look like the stuff of nightmares!” Alastor said in his usual static, not sounding at all sorry for you. Hell, he probably meant it as a compliment. “Remind me to ask what that poor creature did to earn your wrath.”

With that, he hooked your arm again and led you up the hill.

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

“What the fuck happened to you?!” Angel shouted from the bar when you entered the lobby. Husk nearly dropped the glass in his hand, but managed to recover, his face pale.

Thankfully, your audience was just the two of them. You wouldn’t have known what to do if everyone had been there to see you in this state. Dread came over you then, thinking of what it will be like to finally stand in front of a mirror. Your empty stomach churned.

“Not to worry, Angel, the blood isn’t hers. Poor thing ran into a bit of trouble running errands, but that’s all been taken care of, hasn’t it?” Alastor cooed, resting his hand on your shoulder as he peered down at you.

“Well don’t just stand there, let her get cleaned up before anyone else sees! Niffty’s gonna have a fucking fit when she finds the mess on that carpet,” Husk said to Alastor, shaking his head in exasperation. 

Alastor’s fingers dug into you at being rebuked, but you were more focused on the muted plop sounds of blood falling to the carpet from the laundry bag. Had it really just been an hour since you had picked it up? You were so tired it was hard to believe that it was still only morning.

“Yeah, don’t worry, toots. We won’t tell no one about your, uh… day out,” Angel said delicately, raising his hand with a suave smile. “Scout’s honor. Though I gotta say, I think you look fuckin’ badass. Whoever it was got what was coming to ’em.”

You huffed out a small laugh, managing to give him a weak smile before Alastor enveloped you both in shadow.

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

Angel and Husk watched as you and Alastor disappeared, giving themselves a moment until they felt like it was safe enough for them to talk again.

“So… what the actual fuck, am I right?” Angel half-laughed, taking a swig from his glass. “I think she fuckin’ ate somebody.”

Husk hummed, nodding his head slightly in agreement. “Definitely not impossible. I just hope he didn’t put her up to it.”

“You really think he’d do somethin’ like that, Husk? I mean, sure, he’s been bossin’ her around but… forcin’ her to eat someone? Seems extreme.” 

Husk sighed, giving him a defeated look. Angel shook his head, eyebrow peaked in disbelief. Ignoring the phone buzzing in his pocket, he finished his drink.

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

Despite how much you had been looking forward to it, it felt strange to be back in your room. Everything was the same as how you’d left it, but it almost felt like nothing here belonged to you anymore. The room was so still, quiet except for the sounds of Alastor rooting around in your ensuite bathroom. What he could possibly be looking for, you didn’t know, nor did you really care. You were so tempted to just collapse on the bed…

The shower turned on and you sighed, closing your eyes to enjoy the soothing sound it made. It was a peace short-lived, your eyes flying open when you felt fingers at the back of your neck undo the button of your collar, followed quickly by cool air against your spine as Alastor unzipped you. You stiffened and moved away, turning to face him, bringing your arms up to keep the dress from slipping off your shoulders to the floor.

The rebuttal died in your throat when he laughed, stepping towards you in your retreat.

“Testy, aren’t we? I was merely trying to help, and this is the thanks I get?” 

His eyes narrowed when you moved farther away in response. Would he ever stop toying with you? 

“Alastor, please, I’m too tired for this,” you pleaded, glancing at the bathroom behind you as you fought back a fresh wave of tears. You knew he wouldn’t like it if you started crying again. 

“Which is exactly why I’m trying to help! Surely, you aren’t insinuating that my intentions were anything but courteous?” He said it casually enough but you could feel the threat veiled underneath as he continued his way to you. “Seeing how my clothes need laundering again, I figured you’d want me to take the dress as well. It was a gift, after all.”

“I’ll take it myself,” you tried to say evenly, looking away from him. He was hovering over you now, effectively making you feel small. “And I didn’t think you were—”

He tipped your chin to look up at him and licked the pad of his thumb on his free hand. You stood frozen stiff as he used it to wipe your cheek, not daring to upset him more by pulling away. Somewhere in the back of your mind, the truth of how completely in control he was over you sunk in, killing whatever was left of the hope you had of staying under his radar. Silently, you watched as he brought his thumb back to his mouth, but your breath hitched as he sucked off the residue. The look in his eyes made you want to disappear, and you hoped the tear-streaked mess on your face was able to hide the blush now burning your cheeks.

“Sylvie… shouldn’t you be getting in the shower? Or is wasting water another bad habit of yours?” he said, voice low and face smug.

Without thinking, you jerked your face out of his hand and quickly pulled the dress off, shoving it at his chest. Before he could say another word you were in the bathroom, using all the restraint you had left not to slam the door in his face. Leaning against the door, you could hear him laughing as he made his way out of your room. Finally there was silence, and you slid to the floor with your face in your hands, swallowing against the feeling of your heart in your throat. And worse, you weren’t sure if the tightness in your chest was shame… or something else.

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

Niffty was already hard at work removing the blood stains in the lobby, mumbling to herself as Alastor passed through to make his way back to Cannibal Town. Making sure to give Husk a knowing, pompous grin, and receiving a scowl in return, he walked out the hotel. Alastor couldn’t recall the last time he had enjoyed himself so much before noon. Whatever else the day had in store he couldn’t know, though it would be tough to beat.

The taste that lingered in his mouth was bordering on cruel, a gamble he wasn’t sure he had properly hedged the bet of. Regret wasn’t something Alastor felt often, if at all, and he would vehemently deny it even if he did. Was it regret he felt at tasting the blood that dried on your face? No. While the blood itself was subpar — it had come from some vile creature, after all — it had been transformed by your skin chemistry and tears, creating a flavor that was robust and surprising. Had it not been for decades of tempering his self-control, Alastor worried briefly in the back of his mind that he might have done something drastic; hence allowing himself just the one taste. And apparently doomed to savor it until opportunity presented itself. 

He couldn’t help passing by the alley as he made his way through the city, unsurprised to see that your victim was still lying there, stripped of clothes and whatever possible valuables he had possessed. It would be at least a week before he recovered from the attack. A thought passed through Alastor’s mind and his antlers grew in response to the idea, mouth curling up in a fanged, sinister grin. Passersby ran away in horror.

It wasn’t until Alastor walked into the dry cleaners that the armor of his good mood chipped. Of all the fiends in Hell, Valentino was the least of whom he ever expected to run into here. Cannibal Town wasn’t a sanctuary in the true sense, but its culture did manage to deter most of the demons Alastor deemed undesirable. A peace he was not willing to part with. Though clearly someone had tipped Valentino off about how to blend in here, as he was without his gaudy trademark robe, instead donning a shockingly respectable black suit.

Alastor had no grudge with Valentino, he simply just didn’t respect him. Getting sinners to sign themselves over to you in promise of fame was so trite. How Valentino could be proud to call himself an Overlord was a mystery, unless he was truly that shameless. Or more likely, from what Alastor had overheard Angel saying to others in passing, oblivious. Both seemed correct. While Alastor could suffer a fool, anyone who would bend under Vox’s will really wasn’t worthy of his concern or energy. 

Valentino turned at the ringing of the bell over the door, with what could only be described as a shit-eating grin as he took in the sight of The Radio Demon.

“Well fuck me, if it isn’t the big, brave hero! I thought Adam sent you to Super Hell, but I guess you would be too stubborn to die,” Valentino said haughtily, taking a drag off his cigarette. “How’s the wound, flaco?”

Internally Alastor bristled, but he maintained his facade of nonchalance. It wasn’t surprising that the Vees had found out about what happened between him and Adam. Of course it irritated him all the same, considering that the battle between the two of them wasn’t quite public knowledge. For now, all Alastor could do was keep the fact that the Vees knew in his back pocket and work on a plan of action to counteract it, should need arise.

“Wound is a bit strong, Valentino, but as they say: what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger! You’re too kind, inquiring after my health,” Alastor responded jovially, though the smile on his face was cold and menacing. “I must say, I never thought I’d see you here. I didn’t think Cannibal Town would be an ideal place for you to… scout.”

Valentino scoffed through a strained smile. “No shit. There are a lot of kinks out there, but ‘ragtime cannibal freaks’ isn’t one of them.” He paused to take another drag, continuing as he exhaled red smoke, “But this is the only place that can actually get all the stains out of my shit. Looks like I’m not alone in that department. Busy morning?” He gave a pointed look at the bloody laundry bag hanging off Alastor’s arm.

“You could say that,” Alastor teased, finally making his way up to the counter. The employee took the bag with a smile and removed the suit from its paper covering. Your dress was hanging in an armoire back in Alastor’s suite. He never intended to get it laundered. “Send my regards to Velvette. I haven’t had the chance to tell her how much I enjoyed her input at the last meeting you were apparently too busy to attend.”

Before the moth demon could say anything his cell phone rang, and Valentino answered as he gave Alastor the finger in response, opening the door to leave. “What do you mean, Donny hasn’t fucking showed up yet?!”

And then he was gone, yelling at his phone in the middle of Cannibal Town. Bold.

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

When you woke up your room was dark, save for the light of a sconce near your door, the throbbing in your forehead making itself immediately known. The headache wasn’t surprising considering how much you had cried, nor was the pang of hunger you felt. You didn’t feel ready to eat anything yet though, but you definitely needed to get some water in your system.

Slowly, you got yourself out of bed, pausing for a moment to breathe through the stiffness in your body. Even when you had fled from Alastor earlier, your bathroom had never seemed as far away as it did now. It wasn’t until you were practically in front of it that you noticed the red dress hanging from your bathroom door, a note peaking out from the left pocket of the white, ruffled apron attached to its waist. It was a brief message, but impactful all the same. 

I believe red suits you best. - Alastor

✧ �� ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧     ✧     ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

tag list: @fairyv-ice

[mortuarywriting]

Falling into Place

Ao3 Link - [First] - [Next Chapter ->]

All things considered this isn't what you were expecting to wake up to when you went to bed. One minute you're on your phone, trying to pass out, and the next? You're here. You've had some interesting greetings in your life, but dropping about six feet and having twelve guns leveled at your face? That takes the cake

Warnings:

Reader Insert, Plus-Size Reader, The Author Regrets Everything, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Isekai, canon divergence Look we're gonna dig into the implications of omegasverse changing bits and pieces of history as well as addressing whatever the FUCK is happening as CoD's history. Idk man Godzilla is canon and nobody bats an eye at that fact and you think I'm gonna be normal about that? No

You could be having a worse day, you think, as you stare at the interrogation table you're cuffed to. They could've shot you the second you fell the six feet from the sky into a random army base. That's a very real thing that could've happened.

But no, you just had a dozen guns pointed at you in one moment and a slew of questions you didn't have satisfying answers for.

No, you had no idea how you got there. You'd been in bed tooling around on your phone and then you were falling.

They asked who you worked for, and were not impressed by your mundane answer. You didn't work for some pmc or intelligence organization. You asked them to their faces if they thought you could pass a PT test if you tried. Not that they answered or appreciated your point, mind.

It was only after you gave them whatever identifying information you had that things got… spicy.

"I would love to tell you what this designation of yours is if you tell me what you mean. Is it like a classification of civilian versus enlisted? Is it physical? Is it your horoscope? I don't know what I don't know," you explain again for the Nth time. You didn't wanna play twenty questions but here you fuckin were, captive audience and all.

The man asking you questions had lost his charming good cop look. He was getting more and more annoyed on this one, "your designation," a demand, not a question and sure as shit not an answer.

"Again, would love to tell you! I don't know what you mean! Feels like some kinda Star Wars thing," you grumble the last bit to yourself but the man cocks his head.

His eyes narrow, "what are… Star Wars, you said?"

You blink owlishly, "beg pardon?"

"Star War. Clarify."

It's your turn for your brow to furrow, and furrow it does, "Star Wars? As in the multi-billion dollar franchise created by George Lucas and eventually sold to Disney," your tone is questioning, just shy of asking if the guy lived under a rock but his expression didn't let up and the last thing you needed was bad cop, so you continued, "the story of what happened a long time ago in a galaxy far, far away? The political space series of movies versus Star Trek's more scientific and discovery based longstanding TV show? Nine major movies and the Clone Wars before Disney sunk their talons in. Like yeah we got more shows and movies that expanded the universe but they also cut out decades of book contributions in their acquisition and that kinda sucked. But yeah, that Star Wars?"

"Nine movies," his tone is disbelieving, and now it's your turn for your eyebrows to raise, "can you name them?"

You nod, "well yeah. Do you want them in episode order or release?"

His brows furrow, "did they not release in order?"

"In a sense? Three trilogies, 4-5-6 back in the late 70s early 80s, then 1-2-3 in the late 90s early 00s, and 7-8-9 through the teens. So order, yes, just… not a cohesive one."

"Release, then," he leaned back and crossed his arms, a position you'd love to mimic if you weren't cuffed to the table for… an indeterminate period of time now, actually.

"A New Hope, The Empire Strikes Back, and Return of the Jedi-"

"Woah now, empire? What's a jeddy?"

You give him a blank look, trying very hard to mask your disbelief as you look between him and the mirror behind him. You look at your reflection, take a deep breath, and- "sir would it be easier for you to maybe check the internet?"

He seemed to bristle, nose flaring and looking at you expectantly.

You just… kinda sat there. You tapped your fingers together on the desk and kept the eye contact he was intent on. It took a good minute and him getting progressively pissier before you simply ask, "would you like the other movies now?"

You didn't expect an explosion of movement from the man. He downright snarled and slammed his hands on the table as he burst to his feet, the sudden change sending his chair screeching back before falling with a clatter. You leaned as far back as your cuffed hands would allow, eyes wide and a panic rising.

Both of you turned to look at the door when it slammed open with a barked, "Williams!" 

The man who opened it reared back a bit, "Christ, layin' it on a bit thick," he groused, his tone sounding more like someone chastising a teenager for using too much Axe body spray. He smoothed his posture back into something casual as he fanned the air dismissively with a hand, "cap wants you to take a walk."

Your interrogator- Williams, apparently- stares at the man in the door, the two locking eyes before the one in the door straightens from his purposely relaxed posture. You watch the both of them, noting the shoulders tensing as the two just. Staring at each other? Eventually the guy who'd been grilling you looked away and stormed out, the man in the doorway letting him slip out easily enough before turning a charming look back to you.

He took a minute to fan the door a few times to get newer, blissfully cool air in before he entered the room, "sorry 'bout him. He really did a number in here," the new guy tsked before closing the door quietly behind himself.

Your brow furrowed even as you slowly relaxed a bit, had this Williams guy like… farted or something? A nice quirk of ventilation keeping you from smelling something abhorrent? Either way you simply shrug as he walks in and tips the chair back up, sitting and giving another reassuring smile, "how you doing, love?"

You opened and closed your mouth a few times before simply settling on, "I'm a bit… whelmed? This has been," you give as vague a rolling gesture as you can without your cuffs rattling too badly, "a lot? And I have no idea what just set him off either?"

It's the man before you's turn to quirk a brow, "no idea?"

"If I knew the answers to his questions I'd've given 'em by now. I don't, though, and then he just started staring? And hell I just thought it was some kinda macho 'I can stare the truth out of you,'" you pitched your voice lower and pushed your shoulders out for a second to mimic the douchebag behavior before settling, "so I kept eye contact because I'm so out of my depth I have no reason to lie at all and now…" you trail off, gesturing around the room, "all that."

The man nods slowly, "alright love, could you tell me about the last five years?"

Your brows furrow, "oh fuck, 2019 was five years ago wasn't it. God, time is an illusion. Anyway, you want what I was doing leading up to and through the pandemic?"

You think he might've startled for a second but he simply moved to scratch his chin, "mhmm. Just your thoughts on the last five years is all."

So… you ramble. Because he was nice and not prodding or asking weird questions. You talk to him about your job before the pandemic, how people thought covid was just a flu until the death tolls kept climbing, how tons of governments dropped the ball on a local or country-wide level and how that kicked back onto your life, and then the absolute crapshoot of the last election cycle, the shitty 'oh no this is the new normal everything is fine' behavior that has lead to surges and cycles of a fucking plague and so on. He simply nodded, gave some sympathetic hums and winces appropriately at your experiences.

"And did you go back and watch Star Wars through that? Or other things Disney owned?"

And, well, that was a weird way to phrase it but you shrugged, "the mouse is just shy of a monopoly and not one that anybody can take that down so… yeah, I guess? They kept putting shows out and expanding their Star Wars universe so that's been kinda neat to watch but not just them, no. Couple other games and stuff like that to keep me busy, too," you kinda handwave and shut up because panic rambling to MILITARY PERSONNEL is probably not your smartest move in hindsight. Especially when you don't know his name. A+, self.

You tap your fingers against the metal table as he looks at you, "and you said covid has a long term effect of ruining people's senses of smell and taste?"

You nod slowly, "yeah, dude? It's one of the biggest warning signs for most people? Like if everything starts tasting like it was made by a middle class white mom who keeps shoving random letters in her kids names you should swab? That kinda shit?"

What rock has this guy been living under? You were pretty sure the military were supposed to be way more familiar with this shit all things considered, but you've been wrong before.

It was his turn to give you a bit of a wide eyed look before he poorly covers a laugh, "alright, that's fair. I need to go talk with my captain," he hooks a thumb over his shoulder to the window, which didn't surprise you that there had been people back there. He offers a reassuring smile as he stands, humming idly as he pushes the chair back in. He pauses mid-step, "you mentioned that there were cards…?"

You find yourself nodding slowly, "yeah it was important and you couldn't fly or go to certain places if you didn't have one for a while. Should still have a picture of mine buried on my phone," you really didn't wanna get another first-round of covid shots, you REALLY didn't wanna repeat the 24 hours of suck for no reason.

"Cool, thanks," he flashes another charming grin before he slides out of the room.

You lean back in your chair, what an odd guy. Nice though.

-------

"Right," Gaz says as he opens the door to Price and Ghost, "either our mystery guest is off her nut or she's legitimately from somewhere and somewhen else."

Ghost and Price look at each other before turning back to Gaz, this… complicated matters.

Well, it's not like you hadn't given them information to identify yourself. They'd dig up who you were one way or another.

-------

You stare blankly as the nice man from before gives you a sympathetic look, "what do you mean I'm dead?"

Behind him is a guy you're not sure if he's just fuckoff huge or if he's just moderately huge and it's forced perspective.

You don't think it's forced perspective.

You are absolutely trying not to panic spiral.

You are absolutely doing a horrible job at that.

"Well," he opens the file before him and there's a news article, proudly proclaiming "Locals Die in Horrible Freak Accident" like that's not some form of you that was looking like some smear on the pavement, "there's this. Fingerprints match up. Can check for dental if you're really curious."

"Were there even any teeth left after that," you mumble as you take and read the offered article. Seven people were involved, the pictures used are mostly flattering. Hell, you almost don't mind what pic they used for an alternate you but… "that's certainly not the pic I would've wanted. Maybe this me had different tastes?"

You take the time to actually read through the article. It's not helping because for as much as you stare at the page you're not absorbing any information. Some form of detachment, if this was really you? You'd died. A different you but a you nonetheless. You died and you're reading how it happened. There was a lot to unpack in all this and you just needed to put the suitcase away for now. You'd much rather throw it away at this rate.

You were rapidly coming to the understanding that you and Toto were not in Kansas anymore, and there wasn't a convenient yellow brick road to get yourself back home. No easy way to get the hell out of Dodge either. Was it Dodge or the O.K. Corral that was in Kansas? No the O.K. Corral wasn't in Kansas- Dodge was though, that's right. 

This analogy was getting away from you and some part of you figured this was just your brain trying to protect yourself but… wait, wasn't this a metaphor? There wasn't 'like' or 'as' or goddammit not again.

You recognize some names here and there but largely everyone involved were perfect strangers. The article doesn't cover if it would've been slow or quick. You hope for the smear that it was quick. Smears like that don't happen slowly, right? Well, not unless it's like a dramatic slide down a window, but not usually across pavement like that.

Still not sure how you feel about all of it. Bit morbid being confronted with your mortality like that.

Certainly answered a lot of questions about your theoretical passing you never thought about. Like if the obituary for you in what you know to be your own home and world is just as… really kinda just mediocre as this. Have you really done nothing of note for an obituary? Damn.

You kept pouring over the article, each pass bringing new words into focus that help connect the picture a little bit, but… Something repeated in the article made you pause, "two alphas, four betas, and an omega?" 

There was no decent way to ask about that. Any questions invoked from here would border into dangerous territory better kept between yourself and a private browser history. You knew what you were about but there was no fucking way.

"Their designations," the nice man whose name you still hadn't caught explains, "mostly explaining their secondary gender."

You look at him owlishly. You pray to whatever God might be listening that you wake up shortly. Or that the earth below your feet opens up and swallows you. Whichever comes first, the mortification will snipe you otherwise.

"Please tell me this is an elaborate joke at my expense," you are very quiet as you are trying to get really cool with a lot of things really quickly.

"Negative," the big fucker in the back practically growled and you knew that voice would do things to you if you weren't half stepped out of your own body. 

You missed whatever his followup was but your brow furrowed when you checked the date on the article, "I've been dead for months? That…" you let the paper fall from your hands. Everything about this is wild at best and very overwhelming at worst. 

A lot of this qualified as worst.

You look up at the two, missing the odd look they shot at each other as you try to pull yourself back together, "so now what? You've got a not-a-smear of me that fell from the sky onto a secure military base, and where I'm from we didn't have," you paused to gesture between the paper and the two soldiers, "dynamics was it? That was just a fanfiction special."

"Fanfiction."

The way he said it was so carefully neutral you paused, "oh my god without Star Trek to popularize fanfiction and the fan community, how has fandom evolved? Is fanfiction a thing- well, yes, it does fanfics have been a thing since Dante Alighieri wrote the Divine Comedy and even before- well, the question is more if it's still popularized? Are there still the wattpad fics of- I am getting so off track. What exactly is the next step?"

You look from the nice man to the big fucker and back, neither saying anything but looking at you with careful blankness.

You felt like you were being weighed and measured in their eyes.

You hoped to anyone listening that you weren't found wanting at least. Not when you're in the shit situation it looks like you ever so increasingly fell into.

"Considering I'm. Not smear. And very much not from here? Are blanks a thing? Or is that what a beta is I'm," you trail off, brow furrowing, "fuzzy. On the whole thing. The flavor of understanding, dynamics, and population skew tended to be dependant on the author's level of horny."

The did get a bit of a snort from the pretty one before you, the one in the back tilting his head just so as the pretty one spurred you on, "okay please don't take this the wrong way, you have given me nothing to go on but A/B/O and-" a finger was raised in question to that, you quickly explaining, "the fanfic shorthand for the universe without being a mouthful. Anyway- I've seen population numbers being roughly the same across the board, I've seen alphas and omegas at roughly 1% of the population of society on either end, I've seen alphas at about 5% and omegas at 1%- those ones are usually the most horny I swear.

"And it's all over the board, no consistency- sometimes it's betas are infertile, sometimes they're the straightman to the comedy that's an alpha and omega trying to woo each other without being too horny to function. Sometimes it's a sliding scale where being beta just means you're more the more middle-ground regulated hormonally with alphas and omegas being the opposing ends of a spectrum. Can you please say something and give me a fucking break because my panic rambles are probably like. Some kinda prejudiced. I'm still not over the 'I'm supposed to be a smear on the ground we don't even have dental images of to confirm who it is anymore' nugget you dropped on me. I think I'm doing well for this"

You would rather not tell them that as soon as you're out of this box of a room you were gonna be curled up in a ball and unabashedly weeping. That was none of their business.

The pretty one gave you what you're sure was supposed to be a reassuring smile but the quiet stretched just a bit too long. You looked from one to the other before leaning forward, "is this supposed to be soothing in some way? Because it's just a bit of an extended awkward silence and that's uh-"

It was the big one in the back's turn to give an amused snort, the pretty one looking bashful, "right, sorry, we uh-"

You jerk a bit, "wait, was that supposed to be some scent thing," you really didn't wanna say pheromones and potentially dig yourself into a deeper, more awkward hole based on Horny Pseudoscience.

Pretty rubbed the back of his neck, "something like that. You really couldn't smell anything?"

You know the exact Face you're making. It's very much your 'I have told you this and I'm getting tired of having to repeat it' face. You can tell he clocks it but for the record, because to your mortification this has to be recorded, you simply give a succinct, "no, I haven't smelled anything. Not from you, not from him," you jerk your head towards the big fucker, "and not from douchebag from be- Williams! His name was Williams. Nothing. Really had no clue why you were fanning the door when you came in."

You sigh, rubbing the heels of your palms into your eyes, "okay. Assuming I'm not about to be put into past tense a second time. Do we have any idea what popped me out here?"

The sentences are stilted, you know you're getting more rattled the longer you're here but sue you alright it's been the worst six hours of your life here.

They just continue to look at you, pretty keeping a polite almost customer service look as big one just stares unceasingly.

"Right. Okay. Am I going to be reintegrated to society or is this," you gesture around the little room as much as you can, "looking like my home for the foreseeable future."

No change in what you can see of either's expression, and you just sag. Deep breath in, deep breath out, "cool. Alright. Well. I know nothing of how biology is altered here, I'm not sure how that has impacted changes throughout history, and frankly I don't know what your pop culture has done. I'm assuming math and written languages are largely the same but in all fairness I don't know what I don't know."

You just stare quietly at the table for a bit longer before looking back at the two of them, "is there anything else you need because I can feel the freakout creeping up and while I know there's no real privacy, uh…"

The pretty one looked back to the big one, at some point you're sure you'll get some sort of names but for now? Now you watch the big one nod, the pretty one give you a polite smile and some vaguely polite bullshit your brain is swiftly going too far out to hear.

You only hope that whoever is behind the mirror is polite enough to look away as you put your head down on the table and give yourself the opportunity to, just this once, cry. As a treat.

[Next Chapter -> ]

[webslingingslasher]

Hii i was just wondering, is the uni series cancelled?

no! not canceled, on a brief hiatus bc i am reworking the series!

here’s a little blurb bc i haven’t shared anything yet::

—

A rush of air hits your face. In the blink of an eye, there’s a body slammed to the floor next to you, another one is pressing his hand into the guy’s chest. “Jesus, Parker! You didn’t have to-”

Parker. He’s cute. He’s really cute. He’s really cute and strong.

“You and your shitbag brother are a fucking disgrace to the frat, I told you last time was the last time. You guys are out.”

Your eyes blow wide, you can’t believe you just got a front row seat to a survivor episode. The twins just got voted off. But more interestingly, who’s Parker and why are you just now seeing him?

“Hey, woah, Parker, man, we don’t gotta do this. It’s just guy shit, it’s nothing serious.” He tries to sit up, Parker keeps him in place with one push, you gnaw down on your bottom lip. “Guy shit stays inside the house, not when I have a fucking party. You want an audience and that’s the problem.”

You hide your open mouth behind a hand. The twin doesn’t like this and his attitude flips entirely. “Look, Parker, you don’t control shit so the fact you think you can kick us out is laughable.”

Parker sneers down at him. “Health and safety officer. You impose a threat to both. Get your brother and get the fuck out, come back tomorrow to empty out your room.” If it was possible, your panties would’ve just sailed across the room.

Yes Mr. officer… ?

“It’s fucking midnight, where are we supposed to go?”

“Figure it out. I believe in you.” It’s taking everything in you not to bite down on your fist. You spin for your roommate- slash- best friend, she’s nowhere to be found. If you didn’t know who Parker was you’d bet she does, it seems like her boyfriend is in the same frat. Beyond that, she’s going to be so upset she missed the drama.

“You know, you’re a fucking dick.”

“Exactly. So why would you call my bluff?” Parker’s name is called, you follow the sound like he does, Ethan Keznek is holding back the carbon copy of who’s on the floor. “Can we please get a move on?” Floor guy is hauled up by his shirt, Parker pushes him into his brother, who then is shoved by Ethan to the door.

Parker follows to make sure they leave, your eyes trail after him while you drink up his movements. He’s right at six feet and blessed with broad shoulders. From what you could tell, he’s lean and something tells you that the flannel he’s wearing is covering up some nice and defining features. The most important, brown curls that lightly tucked themselves around the brim of his snapback. It’s twisted backwards and if you let your eyes fall just enough… You can see a peek of a silver chain hidden under the cotton.

You can already picture it between your teeth.

The threat was disarmed, you step opposite of Parker, trailing him into the kitchen from the other side and meeting in the middle. You want to wrap your body around his, feel his hands run up your back and down to your thighs. You want to bite into the arms that were holding another back, you want to feel him breathe into you.

“Parker.”

He stops. He looks. He runs his eyes over you once, twice, three times.

“What?” He’s not in a good mood. He’s unimpressed. He doesn’t like what he sees. You don’t know where to go from there, you at least expected a hello or how are you, but not a blunt, go nowhere, question.

You didn’t talk fast enough for him. “C’mon, spit it out, freshman.” You have another lag, when it catches up, your eyebrows furrow. “I’m not-” Parker’s already walking around you, “don’t care.” For the second time tonight you watch after him but this time you agree with the man Parker had body slammed.

Parker is a dick.

[beware-of-pity]

Just before tonight's episode airs, I wanted to get out of the way some of the little thoughts that still wander my head from last Sunday's one. I know this post will hold little to no meaning or significance after the episode airs, because it could probably completely change the trajectory of where the relationship between Rhaenyra and Jacaerys stands seeing as we already got teased a conversation with these two, but there was something that did bother me about how they choose to portray these two th last episode that I feel the need to talk about it.

I really, really, cannot get down to what they want to do with the dynamic with these two. I really do not understand where Jacaerys and Rhaenyra's relationship is heading as of last Sunday's episode. While it seems like they can have moments where they communicate and understand what they're both feeling and going through, most of the time these two are on screen they do nothing but misunderstand and be angry at each other.

Rhaenyra treats Jacaerys just like how Viserys treated her under Otto's influence, as seen in episode two of the first season. She ignores him, doesn't listen to his suggestions except for when she's on board with them, and shuts him down at every turn- and yet she deliberately tells Mysaria that Jacaerys is rebelling against her, a feeling that showrunners like Sara Hess back up as the truth of the matter.

And all I can do while watching all of this unfold is ask myself if I've either lost the plot of what's in front of me or if I'm just not seeing what the showrunners want me to see. All I've been seeing for the past six episodes is an inactive Rhaenyra being angry at her council for.... something I'm still not exactly sure about. I understand, her, feeling diminished and put down and perhaps still not being taken seriously as a woman in a room full of men but every time there's a council scene and Rhaenyra is in it, I can kind of also understand why she's still not being taken seriously. Every time she recoils with uncertainty because she does not know what to do, how to retaliate, or how to get her faction back on her feet, her mind leads her to what she knows best, participate with Syrax. When she's told that her getting on her dragon and becoming an active participant in the war is a bad idea, she scoffs and becomes annoyed because she doesn't know any better. Rhaenyra doesn't know what to do because with the little education she was given by her father battling a civil war with her half-brother was certainly not on the curriculum. And while I wouldn't blame young Rhaenyra for not knowing better, adult Rhaenyra should have certainly foreseen that her ascension to the throne would have been challenged, challenged enough that a dragon war breaking out would have been on the cards that she would have to, one day, play.

This hesitation is what costed her rook's rest. Had she already started cooping up the men-at-arms of the houses whose support she had on her side, she could have had the means to face Cole with an army. But the writers were literally obsessed with turning Rhaenyra into another version of Viserys, that instead of us getting the Rhaenyra that's grieving and wanting to avenge the death of both Luke and Visenya, we got the Rhaenyra who doesn't even mention the death of her only daughter, the one she was desperately dreaming of, not even once and treats the death of her son as something of a matter of fact, something that happened that we have to get over with, something that the show almost wants us to believe Lucerys either deserved or had it coming for him. Something that will not have anyone mention the faults of Aemond's intention and doing, with him not even once being called or denominated as a Kinslayer, while he actually goes down in history as being the prime epitome of said act.

Jacaerys feels virtually and emotionally alone, there is no other way to put this. His half-sister and cousin, as well as his three little brothers, were sent off for their own good and the only person that he feels comfortable enough to open himself up to is Baela, but even he understands that he cannot put and vent all of his feeling and frustration on her. He knows he cannot burden other people with the things he shouldn't even have to go through. The person he has ever felt closest to, both in age and in as a human being is now gone, and he cannot even let himself properly grieve him because of the war he now has to put himself to the bone for. The person he openly seeks out to consolidate and ground himself is his mother, the only other person who can feel his pain to the fullest and because of everything going on Rhaenyra cannot see what Jacaery wants in her in those times he tries to seek her out. And it's both tragic and makes you want to bash your skull on the nearest wall available at the same time.

[the-bus-called-graveyard-8]

can you show your entire madagascar collection?? sorry if you already showed it 😭

Sorry to sit on this ask for so long anon!! But I've finally sat down and photographed everything I've got! Turns out, there was a lot. So without further ado:

Long, picture-heavy post ahead. Image descriptions in the post body. Click for better image quality.

DVDs & DVD extras

Madagascar 1-3 + Penguins of Madagascar

Merry Madagascar, Party with the Penguins, and Madly Madagascar

The Penguins of Madagascar, Operation: DVD Premiere, New to the Zoo, Happy King Julien Day, Operation: Get Ducky, Operation: Blowhole, and Operation: Special Delivery

Operation: Video Fun (cereal box prize! It has two episodes on it, off the top of my head I want to say they were "What Goes Around" and "Snakehead!") and Operation: Search and Rescue (redbox ebay buy, I think it has six or eight season two episodes)

Marty's Rainbow Wig (Mada3 bonus)

2 Poppin' Penguins wind up toys (PoM Blu-ray bonus)

Video Games

Mada1 for GameCube, Mada2, Mada3, PoM and Madagascar Kartz for Wii, TPoM, TPoM: Dr. Blowhole Returns Again and Madagascar Kartz for NintendoDS, and Operation: Penguin for GameBoy Advance

Literature

Mada 1-3 + PoM movie novelizations

Madagascar: It's A Zoo In Here!, Madagascar Little Golden Book, Meet the Penguins!, Fish Happens: Words of Wisdom from the Penguins

Mada2, Mada3, PoM Concept Art books

Two Feet High and Rising, Skipper's Log, Elite Strike Force, King Julien's Guide to Ruling the Zoo, Banana-palooza

Learn to Draw Madagascar, two Penguins of Madagascar sticker and activity books

Mada2, Mada3, and four TPoM coloring books

DreamWorks My Busy Book (also features Shrek and Kung Fu Panda

Comic Books

Operation: Wonder from Down Under parts 1 &2, Operation: Weakest Link, TPoM Comics issues 1&2

DreamWorks Madagascar issues 1-4 + Madagascar 3: Long Live the King

Five Penguins of Madagascar comics + 1 book compilation When in Rome...

Misc. Paper Stuffs

Penguins birthday card

Three issues of Nick Mag featuring Madagascar, a few cut-outs from other issues, and a one-page ad for DirecTV featuring Mada3

Mada3 2013 calendar, Madagascar Magic Pen book, two paper Skipper figurines

three boxes of Valentines (two Mada3, one PoM)

two boxes of Mada themed cereal and two boxes of Mada themed fruit snacks

PoM puffy 3D stickers, Madagascar The Musical button set (featuring Alex, Marty, the Penguins and King Julien)

Toys and Collectibles

Skipper Happy Feet plush, King Julien Tsum Tsum plush, mini Skipper plush w/mini Meet the Penguin book (I also have a King Julien plush that is packed away somewhere I didn't feel like digging out)

TPoM Return to the Habitat board game, TPoM Clementoni Impossible Puzzle, TPoM Kidz Cards (I got shorted buying this; it was supposed to have Go Fish as well but I only got Crazy 8s), TPoM Uno

Five Madagascar figurines of Alex, Marty, King Julien, Gloria and Melman

Ten various Mada McDonald's toys

Cake toppers and rings that the baker at the local grocery store gave to me

My birthday cake from 2016, PoM themed of course (I still have the toppers, the cake is obviously gone lol)

Skipper, Kowalski, Rico and Private Funko Pops

Super Spy Penguins Hallmark Keepsake ornament

Apparel

Disguise Master baby Penguins shirt (Zazzle.com, no longer available), I Like to Move It Move It King Julien shirt (ebay), caroling Penguins shirt (Zazzle.com, I think this one is still available)

two TPoM kids backpacks, King Julien Loungfly bag

Miscellaneous

Penguins kids drink cup, TPoM Activity Coloring Roll

PoM ice cube molds

Skipper shaped flash drive, PoM keychain

TPoM inflatable punching bag

TPoM kite (I think I still have the actual kite, if my mom didn't get rid of it without telling me, but it's unfortunately broken)

TPoM decal sticker I made in Web Design class in high school and never stuck to anything

TPoM Hot Wheels car

PoM movie poster (torn and wrinkled and stained from mounting putty because I never put it in a frame lol)

And I think that's everything! I'd love to someday have enough space to actually put all this stuff out on display. We're moving next year so maybe 👀

Things I'd like to get someday

the last three TPoM DVDs I'm missing

Mada soundtrack CDs

Mada1 on VHS tape (just for funsies)

the comic books I'm missing (several)

Madagascar Sorry! board game

an autograph from Tom McGrath

[ak-vintage]

Quarry - Chapter 20

Pairing: Din Djarin (The Mandalorian) x f!reader

Summary: Din Djarin is on what he expects to be his last bounty hunt for Greef Karga. After all, Nevarro is swiftly moving away from its previous reputation as a Guild member’s paradise, and Din has more important concerns now, like finding a Jedi to train his mysterious foundling. However, after capturing a wanted starship engineer who would rather go anywhere other than “home,” the Mandalorian is forced to reassess his priorities.

Your taste of freedom had been brief but glorious. Now you are a prisoner of the most infamous bounty hunter in the Outer Rim – it’s only a matter of time before he turns you in. There isn’t much you would not do to keep from being sent home, but as you find yourself growing closer to your captor and his strange little companion, you start to wonder whether escape is really what you want.

Set after Chapter 13: The Jedi but before Chapter 14: The Tragedy.

Chapter Tags & Warnings: 18+ MDNI! Reader is Mando's live-in starship engineer, second-person POV, no use of Y/N, minimal descriptors of reader character, angst, canon-typical violence and peril

Series Masterlist | Read on AO3

Note: Following along with the canon timeline, this chapter overlaps heavily with the events of the season 2 episode "Chapter 15: The Believer." You will notice borrowed dialogue and synced plot points.

---

“I did an initial scan of the planet.”

In the dim light of the navigation room, Boba Fett swiped through the holographic display hovering above the console. With his helmet tucked militantly under his arm, the pale blue image cast shadows along this rugged face. You watched as the holoprojector shifted from a three-dimensional rendering of the planet Morak to show the harsh, duracrete exterior of a mining facility constructed right along the edge of a massive waterfall. Pointing at the structure, he rasped, “This is what you’re talking about, right?”

The full crew compliment of the Firespray hovered around the console, each of you feeling a bit more sober, a bit more serious than you had in days as the reality of what you were about to do began to set in.

You were going to invade a remnant Imperial base. With a team of six.

“Yeah, that’s the refinery right there,” Mayfeld confirmed with a nod.

Fennec shifted on her feet, her expression grave as she examined the holo-rendering. “Wonder what they’re refining in there?”

“Looks like rhydonium.” Boba frowned. “Highly volatile and explosive.”

The inmate scoffed and crossed his arms over his chest, as usual unable to remain somber for very long. “Yeah, kinda like this one, huh?” he snickered, nodding in Cara’s direction.

You swore you could hear your eyes roll at his tasteless joke, but otherwise, the comment was met with silence. Both Boba and the marshal hit him with withering stares, while Fennec and Din appeared committed to pretending like they hadn’t heard him. Mayfeld grimaced then shrugged at you, as if to say, “Well, you can’t win them all.”

“They have anti-aircraft cannons protecting it,” Boba said, pointing out the armaments stationed on the roof of the facility.

Fennec nodded. “And a full platoon of security forces.”

Your stomach tightened, and you swallowed thickly against a wave of unease.

Okay, correction, you thought. You were going to invade a remnant Imperial base with a full compliment of troops and a robust defense system. With a team of six.

While tension seemed to be high among everyone else in the room, Din appeared…shockingly calm. Not at ease, exactly, but rather focused, centered, determined. He seemed more himself to you in that moment than he had in weeks, since that disastrous day on Tython, as though finally having a goal in front of him – something to do – had brought him a sense of purpose that he had been lacking. Something about that stillness, that confidence calmed you, eased the way for your breath in your chest. There was no one in the galaxy you trusted more than him. If he felt good about your chances, then so did you.

“So, we go in quiet,” he said simply, steadily. “Let’s go get a closer look.”

---

Boba set the Firespray down a handful of kilometers away from the refinery, nestling the ship in a snug little clearing on a rainforest-covered hillside, and after a short trek to the top of that hill, the group of you set up a stake-out of sorts, using the height and remoteness of your vantage point to observe the mining operations. It wasn’t long before you determined that the refinery was supplied with shipments of rhydonium from the mines to the south, and the shipments were delivered at regular intervals using long, segmented vehicles that from this distance looked more like caterpillars than mining transports. Each segment featured two massive, chain-covered tires, which had worn a well-defined path through the rainforest, digging deep grooves in the rich soil through overuse. The surrounding forest had clearly been decimated to make way for these makeshift roads, and dead trees and shredded vegetation lined the edges. The unnaturalness of the sight set your teeth on edge.

Once it became clear how the rhydonium made its way into the refinery, a plan began to form. You would need to disable one of these mining transports while it was out of sight of anyone tracking its progress, and two people from your group would need to replace the troopers inside. Thankfully, there was a tunnel nearby where the road cut straight through a steep hillside, so that part of the operation should be fairly simple to achieve.

What was not quite so simple, however, was determining exactly who would be replacing the transport’s two-person crew.

At first, it was Mayfeld and Cara, but then Cara was nixed because of her alliance with the New Republic. Her genetic signature was on their register, and apparently these sorts of facilities were equipped with security technology that would sense it and trip the alarm. When Fennec was proposed as an alternative, she confessed that she was wanted by the Imperial Security Bureau and would, therefore, trip the security net, as well.

Boba, of course, was a no-go, as well, as his face and his voice were so well-known that his true identity would immediately be detected, regardless of his genetic signature. And you? Well. No one even mentioned the possibility of you accompanying Mayfeld into the refinery.

You supposed it was just as well – your marksmanship was still spotty at best, and a few weeks of hand-to-hand combat lessons did not a competent fighter make, so if things went south, you truly would be a liability more than a support. Still, you couldn’t help but feel a bit sore over the whole thing, not at your friends but at yourself.

It had never been more apparent that you were cut from a different cloth than these people, that the things that made up your body and your mind were not the same as the things that formed them. You had told Din that for him, you would be a warrior, and you still meant it, but every once in a while, something would happen that would remind you of just how far you had to go to get there, and the realization would ache like a wound inside your ribcage.

As the bickering and debating rose in volume around you, Din’s voice cut through the noise with an authority that would not be ignored.

“I’ll go.”

The group fell silent, and you felt your jaw drop open, your brows rising to meet your hairline. There was no way – Din couldn’t –

Mayfeld seemed to be thinking the same thing as you. “Hey, buddy, I might be good at fast-talking, but I don’t think I can explain away a guy in a Mando suit to Imperial guards,” he scoffed dismissively. “So unless you’re gonna take off that helmet, it’s gonna be me goin’ in alone. Or say good-bye to your little green friend.”

Your gaze jumped to the bounty hunter, studying the breadth of his pauldrons against the lush landscape. He carried himself like someone who had already made up his mind, and the weight of that decision was already pressing on him, weighing him down.

“You’re not going alone,” he refuted. “I’m coming with you. But I won’t be showing my face. The transport crew wear helmets – I can see them.” He tapped the side of his own helmet with his forefinger, pointing to his opaque black visor. “They look like Storm Trooper helmets. No one will be able to see my face through one of those.”

His assertion hung in the air for a moment, and you glanced around at your companions, taking in their expressions. Fennec and Boba appeared as stoic as ever, but while Cara looked concerned, her dark brows drawn inward and her mouth turned down, Mayfeld could only be described as flabbergasted.

“You gotta be kidding me. You wanna take off your precious armor…and put on a Trooper get-up instead?”

“‘Want’ might be too strong a word. But it doesn’t seem like we have much of a choice.”

From there, the conversation became about logistics – how Din and Mayfeld would board the transport, how they would take out the existing crew, what they would do with their bodies, and so on, a conversation which was primarily spearheaded by Cara. While she walked the group through the rest of the plan, Din closed the distance between the two of you, wrapped his hand around your elbow, and led you gently away from the crowd.

After you were some distance away, he ducked his head down to your level and murmured, “I’m going to ask you to stay on the ship with Fett, cyare.”

You offered him a lukewarm smile in return. “I know. It’s okay, I was going to suggest that anyway.” Breaking his gaze, you found yourself staring down at his cuirass, tracing the edges of the gem-like beskar segment that rested directly over his breastbone with your eyes. “I don’t want to be a liability to the mission.”

The hand around your elbow contracted. “I don’t see you that way.”

“I know you don’t, but the last thing I want is for my being there to…be a distraction for you or put you in more danger than necessary. And Fennec and the marshal are more than capable of handling the long-range support on their own.” Fennec was, you knew, a renowned sniper, and with Cara’s almost absurdly large, heavy-repeating blaster rifle, the distance was sure to be no issue for her. Your novice skills with your small hand blaster were laughable in comparison. “I’ll just…read through my notes on Gideon’s light cruiser some more. Maybe by the time you guys get back, I’ll have some more solid ideas about how to make boarding and disarming it easier.”

At that, the bounty hunter dragged his hand from your elbow up to your face, cupping your head in his wide palm, tilting your chin up so you could meet his eyes once more.

“We won’t be long,” he promised. The warm, worn pad of his thumb traced over the apple of your cheek, and you brought both of your hands up to wrap around his wrist. The cool, ridged beskar of his vambrace bit into the calloused skin of your fingers as you anchored him to you, loathe to let him go.

“Din.” His name was a whisper on your breath, both a testament to your overwhelm and a prayer for privacy, a hope that no one would hear the intimacy of this moment and the use of his true name here, out in the open. “Be safe. Please.”

Something like a laugh, weak and gravelly, filtered through his helmet. “I’ll do my best, gotabor’ika.”

You might have said more, might have declared more, but before you could open your mouth again, Mayfeld’s sharp, acerbic voice cut through the softness of the moment like a hot knife.

“Hey. Lovebirds.” You glanced over at him with a frown, finding him standing a few feet away, staring at the two of you with his arms crossed over his thick chest. “C’mon, we gotta get a move on if we want to make it in on one of today’s transports.”

You felt your stomach drop at the reminder, and your fingers dug into Din’s beskar of their own accord, a silent protest at having to let him go knowing what a risk this was, what dangers awaited him inside the refinery.

But Din did not hesitate. Instead, he nodded curtly in Mayfeld’s direction, leaned down, and pressed the forehead of his helmet delicately against yours.

The familiar, loving gesture soothed your nerves, and you allowed your hands to release him finally as he drew back, bringing himself back up to full height once more.

In the distance, Mayfeld made a dramatic noise of disappointment. “What, no headbutt good-bye for me, sweetheart?”

The irreverence startled a laugh out of you, and you shook your head incredulously. “You be careful, too, Migs.”

“Careful? Me?” The inmate winked at you flirtatiously, bright blue eyes twinkling in the sun. “Never.”

---

As the only ones returning to the ship, you and Boba were the first to break away from the group. The short walk back down the hill was a silent affair, the former bounty hunter on high alert as he scanned the vegetation with vigilant eyes, and you were quite content to keep it that way. You found yourself far too tied up in knots over this infiltration plan to be very good company. Thankfully, he had never struck you as much of a conversationalist.

Of course, this wasn’t your first experience with overly stoic, taciturn men. It wasn’t even your first experience with overly stoic, taciturn men in full beskar, so you took comfort in knowing that his silence likely had nothing to do with you and everything to do with his own disposition. On any other day, those glaring similarities to your early days with Din on the Razor Crest might have sparked your curiosity, might have encouraged you to push against the edges of that comfortable silence in an attempt to get to know him better. But today? Today you were festering with entirely too much anxiety to try to get chummy with the older man.

When Boba excused himself to the cockpit, eager to get back behind the helm in case he was needed, you didn’t protest. Instead, you settled into one of the small handful of jump seats in the navigation room, drawing your datapad from your pocket and attempting to make good on your promise to Din – that you would spend this time refining the plan for boarding and subduing Moff Gideon’s light cruiser. However, it wasn’t long before you were back on your feet again, unable to keep still as thoughts of Din and Mayfeld and that looming Imperial base swirled in your mind.

You lost track of time then, the echo of your boots against the durasteel flooring dissolving into the background as your feet carrying you steadily from one end of the room to the other. It was hardly a conscious decision, but somehow the movement was soothing.

“I can hear you wearing a hole in my decking in there, little one.”

You seized immediately mid-stride, your gaze snapping to the open door into the cockpit where Boba lay on his back in the pilot’s chair, staring up at the controls and the viewport facing the sky. He couldn’t see you from where he was, but apparently, that didn’t mean he wasn’t paying attention to you. A flush blazed up the back of your neck as you stammered, “Oh. Ah – sorry, I’ll…cut it out.”

You heard him shift in his seat, as though he was angling himself to look back at you, but before he could say anything in return, a high-pitched alarm sounded from the console before him. You could see the flashing red light from where you stood, its glaring reflection bouncing off of the metal of the open doorframe.

“Blast…” he grumbled, and you could hear the rapid pressing of buttons and flipping of switches.

Your years of expertise had your ears perked up as you almost instinctually started trying to identify the problem, to pick out the pitch and the frequency of the alarm and try to match it with any of the standard alarm codes you were familiar with. “Everything okay in there?”

“Fine. One of the drive engines’ coolant lines is leaking again.”

“Again?” Your brows rose in apprehension as you came to hover outside the cockpit door. “Is this…a regular occurrence?”

A low, frustrated sigh crackled through Boba’s helmet vocoder as he fussed with the still-protesting console. “Recently, yes. She’s been doing this ever since I got her out of dry dock.”

Ah. That would explain it. Kuat drive engines were known for their longevity, but even they had their limits. “How long was she in storage?” you asked, your worries about Din and Mayfeld and the Imperials feeling further away as that old, familiar drive to solve the puzzle, to fix what was broken came to the surface once again.

He was silent for a moment, seemingly needing to add up the time in his head on the spot. “‘Bout five years, give or take.”

Not terrible, you thought. “And how long before that were the lines replaced?”

Boba twisted around in his chair at that, looking at you over his shoulder with something that you interpreted as incredulity. With the frankly odd design of the Firespray, this had him looking down at you while you stared up at him from the navigation room floor, the sight giving you a bit of vertigo as your neck craned upward.

“Not sure,” he admitted after a beat.

The offer was out of your mouth before you could think better of it. “You want me to take a look at them for you?”

His reply was quick and gruff, though not unkind. “I do my own repairs.”

Damn. You shrugged, tamping down the immediate swell of disappointment. “Suit yourself.”

This was a unique ship, entirely one of a kind after all of the custom modifications Boba had made to it over the years. The desire to get your hands on her hardware and untangle the web of original Kuat parts and aftermarket mods had been lingering at the back of your mind since you first stepped foot on the Firespray, and a part of you mourned that you might never get the opportunity to sink your teeth into that puzzle. Even so, a lot of pilots were particular about their ships. You couldn’t find it in yourself to fault him for not wanting someone that he hardly knew mucking around in his mechanicals.

Still, you couldn’t stop yourself from asking, “So what, every time this happens you’ve just been diverting everything from the busted line to a different one?”

Another series of button presses and switch flips in the cockpit, and the alarm fell silent. Boba released a sigh of relief, sagging back against his chair. “Until I can pick up replacement parts? Yes.”

“This ship has…what? Three F-31 drive engines?”

Glancing back over at you once again, this time the older man appeared impressed rather than dubious. “Yes, that’s right.”

“You know each of them requires a minimum of four functioning coolant lines or else you risk overheating and burning them out. Right?”

The angle of his helmet as he stared down at you told you all you needed to know about what he thought about your question. His voice low and gravelly, he replied simply, “Yes.”

You shrugged again, feigning nonchalance as you leaned against the bulkhead underneath the cockpit door. “‘Kay. Just making sure you know what you’re getting yourself into.”

“Just what do you suggest?” Boba’s patience appeared to be wearing thin, as he had gone from gruff to growling almost in the blink of an eye, but something about it didn’t feel as intimidating with him hanging perpendicular in the cockpit like that.

“Don’t wait until you can replace the entire line. Instead of rerouting everything every time one of them blows, patch it,” you said bluntly. “I know it’s a pain in the ass, but in my experience, it’s worth it. It’ll put less stress on your engines and let you run for longer in between maintenance stops.”

“Hm.” His response came across as more of a grunt than an actual word.

You could feel a hopeful little smile starting to pull at your lips. “What do you think? We’ve got, what? About 30 minutes before they’re ready for us?”

“More or less.”

“I can patch three of them in that time. I’ll do the rest for you at our next stop.”

Boba cocked his helmet at you in a gesture so reminiscent of Din that it almost had your heart stuttering in your chest. “Awfully cocky, aren’t you, little one?”

That flush from earlier returned in full force. This man was trouble. Shaking your head and praying that you looked more composed than you felt, you replied, “I like to think of it as confident.”

A warm, rasping chuckle filtered through his modulator. “Fine. Maintenance access tunnel is – ”

“At the base of the nav console, I know.” A thrill of victory coursing through you, you did not bother saying goodbye or asking any more questions. The moment you had his blessing, you were off like a shot, rounding the navigation console and hauling up the panel of decking just in front of it. You dropped into the dark, dusty crawlspace without a thought, and for the first time since the Razor Crest went up in flames, you felt a sense of rightness settle over your bones.

There was nothing quite like the bowels of a starship to make you feel at home.

---

As you had guessed from what little you knew of the Firespray’s original design, the vast majority of the ship’s mechanicals could be found in the wide, flat oval dish that made up approximately two-thirds of the ship’s body. Also as you had guessed, most of the ship’s original parts, at some point or another,  had been either heavily modified or gutted and replaced entirely, leaving the inside of the dish a disorganized hodgepodge of panels, wires, and tubing.

Well, perhaps “hodgepodge” wasn’t giving Boba enough credit. All of the work you encountered as you shimmied your way through the access tunnel had been neatly and meticulously done by someone who clearly knew this vessel inside and out – cables were deftly tied together and bracketed to the bulkheads, there wasn’t a single tube hanging dangerously across your path, and everything looked relatively clean, like it had been well sealed against the elements - though you admittedly struggled to make heads or tails of where he had installed each of the many aftermarket parts. For example, you were certain that the central life support systems were not designed to be housed right on top of one of the power generators, leaving them vulnerable if the generator were to surge. You supposed, over time, he had simply started making things fit wherever he could, whether it made the most parsimonious design sense or not.

Once you scurried your way through the crawlspace far enough to reach the drive engines, it took you a moment to locate each of their associated coolant lines, but once you did, the repairs proceeded smoothly from there. It was blatantly obvious which ones had worn through, and you found yourself feeling relieved that you had suggested this solution when you did. The largest of the three engines – the oblong one situated above the two round boosters – was down to a mere two functioning coolant lines. You prioritized the repair of that one first, patching where the aged, brittle tubing had split along its seaming.

Time melted away as you worked, the dim light that filtered through the deck plating strangely soothing, and just as you were crawling back toward the access hatch, the sharp snap of Fennec’s voice sounded in the far distance.

“We’re on,” she said over the cockpit’s commlink. You could hear blaster fire in the background, the sound making the little hairs on the back of your neck stand up. “Start your run.”

Boba’s response was quick and decisive. “On our way.” A beat of silence, and then, “Time’s up! Get away from the engines!”

A bolt of adrenaline shot through you, and you doubled your speed back through the crawlspace. A few seconds later, you hauled yourself up and out, sliding the deck panel back in place over the gaping hole in the floor. “It’s done!” you shouted up to the cockpit, no time to get to the comms panel. “Get us in the air!”

Beneath your feet, you felt the rumble and the hum of the drive engines engaging, and all around you, your surroundings began to shift. As Boba took the Firespray from laying flat on its back between the rainforest mountains to standing upright in midair, the navigation room remained stationary, the cockpit rotated to the space directly above you, and the wide transparisteel viewport dropped from the ceiling to the forward wall. Unlike when you had first come aboard, the sight didn’t make you dizzy or nauseous anymore. Instead, it simply filled you with awe, and you watched with wide eyes as the tops of the trees around you began to streak past at incredible speeds as Boba took off for the refinery.

Even in-atmosphere, the Firespray proved to be an almost laughably fast vessel. She cut through the humid air like a hot knife through butter, skimming and arcing around the mountainous terrain with an agility that even much smaller ships would be envious of, and with some deft piloting, it seemed to take less than a minute for the refinery to appear beneath the viewport. What you saw there, however, chilled whatever thrill of pride you might have felt as the speed of your rescue.

Two figures dressed in all black plastoid armor – one wearing a helmet, one very conspicuously not – had just heaved themselves up onto the refinery’s roof from a precarious ladder mounted to the side of the duracrete building. In pursuit, you counted no less than eight different Imperial combatants, all of whom had blaster rifles trained on the figures in black. Streaks of bright red blaster fire shot across the space between them, more than you could count, and you watched as the two retreating figures broke into a frantic run.

Heart in your throat, you darted over to the nav console and slammed your hand down on the internal comms panel. “We can’t land on that roof, Boba, there’s too many people!”

“Not planning on it, little one.”

More blaster fire erupted across the rooftop below, but the Firespray paid it no need. Swinging around to the front of the refinery, Boba guided the ship up and over the building. Glued mere inches from the surface of the viewport, you were transfixed as the pursuing Imperials began to drop in quick succession, picked off one by one by long-range fire that you knew had to be coming from Fennec and Cara up on the ridge. Still, the figures in black ran, and as you drew closer, it confirmed what you had already suspected – it was Din and Mayfeld, as yet unharmed, sprinting across the roof as fast as they could manage. Relief shuddered through you, breath catching in your chest, and on instinct, you reached for the viewport, pressing your palm flat against the cool transparisteel. They were alive, and they were going to make it out.

Your hand had no sooner touched the viewport that it began to rotate upward again. Jumping back from the edge of the navigation room platform, the ship spun around you once more to return to a horizontal position. The exit ramp began to drop open, wind whipping through the yawning door, and you gaped in the direction of the cockpit as you realized what Boba had done.

He had backed the Firespray up to the edge of the rooftop, leaving the ramp open for Mayfeld and your Mandalorian to jump into the ship.

You were at the top of the ramp in an instant, heedless of the flying blaster rounds that pinged off the surface of the hull and skittered across your path. The two of them were approaching the edge now, running at top speed, and for a brief moment, you locked eyes with Din through the visor of the unfamiliar Imperial helmet.

“Jump!” you cried, your voice swallowed by the wind, by the roar of the Firespray’s engines, by the shrieks of blaster fire.

With all the force he could muster, Din flung himself off the edge of the roof and landed with buckling knees on the open ramp. He managed to keep his footing, glancing back over his shoulder to Mayfeld, and then the inmate was right behind him. Launching off of the rooftop with a shout, Migs crossed the gap between the refinery and the ship in a hapless bound, landing hard on his knees with a distressed shout.

“We’ve got them! Get us out of here!”

Boba was quick to comply with your frantic shout, immediately drawing the Firespray away from the conflict. You lurched forward with the sudden change in speed, staggering out onto the ramp and wrapping your hand around Din’s bicep to steady yourself. Together, the two of you drew a breathless Mayfeld to his feet, but even as he regained his balance, the frantic, wide-eyed expression on his face remained.

“You okay?” you asked, gripping his armored shoulder firmly to get his attention. His gaze snapped to yours, and then he was scanning your surroundings, as though looking for something.

“Hand me that cycler rifle,” he said urgently, pointing off to the side of the ramp door where Boba’s thin, long-barreled slugthrower sat propped against the bulkhead. Din nodded once, obeying the request immediately, and passed the weapon into Migs’s hands.

With a steady, centering breath, the inmate raised the weapon to his shoulder, settled his cheek on the stock, and stared down the scope. One quick, even pull of the trigger, and on the surface of the roof, a mining transport vehicle erupted in a ball of fire.

That one explosion triggered another, then another, then another – several successive shipments of rhydonium all detonating at once, and before you knew it, the entire refinery had been engulfed in flames.

You and Din made quick eye contact with each other over Mayfeld’s shoulder, both of you sensing the significance of what he had just done, but then the moment was over, and the bald man was dropping the weapon and leaning it back against the wall where you had found it.

“We all need to sleep at night,” he said simply. In an unexpected gesture of camaraderie, Din clapped him on the back once as he ushered all of you deeper into the ship.

The ramp closed behind you, and all at once, the fact that both of these men had infiltrated an enemy base and come back to you alive washed over you. You were on Din in an instant, throwing both of your arms around his shoulders and dragging him down to your level. You pressed your forehead to the grimy plastoid surface of his unfamiliar helmet, missing the cool smoothness of the beskar, but the warmth of his hands on your hips felt the same as they always had. Cupping the sides of his neck, you ran your thumbs across the high neckline of his stolen Imperial uniform, feeling just the barest scrap of hot, smooth skin on the very tips of your fingers.

“Din,” you murmured, soft and close, and you heard him release a sigh of relief, the tension melting from his shoulders like ice under the summer sun as he wrapped himself around you.

“Cyare.”

From somewhere off to the side, Mayfeld made an exaggerated, disgusted sound. “When are you two gonna go back to bein’ mad at each other, huh? Fuckin’ hell.”

You grinned, something akin to fondness swelling in your chest at the familiarity of his sharp, ribbing tone. Pulling away from the Mandalorian, you swept Migs into his own hug, squeezing his broad frame tight against you. This startled a laugh out of him, and he patted your back in a placating gesture. “Yeah, yeah. Take it easy, sweetheart, I’m not tryin’ to have my ass kicked by your boy over there.”

You released him, giving his breastplate a good-natured shove. You had so many questions – had they been hurt at all, had they been able to obtain the coordinates they had been after, what had led to the shootout you had witnessed on the roof, what was with Mayfeld’s sudden decision to blow up the entire refinery? They all stood poised on the tip of your tongue, desperate to all spill over at once, but before you could even begin to untangle what you might want to ask first, Boba’s rasping voice echoed through the internal comm system.

“We got company,” he barked. “Hang on!”

The Firespray banked suddenly, sharply to the left, as though dodging something, and all three of you went flying as the floor lurched beneath you. You staggered backward, the deck rising up to meet you as you landed hard on your ass, Din grunted as his knees slammed into the floor right beside you, and Mayfeld yelped a curse as he swayed like a drunken man. The disruption lasted for a few moments, but as the ship evened out, the artificial gravity kicked in, giving you a sense of stability. You risked a glance out the front viewport then, a spike of fear shooting down your spine at the realization that you must have been pursued in your retreat.

It was as you had feared – sailing past the body of the Firespray were multiple, intermittent bursts of neon green laser canon fire. None had connected yet, but the fact remained that your escape from the refinery had not been quite as clean as you might have hoped. Someone was intent on not letting you get away.

Thankfully, it appeared that Boba had prepared for this. Beneath your feet, you felt a series of mechanisms engage, and somewhere far away, the groan of metal on metal sounded, like a door opening with great effort. A moment later, the whole ship rocked around you, and plumes of smoke bloomed from where behind the Firespray. Wisps of it floated up toward the viewport where you could see it, and you knew then that whatever had been chasing you, Boba had destroyed it.

---

“Well, looks like it’s back to the scrap heap.”

Mayfeld seemed resigned as you descended the ramp at his side, the Firespray having now landed at the rendezvous point where you were set to pick up Cara and Fennec. Din trailed behind, back in his beskar and looking much more like himself, and you exchanged a glance over your shoulder with him. You hated the idea of having to take Migs back to the penal world you had retrieved him from, and something told you that the Mandalorian might be feeling similarly. You weren’t certain what had transpired during their infiltration of the refinery, but whatever it was, it had seemingly shattered the tension between the two men, leaving them both behaving much less antagonistically toward each other after coming out on the other side.

You wished that the two of you had had an opportunity to be alone so you could ask him about it, but as it was, all you could really do was accompany him as he escorted the inmate back to Cara Dune’s side. As the New Republic marshal who had remanded him from prison, she would be the one to return him to custody.

As though summoned by your thoughts of her, Cara broke the treeline then, Fennec at her heels, both of them armed to the teeth with their long-range blaster rifles. You watched as her gaze landed on the three of you, her sharp features twisted into a smirk. Fennec simply nodded at you in acknowledgement and retreated into the ship.

“Thank you for helping,” Din said, entirely earnest when just a handful of days ago, such a sentiment would have been disingenuous. Mayfeld looked a bit bashful at the sincerity, and he shifted on his feet a bit in discomfort as he nodded.

“Yeah. Uh…good luck getting your kid back.” Turning to face Cara, the inmate grimaced and extended both hands toward her, wrists pressed tightly together in an imitation of binder cuffs. “All right, Officer. Take me back.”

You expected the marshal to produce a set of cuffs from her utility belt at that, but instead, she quietly studied the stubbly man before her, taking the measure of him as though suddenly seeing him through brand-new eyes.

“That was some nice shooting back there,” she quipped after a moment of tense silence.

“Oh, you saw that?” Mayfeld appeared almost embarrassed by the compliment, scratching the back of his neck as he squirmed under Cara’s intense gaze. “Yeah, that, uh, wasn’t part of the plan. Just…getting some stuff off my chest.”

The dark-haired woman nodded slowly, weighing his response, and then she turned to Din. Addressing him directly – and as though you and Mayfeld weren’t there at all – she said, “You know, it’s too bad Mayfeld didn’t make it out alive back there.”

Your jaw dropped, your gaze snapping from Cara to Din to Mayfeld and then back again, mind reeling at Cara’s words. Was she going to –

Din seemed to catch on before you did. It took no time at all for him to reply, “Yeah. Too bad.” Exaggerated. Like he was playacting, and poorly.

Migs seemed just as taken aback as you were. “What are you talkin’ about?” he snapped, his shoulders suddenly tense at the shift in the conversation.

The marshal, however, did not break eye contact with the bounty hunter and proceeded as though she hadn’t heard him. “Looked to me like Prisoner 34667 died in the refinery explosion on Morak.”

You huffed out a startled, breathless laugh as a wave of relief surged through you. Hand shooting out to grip the sleeve of his shirt, you whirled Mayfeld around to face you. “Go,” you whispered. You kept your voice down, as though trying to be discrete, trying not to draw the attention of either Din or Cara even though you knew they were right there, knew they could hear you just fine. “They’re letting you go!”

“Does that – does that mean I can go?” Migs asked aloud, his eyes still on the two figures in armor. “Huh? ‘Cause I will.”

Breaking character for a brief second, the Mandalorian wordlessly jerked his head to the side, indicating the forest path that Cara and Fennec had just emerged from. The inmate chuckled at that, finally glancing back at you with a relieved, disbelieving grin.

“All right. Okay.”

You squeezed his arm tightly, beaming back at him. Maker, this sweet, horrible, infuriating, pain-in-the-ass of a man. You had only had him in your life for a handful of days, and yet you felt as though you had been altered by his friendship. You had given you purpose, made you laugh, made you feel wanted when you had been so low, and you felt like a lighter, freer version of yourself now for having known him. And he had been willing to set aside his differences with Din to help you find Grogu, something neither of you would never be able to repay him for.

Migs Mayfeld was an asshole, but it turned out that he was also a good man.

Throwing caution to the wind, you yanked him toward you for a hurried hug, hoping the embrace conveyed all of the fondness and the well-wishes you sent along with him, and then you gave him a playful shove in the direction of the path. If he was going to go, it had to be now.

Mayfeld seemed to agree. He let you push him away, and then he was retreating down the path, arms out in front of him in a placating gesture that you knew was unnecessary now. Casting his gaze around to all three of you one last time, he sent you one final grin, a mock salute, and a half bow, and then he disappeared into the treeline.

You released a held breath then turned to Cara. Gripping her armored shoulder tightly, you breathed, “Thank you.”

A small smile quirking the corners of her lips, she inclined her head at you in acknowledgement but said nothing. Instead, she directed her next question at Din. “You get the coordinates on Moff Gideon?”

“We did,” he replied.

“What’s our next move?”

You glanced over your shoulder at him, wondering the same thing. The bounty hunter shifted his weight on his feet as he considered his response. After a beat, he said, “I have someone else whose help we can use. Someone who might want Gideon dead even more than I do.”

Cara and you exchanged dubious looks, and you thought that both of you must be wondering just who would want the moff dead more than Din.

The marshal shrugged then, arching an eyebrow in Din’s direction. “Okay then. Color me intrigued.”

You supposed if you were planning to take on a whole Imperial light cruiser on your own, with just your small group, you could use all the help you could get, but there was something in the hesitance of the Mandalorian’s response that had you questioning just what you would be getting yourselves into by inviting this person to join your party. However, your trust in him had never failed you before, so you set aside your misgivings and nodded. Whatever he needed to bring your boy back, you were going to help him get it. No matter what.

[projectionistwrites]

EQUIFINALITY | WINTER

PART ONE, sequel to GESTALT

Joel Miller x afab!reader (7.3k+)

RATING: EXPLICIT (18+, mdni) WARNINGS: angst, grief, mentions of death and injury, age gap (not mentioned), reader is kinda harsh, no smut in this part DISCLAIMER: although this is a continuation of my series titled GESTALT, it could potentially be read as a standalone. however, i strongly suggest reading the first series to provide context for the reunion and background on the relationships between the characters. ALSO, before any joel apologists come after my head, i LOVE mister joel miller but this chapter does kind of call him out on his bullshit. try to contextualize everything with the events of the first series and remember where the reader is coming from before getting mad at me. :) NOTES: this part takes place during episode six of the last of us tv series, titled “kin.” the next installments will occur after the finale episode, when ellie and joel return to jackson.

next part →

43.4799° N, 110.7624° W.

Good luck, cowboy.

Joel’s fingers fiddled with the softening, worn edges of the cockled scrap of paper in his jacket pocket. Ellie was packing up her things further back in the cave, the crackling of the fire between them settling into a pile of smoldering embers and cinders as the sun began to rise. He didn’t need to take the note out again to know what it said—he had the entire thing committed to memory by now. He’d been mulling the numbers and letters over in his head for months, nagging at the back of his brain and gnawing an ulcer of uncertainty into his stomach.

They’d reach the coordinates within the next day. They were close. Just across the bridge over the River of Death, or whatever Ellie had taken to calling it. He wasn’t sure what they’d find—maybe Tommy and a small group, alive and well; or maybe Tommy, cold and alone; or worse, Tommy in an unmarked grave, six feet under the frigid tundra soil.

But cowboy.

The nickname felt like a punch straight to the gut, and shotgun shell straight through his chest. The message had come in three weeks after Tommy had stopped responding to his transmissions—Joel had already been planning on packing up and heading West from Boston to search for him, but he figured he’d stop to check once more with Abe. Maybe Tommy had finally responded, maybe he was alright.

But when he’d marched through the line of people in the cramped hallway and slipped the parcel of cigarettes across the table to the man in question, he was actually surprised to hear that he had, in fact, received a response.

It just wasn’t from Tommy.

“Listen, Joel, this is good news, isn’t it?”

Abe had asked, watching Joel over his thick-rimmed glasses as his eyes swept over the note in this hands.

“How d’you know it wasn’t Tommy?”

Joel breathed lowly, his chest feeling tight. The scrawled letters on the paper in his fingers were all jumbling together in his mind, eyes losing focus.

“Because I do. Came in late the other night. No signoff, no updates, no name. What you have in front of you is all I got.”

Joel’s head was swimming. Was this some sick fucking game? Would Tommy really stoop so low, to manipulate him into a false sense of hope by using that nickname, just so he’d follow in his footsteps?

“Look, Joel.”

Abe sighed, rubbing his eyes tiredly. He leaned forward conspiratorially, taking a drag from his smoke.

“Those coordinates—I did some digging.”

He gestured for Joel to retrieve his map, and he obliged, laying it out flat on the desk in front of him. Abe picked up a dull pencil and prepared to mark.

“It ain’t too far off from where Cody Tower is—where the messages have been comin’ in from your brother.”

He made a small dot on the paper, somewhere in the middle of Wyoming.

“—and those coordinates, over here.”

He swiped another pencil stroke a short distance away, across the river on the map. He looked up at Joel.

“All open country, out there. No telling what you’ll find, and we don’t even know who it’s from—”

“Thanks.”

Joel had muttered, and it was the closest thing to gratitude Abe had ever received from the man as he stormed back out the door, the note clutched tightly in his right hand.

And now he was here. Cody Tower had been a ghost town. All these miles, all these months—he’d lost Tess, and Bill and Frank, and Henry and Sam. There was a lingering doubt in his throat—he’s come all this way. What if he didn’t find what he was looking for? What if—what if this had all been for nothing?

This wasn’t just about Tommy anymore. But then again—it never really had been, had it?

“So... who’s Y/N?”

Joel’s blood ran cold. His grip on the sniper tightened as his neck snapped around. Ellie was staring at him expectantly, fingers wrapped around the straps of her canvas backpack. His lips pressed into a line.

“The hell did you hear that name?”

A shadow crossed over his face, but Ellie knew better than to be intimidated. Still, she could tell she’d struck a nerve. She trekked forward, bumping into him playfully as she passed.

“You still mumble in your sleep. Say it a lot.”

Joel slung his backpack over his shoulder, tucking his leather jacket into the strap as he and Ellie trudged onward through the snow.

“…was she someone special?”

The insinuation in her tone was hard to miss. Joel swallowed. Months ago, he would’ve shut her down completely, probably chided the girl and iced her out, but now, after everything, he just sighed.

“Just someone I used to know.”

She knew better than to press any further. If the tick of his jaw was any indication, she had to tread lightly on the subject. They continued in silence of awhile, snow packing beneath the weight of their heavy boots, before Joel spoke again.

“S’was my neighbor. Lived next door, back home.”

“In Boston?”

Joel blew out something reminiscent of a chuckle, scratching his head.

“No. No, in—in Texas. Before—all this.”

“Hard to believe there was ever a before.”

Ellie muttered, and Joel hummed in agreement.

“Yeah. Was a long time ago. Doesn’t matter anymore.”

The girl's eyes narrowed as she watched him in her periphery.

“Seems like it still matters to me.”

Joel gave her a hard look, but she smiled innocently up at him, widening her gait just a bit to put some distance between them. He let out a long sigh, running a tired hand down his face. It didn’t matter—it shouldn’t matter. But he still tasted your name on his lips; still heard your laughter in the back of his mind, mingling with the innocent giggles of his late daughter; could still see the tears flooding your eyes and spilling down your cheeks as you fell to your knees before him, sobbing for him to stay, Joel, please, I am begging you, don’t do this, I love you, please—

They’d reached the bridge. Towering steel columns lined the path ahead of them, cold and unforgiving. To Ellie, cold and unforgiving seemed awfully familiar.

“The River of Death.”

She announced in a menacing voice, eyes wide for dramatic effect, and Joel shook his head, trying hard to fight the tinge of a smile that was making its way onto his face.

“What do you think is over there?”

Joel shrugged, cautiously taking his first step onto the platform before gesturing for Ellie to follow.

“Guess we’ll have to see if it lives up to the name.”

Joel could feel the familiar tightness in his chest as he clumsily swatted at the tears below his eyes, purposefully avoiding his brother’s sympathetic gaze.

The smell of sawdust once would’ve soothed his frazzled nerves, but the workshop in Jackson reminded him too much of home—a place he could never go back to.

And now Tommy had a home. And a wife. And a kid on the way—Joel had traveled hundreds and hundreds of miles to save his brother from some inevitable doom, but he was perfectly fine without him. No, it was worse—Tommy was better off without him.

I’m failin’ in my sleep.

The whole reason he’d agreed to take Ellie was because he was already planning on heading West himself—and now he was here, and it was just another dead fucking end. Another failure. All the people he’d lost, all the pain he’d suffered—it’d all been for nothing. He wasn’t rescuing his brother from something—he didn’t get to play hero. He should’ve fucking stayed in Boston. Then he’d still have Tess, and Ellie would’ve been better off with Marlene anyhow—and Y/N. Of course you weren’t here, of course Tommy had sent that radio transmission, of course Joel had been kidding himself all along—

“Come with me.”

Tommy’s voice pierced the silence that hung in the air, and Joel flinched at the sound. When his glassy eyes finally turned to his brother, he gestured with a nod of his head to follow him out of the woodworking shed and into the chill of the evening.

Joel grunted as he forced himself into the new boots Tommy had given him—they were snug, and warm, and way nicer than the weathered pair he'd been sporting up until this point. He stared down at them once he’d laced them up, wondering when in God’s name a new pair of boots had become such a fucking luxury.

“Joel.”

Tommy urged, and the man finally stood, following his brother outside and into the town square. As they walked beneath threaded strands of yellow lights, past decorated Christmas trees and families making their ways home, Joel was disgusted to feel a pang of resentment fleet briefly through his mind. Tommy had actually managed to find—create—some semblance of normalcy, of comfort, and Joel was jealous. It wasn’t fair—how could life still go on when so much had been lost?

Tommy spared him a look as he paused in front of a large wooden door, and Joel’s eyes flitted upwards to read the carved sign hanging above the entrance—MEDICAL. The building was right on the edge of the square, a decently sized structure with harshly tinted windows and a tiny handwritten card plastered beside the door—in black letters, with a tiny reversable placard beneath it.

THE DOCTOR IS: IN.

A bell chimed when Tommy shouldered the door open, holding it so Joel could step in beside him. The waiting room was cozy, filled with a mismatched collection of armchairs and recliners, a coffee table in the center with coloring pages and crayons strewn about. In the far left corner was a repurposed dining table that obviously served as a makeshift reception desk, although the chair behind it was vacant. There was only one door in the place, seemingly leading back into the examination room, and from just beyond, Joel could barely make out the sound of a child’s laughter.

Tommy lifted a hand to gesture for Joel to remain where he was before walking towards the door and slowly lifting his fist to knock. Joel felt anticipation well inside of his stomach, a swirling pool of uncertainty beginning to settle in. Tommy’s knuckles rapped against the wood.

“Hey, doc?”

He called softly, and Joel heard a woman’s voice over the sound of giggling.

“Yeah, just a sec, boss-man.”

Joel’s brows furrowed as Tommy came to stand back beside him, watching his expression shift carefully. He cleared his throat just as the door in front of them popped open and a little boy came bursting out.

Joel felt the breath get caught in his throat as two women followed the young child from the room, chitchatting animatedly with each other. One of the women was young, seemingly the child’s mother, but the other—

It was you. He watched as you threw your head back to laugh at something the woman across from you had said, you hand flying out to pat her good-naturedly on the bicep. The woman thanked you quickly before she chased after her child, the bell chiming as the pair exited—but Joel couldn’t hear it as your eyes met his.

You looked—the same. Or at least, more so than he had imagined. Your hair was shorter, and darker, not sun-bleached from long summer days spent out in the Texas heat. Your figure had filled out; even beneath the pair of pale pink scrubs you were wearing he could see that your soft curves had toned into a sturdy layer of muscle. Your eyes were lined with crow’s feet—wrinkles indicating that even after all this time, you’d never stopped smiling, never stopped laughing, and as your gaze met his, it was just...you. The same gleam in your eyes as the last time he’d seen you. The only notable change was the long, thin jagged pink line running down from your forehead and cutting into your right brow—a fully healed scar, indicative of some sort of injury from long ago.

The man was frozen, and suddenly all too conscious of his own lackluster appearance—he wondered how different he seemed to you, if behind his graying hair and deteriorating body you could still see any trace of the man you knew all those years ago. He wondered if he bared his sins through the lines on his face—if you could somehow see every horrible thing he’d done just by sparing him a glance.

But if you could, you didn’t show it. Instead, your lips flickered up at the corners, just barely, but enough that there was the notion of a grin on your still perfect pink lips.

“Joel.”

You acknowledged, although you didn’t make any move further to greet him. He was shocked at your ability to remain so collected—he was flustered, speechless, his mouth opening and closely dumbly like a fish out of water. He didn’t know what to say—didn’t know what to do. He wanted to pull you into his arms, wanted to apologize for everything he’d ever done to harm you, wanted to fall to his knees and thank a God he didn’t even believe in that somehow you’d made it.

But instead, he snapped his jaw shut and cleared his throat, shuffling his weight a bit awkwardly on his feet. Tommy glanced at his brother in his periphery—saw the tension that hovered over him and rendered him practically incapacitated. With a sigh, he decided to throw him a bone, and turned to you.

“Just thought—Just thought you two might like to, uh, catch up.”

Tommy offered sheepishly, shrugging his shoulders to display his discomfort. You leaned against the doorframe.

“Does Maria know about this?”

Joel watched as you quirked a suspicious brow at his brother, a small smirk on your face. Tommy’s eyes widened in panic.

“Well—no, but I just figured—look, please don’t tell her, I know—”

“Relax, boss-man, I’m just teasin’ you. She brought in the girl to see me earlier today.”

Joel was startled to learn that.

“You—You met Ellie?”

Your eyes snapped back over to him, as if surprised he was actually able to speak. You regarded him softly.

“Yeah, I met Ellie. She’s a fuckin’ pistol. Only fourteen?”

You clarified, and Joel nodded. You whistled lowly, smiling mischeiviously.

“Jesus, cowboy—two decades ago, you thought 22 was too young.”

Tommy’s hand flew to his mouth in an attempt to cover up the bark of a laugh that spilt out. It took Joel a few seconds to register your comment, but when he did, his entire body stiffened, eyes widening in blatant offense and, frankly, incredulity.

“The hell is wrong with you? She’s just—”

“Oh, chill out, cowboy, I was just joking.”

You rolled your eyes, crossing your arms over your chest. Joel narrowed his eyes, and just like that, the tension between you was back, but Tommy was not oblivious to it, this time. He cautiously made a move towards the door.

“Well, I’ll just leave you two to—”

“No!”

You exclaimed, sounding borderline insulted.

“You’re just gonna leave? The fuck do you want me to do with him?”

Joel scoffed at the way you were referring to him, your hand gesturing to him as if he were a child you were being forced to babysit. Tommy threw his hands up in defense.

“Easy, doc. I gotta go see the missus—we’re puttin’ him up in 38, right across the street from us. Just—I don’t know, Y/N, just do your doctor thing and then walk him over there. You’re fine.”

“And whose idea was it to put him in 38?”

You glowered threateningly, the scar on your face contorting with the expression, and Tommy swallowed at your clear disdain.

“Actually, that was Maria’s.”

“Fuckin’ classic.”

You murmured angrily, and when Tommy turned to leave once more, you waved a dismissive hand towards him, scoffing in distaste. The door banged shut behind him, and just like that, you and Joel were alone.

His eyes flitted from the door and back to you, finding your eyes already on him. He could see the maturity in them—you seemed older, wiser, your gaze more calculating and scrutinizing. Even with the new scar that you adorned, you were just as beautiful as the day he last saw you. Your shoulders sagged in defeat before you jerked your head to the side.

“Come on, then, cowboy. Time for your appointment.”

Joel silently walked towards you, shuffling past you and into the examination room. He felt the heat of your body as he brushed past you, and fuck, you still smelled like—like you, all these years later. Clean, like freshly folded linens or laundry straight out of the dryer, with just a dash of citrus.

He paused in the threshold, taking in the room. It was fairly spacious, with a steel examination table pushed up against one wall and your desk on the other. The wall straight across from him was lined with shelving that contained more medical equipment than he thought existed—jars of various medications, bandages, gauze, pads and tampons, antiseptic and antibiotic ointments, and other various supplies that he didn’t even know the name of.

“Well, up you get.”

You nudged his back with the knuckles of your right hand, gesturing towards the steel examination table. He shot you a silent glare, but you masked your satisfied smirk as he hoisted himself up onto the surface, leaning back against the wall to face you.

You sat in your threadbare office chair, rolling it away from your desk so you could face him. He watched as you reached into a jar full of tiny white pills on the corner of your desk, grabbing a few and tossing them back into your mouth with ease. His jaw slackened.

“Ain’t that against your bylaws, or somethin’?”

He managed to jab, quirking his brow, and you rolled your eyes at him, chewing the tablets in your mouth.

“They’re sugar pills, dumbass. I give ’em to the kids when they get hurt—placebo effect. You want one?”

You picked up the glass jar and tilted it towards him, but he just shook his head, never taking his eyes off of your face. You rolled your eyes at him, stealing one more from the jar before tightening the lid back on and sliding it back onto the shelf.

You spun your chair back around to face him again, folding your hands in your lap as you watched him. He just stared right back, jaw set stiffly, arms crossed over his chest, mask impenetrable. You pursed your lips, stubborn enough to not want to break the silence that befell you. Joel finally cracked.

“You’re a long ways from California.”

His voice was gruff and husky, but even beneath the rough edge, you could make out a hint of familiar softness. You blinked at him.

“You’re kiddin’, right?”

You started, and the man’s brows furrowed more, indicating his confusion. You laughed incredulously.

“Twenty years, you’ve had to come up with a conversation starter, and that’s what you settle on? Jesus, Joel.”

You huffed, leaning back into your chair and reclining slightly. Joel’s jaw rippled at your mockery.

“Well, hell, forgive me for not meeting your expectations, darlin’.”

He expected you to fire back at him, to humor him with the witty back-and-forth banter that he’d missed so much, but you just sighed, sinking further back into your chair and shaking your head softly to yourself.

“Took you long enough to get here. I was startin’ to think you hadn’t gotten my message.”

Joel felt his heart skip a beat, and his guarded expression briefly exposed a look of realization.

“So it was you.”

You let out a humorless laugh, avoiding his gaze.

“Yeah, Joel, it was me. But I hope to God you kept that to yourself—Maria would kill me if she knew I’d contacted you.”

“Get the sense that she’s not my biggest fan.”

Joel grumbled, leaning his head back against the wall behind him. He was surprised to see your hardened eyes soften a bit, full of something resembling pity.

“She’s just—she’s protective. Tryin’ to keep me and Tommy safe.”

He tried not to read into your words too much, but he felt himself grow defensive.

“Safe. From me.”

You tilted your head back, squeezing your eyes shut and drawing in a sigh in an attempt to maintain your composure.

“Well, you’ve certainly earned yourself quite the reputation, Mister Miller.”

You scoffed, and Joel felt his face fall slightly, his mouth turning into a frown.

“So you’ve heard about me, then?”

You still avoided his eyes, your own arms crossing over your chest.

“I mean, just things from Tommy, but I doubt he told me everything. Still, Maria—Maria doesn’t think you were the best role model for your brother.”

“And what do you think?”

Joel leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees, and you swallowed, opening your mouth to reply just as the door to the clinic abruptly slammed open, the bell nearly flying off the hinge from the sudden rattling. You and Joel immediately burst into action, and you raced out of the exam room to investigate the intrusion.

Joel paused behind you when you slowed, taking in a relieved deep breath when you realized there wasn’t an immediate threat. The young boy from earlier had barged in, tears trailing down his round, rosy cheeks as he stared up at you with a look of almost betrayal. His mom was attempting to catch her breath, standing in the doorway hunched over, and young girl was standing to her right, presumably her daughter, who looked to be barely older than ten.

“I’m so sorry, Y/N,”

The mother began to explain, her hand pressed against her chest to try to regulate her breathing.

“We were heading back to the mess hall for movie night but Jenny made a comment to Ben about his splinter, and—”

“Why don’t you wan’ me to get better?”

Ben interrupted, more tears falling from his wide eyes as he pouted, holding up the index finger of his left hand to showcase the bandage that you had put there earlier.

You startled backwards.

“What are you talkin’ about, Ben? Of course I want you to get better, that’s my job.”

“Then why didn’t you use your powers on me?”

He stamped his foot in frustration, and Joel stood back, watching the scene unfold before him with furrowed brows. Your eyes snapped over to his older sister, Jenny, who was trying to hide her amused smile behind her hand. Finally, you knelt down in front of the young boy, who sniffled and avoided your eyes.

“You’re right, Ben, I totally forgot. I’m so sorry. Can I fix it now?”

You asked carefully, holding your hand out for him. He contemplated for a minute before nodding carefully, offering you his left finger extended in front of him. Joel felt a weight settle onto his chest as you carefully pressed your lips to the pad of his injured finger, making an exaggerated smooching sound as you pulled away. The young boy’s face immediately brightened, and you smiled at him.

“There! Did the magic kiss make it feel all better?”

You leaned down to look into his eyes, and he nodded at you happily before quickly turning back towards the door and running into his mother, clinging to her legs.

The woman smiled at you, both apologetically and gratefully.

“Thank you, Y/N, and again, I’m so sorry—”

You waved a dismissive hand.

“No worries, Beth. Seriously, it was my fault, I should’ve remembered. Thanks for the reminder, Jenny.”

You winked at the older girl teasingly, and she hid her face further behind her hand, biting her lip to hold in her laughter. As the family turned to leave, you shouted a reminder to them.

“Be careful on the benches in the mess hall! They haven’t been sanded well and I don’t want him to get any more splinters!”

The door shut behind them and Joel watched your shoulders immediately sag when they left, your lungs exhaling a long, exhausted sigh. When you turned around to go back into the office, you jolted slightly, as if you’d forgotten that Joel was there. He studied you carefully, analyzing you, and you hastily pushed past him and back into the exam room.

“Sorry about that. You know how toddlers are.”

You settled back into your office chair, but as the door clicked shut behind Joel, he remained standing, leaning back against the wood with his arms crossed. You were looking at some paperwork on your desk before your eyes lifted to glance at him. He remained stoic, silent, and you sighed.

“Ellie’s a cute kid. Reminds me of someone.”

You gauged his reaction, watching his muscles tense and his jaw clench at your admission, his eyes casting down to his feet. He didn’t respond—you decided not to push it.

“How’d you get stuck haulin’ the walking cure across the states?”

That caught his attention. He stood abruptly upright, his eyes widening as he stared at you, a brief look of panic rising in him.

“How—she told you?”

You made a motion for him to calm down.

“Relax, it’s fine, seriously. I saw her bite marks. Pretty fuckin’ wild, though.”

“Why’d she tell you?”

Joel seemed unsatisfied with your answer, taking an intimidating step towards you, his voice low and threatening. He seemed to be forgetting the fact that his fear tactics wouldn’t work on you.

You rolled your eyes.

“I’m easy to talk to. Good at makin’ people feel comfortable. Besides, she said she’d heard my name before. Apparently you talk in your sleep?”

Joel’s arms fell to his sides, his jaw clenching rhythmically and hands balling into fists. His eyes dropped to the floor, but you let out a short, bright laugh.

“Don’t worry, I don’t mind. That’s actually one of the first things Tommy told me when we met back up.”

Joel threw his head back with a frustrated groan, particularly annoyed when he heard you cackling from your seated position in front of him, obviously deriving great pleasure from his discomfort. When you’d finished laughing, however, the mood quickly soured once again, his dark eyes fixing you within them carefully.

“You can’t say a word to anyone about it.”

“What, about you dreamin’ about me?”

“Y/N. You know damn well what I’m talkin’ about.”

He was practically growling at you, his eyes narrowed as he took another menacing step closer. You were getting fed up with his attempts at intimidation.

“I’m not gonna say anything, okay?”

“Swear to me.”

To your surprise, Joel leaned down and grabbed the arms of your office chair, spinning it so you were facing him completely. He leaned down in front of you, eyes level with yours, only a foot away as he challenged you silently with his gaze. Up close, he could see the jagged edges of the healed cut through your forehead, marring your perfect complexion.

“Swear to me, you won’t tell Maria, or anybody.”

You scoffed, surprising Joel by leaning closer towards him instead of away, not breaking eye contact as you fixed him with your own intense stare.

“I promise. Besides, you already know that I’m great at keepin’ secrets.”

He pulled away from you harshly, abruptly, your chair sliding back a few inches at his sudden release of its arms. You smirked to yourself, somewhat satisfied with your ability to still get under his skin, even after all this time.

“Now, go sit back down, and tell me everything. From the beginning.”

Joel opened his mouth the protest, but you pinned him down with a glare.

“Don’t. This is my town, Joel—you’re the outsider here, not me. Which means I get my answers first.”

He pursed his lips, trying to come up with some way to contradict you, but he knew deep down that you were right—you had the upper hand in this situation. Begrudgingly, Joel pushed himself back onto the table across from you, grunting with the effort as he settled back against the wall. You rolled your chair a bit closer to him, leaning back and watching him intently.

“Alright, then. Tell me the story about how the cowboy and the little firefly managed to survive their journey out West, searchin’ for a brother and a cure.”

Joel regarded you carefully, fighting the urge to correct you.

And searching for you.

Instead, he opened his mouth and began to speak.

Joel’s brows furrowed as you rejoined him on the gravel street from the house you had stopped by. Your arms were holding a variety of clothing items, pressed tightly to your chest as you nodded for him to follow you.

“What was that about?”

He asked, maintaining several feet of distance between the two of you as you lead him further away from the town square.

“Stopped by to see Mary-Ann. Her husband is about your size, and I figured you wouldn’t object to a new set ’a clothes.”

You jokingly looked him up and down, scrunching up your nose in disapproval at his current attire. Even with your teasing, Joel felt gratitude sneak up on him as he watched you.

“You didn’t have to do that.”

He spoke lowly, and your quick pace faltered slightly at the tenderness that breached the surface of his words. Your smile wavered.

“Yeah, I know. S’really not a big deal.”

You shrugged it off, refusing to expose any vulnerability to the man. You were bound and determined to keep your head up in the face of his sudden reappearance in your life—the last thing you needed was for Joel to think he still had power over you.

“What’d you trade for it? I’m sure there’s somethin’ I can—”

“Joel, s’fine.”

You snapped, harsher than you had intended. You sighed.

“I’m the town doctor, and I treat everyone and don’t expect anything in return, so when the time comes that I actually need somethin’, people are more often than not willing to help me out.”

He didn’t respond, and you continued your trek through the snow in silence. After a few more tense minutes, you reached house number 38, pausing when you saw light peeking through the curtains in a room upstairs, the window cracked to let cool air into the stale home.

“So, this is you. Ellie’s already upstairs, m’sure.”

You paused in front of the door, turning to face the man head-on. The familiarity of looking up at him like this, his brown eyes regarding you with undivided attention, filled you with a deep sense of melancholy. The proximity was dizzying. You refused to acknowledge the sensation.

You offered him the clothes in your arms—a fleece-lined burgundy flannel, a pair of jeans, boxers, socks, and an undershirt—and he accepted them gratefully.

“Tommy and Maria are right across the way, and... I’m, uh, right next door if you need anything.”

You tried to hide the resentment that soured your lips as you told him where your own home was located, and although he didn’t say it out loud, you saw the flicker of recognition in his eyes that you were, once again, neighbors. How serendipitous.

You hesitated, staring at the ground in between the gap of yours and Joel’s boots, contemplating. Finally, you figured you’d extend an olive branch.

“Listen—after you get cleaned up, if you wanted—I mean, I have to talk to Maria quick, but ’m probably gonna stay up for awhile, so if—you know, if you’re not too tired, I wouldn’t mind—”

“Thanks.”

Joel interrupted your senseless rambling, indicating that he understood your winded invitation for his company. You blew out a breath, a blush creeping up your cheeks as you met his eyes once more before stepping around him and closing the short distance to the house across the street. Joel watched as you walked away.

He was fuming, but his flaming hot anger was quickly tempered by a lingering sadness that threatened to consume him. Ellie had some fucking nerve—bringing up Sarah, trying to manipulate him into taking her the rest of the way. He felt nauseous, his jaw clenched tight as he sat on the edge of the bed in his own bedroom, his eyes flickering up to stare out the window that shrouded him in moonlight.

There was a cool breeze filtering in through the crack in the window, but when he looked out, he saw you. You were staring up at Ellie’s window, your hands buried in the pockets of your winter coat and your face painted with discomfort. It was only then that Joel realized Ellie’s window had been open, as well—how long had you been standing there? Had you heard everything?

Joel found himself rising, walking to stand up against the window. The movement caught your attention, your gaze briefly shifting as you made eye contact with him. The silvery-pink skin of your scar seemed translucent beneath the streetlights. You stared up at him, wordlessly confirming that yes, you’d heard every goddamned word before you turned and stomped over towards your own home, downtrodden and damaged.

He wasn’t consciously in control of his body as he swiped his jacket from the end of the mattress and descended the stairs, exiting the front door just in time to see yours slam shut. He swallowed, letting his exhale cloud out in front of him in the frigid air before he followed your snowy footsteps, pausing on your front porch and staring at the closed door.

You wouldn’t want him to join you anymore, surely—not after you’d been subjected to his aggression towards Ellie. Your silence signaled your disinterest, or so he told himself. Still, he hesitated. His calloused fingers brushed against the doorknob, twisting sharply, and to his surprise, the door swung open easily.

An olive branch.

The hallway before him was dark, but there was a soft yellow light emanating from deeper in your home, and he could hear the clanking of dishware and cutlery as he stepped into the threshold and closed the door behind him.

His heavy footsteps echoed loudly against the creaky wooden floor as he followed the sounds, the hallway opening up to a small kitchen where you were facing away from him, the smell of coffee filling Joel’s lungs as he breathed in deep. Real coffee. Even better than goddamn liquor.

He watched as you poured two mugs of the dark, steaming beverage, setting the pot back on the counter before picking up the mugs and turning to face him. You still didn’t speak, didn’t even look at him as you squeezed past him and set one mug on the end of the round wooden table before sitting down on the opposite side. Joel took the hint, the legs of the chair scraping the hardwood as he pulled it out and cautiously seated himself, his hands instinctually coming to cradle the warmth of the mug in front of him.

“You heard all that?”

He croaked.

You took a small sip, your head turned to stare out the back window and into the darkness of the trees outside. He waited, silently, for you to set the tone of the meeting. He watched your jaw clench as you finally opened your mouth the speak.

“Just—”

Your voice cracked, and you cleared your throat. There was grimace on your face, words wobbly and cautious.

“Just when I think you can’t possibly let me down even more, you somehow find a way.”

He scowled, but felt his beating heart sink, an anchor weighing him down at your confession. He didn’t say anything—just kept watching your face. Your features always betrayed you; you wore your heart on your sleeve. He could read every expression with practiced precision, and now, he studied you diligently.

You finally turned to look at him, eyes glossy and sad. He swallowed.

“You know, I—I stuck my neck out for you. To Maria. Even after all the shit I heard from Tommy, even after everything, I still thought—still thought there might be at least some trace of the man I knew all those years ago.”

“That was your first mistake.”

His gruff voice interjected, posture stiff.

“I ain’t the same person I was. And neither are you.”

“You’re wrong.”

You shook your head with such conviction that Joel faltered.

“I haven’t let the world harden me, Joel. I’ve grown, and I’ve learned, but I’m still the same person I’ve always been."

“You’re lucky to be alive, then. Naive to think that you can still care about people in a world that doesn’t care about you.”

You studied him, cold and calculated, before nodding sharply, a look of disapproval in your eyes. The scar that ran through your brow curled as you scowled.

“You just feel so fuckin’ sorry for yourself, don’t you?”

Joel was utterly taken aback, blinking once, then twice, before his eyes narrowed.

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me. You think—you think you can use your grief, your pain, to justify your actions, like it can excuse the person you’ve become. We don’t have control over anything that happens to us, Joel. Shit happens, and the world still spins. The only thing we do have control over is the way we react to it—how we choose to let it affect us.”

You were glaring daggers through him, resentment contorting your attractive features into a snarl, your scar pinched inward with the furrow of your brow.

“Ellie was right. You’re not the only person to lose someone. Your grief does not justify your actions. I’ve heard about the things you’ve done, Joel. The horrible things. You don’t get to say that the world forced you to become what you are—you made that choice. You let your grief consume you, you let it control your life, you let it turn you cold and callous and spiteful and cruel. That’s not the world, Joel—that was you."

He felt his chest grow tight, stunned by your words. There was anger growing in him, blazing hotter.

“Don’t—”

“No.”

You snapped, and Joel could see his own rage reflected in your eyes.

“No, Joel, you’re gonna shut the fuck up and listen to me, for once. I’ve waited too damn long to say it, and you at least owe me this.”

He silently seethed, fists clenching beneath the table as his leg began to bounce with anxiety.

“Look around you. All of these people—me, too—have suffered, have been put through so much, but we’re still here. We’re trying. We’re fighting. We found hope where there wasn’t any, in spite of everything, we’re choosin’ to move forward. So you can’t say that the only way to survive is to become as hateful as the world around you—there’s still good left.”

He stayed quiet, head silently shaking at your words. HIs jaw was rippling as it clenched. You grew silent for a moment, before hesitantly speaking up. Your tone was much softer, now.

“You’re not the only person to lose her, Joel. You’re not the only person who lost Sarah.”

His eyes snapped to you, his expression turning stony at the mention of his daughter. He despised the look of pity in your eyes—the look of sympathy.

“I’m sorry, Joel. I’m so sorry about Sarah, I can’t even begin to understand how hard it must’ve been for you to go through that, but—but you don’t get to own that. That grief doesn’t belong to you.”

You swallowed. There were tears welling in your eyes, threatening to fall.

“Do you really think this is what she would’ve wanted you to become? What she—”

He stood abruptly, anger bubbling over and spewing from him as he shouted at you.

“You have no fucking right—”

“I loved her, too, Joel!”

You screamed, standing to meet him, and the man recoiled, flinching as tears began to track down your cheeks. You fumed.

“I loved Sarah, and I loved you, and I spent every single day missing you and hoping that by some godforsaken miracle, you—my family, was okay.”

My family. His gaze dropped to his shoes as he swallowed thickly.

“And when I heard from Tommy what had happened, I just—my heart broke for you, Joel, of course it did, but that little girl—I know she wasn’t mine, but I loved her, too. And don’t tell me I have no right to talk about her, because I did know her. I spent every day for five years with her, watchin’ her grow up, and—and I know it’s not the same, but you can’t take that from me. As hard as you try—as hard as you tried—to erase me, to push me away... I’ve never stopped loving you. Either of you.”

You turned away from him, trying to mask the pain that was erupting from deep within you—years and years of repressed anguish spilling from every pore.

Your back was to him, your shoulders rising and falling with shaky breaths, your sobs subdued by your willpower alone. As much as he tried to fight it, Joel felt guilt nesting within his soul.

“I know your world ended that night, I know you lost everything—but my world ended the night before.”

His lungs felt like they were shrinking.

“Y/N—”

“I’m gonna ask you something, Joel, and I already know the answer, but—but I need to hear you say it.”

You turned to face him once again, your sadness briefly replaced with cool calculation as you scrutinized him. He gave a barely perceptible nod.

“Did Sarah die that night, thinkin’ I just up and left without saying goodbye? Without knowing the truth?”

He felt the blood drain from his face, his mouth dry and tongue like sandpaper. He didn’t respond—he didn’t need to. You saw it in his eyes, the silent resignation, the shadow of shame that crested his features, the way his jaw rippled. You nodded slowly, the last of your tears drying up as you sniffed, and Joel could see the resentment slowly taking control.

“Darlin’, I—”

“When I saw you with Ellie, I thought maybe I was wrong. Maybe there was still a part of you in there that could love, that could care, that could be a father. Ellie is someone’s daughter, Joel. What if it was Sarah? You can’t—don’t turn your back on her. Please. Don’t—don’t break my heart again.”

He swallowed thickly, unable to meet your gaze. You shook your head again, an uncharacteristic calmness suddenly possessing you.

“I’ll pack you a bag and put it on my porch for you to take tomorrow morning. Some rations and clothes and everything you’ll need."

You started walking towards the door, as if ready to lead him out, and he shook his head frustratedly.

“I can't take her, Y/N, I’m not—”

“Yes, you are.”

You clipped, a glare piercing through him as you opened up the front door for him.

“Because if you don’t, m’gonna have to listen to you bitch about how much you regret it for the rest ’a your sorry life, and I’m not willing to put up with that.”

True to your word, there was a new backpack sitting on your front step early the next morning. Joel knocked twice on your door, but if you were home, you ignored him. He rifled through the contents quickly—you’d even included a makeshift first-aid kit, a thermos of coffee and some grounds.

As he shouldered the bag, a piece of paper fluttered to the ground. It was a note, messily scrawled in your familiar handwriting. He felt his heart skip a beat as he reread it, over and over, his lips parted in shock.

Cowboy—

I kept my eyes closed, but five minutes is starting to feel more like twenty years—but I'm still waiting. I'll always be waiting for you, Joel.

Good luck. Maybe when you get back, you can hold up your end of the bargain. I've learned to be patient.

Your perpetual neighbor, Y/N

P.S. I'm sorry. And I forgive you.

You remembered.

TAGLIST: @spiidergirlsworld @canpillowscry @str84pedro @daddy-din @pedropascal-whore @pppmitt @thirdoffive @elliescumsl0t @kagajgajaguwbeidheubqk (please comment to be added/removed)

[emma-m-black]

Soul Mate Magic - Chapter Seven

Rupert Giles x OC (FanFiction) - MATURE 18+

A new magical transfer comes to Sunnydale High, and ends up discovering a magical connection with our favorite Watcher.

OC is 19+ (Not a Minor), Age Gap, Slow Burn-ish (with a little preview thrown in there during the Bandy Candy Episode).

This will be a multi chapter story I don't know how spicy it will get yet, but I'll rate it Mature just to be safe.

Author Master List

Read: Chapter One, Chapter Two, Chapter Three, Chapter Four, Chapter Five, Chapter Six

Chapter Seven:

Rose leaned heavily against the wall next to the Library doors, feeling the cold seep into her back. The school was nearly deserted, and the silence only magnified the hollow ache in her chest. She glanced up at the clock that jutted out from the wall—three thirty-seven. Willow was over half an hour late. Each passing minute had felt like a lifetime, and Rose was beginning to feel like a ghost haunting these halls, waiting for something—anything—to pull her out of the numbness that clung to her.

She didn’t want to be here, especially not outside the Library. The place felt like it was suffocating her. The thought crossed her mind that maybe Willow was inside, but no, if she were, she would’ve come out by now. Or at least, Rose told herself that.

Pushing herself off the wall, she let out a shaky breath and, with leaden feet, entered the Library. The emptiness hit her immediately. No Willow. No one. Just the overwhelming quiet and the weight of everything that had happened.

She turned to leave, desperate to escape, when a soft clearing of the throat stopped her in her tracks.

“Ms. Murphy?” Giles’s voice was quieter than she remembered. The sound of it made her heart lurch painfully in her chest.

Rose didn’t turn around. “I’m not here to bother you. I was just looking for Willow. We were supposed to meet…” Her voice trailed off, brittle, like it might shatter at any moment.

“That’s… umm, alright. You’re more than welcome to wait for her if you’d like.” Giles offered, but his voice was strained, heavy with something unspoken.

Rose hesitated, and finally turned, bracing herself for what she might see. Giles stood near the entrance to his office, his glasses absent, his face etched with defeat. It broke her heart to see him like that, and she nearly crumbled right there.

“Really, it’s fine, Mr. Giles,” Rose whispered, barely able to speak past the tightness in her throat. “She’s probably just running late, so I’ll… I’ll just leave.”

But before she could take another step, Giles spoke again, his voice rough, like it pained him to say the words. “Actually, if you have a moment… I’d like to apologize. For this morning… and for everything else.”

Rose’s breath caught in her chest. She could feel her heart breaking all over again. She didn’t want to cry—not here, not in front of him—but the glassiness in her vision betrayed her.

She stayed rooted to the spot, unable to move, and Giles remained where he was, as if he too were afraid to step any closer.

“I can’t begin to tell you how sorry I am,” Giles continued, his voice trembling slightly. “For putting you in that situation… for taking advantage of our friendship. Even though I know we were both under the influence of a spell, I still should have known better. I should have been better.”

Rose’s throat tightened painfully, and she swallowed hard, trying to keep herself together. “It wasn’t all on you, Mr. Giles.”

“I know,” he said, his voice breaking, “but I should’ve protected you. I… I took something from you, something you can never get back, and I’ll never forgive myself for that. I wasn’t the person you needed me to be.”

“Rupert, you can’t blame yourself,” she said, her voice barely a whisper, a desperate attempt to ease the ache in his words.

“Oh, but I do.” His voice was raw, filled with anguish that tore at her heart. “And if I ever see Ethan again, I will kill him for what he did to us—for taking away our autonomy, for making us into something we weren’t.”

Rose blinked rapidly, forcing away the tear that threatened to fall. “He knew you… he called you ‘Ripper,’” she whispered, trying to change the subject, to ease the weight of guilt pressing down on them both.

Giles’s face darkened. “Yes. From my past… before I joined the Council.”

He took a step forward but stopped himself, as if afraid to close the distance between them. “Rose, please… I need to know if you’re alright. I need to know that you’re okay.”

“I’m… I will be,” Rose whispered, her voice fragile. “But I’m more worried about you. Ethan said this guilt would eat you alive, and I don’t want that to happen. Please, Rupert… I don’t blame you, and I never will. Please, don’t let this destroy you.”

The silence that followed was thick with sorrow, both of them standing across from each other, bound by a shared sadness and shame. Rose felt the weight of his gaze, saw the way his shoulders sagged under the burden of his guilt.

“I should go find Willow,” Rose said softly, breaking the silence with a sigh that seemed to carry all the sadness in the world.

“Yes, of course,” Giles replied, his voice hoarse. “And when you do… could you thank her for me? She… she overheard our conversation this morning and rather pointedly put me in my place.”

“So… she set this up, didn’t she?” Rose managed a small, fragile smile, the first one in what felt like forever.

Giles chuckled, though the sound was more of a sad exhale than anything else. “It would seem so.”

“I hope you have a good night, Rupert,” Rose said softly, her heart aching as she looked at the man standing across from her.

“You as well, Rose,” he replied, though there was a sadness in his voice that made it clear neither of them would.

As Rose turned to leave, her hand resting on the door, she paused, glancing back one last time. “Oh, I almost forgot… Ethan said something. He said fate is a bitch. What do you think he meant by that?”

Giles rubbed the back of his neck, his brow furrowed in thought. “I’ve been wondering that myself.”

Rose hummed thoughtfully, giving him one last, bittersweet smile before stepping into the hallway. There, waiting with a knowing smile on her face, was Willow.

“We’re not going to talk about it,” Rose said, her voice thick with unspoken gratitude, “but… thank you, Willow.”

Willow shrugged with a sly grin. “I Don’t know what you’re talking about. Ready to get your study on?”

“Yeah, let’s get out of here,” Rose said as she stood next to her friend, grateful for her presence.

As they walked down the hall, Willow glanced at her sideways. “So… you’re a witch, huh?” Rose turned slowly, her eyes narrowing. “Don’t worry. I haven’t told anyone and I won’t. If Giles trusts you, then so do I.”

Rose raised an eyebrow. “You don’t think the others know?”

Willow shook her head with a playful grin. “Nope. But… maybe you could teach me some things? I’ve dabbled a bit, and… I’m kind of really into magic.”

“You know,” Rose said, her voice soft but teasing, “I could just make you forget you ever found out.”

Willow’s smile widened. “But you won’t, because now you have someone to talk to about it!”

Rose let out a soft, broken laugh, the first real one in what felt like days, as they walked side by side, leaving the weight of the Library behind them.

Chapter Eight

[carelessflower]

rating shtv jace questionable moment

let be honest, it will mostly be season one plus two offending screenshots from season two. critical analysis only when i want to, the rest depends. the descent into hell is easy after all

5/10 - see? sh writers can write, first scene with jace they already show how he treat alec the rest of the season.

6/10 - that his job

3/10 - friendly reminder, alec was the acting head at this point aka jace's boss, it's his duty to report any strange occurrence at the institute and now you brought a STRANGE girl into HIS institute, i dont know, just a thought

3/10 - yes it kinda is, and it's alec choice at that seeing how he your superiors

3/10 - jace would be a shit head for the ny institute if a random pretty girl make him act like this. and again, it normal alec get suspicious at clary, because he, you know, can actually think through situations and not dive in first like a headless chicken

4/10 - yes, he has working brain cells

2/10 - dont you love it when the dude you supposedly share half your soul dismiss your valid concerns regarding your life

5/10 - if he's as you said you would be six feet under or in some ceils not here talking shit

1/10 - yes alec stop, don't you know jace is allergic to reasoning

2/10 - he knows you should be supportive of your parabatai

1/10 - all i can say is if a stranger comes into my life, not caring for anything but herself and jeopardizing my job, i would let out far worse things than angry rant

3/10 - no wonder jace fancies clary, they are never ready to hold themselves or each other accountable for anything. true love

🚩🚩🚩/10 - right before this izzy LITERALLY said clary go out WILLINGLY i have no words, alec's way too nice i would have 'oh this you' and drag jace daddy issue to filth back i would go lower than hell. by the way jace never apologize for this so. flop

0/10 - proceed to lose her next episodes

4/10 - flop. flop parabatai of the year

2/10 - funny how jace only bring up the parabatai bond when he needs alec to do something for himm hmmmm. it giving suspicious it giving affection with conditions it giving manipulation

-♾️/10 - that a totally normal thing to say about your brother, the one who you share a lifetime bond with. i normally wish jace choke on a porcupine

0/10 - jace only contribution to the parabatai bond is 2x03 and when he use his nepotism to transfer the head of ny institute position to alec. and even with alec already on his way to that title before imogen swooped in

5/10 - ooh be making that face now suddenly you care? dont make me laugh

0/10 - jace lies so well, all that practice telling himself he looks handsome every morning paid off

0/10 - my three year old cousin has more critical thinking than these two

0/10 - jace the one to talk he's incapable of seeing anything outside clary

-/10 - for whither thou storest, I will steal, and where thou trust, I will trust to betray.

 💀/10 - took them ten episodes to have alec FINALLY punch somebody for joking, using his sexuality against him when he's clearly NOT ready to talk about it. yeah fuck shit up baby

2/10 - oh okay, let talk about how you and clary fuck off to somewhere with the cup when the clave and a race supremacist massacre advocate cult leader are both hunting for it. then you and she proceed to play house with your newly discovered fake dad and left alec to deal with the mess. oh, did i mention izzy's complicit in your scheme and you left her there at the mercy of the clave?

1/10 - your saving cause more problems than elon musk to twt get over yourself

4/10 - selfish intentions + selfish actions = season one clace. a match made in heaven

6/10 - passable apology but why he cant just resist making it all about him lmaoooo

4/10 - the only joke here is your life

tag list: @dustandducks @cityofdownwardspirals @magnus-the-maqnificent @onetimetwotimesthreetimess @wildesummerchild @cam-ryt @khaleesiofalicante

[virgil-my-emo-son]

Lavender and Rosemary

Dukeceit Week 2024 Day 3, Cats!

Dukeceit Week 2024 is run by @imnotgrimimjustagrumpyreaper ! Also tagging @dukeceitweek ! Day three!!!

This one is a bit heavier than yesterday, trigger warning, Remus is just coming out of a hypomanic episode. Nothing serious has happened except for him impulsively jumping in a river which I imagine to be the Ohio River because I grew up by the Ohio River and it scares me lol. Remus's experiences are heavily based on my own experiences with hypomania.

However it is still quite fluffy, more hurt comfort than anything focused on the actual hypomanic experience! Their dynamic is once again very heavily inspired by TMDORG by Grim!

Ao3

Remus hit Janus’s doorbell and shifted his weight from one foot to the other, hyper aware of the water dripping off of him and pooling by his feet.

Janus opened the door and looked him up and down. “It’s March.”

“Yeah.”

“You went swimming?”

Remus shrugged. “Yeah.”

Janus opened the door. “Come in.”

Remus came in. He’d never actually been to Janus’s apartment. While they’d been hanging out in the same small circle of six people since high school, Remus had never been as close with Janus as he had with the others.

Which is exactly why he’d tracked him down on the Find My iPhone app.

Remus had already made a promise in some manner or another to all their other friends that he’d tell them if he was having a hypomanic episode, no matter how brief. And he was scared to tell them that it had been four days, four days that he hadn’t talked to them, and he was finally beginning to crash.

Remus had been so immersed in his thoughts that didn’t even realize Janus had walked out of the room until he was walking back in with a towel and a matching fluffy robe.

“Here.” Janus held them out to him.

“Thanks.” Remus gave a small smile, then glanced around for the bathroom.

“That way.” Janus motioned his head to the left. Remus nodded and walked over to the door, which did indeed lead to a bathroom.

“Do you mind if I take a shower?”

“Not at all.” Janus offered a small smile.

“Thank you, Jan.”

“Of course.”

As Remus stood under the water he’d turned on so hot it was nearly burning his skin, he was thinking about what he’d say to Janus when he went back out. He ran through a few things in his mind before he decided he didn’t like any of them and that he’d just vibe it.

He looked for a moment at Janus’s assortment of colorful bottles on the corner ledge. He saw at least three which looked like some version of body wash, so he opened the top of each one and smelled them. He decided on a rosemary and lavender scented gel in an appropriately purple bottle.

He closed his eyes as he tilted his head back into the water, letting it wash the bubbles off his skin.

Remus slipped on the robe once he’d dried off. It was deep grey and soft, with a small snake emblem embroidered on the left breast.

Janus raised his eyebrows when Remus walked back out. “You look like a cooked lobster.”

“Do I?” Remus waggled his own eyebrows. “Good enough to eat?”

Janus rolled his eyes. “Sure.” He patted the couch beside him. “Sit.”

Remus climbed over the arm of the couch to sit where Janus had indicated, hugging his knees against his chest.

 “Uncurl.”

Remus fixed him with a suspicious look. “Why should I?”

“Because I made you hot chocolate, and I’ll only give it to you if you open up and tell me what’s going on.”

Remus sighed, eyeing the black mug in Janus’s hand. He made a grabbing motion, and Janus handed it to him as he let his feet fall to the floor. He held it between his palms, looking down at the mini marshmallows.

“I had an episode. That’s why I was all wet, I had this impulsive thought to jump in the river.”

“The river?” Janus’s eyes widened. “The river’s gross. How did you not get eaten by a giant catfish or something?”

Remus shrugged. “Beats me. The water was so cold, though… it kinda snapped me out of my head. I was like, ‘what am I doing?’ Usually, I don’t have those sorta self-aware moments, but today… I guess it was just different.”

Janus only nodded, encouraging Remus to continue, so Remus continued.

“I don’t know, I told everyone I’d tell them if I needed anything, or if I got manic, or I suppose hypomanic. And I didn’t. And I was worried they’d get all mad at me, so I figured I’d go to the one person I hadn’t made that deal with.”

Janus nodded again. “I see. I’m really glad you came, Remus.” He gave a gentle smile. “I’m glad a catfish didn’t get you.”

Remus laughed. “I am too, Janus.”

“Do you want to talk more, or do you want to do something else?”

Remus considered for a moment. “I’m really tired… can I just have a pillow or something for the couch?”

“My bed’s a queen.” Janus tilted his head. “That’s definitely big enough for two.”

“Jan, I don’t want to encroach—”

“You’re not encroaching. I’m offering.”

Remus examined his face for a moment, looking for a hint of hesitation he couldn’t find. “Then, yes. I accept your offer.”

Janus smiled. “Come on.”

Remus trailed behind him into his bedroom, which was neat and tidy and yellow and black. It looked exactly like what Remus expected Janus’s bedroom to look like.

“Here, let me get you a T-shirt and some shorts, and I’ll brush my teeth, and we can get to sleep.”

Remus changed in the bedroom as Janus was in the bathroom. It all felt so domestic, getting changed from a robe into pajamas. Getting ready to sleep in a bed together.

Remus felt like he could get used to this.

Janus walked back in, pulling his long hair back into a ponytail and looking past him to the bed. “Get out of there, Python.”

Remus turned to see a dark grey cat leap off the bed, looking at him with wide yellow eyes before disappearing.

“Python? Like the snake?”

“Like the programming language.” Janus grinned. “You know I’m a STEM guy.”

“God, you are such a nerd.” Remus pulled back the grey striped comforter, getting into the left side of the bed while Janus climbed into the right.

“Can… how do you want to do this?” Janus asked.

“Um… I…” Remus swallowed. “Do you mind holding my hand?”

“All night?”

“You don’t have to.”

Janus’s hand found his, warm, stable, comforting. “Anything that will make you feel better.”

“Thank you.” Remus whispered as Janus’s other hand clicked off the bedside table light.

“Of course, Remus.” Janus whispered back into the darkness. “Do I smell… did you use my body wash? The lavender rosemary?”

“I did. I hope that’s—”

“Oh, it’s fine.” Janus squeezed his hand. “I don’t mind. Just was wondering.”

“Okay.” Remus squeezed back. “You always smell nice, I wanted to smell nice, too.”

“I smell nice, do I?”

“You do.” Remus scooted infinitesimally closer to him.

“Mm. Thank you.” Janus hummed, and Remus could’ve sworn he shifted a bit towards him, too.

[raventhedracovis]

tell us about wordgirl bestie!

Will gladly use this as an opportunity to talk about a few headcanons that are canon in mine and @c0de-0f-the-clans reboot!

I'll stick with the characters we've done line ups for for now. Which would be: Becky/Wordgirl, Huggy, Tobey, Dr. Two-Brains, Chuck, The Butcher, Charlie, The Other Henchman, The Whammer, Invisi-Bill, Big Left Hand Guy, Ms. Question, and The Coach.

Becky/Wordgirl (or course we're starting with the girl herself):

Bi. She just is. I don't make the rules. Yes I do >:3

Non-binary but uses she/her pronouns. Comes from noticing in the show how casual she is with referring to herself as "mister". Even lampshaded in the Thanksgiving episode when she says "no more mister nice Becky! ... Or miss Becky. Either one :)".

She's got two birthdays, the day her parents adopted her and the approximate date she was actually born. Her birthday is always celebrated September 28th, but her actual birthday is closer to December 16th.

Part of the reason Becky sucks at art so much is because she sees way more colors than humans can perceive. A color combination that looks good to her just looks ugly or like the same shade of brown. Though even without the whole "painting with colors beyond human perception" thing she just generally sucks at art.

Becky is autistic and stims by pulling and messing with her hair. We also decided she has a bee necklace and she fidgets with it too.

Her full name is Rebecca but goes by Becky.

She's currently 4'5" and the shortest in her grade. When she's all grown up she's going to tower over her friends at around six feet (or more).

Bob/Captain Huggy Face:

Captain Huggy Face is not his real name (or title but I'll get to that in a later post). It's just the name Wordgirl came up with on the spot.

Just like Becky, Bob is only his nickname. Robert is his full name in the family.

Pan.

Non-binary as well. Just his vibes.

By Lexicon standards, he's considered colorblind. By Earth standards, he's not fhdh.

In his late 20's, but part of the reason is for a different post.

Chuck the Evil Sandwich-Making Guy

Trans man <3

Demi pan.

Chuck's full name is Charles Edward Guy.

Chuck is in his early 20's, a headcanon we pulled thanks to a flashback in the show where Tim and Sally are clearly around the same age they found and adopted Becky but Chuck is oh so small.

Dr. Two-Brains

He stands at 6'5" but slouches a lot and therefore looks more like 6'3".

Technically has three birthdays! One for Steven, one for Squeaky, and one for the day the two fused.

Pan. Can and will flirt with anyone and everything.

In his late 30's.

The Henchmen

The other henchman is Joey Meatball. We both had different ideas of what his name was and thought the combined name was funny.

The two are romantically involved <3

Charlie is 6'7", the other one is 5'2".

Both are in their 40's.

The Butcher

He's 6'9". Big man.

His full name is Jack Edison Shepherd Jr. He went by Butch for a while as a kid, and it kind of stuck.

Bi

The reason he struggles with words so much is because he has an expressive language disorder.

In his early 40's.

Tobey

While he was the tallest kid in 5th grade, he's only gonna be 5'4" all grown up, and it's going to make him so, so mad jhkdg.

We have also hit him with the autism beam.

He had braces at some point, as evidenced by a retainer that can be seen by his bed in most episodes. We have however, just given him braces in our reboot.

Tobey has anxious attachment style. Something I can literally talk about in paragraphs (and have. Twice.) and will probably share another day.

His birthday is reverse pi, 4/13.

The Whammer

The Whammer is half Greek, half Texan, and 100% professional wrestler. His father is a Greek immigrant who got into the professional wrestling career where he met The Whammer's mother, a professional wrestler from Texas.

His real name is Adam Minos.

Was supposed to follow in his parents' footprints and apprenticed under his dad. Unfortunately, his powers where deemed illegal for use in the ring.

In his early 20's.

He's 5'8".

Gay.

Invisi-Bill

He is romantically involved with Big Left Hand Guy. :]

In his early 30's.

He has ADHD.

Stands at about 5'11".

Gay.

Big Left Hand Guy

He is romantically involved with Invisi-Bill. :]

He's related to one of the reoccurring bank security guards.

Has anxiety.

In his late 30's.

He's 5'1".

Gay.

Ms. Question

Trans and non-binary. She's non-binary in the sense that she dodges any questions about her gender. No matter what, she will make you second guess yourself when you try to give her a label.

She's Afro-Latina.

Bicurious, because she's also dodge the question jdfkgh.

Her civilian name is Anne Neasia.

In her early 30's.

Very tall woman. Stands at 6'.

The Coach

The Coach has dwarfism. He stands at 4'8".

He's related to Timmy Tim-Bo. It's why he keeps him around.

In his late 40's.

[eisforeidolon]

Question: I wanted to bring this up, you've done it before, but it was years ago. You kind of flailed at the beginning 'cause now we're kind of at the better half of two decades but I wanted to see what you remember best from each season now that it's been a long time. See if you remember season one, two, three - so for each season, go for it.

[Unsurprisingly, this gets super long, so answers under a cut.]

Jared: Action!

Jensen: Well, if we flailed then, this is gonna -

Jared: Yeah, exactly!

Jensen: This is gonna be a train wreck.

Jared: [repeating from audience] A six hour panel.

Jensen: That's right. What we remember the most?

Question: Yeah, like the most memorable thing. I know last time you did it you mixed up, like, season four and five, you couldn't remember two at all -

Jared: We had a season two? Uhhh, I'll give an attempt. Season one was just literally the city of Vancouver. I remember just getting there, it was beautiful, it was July, I'd never been, we were shooting Wendigo, we had a -

Jensen: Do you mean like a life moment or a moment in the show?

Question: I was gonna say the show, but you know what, just gimme what you got.

Jensen: Yeah yeah yeah. Alright. Season one -

Jared: You want odds or evens?

Jensen: I'll do odds - unless I can't think of one. I remember having divers hold my feet and hold me under water with a young child in Dead in the Water and that was a very, very freaky feeling, being held under water. Especially when you're responsible for some other person's child.

Jared: [taps Jensen] I remember the hot tub - same day, I remember the hot tub they had set up off-camera because Buntzen Lake is super cold. And so we had to be in there so long they were afraid - it's possible you could get hypothermic or whatever? And so they had a hot tub set up, like if you were, like Jensen probably could see it from when he was under water so we'd have to go after we'd jumped in, we'd go in between takes, go to the hot tub area. Hot tub, that sounds - alright. You did number one so I'll do number two. Number two I remember getting - cutting my scalp off.

Jensen: Was that number, was that?

Jared: I dunno.

Jensen: You're just making stuff up now. No no no, that was the episode where Bobby backs his Chevelle into the house and we jump in and -

Jared: Was that number two, that's season two? Ah, that was season three!

Jensen: Ah, see! I think I got a two.

Jared: Okay. My favorite part of two, was season three, apparently! So.

Jensen: I got a two. When Dad came back and shot Yellow Eyes, that was the end of two, right?

Jared: Yes, yes.

Jensen: Boom. Okay, so I just told this story to my daughter actually the other day. When Dean gets thrown - when I get thrown against the tombstone and I pull the Colt out and then Dad grabs Yellow Eyes and I shoot him? So it was Fred Lehne's coverage and I dove into this tombstone that it was - we were shooting on stage, but the tombstone had been foamed so that I could really dive into it. So they had kind of a foam pad on the front of it? But it only covered the arching [?] portion of the tombstone, the base of it was still stone. And so I, you know [gets up to demonstrate], this was the tombstone [points at front of stage], I was here [takes several steps back], the cameras were here, so I was like they're gonna cut to this, I know they're gonna cut to me kind of flying into it [imitates leaping position], and then once I land [moves to lay against designated tombstone spot], then Fred walks up and the camera's right here [points over his shoulder from behind]. So I gained a little extra, because I was still young back then, and I dove, and I turned at the last second, and my ulnary nerve, which is also referred to as the funny bone, hit the corner of the stone.

Jared: Did you laugh? [Looks at Norton]

Jensen: From - and I mean, it was like a running jump, so it was - it was so much force. And I hit it, and my whole arm went numb and then felt like it was on fire. Like it was very traumatic, but I didn't yell cut because it was Fred's coverage. So I just very slowly rolled over and I was just like - my arm was just like vibrating [shakes arm]. And it was one of the most grueling pains I've ever experienced and to this date, this that this elbow is much more sensitive - like if I bump it, barely, it's like [pained inhale] OW - it's like hitting my funny bone all the time. And it was because of that. That was season two. [turns to Jared, pointing] Season three, he ripped his scalp off!

Jared: Scalp piece off! Season two I also broke my wrist.

Jensen: That's right.

Jared: Season three was the scalping.

Jensen: Season four? Do we have a season four?

Jared: I do!

Jensen: What happened? Oh, yeah he met his wife.

Jared: No no no no, not that at all! I'm just kidding, of course that's it.

Jensen: Ok! Yeah. Ruby was played by Genevieve Cortese, so boom, that's changed his life.

Jared: Season five is Swan Song.

Jensen: Season five Swan Song, I got beat up [puts hand over eye] and I had a thing on my eye -

Jared: Oh, yeah!

Jensen: and then the glue started to melt, just like yours did in -

Jared: Season two!

Jensen: season two. Oh, we're throwin' em down now!

Jared: Yeah, dropping em like it's hot.

Jensen: That was also assbutt -

Jared: Assbutt, yeah, that was five.

Jensen: and the bottle did not break.

Jared: That was amazing. Amazing. And remember [demonstrates throwing]

Jensen: You guys heard that story?

Jared: It's on the gag reel! Yeah, it's on the gag reel, they kept on throwing it -

Jensen: So, they didn't watch the gag reel!

Jared: Watch the gag reels!

Jensen: Anyway. Okay, that was season five, season six?

Jared: Soulless.

Jensen: Soulless Sam. Was that the pushup/pullup scene? [Jared fake preens] I mean, you gotta give it to your stunt double for that scene, that was pretty amazing.

Norton: [rimshot]

Jared: [flails comically]

Jensen: Thank you.

Jared: Season seven, uh, Dick. [Jensen deadpans] Roman! Dick Roman!

Jensen: Roman.

Jared: Turducken. That was the thing?

Jensen: Was that turducken? That was turducken, right? [fake horking sound]

Jared: Bobby died. [sounds of dismay from audience] See funny bone not so funny. [turns to Norton]

Jensen: Season eight?

Jared: Was great!

Jensen: Season nine -

Jared: Season eight was -

Jensen: was fine.

Norton: [rimshot]

Jensen: What was season eight?

Jared: The trials.

Audience: Sam's hair!

Jared: Season eight was, yeah, I had [gestures indicating long hair] -

Jensen: Oh, was that the shampoo commercial? Like the whole season was just a shampoo commercial. [rolls eyes] Wait, was that Samhain -

Jared: Maybe he's born with it, maybe it's season eight.

Jensen: Was that Samhain?

Jared: Samhain? No, that was season four.

Jensen: Right. [looks pointedly away] Um.

Jared: Right? [confirming with audience] Samhain was four. But [gestures to hair again, says ???] -

Jensen: We've established eight -

Jared: Yes, nine -

Jensen: Nine - oh, this is where it gets fuzzy. Like nine, ten, eleven, twelve [makes wavy hand motion] -

[Audience is shouting various things from here that they repeat and/or respond to]

Jared: Gadreel?

Jensen: What, was that Purgatory? Oh, Purgatory yeah. She's like - that was eight? [pointing] Oh, she says that was eight. Purgatory? Yeah, it was eight! [makes comically unsure face]

Jared: What happened in season nine?

Jensen: Somebody help us, what happened in season nine? This is embarrassing!

Jared: Tortilla?

Jensen: What's this? [slaps arm repeatedly] Oh! The Mark of Cain!

Jared: Gadreel! Gadreel! Mark of Cain and Tahmoh -

Jensen: Was that the fight with Cain in the barn?

Jared: That was the knife wound [points to knee].

Jensen: That was nine? I thought that was thirteen! [Jared laughs] Shit.

Jared: Okay, moving on -

Jensen: This is a disaster. [exaggeratedly angry] I told you this was gonna be a train wreck!

Jared: Ten. So here's something from ten I remember, it didn't happen on set -

Jensen: Wait! It was the the - the high school musical.

Jared: Yes...?

Jensen: That was the two hundredth episode.

Jared: Yes, which is what I - my biggest memory from ten, not on set, but in Vancouver -

Audience: Eye of the Tiger!!

Jared: [incredulous] Was that ten?

Jensen: [even more incredulous] That was, like, season ... two!?

Jared: Get with the program, that was like -

Jensen: When was that, what was that?

Audience: Four!

Jensen: That's what I said.

Jared: The two hundredth episode party.

Jensen: What?

Jared: The two hundredth episode party! At the Marriott or whatever -

Jensen: Yeah? What happened?

Jared: I dunno, that was season ten.

Jensen: It was the two hundredth episode party, Jared and I were probably drunk before it started. Eleven?

Jared: Killing Death. That was ten?

Audience: Amara!

Jensen: Tomorrow, what? Laura? Oh, Amara.

Jared: [imitates garbling of audience] Yeah, yeah, Amara.

Jensen: Amara, right, Big E Swalls.

Jared: Season twelve?

Audience: Mary!

Jared: Mary was in season one also!

Jensen: Twelve we got mom back, yeah, we got mom back. Oh, that was - was that the scene where I, was that the season where Dean has that confrontation with mom and basically says, says, 'You suck. I blame you.'?

Jared: Yeah, that was rough. Okay, we got - thirteen!

Jensen: That was a hard scene. Alright, great, that was, what was that -

Jared: Twelve.

Jensen: That was twelve. Thirteen! This is - we're just smashing this right now.

Jared: Jaaaaaaack. Al Cal.

Jensen: Jack? Oh, little nekkid boy, yeah.

Jared: Wasn't he in the last scene of the season, though? He was in his undies. Awww? He's a grown adult! I didn't say he was like, naked! He was wearing clothing.

Jensen: Poor Alex. Season fourteen?

Jared: Second to last one. [Jensen laughs] Penultimate, next! Fifteen, I don't remember it again. Um -

Jensen: Wait, fourteen, what happened in fourteen?

Audience: Michael!

Jensen: Michael.

Jared: Is that the air fight?

Jensen: Oh, right, that was the marionette fight. [exaggeratedly imitates a marionette on strings] This is me and Pellegrino's worst moment in our careers. Like just [imitates holding onto another person] holding each other, swinging, going, 'This is it. We'll never work again.' Bob Singer behind the monitor going, 'This is it, I'll never work again - they'll never work again!' [both crack up]

Jared: [gruff voice] 'This is it, they'll never work again.'

Jensen: Season fifteen, rusty rebar. There you go.

Jared: Oh, I love him! Guest star of the year!

Jensen: What? Of all the what? Just a little rusty rebar! That never hurt anybody. Well [holds up one finger] somebody.

Jared: Pie, I think pie in the face, I remember. The wig! [taps Jensen's arm] Yes, that was my I'll never work again! [both laughing]

Jensen: I remember I watched that episode and I was like, 'Ooof. What animal died that they put on his head?'

Jared: It was a Canadian raccoon. It's [???]. Um, yeah, alright, I guess that all wraps it up! Thank you.

Jensen: I need a nap.

Jared: Amen.

[rose-tea-and-strawberries]

Oh, but that one episode where Mortimer was lying about being the club critic and he demanded to have some cute girls to sit with him. With Yuu working there, Minnie and Daisy weren’t enough for him and wanted Yuu to sit with him. Cue the entire Fab 5 and all the patrons of the club putting all stops and not caring if the reputation of the House of Mouse goes downhill for Yuu’s sake. (Of course, that won’t happen because Lumiere quickly revealed that he was the critic)

Fun Fact: This was actually one of (if not the) first episodes of HoM episodes little me watched so this is going to be fun.

So since Lumiere got held up (I'm 100% convinced that it was because he was so excited for his job as a critic he somehow accidently caused a mishap in Adam and Belle's castle and now all of them ended up being late because Mrs Potts and Cogsworth forced him to fix it. Adam and Belle were especially upset because they had brought a few books from their library they wanted to lend to Yuu - Chip even pitched in a few of his favourite tea bags).

Now Mortimer, the scourge of the earth, the repulsive rodent himself. Yuu very much dislikes him and she practically likes everyone. When he first enters enters the club, the Sensational Six do their very best to make sure that neither of them get within each other’s sight but Yuu being Yuu thinks that he might not be as bad everyone tells her because hey, her friends at NRC didn’t exactly have the best reputation before they encountered The Power Of Love Friendship™. 

She immediately understood why everyone hates him three seconds after meeting him.

Thankfully she’s got overprotective work dads and mums that always have their eyes on him and her so she never has to stick around. Even when they are busy we’ve got the patrons ready to call on her the second she enters within six feet of Mortimer.

Also Pete may be an awful and downright cruel jerk but he's a jerk with standards. Even he hates Mortimer and finds it disgusting that the mouse makes advances on people that are clearly uncomfortable with him. I remember in the Christmas special, when he trapped Minnie under mistletoe and tried to force a kiss on her, Pete quickly took Minnie's place and kissed him instead. Yeah he tries to close down the club in dastardly ways but tricking a young girl like that? Pal, even he draws the line.

So whilst Mortimer is enjoying the fact that he can do whatever he wants and no one can deny him, he decides that it’s finally time to get to know the girl that everyone seems to love so he demands that Yuu sits at his table.

Mortimer: *smirking as he leans over his table on his elbows* You know what, doll? Hows about ya come sit here with me as well?

*record scratch* *entire club goes silent as everyone turns to stare at Mortimer and Yuu, the latter of who’s smiling yet looks both surprised and uncomfortable* *insert Kill Bill sirens*

Mickey: *looks straight at Mortimer with a forced smile, paws clenched, and completely tense with anger* Yuu, go to the staff room.

Yuu: But what about the-

Minnie: Don’t worry about anything, sweetie.

Daisy: Yeah, honey, you go take your break. We’ll handle everything.

Meanwhile Goofy is holding a very angry, loudly yelling Donald back from attacking Mortimer there and then. Yeah, he was angry that his girlfriend was forced to sit with him but Daisy is an adult and a very capable duck who is more than ready to prove how much of a spitfire she can be - Yuu is his kid a girl that doesn’t have that kind of power (to be honest though, if she did attack him, not only would the entire club provide alibis for her, he’s sure that the villains would throw her a party). 

Mickey makes it very clear to Mortimer that whilst he loves the club and would do anything to protect it, it’s not worth it if Yuu gets hurt. He’ll put on a show, alright, but if Mortimer even thinks of even looking at Yuu, then not even he can control what happens.

The patrons also collectively agreed that if the House of Mouse does get closed down, they’re more than happy to fund another one anyway.

Everyone’s 1000% more alert than usual. The animal characters all have their claws out and are balefully glaring at Mortimer whilst the adult humans make sure to keep an eye out for Yuu no matter where she is. Lots of the clients are parents so their protective instincts are on overdrive.

For the entirety of the night, Yuu finds herself seated at a table with Maleficent, Jack Skellington, Oogie Boogie, The Horned King and frickin Chernabog himself. Forget scary dog privileges, no one in their right mind would even think of approaching someone who's being guarded by the forces of evil, the powers of hell and the embodiments of fear.

I feel like some of the ladies would feel especially protective. Tiana was a black waitress in the 1920 so she’s definitely had her share of workplace harassment, Esmeralda’s been hit on quite a few times on men that have no concept of the word ‘no’ and same thing with Megara.

Meg: This is why I hate men.

Hercules: You do 🥺

Meg: All men except you, wonder boy. Now are you gonna punch him or should I?

You think the villains would be bad when it comes to people upsetting Yuu? Just wait until you see what her ‘big brothers’ would do to the poor unfortunate soul that hurt her.

To make up for the mix-up, Lumiere gets the castle staff to perform ‘Be Our Guest’ for Yuu. Even after the whole fiasco, everyone makes sure that neither of them crosses paths again. The clients don’t really interact with him but both the villains’ and heroes’ sidekicks make sure to remind him that he’s on everyone’s hitlist blacklist

Also Daisy gives Yuu a box full of pepper spray ‘for emergencies’

[novankenn]

Jaune 1/2 (v2-4)

Nora: I have one! Jump!

Ren: Nora don’t!

Jaune: Wait what? You want me to jump? What for?

Nora tosses her wagasa towards Weiss who catches if clumsily, and then promptly falls backwards trapped beneath it. While the wagasa was airborne, Nora pulled her grenade launcher from her back and mech-shifted it into its hammer form.

Nora: NO time to explain, Red! JUMP!

Ren: Don’t!

Shrugging her shoulders, Jaune did as Nor asked and leapt into the air, only to have her eyes grow wide as she saw the face of the hammer swinging towards her feet. With cat like grace Jaune landed on the face of the hammer, coiled the muscles of her legs and pushed as Nora pulled the trigger at the apex of her swing.

Jaune: SHIT!

Jaune’s legs shook and hurt like hell, but she found herself closing on the massive grimm, and fast. Cocking her hand back, she focused. The nevermore squawked in annoyance, as Jaune landed the blow and started to fall back towards the ground.

Pyrrha: It wasn’t a hard enough hit! 

Jaune obviously due to the height didn’t hear Pyrrha’s comment, but her own thoughts were exactly the same. It wasn’t enough, and she doubted she could survive another one of Nora’s assists. Jaune grunted as she impacted a hard surface. Rolling over, she found herself still several meters above the ground, kneeling on a snowflake?

Weiss: Hurry up! I can’t hold that construct for long!

Again, Jaune barely heard her shouted comment, but she knew she needed to act fast. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the nevermore, wheel about and start to dive upon her.

Jaune: Well, if one hit didn’t do the trick… guess I’ll just have to hit it more.

As the nevermore closed the last few meters, Jaune leapt towards it.

Pyrrha was a very observant person. She had to be. As a championship competitor, she needed to be able to size up an opponent’s style in seconds. Having watched Jaune trained for three days, she had a good gage on what Jaune was capable of. Which is why when she latched onto the nevermore by grabbing a handful of feathers and just started smashing her fist against its chest… Pyrrha was able to count the strikes.

Pyrrha: fifteen, sixteen, seventeen, eighteen, nineteen, twenty…

Everyone else, including the new arrivals of a blond woman and her black haired partner, stood in silence and shock as the nevermore squealed in pain.

Pyrrha: Fifty-five, fifty-six, fifty-seven, fifty-eight…

The nevermore’s wings suddenly folded backwards, causing its bulk with Jaune still holding on to plummet towards the hard ground below. Jaune recognizing the danger she was in. pushed off the great grimm, putting distance between it and herself as they continued to race towards the ground below.

Jaune: OW! AH! URK! GAH! ACK!

Pyrrha moved as quickly as she could, putting herself under the rolling form of Jaune, as she impacted and then bounced off of small glyphs Weiss was throwing into the air. When Pyrrha caught her partner, she was surprised at how light she felt, and at the ease she was able to break the last part of her fall safely.

A cloud of dust filled the air, at the impact of the monster grimm, and as the six others, moved in to eliminate the beast, Pyrrha flexed the muscles in her legs, and bolted for the cliffs.

Jaune: What?

Pyrrha: I’m getting you to the cliffs, before anyone tries to pair us up. You hang tight, I can get us there.

Jaune: Okay…

Jaune’s head fell towards her chest, an obvious sign to Pyrrha that Jaune was hurting… most likely from all the impacts with those glyphs, not to mention being exploded into the air.

Pyrrha: Jaune?

Jaune: Huh?

Pyrrha: I have to ask was it necessary to hit that grimm sixty-three times?

Jaune however didn’t hear or answer Pyrrha’s question. Her aching body, and swimming head, finally succumbing to the mind and pain numbing darkness of unconsciousness.

==\ Episode List /==