#based on our snow here I would have guess the trail was very heavy

[darkwood-sleddog]

My OG team at the end of their run this morning! Mr D took Slash on the bike and I went on the rig because despite the snow on our driveway the road was pretty bare.

Feeling a lot more confident again, even if Sigurd was a bit of a dick to Zombie in the beginning (leaping and biting her). She truly has the patience of a saint, but i was SO grateful to have my powerhouse big dog back in front of me on the last half of our run.

There was one very scary moment where a car did NOT wait for us to pull over and came up behind us to pass us very very suddenly and the dogs handled it like champs. I love my bombproof tough doggies so much. Will be calling my car guy tomorrow….

#dogblr #alaskan malamute #dog #canine #sigurd #zombie #dog photography #sled dogs #dogsledding #working season 22 23 #based on our snow here I would have guess the trail was very heavy #but we won’t know until I get my car looked at #to be fair to my car I abuse the hell out of it and she’s still going strong almost 10 years later

[cryptidvoidwritings]

So if you were to read this as a prologue to, say, a 40-page tornado of Tuggerstrap nonsense, would this be a satisfying opening?

*yeets into the void*

The day dawned cold and grey and it had not improved all morning, the sun little more than weak light filtering through the thick clouds. The air was heavy with the threat of more early spring snow and a hush had settled over the usually bustling London streets. A cat with any sense would have stayed curled up in their den to sleep the day away in a pile of warm fur— preferably with another cat or two for extra insulation. Munkustrap would have very much liked to be among them.

Unfortunately, duty called.

He yawned, picking his way through the piles of junk and puddles of slush with Alonzo at his side. At least their patrol was almost over; strays and rival clans weren’t much in the business of picking territory fights during the cold months.

Even news of Macavity’s doings had a tendency to grind to a halt over the winter.

“Don’t let Cafalle see you yawning on patrol,” Alonzo said around a yawn of his own.

Munkustrp snorted. “Cafalle relinquished her position specifically so she wouldn’t have to worry about patrols anymore, let alone what I do on them.”

Alonzo laughed. “How do you think she’s taking to retirement?”

“Bossing around her humans, I imagine. It probably suits her fine.”

They squeezed out of the junkyard’s front gate and started down the route. Munkustrap dipped his head every so often, testing the scent markers and making mental notes about which ones would need to be refreshed first. Alonzo brushed over the most degraded of them. Everything else would hold. They just needed to complete this lap of their street trails and then Munkustrap could nap until the afternoon.

This time Alonzo yawned. “Any chance of breakfast?”

Munkustrap considered. They were making good time to the theater and there were very few humans out.

“How about coffee takeaway?”

“How about waffles?”

“We’re not making good enough time to sit down. But we could go to that place with Belgian waffles?”

Alonzo perked up. “We could.”

It would take them off their route, but it shouldn’t delay them too much in getting back. They chatted idly as they turned off the big road and took the small side streets. Munkustrap was half-listening to a story about Cassandra when he stopped dead in his tracks.

“Munkustrap?”

That scent.

“Munkus, you okay?”

He’d forgotten it— at least, he’d told himself he had. It was easy enough to pretend; it had been months since he’d first scented honeyed cardamom. Munkustrap shook himself. He turned to see Alonzo’s worried green eyes and offered an automatic smile to reassure him.

“Sorry, sorry.”

“What is it? What’s there?”

“Nothing. I just smelled something familiar. Ish.”

“Another cat?” Alonzo asked, pointing his ears forward and looking where Munkustrap did.

“Likely.”

“You don’t know?”

Munkustrap shrugged. “Sort of? It was just a scent. Father and I were late to meet Gus. It wasn’t like I had a chance to introduce myself.”

“Well... We’re not late to meet Gus now.”

That was true. Munkustrap pawed at the ground as he looked around. They had time, but... There were a number of bars and restaurants and shops all along Tottenham Court road. The scent could be coming from any of them.

“No. No, we shouldn’t,” he said at last. “I’m not going to have you come on a wild chase with me for a cat I don’t know. Cass would have my head. Let’s get those waffles.”

Alonzo shrugged his acquiescence and they started on their way again. They’d traversed the next block and were waiting for the light to change when honey teased his nose. Munksutrap pushed his whiskers forward.

“Who’s that?” Alonzo asked in the sort of voice that was usually reserved for Cassandra doing... well, anything.

Munkustrap turned to see where he was looking. On the opposite corner, a Maine Coon stood brazenly on two legs, lounging against the base of a streetlamp. In the weak light of mid-morning, his head fur and well-combed mane shone gold.

“It’s... It’s him.”

“Oh.” Alonzo breathed in deeply. “Oh. That’s quite nice, actually.”

Munkustrap gave a startled laugh.

As if he knew he was under scrutiny, the tom across the way looked directly at them. Munkustrap’s mouth felt increasingly dry. The tom turned his body in one long, smooth movement that involved an absolutely unnecessary, but very pleasing, gyration of a hip.

“I guess we don’t have to go on a chase, then, eh?” Alonzo said.

“Uh. Right.”

Munkustrap had the distinct feeling they were being sized up; the tom wasn’t even trying to hide how he was staring. They would have to cross the street in order to be on their way to the waffle place. He cleared his throat and ran his claws absently through his unruly shoulder fur, which had not had the decency to grow into a proper mane.

“Okay,” he said, “Let’s go.”

Alonzo fell back a couple of paces as he followed Munkustrap across the street. The tom lounged against the street lamp, paws resting casually on studded belts that crossed at his hips. He smiled languidly as they drew near.

When they were within a few inches of each other, Munkustrap stood on two legs.

“Good morning to you,” the Maine Coon purred.

His eyes were dichroic: Bright blue and warm gold bisected neatly by his pupils. He had a beauty spot on one perfect, high cheekbone. Munkustrap’s insides flipped.

He��s gorgeous.

“Good morning.”

The thought occurred that Munkustrap had no idea what he would smell like to another cat. He’d never bothered to ask anyone. What if he smelled like... like old rubber and rusting metal from the junkyard? What would the tom think of him? Though he wasn’t turning away in disgust, so it couldn’t be that bad. Right?

“And what brings you out here in such appalling weather?”

“D’you know there are humans around?”

There was a beat of silence. Munkustrap’s cheeks grew hot. He could feel Alonzo rolling his eyes at his back. The tom attempted to stifle a laugh, which Munkustrap was grateful for because Alonzo didn’t even bother. Any effort from the tom was wasted seconds later.

“Aren't you a smooth talker!” the tom gasped around his laughter. “Did you practice that one?”

“Should I have?” Munkustrap grumbled. He stopped himself from scratching the back of his neck in embarrassment and straightened to his full height. “It’s a legitimate question. Any human might see you like this.”

“Might, but won’t,” the Maine Coon said airily. “They never look down to see what’s in front of them.”

“… Fair point.”

Humans were basically blind their entire lives, after all, and cats rarely got caught when they didn’t want to be seen.

“So what brings you out at this time of the morning other than worrying about cats on two legs?”

“Waffles, mostly.”

“Waffles? Did your kitten wake you at the crack of dawn begging, or something?”

Munkustrap looked askance at Alonzo. Even on four legs, he didn’t look young enough to be a true kitten. The Maine Coon didn’t even look older than Alonzo— and Alonzo had insisted on very loudly celebrated turning 16 months old only a couple of weeks ago. He decided the tom was trying to get a rise out of them.

“Waffles seemed like an easy treat for being out in this weather.”

“Anything to keep the kids happy, hmm?”

There was something in the tom’s tone that Munkustrap thought might be envy, though the inviting smile never slipped from his lips. He could feel Alonzo starting to shift restlessly behind him. Munkustrap waved him back.

“What’s your excuse for being out, if you don’t like ours?”

The tom smiled slowly. “Never was in, unless you count hotels. Spent a good portion at Wiscus’s.”

Hote— oh. Munkustrap flushed as the implication landed.

Wiscus’s had a reputation for a reason. With any luck, Alonzo was too busy getting in a huff to have paid much attention. The Maine Coon pushed off the street lamp and let his tail— a fluffy confection of black and gold— drag up Munkustrap’s leg. Munkustrap swallowed harshly.

“Maybe come find me there, if your kitten hasn’t worn you out,” the tom purred. “Anyway, that’s my ride. Enjoy your day and don’t lose the baby. It can be rough out here.”

“I am not—” Alonzo finally snarled.

Munkustrap turned to catch his best friend mid-leap. By the time he had Alonzo calmed, the tom had disappeared. Only his fading laughter and scent remained.

“Ugh, what a smug jerk,” Alonzo grumbled.

The silver tabby chuckled distractedly, shaking his head fondly. “You let him get to you.”

“You need better taste.”

Munkustrap took four legs again, rolling his eyes at Alonzo’s grumbling. “You need to stop letting yourself get riled up so easily.”

He nudged the patch tom with increasing force until Alonzo rolled onto the ground. It distracted him beautifully.

“Do you see how I’m treated?” Alonzo asked nobody.

Munkustrap rolled him onto his other side.

“I would like it known that I’m being abused by an abnormally small battle horse!”

“I’ll show you abnormally small,” Munkustrap play-growled.

He took a swipe that went very carefully wide and thus began the chase, which lasted all the way to the waffle place.

In case either of you might still be interested in these: @falasta, @namethat-i-oughttohavetoldyou

#cats the musical #cats the musical fanfiction #munkustrap #alonzo #the rum tum tugger #prologue i guess? #is there a flag for writers of fanfic nobody asked for with pairings nobody asked for? #i need that flag #please see the tuggerstrap club charter 3a.1 allows for at least one fic a quarter in which they are not related and may instead be shipped #nope i still have no idea what i'm doing send help #hal: it’s about cat(boy)s

[lornashore]

The Snowball

An Ellie x Female Reader.  You take Ellie out for a snow outing on a winter night where unexpected feelings are discovered.

I didn’t proof read this so sorry for any grammar or spelling mistakes. I hope you enjoy this cringfest and Merry Christmas!

My boot clad feet crunched in the snow as I shivered from the biting cold that winter evening. Ellie followed close behind me, arms crossed over her chest as she struggled to keep up. I turned to face her for a moment, giving her a chance to catch up. 

    “So, why exactly are we out here again?” Ellie asked, holding her hands up to her face to blow some air over them in an attempt to keep them warm. 

    “I just wanted to go for a walk with you, that’s all. When’s the last time just the two of us did something together?” She rolled her eyes at this, clearly not amused.

    “We see each other every day. Did we really need to come all this way just to hang out? It’s freezing out here!” I watched her for a moment, noticing the subtle trembling of her body in her thin flannel and jeans. 

    “Well, maybe if someone at least wore some gloves you wouldn’t feel so cold! And besides, we never get to hang out anymore. Not with how badly Erin has been trying to get your attention.” I teased, giggling when her cheeks flushed even more red. “It’s pretty obvious that she’s crazy over you. Painfully so in fact.”

“I know, it’s actually sort of annoying the way she’s always glued to me when she’s around. That’s why I spend so much time locked up in my place. She can’t bother me if I don't let her in.” I chuckled at her attempts to keep Erin at arm's length. It was cute how flustered Ellie would get whenever her admirer would find all of her hiding spots. 

“What, you don’t like her? I thought you two would make a great couple!” I said, placing both my hands over my heart as a large grin spread across my face. 

“Ha ha very funny. Can we hurry this up? It’s going to be dark soon.” She said, motioning to the sky above us that was covered completely by dark clouds. 

“Actually, this is the place I wanted to be!” I said as we came to a clearing in the trees. Without another thought, I reached down with my mitten covered hands and began to pack the snow together. Once I had a good sized snowball, I pushed it over the ground, watching as it started to collect more. 

“What on earth are you doing?” Ellie asked me. I glanced over my shoulder to see her still standing where I left her.

“I’m building a snowman? What does it look like I’m doing?” I countered, sarcasm dripping from my voice. 

“Why? We don’t really have time for this. We should head back before the sun sets.” She complained for what felt like the thousandth time that evening. I sighed, releasing a white puff of air that soon disappeared. 

“Because it’s fun and I want to build one. Now are you going to help me or just stand there and watch?” I asked, continuing in pushing the large mound forward. I was surprised at how heavy it got so quickly. 

“Fine.” Was all Ellie said before she stood beside me, helping to push the man's base until it was in the center of the clearing. 

“This is stupid, let’s just go. It’s dangerous to be out here after dark.” At that moment, I had made a decision, one that I wasn’t sure if I would be glad I made, or regret later. I turned my back away from Ellie long enough to form another snowball in my hands, patting it together until it formed a solid sphere. 

“Is that all you know how to do is complain?” I questioned, holding my hands behind my back to conceal my intentions. Ellie raised an eyebrow, watching each careful step I took towards her. 

“Of course not. I just don’t like being dragged out on a winter night to have what you consider fun.” She defended. “We spend enough time out here on patrol during the day as it is.” 

“Are you saying my ideas are stupid?” I quizzed, feigning hurt.

“No! That’s not what I meant at all. I mean..I guess I just...fuck.” She lowered her head, clearly uncomfortable, thinking I was offended. 

In one swift motion, I pushed the clump down the front of her shirt, laughing as she audibly gasped and shoved me away. 

“Ow! Fuck that hurts!” As quickly as she could she reached up her shirt, trying desperately to brush whatever snow she could off of her pale skin, though a lot of it had already melted. My sides began to hurt, unable to stop the loud cackles that left my lungs at Ellie's misfortune, even if it was because of me. 

Ellie glared at me for a moment, eyes wide as she charged at me without warning. I squealed, squeezing my eyes shut as both of our bodies plummeted onto the freezing ground beneath us. I coughed a few times from the sudden impact before opening my eyes to see Ellie kneeling over me, panting heavily as she glared down at me. 

“You know, sometimes you really get on my nerves.” She said between breaths of air. My eyes met hers and my face glowed red all the way to my ear tips from our closeness. For a moment, I couldn’t find words, still shocked by being tackled to the ground so suddenly. The wooded area around us grew silent. I eyed her lips that were now swollen and red from the nipping air, lingering there for a moment before my moved my gaze back up to her green eyes. 

Without missing a beat, Ellie leaned down, pressing her icy lips to mine. I slowly reached up, trailing my hand to wrap around the back of her head, pulling her slightly closer. Butterflies fluttered in my stomach the longer our mouths danced together, creating that warmth I realized I was beginning to miss. But all too soon she pulled away, leaving me a flustered mess beneath her, though I tried my best not to show it. A smirk crossed her freckled face, clearly amused in my attempt to hide my current state. 

“I’ve been wanting to do that for a while now.” She whispered, not showing any signs of moving yet. 

“I know you have.” I smirked, finally able to speak. “But can we go home now? I’m starting to freeze out here.”

“How about this for tonight. Let’s go back to  my place and we can cuddle, watch a movie and warm up with some hot cocoa. Does that sound good?” I nodded in reply, feeling my body begin to shiver from laying in the cold for too long. 

Finally, Ellie stood to her feet and helped me to mine. Without asking, I grabbed hold of her arm, pressing my body to hers to keep warm until we made it back to her home. We were silent the whole way, neither of us able to whip the goofy grins from our freezing cheeks, never once regretting my decision to force that snowball down Ellie's clothes.

#ellie #ellie x reader #ellie reader insert #ellie imagine #the last of us #The Last of Us 2 #the last of us imagine #the last of us game

[happinessisbeyondmylevel]

DOS: Caught in a Storm (Dragoness X Dragoness/Reader) {100k special)

Chapter summary: You are a snow furdrake living in the North Pole. It’s almost time for you to hibernate and so you must catch your last meal before winter. While travelling to the hunting grounds, you get caught in a blizzard with an arrogant ice dragon.

Requested on Wattpad

Pt. 1 of 100k special, Pt. 2 (Wings of Fire)

I trotted through the white landscape, cold air whipping at my white fur. Hibernation was right around the corner for me, and I needed to find some food. So I made the most of what sunlight the North Pole is getting at the moment and went hunting.

I lowered my head to the ground, sniffing for any trails. Nothing.

I looked up. Looming in the horizon was a dark open sea and several icebergs, but directly ahead of me was a snowy valley with a drop so deep I’d have to climb down the walls of ice. I walked over to the edge of the cliff and looked down.

The snow far below blended in with the snow beneath my claws, looking like I could walk right onto it without falling hundreds of metres.

But I knew otherwise.

I looked at my claw and flexed it, watching my sharp talons clink together. I nodded approvingly and bent over, my front claws gripping the ice. Shimming my legs closer to the edge, I gripped the ice. I edged my way down the wall, my claws gripping the ice easily; as every snow furdrake’s should. The problem was keeping my balance, so I didn’t fall forward and injure myself.

I had grown used to this climb to the icebergs; I did it at least twice a month when the fishing hole is frozen over. But it was still inconvenient.

Above me, I heard heavy wingbeats. I looked up. An ice dragon flew above me, gliding effortlessly over the valley while I climbed.

I followed them as they flew, a pang of jealousy running through me.

“Why couldn’t the Creators give us wings as well?” I muttered to myself as I continued my descent. Snow furdrakes have always been jealous of ice dragons because of this. The dragons never had to hibernate, they lived in groups—or clans as they called them, and they had the mighty wings so they could soar over these mighty valleys and swoop down into the ocean to catch prey we would spend hours hunting and wounding. And what really got under our fur was how easy it was for them to do it.

On the upside, at least we can swim well in water, we can hold our breaths for hours at a time, we can see in the dark and our paws are wide so we don’t sink into the snow, unlike certain dragons.

It was a long climb, but I eventually my head was right above the valley floor. I detached from the wall and stood on the snow. The wind had gotten stronger since I had been on top of the wall, and the sky had gotten darker.

“Great,” I spat. I huffed and ran to the other side of the valley. There was a small cave at the base of the cliff. Usually, other furdrakes are there, but today it was empty. I shivered as the strong wind carried snow into the frozen cave.

In the middle of the snow was a blue, enchanted flame that would never go out to keep any visitors warm and so the cave wouldn’t freeze over. There was a small cranny to the side with a small enchanted chest. Anytime a furdrake went hunting, they’d grab something extra to leave in the chest so others could eat if they were stranded here. And the chest was enchanted to keep the food as fresh as possible.

I settled down beside the fire, curling up and watching the flames flicker as the wind grew stronger. A blizzard was whipping up.

I dropped my ears and looked in frightened awe. “That better have passed by morning.” I knew I shouldn’t have left my last hunt of the season so close to hibernation. I thumped my tail against the snow in frustration before wrapping it close to me.

Then a yelp sounded.

I jolted up. “Hello!” I called. I scanned through the lashing snow. If another furdrake was stuck in this frozen valley and during a storm, I’d have to help them.

As if to answer my call, a dragon fell from the sky. She had snow-white scales, blue-green underbelly and wings, turquoise horns, blue-green-dipped tail and black-dipped spikes on her back. The dragoness rose to her feet and kept her wings close to herself, shaking the snow off her scales.

I edged towards her; she hadn’t noticed me yet. She crouched and opened her wings, about to take off.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” I warned from the mouth of the cave.

She glanced at me and stood up, walking closer. She looked at me, disgusted. “And what would you know, Furry Lizard?” she spat, looming over me; another thing I hated about ice dragons.

I ignored her insult. “I’ve seen enough of ice dragons get thrown around in a blizzard to know that you, miss, will not make it out without having a wing and your gorgeous spikes broken.”

She clenched her jaw and thought. She snorted, dusting my fur with frost. “Of course. I knew that, Furry Lizard.”

“My name’s, (Y/N),” I informed, shaking the frost from my snout.

“Neige,” she replied, sitting by the fire.

I shuffled over to my spot and sat neatly, watching my talons reflect the fire. “Were you flying to or from the sea, Neige?”

Neige made a snobby noise and sat down. “To the sea, to catch a nice, fat walrus.” she tended to her scales, shining them up after her crash-landing.

“So am I. I might catch a seal or two and some fish. Then I’ll be going home to hibernate,” I said, watching as her scales gleamed and glow in the fire.

She hummed. She wasn’t listening.

“So, where do you live?”

“West,” she replied, pausing from her bath, “in the mountain by the fishing hole.”

I didn’t live far from there, in the side of another mountain near the fishing hole, but I was sure she lived right beside it. “Guess we’re neighbours then,” I said flatly, lying down. I thought back to all the times I’d lost fish and seals to an ice dragon. I wondered if she was ever one of them.

“Small world, I guess. My sire’s the alpha of the clan. And I’m(i) his eldest dragonet.”

“Good for you,” I said sincerely. I curled my tail close to me. I could feel myself growing tired as the wind howled. “Well, goodnight, Neige.” I yawned and curled up,

*-*-*-*

I was oddly warm when I woke up and all was black. I slowly shifted, feeling something heavy on top of me.

I poked at it. It was thin but weighty.

I rolled onto my belly and crouched before jumping up, throwing whatever it was off me. Turquoise and white flashed as I jumped.

It was Neige’s wing!

“What is it?” she said, jolting up into a defensive crouch.

I sat on my hind legs. “Why were you around me?”

“I wasn’t!” Neige said defensively. “You—you must have moved close to me—Yes! You must have cuddled up to me because you were cold during the night.” She sat down and thumped her tail as if to add “and that’s final”.

I couldn’t help but smile. I looked at where I had woken you; exactly where I had fallen asleep the night before. “How would I have been cold? I’m covered in fur, I don’t feel the cold,” I sat neatly, my tail around my talons. “Besides, I haven’t moved all night.” I pointed to the indentation in the snow. “Unless you were cold and moved over beside me,” I smirked at her.

Neige scowled at me.

I shrugged. “But as neither of us remembers how this happened, I guess we’ll leave the talon pointing and get some food.” I looked out of the cave. The snow had stopped falling, but the wind was still whipping through the valley. I sighed and walked over to the chest.

Inside were several fish and cuts of seal meat.

“Are you hungry?” I asked Neige.

“I guess so,” she replied, edging towards me.

I picked up a fish and left the chest open for her. She took out a piece of seal meat and we sat by the fire.

It was a long day in the cave with Neige, watching the storm die down. She wasn’t very talkative, but when she talked, it was about herself, and her clan, and how great ice dragons were. I smiled and nodded, agreeing with her and making tiny inputs about snow furdrakes; it was best not to argue with her arrogance and pride.

We were stuck in the cave until the next day. It was still dark when I woke up, as I expected it to be with it being winter.

I unfurled myself and looked out at the still snow.

“Neige,” I hissed, getting up. “Neige, look!”

Neige groaned, her head under her wing. She was lying beside me again. For a species so ‘great’, they got cold easily.

“Neige!” I poked her shoulder. “The blizzard is over!”

She sighed and raised her head. She got to her feet. “Finally!” she breathed. “Well, it’s been nice, Furry Lizard, but I’ve gotta go.” She bound out of the cave and leapt into the sky.

I walked out of the cave, watching her leave. “Bye,” I said, but I was sure she wouldn’t hear. I sighed sadly; she was so pretty, and the company was nice. “Maybe I’ll see her again,” I mused. But I was lying to myself.

I looked at the wall of ice in front of me and climbed it. Climbing up was easier than climbing down, as less care is needed to hold my balance. It wasn’t long before I reached the top. And all that was ahead was flat, downhill terrain.

I sprinted ahead towards the dark sea and icebergs. I could see Neige’s silhouette flying ahead. Far ahead.

Eventually, I reached the edge of the icy and I was looking down at my darkened reflection. I stood there panting after my long run. When I was ready, I crouched, drew in a long draught of air and—.

“Damnit!” a dragoness roared.

I looked to where the roar came from. It was Neige. she was wet and clinging to the side of an iceberg. She spat a chunk of ice at the water and leaped off the iceberg and into the sky.

I sighed. She would catch nothing that way. I wanted to help her, but she was too mad and impatient to even listen to me. So I crouched again, took a deep breath and hopped into the water. Everything was quiet as the water surrounded me and my night vision kicked in.

It wasn’t long until I was swimming after two seals. Neige interrupted me twice, but in the end, I succeeded and dragged them both onto an iceberg.

I sat proudly by my catch, eyeing Neige as she continued to dive into the water to catch something. Each time she was unsuccessful.

I concluded that was too busy to notice me and so I dived back into the water. I caught two eelpouts and three Arctic cods.

When I came back to my iceberg, I saw Neige sitting on the edge of the iceberg. I hopped up onto the ice and dropped my fish by my seals. I growled at her. “Don’t even think about it,” I warned, standing above my meal. I needed this so I could sleep all winter long.

Neige stood up. “I’m not here for your food. But I need to bring back something. So... can you help me?” She looked at her claws, ashamed. “Please.”

This was the nicest I had ever seen her. “What exactly do you want me to find? I haven’t seen any walrus’ today.”

“Anything. Something big. A seal or a...” Neige looked to my catch, “that yellow and brown one. The big fish.”

“Eelpout,” I informed. I looked off into the distance, towards my home. I could see another storm gathering. “OK. but if you eat any of my catch—,” my stomach growled, finishing my sentence.

“I won’t, I promise.” She bowed.

I nodded and drew in another breath before diving back into the water. I tracked down a seal and eelpout, but I could only get the fish. I dragged it back to the iceberg, dropped it by her claws.

“Wow, that was quick,” Neige said with a hint of amazement. “Thank you.”

I sat down and picked up a fish. “You’re welcome.”

“Will you give me some pointers?”

*-*-*-*

I tore at my last seal as I lay on my cave floor. I had dragged most of my catch home, so it’d be easier to fall asleep after. The cods I had left in the ice cave in the valley and carried the seals in my mouth and the fish in my claw.

But now I was quite comfortable, tearing away at my feast before my long, long sleep.

And then there was Neige. She was much too pretty to forget about. I knew she’d be OK after I taught her some techniques to catch food, but she still plagued my mind. In a good way.

I missed her broody, arrogant voice, her sparkling scales and the warmth of her wings.

the wind howled outside, and a yell echoed into my cave.

I licked my bloody lips and stood up, my talons clinking against the ice floor. I peered out; the wind yanking my head off to one direction. Below me I saw blue-green flash between a mass of snow.

“Up here!” I yelled. I crouched and ran down to the dragon—only ice dragons had colourful hides. “Over here!” I shouted as I got closer, at the base of the mountain.

They looked to me, their dark horns facing me.

“Get low! and follow my voice!”

I saw their horns and wings lower, and I guided them up to my cave.

“Thank you,” she panted, sitting by the mouth of my cave.

“Neige?” I asked, looking back at her.

“Hey, (Y/N),” Neige breathed. she looked at my cave. “Nice home you’ve got. Humble.”

“You remember my name!” I beamed.

“Yes, I did,” she chuckled.

I looked over to what I left of the seal. “Do you want some?”

“Please,” Neige breathed.

I sat back and let her eat, watching the blizzard pick up outside. It made me dizzy seeing it fall at such a rate.

I walked over to my bed of bison and polar bear fur and curled up.

“You’re falling asleep now?” Neige asked, sounding mystified.

“Uh-huh,” I yawned. “I’ve had my feast, so it’s time to sleep.” I licked off my fur, making sure it was clean. I yawned again.

“But,”—she looked out at the storm—“what am I supposed to do?”

I shrugged. “Leave when the blizzard passes, I guess.” My eyelids were getting heavy. “Neige?”

“Yeah, (Y/N)?”

“Will you visit me after winter?”

“Can I visit you while you hibernate?”

I smiled. “I won’t be much company. But sure, if you want.”

Neige came over to me as I closed my eyes. “Sleep well, (Y/N).” She nuzzled me.

I moaned softly and fell sound asleep.

*-*-*-*

I felt warm and hungry, and my cave was quiet.

Until I heard breathing.

I opened my eyes slowly, spring sunlight pouring into my cave. Water dripped around the cave as the winter ice and frost melted.

I lifted my head, feeling something heavy on my back shift. Looking over my shoulder, I saw a blue-green-scaled wing and the glimmer of white scales. I looked beside me, seeing Neige’s snoozing body beside me. It was a surprise, but a nice one.

My stomach growled loudly, stirring Neige from her sleep.

I nuzzled her, cooing.

Neige opened her eyes and looked to me. “You’re awake!” she beamed. She looked away and dropped her excited tone. “I mean, it’s good to see you... awake, I mean.”

I smiled shyly. “Have you been staying in my cave, keeping me warm?” I asked flirtatiously.

Neige snorted. “No! I was just making sure no one bothered you while you slept,” she said assertively.

“And why would an ice dragon bother a sleeping snow furdrake?”

She looked down at me, thinking of a response.

I smiled cheekily. “But I’m glad you stayed.” I lifted my head as high as I could and kissed her cheek. “I like your company.”

#dragon one-shots #dragon one-shot #wlw #dragon x dragon #snow dragon #ice dragon #icewings #snow #arctic #dos #f/f #fxf #wxw #fluffy

[ladybell9095]

Hello there! 

This is an idea I came up with for Darksiders Week Day 1. This is also my first time doing this kind of thing, so I hope this is expectable for Day 1. This involves Strife and Fury going on a mission given to them by the Council. In no way are they being shipped together. This is basically how I interpret how a mission would go for them or at least this is one of the ways. Anyhow...

In the frozen barren tundra, we join our two riders. It was an odd pair, very rare pair as a matter of fact. There was no hate between these two. An overwhelming amount of annoyance, but no hate. Sent by The Council to destroy an artifact used by one of Lucifer’s generals, Strife and Fury prepare themselves for a long mission.

“Climbing the side of a mountain on horseback while during a snowstorm was a great idea brother! I can’t imagine how much time were saving!” Fury shouted sarcastically over her shoulder. Taking on the challenge that was this aggravating snowstorm wasn’t a problem. Putting Rampage through literal frozen Hell was a problem for the female rider. Besides her own voice she constantly heard Rampages heavy breathing. “Come on Rampage. We’ve been through worse. This storm won’t slow you down.” Rampage neighed in response to his rider’s encouragement. He took the storm head on and pushed through the thick blanket of snow.

“This is a way better plan than yours!” Strife yelled back as loud as he could through the icy wind. “Besides your just mad because all you decided to wear was that flimsy cloak!”

“I thought we were going to Hell! Not a desolate frozen wasteland of a realm!”

“I guess it’s just one of those cold days in Hell!” Strife laughed at his humor but was silenced by the red unamused glare casted at him. “Just a little further and we’ll reach the mountains peak! You want to borrow my scarf?!”

“Only if I get to strangle you with it.”, Fury growled.

Two hours had passed before the mountains peak was in sight. The snowy path the two horsemen trailed opened up to an everlasting night sky. There were the decrepit remains of a building lost to the realm’s icy wrath. Mayhem and Rampage were rewarded with a well-deserved rest and took shelter under an old wooden canopy. On foot Fury and Strife explored the mountain top for any unwanted attention.

When everything was cleared the two made their way to the old building. Upon entering Fury identified the structure as an abandon barrack. There were rusted blades and broken axes that laid in some weapon racks that were still intact. With what few racks remained Fury went in search for a weapon for her to use for fun while being on this undetailed mission. Strife went around checking for any signs of life that would call these barracks its home. Giving the building a thorough run through, the barracks were deemed to be the riders base of operations.

The horsemen took some time to rest themselves before traversing back down the mountain to start their job. Fury went outside and went to go check on Rampage. Time with Rampage was possibly the only way to wind down her anger. Rampage lifted his head to his approaching rider and stared at her with tired eyes. Fury apologized to her friend and fed him some apples that she keeps hidden in one of the saddle pouches. Mayhem had smelled the delicious treat and moved closer to the two. While Rampage at his treat Fury pulled out another apple and fed it to Mayhem. When the apples were gone Fury went back to her brother, leaving the horses with a fire to keep them warm.

Fury found her brother lying against a wooden chair with his feet resting on top of a questionable creaky wooden table. She took the stool on the other side of the table and waited for her brother to tell her exactly what it is that they were searching for. At the time she failed to give any attention during the Councils briefing after hearing the word armies. Fury waited and waited, wondering if her brother would ever say a word. Once she heard him give a quick snore, she flipped the table along with Strife.

“Is it me,” Strife spoke with a finger pointed in the air. “or do you hate sleeping? Because I was having the nicest dream.”

“You can sleep when we’ve done our job. Which I still have no idea about.”

“Didn’t you listen to anything the Council said? Oh, wait no you didn’t because someone always jumps the gun at the mentions of any sort of physical confrontation.”

“Shut up and explain already.”

Strife gave a sigh and sat upright. “We’re here to destroy an artifact, that’s it. Council said we’ll know it when we see it.”

“That’s all?”

“And kill a whole bunch of enemies on the way.”

“Perfect. When do we leave?”

“Right now.”

Strife was to lead them on this mission seeing how he was the one who bothered to listen to the pile of rocks. He looked down to the stronghold to try and get a good layout of the area. The stronghold covered a massive area which was walled off by tall stone walls. On the outside of these walls were small groups of enemies acting as guards. On the inside there were several stone iron structures. In the center was the tallest building with heavy security. There was no doubt to that being where the artifact was being held. With the need to know information the two left the horses behind and traversed down the mountain.

At the base of the mountain the two snuck around to find entry into the massive stronghold. Near the back was a hole left by invaders prior to them. Strife was thankful that Fury understood the means of an ambush unlike War who would charge in headfirst. On the way to the obvious holding place of their objective everything went smoothly. Luck seemed to be on their side, but that luck vanished the closer they got to the main building.

There were way more guards there than Strife saw earlier and there were probably twice as more inside. Both horsemen had to up their game now that they were deep inside enemy territory. Sneaking became more of a challenge now that they were closer. There were to many close calls of their location being found out. All they needed was to find a way inside, but there was no entry for them to sneak in undetected.

“Damn they have this placed locked up good.”, Strife whispered keeping his wits about him.

“Sneaking around like rats has been proven useless now. The only way in is through those doors.”

“We can’t go rushing in without us being surrounded by demons. We play it safe and find another way in.”

“The guards. Surely one of those idiots must know another way in.”

“Already looking for the sucker.” Strife navigated his eyes some more and spotted his target. “There. You see the one lounging about and stuffing his face with creator knows what? That’s our target.”

“Good let us go get him.”

“Whoa. Whoa. Whoa.” Strife stopped Fury with his arm, but she quickly swatted it away. “This is a delicate matter. Best to let me handle this.”

“Who other than you to handle the delicate work around here.”, Fury smiled to herself.

“Very funny. Alright once I grab him, you create a distraction. Got it?”

“And how can I do that without revealing my location?”

“You’ll figure something out.”

With no help from her brother Fury started looking around for anything to draw the enemy’s attention. She looked around and found some bottles carelessly lying about. She popped open the cork and smelled its contents. The bottles were filled with oil. Fury knew exactly what to do with them. She uncorked a few more bottles and placed them to the side of her.

While Fury was preparing for her part Strife was working on his. He moved through the shadows, unseen and ever silent. When the shadows were no longer an option, he took the high ground, taking out any guards that would cause him trouble. He was now above his target. Before he made another move, he used on of his sabers to signal Fury.

Fury saw a gleam of light and made her move. Without warning Fury chucked one of the bottles of oil to the campfire the demons ate around. The glass shattered and the oil in the bottle covered the ground. Again, Fury threw another bottle of oil, but this time she aimed it at the fire. The bottle exploded once the flames reached the oil. Soon the whole campsite was set a flame.

Strife taking the opportunity, jumped the demon, and beat him until he was unconscious. He slung the demon over his shoulder and headed for the exit. As a good added measure more bottles of oil were thrown and spread to the opposite side of the camp. Fury took a moment to admire her work and enjoy the panic shouts coming from the demons before heading to the exit herself.

Once Fury caught up with her brother, they went back to the old barracks to interrogate their captive. Finding some old but durable chains they chained up the demon tightly. They hung his bound arms over a support beam and proceeded to wake him.

“How is this demon still asleep?”

“Don’t know, but the guy is going to have one rude awakening.” Strife went to one of the torches that gave the room its light, grabbed it, and held it against the demon’s unconscious body. The demon registered its pain with an agonizing cry. “There we go.”

“Nicely done brother.”

The demon focused on the new voices and focused on the sound of his restraints. “Horsemen!”, the demon shouted.

“Demon.”, Strife spoke back. “Now that we know who we all are let’s get down to brass tacks.”

“You’re here for the artifact that powers one of Lord Lucifer’s weapons, aren’t you?”, the demon blurted.

“Good we don’t have to explain ourselves. Now you will tell us how to get into the building that holds this artifact!”, Fury threatened while holding the dimwitted demon by the collar.

“Of course you would ask about the secret tunnel hidden under the crates on the west side of the building.”

Fury let go of the demon and stood with her brother. “He’s not a very bright is he?”, Strife loudly whispered.

“Rather the demon is that stupid or we got unlucky with your pick.”

“Well now we know where a secret tunnel is, we don’t need this guy anymore.”

“Do your worst horseman!”

Fury cracked her knuckles. “With pleasure.”

“Hold up.” Fury stopped.

“You got to hit him now it is my turn.”, Fury complained with her fist held high.

“No one is hitting anyone. We’re letting him go.”

Fury turned with her tightly held fist towards her brother. “What?!”

“When does a horseman grant mercy?”, the demon asked.

“Yes, when do the horsemen grant mercy?”

“Hey, the guy told us what we needed to know and made this job a hundred times easier.” Strife took out his sabers and cut through the chains like butter. “Now go on, get out of here before tall mean and scary chops your head off.”

The demon was cautious as he made his way to the door. Both horsemen kept an eye on him and followed him out the door. They watched him walk to the snow-covered path.

“Strife what the hell has gotten into you?! Are you really going to let that creature live?!”

Strife quickly unholstered Mercy. Two bullets left Mercy’s chamber. The demon had collapsed dead on the snow with a bullet hole through the head and the chest and blood surrounding the fresh corpse. “Nope.”

Fury punched her brother. “Always having to have the last killing with you.”

“This is probably the only demon I’ll get to kill with you around. Had to get some action in.”

“You’re an idiot.”

“Well it’s this idiot who chose the right idiot to tell us some information.”

“False information.”

“It may have been false, but now we know our only way in is through the front doors.”

“And you’re sure this is the correct course of action?”

“This is me we’re talking about. When has your brother ever been wrong?” Fury was about to comment on the question. “Don’t answer that. I’m willing to bet all my gold that there is a trap waiting for us.”

“Trap or not there will finally be some excitement to this mission. We leave when the stronghold isn’t on fire anymore. It may be a while. There were a lot of bottles of oil.”

Having no day or night cycle gave the two a hard time of wondering how much time has passed. While waiting for the distraction to calm down the two kept watch on the stronghold. As useless as demons seemed to be their flailing about finally put out Fury’s fires. Now was the time to move out again and to do what they came here for.

As to be expected there was added security at the hole where the two first made their entry. At this point the two were all out of patience and ran headfirst into the horde. Alarms and various roars rang from the sound of battle. Instinctively the two stuck together and rained hell on their oncoming enemies. In the midst of battle Fury and Strife make a moment of eye contact. Fury was reminded of the times back during her time as a Nephilim. She was pretty sure Strife was too by how familiar his fighting style was becoming. His sabers even made more of an appearance.

Strife shouted, “31!” Fury was confused by the number but caught on when Strife shouted, “40!”

“Are you challenging me?!”

“Not much of a challenge with the points I got! Oh!” A demon fell dead at Strife’s feet. “Make that 41!”

“Better bring your all brother because I started counting once we arrived! I’m up to 54!”

“Only 54?! Your slacking Fury!”

“Taunt all you want, but I will prevail!”

The fighting continued as waves of enemies kept coming. If they stay here playing this competition any longer, they would not succeed in their mission.  When there was some breathing room the two entered the building. Once the doors slammed shut behind them more demons came at them once more.

“As much as I loved to kill all these creatures, we need to find that artifact!”

“No doubt reinforcements will be coming through that door. You go and destroy the artifact. I’ve got your back.”

“Right.”

“And Fury!” Fury slain another poor soul before turning to her brother. “Be careful!”

“When am I not?!”, Fury jested before heading deeper into the building.

She explored every room and found only more to add to her score. When she came across a grand giant door, she kicked it open. On the other side she was immediately greeted by annoying demons. Her whip sliced through the chest of her last foe and fell with its innards lying on the floor. Stepping over the corpse Fury found the artifact, but before she could reach it a giant axe stood in her way.

She dodged the swing of the brute wielding axe demon and readied Scorn. The demon towered above her and bathed Fury in his foul breath. He wore more armor than the rest and brandish the seal of his master in his leathery skin. “You and your brother have caused quite a bit of damage in my stronghold.”

“If it weren’t for my brother this place would’ve been reduced to a pile of ash.”

The demon roared with anger. “My defenses are not easy to take down.”

Fury laughed. “I didn’t see any defenses when we first infiltrated or when I set fire to your pitiful camp.”

The sharpened axe came hurdling towards Fury once again. Fury evaded the slow attack and readied for her own. She whipped Scorn at the demon, but he had caught her attack with his axe. “How fitting it is to give the weakest horseman the useless weapon.”

Fury snarled and tugged Scorn with all her might. The demon grasped the axe no more as it laid on the ground. Fury lunged at the demon and left a long-jagged gash across the demons left eye. “You will learn of my strength and you will learn how I can make any weapon lethal!”

Unlike his weapons strife was running out of juice. Reinforcements kept coming. If this kept going it would put the final nail in his coffin. He put his brain to work and looked around for anything to help out. The answer he found couldn’t have been more obvious. Strife took out some bombs and lines them above the doors entrance and the pillars that were next to it. He shot them setting off a chain reaction that covered the only entrance with rubble.

Time was finally on his side and he used it to go search for the artifact and Fury. To his luck he heard the echoes of a battle cry he knew all too well. As he got closer to the noise it started to lessen and then there was silence. Crazy angry at himself for worrying about his sister to death, Strife ran into the room and found that he worried for nothing. There stood Fury covered in blood, Scorn firmly in her hand, and the massive demon at her feet.

Strife came in with a low whistle. He looked to the demon’s eyes, with both being lashed into from the work of Fury’s whip. “Ouch. Went for the eyes I see.” Fury didn’t respond for she was catching her breath. “Where’s the artifact?”

Fury held out the shattered remains of a crystal. “Destroyed.”

“Well I’d say this was a job well done, but we still need to get out of here. Problem is that I may have blocked the only exit.”

“Then we shall make our own.”

“I’m with you there.” Strife reciprocated the same process with the front entrance and blew a hold in the side of the building. Unfortunately for the horseman, with more noise came more attention. “This is getting ridiculous. How many demons can there be in hell for us to kill? Must’ve gone through half of Hell by now.”

“As much as I would like to continue our competition, I suggest we retreat.”

“Getting tired already sis?”

“After beating that giant oaf, I wouldn’t mind a break. Plus, it will save you the humiliation of me obviously winning the challenge.”

“Bullshit. Whats your score?” Several arrows falling towards the two silenced the horsemen before the reveal. They high tailed it through the strongholds front gates and summoned their horses. Strife gave them some cover fire as they got farther away from the stronghold. When they were far away enough Strife asked once more. “So, what was your score?”

“187.”

“Hate to break it to you sis, but I’ve won. I got 200.”

“That may be so, but I didn’t count the big one yet. With adding the large demon that puts me to about 207.”

“No. no. no. no. no. That’s against the rules.”

“I don’t remember any rules. I only remember a challenge. A challenge I rightly won.” Strife was left speechless and threw a fit while mumbling to himself. “Better luck next time brother.” Fury whipped the reins on Rampage and rode towards her next mission. 

#DarksiderWeek2020 #Darksiders #Strife #Fury #Day 1 #Hell #Nephilim #took about an hour of contemplating to post this or not #fear gets the best of me whenever i decide to post #but i did it #im also drained because of it #Horsemen #Rampage #Mayhem

[calamity-callie]

New Beginnings ~ Wiztober Day 1

Edited by @spiralcompendium

“So.” The single, stern word broke a heavy silence that had been present since their private airship left the port in Hamamitsu. “How was your first year at the Imperial City Dragon Academy?” Alia flinched. They had been hoping and praying that this question would never come but knew it was inevitable. ‘Why did it have to be this soon though?’ they cried internally, cursing themself for not already having a full speech prepared for this. “Well?” their mother snipped impatiently, interrupting Alia’s thought process. Under pressure to deliver positive results, they opened their mouth to reply and a flood of words poured out.

“Dragon Academy? Oh, it was great!!! The Imperial City is such a cool place, and I loved seeing the inside of the Imperial Palace - did you know it contains 75 bedrooms?! 75!!! Also -”

“Alia,” came the first interruption.

“Also it turns out I have a natural talent for gardening! See I joined the gardening club and I was the only first year in the history of the school to actually raise a maelstrom snap dragon to elder! A Maelstrom! Snap! Dragon! That’s senior level stuff!!! Oh oh also -”

“Alia…” their mother interrupted again, this time with slightly more insistence.

“- alsoalsoalso it turns out I’m real good at alchemy, too! So much so that a potions vendor in the city took me as an apprentice! My first job, and something I love too! Can you believe it?!?!? Also also oh oh also also also -”

“ALIA!” The third interruption came as a full on yell. They gasped, taken aback by the intensity. “You know exactly what I mean. I don’t care about your extracurricular activities, your clubs, or how many bedrooms the palace has. Your grades. Let me see them.”

“Well, I got one A, uhhhh...” Alia trailed off, panicking. Their off-the-cuff plan hadn’t turned out quite how they hoped. As they desperately tried to brainstorm ways to stall for more time though, their mother, growing ever more impatient, demanded yet again, “Show me your grades. Now.”

Defeated, a crestfallen Alia opened up their bag, pulled out an official looking envelope, and handed it off without a word. The seconds felt like hours as their mother peeled off the wax seal, opened the top flap, and pulled out the parchment inside. Her face morphed from concentration, to confusion, to rage. She opened her mouth as if to yell, but at the last second changed her mind. Putting the sheet back into the envelope, she simply said, “We will discuss this with your father when we get home.” Not a single word was uttered for the rest of the flight.

Some hours later, the two arrived at their home in Kembaalung. Their father initially greeted them with a smile and open arms, but their mother quickly trotted over to him and they began talking in hushed tones. After a moment their father turned with a grim face and said, “Alia. Go to your room. We will call you when we are ready to talk.” 

“Talk. Great. They want to Talk.” Alia laid on their bed, speaking their thoughts aloud, thankful for the magical soundproofing their parents tended to use during their private conversations. Looking over at the bookshelf on the opposite wall, they contemplated how things ever got to this point. The shelf was full of thick tomes on dragon magic: grimoires they could remember being forced to read and memorize for hours at a time, beginning as soon as they learned to read. They had every word of every thick volume on that shelf memorized, but not a single line made any sense. This collection of facts served them well enough to pass the entrance exam though, and they held out hope that maybe actual teaching would be the missing link; maybe seeing these incomprehensible concepts in action would be all it took to help them finally understand this strange breed of magic. Unfortunately as the school year wore on, they only found themself falling farther and farther behind, and though they aced every written test, they never managed to cast a single spell.

“I really just am a failure aren’t I,” they muttered, burying their face in a pillow. Their mind began to race with all sorts of possibilities. “I’m going to get lectured, I’m gonna be confined to the indoors for the whole season reading these awful books again and again, I’m gonna be kicked out, they’re never going to want to talk to me again, I’m a disappointment to the whole family…” Their thoughts were suddenly interrupted by a loud knock. Jolted out of their downward spiral, Alia slowly crawled out of bed and opened the door. Their parents, stiff and stern as ever, marched in as Alia sat back down on their bed. The silence was thick with tension when their father opened his mouth to speak.

“We are… disappointed in you, Alia. You failed every class.” The lecture began in a smooth yet stern tone, but Alia wasn’t fooled. The escalation was imminent. “I just… I just can’t believe you failed every class!” A thick lump began to form in their throat as his speech heated up. “You studied those books every day! You had everything memorized and aced the entrance exam! All of our hopes were riding ON YOU, ALIA!” As the lecture finally escalated to full on yelling, they felt tears begin to well up but tried their best to force them down as the lecture continued. “Have you forgotten that we are the oldest clan of warrior monks in all of Mooshu??? And now thanks to THIS-” he held up the parchment, displaying all seven failing marks, and the single passing grade “- OUR TRADITION IS OVER!! OVER!! DO YOU UNDERSTAND HOW MUCH YOU HAVE FAILED US??? WHERE DID WE GO WRONG!?!?!?!”

Alia stood up and burst into tears. “I don’t know what more you want from me okay??? I read your stupid books, I memorized your stupid facts, I did everything you wanted me to do, but you never even cared about what I WANT!” Her father prepared to yell in response, but before he could Alia shouted again, “I never wanted to be a STUPID FUCKING WARRIOR MONK ANYWAY! I HATE YOU!!! I HATE YOU!!!!!” With that, they stormed out of the house, leaving a deafening silence behind.

Dusk began to fall as Alia sat on a bench next to a frozen lake. Though it was the middle of summer, Kembaalung was always cold and snowy, and this night was no exception. They huddled in a blanket and began to sob uncontrollably. How had their life come to this? Through the frozen tears their mind began to wander into dark places again. “Where will I spend the night? Nobody here will take me in, they’re all monks… I don’t even have any friends… Does anyone even really care? I could just sit here on the bench and freeze…” 

Their thoughts were suddenly interrupted by a splash of green in their peripheral vision. They turned to look and, despite the freezing temperatures, a single young plant had sprouted out of the snow. Alia got up, walked over to it, then kneeled down, cupping their hands around the base. “You understand what it’s like, don’t you?” they muttered. With a pang of empathy, they cupped their hands closer and started softly singing. The snow around the plant began to melt as a single sunbeam materialized, piercing the night seemingly from nowhere. Alia sang louder and closed their eyes, truly becoming engulfed in their song, letting the melody flow through their entire body. As if channeling power from old Bartleby himself, the sprout grew, slowly at first but then quite rapidly. When the song came to an end, Alia, feeling calm and peaceful for the first time all day, opened their eyes. Before them was a now tall, proud sunflower towering in defiance over the whole cold landscape. They stared in awe for a short time, but were again snapped out of it upon hearing footsteps in the snow from behind.

“So it seems you do have a knack for gardening then.” The sharp voice instantly brought Alia back to reality. They turned their head and saw their mother standing there, arms folded. “I’ve come to collect you. Now, come.” Alia began to protest but realized that they didn’t have much choice. They grudgingly began following her back to the family home. 

The next morning, Alia trudged downstairs, awaiting the fallout of yesterday’s scene. As expected, both parents were seated and silently gestured for Alia to join them. As they sat down, their father began speaking. “Your mother told me of everything that happened at the lake last night. You channeled the Song of Creation, didn’t you?” Alia gasped, but before they could speak, their father continued. “We have decided you will enroll in Ravenwood, effective immediately. You are free to choose your own path from there.” Alia’s face lightened up for a moment as her father continued. “But there will be conditions. You may no longer associate yourself with our family. You no longer share our last name, you no longer share our lineage. You will be welcome here for short visits until you come of age, at which point you will be expected to find your own way. Do you accept this arrangement?”

 Alia sat, dumbstruck at what had just laid out before them. Leaving their home forever was a terrifying proposition, but after only a single minute of thought, they confidently said, “Yes. I accept.”

For the first time in their life, Alia saw shock on their parent’s faces. It was soon wiped off and replaced by the typical stony looks, but it was unmistakable. “V-very well,” their father stammered as the shock wore off. “We depart immediately. Your first day is tomorrow.”

------ One Week Later ------

Alia sat alone at a table in one of the many Wizard City student dining facilities, again deep in thought. “Was it even worth coming here?” they asked themself. “Classes are fine I guess, but I haven’t met any friends here, I don’t know anyone who lives here at all, my parents will probably never want to see me again… Oh, what have I gotten myself into this time… Maybe they’ll take me back if I ask -” 

“Mind if I sit here?”

The voice snapped them out of their spiral of thoughts as a girl who looked to be about the same age as them sat down. “First week’s rough, huh? I struggled to adjust at first too, but don’t worry, it’s gonna be great! Heyyyy, now that I think of it, I’ve seen you in some of my classes, haven’t I? You’re Alia, right?”

“Yeah, that’s me,” Alia responded somewhat hesitantly, holding out their hand to shake.

“My name’s Keira,” she said as she ignored the hand and went in for a full hug. “And I can already tell we’re gonna be best friends!”

#wiztober2020 #w101 #wizard101 #wizzy101 #wizzy fanfic #Alia is my smallest oc I love them #and Keira is my gf's oc!

[whispersafterdusk]

Lost in Time - ch 1

Winter had been very eager to shove fall out of the picture this year.

It had announced its presence with a torrential downpour that turned to sleet that had eventually given way to a heavy snow that had hammered Portia for a good five, six hours straight and brought with it a bitter cold that was a stark contrast to the chilly but tolerable temperature from only a few days prior.  

It wasn't often that Arlo lamented living on top of a steep hill but he certainly did now as he and the rest of the Civil Corps struggled to clear the pathway without taking a sliding tumble down said hill; after several hours of work they'd only managed to clear to the topmost landing of the sidewalk ramp and they were all soaked, tired, and bruised up from repeated slips and slides -- if this was a sign of what kind of winter they were going to have this year then it wasn't going to be a pleasant one, and they'd likely need more than the one old shovel and broom they'd pulled out of the closet to get through the season. ((Continued below cut))

Arlo himself was armed with that broom and shovel and was quickly tiring of moving the seven inches of snow that sat on top of the three inches of ice and had, within the last hour, stopped piling it neatly alongside the path they were clearing and instead was just happy to move it out of the way however he could.

Behind him, as he cleared away the top layer of snow, Sam and Remington worked together on the ice - Remington cracking and lifting, and Sam getting it out of the way.  Theirs was perhaps the harder job even if Arlo technically had more to move by volume, and after a while (after she chucked a double handful of ice chunks off to the side) Sam straightened from where she'd been bent over, rubbing at her lower back.  "Man, even with my gloves on I can't feel my fingers."

"This is weather only Papa Bear's suited for," Remington grumbled as he wedged the blunt end of the pickaxe under the edge of the next section of a freshly-revealed layer of ice.  They'd tried earlier to use the actual pick end of the pickaxe to try and shatter the ice but had, in the process, accidentally gouged the sidewalk a few times; the only way to prevent any further damage was to use the other end as a makeshift pry bar - it was harder and would take longer but was better than the alternative.

Remington grunted and threw his weight against the haft of the pickaxe and there was a crackling sound as the ice began to splinter and pull away from the stone beneath it.  As the sheet lifted Sam bent again to slide her hands under into the gap between ground and ice.   "--think Selene could rig something up to make this any easier?" she grunted as she lifted in tandem with Remington's prying.

"Think of it as strength training," Arlo replied. "We can't run today so this'll have to do."

"Let me rephrase that - think Selene could rig something to make this faster?" Sam went on, huffing a bit and stumbling as the ice came loose and she shoved it off to the side.  "It's going to take a couple days just to get this ramp cleared off at the rate we're going."

Remington rested the head of the pickaxe on the ground and leaned against the handle, panting.  "Let's switch gears and get the snow out of the way - maybe with some sunlight on it the ice'll melt enough to not be such a pain to pop loose."

"Sounds like a plan to me - give me that broom."

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

For the last three days, thankfully, the weather had been clear and sunny, if still frigid. Remington had been right regarding the sun and the ice -even with the arctic temperatures it had thinned out enough that they'd managed to clear down to the landing near Gale's house and also the ramp and stairs that connected with Central Plaza. There they'd linked up with Paulie and managed to get a narrow footpath carved out around the border of the plaza leading north to the research center and south to Martha's bakery within an afternoon of work.

There were, out of sheer necessity, already compacted paths along Main Street made by Portia's townsfolk and the few stranded tourists present; once they'd gotten walkways open to Martha's and the research center they'd started working on what had already been worn in by stomping boots around town. It was a bit easier to bust up the compacted pathways and if more willing hands joined them they'd have it done soon enough -- Arlo had estimated another four or five days at most to get it clear even if it was just the three of them the entire time (assuming it didn't snow again).  Knowing there was an end coming helped keep spirits high as they shoveled, slowly digging Portia out from under the worst storm anyone could recall in recent memory.

"At least the kids seem to be having a blast," Remington had chuckled as Toby and Polly went whizzing by on polished wooden sleds to thud into a pile of snow they'd left mounded at the base of the tree planter in the center of the plaza.  "Going to have to keep an eye on them, make sure if they go out into the countryside they don't go flying out on top of the river - don't need anyone falling through."

From off to their left they heard a sudden cry then, and turned in time to see Erwa lose his footing and fall backwards onto his rump; with the snow mostly cushioning his fall he at least didn't go sliding down the incline behind the two kids but the ice under the snow left him floundering right at Martha's doorstep, unable to get enough purchase to get his feet back under him.

"-speaking of someone falling," Sam grinned.  "Come on, let's go help him out."

Arlo turned his back to hide his smile - it felt impolite to laugh at Erwa rolling around in the snow - and kept shoveling, listening as Sam and Remington's footsteps crunched over toward the portly man.  The crunching eventually stopped, as did the sound of shoes scratching against ice, and for a brief moment there was the sound of a conversation that was slightly too far off to hear -- the sort of noise where you could recognize someone was talking but not actually make out the individual words.

"'ey, Arlo - have YOU seen Dawa yet today?"

Well, he definitely could hear that.  "Can't say I have.  Why?"  He jammed the tip of the shovel into the snow and turned toward the trio in the distance - Erwa was back on his feet and had his hands out to his sides for balance.

"Because I can't find him, is why," came Erwa's answer.  "He wasn't home when I popped in yesterday, and he's not home right now, and I didn't see any new footprints in the snow aside from mine so it doesn't look like I've just missed him each time.  It's not like him to NOT be at the tree farm - not for any length of time, anyway.  No one else has seen him either."

Arlo frowned - this was NOT the kind of weather anyone should be wandering around in.  "Right.  We'll look for him.  Did anyone see him recently?"

"Not since the day after that storm hit - Emily said she saw him busting ice off the gates to the farm but she's the only one since then."

"Guess we'll start at the farm then and work our way out from there. Let's get moving," Sam said.  She took a careful step around Erwa and began to pick her way up the path, trying to stick to the well-worn and frozen over footprints in the snow.  Erwa wobbled a bit in place and Remington steadied him with a hand on the shoulder and then Remington was off up the hill too.

Sticking to the path they'd made Arlo headed toward Paulie's store first and left the broom and shovel leaning against the counter, then he too began to carefully climb up the path and toward Peach Plaza.  He didn't see anyone else along the way (not that he blamed them - it was bitterly cold) and it didn't take long to meet up with Sam and Remington at the city gates and head out as a group toward the tree farm.

Erwa was right in that there didn't seem to be any new tracks up this way; Arlo could pick out a single set, shaped in such a way that it looked like everyone who'd walked it had all stuck to the same footprints. They too stayed within the tracks, walking in single file all the way up to the farm's gates and beyond, following the footprints up toward the house where the trail then split into five different ones with only one leading up the steps to the building and the others angled out in various directions all seeming to lead out into the groves.

Arlo eyed the tracks - they were all spaced out enough that he doubted any of them met up anywhere close.  "Everyone pick a trail and see where it leads.  We'll meet back here in a half hour and see what we've found."

Remington picked a trail that headed along the fence line, and Arlo watched the snow fall from the fencing as the man kept a hand on it to steady himself as he headed off. 'Hope his knee isn't bothering him too much,' he found himself thinking -- he tried not to let it slip his mind that Remington's knee wasn't in the best shape but the man went out of his way to hide when the joint was aching anyway.  He'd gotten on his case about hiding injuries or aches before but it always seemed to go in one ear and out the other.  'At least we don't lack for ice packs at the moment.'

Arlo shook himself from his thoughts; Sam appeared to have picked a trail that led out to the middle of the tree farm so Arlo chose one that was nearer to the house but angled to the west, and then seemed to veer to skirt along the northern border of the farm.  He knew Dawa liked to walk the property a lot -- he needed to, to be able to catch any issues or potential signs of disease in the trees early enough to do anything about it, so him walking about was a usual occurrence...it COULD be that Erwa had just missed him each time he'd visited, and with the weather being so cold no one was really going outside unless they had to so it was possible Dawa had been outside when no one else was around to see him. Both of those were equally as possible as the man being in trouble somewhere out here and Arlo preferred to hope for sheer poorly timed coincidence as he plodded along.  

The branches around him sagged and creaked under the weight of the ice, and the further he went the more trees he spotted that were wrapped in heavy rope and what looked like burlap, and in a few places he saw a couple of trees that looked to be slowly splitting in half; one of them he recognized as a tree that had been struck by lightning a few summers ago -- there were thick metal rods connecting the two halves of the tree, and steel cables up in the crown of the tree holding the two halves together.  The repair, as ghoulish as it looked, appeared to have actually saved the tree as, once he got up near it, he could see signs where the bark had grown over and bulged out near the bolts that held the rods in place.

Dawa's tracks led right up to this particular tree and went in a circle at its base so clearly the man was keeping a close eye on this one; Arlo edged around the tree and kept going, eying the trail ahead of him and noting how it stopped its meandering among the trees and, about fifty feet ahead of him, straightened out to...hmm.

To the northeast of here Arlo knew was a bridge that crossed the lake that separated the Somber Marsh from the northern shore of Portia's territory along that lake.  Unless he was mistaken it sort of looked like Dawa's path was going to lead him directly to that bridge -- the trail had definitely straightened out enough for that to be a viable destination unless it suddenly veered away far enough ahead that Arlo couldn't spot it from here.  

It certainly seemed to be case as he drew nearer to the abandoned Old World building that made up part of the northwestern border for the tree farm, and sure enough as soon as he'd walked the length of that building and gotten to the far side of it he could see the bridge in the distance, and Dawa's tracks bee-lined straight for it.

"Why would he go out  there..." he wondered aloud.  It didn't make sense to go out to the marsh - there wasn't anything out there except monsters and ruins (even the fishing out there was poor).  Dawa wasn't the sort to go anywhere near a ruin, he didn't fish, and so far as Arlo knew he'd never gone after monster-based resources on his own -- he wasn't even the sort to deal with monsters when they happened to invade his farm: he'd always enlisted someone else's help to shoo them away or exterminate them.

As he hurried along Arlo mentally cursed the weather as he didn't dare move at a pace faster than a brisk walk unless he wanted to take a tumble; it felt like it took an age to reach the bridge and even longer to carefully climb up the ice-coated wooden ramp and metal steps.  Up at the top he could see the tracks heading straight across the bridge; he followed them across and then began to follow a path that seemed to crisscross at random between crumbling rock wall sections, rusted old buildings, and even a couple of gigantic trees that had gaps between exposed roots.

It almost seemed like Dawa was searching for something...but what?  What could possibly be out here that he'd be looking for?  

The bridge he'd crossed led to one of two large islands in the marsh's lake -- this particular island was known for the two ruins on it: the Deepest Ruin and the Somber Marsh Abandoned Ruins.  Dawa's tracks at least didn't lead up to either of those (not that Arlo thought he'd have any reason to go inside either) but eventually the tracks ventured outside of the crumbling, circular stone walls that partially enclosed the ruins, and once those tracks weren't sheltered by the walls they quickly disappeared -- erased by the cutting wind out here that had blown most of the snow away and exposed the ice to the sun (in fact he could almost see dead grass in several spots where the ice had almost melted through).

So Dawa had come out here, searched around, and then headed out of the walls to... The only other places out beyond the walls was another ruined building and a crashed ship that doubled as a bridge to the far side of the marsh, but surely Dawa hadn't gone out THAT far, right?

Rather than trek out there Arlo instead turned to look at the walls -- they were tall enough that maybe they'd give him enough of a vantage point to see if it was even worth it to check the other side of the lake.  He fumbled a few times as he climbed (numb fingers - this cold weather was beginning to get on his nerves) and once he was at the top of the wall he saw an unmistakable black smudge on the far shore to the northeast.  It was just far enough away that between distance and the glare of the sun off the snow Arlo couldn't make out much more than a dark mark on the ground but whatever it was was pretty big.

He'd definitely need to head over there now, if only to see what that was.

It was too steep to climb down the outer side of the wall so he had to go back the way he'd come up and then take the long way around; the wooden foot bridge that spanned across the two halves of the crashed ship was thankfully still intact and was even mostly thawed out so he got across without issue, and then it was just a matter of getting over to whatever the big black smudge was.

The trees were thick on this side of the lake, both in number and in canopy cover, and the snow had the branches sagging low so it was difficult to see through them; the big black smudge remained a big black smudge until finally Arlo was almost on top of it, and there he noticed two things.

One: the big black smudge was a freshly opened sink hole.

And two: there were footprints in the mud that ringed the opening that led to a long skidmark suggesting someone had slid in.

The sinkhole wasn't perfectly circular and was about twenty feet across at its widest point, surrounded by upturned rocks and broken tree roots, and the wind whistled eerily over the gaping hole.  The earth around the sinkhole was sludgy and angled sharply downward toward the opening as well - he didn't dare get close enough to look into the sinkhole or else he'd risk falling in himself.

'I guess Dawa must have heard this thing opening up and came looking for what caused the noise, and fell in.'

"Dawa?" he yelled toward the opening.  His voice echoed back to him; there wasn't a response.  "Dawa?" he tried again, louder.  Again there was no answer aside from the howl of the wind in the hole.

...if the wrapped trees were any indication then Dawa had to have rope stored somewhere on the farm, and there were trees enough here to tie off to provide a handhold to get close enough to investigate.  

Arlo turned and began to hurry back the way he'd come -- by now Sam and Remington would probably be waiting for him anyway, and he'd need their help to get down into the hole.

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

"You sure about this?"

"Yeah.  You and Sam got me beat in the raw strength category, and if I do find Dawa down there he might need the help to haul him out.  I'm pretty sure I can get down there and back out without a problem but I can't promise about him - especially if we don't know how far down this thing goes."

Arlo nodded at Remington; he did have a point - they had no way of knowing if Dawa was in any shape to climb out of there.  "All right.   Sam and I will wait up here - tug on that rope four times if you need us to help pull you up."

"Give me that other coil, there -- no telling how deep this goes."

Sam handed over a spare coil of rope which Remington slung over his shoulder bandolier-style, then with a nod he grabbed hold of the other rope - the one carefully tied to a nearby tree - and began to carefully edge his way forward toward the sinkhole's edge; the mud here went up to his ankles and then midway up his shins before he got to where he could slip over the edge and begin to carefully rappel down into the darkness.

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

Once he was over the lip and down about fifteen feet the incessant howl of the wind across the sinkhole's opening ceased, and now all Remington could hear as he picked his way down was the crumbling of dirt and rock each time his boots touched the wall, and somewhere he could hear a trickle of dripping water -- probably melting snow, and the last thing this sinkhole needed was more moisture to cause a further collapse.

He estimated he was about thirty feet down when he wrapped his legs and one arm around the rope to hold himself in place long enough to use his other hand to click on the little headlamp they'd borrowed from Selene; around him the dark dirt seemed to swallow up the pale yellow light and as he looked down his heart jumped a bit as the lamp illuminated roots and vines that jutted out of the sinkhole's walls.

And the vines looked like they'd once been thick and had choked this entire area out but now there was a large gap through their center, and he could see the glimmer of sap leaking out of hundreds of split and broken ends of the plants as he steadily lowered himself toward them.

"Well, at least something slowed the fall," he mumbled as he went -- he'd be lying if he said he hadn't been silently panicking a little bit as the depth of this hole began to sink in (no pun intended) coupled with the fact that he hadn't seen Dawa or even signs of him until this point.  If the vines had slowed and cushioned the man's fall then there was a pretty good chance he'd survived the drop.

Remington kept at it with his steady rhythm as he rappelled, and then just above where the vines began his boots hit the wall with a muffled thump; again he held himself in place as he experimentally stomped a boot against the wall and again got the thump -- it almost sounded like metal.  He let himself drop a few feet more and then used a hand to dig and pry at the wall ahead of him; something bit into his finger and he yanked his hand back and (perhaps stupidly) stuck his fingers into his mouth but there in the light of his headlamp was a dull, reflective metal visible through the grime he'd scraped free.

This sinkhole must have opened into an underground ruins.

The way down became more difficult as now he had to pick his way through the vines that crisscrossed what he suspected was some sort of ancient elevator shaft as he was starting to see door-like shapes at through the gloom and vine cover regular intervals as he went.   Eventually he reached the end of the rope he'd been using to climb down and he wedged himself into a little gap in front of what he was now sure was a doorway, and tied off the rope's end to the coil he'd brought down with him.  When he was certain it was securely tied he let the coil drop and listened as it hit something not too far away beneath him -- apparently there WAS an intact bottom to this shaft, and it was a lot closer than he'd thought.

He went the distance of four more "floors" and then finally he was almost on top of a rusted out elevator...pod?  Car?  What did the Old World call these things?  It was the thing that carried people up and down the cables - whatever it was called didn't really matter at the moment, honestly.  

From here he could see the ragged hole in the top where Dawa must have either fallen or climbed through, and the metal around that hole was sagging under the weight of the rope coil he'd tossed down; without a doubt it would fully collapse under his weight, so Remington was careful to aim himself at that hole and slide down through it, pulling the coil of rope with him and finally getting his boots back on solid ground within the elevator...thingy.

The air down here was heavy and smelled of dirt and rot; Dawa had already forced the elevator doors open and beyond it was a hallway full of dust and moldering old carpet.  Remington could see footprints in the dust (really, the carpet had mostly rotted into dust itself) and began to follow them...not that he really needed them as there wasn't anywhere he could see to go except down the hallway, though there were doors to his left and right.  He did stop to try one of the doors and couldn't see a way to get it open -- they had no handles and were almost flush with the walls.

"Dawa?  You down here?" he called ahead of him.

There wasn't anything except his own echo so he kept going.  Ahead of him the hallway turned to the left, and the closer he came to the corner the more apparent a thudding, dragging noise was beginning to become, until finally--

"Dawa!"

There around the corner was Dawa -- he had his hand up shielding his eye's from the glare of Remington's headlamp, and was dotted with bruises and cuts that left dozens of bloody spots across his clothing.   "Never been happier to see someone in my life, I was running out of matches," came the man's reply.

"The feeling's mutual - had no idea what to expect to find down here," Remington laughed.  He reached up to slide the headlamp over to his temple so he could look at Dawa without blinding him.  "You in one shape, more or less?"

"I've been better - not worried about a few bruises but I'm ready to eat an entire cow by myself."

Remington nodded.  "I bet.  Come on, let's get you out of here."

"Yeah, about that... Don't know that I can climb out of here.  Not on my leg, anyway."

Dawa gestured toward his left leg and Remington brought the headlamp around again; the yellow of the lamp made the bruised and swollen ankle look ten times worse than it probably was, but even still it was the size of a small melon and looked rather painful.  "Ah.  Hmm.  Well, we've got Sam and Arlo up there ready to pull you out."

"Don't know if I'd trust that -- I mean, don't get me wrong, I trust THEM.  But at current I don't trust gravity, friction, or the structural integrity of a regular ol' rope.  Not even sure I could hold on the entire time to make it out of here either."

"How'd you end up down here anyway?"

Dawa huffed out an annoyed sound.  "It's dumb.  It's really dumb.   So, I heard a noise out here and went looking - you know how I've been keeping an eye out for Aadit, after that Knight scared him off.  So I hear this noise and I think to myself, maybe it's him, or maybe it's that damned Knight come back and is up to no good.  I wait out the storm then walk out here and it takes awhile to find anything weird - but eventually I find this hole, and when I went to look at it it became a bigger hole and I fell right in."

Remington blinked at him.  "Became a BIGGER hole?"

"Yeah, a bigger hole - it was barely bigger than I am when I spotted it.  I guess it'd started opening before all the snow and ice hit, and the storm must've formed a crust over the actual size of the hole because I definitely wasn't near the opening when it all broke loose under me and dumped me in."  He paused and looked around them.  "Who knew there was an old ruin out here completely underground?  Usually these things have some sort of above ground entrance.  Wouldn't have gotten near if I'd thought it'd lead to this."

"Yeah...wouldn't have expected something like this."  Remington rubbed at his chin, thinking -- if Dawa couldn't make it out on his own and didn't think the others could pull him out, then they'd need to find another way up.  "You know, on the way down here I saw a lot of elevator doors lining the shaft.  We're down pretty deep but maybe we can find a way to link up with a floor that's higher up and climb up out of that floor's door."

"Yeah...yeah, I like that idea.  I think I could do a shorter climb, no problem.  And I DID find another elevator back that way-" Dawa jerked a thumb over his shoulder.  "Couldn't get the door open though, and even if I could've I don't think there's any power going to it anymore."

Remington nodded and then dropped to a knee to swing his pack off his back; he rummaged through it and pulled out an old, battered water bottle.  "All right, here's the plan then: I'm going to climb back up and let Sam and Arlo know you're all right, and have one of them get Selene or Higgins so we can get this elevator back up and running."  He handed the bottle to Dawa, who began to chug from it noisily.  "-I'll also get them to bring you something to eat, too."

"You're a lifesaver, Remington.  In this case literally."

With a chuckle Remington pulled his pack back on and tightened the straps.  "S'what we do.  You need anything else in the meantime?"

"Don't think so.  It's actually not so bad down here if you get away from the shaft and around the corner."

"What's ahead of here?"

"There's this big room back there - it's got some old furniture in it, some tables and chairs and a counter.  Might've been some old cafeteria or something.  Been back there since it's warmer."

"All right, then.  I'll be back as soon as I can."

Remington heard a 'don't slip' behind him as he turned to head off; it was going to be a long climb back up.

#Lost in Time #lit #Lost in Time - ch 1 #Arlo #Sam #Remington #Erwa #Dawa #Builder #My Time at Portia

[mxndoscyarika]

Home (Mando x female!Reader)

Requested by @karnita-mexicana: “Since requests are open what would you think of a padame and anakin type of relationship with mando and the reader where the reader is the queen of a planet and they have a secret relationship going on and it’s super fluffy 🥺👉🏾👈🏾”

Author’s note: It’s finally done! Sorry this took so long, I wanted to make sure I did it justice. Enjoy!

Summary: After weeks of anxiety, you return home to find a new addition to your life.

Warnings: none

Like my writing? Here’s my masterlist.

The Razor Crest was silent as it approached the planet of Garamonde, a planet with lush green forests spattered with some of the most advanced cities in the system. As they entered the atmosphere, Mando picked up the child and placed him on his lap. “You ready to meet someone very special, ad’ika?”

Large dark eyes looked up at him curiously.

“You better behave once we get down there,” he teased. “Ok?”

The child smiled and let out a coo.

———————————————————————

“The mines will cease operation for the time being,” you declared, seated in your throne. “It’s no longer safe for the workers. Many jobs in the development sectors will open as we continue to develop more energy efficient devices; we’ll transfer them as appropriate.”

In front of you stood royal advisors, each carrying datapads with reports on various sectors. Although they were capable of handling everything with little input from their queen, you had made it a point during your time as ruler to remain as involved as possible.

The most recent problem seemed to be the state of Garamonde’s mines. The increased snow over the recent winter meant much more snowmelt once the weather warmed up. Mines set up near the base of the mountains were at risk of being covered by mudslides and collapsing.

“But our exports-”

“Will be fine,” you reassured. “We have much more to offer than metal, and we have a duty to protect and support all workers. This is not up for debate.”

“Yes, your majesty,” they all said in unison, bowing.

Standing up, you said, “Well I guess that settles things. You’re all dismissed.”

Your gown of purple and gold flowed behind you as you strode down the hall, guards trailing slowly as usual. You never quite understood why you needed protection in your own palace.

“Your majesty!” a voice called out. You turned around to see it was Javonor Talbri, one of the advisors who’d brought up an issue with taxation. “I have the reports you wanted on this datapad. Would you like me to give them to you now, or-”

“Leave those in my study,” you quipped, continuing to walk once he caught up. Just a few more feet, and you’d be free of all the formalities and gowns “I’ll go over them later.”

“O-of course, your majesty,” Talbri replied, gripping the tablet tightly.

“I’ll be sure to have a look soon,” you said absentmindedly, entering your chambers. Closing the door on him, you finished, “For now, I have other things to attend to.”

“Of course, your majesty! Forgive any pressure I may have put upon you. I simply just-”

Sighing, you pressed a button on the control pad by the door, which blocked any sound from entering your room. Talbri was dedicated and competent, but he never shut up.

The first thing that came off was the large pin holding together your hair and jeweled headpiece. Even after years of wearing heavy headpieces and hairstyles, you never quite got used to them. At least, not enough for them to be comfortable.

You then changed into some soft pants and a long-sleeved top, both made from stretchy but durable fabric. Stiff heeled shoes were exchanged for worn-in boots with quiet soles. Digging through your wardrobe, you found your favorite cloak, a remnant of a visit to Nevarro. Well, before all the commotion began. Thankfully, it had died down since then.

In less than half of an hour, you were standing by a blue lake. Trees surrounded you, towering high and providing shade for the warm day. Spots of light littered the forest floor, much like how the buildings in the kingdom glittered during sunset. It was peaceful, but something was missing.

You inhaled deeply and exhaled slowly, trying to calm the nagging in the back of your mind. Where was he? Did he make it out of Nevarro?

The snap of a twig behind you sends your reaching for your blaster, pointing it in the direction the sound came from. This forest wasn’t known for harboring dangerous creatures, but it was better to be safe than sorry.

“Hey hey hey don’t shoot, it’s me!” a modulated voice shouts. It’s Mando, and he’s got one hand flung out, the other occupied with a bundled up...blanket?

Letting your arm drop, you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding and placed your blaster back in its holster. You took him in, as if the mandalorian standing there could’ve been a figment of your imagination.

Fallen leaves and twigs crunched under your feet as you ran into the mandalorian’s arms, nestling your face against his neck. He still smelled like leather and the metal of the Razor Crest. The only difference was that he had new armor. Yes, finally, your Mando had come home. It was your Din. You pulled away. “I should shoot you for not sending a message to me for the past three months. Where have you been?”

“I’m sorry, I had some business to take care of,” he replied, holding you close. Well, as close as he could with the child on his other arm.

“You didn’t come home,” you murmured, placing a hand on the side of his helmet, where his cheek would be. “I was so worried. I flew all the way out here and waited for you. You never came.”

“I-I know,” he said, voice strained. “It’s a long story.” The bundle in his arms squirmed a little, drawing his attention back to it. “There’s someone I’d like you to meet, cyar’ika.”

You gasped softly as the child poked its head out of the blanket, big eyes looking around at everything. The sky, the trees, Din, and you. Your heart melted as it smiled up at you and reached out. Tucking yourself to his side, you asked, “Is this what kept you away for so long?”

He nodded. “It was one of my bounties. But it’s just a kid. I couldn’t live with myself if I turned it over and walked away. So I broke it out and we’ve been on the run since.”

You frowned. “But your creed...that means it’s...”

“It’s a foundling in my care,” he answered. “And according to the creed, I’m its father now.”

You laughed softly, stroking the child’s ear with a finger. “I never thought I’d see the day that the big bad Mandalorian settles down with a baby of his own.”

“Neither did I,” he replied softly. He looked down at you, taking in your smile and the child’s newfound fascination with your jewelry. “But here we are.”

There you were, indeed. You and Din had discussed having your own children before, but recent years left both of you stranded in your own ways. Transitioning into being a queen had drained you mentally and physically, and Din’s occupation didn’t leave much room for settling down.

“You could stay here,” y/‍n offered. “This place is pretty well hidden, and in all our years of coming here, no one has followed us.”

Din sighed and pressed his forehead against yours, keeping you close with a hand on the small of your back. Even through all the layers, you could feel his warmth against your spine.

“I wish I could,” he said, voice breaking. “But I can’t put you in danger by staying here longer than a few weeks at a time. Not until I know for sure that no one is after our ad’ika.”

Humming, you asked, “Our?”

“Yes. Unless you don’t want it? I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have just sprung it on you-“

“I’m just teasing, cyare,” you interrupted, pressing a kiss to the side of his helmet. You reached over and let the child grab onto your finger. Smiling, you continued, “I always knew you had a soft spot for foundlings. Remember when you gave me that idea to reform the foster care system?”

“Every child should have a home they can return to,” he rasped, looking down at the child in his arms. “Even if they’re not related by blood.”

“Well, this foundling is very lucky to have you.” Noting the setting sun, you added, “We should get inside, you must be tired.”

The cottage was small, but it was enough for both of you. No amount of luxury or extravagance could replace the intimacy of living with loved ones. Din immediately spotted the satchel of cooking ingredients sitting on the counter, no doubt containing everything needed to make tiingilar, a traditional mandalorian casserole dish. You knew what your riduur’s line of work entailed, and home-cooked meals were few and far between. So, you and Din had eventually formed your own tradition of cooking a meal together whenever he returned to Garamonde. The only difference was that, this time, you would be joined by the child.

You still couldn’t quite wrap your head around the thought of it; that is, the fact that your Din now had a child of his own. Did that mean you would be as its mother? Or would the lack of marriage vows mean you would simply be an outsider to his new clan?

Once the food was ready, you two would sit back to back, a way of dining together while respecting Din’s religion. Until you and he were officially wed, you were forbidden to see his face. Part of you was disappointed at that, because you didn’t know how long it would be until you and Din were married; if you would ever have the chance to at all. But above all else, you respected him, and understood the gravity of the exceptions he already made for you. Sitting back to back while eating? He didn’t have to do that; he’d had to take his meals in isolation pretty much every day. But for you, he risked having his face seen. All so you could savor each other’s presence for as long as possible.

As you ate, you could hear the child’s squeals of joy and Din’s soft chuckles coming from behind you. He would say something in mando’a and imitate the sound of a speeder before feeding the child yet another spoonful of tiingilar.

“Your mother is a great cook, isn’t she?” he mused, mostly to himself. You were glad he couldn’t see you, because you felt your cheeks burn hotter than the two suns.

When it came time for the child to sleep, you two gathered blankets and pillows to line a woven basket. “I’ll have a proper bed made for him once I return to the palace,” you said quietly, not wanting to disturb the drowsy baby. “But this will work for now. Cuun ade je morut’yc.”

Our child is safe.

“Cuun ade je morut’yc,” Din repeated, his heart swelling with affection when you claimed the child as yours.

After washing up and taking off his armor, he slid under the blankets, lying on his back. The sheets rustled as you followed him onto the bed shortly. Although you both couldn’t see, you easily fell into comfort. His presence was familiar and soothing as you practically melted under his touch. You could feel his entire body relax underneath you, weeks of tension leaving him.

“You should stay,” you said softly, head resting against his chest. He was so warm and gentle, a stark contrast from the beskar armor he donned. “It’s safe here. You and ad’ika would have my entire military’s protection.”

“Even if we didn’t have our ad’ika, you know I wouldn’t be able to,” Din said, his unmodulated voice sending shivers down your spine. “Your people wouldn’t approve.”

Lifting your head to face him, you asked, “Do you really think they won’t approve?”

You cradled his face in your hands, tracing the stubble lining his jaw. The curtains in the bedroom were drawn closed to block out any light, giving Din the safety of removing his helmet. Your thumb pressed lightly against his plush lips, feeling his warm breath against your fingertip. Kissing him between each word, you pondered, “Do you really think they’ll disrespect their queen’s choice? Disrespect their king and their child?”

Din groaned softly, his hands wandering south. One arm remained secured on your hip while the other pressed you against him, sliding under your shirt. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you? Me as your king, and ad’ika as our heir.”

#the mandalorian x reader #mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian #din djarin #din djarin x reader #pedro pascal #baby yoda #star wars #my writing

[zirkkun]

Something Lost

Something Lost (Undertale Fanfic - T-rating by AO3 standards)

+ sans & gender neutral reader/UT player (third person omniscient POV) 

+  3985 words, english

+ hurt/comfort, mostly a rant fic i made when i was feeling like crap the other day

+ takes place in the Underground right after the barrier is broken but before they go to the surface

+ “Toriel has been messaging the human who broke the barrier for a while, but begins to grow worried when they stop being marked as read. The human went on a walk, as their monster friends suggested, but hasn't been back for a very long time. Sans offers to go look for them.”

+ AO3 link

"Sans, I don't think my texts have been read for quite a long time... Do you think something happened to them?"

He shrugged, hands stuffed in his pockets as he glanced to the cell phone screen displayed before his eyes. "Couldn't tell ya. Should I go find them?"

The goat-like, motherly figure holding her cell phone grinned sheepishly, eyes speaking a guilty frown for bringing it up as she brushed her ear over her shoulder. "You don't have to if you don't want to, Sans, but if you feel it's necessary..."

"Don't sweat it, Tori, it won't take that long." He returned to her as genuine of a smile as he could muster. "They couldn't have gone too far, right? 'sides, even Snowdin is only like a 20 minute walk at best." The Underground wasn't all that large, relatively speaking. Of course, it being the only thing he'd experienced, it's not like he had much to compare it to.

Not yet, anyway. Sans didn't want to admit it, because he had this gut feeling he was getting overexcited for some reason, but the idea of seeing the Surface for the first time was leading him to feel happier than he had felt in a very long time. While he didn't want to pressure the human who made it possible for them by rushing them to leave... he couldn't wait to leave. So he didn't mind going to look for them to ease Tori's nerves. Did he have any idea as to where they were? Nope.

Sans started walking towards the wall, to Toriel's confusion, but in a Sans-like manner disappeared through a shortcut to Snowdin Town. Based on the amount of time that had passed since the human had left, this was the farthest they could have gone, Sans assumed.

The town was livelier than ever: people gathering their things, talking amongst themselves, some folks even taking in the snowy sights for the very last time. Sans didn't notice, but the grin on his face had become just a little more genuine, giddy with excitement. He fidgeted with the fabric of his sweatshirt pockets, hand still stuffed inside.

It was when he was beginning to walk towards his own house when he heard crying.

Reaching for the doorknob, he stopped in his tracks. The soft weeping was almost inaudible compared to the joy from the rest of townspeople. Sans let his hand fall back to his side as he jumped off the steps to his house, listening for the source of the sobbing. Light footsteps trailed all the way to the back of his house, leading to a person sitting right before the locked back door.

It was the human.

Their knees were pulled up to their chest, held up by crossed arms, with their face buried in it all in a failed attempt to cover their crying. They had tucked themself into the corner between the locked door and the back wall of the house, only just barely not in the snow covering most of the back walkway.

Sans hadn't expected to come across this. At worst, he had been expecting to find the human had just gotten lost for some reason or another. Amongst everyone's excitement, he didn't think he'd find them crying. He didn't know what to do. He knew he wasn't the best person for comfort, but at the same time, he didn't want to leave them here in this state either.

He knocked on the side of his house twice. "Knock, knock," he said.

The human jolted, crying stopping for a brief moment as they swung their head back up from their lap. Soaked, red eyes met Sans's eyelights, panic-stricken and worried. "Wh -- Sans, I didn't -- when did you --"

"C'mon now, the correct response is 'who's there?'" Sans teased.

The human sniffled, raising an eyebrow. "Who's there...?" they responded, puzzled by his response.

"Boo."

"Boo who?"

"Hey, no reason to be cryin' now, buddy." The human chuckled half-heartedly at the punchline as Sans sat down on the ground next to them. "What's eatin' at ya? I came to find you 'cause Tori was a little worried you hadn't messaged in a while," he explained. "Didn't expect to see you like this, though."

A heavy frown overwhelming their expression, the human didn't respond for quite a long time. Sans didn't pry, he merely waited. The silence allowed for the echo of the townsfolk's joyous chatter between them. It drilled into the human's ears, hurting them more with every happy phrase they heard. Tears started streaming down their face once again without their control. Through choppy breaths, they finally caved and explained.

"I don't want to go back."

Sans expected there to be a bit more explanation, but frankly, he wasn't sure he'd have been able to respond properly even if there was one. He didn't know what to say. The human spent all this time trying to get to the end of their journey, breaking the barrier and everything, but they didn't even want to go back home? He tried to make sense of it, but even with his "not wanting to do anything other than stay home and do what's normal for him" logic found this to be nothing but a backwards mindset.

"What makes you say that?" he replied instead.

"The Surface is horrible," the human responded immediately, hatred lacing their voice. "I don't want to live there anymore. It's just..." They sucked in a harsh breath, hastily wiping freezing tears from their eyes. "I can't do anything there. Everything I was ever told was a lie, and all that anyone ever tells me now is that I have to suck it up and adjust to the same life everyone else has. I thought I could do more than that. I thought I'd be able to enjoy life. But it seems my only option is to fall into the same trap everyone else has..." They took a deep breath, facing Sans without meeting his eyes, a false smile plastered across their cheeks. "Do you know why I jumped? Why I fell down here in the first place?" Their gaze was defeated. "I didn't want to continue. I had given up. But when I woke up, alive..." The human violently shook their head as they threw their head back into their lap, heaving a few more heavy sobs.

Sans was at a loss. He didn't know what to say or do. Should he say something comforting? Try and give them a hug? Were they even okay with hugs? He didn't know. He really wished anyone else besides him were here right now -- they deserved someone better than him to try and cheer up with. He stuffed his hands deeper into his pockets, watching the human crying before him and not doing anything at all. Just when he went to say something, they tipped up their head and spoke up again.

"I don't know if you remember, but when you guys were corrupted by Asriel's strength and just saying your worst thoughts... you kind of said a similar thing. 'Just give up. I did.'" Sans was taken aback at the remark -- he didn't remember saying that, and frankly, the thought of confessing such a thing to someone struck fear into his Soul. "But... The only thing keeping me going down here was you guys. The monsters. You've all been trapped down here for so long... You guys don't deserve that fate. You deserve to have the world. You've been nothing but kind to me, no matter what I've said, you're all just so kind to me, and I don't deserve it." Their voice cracked as they continued, sniffling a bit beforehand. "When Undyne said that you guys needed one more Soul to break the barrier, I knew what I had to do. I had to see Asgore. I wanted him to take my Soul and free you all... but he wouldn't do it. As I refused to attack, merely begging for him to take my life for the sake of you all... He wouldn't accept it. He refused my mercy and I had to attack him. I d-didn't want to, I just wanted to save you guys... But in doing so, now I'm still alive. I helped you guys, but I'm still here! And you're all still so nice to me!" The human broke down again.

It felt wrong to merely reply to such a rant with something so menial as "sorry," but Sans couldn't think of anything to say. He'd given up on a lot of things, sure, but the thought of giving up on your own life so much that you'd give it to someone else for their sake...? He'd never even considered it. Though, he supposed, he never had a reason to consider it. It's not like his sacrifice would be good for anything, anyway. He took a quiet breath, trying to fake confidence and assurance before even attempting to say anything. With his usual grin, he started, "What makes you think you have to die for things to get better for us? I think most of us woulda been pretty upset if we got to the Surface without you."

The human tipped up their head, brow furrowed with confusion. "What are you talking about? You guys barely know me."

"Yeah, and you barely know us, but were willing to sacrifice everything for our sake. What's the difference?"

Their gaze fell to the snowy ground. "B-but, that's different. Cause I mean, I don't have anything left... my only choices left in life remaining are things I never want to do. You guys didn't have any choices available other than what was down here... so I wanted to give you guys the chance to make more decisions."

"And who's to say that you have to go back to your old life now that you opened the way to the Surface?" Sans remarked. "You didn't have us before, but now ya do. And I'm sure everyone would love to keep ya around. That seems like a pretty different path from most humans, if I had to guess."

The human fell silent, almost as if they were trying to reason with their own sadness to make it make sense. Yes, they had a different path now that they made monster friends, but that doesn't mean they won't be forced into a nine-to-five job, right? That they'd still wake up every morning feeling like they just wanted to go back to sleep? That they'd still be too drained after every normal task to even so much as take a break for themself and their passions? The path will just continue, even with friends. It didn't matter. Their choices didn't matter. Everything just happens. They couldn't even die by their own decision.

The human jumped out of their skin when they felt a gentle touch on their shoulder. Sans retracted his hand immediately, arms raised in surrender. "Heh, sorry, just thought that might help? I'm not great at this sort of thing," he confessed. The human just shook their head, not really sure what to say in response. Why was he trying so hard to help? Why didn't he leave when he saw you like this? Why was everyone being so nice to someone they'd barely met?

"Why haven't you left yet?" they mumbled.

Sans blinked. He hadn't prepared for that question. Then again, he didn't come prepared for any of this. He let his hands fall back to his sides, offering the best smile he could muster, and said, "Why would I? I'm not just gonna leave ya here to cry by yourself."

"It's probably for the better. I'll get over it eventually. You guys don't deserve to waste your time on me. I shouldn't be anyone's concern." The human scrunched up into a tighter ball. "Eveyone else is ignoring me. You should too. Just go back and tell Toriel I'll be fine. I'll come back eventually."

"Hm, nah, don't think I will," Sans replied. "She'll just worry more if I do that."

"Then just go do something else."

"Still not gonna."

"Why?" the human hissed, snapping their head up to face him. Their eyes were red with both fury and fear at the same time, tears outlining both equally. "Go do something else! Don't just sit here and listen to me complain about my shitty life! You've got stuff to pack, right? Go do that! Don't waste your time on me."

He didn't know what to say, honestly, but he knew he shouldn't leave. Sans could only see himself in the human before him, wondering if this is how Papyrus felt every time he'd walked in on Sans breaking down. But the problem was that Sans isn't Papyrus: he's not good at being positive no matter what, he's not good at reassuring people even when he's sure hope is lost, he's not good at knowing exactly what to say. Well, if anything, he knew he could understand where the human was coming from. Empathy was a fair enough start as any, right?

"Hey, buddy. You don't need to keep isolating your feelings 'n' stuff like you're the only one who feels that way. 'cause I can tell you for sure that you're not," he started. "I don't like doin' a lot of normal stuff either. Working, cooking, it's all just not fun. I never cook, I just have someone else do it for me. And I always do the minimal at work, since it's so boring bein' by myself for so long, so I'm usually out doing anything but what I'm suppose to."

"That's not the same," the human snapped. "You're still able to do what you want without feeling drained. Everything I do makes me feel so tired, but if I don't catch myself back up to everyone else soon enough, I'll just fall flat. I'll be homeless, on the streets, unable to do anything for myself. I'll probably die anyway."

"C'mon, that's not true. You're not gonna die. You've got people here to back you up," Sans tried to reassure. "I know Tori was sayin' something earlier about you movin' in with her, and I'm sure she'd be more than willing to help you get back on your feet. Or, if that doesn't work out, you could crash with my bro and I. I'm sure Papyrus would be ecstatic at the idea."

"Why?" the human asked. "Why do you want to put up with me an inconvenience yourself?"

"I think it's called 'helping,' bud."

The human fell silent. They'd run out of reasoning to justify their sadness. "Well, don't do that either! Helping me just wastes your time!"

"I mean, it sure didn't. You broke the barrier, buddy. I don't think that woulda happened if none of us down here had helped you along the way."

Tears stumbled from the human's eyes. Their logic was lost. "No -- that's -- different! That's different!! It's not... it's not... ..." They sucked in a harsh breath. "Fuck! No! Stop! Just! Leave me alone! Go help yourself! I don't deserve it! I'll figure something out! Don't waste your time on me!"

Sans sat silently as he let the loud, harsh words slam into him. The human had gone past sadness and was now deeper into fear, panic painting their face. They sniffled with hiccuped breathing, clenching their grasp around their knees even tighter than before. They pushed themselves closer into the house's side, as if trying to get as far away from Sans as possible.

He... didn't know what to say anymore. Had he said something wrong? Done something to hurt them? Did the human just happen to hate him, so no matter what he said it was going to send them spiralling into this deeper hole of despair? But it's not like he could leave now. That seemed the absolute worst option. It's not like he had a gut instinct to listen to either -- without having a gut, it was kinda hard to do that. Ugh, even he knew that this wasn't the time for even internal jokes.

Sans got up from sitting next to the human and instead sat in front of them so he could face them more directly... ignoring the fact that their face was still buried in their knees. He took a quiet deep breath, and tried his very damnedest to sound sincere. "Hey," he whispered. "It's gonna be alright, ok? I don't know what you've been through before but... You don't have to do it alone anymore, got it? You've got us. We're here for ya now. Tori, Undyne, Pap, Alphys, me; we've got your back, ok? We want to help you. You helped us, haven't you? Seems fair enough to want to help you in return."

The human didn't respond at first. They just kept crying. Sans wasn't even entirely sure they heard him at first, until they lifted their head up and instead rested their chin on their knees. They didn't meet his gaze. "I don't understand..." they muttered.

"You don't really have to, I don't understand a lot of things either, bud."

Their lip quivered, trying to hold back another outburst. "I... I..."

"C'mon, everyone's waiting for you, y'know. We're all excited to go to the Surface with you." It was Sans's last offer. He'd run out of things to say. Maybe if he could bring them back to the group, they'd feel a bit better, surrounded by people who knew what to say much better than he did. He offered out his hand, with intention of helping them stand upright again. The human stared at it for a long while. For a brief second, they glanced up to Sans's eyes, the bright eyelights offering as much gentle reassurance as he could manage.

They let go of the grip on their knees, letting their legs fall, laying straight out to either side of them. They went to grab his hand, but hesitated. They weren't ready to face everyone yet, not in this state. They didn't want to face everyone while they were still crying. It was already bad enough that Sans had found them this way, but they were fairly sure he wouldn't just go mocking their tears around to everyone -- well, maybe he would, he did make a lot of jokes. They hesitated even more.

Sans didn't move or prod them. He just waited.

"I..." they muttered. "Sans, I... I can't go back yet. Not like this. I don't want to worry everyone else. Because... I've been crying..."

Sans dropped his hand. "That's ok. Then I'll wait here with you."

The human could feel their heart race with embarrassment, guilty over his decision to stay. "Y-you don't have to."

"Yeah, but I kinda want to. We could even go in my house if ya want, it is cold out here after all."

They violently shook their head. "No, it's fine."

"Ya sure?"

"Yes."

"Alrighty then," he finalized. Sans slid back to his spot next to the human, back leaning against the metal door behind him. "Then we'll stay here."

The human stared at the ground for a while and their arms resting on their lap. "I'm sorry you had to see me like this," they mumbled.

"Why sorry?" he asked.

"I - I dunno, like, because... I've been crying. You guys are so excited to go to the Surface, and here I am, bawling my eyes out over the fact that I don't want to go back. Am I really doing everything for you guys if I can't even be there for you at the moment of your dreams?"

"You're allowed to be afraid of stuff, y'know. Not everyone's got the same hopes and dreams, right? Isn't that why you're so scared to go back, because you don't wanna do the same stuff as everyone else, because it strays from your own desires?" Sans proclaimed. "That's alright though. People help other people. Or at least we try. Sometimes it doesn't really work out. But nobody good wants to see other people upset." He paused, turning his head to face them"Lemmie ask you a question," Sans continued. "What do you want to do?"

The human paused. "I... I don't know. But I can't keep doing the things the way I have been. It's killing me. I..." They sniffled again, trying to hold back more tears as they continued. "I don't want to die, Sans."

"Aw, geez, bud, I didn't mean for you to start cryin' again. Sorry, I shouldn't've said anything," Sans apologized. But the human merely shook their head in response, an oddly timed smile poking from the corners of their lips.

"It's fine," they grinned. "I'll be okay." They took some deep breaths, trying to catch up on what was lost and slow down their bawling so they wouldn't start crying for another twenty or so minutes.

Sans didn't know what to do. He was firmly ready to patiently wait there for the human to sit for as long as they needed, but he just felt the need to do something to help them. If he kept talking, he was worried that he'd make them cry again. He was used to being able to hug Papyrus when he was crying, but since the human jolted from so much as a pat on the shoulder, he was convinced that was out of the question. He supposed he could ask, but if they said no, then it'd just be really awkward, so maybe he'll just wait and see if they prompt for it instead. Even still, he wasn't sure what to do.

The human sat in complete silence, focusing on their breathing and remaining as calm as they could. They tried thinking about anything other than the worries on their mind: they stared at the snow on the ground, daydreaming about the snowmen they'd made during the winter back home as a kid. They listened to the cheerful chitchatter amongst the Snowdin townspeople as they were excited to leave for the Surface, remembering the times they packed up and moved from their hometown, ecstatic to go someplace new. They listened to the rustling pine trees, once again finding themself in the the forest of pines near their home. They felt tranquility for a moment, closing their eyes as they started to think again on anything other than their current fears and warnings.

Sans was merely staring off into the distance. His mind had sort of wandered elsewhere, wondering about what he'd eat later when they got to the Surface -- would human food taste any different? He'd heard it was supposed to be solid food rather than magic. He wondered if humans still used magic, even. But, despite his hungry thoughts, he couldn't shake off the internal excitement he had for finally seeing the one thing he'd been waiting to see his whole life: the night sky. Maybe it was cliché, as so many monsters shared the same dream of seeing the stars, but he couldn't help it. His own curiosity got the best of him. Written records of descriptions and old photographs of vague dots in blackness just weren't enough. But now, he'd get to see it. He'd finally get to see it.

He snapped awake from his thoughts as something fell onto his shoulder. He whipped his head to the left, seeing the human had fallen asleep at his side. Tension dropped immediately, and instead he merely chuckled. "Geez, buddy, you really wore yourself out today, haven't you?" He couldn't imagine living out the long day the human had today. They'd fallen down this morning, and by nightfall, they broke down the barrier. It didn't seem right to wake them up, despite the fact that he definitely should have. Instead, he just leaned his head against theirs, and started taking a nap of his own.

#undertale #undertale fanfic #undertale fanfiction #sans undertale #undertale sans #hurt/comfort #fanfic #fanfiction #rant fic #zircon writes #oneshot

[razorblade180]

Hey how about the Data farms couple going on their first date alone? Also how you holding up man?

{I’m alive so that’s something I guess😅}

[Jaune’s apartment]

Jaune:Oscar are you ready yet?

Oscar:*bathroom* NO!!!!

Jaune:I hate to rush you but your date is in like thirty minutes.

Oscar:I’m just making sure everything is perfect. I want this night to go well.

Jaune:You make it seem like this is your first date with Penny. The two of you hung out at the carnival and the lake where both of kissed more than once.

Oscar:I know but this is different; this time we’re actually alone and have no wingman to help.

Jaune:Ruby and I almost let you drown on accident. I can’t say we were helping you out a lot then.

Oscar:Maybe next time don’t abandon me to go make out with Ruby in the lake.

Jaune:You’re asking a lot out of me.

Oscar:*walks out in a tux* How do I look?

Jaune:*fixes tie* like a man trying to impress a girl that’s clearly into him. So just like most people.

Oscar:Cool, any advice for me? Final words of wisdom?

Jaune:Hmmm sometimes a girl will ask for help or bring something up they can actually handle. Just be a gentleman anyways.

Oscar:You mean how when Ruby says her purse is too heavy on her even though she carries a scythe?

Jaune:Exactly that, she just wants me to carry it for her and it’s fine. Most importantly, be yourself. Penny seems to like how much of a dork you are. *smiles*

Oscar:Who you calling a dork, you dork? *laughing*

[Ruby’s car]

Penny:*rocking back and forth*

Ruby:You seemed stressed.

Penny:I’m calm Hic! okay I’m a little nervous. Hic! I am losing my mind....*blushing*

Ruby:You’ll be fine. Just one question. Why are you going to a restaurant when you don’t eat?

Penny:I panicked asking him out. Anyways I’ll just eat the food and it’ll turn to surplus energy. Also if I’m going to have tastebuds then I want to use them.

Ruby:Wait, Atlas knows how to turn food itself into energy that’s good enough to power an Android?

Penny:........

Penny:I cannot confirm or deny the previous question.

Ruby:Were you trained to say that?

Penny:I cannot confirm or d-

Ruby:That answers my question. Anyways, I just want you to remember to have fun, don’t do anything crazy, and if you guys go on walk or something then say you’re cold.

Penny:If I get cold I just turn of my-

Ruby:Trust me Penny, just say you’re cold. *parks car* Best of luck!

Penny:What will you be doing now that we aren’t hanging out. *gets out*

Ruby:I think I can find something to do. *mumbles* like my boyfriend.

Penny:What?

Ruby:Nothing!🎶 *slowly driving away*

Our nervous android walks through the door to see many tables set in a beautifully designed restaurant that looks like something only the elite could afford. Well let candles are on every table and a chandelier shines nicely on the ceiling.

Penny:*takes a breath* (If you were made to fight a war, you can handle a date.) *sees Oscar*

Oscar:*patiently waiting at a table in his tux.*

Penny:(You can’t handle this)

Oscar:*swaying in the chair*

Ozpin:(Stop loo-)

Oscar:*jolts* (Oh my god you scared me!? I thought we agreed you’d go away for the night?)

Ozpin:(I wouldn’t have said anything if your heart wasn’t beating like a drum. Are you sure you don’t want me around)

Oscar:(Positive)

Ozpin:(Remember that time you were folding clothes and basically had a panic attack because Ruby’s bra somehow got mixed in with your clothes?)

Oscar:......(Just don’t speak unless I say something to you.)

Ozpin:(That’s fair. What if you space out though?)

Oscar:(I’m not gonna-)

Penny:Hey Oscar.

He turns to see his beautiful date in front of him, and beautiful was an understatement. Right now he was captivated by Penny wearing a long green dress with no shoulder straps. It shimmered slightly in the candle light and had a decent size slit on the right side. On her ears and around her neck were some sort of gem that matched her now curled hair perfectly. The girl was shyly twiddling her thumbs as her face was a little red.

Oscar:*flustered beyond belief*............

Ozpin:(*cough* )

Oscar:*snaps out of it* H...Hi! You look...wow.

Penny:Really? It’s not too much? I could take of the necklace or-

Oscar:No, you look....you’re perfect as you are.

Penny:Th...thank you. You...look very handsome in that. *blushing*

Oscar:Thanks *pulls seat out for her*

Penny:*snorts* hehehe

Oscar:What’s so funny?

Penny:Nothing really, it’s just a little weird for someone to do things like this for me. I’m not exactly delicate. *sitting down*

Oscar:I know, but this is a date and I was raised to do this sort of thing. *sits down* So, how have you been?

Penny:I’ve been fine. Spent time with Ruby earlier and she helped me get ready for tonight. Other than that it has been a tad boring though. For the pass few weeks I haven’t really left the base here. Doing a lot of test.

Oscar:Test?

Penny:Just some routine maintenance. Making sure I’m learning about the world efficiently as well as properly. Oh, also I got some upgrades I wanted that should’ve been obvious in hindsight.

Oscar:Please tell me it’s a floating device?

Penny:*giggles* Yes, I can float now. I told my father about the lake situation and we both agreed that a situation like that shouldn’t happen again. I was so tired of seeing the bottom of-

Her train of thought was cut off by Oscar’s look. A calm smile was worn on his face with soft eyes. She could tell he was listening intently but there was something about that look that started to make her a little shy. Everything about the situation even made her stomach feel fluttery. Was that even possible!?

Oscar:Something wrong?

Penny:Sorry, it’s just.....why are you looking at me like that? Not that I mind your smile since it’s really nice.

Oscar:Oh, well thank you. *smiles* I’m smiling because not so long ago you were afraid of tell me anything about yourself. Now you wanna full conversation about it. It’s nice.

Penny:Heh, you’re looking at me new in approved. Physically and emotionally.

Oscar:So, anything else you want to share? I’m all ears.

Penny:*grins* Okay! Umm...hold out your hands, palms up.

Oscar:*does it*

Penny:*holds them*Notice anything strange? Or should I say normal?

Oscar:...Umm, I’m bad at guessing games. All I feel is warm pal- hey your hands are warm, and also really soft.

Penny:Yep! Body heat, more sensors for feelings, and just about anything to feel more normal I suppose. It’s weird, last week I bummed into a soldier and it actually stung a bit. Pain wasn’t a feeling they wanted to give me but I think it’s an important part of-

Oscar:Feeling alive? *rubbing her hand*

Penny:Exactly, I know I’ll never truly be normal but I want to get as close as possible. I want us to feel as normal as possible...

Oscar:*red* Us?

Penny:Yeah, us.... *eyes widened* wait are not? *gasp* did I miss read these signs? Ruby told me about this thing called “subtext” and how to read it but I’m starting to think I might have been seeing it wrong. Which is really scary if- *rambling*

Oscar notices they’re drawing a bit of attention around and starts getting a bit anxious himself. He tries to calm her down but nothing seems to work.

Ozpin:(I know you’re not asking for help but might I offer a small tip?)

Oscar:(Uhhhh sure?)

Ozpin:(Let her know she’s not wrong.)

Oscar:(Geez I’m dumb.) Penny, look at me. *holds hands tighter*

Penny:*worried* Y..yes?

Oscar:I....I like being an us. You didn’t miss read anything. Spending time with you is really nice and this entire day felt super long because I wanted it to get to the part where I got to see you again. I want....I want to be your..... *flustered*

Penny:*eyes widened* Yes...

Oscar:*red* What?

Penny:*looking away*.............

Penny:Be my boyfriend, please?

Oscar:...So do you have better sensors everywhere?

Penny:What?

Oscar:You said you can feel . That would mean you could everywhere right?

Penny:Yeah, but what does that have to do with-

Once again her words were cut short. Instead of his eyes though; it was his hand rubbing her face. Penny knew her sensors where in full effect because the sensation was way more intense than the lake. Not only that but she was definitely feeling way warmer than usual. It was nice, so leaning into it felt more than natural.

Oscar:*pulling back* Feeling better?

Penny:Can you always do that if I ramble?

Oscar:*chuckling* Only if you do same for me.

Penny:Consider it done. *rubbing her arm* uh, could we possibly, you know. *leaning*

Oscar:As eager as I am?

Penny:No Hic! yes...*blushing*

Oscar:Good to know. *leaning*

“Ms. Polendina?”

Penny:Huh? *turns head*

Soldier:Sorry to have interrupted your night out but you are needed back at the base for a briefing. I was told to escort you.

Penny:Awwww but that was supposed to be tomorrow. I’m in the middle of a date, *sheepishly* with my boyfriend.

Oscar:*internal screaming*

Ozpin:(Please stop screaming)

Oscar:If it’s not too much to ask, maybe I could walk her home?

Soldier:I’m not sure if-

Penny:*puppy eyes* Pretty please Mr...*looks a tag* Mr. Tanaka sir!

Tanaka:......Sigh, please don’t dilly dally on the way ba- *hugged*

Penny:Thank you! I mean... *salutes* Yes sir!

Oscar:Shall we then?

Penny:We shall, too bad we didn’t even get to eat.

Oscar:I know right!? The service here sucks.

[City Streets]

The road to the base is relatively quiet. Snow gently falls to the ground while street lights make a trail of golden light. Both of then continued to enjoy each other’s company and walk casually. Cool air blows lightly, causing Penny to remember Ruby’s words. She slowly wrapped her arms around herself and started to rub them.

Oscar:You cold?

Penny:Uh...something like that. *supressing hiccup*

Oscar:*takes off blazer* Here you go.

Penny:Won’t you be cold though?

Oscar:I don’t mind a little cool air. Farm life had its frigid moments. *drapes it over her*

Penny:(This smells nice) That reminds me, I spent so much time talking about me that you didn’t talk much about yourself.

Oscar:Nothing much to tell really. Life’s been pretty average.

Penny:You have two souls.....

Oscar:Life’s been my standard of average. *smiles* Just the occasional internal monologue and grimm patrol.

Penny:Is he talking right now?

Oscar:Nah, we made an agreement for him not to intrude on our date.

Ozpin:(Tell her I said hi...)

Oscar:He says hello.

Penny:Hi Professor. I wish my body guards also didn’t intrude. I suppose you’ll have to tell me more about having two souls another time. Seeing magic would be quite the experience.

Oscar:Funny, I wasn’t thinking you’d actually call it that. I thought you would’ve gone a more scientific route.

Penny:Well I’d be lying if I said it didn’t sound illogical and completely goes against what society knows. However, I can’t deny that it might exist; there’s one shred of evidence that supports it.

Oscar:Really? What’s that?

Penny:It sounds a bit ridiculous but...how do I explain this? *stops walking*

Oscar:*stops*?

Penny:I know I’m not human when it comes to most things. Indeed I have an aura which people consider a soul but even so, I’m still not like everyone else by a wide margin. This is a fact and it’s a fact that I’m okay with; different doesn’t mean I’m inferior or superior. It makes me well, me. But ever since I met you things feel....different.

Oscar:Different?

Penny:*twiddling her thumbs* Like, everything that we do feels scary yet exciting. Things make sense but at the same time, not at all. My stomach starts to feel a little weird too. It’s not some glitch either; I’ve checked plenty of times. I know I’m an android but whenever I look at you......*blushing* it’s like I forget that. I become... just another girl. *looks down*

Oscar:Maybe you’re more human than you think.....

His hand makes it’s way to her chin and tilts her head up. Beautiful green eyes stare right at him with pure and varying emotions; each one he was certain he was feeling too. Fear, anxious, excitement, apprehension, courage, confusion, yet also clarity. The nerve he worked up at the restaurant had vanished and he found it a little challenging to get any closer than he already was. Penny didn’t move either for a moment. She was too fixated on his eyes again; Both her hands found their way to his sleeves however and was tugging Oscar closer painstakingly slow. Pushing down all their anxiety, they both go in for for a kiss. Time stopped mattering and so did the cold. Only thing they focused was each other; their simple kiss under a street light in the snow.

[The base, several minutes later]

Penny:*In uniform and walking though the halls*

Ciel:Oh, There you are Ma’am. You are several minutes behind schedule.

Penny:I’m sorry. Penny Polendina is here and reporting for duty. We’ll still make it before the meeting actually starts. You shouldn’t let that watch rule your life ya know.

Ciel:I suppose you might have a point to a degree. So, was your night out a pleasant one?

Penny:*blushing* Best night yet...

[Jaune’s apartment]

Oscar:*walking in* I’m back Ja-

Jaune:*watching a movie* Oh, you’re back earlier than I thought.

Ruby:*only in Jaune’s hoodie* Oh no, did something happen? Also hi!

Oscar:*avoiding eye contact* Hey Ruby. Penny got called into a meeting so the date was cut short.

Ruby:And after all that work I put in to make her look all cute for the night; not that she needed it. Was it nice while it lasted at least?

Oscar:Yeah.....really nice. *blushing*

#rwby #oscar pine #penny polendina #ciel soleil #ruby rose #jaune arc #rwby lancaster #rwby data farms #rwby ozpin

[blancheludis]

A/N: @iron-man-bingo, square: Only One Bed

Fandom: Marvel, Avengers Characters: Tony Stark, Steve Rogers Words: 3.525 Tags: 2012 Avengers, Miscommunication, Only One Bed, Nightmares, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff

Summary: On a secret mission for Fury, Tony and Steve get stranded in a small town during a snowstorm. There is a motel with a free room - only that it has just one bed. While Tony already has fantasies about cuddling with Captain America, Steve takes offense to the idea of sharing a bed with Tony. 

---

The stairs up to the second floor of the motel are steep enough to offer Tony a nice view of Steve’s backside as they trudge slowly upwards. They are both exhausted, but Tony feels his spirits rising at the sight. No one could say he is not a man easily entertained. It helps that Steve’s trousers are wet at strategically good places to set off his assets even better.

The snowstorm has not exactly hit unexpectedly but became much stronger than anticipated very quickly. Even that would not have been a problem had they been travelling with one of Tony’s cars. They would not have given out in the middle of nowhere like the shitty rental car Fury ordered them to take.

With no phone reception and no tools, they had no other choice but to make the slow trek back to the last village they passed while the sun was rapidly going down. There is a motel, at least, run-down and nothing Tony would have ever set foot in under better circumstances. Now, he is glad they do not have to hope for some random person’s sense of charity or sleep outside.  

The next time Fury asks Tony to go on a reconnaissance and stealth mission, he is not just going to laugh into their not-quite-boss’ one-eyed-face, but run as fast as he can. This has been an utter disaster from the very beginning.

He is Tony Stark, he does not do stealth, even when he is not flying around in a red-and-gold metal suit. At the very most, he pays other people to be subtle, and he usually does not even bother with that. It is often a good intimidation tactic to let people know he is coming, both in business and his superhero hobby.

Yet, here he is, sent by Fury to scope out some facility in the middle of nowhere with Steve at his side, ordered unmistakeably to no attract attention. SHIELD suspects a HYDRA base out here and the bastards are slippery enough to run at the first sign of trouble.

Quietly, Tony thinks that if they are stupid enough to not recognize Captain America, even in flannel shirts, a winter parka, and a woollen hat, and Tony Stark, seriously, his face is everywhere, they do not deserve the title of the bad guys at all. Not that Tony is particularly interested in being found out. This was supposed to be a quick in-and-out-again mission.

Then the storm hit. And the car broke down. And now they have to sleep in a mouldy motel in a random village instead of the four-star hotel he reserved rooms for at their destination and had thoroughly checked by some of his employees for its suitability.

Now that he thinks about it, the sight of Steve’s ass makes up for a lot but not nearly enough to dissipate his increasingly bad mood.

When they reach the top of the stairs, Steve turns down the dim hallway, leaving a trail of muddied snow behind. That, Tony thinks, is the clearest indicator that Steve is tired too. Normally, he would have insisted on taking off the shoes at the door downstairs to not make more work for the cleaning staff. This night, he might have still smiled and thanked the clerk for letting them in this late, but has then turned around abruptly, key clutched in his hand.

Their room is at the very end of the hall, and Tony is careful not to audibly sigh when they reach it. They have been driving for hours on end and then walked for another one. He is ready to fall into bed and never think about snow again.

Only that, when he wants to follow Steve into the room, he runs into a solid wall of tense muscles and a certain vibranium shield hidden in a backpack.

“What the –” Tony mutters before he realizes that Steve has stopped walking, right inside the door.

More as an experiment, Tony pushes lightly. His shoulder is smarting from where he hit it against the shield – although he guesses he should be glad it was not his nose.

“This is not happening,” Steve says, clipped and one wrong word away from snapping.

The dire tone has Tony expecting the worst, giant cockroaches or fungi-covered walls. When he nudges Steve to the side to enter the small room himself, he finds a dump – dark and narrow and slightly musty smelling – but not nearly as bad a dump as he has been expecting.

Sure, the wallpaper is a garish brown and white mix with something like swirling flowers on it, and the upholstery of the lone armchair looks like they might get some nasty disease just from stepping too close to it. At the first glance, it is clean, though, and they will not spend much time here anyway. They have to get going again early in the morning.

He glimpses up at Steve, registers the way he clenches his jaw and glares as if the intensity of his stare alone can change the room in front of them.

“It’s not that bad,” Tony offers. Distantly, he wonders how he has just now ended up being the voice of common sense. He feels like he should be the one complaining. This room is smaller than his very first dorm, smaller than his walk-in closet at home.

Steve turns to look at him, his glare getting harder. “There’s only one bed.”

That is true, but it is a fairly large bed. Even considering Steve’s size, they will have no problems fitting in it once they get rid of the horrible frilly pillows. It might get a bit cramped, but Tony can live with that. Whoever would say no to cuddling with Captain America?

“So?” Tony asks, drawing out the word as he tries to make sense of Steve’s sudden snobbishness. Surely, Steve has shared his sleeping space before, at the very least during his time in the army.

“You’re a millionaire,” Steve replies shortly, poking a finger at Tony’s chest, “which you never let us forget, so fix this.”

Still not quite catching up with what Steve is trying to tell him, Tony absentmindedly corrects, “Billionaire.”

Steve huffs. “Even better.” Turning back to the room, he makes a complicated gesture. “Do something.”

Tony is not sure what he is supposed to do. They are stuck here for the night and this is the only motel for miles around. Even with his billions in the bank, Tony has not much money on him – and no idea what he is supposed to do with it. Pay some poor family to let them into their house? Two strangers, both of which have an attitude and attract problems? He does not think so.

“It’s just for one night,” Tony says and makes a show of going farther into the room. There is not exactly much place to get away from Steve, but he steps up to the desk and lets his bag slide from his shoulder. Thanks to the Iron Man suitcase he has taken with him for emergencies, it is rather heavy.

Steve’s glare does not lessen a bit. “And I’m not going to spend it with you in one bed.”

With a start, Tony realizes what Steve’s problem is. It is not the room, not the smallness of the bed, but the fact that he has to share the place with Tony. He almost laughs at himself when he feels the sharp stabbing pain in his chest. This is nothing new. In some way or other, Tony is always the problem.

All geniality drains out of Tony’s demeanour. He, too, is tired and wants this stupid mission to be over.

“You’re very welcome to go back out into the fucking snow storm and find somewhere else,” Tony snaps, searching Steve’s face for some regret for what he said. When he does not find any, his voice becomes sharper, poised to cut. “Perhaps you can build yourself an igloo and cuddle with some hobo for warmth. I’m sure that’ll be better than having to suffer my presence for a whole night.”

He whirls around abruptly, not wanting to look at Steve for a moment longer. With shaking fingers, which he blames on the lingering coldness, he rips his bag open, searching for something dry to wear.

“It’s not that –” Steve says in his back, but Tony has heard enough.

“Stop lying, Rogers,” Tony sneers, “it doesn’t become you.”

Silence falls but Tony does not take any satisfaction from it. He has not wanted to argue with Steve. Things have been so good between them lately. Getting some alone time with Steve was actually one of the reasons he agreed to Fury’s mad scheme at all. A couple days on the road without any battle or training plans they need to argue over sounded nice. Right up until now. He did not think their truce would be broken over such a stupid thing.

A quiet sigh of moving air is the only warning Tony has before Steve appears at his side.

“It’s just that we have to be fit tomorrow and that won’t happen if we keep each other awake,” Steve explains in that patient but not quite reasonable tone of his that usually succeeds very quickly in driving Tony up the wall.

“Keep each other awake how?” he barks, full of disbelief that Steve is actually trying to rationalize his reaction away. He turns towards Steve and steps closer until there is barely any space between them left. “Is the mere thought of sharing space with a man too much? Are you afraid I’m going to molest you in the middle of the night?”

“No, but –” Steve swallows and takes a step back, enough to cross his arms in front of him. That, truly, is answer enough.

“Or is it just that it’s me you don’t want to spend any time with?” Tony chuckles, entirely without humour. He barely catches himself from stepping towards Steve again, but his tone is getting harsher anyway. “I’m sorry that Fury thought it wise to send the two of us to scope out that base. I’m sorry that we got snowed in in a place where the only motel has only one room with only one bed. I’m sorry that –”

“I have nightmares.”

Steve looks embarrassed, which registers with Tony long before the actual words do. It stops Tony’s tirade from spiralling further, leaving them to stare at each other. Or Tony stares while Steve looks somewhere at the wallpaper, doing his best to pretend he has not just admitted some very vital information.

“You have what?” Tony asks for clarification, even though they are both aware that he has understood Steve the first time.

The grip of Steve’s arms around himself tightens. Still not looking at Tony, he explains, “I don’t sleep well because of them and I don’t want to keep you up with it. You already drove most of the way. You must be exhausted.”

That, suddenly, has all remaining anger drain right out of Tony. Nightmares, it echoes in his mind. In a twisted sort of way, that makes sense. Steve is not the type to complain about inconveniences but rather suffers everything fate throws at him stoically. If sharing the bed with Tony was the main problem, he would have declared some ground rules and went to sleep with that stiff façade of his, keeping his face turned away from Tony and likely not sleeping a single minute just so he would not accidentally invade Tony’s side of the bed. He would not have drawn attention to his displeasure with such vehemence.

Coming to a decision, Tony abandons his bag and goes to push Steve towards the bed. Steve is kind enough – or tired enough – to let himself be manhandled, and soon they sit next to each other on the too hard mattress. Tony breathes slowly, in and out, trying to make sense of the chaos inside his head. He is not exactly surprised that he does not know about this, but he feels like he should have, since they are both part of the same team, and friends too.

“Why are you having nightmares?” Tony asks, then shakes his head at himself. “Wait, stupid question. Have you talked to someone about that?”

That should have been SHIELD’s first action after defrosting their newly found supersoldier instead of that farce of pretending it is still the forties. Shellshock had been something to keep quiet about back then, but PTSD is now slowly recognized for its importance. Every soldier coming home from war should get the chance to get help if it is needed. Especially one who might not know to look for help on his own and who has the added trauma of being all alone in the world – a world he does not know because it is not the one he almost died for.

Predictably, Steve gets up again and stalks back to the door. It is still open, showing the dark hallway. He does not step out, but he might as well have, considering how distant his answer is. “It’s no big deal.”

Tony rolls his eyes and makes no effort to hide it. Sometimes, people need to know when they are being stupid. “It apparently is if you think I’m not going to get any sleep if we share a room.”

“A bed,” Steve corrects tartly. Whatever fire has been in him for this short moment disappears just as quickly again. He shrugs, clearly uncomfortable. “I’m not exactly loud, I think. But I lash out if startled.”

Steve is talking to a man who instinctively calls out for a fully weaponized metal suit even when still half-asleep to defend himself from imagined enemies. Supersoldier or not, Steve cannot pack more of a punch than the Iron Man armour.

“That’s no real difference to when you’re awake,” Tony quips, feeling the stress of needing to handle this correctly get the better of him. “Right, no time for jokes,” he mutters, then adds, louder, “I mean, Steve, this is big. It’s no shame to get help these days.”

And Steve, a true child of the olden age and stubborn to boot, shakes his head. “I don’t need to bother anyone with this.”

Just barely, Tony holds in a frustrated groan. He is not the right person to talk to about this. He, after all, has refused to go to a therapist, no matter that both Pepper and Rhodey threatened him with all they got. It is good for other people, though. For people with problems that are not of their own making. Steve, contrary to Tony, is a victim.

“You wouldn’t be a bother. It would clearly be a good idea to go to a professional, but all of us would be willing to listen,” Tony says firmly. A bit quieter, he adds, “All of us know a bit about nightmares.”

Steve looks up at him in surprise, which in turn confuses Tony. Not a single one of them can boast to be a well-adjusted individual, and it shows.

Still, Steve asks, “You – you have them too?”

Unable to remain sitting, Tony gets to his feet. He wants to deflect like he always does when this topic comes up, but that would immediately negate all the effort of getting Steve to listen in the first place.

“Did you miss the fact that I’ve been held in a cave by terrorists for three months?” Tony asks, keeping his voice open but hopes that his tone discourages further questions. “And Loki’s invasion was rather nightmarish too.” He opens and closes his mouth several times, wondering what more he could say without giving too much away. A glance at Steve’s face tells him that he might not have to. “Put your bag down,” he then says softly, “take a shower.”

Where Steve’s expression has just been open, it closes off now quickly. “But I –”

“I heard you concerns,” Tony cuts him off. “Consider me warned. But we’re not getting another room tonight.”

Time drags as they look at each other, neither willing to back down. Tony is feverishly trying to think of other things to say, because the only other thing they could do is for him to take the suit and fly out of the storm, which would defy the very definition of an undercover mission. Even in the storm, someone is bound to notice Iron Man.

Finally, Steve’s shoulders sag. Before Tony can celebrate his victory, though, Steve says, “I’ll sleep on the ground then.”

“Like hell you will.” Tony throws his arms up in frustration. They always take at least one step back for every step they take forward. He is not going to let Steve sleep on the floor after the day they had, after any day. “You’re not going to rob me of my chance to tell my grandchildren that I once slept with Captain America. I hope you’re still considered cool then.”

Tony is convinced this will not work. There is no good reason it should. Steve is afraid of his nightmares, and Tony making tasteless jokes will not make any of that better. Steve stares at the ground between them before looking back up at Tony. Finally, with a last desperate glance at the bed, Steve nods. It is a hesitant thing, as easy to take back as it is given, but Steve is not one to break his word thoughtlessly.

“I’ll even take the side facing the door,” Tony says quickly, desperate to use this door of opportunity before it closes again. “So I can flee more quickly if I get scared.”

“Stop joking,” Steve chides but Tony is sure that his lips twitch the slightest bit, before he turns serious again. “At the first sign of a nightmare, you get out of the bed and wake me with some distance between us.”

The rather inappropriate picture of Tony poking Steve with the curtain pole while shielding himself with the bathroom door pops up in his head. With some effort, Tony keeps his lips from smiling.

“I don’t –” he protests out of habit, but does not come any farther.

“Your word, Tony,” Steve says firmly, brooking no further argument. “Or I will go and build that igloo instead.”

This time, Tony cannot help but laugh. He raises his hands in defeat. “All right, you win.” An idea strikes his mind and he gets his phone out of his picket. “I’ll have JARVIS monitor your sleep patterns, even if I don’t think you will be a danger to me. He’ll wake us up if there is something to worry about.”

He should have thought of that sooner. At home, JARVIS wakes him at the slightest sign of distress, which was the only way he even allowed himself to go to bed during the worst times, after Afghanistan or Obie ripping the arc reactor out of his chest or his little trip through Loki’s portal.

Steve looks hesitant, eyeing the phone in Tony’s hand with trepidation. It must still be strange to trust a piece of technology, not knowing how it works. In the end, he just shrugs, apparently trusting that Tony knows what he is doing.

A strange feeling wells up inside Tony’s stomach at that that he is not sure he wants to analyse. Instead, he does what he can do best and deflects with another joke.

“But, I warn you, don’t strangle me on purpose if I start cuddling you,” Tony says, not mentioning that this is a real possibility. “Pepper says I’m a cuddler.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

When Steve still looks uncertain despite having agreed already, Tony walks over to him, slowly but with intent. He thinks it is a good sign that Steve does not evade him. Reaching up, Tony pulls the strap of Steve’s bag over his shoulder and sets it down next to his own.

“Shower,” Tony orders gently and pushes Steve in the direction of the bathroom. “And then you can warm up the bed for us, I don’t know how you can still be so hot with all the snow outside.”

With a sigh, Steve searches his bag for his bedclothes and his toilet bag. Right before he vanishes into the bathroom, he says, “Don’t you dare take the side facing the window. If you’re asleep when I come back, I’ll push you out.”

Unable to help himself, Tony laughs. Most of that is due to relief at having averted what might have easily turned into a crisis. When he tells that story to his grandchildren, he will certainly edit out the parts where he had to convince Captain America with all his might that sharing the bed would not end in one Tony Stark-shaped corpse. A little subterfuge will make this far more interesting. Until then, though, he will do his best to enjoy their night together after all.

Maybe he will call ahead to their next hotel to make sure they only have rooms with one bed available too.

#iron man bingo 3000 #marvel #stony #only one bed #fanfiction #ao3 #miscommunication #2012 avengers #they actually talk like adults #can you believe it #fluff #hurt/comfort

[kawaiikichi]

Three Words (Saiouma)

Saiouma “I set up the blanket fort. The password to get in is three words” from the Valentine’s Day Starters list for Anon! I had loads of fun writing this 😊

I hope you like it and let me know if you would like anything changed/edited! :D

Based off of the request below:

Title: Three Words

Prompt: “I set up the blanket fort. The password to get in is three words.”

Summary: Due to the heavy snowfall, Shuichi decides to cancel his restaurant reservation and spend Valentine’s Day with Kokichi at home. Kokichi decides on building a blanket fort for them to be in while they watch some movies and even sets up a password to get in. However, Shuichi has some trouble figuring out what said password is...

Warning(s): Implied past self-harm (it’s very much implied based on their conversation and the fading scars Shuichi takes note of, but you can interpret it however you wish; this lasts for, like, half a second, but it never gets brought up again; mentioning it just to be safe!)

One-shot is under the cut!

“Yes, I would like to cancel my reservation for seven.”

Feet padded against the hardwood floor.

“Yeah...we’re kinda snowed in at our home and the weather doesn’t look like it’s going to clear up anytime soon.”

Shuichi rose his eyes from the kitchen counter, watching as Kokichi made his way into the living room with a bundle of blankets in his arms.

“Thank you. You have a good evening, as well.”

He set his phone as he watched Kokichi drop the blankets down onto the couch.

“And what exactly are those for?” he asked.

“That’s a secret~!” Kokichi chirped in response.

Shuichi sighed.

“I had a feeling you’d say something like that...” he trailed off.

“Soooooo,” Kokichi leaned against the couch, the fuzzy lilac sweater he wore slipping off his shoulder, “did you call the place already to cancel the dinner reservation?” he asked.

“Yeah, I just got off the phone with them.” Shuichi replied.

“Heh...” Kokichi twirled some hair around his finger. “So? What are we having for dinner instead?” he asked.

“Well, while you were in the shower, I went to the grocery mart on the tenth floor and bought ingredients for chicken alfredo. Is that okay with you?” Shuichi asked.

“Yeah, that’s fine. Also, I stuck a bottle of white wine in the fridge to get cold. You can take it out if you want.” Kokichi said.

“A bottle of white wine?” Shuichi turned and opened the fridge door, spotting the wine bottle laying next to some containers of food. “Ah, I see it. I’ll take it out.” he said.

Upon taking the bottle out, the label caught his eye.

“Sauvignon blanc?” he questioned.

“Yeah. I know you hate how sweet white wine is, so I picked one that isn’t too sweet.” Kokichi explained.

“Ah.” Shuichi said as rested the bottle on the counter and proceeded to take out the ingredients needed for the chicken alfredo.

He began prepping the dish as Kokichi pulled chairs from the dining and kitchen tables into the living room.

“And you? What are you going to do?” he asked.

“Oh, I’m just gonna back to what I was doing before.” Kokichi replied.

“You mean you’re not gonna help me cook?”

“No? Come on, babe, you know that everything I touch burns and withers away into nothing but ash.”

Shuichi’s eyebrows furrowed.

“Kokichi, you know you shouldn’t be talking like that, especially with what happened seven months ago.” he spoke.

There was silence for a couple of seconds before Kokichi sighed.

“Sorry. I know that these past few months have been rough, especially for you.” he apologized.

“It’s fine, it’s just...” Shuichi trailed off.

Kokichi finished positioning the chairs exactly how he wanted them and he leaned against one of them, glanced at Shuichi.

“Look, I don’t want to put a damper on tonight. It’s Valentine’s Day, we shouldn’t be talking about something so serious.” Kokichi said.

Shuichi looked at the fading burn scars on Kokichi’s arms and then into Kokichi’s eyes, which held a serious look in them.

“Yeah...” Shuichi murmured.

“Good.” Kokichi turned and dashed into the hall. “Now then, I need to gather some pillows and other junk!” he chirped.

“Alright.” Shuichi replied.

He turned on the stove and poured olive oil into a skillet as he looked over at the kitchen bar counter.

“Alexa, play my Valentine’s Day playlist.” he called out, hoping that some music would distract him from what they were just talking about.

“Playing Valentine’s Day playlist from Shuichi Saihara’s iPhone X.”

Thinking Out Loud came on as Shuichi began cooking the chicken in the skillet. Kokichi returned to the living room a couple minutes later with more blankets and some pillows. As Kokichi continued doing what he was doing, Shuichi observed him.

Kokichi had decided on wearing black tights and fuzzy lilac socks with his sweater. His hair was pulled back into a small ponytail and his bangs were pinned back by sparkly purple bobby pins.

Shuichi brought his bottom lip in between his teeth, marveling at how cute his boyfriend looked.

Aaaaaagh, why does he have to be so cute, he wondered to himself.

Shuichi’s heart skipped a beat, cheeks flushing a rosy pink as he lowered his gaze to the blankets that Kokichi had thrown over the chairs and held in place with some clips.

As Kokichi fixed one of the blankets, Shuichi realized what he was doing.

Ah, so that’s what he’s up to, he thought to himself.

Time passed and eventually, dinner was ready. After pouring some of the wine into two glasses, he set them on a tray with their food and he carried the tray with him into the living room.

“Are you done doing what you were doing?” Shuichi asked.

He watched as Kokichi nodded in response before disappearing behind the blankets.

“Yup! I just set up the blanket fort. The password to get in is three words.” Kokichi explained as he poked his head out from the blankets.

“Is that so...” Shuichi trailed off.

“Yup! You can’t come in until you get it right~” Kokichi singsonged.

Shuichi chuckled.

“Well, I guess I’m gonna have to try and figure out what the password is, huh?” he said.

“Indeed, indeed! Now, hurry up and give me it so that we can start being all cute and romantic and stuff like that!” Kokichi whined.

“Alright, alright, I’m thinking.” Shuichi told him.

He set the tray down on the coffee table and tapped his chin, thinking of what the password could be.

“Hm...I love Panta?” he answered.

“Nope! That’s not it!” Kokichi chirped in response.

“Huh? That’s not it? I really thought that...” Shuichi trailed off.

“You’re gonna have to try harder than that, Shuichi.” Kokichi said.

Shuichi sighed.

“Alright, then...I hate Momota-kun?”

“Nope! Incorrect!”

“I eat pie.”

“Nope!”

“Top secret organization?”

“No dice.”

“Shuichi and Kokichi.”

“Hmmm...that sounds nice, but no.”

“Ice cream cat?”

“Huh? No.”

“World is mine?”

“No!” Kokichi stuck his head out from the blanket fort, cheeks puffed out in an adorable pout. “Are you dumb?!” he whined.

“I am not—Wait, is that the password?” Shuichi asked.

“No, it isn’t!”

“Kokichi, this is too difficult!”

“Okay, fine! Let me give you a hint: what do you think couples say to one another on a day like today?”

“On a day like today?”

Shuichi knitted his brows together as he began to think.

Well, today is Valentine’s Day, so I’m pretty sure there are many things that couples say to one another, he thought to himself.

He looked at Kokichi.

Let’s go with this, he thought to himself.

“Happy Valentine’s Day?” he spoke hesitantly.

Kokichi looked like he was about ready to climb out of the fort and smack Shuichi upside the head.

“Okay, let me phrase it a different way: what do we usually say to each other when we express our feelings of love and what not?” he asked.

Shuichi eyed Kokichi, still not being able to piece it all together. Then, realization hit him.

Oh...that’s what he wants me to say, he thought to himself.

He had to stop himself from giggling.

That’s really cute, actually, he told himself.

Kokichi blew some stray strands of hair out of his eyes as the pout on his lips grew bigger.

“Ugh, fine, I’ll tell you. The password is ‘I love you.’” he said.

Shuichi watched as Kokichi looked away, his cheeks taking on a rosy red color.

He’s even embarrassed...oh my god, he is so cute, he thought to himself.

Just watching his boyfriend get all flustered almost made him blush, as well.

“Well...I love you too, Kokichi.” Shuichi responded.

Kokichi eyed Shuichi out of the corner his eye, the blush on his cheeks refusing to disappear.

“I knew that already...” he crawled back into the fort. “Now, hurry up and get in here.” he muttered out.

A small chuckle escaped his lips.

“Alright, alright.” he took the tray and slid it into the fort. “Before I do that, though, poke your head back out for a second.” he requested.

“Heh?! But why?!” Kokichi complained.

“Come on, it’ll only be for a second.” Shuichi said.

Silence came from inside of the blanket fort. Then, he heard Kokichi release a loud sigh.

“Fine...” he mumbled as he poked his head out.

Shuichi smiled before reaching out and cupping Kokichi’s cheek. He closed the distance between them, their lips coming together in a kiss. Kokichi stiffened for a second before melting into the kiss. Shuichi’s heart fluttered at the sound of Kokichi sighing against his lips in content.

He broke the kiss after a couple of minutes, pressing their foreheads together. Kokichi’s eyes slowly fluttered open, a mixture of love and need sparkling in them as Shuichi spoke.

“I love you.” he whispered.

Kokichi shuddered at Shuichi’s words as his breath hit his lips.

“I...love you, too...” he muttered out, finding himself captivated by his boyfriend.

“I know.” Shuichi stroked his cheek. “Now, can I come in?” he asked.

“Hm?” Kokichi hummed out in response.

“The fort. I gave you the password properly this time. I’m asking if I can come in now.” Shuichi said.

Kokichi blinked, trying to process Shuichi’s words. Then, it clicked.

“You sly fucker!” he reached out and whacked Shuichi on the head. “Stop teasing me and get your ass in here already! The food’s going to get cold!” he barked out as he retreated back into the fort.

Shuichi smiled, feeling accomplished over getting Kokichi all flustered.

“Alright.” he said before parting the blankets and disappearing inside.

#anon #request #valentine's day starters #danganronpa v3 #saiouma #shuichi saihara #kokichi ouma #tw: implied past self-harm #tagging just in case #it's very brief and very much implied #but it only lasts for half a second before becoming fluffy again #blanket forts #romance #fluff #they're both dorks lmao #oblivious shuichi XD #kawaiikichi

[mountains-and-mayhem]

Day 67 (Ian) - Mt. Whitney

I woke up at 0300 on July 9th (Day 67) and started packing. I wasn't bringing much, but enough to need my pack: food for a day, water filter, wind jacket, and my sleeping bag (in case it was cold on top, but I wanted to sit and enjoy the view). Hell, it was cold now. I was dressed in my merino wool base layer, my warm wool shirt, and my down jacket. I had to drop my tent so I could bring my trekking poles. Bandaid, Scribe, Jailbreak, and CB decided to listen to their bodies and not make the summit attempt. I saw other headlamps preparing, so I walked over to ask if I could join their expedition. However, they were a guided tour group and company policy was to not allow that.

Undeterred and armed with caffeine and honey buns, I headed for the creek. It was pitch dark because the moon had set earlier in the night. So instead of hunting for the crossing, I just found a rock to sit on and eat my breakfast. Watching where the tour group crossed the creek, I moved to a rock right next to the crossing and waited. It was freezing, so I pulled out my sleeping bag to use as a blanket. The next group that came to cross was father & son Reinhard & Carl from near Frankfurt, Germany and Carl's lady friend Mary Kate from New York. They graciously agreed to become a group of four.

As the blue hour began to brighten, you could see our prize waiting for us 8 miles in the distance. Climbing Mt. Whitney from Crabtree Meadows is done in five parts (you can also climb a different trail from Lone Pine, plus there is a technical mountaineering route): 1) travel northeast along Guitar Lake to the base of the mountain, 2) rock scramble southeast up the lower slopes to the, 3) switchbacks which lead you due north almost all the way to the final elevation leaving you with just, 4) a long ridge walk westward to, 5) the final ascent.

In the photo there is a large snow field like a skinny, upside down triangle. To its left is #3, #4, and #5. Due to the unseasonably large amount of snowfall, there was still large, but thin fields of snow on the approach along Guitar Lake (#1) and #2's rock scramble, but #3's switchbacks were mostly clear by now with only three snow traverses we would need to perform. Plus, the final climb in #5 was also a snow climb to the exposed, rocky summit. We would want our microspikes and ice axe for all the snow work, but otherwise we used our trekking poles on the rocks and exposed trail. The other three were willing to accept the risk, and hadn't brought ice axes. This was only their third day on trail hiking the John Muir Trail northward. The JMT overlaps the PCT for most of the Sierras.

Working our way up the side of the lower slopes, looking backward to Guitar Lake.

Here is a photo of the second snow traversal. You can see Reinhard a bit over halfway across. We all crossed the first snow traversal without micro spikes as it wasn't dangerous looking. This second crossing was pretty safe too, but with a long slide down to the bottom. So we all put on micro spikes for the second crossing, except for Reinhard. Reinhard was fearless. He explained that he roller bladed and skiied, so his balance was good and he wasn't really afraid of falling. So, I gave Reinhard the trail name: Hardcore. The third snow traversal however was dangerous, with rocks to fall on, so even Hardcore spiked up.

After the rest of the switchbacks and the ridge walk, it was just one final snow climb to the top. This part felt pretty steep and I was very glad to have my ice axe. The top was a mass of jumbled rocks with a summit shelter, Park Service plaque, and Geological Survey marker. Bandaid has bought me a mini survey marker for Whitney in the form of a hat pin which I had been wearing on the inside band of my hat. Now, I repinned it on the outside.

Between Whitney and the mountains in the background of this photo - which run north-south - is a river. Next, we'll continue northward (to the right) always on the eastern (near) side of the river. We'll cross several large streams feeding into the river valley, but we'll stay above 9000 feet as we climb to Forrester Pass and into the High Sierras.

My favorite view from Whitney was Wotans Throne.

After photos, phone calls, and lunch we began our descent. After we had recrossed all the snow fields, nature began to call. So, I said my goodbyes and raced back to the latrine as I had not brought any blue bags to pack out human waste. Arriving back at camp around 1500, I laid out my wet clothing and had a cigarette to calm my mania. I had just summited the tallest mountain in the Lower 48 States (14,496 feet)! And it had been easy... I had to struggle a bit with just HOW easy it had been. Climbing Mt. Adams (12,280 feet) in WA state as a teenager had been so much more demanding. I guess a lot had changed since then. Maybe Forrester Pass would give me a bigger thrill? Did I need the thrill? I began to notice a pattern, I was becoming addicted to all this: the sights, the exertion, the endorphins, EVEN MY HEAVY PACK felt like a warm hug as I wore it. With over 1700 miles left to go, I jammed all those thoughts down for a later look and passed out. I slept like a baby. The next morning it was a little tough to not go climb Whitney again, but with all my friends heading north: so did I. But I shall return...

#pct #pct2019 #whitney

[luckyspike]

Creative Mode - A Good Omens fanfic about friends and Minecraft

HEY GUYS WHATS UP ITS YOUR GIRL 

dont hold me responsible for this i was seized with the spirit of minecraft halfway through building a diorite tower and had to write (ie i was bored and wanted to do something different but minecraft-adjacent)

forever filling my need for found families, we have the good omens idiot circus. behold.

---

There was a laziness about the winter holidays - no school, soft snow coating the ground outside, and nowhere, in particular, to be. It was the week between Christmas and New Years’, and Adam was enjoying himself. He had a good Christmas - a few things he’d been hoping for, as well as the ever-constant box of socks and underwear - and was planning on spending New Years’ Eve with the Them. He had, somewhere in the haze of his fourteen-year-old mind, designs of trying to kiss Pepper at the stroke of midnight, but these thoughts were fuzzy and tentative, and kept bumping up against thoughts of Pepper hitting him for telling her she looked “more like a girl than usual” on a day this past fall when she’d worn makeup to school.

He would need to consider it more.

Still, he reasoned there was plenty of time to consider. After all, he was largely on his own for the week while his parents were visiting his older sister in Spain. Certainly he was supposed to be spending the nights with Wensleydale and his family, while Anathema and Newt watched Dog*, but during the days he was free to wander around the village as he pleased, playing with Dog and just generally Hanging About. RP Tyler had already composed fifteen mental letters to the paper and Adam’s father about it.

It was sort of boring though - one could only strategize one’s New Years Eve romance so much - and by the fourth day Adam was wandering with less intent than usual, up the walk toward his house, Dog bouncing through the belly-deep (for Dog) snow alongside him. He was considering how to best while away the hours until Wensley finished with his piano practice, and was lightly entertaining the thought of finding Brian and asking if he’d like to see how far out they could get onto the ice on the pond before it broke and they fell in, when he heard a car pull up beside him.

He turned, and then he beamed. “Hey, Crowley!” Dog yapped excitedly, while the demon waved lazily.

“Hey, Adam. How’s things?”

“Boring,” Adam responded, completely honestly. “What are you doing here?”

Crowley shrugged. “I was in the area. Need a lift somewhere?”

Adam considered it. “I wasn’t really going anywhere. Home, I guess. Mum asked me to water her plants a few times while she’s away.”

“Ah.” And Crowley leaned across the seat, and popped the passenger-side door to the Bentley open. “Get in, I’ll drive you.” He managed to bite back a remark when Dog also jumped in, immediately leaving muddy pawprints on the leather seat. “What kind of plants?”

“I dunno, she’s got a lot. She left a list. Got directions on it and everything.”

“Ah.” Crowley pulled away after Adam shut the door, only sliding a little in the slush around the corner to Hogback Lane. “Having a nice holiday?”

“Yeah, not too bad. Kind of boring, though. Brian’s got his aunt over so he can’t hang out as much, and Wensley has piano practice for a few hours every day and Pep, uh …” Adam trailed off, and then swallowed. Imperceptibly, Crowley almost smirked. Teens. “I dunno, she has family or something.” A thought occurred to him. “Hey, didn’t Aziraphale say you have a bunch of plants or something?”

“I’ve got a few.”

“Only I’ve never watered my mum’s plants before, and she’s got some really weird directions for some of them.” He looked over, cautiously optimistic. “You wouldn’t have a minute to - ?”

The Bentley rolled up along the curb outside of the Young’s house, and Crowley shut the engine off. “Yeah, I have a minute.” Adam beamed.

Adam began to suspect Crowley had more than a few house plants based on the look he gave Adam’s mother’s plant care list when he picked it up. He read down the very-specific list of directions with Adam, and did a lap of the house with the kid, Adam studiously misting and watering as directed. He did notice, sort of distantly, how the demon would linger at each plant for an extra few seconds, apparently glaring at the foliage over the rims of his glasses, but he was preoccupied with the heavy responsibility of gardening, and the quiet hissing escaped his notice. As did the nearly-silent trembling of the leaves. The African violet, for the first time in four years, started to bloom. 

The boy deposited the watering can and mister back on their usual shelves, and stuffed his hands back into his pockets, surveying the plants around the house and feeling the warm glow of responsibility managed. “Wasn’t so hard, really,” he reflected, as Crowley joined him back in the kitchen, setting the list back on the counter by the sink. “Hope none of them die.”

“They won’t,” Crowley replied, likewise sticking his hands in his pockets. “So … family out of town?”

“Spain.” Adam sighed. “Dunno what I’ll do for the afternoon. Guess I could grab a few magazines and read ‘em back at Wensley’s. Maybe play a few games.”

“Which games?” Crowley asked, with the sort of passing interest that adults and adult-shaped beings used when they were trying to encourage a kid to talk about their interests. “I’m assuming video games, yeah?”

“Yeah.” Adam sighed. “I dunno. I already beat the ones Mum and Dad got me for Christmas. I guess I could play Minecraft for a while, start a new world or something.” Something about that - probably the bit about the new world - seemed to catch Crowley’s interest. Adam went on, “I mean, me an’ the Them got our world, but that’s more fun when we’re all playin’ together, so I guess I could just do a single-player. You, uh, you know what that game is, right?”

Crowley shrugged. “Can’t say I’m much of one for video games**.”

“Oh. Well, it’s really cool. You like … you start with nothing in the middle of like the wilderness, and you gotta build a house and find resources or whatever, an’ there’s monsters and you can starve to death and stuff. But you can build stuff too, like cool stuff.” He trailed off briefly, unsure of how his pitch was landing. “I could show you if you want.”

The demon appeared to consider it for a minute. Then, with a shrug, “Sure, I don’t have anywhere to be. You build stuff, you said?”

Adam nodded, enthusiastic, already leading the way to his room. “Yeah, I’ll show you.”

It took twenty minutes to get the console started, and to give Crowley a crash course on how a controller worked. He picked up it a lot faster than Adam’s father had. Probably, Adam reasoned, on account of him being so old. Must have been something like a controller sometime before in history. Adam perched on the side of the bed, controller in hand, while Crowley sat cross-legged on top of the plaid comforter, Dog happily stretched out between the two, already asleep. “Right, so you’re on the bottom of the screen an’ I’m on the top.” He watched studiously for a minute. “You gotta get some resources. If you punch the tree it’ll break and you get the wood from it.”

“Oh. Naturally.” Crowley twiddled the sticks and obediently began punching the tree. There was a pop, and an 8-bit rendering of a wood block appeared on the inventory bar at the bottom of the screen. “Right. Now what?”

Adam paused in his own tree-punching endeavors. “You can make a crafting table, but you have the make the block into planks first. Once you get a crafting table you can make all kinds of stuff.”

This is a complete waste of time, Crowley thought, as Adam coached him along through the crafting table process. And then, I love humans so much, these absolutely nutty things.

It didn’t take long for Crowley to pick up on it. He may have been new to console gaming, but Adam had chosen wisely in terms of introductory games, and he did have the unique intuition and common sense granted by six millennia living among humans. And Adam was, for the less intuitive parts, a good teacher. He chatted the whole time too, about whatever happened to drift across his mind - school, his friends, the current state of international affairs as far has he understood it (and questions relating thereto), things that annoyed him, and on and on. The light outside got dimmer, and they continued to play, controllers clicking quietly in the background, while in the game a house began to take place and then, by parts, look … good.

“You’re pretty good at this for a grown-up,” Adam reflected, after a couple of hours. He had changed position at some point, laying on his belly on the bed, feet kicking idly as he played, with Dog splayed across the small of his back.

Crowley considered that. “Am I a grown-up, technically?”

“Not sure what else you’d be, 6000 years old. You can’t be a kid.”

“True.” The demon hissed a little in frustration when he punched an existing pane of glass and it shattered, and Adam pretended not to notice. “Not a bad game, this one.”

“Nah, it’s cool. An’ you got the building down really fast. Even Wensley doesn’t make houses that look this good,” he hadded, appreciative, as he ran around the perimeter and surveyed the word done. “You sure you haven’t played this before?”

“Absolutely positive.”

“You played other building games then? Oh, or did you build stuff like, in the olden days?”

Crowley paused, and his nose twitched slightly. Adam had learned, over the years, that this was a tell. He was stumbling in to something, and if he wanted Crowley to hang around for any further length of time today, he shouldn’t push. He’d find out eventually. “Long time ago, yeah,” Crowley said at length. “Not that it was similar to this.”

“But like houses and stuff? Cause like, this is a good house. Looks really cool.”

“Not quite houses.”

“Oh!” Adam exclaimed, after arrowing a creeper to death and collecting the gunpowder for later. “Is anything you made still around? Like, in real life? Could I see it?”

“Yeah.” Adam blinked, and realized that the lower half of the screen - Crowley’s half - had gone mostly still. Mostly. The view, such as it was, was just the digital night sky, spinning slowly around. “You could.”

“The stars move with the moon,” Adam said helpfully, after a few beats of silence. “In the game,” he added.

“Yeah.”

Adam swallowed. And then, cautiously, because curiosity was gnawing him away from the inside, and yet he felt like a man perched at the edge of a vast chasm with the winds whipping at him, he said, “You’re not talking about buildings on Earth, are you?”

Crowley frowned a little, and Adam paused, finger hovering over the save button. He might have gone too far. But then, quietly, Crowley said, “No. Never built any actual buildings. Just …” He shrugged. “Other stuff.”

“Stars,” Adam said quietly, and it wasn’t a question. He stopped time, once, Adam remembered, but even for him the memories seemed just a little fuzzy now, three years later, separated in time by years of mundane things like school and video games and being normal. Sometimes, every once in a great while, he almost forgot altogether. Almost. They’re not just old people. They’re not people.

“Stars,” Crowley agreed. “Not a lot. Just a few. Someone had to do it, and it wasn’t a bad job.”

“Prob’ly.” Adam paused for a second and then, because he didn’t care for the weight of the silence, he said, “I think a zombie might be eating you.”

“Oh. Huh.” And the moment passed. 

The zombie was slain, and Adam returned to mining ore, while the weight of the silence lifted by inches and Adam breathed a little easier. Stars, he thought. I wonder which ones. He didn’t ask. “You know,” he said instead, “if you get a console at your place you could keep playing. Like online.”

“Oh yeah?” Crowley’s eyebrows raised. “Interesting.”

Adam set his controller aside. “I can write down what to get for you,” he explained, even as he pulled a pencil and pad off the little desk. Dog grumbled in protest as he slid from his Master’s back and onto the bed. “An’ the server an’ the password an’ everything so you can find it then. An’ you can text me if you forget.” He bent his head to the notepad, and so he didn’t notice Crowley’s smile, just a quick one, when it happened. The paper tore, and he handed the demon the note, scratched in the messy handwriting of a fourteen-year-old. “You know, if you wanna keep playing after you leave.”

Crowley looked the note over. “I might.” He glanced at the clock in the room then, and asked, “Is someone going to be expecting you home at some point?”

“Yeah,” Adam said, scooping his controller back up and returning to the game. “Wensley’s parents told me to be home by five, though, so I have time. But Wensley’ll be done with piano practice around three so I figured I’d go back about then.”

Crowley glanced over with a bemused grin. “It’s half three already, Adam.”

“Well, yeah, but I’m lost down this mine and I don’t wanna lose all the gold ore I got. We have to make a Tower. I’ll come back, then I’ll go.”

“Right, yeah, the Tower.” Crowley’s grin didn’t fade, and he cycled through the inventory to the map. “Hang on, I think I know where you are.” 

At length, Operation: Rescue Adam and the Gold Ore was a success. Adam shut the console off, and Crowley stuffed the note into a pocket. The house was locked up (with one last plant-check from Crowley, although Adam wasn’t sure he understood why), and the demon, the not-Antichrist, and the Dog loaded up into the Bentley, bound for Jasmine Cottage to drop Dog off. “You want me to wait?” Crowley offered, the car idling at the garden gate, while Adam and his dog jumped out. 

Adam considered it. “Nah. I’ll walk. Not that cold out.”

Crowley looked vaguely concerned, insofar as much as he ever looked concerned in situations that did not involve the impending Apocalypse, his own death and/or inconvenience, or Aziraphale being cross with him. “I could wait, really. Don’t have anywhere to be.”

Adam considered it again, but from the cottage he was fairly certain he caught a whiff of Anathema’s famous Polvorones, and shook his head. “Nah. Thanks, though.” Adam pretended not to notice when Crowley sniffed the air - the cookie smell really was strong - and then waited while he swung out of the Bentley and joined Adam at the gate.

“Might as well make sure you get inside alright and say hi to Anathema while I’m here,” he said, as an excuse.

“And get some cookies?” Adam suggested, cutting to the core of the issue, the two of them crunching up the walk together, Dog trotting between them.

“Aziraphale would kill me if I didn’t.”

Adam laughed. “Right. Oh, uh.” He stopped a few feet short of the door. “Uh, Crowley, um,” he looked up to the sunglasses, the carefully-arched eyebrow, and his mind raced a mile a minute. Which stars were yours? his brain whined. Which ones up there did you actually make? What’s outer space like? Are there aliens? What’s it like to make a star? His mouth, after a minute, said “Thanks a lot for the ride.”

Crowley was watching him. Not for the first time, Adam wondered if demons could read minds. He couldn’t have, he didn’t think, when … things were happening. But he was different then. It wasn’t the same. And Crowley had never said anything, but every now and again, he had this Look he could give you, a thousand miles wide and Adam wondered …

And then Crowley grinned, and shrugged, and knocked on the door. “Not a problem. Thanks for the game.”

“You think you might get a console?” Adam asked, as footsteps approached on the opposite side of the door. Crowley rocked back onto his heels and shrugged, but the amiable grin never dropped.

“You know Adam, I think I might.”

-

* In spite of numerous attempts, Dog and Wensley’s cat had never been able to reconcile their differences.

** This was not altogether a lie. Crowley had never played a game on a computer or a console, although he had been instrumental in the development of the E.T. game for Atari. Phone games, on the other hand, were another story entirely, and Crowley was rather proud of his perfect score in Heart’s Medicine, although only Aziraphale knew about this accomplishment.

#good omens #crowley #adam young #i wish i didn't enjoy fanfiction so much #found families are my greatest weakness #it is my personal gay agenda #also yes that is an achievement hunter reference #adam would love achievement hunter dont even argue with me about this

[sstaylor]

Read Chapter One of The Expeditioners and the Lost City of Maps

Chapter One 

“We’ll be arriving in Gryg City soon,” a BNDL agent called through the half-open door of the baggage compartment. “Mr. Mountmorris says you can come up to the front if you want to see our arrival.”  

I made my way through the piles of suitcases and trunks, and along the narrow passageway that led to the main passenger areas of the big government airship.  

The lounge in the central gondola was filled with people—black uniformed BNDL, or Bureau of Newly Discovered Lands—agents, government officials, and other trainee Explorers like myself from the Academy for the Exploratory Sciences. We were all on our way to Grygia, and we crowded around the floor-to-ceiling windows of the gondola to watch the jagged peaks of the Carpathian Mountains rise up below us. 

The airship was moving fast and for a terrible moment I thought we were going to hit the snow-capped mountains in front of us. But just when it looked like all hope was lost, we soared up and over them and then we were looking down at the wide white and dark green bowl of the Grygian Valley, the huge Grygian fir trees poking out of the heavy snow cover. It was early January, deep winter in Eastern Europe.

Grygia had been the first of the New Lands to be discovered, and its discovery had kicked off the New Modern Age of Exploration. Unlike us, Harrison Arnoz had made his way up and over these mountains in the early spring. He’d found a greener, more alive valley, filled with unknown species of ancient, towering trees, and the Grygian Tree Dwellers living in their intricately-constructed treehouses, complex networks of bridges connecting them to other trees and Tree Dweller communities. 

But I knew that I was seeing what he had seen—from a different vantage point—and it was thrilling. 

As we descended, the streets and buildings of Gryg City came into focus. The slopes of the mountains directly surrounding the city were covered with Grygian fir trees, but not far outside, huge swaths of the mountainside had been completely cleared. I could see big machines moving around in the logging camps. And at the other end of the valley, I could see the huge holes that had been dug into the hillside for the Gryluminum mines.  The Gryluminum pits and strips of treeless ground looked like wounds and scars on the surface of the mountains. 

 “Hey! Baggage boy, you’d better get back to your work. We’re almost there.” 

I looked up into the jeering face of my Academy classmate Lazlo Nackley, standing by the windows with his friend Jack Foster and another classmate, Kemal Asker.

“Come on, Lazlo, leave him alone,” Kemal said, giving me an apologetic shrug. I liked Kemal and I knew he hated the way Lazlo had been treating me.

“What? It’s true. Mr. Mountmorris is going to need his bags. And you’re his baggage boy.” Lazlo laughed. 

My brother Zander and our friend Sukey Neville came running into the gondola, Zander’s trained parrot Amerigo Vespucci on his shoulder. Sukey was wearing her uniform as a member of the trainee flying corps, an olive green flight suit, tall brown leather boots, and a brown jacket with a bright red “ADR Flying Squad Trainee” patch on it. Her copper-colored curls were pinned up on top of her head, but a few had escaped around her face. Sukey was a Neo, or Neotechnologist, but without her bright clothes made from synthetic materials, she looked just like all the other trainee pilots. 

Except for the tiny green lights embedded in her ear. They blinked at me a few times before resuming a steady glow. 

Zander was wearing his black ADR Officers Training Corps uniform, just like Jack and Lazlo. “Hey, Kit. They let us watch from the cockpit,” Sukey said. “It’s amazing. I thought we were going to hit the mountains, but we didn’t. Oh, look! There’s the aerodrome.” 

We were descending now, very slowly. Below, I could see the wide landing platform of an aerodrome. Smaller airships bobbed on their platforms. Suddenly, there was a loud rushing sound and a glider raced along the ground below us and rose up into the sky with a roar.  

 “It’s a flying machine,” someone shouted. “One of the new gasoline engine ones!” 

We all watched as it flew up dangerously close to the gondola’s window and then disappeared up into the sky. 

“Whoosshhhhh,” Pucci chortled, mimicking the sound of the flying machine. 

“It must be a test flight from the ADR base outside Gryg City,” Sukey said. The Agency for the Defense of the Realm was building military bases all up and down the border with the Indorustan Empire, and now that we were at war with the Indorustans they were moving soldiers and pilots to all of them.

I turned around and met Sukey’s eyes. She was on her way to finish her training at the base. It would be her in the flying machine in a few weeks or months. 

“Where’s M.K.?” I asked them. My little sister had spent most of the voyage down in the control room. I missed her. Sukey shrugged. Zander said he hadn’t seen her.

“See you later,” I told them. “The baggage needs me.” 

I headed back to the baggage compartment. I had to repack Mr. Mountmorris’s bags before we landed and then carry them off the airship myself. He didn’t allow anyone else to touch them, which would have been flattering except that I hated him and I found it a little humiliating to have to organize his underwear.

Another black-suited, scowling BNDL agent was stationed outside the door to the baggage compartment and he eyed me up and down as I approached and said, “Mr. Mountmorris wants to see you. He’s in his berth.” 

“But I thought I was supposed to get his bags together. We’re about to dock.”

“That was the order. You’d better hurry.”

Mr. Mountmorris was in the fanciest of the passenger berths. I had spent the voyage sleeping in a cramped box-like berth next to the baggage compartment, on the bottom bunk, beneath an engineer who snored and talked in his sleep about someone named Carla. 

When I entered, Mr. Mountmorris’s assistant, Jec Banton, nodded at me. Mr. Mountmorris was sitting at a table pulled up to the window so he could see the view. The table was laid with a teapot, cups, and a plate of cupcakes and pastries decorated with bright green frosting. 

“Hello, Mr. West,” he said, without turning around. “We are almost there. Exciting, isn’t it? Your first trip to Gryg City.”

His thin hand hovered over the cupcakes. Finally he chose one, plucking it off the plate as though it were a flower in a garden. I watched him lick the frosting from the top before putting it down. 

“It would be if I knew what I was doing here.” I paused. “Sir.” 

He turned quickly and fixed his eyes on me. He must have had lots of different pairs of colored lenses to go in his eyes. When I’d first met him, they’d been green. Today they were a deep shade of violet.

“You want to know what you’re doing here, do you?” 

“It would be really nice,” I told him. “I’ve been in top secret clandestine services training for the past six months. I’ve learned how to survive in the desert, to trail someone for ten hours without being caught. I’ve learned how to make a weapon out of a dinner fork and to make basic conversation in thirteen languages. I know how to find a meal in the rainforest and I can find a perfect hiding spot within twenty seconds of walking into almost any room. And now, I am on my way to Grygia as your ‘baggage assistant,’ which seems to involve a lot of organizing of your socks. Yes, I would like to know what I‘m doing here.” I’d been holding in my anger for a long time and it poured out of me now. It was hot in the berth and sweat trickled down my right temple. 

Mr. Mountmorris smiled and waved a hand toward the window, and Gryg City beyond. “You are here to carry out a top secret mission in accordance with your training,” he told me. 

“Oh, right,” I said sarcastically. “Yes, the top secret handling of the baggage. Will my mission involve socks or underwear today, Mr. Mountmorris?” 

Jec Banton raised his eyebrows in disapproval, but Mr. Mountmorris just smiled and chose another cupcake. 

 “Mr. West, do you know how much your training over the last six months has cost the Bureau of Newly Discovered Lands? No? Well, let me tell you. More than one thousand Allied Dollars per day. As you say, you have had courses in world languages, in self-defense, in code-breaking and cartography. You know how to find water in a barren desert and you know how to disappear in any city in the world.” 

He waited a moment, then asked me, “Do you think that we would spend that much money on you if we meant to have you manage baggage for the entire trip?”

I gulped. “No, I guess not.”

“Do you think that maybe, just maybe, we need to be careful about how we insert you into Simeria? Because there are many people who are interested in what our intentions are there and the moment you step off this airship you will surely be followed by clandestine agents of the Indorustan Empire?”

“I suppose that yes, that would make sense.” I kept my eyes on the green cupcake in his hand. 

“And do you think that perhaps this mission is all part of your cover? You do remember the lessons on creating a cover, an acceptable public identity that allows you to achieve your clandestine aim, do you not?”  

“Oh, this is all my . . . ? Oh,” I gulped. “Sorry.” 

“Apology accepted. Now, Mr. West, I was just about to tell you that when we have arrived in Gryg City and I have had the afternoon to settle in at the Royal Grygian Hotel, I would like you to come and see me in my suite and I will brief you on your mission.”

“O–o–okay,” I stammered. 

“And remember what I said about you being followed. For the moment, you must make no effort to go undetected. In fact, it would be good if you were seen walking around Gryg City. You are a trainee Explorer, coming along on my diplomatic mission as my baggage handler. You may act as though you are exactly that.” 

At that moment, the airship bumped gently against the landing platform. I heard a loud whoosh as the burners slowed. Through the windows, I could see workers scurrying around on the platform, securing the airship with ropes.

“Oh look,” Mr. Mountmorris exclaimed cheerfully, his face now as bright and joyful as a kid’s on Christmas morning. “We’re here!” 

#Expeditioners ExpeditionersLostCityofMaps SSTaylor

[jlawrence10]

This was our summit on Thursday morning, and it was a good one. 2:30 AM, a full moon rising over boiling clouds, as climbers trickled out of the RMI Expeditions hut at 10,000 feet to come to terms with the fact that we weren't going any higher.

--------------- I have made no attempt to keep this short. ---------------

As many of you know, I was honored with an invite to join the second Climb for Clean Air Rainier Team on a summit attempt with RMI Expeditions this past week. It's a 4 day program of learning about gear, mountain techniques, and snow climbing, with a stay at their hut halfway up the mountain at Camp Muir, and one shot at the summit on Thursday morning.

I always advise new climbers not to obsess over the weather forecast, because all it does is cause stress, and there's absolutely nothing you can do about it. So as I obsessed over the weather forecast for a week prior, I could tell that it wasn’t looking good. But you've got to stay in the frame of mind that a window might open up, so you're ready for a shot at the top if it comes. That can be difficult; a few of us camped in the rain on Monday night, but for Tuesday's snow climbing class the weather was mostly acceptable. No view of the mountain, but some sun breaks, and hardly any rain at all.

I guess the rain was saving itself up for Wednesday, when we had to climb from the Paradise area of Mt. Rainier National Park, 4 miles and 4500 vertical feet with full overnight packs, weighing in between 40 and 50 lbs. As we pulled into the lot at Paradise, the windshield wipers were going strong, and instead of hopping out into the rain to gear up, our guide Win Whittaker asked the bus driver if we could pull up to the lot in front of Paradise Lodge to go inside and gear up instead. Neither Win, the longtime guide/bus driver/partial RMI owner Joe, nor 7 year guide Mike knew if there was space to turn the bus around in the lodge lot. They had never had conditions that warranted pulling up to the lodge to get geared up. I took this to be a pretty bad sign.

But gear up we did, and out into the rain we went. There's not much choice. If you want a shot at the top, you have to get to Camp Muir at a decent hour to rest up, eat, and hydrate. The hike out of Paradise and onto the Muir snowfields was... well, it was a little bit fun to be honest with you. But it was also pretty horrible. Our guide Mike would later say that it was the worst day on the snowfield he had ever experienced, and he's been guiding for 7 years. (I’m sure he says that every time it rains, but whatever…) It was basically a recipe for hypothermia. Temps hovering between 35 and 42 degrees, heavy rain, and winds gusting to probably 40 mph.

This team was amazing.

We put our gear on, put our heads down, and just took off into the clouds. At times it was just breezy and moist. At other times we were nearly blown off our feet. And at times the rain was just soaking. Our amazing guides Win, Mike, Abby, Drew, Avery and Matias kept checking in with each and every one of us. Are your hands ok? Is anybody chilled? Do you have plenty of energy? I realized later that these check ins were also our chance to bail out. Mike said that 9 out of 10 teams he has guided wouldn't have continued up into such conditions. But for this team, it never even came up. They've all raised a ton of money for the American Lung Association, and unlike many who call themselves mountaineers, they weren't climbing for themselves. They were climbing for the friends, families and colleagues who had donated to the cause. They were climbing for the husbands and wives who had held down the fort at home while they hit the trail every damn weekend since February. They were climbing, and I was climbing, for the loved ones we've lost to lung disease and fucking cancer, and we weren't going to let a little rain slow us down.

In fact, the rain sped us up. Usual time to Camp Muir on a nice day is about five hours. We did it in just over four. We didn't take any sit-down breaks, and in fact I only took my pack off once, when I decided I needed to sacrifice a valuable pair of dry gloves, because my hands were getting chilled to the point where I couldn't really use them anymore.

At about 9000 feet, as we hit a very exposed snow field with steady winds and near-freezing rain, our guide Avery looked back at us, and said, "You guys are gonna have to keep up with me. We are not going to go slow." This made me pretty happy because I knew a faster pace would warm me up. I'm not sure if all my fellow climbers shared this sentiment.

We pulled into Camp Muir, ditched our packs, and piled into the RMI hut, which is a small room filled mostly with bunks. Those of us that had any dry clothes changed into them. Those that didn't stripped down and climbed into their sleeping bag. Those that had a leak in their trash-bag-pack-liner shared a sleeping bag until the guides rustled up an extra, warning that, "It probably smells like guide."

It was about 3:00 PM, the wind kept howling outside, the rain and snow and sleet kept pounding the hut, but we were safe and comfortable for the time being, as Win and Mike came in to brief us on tomorrow's summit attempt. Win started in to his usual, "We'll wake you up between midnight and two..." but then stopped, got a sort of "fuck it" look on his face, and said, "I'm gonna be frank. It's not looking good." We'd all seen the forecast. We all had layers that were soaking wet. Some didn't have any dry gloves, and others had boots that had either soaked through, or filled up from the top. Efforts to hang clothes to dry in a hut in a rainstorm filled with 18 warm breathing bodies were mostly a kind of charade. The best technique was wringing out a layer, hanging it for a couple hours, and then either putting it in your sleeping bag (bad!) or just putting it on (worse!). We all knew the situation, and I think we all appreciated Win's honesty. He and Mike still briefed us as if we might give it a shot, and Win insisted later that he hadn't actually ruled it out until 2:00 AM because dammit he was weathered off on his last attempt too.

After a lot of hot water bottles, some bad jokes (Mike), some good riddles (Matias), some enthusiastic chatter (Charyl), we settled in for "quiet time" at about 6:30 and tried to sleep a bit as the wind kept pounding the hut.

2:00 AM had to come. I guess I slept a bit because before I knew it, Win was in there. "It's not in the cards, guys." He reiterated that winds up high were forecast over 60 mph, temps were dropping, and drove the point home by grabbing a couple pieces of hanging gear, which were still dripping wet. He knew that putting on wet gloves and wet boots and climbing into freezing winds is a recipe for disaster.

I think we all knew it. For me, it wasn't a surprise, and the disappointment had settled slowly rather than punching me in the gut. But I've been up Rainier before. And I have a good chance to go up again. For some of these folks, this was their second attempt after raising a ton of money, twice. For others, this may have been their only shot. And I was feeling pretty devastated for them. I took in the news, laid back for a few minutes, and decided that since I was up I might as well head over and use the smelly bathrooms. I put on some layers and slipped into my damp boots. I got to the door, lowered my head and stepped out into the presumably howling winds and rain. As I got out there and looked around, these words came to my mouth:

"Fuck. It's perfect."

The winds had calmed. The clouds had lowered. A full moon was rising to the south over a boiling sea of clouds that were rolling rapidly east and, as one climber later put it, "Looked alive."

I turned and looked at the upper mountain, and it was lit brightly by the moon and looked so cold and beautiful set against a sky of stars that shone strongly despite the overpowering moonlight.

I'm not gonna lie - My first reaction was anger and frustration and doubt and questioning of the decision to not climb. The night seemed ideal. But I was being a selfish idiot. Win has climbed this mountain 140+ times. Mike has climbed 35+ times. There were six incredible guides with years of experience agonizing over this decision for hours, and if I'm not gonna trust them to make the right decisions to keep us safe, then I certainly shouldn't tie into their rope and put my life in their hands at 14,000 feet. But I DID trust them to make the right decisions to keep us safe, and I would have trusted them with my life at 14,000 feet, and as they proved to us during that trip and later on in the warmth at Base Camp back in town (warmth provided by hot showers, central heating, and a few beers), they wanted that summit as much as we did. And not for themselves, but for us, and for our donors, and for our family members and colleagues and husbands and wives and girlfriends without whom none of us would be here.

But here we definitely are, trickling out of hut at 10,000 feet at 2:30 in the morning, eyes adjusting to the bright moonlight and taking in the rolling clouds below us and the bright moon above. Tears were shed. Hugs were shared. Someone brought out a decent sized flask of decent bourbon and that someone was me. Someone else went back in to the hut and whispered that if anyone was awake, they should really come out and have a look. Pictures were taken, and there was some half-joking discussion about finding a rope and going up anyway, but overall the mood as I read it changed from one of disappointment and sadness to simple and sincere appreciation for where we were at that moment. Not many people ever got to see what we were seeing, and got to be part of a team like this. We looked around at the people we had met earlier that week, earlier this year, or in some cases over 12 years ago because of this program, and we felt good about what we had done and where we were at that very moment.

Eventually we had to go back inside, grab a few more hours of sleep, and wait for the time that the rest of the world knows as morning; actual sunrise. The sun rose on a brilliantly clear morning, clouds still churning below us, as our guides shuttled enormous fluffy pancakes down from their quarters, and we started to pack our things. We descended back down into the clouds, but it was merely foggy and a little moist, nothing to worry us mountaineers.

Back in town, we had some showers and some food and some beers, and gathered for a little ceremony to get our certificate of (the carefully worded) “Participation in an ascent of Mt. Rainier.” Everyone spoke a bit about what they had learned, and watching people shrug off the disappointment and tell stories of gratitude and joy and learning and accomplishment just drove home my love and appreciation for this team and this program.

When it was my turn to speak about what I had learned, I kind of cheated. It’s something that I re-learned and that I re-learn every time I’m out there.

Signing up for some weird fundraising, mountain climbing program after hearing a radio ad in 2007… Getting out of bed on a dark, rainy February morning to do some training hike you’ve already done 17 times… Heading out to the mountains even though the forecast isn’t great and it might be too cold or wet or windy to go very high… Heading out to Ashford, Washington with a bad forecast and a low chance at a summit, and diving headlong into a cold soaking rain to slog up some snowfield to spend a wet night in a leaky hut at 10,000 feet…

What I re-learned was this: It’s always worth it.

Because you may end up with some lifelong friends.

And you may end up in a newly built yurt on a smooth concrete floor, as Win Whittaker plays guitar and forgets lyrics, while newly minted mountaineer Steve plays a damn good backing drum and Paul strolls in with a strong clear voice and I think a Nalgene full of ice? that sounds surprisingly good as a shaker. And he’s especially adept at looking up lyrics so we can all try and mostly fail to sing along.

And you may end up at 10,000 feet, gazing at the most amazing moonrise you’ve ever seen, feeling life in the form of disappointment and sadness and gratitude and love and awe and wonder and burning whiskey and a dull headache and tears drying on your cheeks.