#but one of the few times i have been able to see northern lights in denmark with the naked eye.......... we got a VERY rare type

[bonojour]

lights photos from a friend up in canada!! was too cloudy for me to see them :-(

gosh seeing the coronas burst overhead like that!!!!! really, really beautiful 💗 i also love the richness of colours in this!! thanks for sharing these beauties!

#text #also this reminds me right #so there are some Types of northern lights and researchers are still discovering them and naming them #i am not good with remembering their names (i only remember steve who is a celebrity) #but one of the few times i have been able to see northern lights in denmark with the naked eye.......... we got a VERY rare type #discovered (and named) recently by finnish researchers #and i can hear you think: wow gilles that is nice! a rare type! you must have been so lucky! #but this type consists of tiny green UFO-like blobs #and.............. it is so opposite to the big swirly idea of aurora #that we just looked at these discs like ???? how do we respond to these accordingly #(i am quite happy with having seen them but it really caught us off guard)

[butyou-callmewhenyourebored]

Ross MacDonald Imagine

Summary: In which you and your sweet husband Ross find out you're having a baby and tell the rest of the band.

Warnings: A few swear words, that's it.

Author's Note: A result of me not being able to finish my George piece, getting frustrated at my Matty piece and not finishing that too. This is just sweet fucking fluff and now I want a cute domestic family life with my sweet husband Ross and I'm going to cry over how that isn't my current life.

Before you read this. I've never been pregnant so there is no in depth writing about the intricacies of being pregnant. Mentions of food once. I googled if pregnant women could eat it, they can. Apart from that... Enjoy dilf Ross!

I don't know why I'm nervous to post this but enjoy!

Word Count: 4.1K Words

You met Ross MacDonald when you were eleven years old and starting Wilmslow high school before being the bassist in the Brit Award winning The 1975 was even a blip on his radar. You wouldn’t have called yourselves friends per say as you ran in different friend groups during your time at school but you knew he was friends with your neighbour Matty, so once they had decided to form a band, you saw him around a little more. Not that you were complaining as he was one half of the calm alongside Adam to the chaos that was Matthew and their newly acquired drummer George.

You liked him. He was sweet, well as sweet as a teenage boy could be and he always made you laugh whenever you saw him. Growing closer to his group of friends as you all started to become the age of house parties and underage drinking. You'd even made out with Adam during a drinking game once when you were sixteen, not that Matty ever let you forget. He loves to tease the three of youof that moment including Ross; that his missus had kissed Hann before him. Alight flush always dancing across Hann’s cheeks, usually as he shakes his head at the constant teasing you endure from Matty. Even when you’re in your sixties, you two were never going to live that down!

Then you went to university in Manchester; not far from home but far (and busy) enough that the only person you saw was Matty on the occasions you were home due to him being next door. Upon graduating; you moved to London with your newly appointed graduate job at the creative agency you had secured, a move that you swore you’d never do. You were a northern soul through and through but you stayed down there for five years before you moved back to the North.

By this time; the band had already released a string of EPs and were gearing up to release their debut album in the time you had started your own career. Chasing the dreams you always heard them talk about when you were kids and you felt a warmth of pride in your chest when you thought about the annoying kid next door who would make a racket in his garage with his mates becoming the successful band they always dreamed of becoming. You were so proud even if it had been years since you had seen them all together.

You wouldn’t get the chance to see them again properly until they came home in the autumn of 2015 before the release of their sophomore album.

You bumped into an old friend from high school in big Tesco not long after you had moved back to Cheshire and they invited you to a small get together they were holding that weekend. Just drinks, nothing crazy like the old days but it would be nice to catch up with everyone but the wink Josh sent your way as you were saying goodbye caused you you to think casual drinks would be the last thing that was going to happen.

When you had arrived at the party, the house was full of people you hadn’t seen in years. So definitely not casual drinks! You had just managed to push your way through to the kitchen when some one was yanking you backwards at full speed and throwing themselves at you at full force. A head of curls tickling the side of your face and a familiar aftershave he always wore invading your senses, you knew it was Matthew before you even saw his face. You manage to squeeze him back tightly before he pulled away from you grinning.

“Sweetheart! Ohhh how I’ve missed you!” He wailed dramatically.

“You don’t have time to miss me Mr Rockstar!” You had smirked at him; pulling him with you as you searched for a corkscrew for your wine.

“Of course I have!” He furrowed his eyebrows. “I was always fond of my pretty neighbour you know!” It was his turn to smirk as he leant against he counter, watching as you poured yourself a generous glass of wine.

“Yeah, whatever you say Healy!” You laughed; rolling your eyes at him teasingly.

“Hey! There’s something I want to show you!” Matty smiled brightly; taking your hand and pulling you through all your other old classmates until he came to an abrupt halt in another busy room. “Look who I’ve found!”

Matty stepped aside and that’s when you saw him properly for the first time since you were a teenager. Stood in the corner of the room, his conversation with George stopping when his eyes landed on you. The two of them beaming brightly before ascending on you for reacquaintance.

It was like time stood still and ohhh had time been good to Ross MacDonald. Standing at six foot four, dark hair styled to perfection and an impressive beard sat upon his handsome features. You couldn’t help but drink him in, he was simply divine not that you would ever tell him that. There was no way he would want you plus he probably had a girlfriend anyway, not a chance he didn’t have women lining up for him when he was as handsome as he was.

Turns out he thought the exact same when his eyes landed on you for the first time in years.

He let George hug you first; the bassist drinking in your features. You hadn’t changed a bit, your youthful looks still evident in the glow you emitted and probably more beautiful than he remembered. Finally reaching over to wrap his arms around you, Ross braved it and pressed a kiss to your cheek with a soft “You look beautiful darling.” Before standing up to full height next to George as you quickly fell into easy conversation.

You spent the next hour listening to all their tales of travelling the world, getting to play Glastonbury and how much they loved their fans and how they couldn’t believe they had fans all over the world. You could believe it. You’d never tell them but you secretly loved listening to them make all that noise as they were figuring out who they were during your youth. You couldn’t help but feel that warmth spread through you as you absorbed everything they were saying. Your noisy boys from next door had done all of this in the past two years. It was insane!

Within that hour Hann had appeared out of no where; very quietly in typical Adam fashion, greeted you with a warm hug and took Matty’s teasing like a champ before slinking off into the crowd with a promise of catching up properly when it was less noisy. George and Matty both quickly disappeared to smoke a joint at the back of Josh’s garden also in typical Matty and George fashion and then there were two.

After refilling your wine and grabbing another beer for himself, the pair of you slinked back to the corner you found him in. Where you stayed for the majority of the night; stood close with his hand on the small of your back as you leaned in close so you could hear one another. You were completely enamoured by your childhood friend; who had grown into this incredibly handsome, sweet and talented man who also seemed to not be able to draw his eyes away from you.

You exchanged numbers that night with promises of keeping in touch and in all honesty you weren’t expecting much to happen. The band weren’t home for very long and then they were going back to their very busy schedule; a tour to go on, an album to be released and you didn’t know when you’d see any of them next. You were expecting a text every few weeks, months if you were lucky from Ross or from any of them if you were being realistic. They weren’t going to have time for their old school friend.

Ross called you the morning after.

He called the very next morning and asked if you’d go for lunch with him.

You’ve been with him ever since.

You’ve loved him every day since.

You and Ross had been together just under six years and married for just under two when you found out. But it didn’t make it any less scary to the fact that you were going to bring another human into this world. The band were the biggest they’ve ever been, even with them being stuck at home due to a global pandemic but you were knew he was about to jet off again once the new album they were about to go and write was released. How were you going to look after a baby when the father of your child was on the other side of the world and you were left to figure it out as a single mother?

Sitting on the edge of the bathtub in your ensuite, you nervously played with your wedding rings as you waited for the timer to go off. Your husband downstairs, unaware that your lives might be about to change forever. You had been feeling a little under the weather the past week or so and had been nauseous the past couple of days, you didn’t even think to take a pregnancy test until your best friend had mentioned it, just to rule the possibility out.

The shrill beeping of the timer on your phone rang through your bathroom and had you snapping your head in the direction of where the test sat neatly next to your phone. You quickly turned it off. Taking a deep breath, you shakily reached for the test in front of you. Flipping it over in your hands before finally feeling brave; you turned it over, the breath you were unaware you had been holding making your whole body shudder as you let it go.

The words ‘8 weeks +’ glaring back at you.

A sob ripped through your chest, your vision immediately blurred thanks to the tears that were now rolling down your face. You and Ross were going to have a baby. You were going to have a child with your sweet husband who was down stairs cooking you chicken noodle soup because he thought you’d caught a stomach bug. The image of him downstairs innocently making you lunch, a tea towel slung over his shoulder and humming to himself had you sobbing even more. God you loved him so much.

After another five minutes of staring at the positive test, you managed to pull yourself together enough to make your way downstairs and see your husband. As imagined, you were greeted with his back to you, hunched over the stove with a tea towel flung over his shoulder as predicted and his ever growing hair falling in front of his eyes as he tested the soup.

“Baby?” You spoke softly.

Ross glanced quickly over his shoulder at the sound of your voice, a soft smile on his face as he took in your appearance. Joggers and a hoodie you had stolen from him many moons ago, before you were married, that you had claimed as your own and never returned to him. They looked better on you anyway.

“Baby. I’m not sick.”

“You’re feeling better?” He stood up taller; switching the hob off, reaching for you as you shook your head before nervously holding out the test.

Ross’s eyes flitted towards the test in your hand and back to your face and back again before taking it from you slowly. You watched his Adam’s apple bob as he eyed the ‘8 weeks +’ that was staring him straight in the face. God, did he even want kids right now? Your anxiety was starting to bubble away in your chest, an impending panic attack on the horizon the longer he didn’t say anything but in hindsight it was probably only ten seconds before his large frame came crashing into you, pulling you tightly into his chest.

Soft “I love you. I love you. I love you”s were chanted against the shell of your ear before he took your face in his hands and kissing you so deeply you felt your knees buckle underneath you; the only reason you were still standing being Ross was physically holding you up.

“We’re going to have a baby.” Ross’s voice soft as he held your face in his hands, looking at you like you hung the moon and the stars. Your teary eyes looked up at him, nodding before you were kissing him just like you did after your first date. With everything in you.

This was your person. Your man. Your lobster. He was it for you and you had magically created life with him. You didn’t realise you could love him anymore until you found out you were going to bring the most perfect little human into the world and you knew they would be perfect because they were half of your darling Ross.

Immediately booking an appointment with the midwife as soon as you could, you both just as quickly jumped into planning mode. Ordering books online, thinking of how you could reconfigure your spare bedroom into a nursery, colour palettes for said nursery, making lists of everything that were good and bad for the baby. You and your husband couldn’t think of anything else apart from the baby you had just discovered was in your tummy.

At your appointment; Ross held your hand tightly, repeatedly pressing kisses to your knuckles whilst the doctors ran tests and confirmed that you were further along than you both expected and that you’d be actually entering your second trimester in just under two weeks. Your eyes found your husbands instantly when they told you this information, his eyes already on yours and a knowing smirk making its way on to both of your faces when you realised.

Your little New Year’s baby.

Drunk on love and all the alcohol Matty had provided at his house to ring in the new year with you and his other nearest and dearest, you remember fucking in Matty’s bathroom way before midnight. Not for any particular reason other than you were insatiable around your husband, that and he looked so fucking good in the shirt he was wearing you couldn’t wait until you got home and then he fucked you into the early hours of the New Year once you got home and again when you woke up, reminding you just how much he loved you.

You weren’t exactly trying for a baby but you weren’t exactly safe all the time. But you had known Ross half of your life at this point and you had been with him for six. You trusted him with your life. If you were going to start a family with anyone on the planet, you wouldn’t want it to be with anyone else but the man who was holding your hand and holding back tears as he listened to the doctor. Now the reality of it had settled into your home, you discussed how you were going to tell the rest of the boys. Settling on the dinner party the Hann’s had organised for next week to celebrate Matty’s upcoming birthday as the base for said pregnancy reveal. You just had to figure out how you were going to do it now.

When the day finally arrived to see your friends; you couldn’t contain the cocktail of emotions that ran through you the entire day as you milled about the house, the excitement that you get to share the news with your best friends. The anxiety in the car on the way over to Adam and Carly’s; Ross’ hand laying across your thigh as you drove, how would the others react? Would they be happy for you? The nerves as Ross squeezed your hand reassuringly as you both waited to be greeted by the Hann’s; would the band hate you because you would now be his number one priority?

If you asked Ross, you had always been his first priority but the nerves evaporated the moment the door swung open and you were greeted by Adam and Carly who were beaming at the sight of you.

Stepping into their home; you exchanged greetings and allowed the guitarist to pull you into a sweet hug and press a kiss to your cheek before pulling back to look at your properly. He studied you for a moment but didn’t do much but flit his eyes towards Ross who had just finished saying hello and hugging his own wife before turning back to you and smiling.

“It’s lovely to see you darling. You’re glowing!”

You felt a soft blush creep across your cheeks at the compliment before allowing your husband to pull you into the living room where the troublesome twosome were giggling over something on George’s phone when they spotted you. Both of them whipping their heads up at the sight of you both, Matty immediately beamed at you before he jumped over George’s feet to get to you.

“Pretty girl! It’s been so long! How are you darling?! That husband of yours treating you right?” He smirked; pulling you into his arms.

“Yeah! He does alright!” You chuckled; returning his affection before the six of you made your way into the dining room ready for whatever amazing food the Hann’s had cooked up for you.

Your husband pulled your chair out for you just like he always did; he is and always had been the perfect gentleman, kissing his cheek in appreciation you tucked yourself in as he took his place next to you. George next to you on the end, Matty opposite you, leaving the Hann’s in between the lead singer and the bassist when they returned from the kitchen.

Politely declining the wine Matty was offering; which didn’t go unnoticed quietly by the singer. You were always his partner in crime when it came to devouring a bottle(s) of wine when you were together. Claiming that you were driving and you could feel a migraine on the horizon, Matty nodded sympathetically knowing more than anyone that he hated having to socialise when he had an headache and luckily he let it go.

You let out the breath you didn’t know you had been holding, rubbing your sweaty palm against the fabric of your dress, your heart beat calming as soon as Ross’ hand slipped into your own and bringing it to rest in his lap just as Adam and Carly started bringing out dinner plates. Thanking Adam as he placed yours in front of you; a happy sigh left you as the aroma filled your nose, immediately grinning up at the guitarist when you clocked he had made one of your favourite things. Truffle risotto.

As you all prepared to tuck into your food; a round of cheers echoed around the dining room as you wished Matty a happy birthday before digging in to your dinner. A moan of satisfaction arising from next to you; George groaning as he waved his spoon about for dramatic effect.

“Fuck! You might have even out cooked Honey and she’s basically Gordon fucking Ramsey!” George exclaimed; before turning to you. “This is good shit! Sorry Honey!”

You just shrugged. “Meh I’ll let you off Daniels but only cause this is fucking divine! This music thing ever goes tits up for you, you’ll come be my personal chef right Ads?!” Sending everyone into a fit of giggles as Adam blushed at your compliment.

As the night moved on to desserts and more wine (not for yourself of course) and a birthday cake for Matty. You couldn’t help the bright smile on your face as a blush of embarrassment flushed across Matty’s cheeks as you all sang Happy Birthday to him horrendously badly. The way he hid beneath his hands as you cheered loudly sent a rush of endorphins through you.

Then Adam and Carly stood up.

Your eyebrows furrowed; wondering they were stood there in what seemed to be a nervous manner. Their behaviour so unlike the usual calm and peaceful energy that they bring to the group.

“Ehhh…” Adam coughed. “We’ve got something to tell you all.”

There was a beat before Carly spoke.

“We’re having a baby!”

You head snapped towards your husband. Ross doing the same and finding your eyes immediately. Eyes swimming with emotion; yours threatening to spill as your heart rate picked up as you sat speechless, as the noise of Matty and George congratulating the couple surrounded you. Standing quickly; you manoeuvred yourself past your husband to hug your friends tightly. Whispering your congratulations to Carly before turning to grab Hann and pull him into the biggest embrace you could muster before rushing to Ross’ side again.

Your best friends were having a baby.

Your little bubba was going to get their own best friend.

Turning to your husband. You both knew.

The time was now.

“Right. Present time!” You announced.

“We said no presents pretty girl!” Matty groaned.

Rolling your eyes, you reached down the side of your chair to grab the gift bag, handing it over the table to you best friend. Hoping what was inside would override his annoyance of you ‘ignoring his stupid no gift rule’ knowing full well that it would especially knowing you were going to ask him a special question once the baby was born. Also when have you ever listened to Matty in your life!

“Open the card first!” You told him; almost giddy with nerves.

Ross intertwined his fingers with your own whilst Matty rolled his eyes, muttering something along the lines of “Yeah, alright bossy boots!” As he tore open the envelope. Your heart race increasing ten fold, you bit your lip knowing that in two seconds your friends were about to know your little secret.

“Read it out loud mate. Spent ages writing the perfect message for ya!” Ross chirped up, a smirk etched across his handsome face.

“Okay?” Matty quipped, pulling a face at his mate before opening the card.

“Happy Birthday Uncle Matty…” Matty’s head whipped up; his eyes meeting your own, which were already brimming with tears. Nodding in confirmation. Matty’s Adam’s apple bobbed as he choked on his own words. “I can’t wait to meet you. Lots of love. Baby MacDonald.”

Little noises of shock erupted around the dinner table; the biggest gasp coming from Carly who had matching tears streaming down her face when your eyes found hers. Immediately being pulled from your silent telepathic connection with her; you found yourself in George’s long arms, a kiss pressed firmly to the crown of your head, passing on his congratulations before you were yanked out of his grip and coming face to face Matthew.

Your curly haired best friend looked at you softly, his big brown eyes brimmed with tears as he took you by the shoulders. “You’re having a baby?” He whispered.

“I am.”

“You’re having a baby with Ross?!” Matty choked out a laugh.

“I am.” You giggled; taking his hands in your own.

“I’m going to be an Uncle?”

“You’re going to be the best Uncle!” You beamed.

Matty threw his arms around your neck, the sob that was brewing in his chest now out in full force as he cried into your neck as he profusely congratulated you amongst all the ‘thank yous’ for the best birthday gift he’s ever gotten before he spun in the direction of the Hann’s who were wrapped up in each other watching your interaction unfold as George hugged your husband.

Matty stepped towards Ross before and hugging him profusely before turning to Adam and Carly. Making your way back towards your husband and stepping under Ross’ arm, you watched as Matty cried in Adam’s arms. You felt an overwhelming sense of warmth as you listened to George and Ross talk about the baby... sorry babies and how excited he was that your little family were getting to new members. How excited he was to get a new bestie when Matty called out the need for celebration and called for the boys to have a drink.

Adam hugged you on his way to the kitchen. Soft whispers of “Congratulations. You’re kid is going to be the luckiest with you two as parents. You’re going to be the best mam darling!”  He kissed your cheek sweetly before being dragged away by Matty to do whatever the hell he was planning. Calls of “Wetting the babies’ heads!” as he bounced around the kitchen.

Making your way over to Carly; you wrapped her up in your arms, the two of you just holding each other for a tender moment before falling into quiet conversation. Smiles that never left either of your faces. You were both going to have babies with your sweet, talented husbands and any sense of doubt or fear you had seemed to shrink away. Your worrying mind settling knowing that you had Carly by your side as you watched the four boys cheers in the kitchen.

Your heart thumping in your chest as you watched Adam and Ross hug each other tightly, speaking closely with one another before they both cast their eyes in your direction, their eyes lighting up and their smiles bright at the sight of their girls. Yeah. You were going to be just fine.

#ross macdonald fic #ross macdonald imagine #ross macdonald fanfiction #ross macdonald x reader #ross macdonald #the 1975 #the 1975 imagine #the 1975 fic #matty healy imagine #george daniel #george daniel imagine #adam hann #adam hann imagine

[jpitha]

Between the Black and Gray 24

First / Previous / Next

After her meal - Fen had no idea what the local time was yet on Minaren, so it could have been breakfast, lunch, or dinner for all she knew - she said her goodbyes to Zhe and told her where she was docked. "I'm leaving in a day or two, so come and find me before that if you want a job." Fen winked and Zhe's fur rippled a blush.

As they walked away, Fen wondered why she did that. Zhe was cute enough she supposed, but she was looking at hiring her, she probably shouldn't try and date a future employee. Besides, the hole in her heart Ma-ren left hasn't healed over.

Minaren was a beautiful station and the head of the K'laxi governemnt. What it wasn't was a good place to source a crew for a mercenary group. If Zhe signed on, that was still only one other person. The manual for her frigate - she'd still have to name it - said that a crew of four was the bare minimum for safe operations. Where was she going to find three other people who wanted to sign on with a new merc with a lot of money and not a lot of jobs?

Gord had mentioned that most stations and starbases had a Basement - not literally, but sometimes yes. The name came from an illicit bazar in the mainenance tunnels of an old human orbital in Sol that had been inhabited for millennia. Somewhere that people weren't and so the kind of deals that happened out of the prying eyes of the public and the authorities took place. Finding a place like that as an outsider was tough, but Fen had a few ideas.

She walked around a bit until she came upon a less developed section of forest. The deeper she went, the less she saw the uniform of K'laxi officials and more the plain clothes of people who saw Minaren as a job, or better yet, an opportunity. After about twenty minutes she found what she was looking for.

The dive bar had a sign that was hand painted in the raised and rounded K'laxi script. She pushed open the door and stepped in and waiting a moment for her eyes to adjust to the light. The place smelled of spices and old frying oil and just a twinge of ethanol. K'laxi could drink alcohol like humans, but it didn't affect them the same way. K'laxi didn't get drunk like a human would, but alcohol would cause them to slow down and cool. Too much would induce hibernation. They were originally a forested mammalian type animal deep in their past and there is evidence that their ancient ancestors hibernated when food was scarce. Their planet rotated without a wobble and without a tilt like Earth, so they didn't have seasons per-se. Walking around, Fen could see ears slowly swivel to listen to her approach and some of the more 'sober' K'laxi glowered at her approach.

The bartender put down the mug he was drying - didn't matter where you were, there was always glassware to clean and put away - and in thickly accented Colonic said "Friend, I think you are lost." It was without malice, but it also brooked no discussion.

Fen smiled and flashed a toothy smile. The bartender unconsciously flinched as the aggression and his ears flattened. "Sorry my friend, I don't think I'm lost. I'm looking to get a glass of vikolen and nobody out there-" she gestured towards the more public part of the station "-seems to be able to make one worth a damn. Any chance you can help a girl out?" Once when a K'laxi trader had come passing through home, she had remarked how Fen's Gen'mil accent sounded thickly of the northern regions that her familial line originated from. Back on K'lax it was a source of derision for some. She sounded like a bumpkin supposedly. Fen knew as well as anyone how to turn that to her advantage.

At the rapid fire greeting and drink order in K'inmar the bartender's face flashed through at least three emotions. He went from the blank face of trying to steer a lost tourist away to surprise and then to suspicion. The only humans he knew that could speak K'inmar that well were in the intelligence corps and they did not order vikolen. It was supposed to be nearly undrinkable to most humans. Not poisonous, just bad tasting. "You want a vikolen?" He didn't even try and hide his surprise.

"Sure do. Haven't had one since I left home, and every time I tried to order one, I was told they didn't have the ingredients or that nobody ever ordered them. I figure here, on Minaren, I had better be able to get a classic vikolen." Fen's little show was gathering a small audience. Not even K'laxi ordered vikolen regularly. It was more a stunt cocktail that was for youths ordering their first drink on a dare, or for the elderly who took it as a tonic.

The bartender's tail twitched. "You know what? Fine. It's been a while since we had a show here. Two Stars, up front."

Fen took out the cash and laid it on the counter, and sat down. The bartender scooped up the money and reached under for a wood and stone mug. He dropped in some herbs and began to muddle them into the bottom while he hummed to himself. Fen smiled at the realization that he was humming the incantation to Olenar - the old god of drinks and celebrations. He was making the vikolen right. Fen joined in on the second verse when he added the spirit. The eldest in her familial line back home drank vikolen and everyone knew the song. The bartender flicked his ears in amusement, but didn't stop humming. Next was the alcohol, a clear strong liquor flavored with bitter herbs. Finally, clear water and a drop of blue Vik essence. He placed the drink in front of Fen with two hands, just as the song finished. "There. A vikolen my matriarch would be proud of. Be honored, friend"

Fen took the drink in two hands, as it was given and lifted it to her nose. As she brought it closer, the woodsy, bitter smell filled her nostrils. It reminded her of her Matriarch, Dem'iril as she would sit at the head of the long wooden table - one of the only things from K'lax they had - and she would tell stories to the kids, explaining the world. She took a sip.

The warmth spread down her throat and into her stomach. The bitter flavors activated the far back of her tongue, and she was able to taste the dryness of the drink. As she swallowed, she breathed in again slightly to get the afterflavors. She placed the mug on the bar and sighed happily. "Friend, you would make Olenar themselves happy with that draught. Nicely done."

The bartender stood back, his mouth slightly open. "Y-you drank it. You drank it like my matriarch."

Fen's head tilts slightly. "Of course I did. It was excellently made. It would be foolish to waste it."

At that, Fen turned. The patrons of the bar were all staring at her. One of them - a young kid, probably barely old enough to be in here - spoke up. "You're... not K'laxi in disguise, are you?"

Fen laughed, and that broke the spell. Everyone laughed along with her, including the bartender. "No, I was raised as an orphan by the Gem'mil line, far from here."

"Gen'mil?" One of the elder K'laxi at the bar and turned, his eyes rheumy from age and drink. "Gen'mil is a fine family, with an ancient history. They've fallen on hard times. It's a shame." His ears flattened.

"They will rise again, friend. It is the way of the world. Families rise and fall. So long as we still live, we will prevail." Fen took another large sip of the drink. It was even better the second time.

"Hah." The bartender's ears faced forward, and his fur rippled. "You may look human." He poked Fen's chest. "But you have the heart of K'laxi. You're always welcome to drink here."

"Well then, I think we celebrate the discovery of a new bar with a round of drinks for everyone!" Over the roar of the crowd, Fen reached into her pocket and took a fistfull of Stars out and slid them to the bartender. "Whatever anyone wants to drink, until the money's gone." She looked back at the crowd, and then to the bartender again. "Or until you think everyone's had enough."

The money disappeared and the bartender nodded. "Looks like I have my work cut out for me then. Excuse me." He stepped away to handle the flood of orders that came in. Fen sipped her drink again and smiled.

It turned out that it was already evening when Fen showed up, and the money lasted deep into the night. By the end, Fen was helping the bartender - his name was Ullen - with handing out drinks and singing along in the endless drinking songs that started up. She only had the one vikolen, the whole night, but that was more than enough. She felt light on her feet and floaty. The herbs were slightly intoxicating to humans when combined with the alcohol.

Late, late into the night, Fen and Ullen had chased the last of the stragglers out and he had gratefully locked the door. Fen was behind the counter taking another load of glassware out of the washer, and reading another tray of dirty glasses to wash. "Everyone's out?"

"Finally, thank the Ancestors. Thank's for the help, Fen."

Fen laughed. "Don't worry about it, Ullen. I caused the ruckus."

"Speaking of which." Ullen had a smaller, though still decently sized stack of Stars and he slid it to Fen. "This is what's left of your money, you gave me enough to have everyone drink free for almost three days."

Fen slid the money back. "Take it, Ullen. Think of it as an investment in your success... and also payment."

Ullen's ears swung back and forth. "Payment? For what?"

"Information. Can you tell me where the nearest entrance to the Basement is?"

Ullen crossed his arms and tried to look intimidating, but his tail swished back and forth, giving away his amusement. "I suppose you don't mean where I keep the extra Olenian herbs."

Fen said nothing.

Ullen sighed and walked over to the door, verifying it was locked. "Come with me." He walked behind the bar and bent down. He lifted up a slightly wet anti-slip mat and there was a silver ring inset into the floor. He pulled up and twisted at the same time, and there was a hiss and a square meter of floor rose up until it was two meters tall, supported my beams. A lift.

"You have an entrance to the Basement here? Come on Ullen. That's too much." Fen approached the lift, but did not step inside.

"I promise Fen, it's on the up and up. Honestly, when you first came in, I figured you were an out-of-your-depth merc looking for a Basement entrance, but I had no idea you were... who you are." His fur rippled again. "I promise, it's real. We've always been friendly with those... underneath. Head on down, and walk spinward. You'll come to the entrance. This week's code is "Tep'ra'fel is not immortal."

Fen's breath caught in her throat. "Tep'ra'fel was the K'laxi word for the Human Empress. 'The undeniable' was the most accurate translation. K'lax has been a vichy state of the human empire for nearly half a millennium. "That's... quite a codeword."

Ullen smiled with his teeth. "That's how you know it's a good one. If you're afraid to say it, you don't need the Basement."

Fen stepped onto the lift and it slid down into the floor.

#humans are deathworlders #humans are space orcs #sci fi writing #humans are space oddities #humans and aliens #jpitha #writing #humans and ai #humans are space capybaras #humans are space australians #Between the black and gray

[sailtomarina]

An Exchange of Pretty Faces

Hermione squealed as the Beauxbatons’ carriage appeared on the horizon, the powder blue globe led by a fleet of impressive Abraxan steeds that flew through the sky. She waited outside with a crowd of her fellow students, all of them bundled within their fur-lined red robes to stave off the winter chill.

“Hermy-own-ninny, shall I lift you on my shoulders?” Viktor teased from where he stood behind her, his large hands coming to rest on your shoulders.

“You will not!”

His chuckle caused a flush to rise along her neck and up to her cheeks. Her first and oldest friend at Durmstrang, Viktor’s teasing about her height had only increased as they got older and the difference between them widened.

“Maybe these French students vill match your stature better, kote.”

She turned to smack him on the arm, while he pretended to cower in fear at her harmless attack. Hermione ignored the glares of those around them. Jealousy and discrimination were familiar enemies at the school, something Hermione had learned from her very first year. Pureblooded ideologies ran rampant in Durmstrang’s halls, extending from students to teachers to the very foundations of the institute.  

Muggle-borns were not accepted at Durmstrang, and, normally, Hermione would have attended Hogwarts. She had been born and raised in her early years in England, but a terrible accident left her orphaned and in the care of a previously unknown magical ancestor, Hector Dagworth-Granger. The renown potioneer took to the northern territories for his research, bringing young Hermione with him.

Hermione wanted to thank whatever gods and circumstances made it so that she caught the eye of Viktor Krum, a prodigy Quidditch flier who didn’t take kindly to discrimination. It certainly wasn’t the dangerous sport that brought them together—she couldn’t stand flying and spent more time worrying about possible injuries than enjoying his games. They did share interests in Transfiguration and Ancient Runes, which was more than most of the fans who catered for Viktor’s interest could say for themselves.

“I hear some of their students count Veela in their ancestry. Isn’t that fascinating?” Hermione gushed, wondering if she’d be able to spot any of the likely suspects. Would they sprout wings, or might the Durmstrang students all be in danger of their infamous beauty?

“Perhaps, though I doubt that vill help them vin in the end.” 

Viktor referred to the entire reason for Beauxbatons journey to Durmstrang. Their month-long visit was the first of its kind in what was meant to be a friendly exchange of cultures. He had listened with amusement when Hermione likened it to Muggle exchange students. Instead of staying in a fellow student’s home, the Beauxbatons students would stay within the institute itself.

She jumped up and down trying to see over the people in front of her to catch a glimpse of the students exiting the carriage. From what she could tell, their uniforms matched the light blue hue of the carriage. She was relieved to see that someone had warned them about the time of year and made sure their cloaks were also lined with lovely white fur. Even from where she stood, she could tell they still shivered.

It wasn’t until much later after they’d followed the delegation into the castle’s banquet hall that Hermione got a chance to see one of the students far closer than she would have expected. Despite Viktor’s constant presence, she still found herself next to one of the few empty spots at their table.

“Is this seat taken?” She startled at the musical voice belonging to a boy she could easily imagine as a descendent of Veela. 

His hair, nearly white and of the finest texture she had ever seen on a boy, grew long and was tied together with a fine gold cord, allowing the ends to trail over the front of his shoulder. She might have been tempted to describe his features as too sharp, but instead felt caught by the lightness of his eyes, something else she had never before seen. They were the soft grey of her snowy owl’s wings.

“Ne. Have a seat,” answered Viktor from her other side.

The strange, beautiful boy dipped his head in gratitude and slid into place. Hermione’s face burned as she realized Viktor answered to cover her awkward staring.

“Excuse me, but are you Viktor Krum?” His eyes shone with curiosity as he looked past Hermione.

Great. Was he just another one of Viktor’s fans?

“I am.” They shook hands over her plate. Hermione had half a mind to smack hers atop theirs straight into her mashed potatoes.

“And you? What is your name?” Those pale orbs now looked curiously at her, and she was glad she hadn’t given into her impulse.

“My name’s Hermione Gr—”

“Hermione? Like in Shakespeare, or Homer?” Her name rolled off his tongue like a pleasant melody.

Her jaw dropped. This was the first time anyone had ever, ever asked about her name, and not to joke about the length, but from actual recognition.

“Shakespearean Hermione, from A Winter’s Tale. I’m surprised you knew!”

“Well, Hermione of A Winter’s Tale, I’m Draco Malfoy.”

“Draco, like the constellation?”

This time it was his turn to smile in delight at her connection. “The same! My family has a tradition of taking names from the stars.”

“Draco is a strong name,” Viktor said approvingly, causing the other boy to noticeably preen.

Hermione mustered up her courage. “I hope you don’t mind me asking…”

“Ask away.” Draco tentatively sipped at his borscht, before humming and taking several more spoonfuls.

“…but are you, by any chance, related to any Veela?”

Viktor snorted at the nonplussed look that crossed Draco’s face.

“No. Why do you ask?”

“Well, it’s just that, you’re so…” Hermione’s voice trailed off as she realized how silly what she was about to say sounded.

“What Hermy-own-ninny means to say is that you are very pretty. Vhite hair, vhite skin, sharp face,” Viktor elaborated for her, each item in his list a nail driving into her back.

“Oh! I, uh, no. As far as I know, there are no Veela in the Malfoy line.” She noticed Draco had a habit of playing with the ends of his hair. He did so now and when he’d first asked to sit next to her. “Thank you, though. I think you’re pretty, too.”

Rather than sound like the sort of automatic response one gave as a compliment for a compliment, he sounded sincere, but before Hermione could say anything in response, his next words wiped the smile right off of her face.

“What did you say your last name was, again?”

Usually, when someone asked for her family name, it wasn’t out of some passing curiosity to know her full name. It was because they cared, and cared greatly, about her lineage. They wanted to know if she came from good wizarding stock, to assess her worth in comparison to theirs.

“Granger. Hermione Granger.”

And there it was: the forehead wrinkle, the faraway gaze as the listener sifted through their knowledge to pinpoint anything that might signify importance. 

“Are you related to the Dagworth family?”

Now that did catch her by surprise. “Hector Dagworth-Granger is my great uncle.”

Draco’s eyes were piercing in their recognition. “You’re the Mudblood heir they spoke about in the newspapers.”

This wasn’t the first time Hermione had heard the derogatory phrase, but hearing it still cut her deeply now as much as it did the first time. She took a deep breath to calm her nerves and reply, but Viktor beat her to the punch.

“Take that back, Malfoy,” he said, his voice shaking in fury on her behalf.

She registered surprise on Draco’s face, and saw the way his eyes flickered between the two of them in suspicion. “Are you two…dating?”

“Ve are not dating. Ve are friends, and vot you said is inexcusable. Apologize now or you can forget ever talking to us again,” Viktor insisted, his hand coming up to rest reassuringly on her back.

Draco stayed silent a bit longer as he stared at them both. He had already shifted slightly away from her, as if afraid they’d touch elbows like they already had multiple times from the start of their conversation. He opened his mouth, only to shut it once more.

That was enough of a message for Viktor.

The Bulgarian stood and held a hand out to Hermione, which she took without hesitation. Before she followed him away, however, she turned one last time.

“For what it’s worth, Draco, it was nice speaking to you. I hope you enjoy your time here.” She smiled sadly at the way he continued to look at her, his brow furrowed and lips tightly pressed together.

Perhaps, in another life, under different circumstances.

She hurried after Viktor, already intent on convincing him to finish writing his Transfiguration essay with her.

Grey eyes that shifted with his mood from pale ice to stormy clouds followed them all the way across the hall until they exited. Draco turned back to his plate, soup now cold and unappetizing in the absence of what he had hoped would be a couple of new friends. The plates in front of where they’d sat had already disappeared as if they’d never been there at all.

He was lucky Madam Maxime hadn’t heard their exchange, or she would have been livid. His own mother would have disapproved of his blatant display, one she would have deemed beneath their station despite her own husband’s use of the term. That was a large part of why he’d been sent to Beauxbatons Academy after all. As his mother would put it, it was long past time the Malfoys and Blacks put away their prejudices and looked to the future. Like a bigot, he had reverted to old insults.

He would try to find Viktor and Hermione and apologize like he should have done immediately from the start. Draco hoped they would listen. He wanted to ask Viktor to fly with him. He wanted to learn more about Hermione, no matter her last name. Did she like to read, like he did? Was her hair sentient? Its large mass was what had called him over to their part of the table in the first place.

Draco hummed as he finished the last of the pelmeni he’d scooped onto his plate. It was decided. He would look for them at breakfast the next day, and all would be well.

WC 1752

DHRMonth Prompt: Week 4 - Alternate Universe, September 25 - Beauxbatons/Durmstrang AU

Cross-posted to AO3

This prompt was super fun to imagine and write! I've said this before, I know, but I really want to read a longer story of this setting now. Why did Hector insist Hermione attend Durmstrang? Was it really out of affection or to keep her close for convenience? Or was it for another reason? Does Viktor actually harbor unrequited feelings for Hermione? And will Draco obtain their friendship like he hopes?

#dramione month #dramionemonth #dramione #dhr fanfiction #harry potter fanfiction #draco malfoy x hermione granger #hermione granger #draco malfoy #viktor krum

[scarletsaphire]

Danny knew that he wasn't supposed to follow the wisps, but when you're a child, lost and alone in the forest, you don't have much of a choice.

---

I took a small break from @phicphight but I'm back with a fill for @jackdaw-sprite! The prompt I used will be at the bottom.

There were lots and lots of rules that Danny needed to follow; don't try and use the stove by yourself, don't wander into the lab without supervision, always wear his welding mask when helping his mom or dad with their work, and most importantly of all, do not, under any circumstances, follow the will o' wisps.

His parents had spent a very long time hammering that rule into his head, ever since he was a baby. "They may look friendly," his mom would say, as they cuddled on a sofa watching Brave . "It may seem like they're trying to help her. But they are not. If they hadn't appeared, than none of this would've happened in the first place."

"They're going to be beautiful," his dad had said, while hammering a sheet of metal into the shape he needed. Danny was standing on the stool next to him, a significantly smaller, less effective hammer clasped between his tiny hands. "They might even be the most beautiful thing you've ever seen. But that's a lie. They just want to trick you, and take you away from us. You can't trust them, just like you can't trust any ghost. Do you understand me, Danno?"

Danny had nodded, and his dad had ruffled his hair just like he always did. "You're such a smart kid, you know that? I wish I'd had half the brains when I was five!"

Now, lost deep enough in the forest that Danny couldn't see the sky, Danny didn't feel all that smart.

He hadn't meant to wander off; the rest of his family was still somewhere in the park, setting up the picnic blanket and basket for lunch. Jazz had been playing hide and seek with him, but knowing her, she was using his absence to read the book she’d brought. That was okay; as long as Danny hid well, they’d all have to find him eventually.

Danny had thought hiding in the trees would've been a good idea; he’d be able to see everyone, but they wouldn’t see him. There was the added bonus of being able to climb a tree, which was always a plus. He'd needed to go a few trees deep to find a good one he could climb. By then, he'd seen a flower, a lovely soft purple color that he thought would match his mom's eyes. But if he got his mom a flower, he had to get his dad one too, cause that was only fair, and there was a pretty yellow one only a little further in...

The next thing he knew, he'd been stumbling around the trees, tripping over protruding roots and dead logs that could've been there for centuries. He had no idea which way he'd come from, or which way led back to the park, and all he really wanted to do was sit down and cry.

His bottom lip had just started to quiver when the will o' wisp first appeared.

His father had been right; it was beautiful, a kaleidoscope of colors all mushed into one creature, constantly shifting and flickering in the air, as if someone had taken a chunk of the northern lights and left it right here, in a random park in Illinois just for him to look at.

Danny recognized it instantly. He should’ve looked away; he knew what the rule was. Do not, under any circumstances, follow the will o' wisps. But...

Danny glanced back up at the sky, completely covered by the canopy above him. He couldn't tell if the sun was starting to set or not. He had no way of knowing just how close to, or even how far past lunch time it really was, but by the growling of his stomach, he was fairly certain it had been a little while at least.

Surely it was better to follow the wisp than sit here and starve, right? It wasn't like they could lead him into any more danger than he was already in.

Danny took one, hesitant step towards the wisp. It stayed exactly where it was, circling through a dozen different colors. Danny took another step.

It did not disappear when he got close, like it did in the movies. It hovered inches in front of his face, close enough that if he just stretched his hand forward, he would be able to touch it. This close, he could see that he'd been wrong to compare it to the northern lights; those were probably beautiful, sure, but it didn't hold a candle to this.

It was like peering through water at the bottom of a pond, if the only thing on the other side was a rainbow. It rippled and flowed from one vivid color into the next, constantly changing and shifting and yet never once was it muddied. The temptation was too strong, and Danny couldn’t help but reach out. It was only then, just as his fingers were about to brush against the top of whatever it had instead of a head, that it disappeared, reappearing a few feet away.

Danny didn't hesitate this time. He was off as fast as his little legs could carry him, running towards the wisp. This time, the roots did not catch his feet, the weeds did not scratch his legs, and the logs did not break his stride.

He chased the wisp through the woods with reckless abandon, running as fast as he possibly could. Danny needed to touch that wisp, needed to catch it between his hands like a lightning bug. He didn't know why, he just knew he needed to know. He needed to know how it felt beneath his fingers.

He was so focused on the will o' wisp that he didn't notice when the ground beneath him became more level, when the sunlight streamed through the leaves in larger gaps. He didn't even notice that he'd emerged out of the forest until the wisp disappeared for the last time, and he couldn't find where it had reappeared.

Jazz grabbed a hold of his arm, and the memory of the will o' wisp was knocked out of his head all at once.

"There you are!" she said, dragging Danny over to where the picnic blanket had been laid out. "Mom, I found him!"

His mom and dad rushed over to him, pulling him into a hug. "We've been worried sick about you, kiddo!" his dad said, pulling away to look at his face. "We've been calling your name for fifteen minutes now!"

"You must've wandered pretty far into the forest, huh?" his mom said with a smile and a laugh. "What were you doing in there?"

Danny looked back at the woods. He hoped to see the wisp among the trees, one last glimpse of the beautiful, cascading colors. All he saw was the browns and greens the forest always had.

"I was climbing trees," he lied.

He was quiet for the rest of the day. His parents never bothered to ask why.

--

Danny was eight when he next saw the wisps. He'd almost forgotten about them entirely, so many years had gone by. He probably would have, if his parents warnings didn’t serve as near constant reminders.

He was supposed to be in class, but he wasn’t. Dash had been picking on him again, and the teacher had looked the other way, just like she always did. That was normal. Most days, Danny dealt with it.

Unlike most days, however, Danny didn't have Tucker to help distract him; his friend was home sick with some kind of stomach bug, so for this day and probably the following week, Danny was going to be all by himself.

Danny thought his solution made perfect sense. He’d waited for the teacher and Dash to turn their attention away, and slipped out into the hallway. He knew he wasn't supposed to be wandering around without permission, but it was probably fine. Dash wasn't supposed to be insulting him and his parents like that, at least not according to the signs on the walls everywhere, so Danny deserved a little bit of rule breaking here and there. It was only fair.

This staircase went to the roof, supposedly, but since he didn't have the key, and neither did any of the other staff as far as he knew, it was pretty much just a dead end. This worked perfectly for Danny's purposes; no one would come up here for any reason, which meant he had as much time as he wanted. At least, until someone realized he was gone, but that probably wouldn’t be for a while.

Now the problem was what he was going to do. He hadn’t thought to grab his backpack before sneaking away, so he didn’t have all of the random goodies he’d accumulated over the past few months. He didn’t have any homework or studying that he could do, not without his worksheets, and even if he did, he probably wouldn’t; that was something Jazz would do, and Jazz was boring.

Danny dug through the pockets of his jacket and jeans and came out with two halves of a purple crayon, a small container of extra pencil lead for a mechanical pencil, and a form he was supposed to give to his parents last week that he’d forgotten about.

It looked like he would be drawing.

He was halfway into a doodle of some kind of space monster eating a planet when he saw the light out of the corner of his eye. At first, he'd thought it was the door opening; the light was soft and natural, like sunlight would be, but that didn't make any sense; no one had come up the stairs, Danny was sure of it, and there was no way anyone was on the roof; they’d need to climb the side of the school, which was way too much work.

It was once he looked up that he recognized it: a will o' wisp, hovering above the stairs, just out of reach.

The crayon fell out of his hand. It was just as beautiful as he remembered it being, just as ethereal, and completely out of place with the bleak surroundings of the elementary school staircase.

Danny didn't bother packing up his things. He left his drawing unfinished on the floor, the pencil lead spread out against the tile. He climbed to his feet as if in a trance, hand outstretched, just like he remembered doing in the forest three years ago. Just like it had done then, it let Danny get close enough to almost touch it, close enough that he could almost feel it against his finger tips, and then it was gone, floating above the landing just below him.

He hesitated. The first time he saw the wisps, he'd been a dumb, scared, lost child, who didn't have any other options. It was different this time; Danny was older, and smarter, and most importantly, he wasn't

It was weird, for the will o' wisp to appear here, of all places. In all of the stories Danny had heard, either from books or movies or from his parents, the wisps had always appeared to people who were lost, or in danger, and (depending on who was telling the story) they would help or hinder whatever traveler happened to stumble across them. Danny wasn't in danger or lost, unless you counted Dash being mean, but if that was the case, the wisps would've appeared years ago.

Everything about the situation was wrong. Danny knew that it was all wrong, and that he should park his butt back on the floor and finish his doodle. He also knew that if he didn't investigate now, than he would never get the chance to investigate again.

The doodle could wait; it wasn't that good anyway.

With the initial shock and awe of seeing it gone, Danny approached the wisp cautiously, making sure to watch his step. The wisp stayed in place, glinting in the artificial school lights just as it had in the sunlight three years before. It was only once Danny had landed solidly on the landing, with his hand outstretched to the wisp, that it vanished, reappearing on the next landing down.

It brought Danny down to the bottom floor before disappearing. That was weird; It hadn't brought him anywhere, but it was definitely gone. Unless...

Danny pushed the door separating the stairs and the hallway open just a crack, then breathed a sigh of relief. The wisp danced in the hallway, just a few doors down from where he currently was. With a quick look glance for any wondering teachers, Danny was out in the hallway, chasing after the wisp again.

The chase didn't last much longer. He'd barely gone halfway down the hallway when it disappeared for good this time, leaving Danny standing right outside his own class's door.

"But-" Danny started, talking to empty air. He shook his head instead of continuing his question; he wouldn't have gotten an answer, even if the wisp was still here.

He opened the door to the classroom and slipped back amidst the students. As far as he could tell, nobody noticed he was missing.

The intercom crackled to life barely two minutes later. "Attention teachers and students. There is an active shooter inside of the building. This is not a drill. Stay calm and commence lock down procedures. I repeat, this is not a drill."

The class immediately panicked.

(Later that night, safely in a chair at home, Danny would overhear the news on the television. "It had been lucky that the shooter hadn't injured anyone, as a children's drawing was found next to the point of entry," the reporter was saying. "In the future, the Casper Elementary School will make certain that the roof access door is locked from the inside, hopefully preventing an issue like this from arising again.")

---

Fires were no rare occasion at Fentonworks. Between their positively abysmal cooking skills, the amount of faulty inventions that were tested in the laboratory, and the Fen-Toaster which was probably a violation of the Geneva conventions, the Fenton's were single-handedly keeping the fire hydrant companies in business. The fires were never a big deal, hardly more than a scorch mark on the ground or wall. They were always caught early, and proper fire safety had been ingrained into Jazz and Danny since before they could walk.

This fire was different. It hadn't been caught early, if the smoke that woke Danny up was anything to go off of, and it certainly wasn't something that could be tamed by a standard fire extinguisher.

Danny held the back of his hand up to his door. It wasn't hot; that was a good sign.

The hallway wasn't on fire, at least not that Danny could see, but he couldn't see much through the thick smoke that clogged the air. He fumbled his way towards the staircase, eyes squinted against the burn.

"Danny!" It was his mother's voice, raspy and punctuated with a cough.

He turned back around towards their bedroom, and could just barely make out the silhouette of both her and his father. Before he knew it, they had reached him, pulling him into a quick hug. 

"We need to get Jazz and get out of here!" his dad said.

"Right here," Jazz said, her blurry figure joining the rest of them.

"Good. Good." His mother's relief was palpable. "We need to get going."

She was right. They didn't have much time, and the fire was only going to grow worse as time went on. They needed to get out of Fentonworks, and fast. The front door was the easy answer; they could all get there with their eyes closed. Danny should've been following her down the stairs, as fast as his aching lungs could carry him. Instead, he found himself reaching out and stopping her descent.

"We can't go that way." He was certain of it. If the door was clear, than the colorful light, distorting through the smoke in the air, wouldn't be at the end of the hallway.

"Danny, we-"

He didn't wait for an answer, taking off towards the end of the hallway. The wisp was there to help , he was certain of it, just like it had helped him those times when he was younger. They'd proved that they were here to help, and despite his parents' warning, Danny trusted them.

His family was close behind, calling his name between coughs, but he didn't turn around.

The wisp lead him into the bathroom, which was surprisingly smoke free. With the wisp hovering in the window as it was, it wasn't hard to see why; the window had been left open, and the door closed. The rest of the family funneled into the room while Danny approached the window. Peering out, he could see the reason the wisp must have brought them here; his parents' old mattress, just recently replaced for a new, upgraded one, lay on the ground directly beneath the window. It wouldn't be the comfiest fall in the world, but they wouldn't get hurt. Probably.

Danny didn't think about it. He blocked out the protests of his parents and sister, heaving himself up over the windowsill and out into the clean, cool air. The fall was quick, not enough time for him to regret the decision even as his stomach flipped. The mattress did not completely cushion his fall - he'd probably be dealing with bruises for the next week, maybe more - but he was able to roll off the mattress and onto his feet without an issue.

The wisp was gone when he looked back up at the bathroom window, replaced with the worried faces of his family. He tried to shout up at them, but all he managed to do was trigger a coughing fit. Instead, he waved, beckoning them to follow. They seemed to understand. Jazz came down first, letting out a ear piercing shriek on her way down. She was grabbing onto Danny's shoulders mere seconds after she'd landed.

"What were you thinking?" she cried, shaking him back and forth. "You can't just run off like that! You could've gotten yourself killed!"

"But we're fine," Danny argued.

"And we would've been just as fine if we had gone downstairs! And you wouldn't have given all of us a heart attack and made us jump out of the window!"

"We can talk about this later." His mother had joined the conversation, and his father had just landed on the mattress with a big puff. "And we will be talking about this later-" she narrowed a glare at Danny "-but right now we need to make sure the fire departments been called. You two run over to the Pallay's house to borrow their phone, we'll see if the Kennywood's will let us."

Danny and Jazz nodded their head, before taking off around the corner. The moment they were out of earshot, Jazz started again. "What were you thinking?"

He didn't have an answer. What was he supposed to say, that he followed the wisp? Jazz wouldn't understand; she didn't believe in ghosts at all, and even if she did, she wouldn't trust them, not like Danny did. Luckily, he didn't need an answer.

The contorted, melted in mess of a front door was answer enough.

---

"It's a bummer that it doesn't work," Tucker said, making himself comfortable on the one empty spot of workbench. "Your parents have been working on it for like. Forever."

"Yeah they're not happy," Danny said, staring at the shell of what should've been a portal. "Jazz had to basically drag them out of the house today, they haven't left at all this week."

"I don't blame them," Sam said, raising the camera around her neck to her eye. "At least it looks cool, right?"

"I guess so," Danny agreed.

Sam hummed. "It doesn't photograph well."

"I can try and get another light on?" Danny offered.

Sam shook her head. "That's not the problem. It's just too... static. I think it'd look nicer with one of you in front of it."

"Not it!" Tucker called quickly, lifting his hand to his nose. "Too slow!"

Danny, who was midway through the same motion, lowered his hand back down with a sigh. "Fine, I'll do it. But I'm putting on my suit! It's still a dangerous machine, even if it doesn't work right."

Sam nodded while Danny got into the suit "I think it'll look better anyway. More thematic than jeans and a t-shirt. Though, maybe without the sticker of your dad's face."

Danny's face heated up as she removed the sticker. "I didn't put it there."

"Yeah, yeah, get in front of the portal," Sam said.

Danny listened, standing just beyond the lip of the metal. A chill traveled down his spine; there was something... disconcerting about it all. He knew what was actually behind him; he knew the portal almost as well as his parents did, years and years of talks about it over dinner, family time in the lab spilling over blueprints that should've been far above his comprehension. He knew that, when it lay dormant and dead like this, it was nothing more than metal and machinery, just like every other thing in the lab.

And yet he could feel it's exhale, cold and sour on the back of his neck. He could see stray wires on the corners of his vision, and he couldn't help but see them as teeth, closing in around him. This was the portal to the afterlife, supposed to bridge the gap between life and death itself. Maybe his parents were wrong; maybe it did work, and they just couldn't see it. Maybe he was balanced on the edge of death itself, and one more step, one slip of his foot, and he'd go falling backwards into whatever endless nothingness the afterlife had for a living soul.

Sam's camera clicked, chasing away to foreboding feeling in an instant. She grabbed the polaroid, shaking it out, before squinting at it. "Something's still missing."

Tucker leaned over her shoulder. "Yeah, it still feels kinda bland."

"Maybe you should go into it more?" Sam asked, glancing up at Danny, then back down at the picture.

"I don't know..." Danny said. "I don't think its safe."

"Come on, it'll be fine," Sam said dismissively. "Your parents said its not working. And besides, its a ghost portal. Don't you want to see what's on the other side?"

He wanted to say no. He wanted to walk away, take off his stupid jumpsuit, and go back upstairs to watch whatever stupid show Tucker had found them earlier today. Her words had hit a little to close to home, a little to close to that nagging fear he'd felt before, and he spared one glance behind him, just to assuage his nerves before shutting her down.

The wisp danced in the maw of the portal, brilliant, blinding, dazzling colors reflecting off the sheer metal surface of its mechanical innards, and Danny's worries washed away. "Yeah," he heard himself say. "It would be pretty cool."

The portal wasn't deep, so when the wisp disappeared, it didn't go far. It hovered alongside the portal wall, so very close. He took one step further, and then another, and was already in touching distance of the wisp. Danny reached out his hand slowly, cautiously, expecting for it to disappear just like always.

It didn't. It was silky and cool under Danny's hand, and yet it seemed to float away like water or mist, allowing him to put his hand further and further in. He let out a disbelieving laugh that echoed through the tunnel, and he almost thought he could hear the wisp laugh with him, a tinkling of bells, mischievous and soft, echoing just behind his own. The wisp seemed oddly happy to have Danny's hand through its not quite face, it's colors shifting swifter and more vibrantly than ever before. With reckless joy, Danny pushed his hand in further.

His hand met metal with a soft click, and the wisp disappeared, bringing its colorful, kaleidoscope lights with it. Danny was plunged into darkness before his world went green.

--

Prompts: jackdawsprite - Danny knows better than to follow the will o' the wisps. But the rules are different now, aren't they?

#danny phantom #danny phantom fanfiction #danny fenton #pre canon #will o' the wisp #phic phight #phic phight 2024 #team human

[mist-fire]

Thirteenrose Master Fic List

I'm aware of the fact that honestly, there's not enough fics for this ship (a tragedy) to warrant a master list, but I wanted to share some of my very favorite thirteenrose fics.

All below the cut!!

last sunrise in the wasteland, by Shaedan

A tragic, angsty fic of how Thirteen would handle being able to interact with Rose, one last time.

i'm on my own, you're at the beach hundreds of miles away, by thelemonisinplay

Rose only has 36 hours in her universe to solve a problem, and then she's heading home. Angsty lovely closure.

'cause I followed my star (that's what you are), by quantumshade

Lovely little one-shot, where instead of regenerating into Ten during the Christmas Invasion, the Doctor regenerates into Thirteen.

A Door Once Opened, by BlueMargaritasAndYum

Rose comes back, but she's got a wedding to attend to, and what better way to do it, then have the Doctor be her fake girlfriend. Super sweet, soft fic that I loved.

Back Here in Another Universe (After All You've Been Through), by regenderate

Fantastic reunionfic one-shot, that I have no notes for. It ate that up.

Pink and Yellow Roses, by CupofSonic

Another by CupofSonic! Multi-doctor one-shot, ultimately ending with a thirteenrose reunion. Beautiful prose and an excellent understanding of the characters.

I'll Take You There Someday, by Allamarain

You want Thirteen pining after Rose, even after thousands of years? Look no further than this angsty hurt filled one-shot that breaks your heart in the best of ways.

The Reason (Is You), by MarbleHeart

Featuring two of my favorite tropes: Thirteen looking like Rose for a reason, and a reunionfic! Gorgeous fic!

Heal Thyself, by Allamarain

I love Tentoo as much as the next person, but what if he was too much? What if Rose couldn't fix him? This explores that, in the first longer form story yet on this list!

One Ring to Bind Them, by CupofSonic

Multi-doctor fic that has them mourning over Rose, until suddenly, they don't have to mourn anymore.

You're So Northern, by MiJasmine

What do I need to say about this? Short, soft, fluffy reunionfic!

i had a feeling so peculiar, by tablox

Love the hints of Bad Wolf throughout this one! The Doctor is searching, but can she find Rose? Reunionfic

Here I Love You, by Maiden_of_the_Moon

A desperately mourning Doctor talks to sixteen year old Rose in a club. ANGST fest galore, but beautifully written.

It's Me Here, Riding A Light Through The Universe, by Allamarain

What if Rose had never met the Doctor until she was twenty three? This story explores that! Another long form fic by Allamarain that I THOROUGHLY enjoyed.

You Will Find Me Time After Time, by mltrefry

This is seriously one of my favorite thirteenrose fics ever. When the stars never went out, Rose was trapped in the other universe, but now, for a completely unrelated problem, she has returned. Will she meet the Doctor? Another longer one!

When The Chaos Calls Me Out, by Melusine0811

Thirteen follows the ache of a broken bond to Pete's World, where she finds Rose alone and hurting, the Metacrisis nowhere to be found. What's an alien to do? Longer form, and absolutely brilliant!

i wished on a star (it brought me you), by rcsetyler

Broken and alone in Pete's World, Rose tries to find the one person to lessen her grief. A wonderful reunionfic.

come on, come home to me, by nounpolycule

Short and sweet reunionfic of what might've happened if Rose was stranded in the same place the TARDIS had stopped.

Pertinacia by lumidaub

The first incomplete and first comic of this post, but don't let that dissuade you! This comic is gorgeously drawn, with just the right amount of ridiculousness. Very excited to see where lumidaub takes it next!!

your bouquet of golden roses, by lifeitself

Also incomplete, and unlikely to be finished, but truly one of the most gorgeous and well written pieces of media that I have had the fortune to consume in the past few years. The last chapter is a decent enough stopping point, and the story and prose itself are so so worth it.

a collapsing star, by sunshinemachine

A little twisted and convoluted in the best of ways, this is an angsty one-shot that will keep you on the edge of your seat!

No More, by Singing_Siren

What can I say other than a masterfully executed reunion one-shot!

World in Flux, by withthekeyisking

Rose takes a bit of a unique path back to her original universe, but she muddles along the best she can, hoping to eventually find the Doctor. Great one-shot!

Interwoven, Entangled, by regenderate

Multi-doctor fic showing how Rose fits in with the rest of the Doctors, featuring one of my very favorite hcs, Bad Wolf as Disability!

forever (wondering if you knew), by sherlgrey

Silly little multi-doctor speed dating fic, and ends with some gorgeous thirteenrose.

#thirteenrose #thirteenth doctor #doctor who #rose tyler #fanfic #timepetals #13th doctor #bad wolf #thirteenth doctor my beloved #fic recs

[imagine-darksiders]

DUDE your bowser fics are keeping me FED. I so appreciate the work u do, thank u for existing <33

Do you think we could see the scene where reader sprains her ankle? I am in love with your writing!!

Ah, I can't believe I'm joining this Bowser train, choo choo!!

Here's part one of the ankle sprain. Pt 2 is in the works <3

Bowser X Reader

-----

This is a bad idea.

This is a very bad idea, and you've known it would be a bad idea from the moment you started tying your silken bedsheets together, fastened one end around a column of the four-poster bed and tossed the other end straight out of an open window.

While certainly not the most creative method of escape, you're well aware that time is of the essence.

The ruler of this wretched castle – King Bowser – is nothing if not your most frequent visitor.

The last of the sun's rays have slipped back down behind the horizon, stealing away the day's warmth and light, which suits your plans just fine. Less light means you'll be harder to spot as you shimmy your way down the side of the tower, clinging to your unconventional rope like a limpet clings to rocks on the shore.

Of course, as seems to be the case with your recent run of bad luck, there is another major factor you hadn't accounted for that has already proven more of a hinderance than a help.

In your haste to make a quick getaway, you hadn't considered the rain.

A relentless onslaught of water cascades down from the darkening sky, lashing against the side of the castle and drenching your flimsy nightdress until it's plastered against you like a second skin, offering little protection against the icy downpour.

The bedsheets you're scaling are already as sodden as you are, and your rain-slicked hands squeak and slip precariously against the fabric as you ease your way down inch by terrifying inch.

The breath in your lungs heaves out of you in crisp, white clouds of white air.

Quivering, you cast a glance down at the ground, still so far below your dangling feet and utterly barren of foliage or grass. Just a desolate wasteland of wet, churning mud.

The ground isn't the only thing that's churning.

Your stomach rolls over itself at the prospect of how far you still have to go before reaching solid ground once more. You must be several storeys up, right at the tip-top of Bowser's Northern tower.

Twisting your fingers and toes desperately into the sheets, you drag your gaze away from the perilous drop and squeeze your eyes shut, scrambling down a little further.

Time is not on your side. There's an awful burn in your arms that's starting to spread like venom to the rest of your muscles, and you're not sure how much longer you'll be able to hold onto the slippery sheets before your strength gives out.

And that's when you hear it.

That dread-inducing, booming knock - A damning sound that stops your heart in its tracks and draws your descent to a halt as you instinctively freeze up against the wall, your white-knuckle grip crushing the sheets between your fingers.

"No... No, no, no!" you whimper breathlessly.

Why is he here now!? He's only visited you every hour, on the hour. By your count, he's at least twenty minutes early, he shouldn't be here!

Not yet...

Even from several storeys down, you can hear the thunderous voice of your captor calling to you from beyond the doors of your prison - a plush and luxuriant little corner of the castle that he's been trying to convince you is your bedroom.

“Princess?” he calls out in that gravelly rumble you've come to fear, “Are you decent? I'm coming in...!”

A vicious shudder travels down the length of your spine that has nothing to do with the cold seeping like ice into your bones. You have to move.

Now.

Urgency and adrenaline compel you into action, driving you to move hand over hand, inch by agonising inch, down the rope of bedsheets. High over your head, you hear the ancient, wooden doors creak open, announcing Bowser's entrance.

“Princess?” comes his muffled call once more.

You drop another few feet, pulling a face at the false title he's given you. You may not like it, but you suppose it's better that he thinks you a princess than a queen.

There's silence for a time, lasting a scant few seconds as you presume he's giving the room a cursory sweep, until, inevitably...

“Princess!”

It's far more urgent than you expected, and his shout is immediately followed by the clatter of several objects being dropped to the ground, smashing to pieces across the marble floor of your prison-come-bedroom.

You realise that by now, he has to have seen the open window and the sheets you've tied to the bed.

The whole tower seems to shudder as he lumbers across the room, and in a thoughtless move borne of fear, you crane your neck back and squint up through the rain until your gaze lands upon the golden light that spills out through the window, what had once seemed like such a beacon of hope.

There, through the darkness, a colossal snout pokes out into the downpour, swiftly followed by a thick, fiery mane.

For all of a second, you find yourself gaping up at the underside of his chin.

But of course, as was bound to happen, he tips his nose and finally looks down.

The dark does little to hide the striking gleam in those wild and crimson eyes. They lock with yours, and for a moment, you both stare back at one another, unblinking, each as apprehensive as the other.

Somewhere far in the distance, a growl of thunder almost supersedes the Koopa's deafening roar. “WHAT'RE YOU DOING!?” Bowser bellows, loud enough to spur your stiff muscles into action once again.

Gasping for a breath you hadn't realised was trapped in your throat, you recommence your mad dash down the side of his tower.

“Wait! Stop!” His tone is suddenly miles away from its usual, authoritative lilt. “You're gonna get yourself killed!”

You pay the King's threat as little mind as possible and begin to clench and unclench your fists, allowing the weight of your body to pull you down in jolting, jarring increments. The sodden palms of your hands burn as the fabric pulls through them, rubbing the skin raw, but you don't stop.

You're nearly two storeys from the ground when, all of a sudden, you feel the sheets in your hands jerk and there's an odd swooping sensation in the pit of your stomach as gravity gives an unexpected shift.

It takes your brain a moment to realise what's happening.

One, rapid glimpse of the ground confirms your fear. The mud below you is falling away again, getting further instead of closer with each passing second.

“No!” you gasp hoarsely, snapping your head back to see that Bowser has stuffed his arms and torso out of the window and fisted his enormous, meaty paws around the bedsheets, hoisting them back into the room, one armful at a time.

“Just hang on!” he belts out, spraying rainwater from his rubbery, upper lip, “I gotcha! I gotcha!”

He's pulling you back up, you realise with a sinking sense of dread tugging your heart down into the soles of your feet. He's taking you back to that prison, back to the confined and claustrophobic walls of his fortress.

Heaven knows what he'll do to you when he gets his hands on you after this, but you can't imagine that anyone who is willing to kidnap a person is going to pull their punches if said person attempts to escape.

You can't let him get you back into that room.

Right now, you're more afraid of the Koopa King's wrath than you are of a fall.

Dropping your head, you watch the ground sink further and further away below your bare toes.

Two and a half storeys... at least... and steadily getting higher....

You can't stop to hesitate.

Besides, you've already had several bad ideas today, what's one more?

Your breath stills as you try to override your natural instincts and pry your trembling fingers from the bedsheets. One moment of courage, that's all you need.

“Come on!” you whimper to yourself, slamming your eyes shut tight.

At last, with every synapse in your brain shrieking for you to hold on, your hands spring open and you finally let go.

“NO!” Bowser's almighty clamour is lost to you in the abrupt rush of air that screams past your ears.

There's a gut-wrenching second of free fall, and then..

'SPLAT!'

The muddy earth is eager to greet you with a sickening squelch.

You land feet first, letting out a shrill yelp of pain as you instantly crumple over onto your front in the muck. It oozes between your fingertips as you clench your fists and bite down hard to keep a sob trapped behind your teeth, eyes burning with unshed tears.

You feels as if someone has taken a red-hot poker and shoved it straight through your ankle.

“Y/n!?”

Your own name sounds far away to your ringing ears, and you deduce that distance must be the reason why the voice sounds so frantic.

It won't occur to you until later the significance of Bowser calling you by your name instead of 'princess.'

Mud clings stubbornly to the front of your night dress, caking your thighs and arms as you tenuously peel yourself up off the ground and rise to your hands and knees whilst the rain hammers down on you from overhead, plastering your hair to your skull.

Wet, freezing cold and sporting an ankle that sings with agony, you drag yourself away from the wall on shaking limbs. If you can just make it beyond the castle grounds and into the Dark Lands, you might stand a chance of finding a place to hole up in until the worst of the storm passes, proverbial and literal.

The odds are slim, but right now, you don't have much of a choice. You have to go home. You have to get back to your people.

It isn't lost on you that you're far from your kingdom, separated by vast oceans and unfamiliar biomes. But as you struggle through the mud on hands and knees, you resolve to cross that bridge when you're out of immediate danger.

Another grumble of thunder rolls across the swiftly-darkening sky.

“Stay there!” Bowser hollers from the window, “Don't move! I'm comin' down!”

You risk a strained glance over your shoulder to see how far you've crawled, but when your eyes land on the Koopa far above you, your efforts to drag yourself forward are put on temporary hold.

Blinking through a mixture of raindrops and your own salty tears, you see the Koopa bracing his hands on either side of the open window, but he doesn't retreat into his castle, as you assumed he would.

By your count, it should take him at least five minutes to get out here to you, which would subsequently give you precious time to put some distance between you and his terrible fortress.

Sadly, your hopes for that outcome are promptly scuppered when the king hoists his hefty bulk through the window and, to your shock, pushes himself out of it, foregoing your bedsheet rope entirely.

Mouth hanging agape, you're too stunned to do anything except watch as Bowser drops like a meteorite, plummeting towards the earth with his knees bent and his arms held out at his sides, mane whipping around his horns in the rain. He hits the ground with an almighty 'BOOM!' that sends shockwaves rippling out through the mud around him and shakes the ground below your fingertips.

Nothing but a low grunt is torn out of him at the impact.

Horrified, you reel back as he lifts his head, and his bright, blood-red eyes slide open, zeroing in on you with the immediacy of a honing beacon.

Gods... he doesn't even look winded.

You wonder how you must seem right now to a tyrant like him – sopping wet and bedraggled, mud-caked from head to toe, and shivering like a leaf in a hurricane. You're far from the proud, adventurous person who first landed on the shores of the Mushroom Kingdom.

You're given no more time to your thoughts however, as Bowser starts towards you, stomping easily through the sloshing mud.

With a sudden flare of alarm, you whip yourself around and struggle valiantly up onto your one, good leg while the beast's resonant breaths drift closer and closer, urging you onwards like spurs to a horse's flank.

The moment you're upright however, sharp agony crawls up from your ankle to your knee and you cry out in pain, half stumbling, half hopping awkwardly through the slippery mud.

“Hey, stop!” Cumbersome footfalls are almost upon you.

You make it all of a few steps before your ankle suddenly crumples under your weight and you let out another bleat of anguish, toppling backwards with your arms pinwheeling to try and right yourself again.

At your back, Bowser makes a sound of alarm, but you don't see him lurch towards you, his colossal hands outstretched. There's an almighty 'thud!' behind you as something enormous hits the ground.

Gravity pulls you greedily backwards and you brace yourself, waiting in anticipation to feel the earth connect painfully with the back of your skull.

So it comes as something of a shock when, instead of a cold, hard landing, your backside hits a warm, spongey surface...

Stunned rigid, you pry your eyelids apart and find yourself blinking straight up into the falling rain.

“What...?” Reaching behind your head, you try to feel for the ground underneath you, only to further baffle yourself when your probing fingertips meet a layer of smooth, .

A hot gush of air suddenly blasts against your thighs and you squeal involuntarily when something groans under your rump. With a gasp, you hurl your torso upright and twist yourself around to peer down at the soft surface you've landed on.

Oh... Oh, you really wish you'd just fallen in the mud...

For reasons utterly beyond the scope of your imagination, it seems that Bowser has thrown himself to the ground just in time to spare the seat of your nightdress from further mud, but evidently, he'd overshot, enough that you've ended up landing right on top of his head, not in his outstretched hands.

You're sitting on Bowser's muzzle.

His muzzle, your brain helpfully reminds you, and you're dreadfully aware of the little puffs of breath that blow from his nostrils and warm the backs of your thighs. All of a sudden, the gargantuan body underneath you lets out another groan and a single, red eye peels itself open, swivelling up to meet your stupefied gaze.

“Ngh, you okay?” the King mumbles through his lips, half of his jaw squashed into the mud.

It takes you another second to register your mortifying position. And another second entirely to react to it.

You're not sitting there for long. With a scandalised squawk, you hurl yourself off the koopa's snout at the speed of a bullet and twist yourself around in mid air to face him. The seat of your dress eventually collides with the mud but you don't care for the ruined fabric, too preoccupied with gawking up at Bowser as he starts to heave himself onto his feet.

“You!” you blurt shakily, “How... how dare you!” Trembling hands drag yourself backwards, but Bowser, it seems, is hardly paying attention.

In another second, he's stepping forwards and leaning down towards you, wholly undeterred by the feeble slaps you land on his outstretched arms.

“Don't you dare!” you bark, wriggling with fervour when his huge, scaly hands slide around your back and slip easily underneath your kicking legs, clamping your knees together.

“Quit movin' around! You wanna make that foot worse?” The King's rumbling timbre does nothing to dissuade your struggles. With far too little effort, Bowser clutches your squirming body against his chest and rises to his full height.

You regret tossing yourself about so much when a wayward kick sends spasms of white-hot fire lancing through your ankle and you promptly go rigid in the koopa's arms, hissing a breath through your gritted teeth.

Bowser lowers his colossal head over you, covering you from the worst of the weather as he curls around you until you're almost lost from view behind his broad biceps.

“C'mon, Princess,” he thrums, his throat so close to your ear that you feel his voice more than you can hear it, “Let's get you outta this rain...”

#mario #bowser #bowser x reader #whump #hurt #comfort #fluff #possessive bowser #protective bowser #do you want to see part 2?

[fullscoreshenanigans]

I have the headcanon that Leslie lived until 11, even if he had not super good scores, because he was a little genius of music.

Not everyone can create a song, not everyone can learn super quickly to play a music. I don't remember which song he wanted to learn before his deparature, but i think that it was a difficult one (we don't see him train a lot in the story too) and he plays it before going to the gate, without any partition to help him and without doing any mistake.

I headcanon that she demons keep all the little genius, even if they not have good scores and are genius in other ways, because they think that it worth to keep them.

A kid has not good scores but it a genius with drawing and creates super beautiful things? It's worth to keep him until the age limit.

Leslie is super good in music, learn quickly song and has not need of a partition when he plays? it's worth to wait until he's 11 (close of 12). It could also be a kid who has a beautiful voice ansd sings super well for exemple.

etc....

Norman was a genius in studies and stuff so they keep him beyond 12 by sending him to lambda but people can be genius in other ways that in studies. A genius can be super good in something but kinda bad in another things.

I feel like this is essentially canon, no?

The only birthdays mentioned in "The Starry Sky and Leslie’s List" are Isabella's twelfth birthday and Ray's sixth birthday, so contrary to what the wiki currently says, it doesn't look like Leslie was shipped out exactly on his twelfth since they don't celebrate or even mention it.

(Leslie's page on the TPN Wiki | TPN Light Novel 2: Moms’ Song of Remembrance - “The Starry Sky and Leslie’s List” Chapter 1)

They are among the oldest though since Isabella turns twelve within a year of his shipment while not being physically able to jump atop the wall as we see her do in chapter 37/S1 episode 12 yet due to the sprained ankle she sustains over the course of the light novel, in addition to spending weeks to months writing him letters that never received a response and what finalized her decision to make the jump in the first place.

(TPN Light Novel 2: Moms’ Song of Remembrance - “The Starry Sky and Leslie’s List” Chapter 8 | Chapter 9)

But it's still soon enough that she discovers the truth of the house during the night of the first snowfall of the year, which could be anywhere from late October 2025 to January 2026 (since the full score trio deduces in chapter 5 that Grace Field is located in [the demon world equivalent of] the northern hemisphere, in addition to "The Guiding Star" short story mentioning them planning on using Polaris to find each other again after they go off to foster homes, winter would be during this time of the year).

I'm inclined to go with January 2026 since we don't see snow on the night of January 15, 2046, and also because I feel there's some poignancy in what would have been Leslie's twelfth birthday month getting to Isabella as the final push to make her seek him out. He surely would have written her in response to the birthday wishes she mailed him. (This is also why I feel his shipment was after September 9, 2025 because him not sending her any birthday well wishes would have tipped her off sooner, too).

(TPN Light Novel 2: Moms’ Song of Remembrance - “The Starry Sky and Leslie’s List” Chapter 9)

This could be an oddity in the translation, but Isabella also mentions how her her twelfth birthday was close enough that they could mark it on the calendar while the snow was piling up outside. Assuming they put up a new calendar at the start of January, she discovered the truth only in 2026, and then spent over half a year trying to come up with some sort of plan to escape (and isn't there a wealth of potential there, thinking of the adversarial atmosphere between her and Sarah during those few months and how that would be replicated in the next generation between her and Ray, although not 1:1.)

I don't remember which song he wanted to learn before his departure, but i think that it was a difficult one (we don't see him train a lot in the story too) and he plays it before going to the gate, without any partition to help him and without doing any mistake.

He learned to play Nocturne No.2! Though c72684, who translated the light novel, wasn't entirely certain the larger body of work it belonged to.

(TPN Light Novel 2: Moms’ Song of Remembrance - “The Starry Sky and Leslie’s List” Chapter 2)

#naehja #The Promised Neverland #Yakusoku no Neverland #TPN #YnN #FSS Asks #FSS Chatter #TPN Timeline #TPN Light Novels #Moms' Song of Remembrance #The Starry Sky and Leslie's List #Nanao 七緒 #translated by c72684 on wordpress #Pre-Canon #TPN Leslie #TPN Isabella #IsaLes #Isabella #Leslie #Isabella and Ray's Incredibly Fraught and Complicated Relationship Tag #Introduction Arc #TPN 005 #Escape Arc #TPN S1 #TPN S1e12 #TPN 037 #Long Post

[cherrynwinesk]

Ok hear me out-

happy Halloween first off all

SECOND,I WANT A VAMPIRE!CELLBIT FANFIC CAUSE ITS HALLOWEEN...

🍒: Too late for Halloween but I still want to write something scary (⁠ﾉﾟ⁠0ﾟ⁠)⁠ﾉ⁠~

As u sleep ~ Cellbit

Story g: horror (no love), not safe

Language: English/Inglés

⚠️: supernatural creatures, blood, murders, horror. This is too violent, minors or sensitive people do not read, NOT SAFE, ONLY +18, (no sex, only violence)

CC's: Cellbit, Pac mention

Reader g: Neutral reader

📝: All the content is fictitious and an attempt is made to adapt the PUBLIC personality of the cc's, that is, the personality that is shown in front of cameras, I do not know the true personality and any resemblance to reality is mere coincidence.

🍒: Hello, writing requests are always open, if you want something in particular, ask without fear. I clarify that English is not my main language, I apologize for any error and accept corrections to improve the quality of the content pt.2

Master List

Autumn had begun and you had just arrived in the city, starting a new stage of your life after not having found a job in your hometown after graduating from university, walking through completely unfamiliar streets at noon. While waiting for the traffic light to give way to pedestrians, a black-haired boy stood next to you, looking at his cell phone, completely distracted from his surroundings. "Hey how are you!?"

You were able to recognize him, he was a classmate of yours from university that you hadn't seen in a long time, his name was Pac, you didn't have much contact with him but you remember him perfectly participating in some classes.

"Hello, very good and what are you doing here?"

And you ended up walking around while talking about how life had treated u, apparently Pac ended up working for the government courts, he lived in an apartment shared with a friend and that he was on his day off. Meanwhile, you talked to him about how you had not been able to work in your specialty, and that you had left the nest looking for other alternatives to improve your quality of life, but that for the moment you were looking for a place to stay or maybe get a roommate so that the rent of an apartment does not fall completely on your shoulders. Pac told you that he had a friend who was looking for a roommate precisely because of the rent, if you were interested he could introduce you to him and you felt a momentary relief. You accepted and he took you to the nearest hospital, with Pac's identification u were able to enter the operating room areas, you walked to the end of the hallway where there was a sign with "Morgue", you entered and the place was very cold, your arms had goosebumps the moment you enter. You passed by several desks to the end of the place where there were some huge metal refrigerators, and there was a boy, dressed in a completely white insulating suit, white latex gloves that were now red, and with this a scalpel. "Cellbit I want to introduce you to a friend" The boy turned around revealing the body on the metal table, completely open from his chest, from that distance you could not see the body well, you only saw how the skin was stretched with hooks outwards, leaving the center free to be able to work. "Hello, I'm sorry, allow me a moment," the blue eyed boy wiped off the blood a little and took off his latex gloves, "Nice to meet you, I'm Cellbit" he held out his hand to you as he introduced himself with a nice smile. "Nice to meet you, y/n." "I'm sorry you know me so dirty and working, if Pac had told me you were coming I would have kept the body. Does it make you uncomfortable?" "No, I am fine Thank you" "And what do you think of the apartments in the northern part of the city?" You looked at Pac "I haven't told him anything" he told you in response to your look. "Who said about apartments?" "Well, Pac was one of the only people I mentioned to that he was looking for a roommate and a few days later he's here introducing me to a person I didn't even know he knew." "Logical" "The place I found is cheap, it has a living room, a kitchen, two bedrooms, we would only share the bathroom, it is very spacious, maybe if you want to go see it before making a decision, tell me and I'll take you" And so it happened, you both agreed on a date and time to go see the available apartment, the place was good, very nice and comfortable in fact, it was spacious but not huge. You hadn't secured a job yet but from what you knew Cellbit works all day at the morgue, so maybe you would only see each other at night or in the mornings. You began the move, the apartment was already furnished so it was only necessary to have each person's personal things. In less than a week you got a job where the pay was good and you felt comfortable with the place. Your relationship with Cellbit was very good, a friendship of trust and security was immediately formed when you found in the same home, sometimes if one of the two cooked and there was a little food left over you would share it or agree to buy a burger on Saturday night. Of course, you never ate in the dining room together, most of the time Cellbit took his food to his bedroom and ate there. And you understood it, his work was very tiring and most likely he wanted his space. Because you were good friends, Cellbit gave you a special hospital pass so you could enter the morgue without any problem. So one Friday morning you agreed to go to the supermarket together to buy what they needed for the apartment. You would go that same day at night so after leaving work you went to the hospital, you went deep inside to look for your friend.

pt.2

#cellbit #qsmp cellbit #qmsp #cellbit x reader #cellbit soft #gn reader #qsmp #fem reader #male reader #mcyt x y/n #mcytblr #mcyt #sfw blog #ns/fw blog #not safe for minors #not sfw #not safe fw #not safe for kids #vampcore #vampire #creature #paranormal #supernatural

[dutifullynuttywitch]

Sisterly advice

Wake the Dead fanfic

Pairing: Brynn Archer / Eva Archer (sisters)

@choicesfebruary2024 Prompt: Family

Summary: Eva and Brynn Archer enjoy a rare day off in the Tower.

Word count: 1,200

Rating: Teen

Today has been an almost perfect day, Eva Archer reflects.

She’d had the day off from pest control. Brynn and her crew were also on a rare break from scouting.

She and Brynn had woken up late, enjoyed a half decent meal for a change – scavengers had brought back apples from a nearby grove – and spent the afternoon playing cards with Cassidy, Dirk, Troy and Mack.

Even Troy had refrained from cheating, mostly. He’d slipped her a couple of aces under the table when her pile of chips had run dangerously low, grinning charmingly at Cassidy’s amused smirk, the others oblivious to the maneuver.

This was about as perfect a day as she could hope for within the confines of the Tower.

Her wandering thoughts sour at that.

The Tower.

Forever cooped inside a large, windowless, oppressive bunker. Surrounded by too many people, all busy eking out a living, oblivious to the world around them, living and working under the flickering of artificial neon lights.

Of course, there were bright spots in that otherwise bleak world.

Her Sister Brynn and her scouting crew, Cassidy, Dirk, Brianna. Their quirky friend Mack. And Troy, her best friend and partner in crime. They had become her adopted family. Made her existence in the Tower more bearable.

Eva dreams of being able to head out and see the world. Feel the grass between her toes again. Visit some old world relics she faintly remembered from her childhood and would avidly read about in Troy’s magazines - amusement parks, libraries, museums... She wants to swim in the sea. Feel the warm, salty breeze on her face.

Eva barely remembers life before the drones, before the Tower. She had been so young when people had started to change, when they’d lost their fathers and had been forced to flee. Brynn, still a child herself, taking on the parenting role.

“Hey! Earth to Eva! What are you daydreaming about?”

It’s the main reason she wants to become a scout so bad. To Brynn’s immense displeasure. Too dangerous, she’d growl, shutting down every attempt at a conversation.

Brynn pulls her out of her reverie with a light tug. Both sisters are sitting cross-legged on Brynn’s bottom bunk, the older sister’s hands nimbly working on braiding Eva’s fiery red hair.

“Nothing... I just.. I’m realizing, I’m starting to forget what the outside world looks like, feels like...” Eva murmurs, looking at her hands.

Brynn freezes, a pained look on her face.

“Eva...”

“And I know what you’re going to say, outside is dangerous, full of drones. And I know you’re right, I’m not trying to minimize the danger. But still, you get to actually leave this place for a while, breathe fresh air, feel the sun on your face... The last time I saw any of the outside world was when Troy ...”

Eva clamps her mouth shut, realizing she’d said too much.

“When you what? Eva, when the hell did you see the outside world with Troy?!” Brynn rounds on her, furious.

“It’s not like we left the tower or anything, Brynn! A... a few months ago, he took me to see the northern lights up on one of the top floors. We may have snuck back up a few times since... but only at night, with no one around to see us, I swear!”

“Are you kidding me, Eva?! Do you have any idea what’ll happen if Blackstock’s people find you sneaking into off limit areas? And after curfew at that?! God, I don’t know who's the worst influence between the two of you.”

Brynn stares at her, furious, then lets out an amused chuckle.

“You know, I thought the two of you were sneaking around making out or something. Was working myself up to the birds and bees talk. I definitely did not suspect late night stargazing. You’re such dorks!���

“Making out?! Birds and - what on earth gave you that ridiculous idea?” Eva splutters, face heating up.

“Oh come on, little sis, I’m not blind. I can see how you look at each other. And the not-so-subtle flirting.”

Wait, what does Brynn mean about Troy looking at me like… Eva’s mind spins as she thinks back to their daily interactions. His charming smile, his soft brown eyes sparkling with mischief and affection…

Nah, he’s just being friendly, as he’s always been. My best friend, nothing more, nothing less.

Could they ever be something more?

She shakes the thoughts away.

Brynn smirks, enjoying her sister’s discomfort a little too much.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Eva mumbles, “Troy's just a friend. Besides, he’s a huge flirt. And a goofball. And an ass more often than not. He’s really not my type.”

“Uh Huh. You keep telling yourself that.” Brynn smiles, amused.

“Okay, since we’re going there, what about you and Dirk? I see the way he looks at you. The guy worships the ground you walk on!” Eva turns towards her big sister, a mischievous sparkle in her eyes.

Brynn becomes serious, a little hesitant.

“Dirk and I... It’s complicated. I know he cares about me. And I do have… feelings. But when you’re out with someone risking your lives on a near daily basis, you need to fully trust them. Right now, we have a great dynamic going with him, Cassidy, Brianna. We have each other’s backs, but we also know none of us will hesitate to do the hard thing if one of us got bit. If Dirk and I became something more, I’m worried it’d cloud our judgement if things went south...”

Eva takes in the admission, brows knitted, then grabs her big sister in a crushing hug.

“Brynn, you deserve happiness. And love - even if it’s with someone as grumpy as Dirk.”

Brynn scoffs at that, but Eva continues.

“I swear, you’re always putting everyone’s needs and wellbeing ahead of yours. Even the damn job. You’re always looking out for me -”

“It’s my job, even though you don’t make it easy, you brat!”

“Well, if you weren’t such a stuck-up ass all the time ...”

“Watch it, lil sis...” Brynn growls, eyes narrowing in warning.

“Or what? You gonna -”

Eva squeals as Brynn lunges at her, jumping off the bed. She ducks as a pillow sails right above her head.

“I swear Eva, I don’t know how I even put up with you.” Brynn mutters, getting up to grab her boots.

“’It’s cause you loooove me!”

“You’re lucky we’re related or you’d be out on your ass. Now get a move on or we’ll miss evening rations.”

“Yeah yeah.” Eva smirks.

She suddenly turns serious, pensive.

“For what it’s worth, Brynn, I get your concern that letting someone in may… complicate an already good thing. But if you don’t, you can also miss out on the chance of something amazing.”

Brynn stops to ponder. Then smirks.

“Wait, actual words of wisdom from my little sis? I guess you did learn something in between all your suspensions. Any chance you’ll follow your own advice?”

“… I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Riiiight.”

Eva rolls her eyes, wrapping an arm around Brynn to give her a hug.

Brynn reaches up and playfully rubs her knuckles on her sister’s head.

“Ouch! Brat!”

Both sisters giggle and tease each other as they head out into the labyrinth of neon-lit hallways.

#choices monthly challenge #wake the dead fanfic #wake the dead reread #choices february challenge #family #storge #troy hassan x eva archer #troy hassan #playchoices #brynn archer

[animatorweirdo]

The stars of the deep part 2

Fingon could never forget what he had left behind in the icy wastelands. He longed to hear your voice and see the light that once ignited hope within his heart. But after centuries, will he ever be able to do so?

Requested by Anon

Hi! Hope I made it in time to slide this request in :) sending you a request for part 2 of the stars of the deep? (Fingon x reader) maybe he goes and seeks her out after rebirth or maybe even during his time in Beleriand? Thank you!! And congratulations on your followers!

Part 1

(I'm struggling to write and edit thanks to a lack of motivation and assignments that keep on coming. I'm sorry if this is not entirely the best I could come up with but I hope you still like it anon)

Warnings: mentions of dying, lingering hate, angst, possibly unrequited love, Fingon looking and singing.

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

Fingon could never forget you. He tried. After the arduous journey through Helcaraxe and losing so many to the cold and the first battle with Morgoth's forces— he tried forgetting you, yet he failed. 

It was because of the love he felt for you. It had persisted for ages, even when he had long died and re-embodied in the blessed realm of Valinor, healed and forgiven for his deeds in the past. 

It was something his father and the rest of his family pitied him for. Since elves could only love once, Fingon could not love anyone else after meeting you, one of the daughters of Ulmo. 

You and your sisters had long heard of their deeds in Alqualondë and, as a result, never appeared to them again. You never came to their aid when they had tried sailing to Valinor and tragically drowned in the sea’s pitiless waves. There was only one exception, and that was due to your father’s will. You never responded to their songs or appeared to them on the shores of the blessed realm. 

So, in the bigger picture, Fingon’s love for you could never be reciprocated. 

Fingon’s heart longed to see your brilliant light and hear your beautiful voice. He would often gaze out toward the sea because that’s where you lived, swimming among your sisters and living a life beneath the waves. It felt like a calling, which only pained his heart more because he did not know where to look for you or if you ever wanted to see him again. 

Helcaraxe was no more due to the changing of the world, but from what he had heard, Ulmo had summoned all of you to live safely in the waters of Valinor, away from Morgoth’s influence and the world of men. 

One day, his longing began to eat away his very soul. He couldn’t stand still so he made the decision to journey and try to find you. His family discouraged him when he told them of his plans. Even if ages had already passed and most have forgiven them of their past. There was no guarantee you would want to see him again. Not to mention, you two lived in two different worlds. Him on the land and you in the sea. 

However, patience and lack of trying had never been part of Fingon. 

He left his home and ventured around Aman. The Teleri had been close friends of yours for ages. However, since the first kinslaying and the wounds caused by the destruction of their boats, they were reluctant to tell Fingon anything about you and your sisters. Only a few were willing to say something, guiding him to the shores where he could try to sing to you and wait for your answer. 

On every shore, he would sing to the ocean, hoping for a response, yet no matter how long he sang, silence was his only reply.

Nevertheless, Fingon persisted, trying again on different shores, only to receive echoes of the sea. His goal was to catch even a glimpse of you, but after failing to elicit a response on nearly every shore and beach in Aman, he was finally ready to heed his family's advice and return home. The one place he had not yet tried was the northern seas. 

Fingon stood upon the rocks, staring at the vast ocean before him. The wind pushed the waves against the rough cliffs, and the breeze chilled him even though he was wearing layers of scarves to protect him from the cold. 

Despite the tragic and unpleasant memories. Fingon always found a certain beauty in Ulmo’s realm, and now, this would be his last try to hear your voice again. 

If his family were there to see him, they would call him a desperate fool, and maybe that is what he was. He had always felt deeply for the people he cared about. He did not even hesitate to venture into Angband and save his foolish red-haired cousin. 

Fingon began to play his harp, singing of the sea and the memories of the long past. Love and longing, the beauty of the light and the cold. His voice echoed far through the sea that even the smallest of the sea’s creatures could hear him. 

Memories of you passed his mind and he called out to you. At the end of his song, he waited, he waited for your response. 

He waited for you. But there was nothing. No response. He felt heartbroken. 

A light then shone from the sea. Fingon watched as the light shone brighter and turned into a large figure, swimming around him, and when he turned around, he was face to face with you. 

You had grown larger over the years, large as your oldest sister the last time he saw her. Your hair had grown in length, still decorated in pearls and seashells and your eyes held wisdom over the ages and light from the past. Fingon's heart swelled with joy when he locked his eyes with you and despite him being a size of grain compared to you, he found himself enraptured by your beauty like all those years ago. 

"You had been looking for me, princeling," your voice sounded like a great echo of the sea, yet still held tenderness and calm. 

"Why?" you questioned, staring into him. 

"Because..." Fingon started, nearly unsure how to answer. "Once an Eldar gives away his heart, he could never take it back," he said. You looked at him softly after hearing his answer. "You would love a creature like me?" you asked. Fingon softly smiled. "I had loved you ever since we first locked eyes with each other," he said. "And if you only forgive my misdeeds," he said. 

You gently raised your hand, caressing his face. Despite the chill touch of your hand, Fingon found himself leaning on it. You leaned close, staring into his eyes. "I'll forgive you," you said and Fingon softly grinned. 

You two relived in the moments, enjoying the darkness and the loneliness that was finally relieved from both of your hearts.

#fingon x reader #fingon #silmarillion x reader #silmarillion #finagon oneshot #silmarillion oneshot #fingon x mermaid reader #middle earth #middle earth x reader #silm fic

[givemea-dam-break]

Hey hope your having a lovely day or night I was wondering if you would write something for Lucy as I haven't seen alot for her as the other boys.

Maybe when Lucy first arrives instead of the article room being just hers she as to share it with the reader who's been friends with the boys for a while and Lucy is shocked that the reader works withe the boys or something and their is that immediate spark between them.

Anyway even if it's just a Lucy idea you have had that would be amazing as well and if u don't mind tagging me that would be amazing <33

a/n: i would be more than happy to write this! i adore lucy and she holds a special place in my heart (partly because my dad is northern English too and i love their accents) so i hope you enjoy! I'm sorry this has taken so long to come out, i just kept getting stuck in places about what to write haha

warnings: mild language female reader (few pronouns used)

"I'm sorry about the boys. Their test was genuine, but they're like schoolboys and like poking fun."

"It's fine," Lucy Carlyle, Lockwood and Co's new hire, says, but her tone indicates that she's still a little pissed off about it. You can't blame her, you'd been pissed when they did it, too. "How can you work with them? Are they always like that?"

You shrug, fluffing the freshly changed pillows on Lucy's bed. "I've known George since we were kids - don't mistake that for friends, we only knew of each other - and Lockwood... well, he's Lockwood, and you just learn to expect the wildest things from him. I've kind of just learned to either drown out the stupid things they're saying, or I have to be the one to knock some sense into them, especially Lockwood. You'll get used to them."

Lucy places her bags down, brushing her hands over her coat in a nervous gesture. "How long have you been working with them?"

"Only as long as it's been registered, so three months," you say. "George found me just after Lockwood started the company, something about needing someone with good Touch, so you're the perfect fit for the last Talent. And, god, it'll be good to finally have another girl in the house." You walk over to the wardrobe, flinging the doors open. "Okay, so this half of the wardrobe is mine, and this half is yours. I did ask Lockwood if we'd be able to get another, but he's stingy. Luckily for you, most of my clothes stay folded on the floor by my bed, so feel free to use as many hangers as you want -"

"What's in that room downstairs?" Lucy asks, looking over at the bedroom door. "The one on the landing?"

You hesitate. "I don't know. Neither does George. We just know that it's off-limits, and Lockwood gets antsy when the topic even gets brought up. If I were you, I'd steer clear of that conversation for now."

"Right." Lucy sits on her bed, expression tired and confused. "Sorry, this is all just a lot to take in..."

"That's alright. Want me to give you some space for a while? I've got to make a start on dinner soon, anyways. It's my day to cook."

Lucy looks up at you, and something in her eyes pins you to the spot. They're a light brown, glimmering golden in the lamplight of the room, and her hair curls loosely around her face, barely sweeping her shoulders. But those eyes...

"Could you stay?" she asks softly. "Maybe, um, maybe we could get to know each other?"

Grinning, you sit on the bed beside her, giving her enough space to make sure she's comfortable. "Well, it would be a good start if we're going to be sharing a room for the foreseeable future. What do you want to know?"

She eases up a little, relaxing. "Did you say your Talent was Touch? Lockwood never mentioned in the interview."

"Yeah," you say. "I know your Touch helps you hear things, but it helps me see, I suppose you could say. Takes me back to the time of death, or whatever it's linked to. My Listening is alright, and my Sight is a little better."

"I've never really heard of that before. That sounds... cool."

You shrug. "I suppose, unless I'm watching someone being murdered, or something. Usually, it isn't too bad. Lately, my Sight has been needed more than anything."

"Have you got any cases coming up?" Lucy's voice sounds a little more confident now. "With the tests, you guys are well aware that I'm good enough to work here, but I've never seen you guys in action, or heard about it."

"We do, actually," you say. "Tomorrow. Some old lady's husband died not long ago, took a tumble down the stairs, and now is possibly haunting her house. We're going to go and check it out, hopefully find the source and get out unharmed. I'm sure Lockwood will let you tag along. It seems like a simple enough job."

--

Funny. It is not a simple job.

It goes terribly wrong from the get-go, actually.

First problem: George is late, and nothing you can say to Lockwood convinces him to hold off a little bit to give George time to get there. So, essentially, you're going in blind.

Second problem: judging from the fact that Mrs Hope, the owner of the house, says that she's the only one with a key to the house, the human-like shape you saw moving inside is most certainly a ghost. At not even six o'clock, no ghost should really be active.

Third problem: well, to put it simply, Mr Hope is not the ghost haunting the house. No, that would be too easy, right?

Standing on the landing of the second floor, rapier drawn, you stare up at the ghost of a young woman. Faintly, you can hear her voice shouting out to you, but Listening isn't your strength. She's a creepy one, you'll give her that, just hovering in the air a few feet away, dress and hair blowing as if she's caught in a breeze.

"Luce," you say. "What's she saying?"

Lucy watches the ghost cautiously. "Let me go. But... Something feels different. It's like I can feel what she feels."

"She's a ghost," Lockwood says. "She can't feel anything."

"This is different. This -"

With a horrible screech, the ghost launches herself at Lucy, who stumbles backwards into the stair bannister. In unison, you and Lockwood slash through the Visitor with your rapiers, holding her back as a loud crack! sounds behind you.

"(name)!" Lucy cries. "Help!"

Glancing behind you, your heart almost stops. Lucy has broken through the bannister, and the only reason she hasn't fallen and broken all of her bones is that her boot is stuck in one of the gaps, and she's grasped onto a painting on the wall. Even within a second, her grip is slipping.

Lockwood throws a salt bomb, drawing the ghost away as your reach over, careful not to fall down the gap yourself, and grab Lucy's hand, pulling her back up.

"You okay?" you ask, still holding onto her. "No ghost touch?"

She shakes her head, mumbling, "No. I'm okay."

Something in your chest eases at that. The case is nowhere near over, but she's okay for now, and you find that's all that matters to you.

#lucy carlyle x reader #lockwood and co x reader #lockwood and co fanfiction #lockwood and co #lockwood and co netflix #lucy carlyle #george karim #anthony lockwood #x reader #fanfiction #givemea-dam-break

[jimblejamblewritings]

snow falls hot | part 4.

Summary: (Y/N) Snow isn’t a Snow at all. She’s a Targaryen— Rhaegar’s child. Taken in by the Starks, she leads her life as another on of Ned’s bastards. Will she be able to live in Westeros comfortably? More importantly, does she have any ambition to see herself one day on the Iron Throne?

Warnings: in this part none but this is game of thrones so…

Pairing: robb stark x reader

Word Count: 3.3k

Previous Part | (Series Masterlist)

A wedding in the middle of a war was not how you pictured your wedding. When you, Brienne, and Catelyn had arrived the camp was almost to Riverrun— Catelyn’s childhood home. After having to be there for the funeral of their kin, Robb and the entire army decided to make Riverrun their home base. Despite living in the North all your life, you had never been to Riverrun. Ned and Catelyn preferred keeping you in Winterfell. It was safer that way. The place was nice— well the places not swarming with Robb’s army. Most of the stuff was already there, now only a few supplies were left to be transferred.

You stayed close to Robb the entire time, head covered and dragon hidden in the saddle bag. Even after arriving, you greeted Lord Edmure and the Blackfish and quickly scurried to the room claimed for Robb. He was left with the task of informing everyone of the ceremony that evening while you worried in the room until he got back. He seemed to sense it as he wrapped his arms around your middle, swaying the two of you from side to side. He kissed your temple and then took one of the white-tipped curls between his fingers.

“We’ll have another one,” Robb said. “In King’s Landing or back in Winterfell. Or even here but with proper preparations, we’ll have the wedding you want.”

The dragon on the table yipped causing the two of you to laugh. Like Godswood, the dragon was black as night with a glimmer whenever light seemed to shine on its scales. Robb tried to pet it again, this time being allowed to. He hissed as the dragon bit at his finger.

“She knows you’re afraid of her. You can’t be, a dragon is a lot like a dire wolf. Strong owners are rewarded with their company.”

“Have you named her yet?”

“Shadow… I don’t want another one, another wedding. This one isn’t perfect but I only want to be married once and I am, to you.”  

~~

Gruff soldiers cleaned up as best as they could. Everyone was actually excited. A wedding was a semblance of normality. Not much could be done in terms of decoration and the food wasn’t any better than it normally was but a wedding was still a wedding. Catelyn, Edmure Tully, the Karstarks, and other important figures stood at the front near you and Robb. They cheered as the vows were finished. You turned away from Robb and to the wedding guests.

“I know everyone is aware of the letter sent by Eddard Stark. He told the truth but it was still only partial. I am still a Northerner through and through, married to King Robb Stark in the North who I am proud to stand beside. And we Northerners do not bow. Now what I say next, for the safety and sake of Arya and Sansa Stark cannot be repeated. The secret I am to share cannot be uttered again until they are safe in our arms, I beg of you.”

The hall grew silent. Robb’s hand found yours and he gave it a gentle squeeze. You breathed in deep and looked at Godswood. With what you could only assume was a nod of understanding, Godswood left and returned with a dragon on his back. Gasps popped up through the crowd. Even the men who seemed to show no emotion at anything had looks of surprise and wonder on their faces. No one could believe the sight in front of them. Murmurs started about how they saw the white tips of your hair but couldn’t say what had caused the random change overnight. Shadow flew, not very far, from Godswood to your shoulder.

“Joffrey was personally responsible for the death of Eddard Stark. With my own eyes, I watched the man who safely raised me die. For such an act, the false king Joffrey Lannister must pay. Lord Eddard Stark will not die in vain. He bent the knee to protect his family and was murdered for honor. I will not bow anymore. My mother was Neryssa of Dorne briefly married to my father… Rhaegar Targaryen.”

You looked to Robb, who hadn’t let go of your hand the entire time. His eyes urged you to continue going.

“I stand before you as (Y/N) Targaryen Stark, first of her name, last of the House Targaryen, Lady of Winterfell, Queen in the North and rightful heir to the Iron Throne and the Seven Kingdoms.”

You looked out at the crowd. You knew most of these men since you were a child but there was still a small thought in the back of your head that now they would turn on you. You stiffened slightly when Rickard Karstark pulled out his sword but Robb didn’t seem nervous at all. Lord Karstark raised his sword high in the air.

“(Y/N) Targaryen Stark!”

The others followed suit in raising their swords and shouting your name with sprinkles of Robb’s name as well. They continued to chant as you and Robb exited the hall. Robb cleared Grey Wind from the room, the dire wolf gladly going with Godswood and Shadow. You took initiative to run your hands down Robb’s back as he closed the door. With a smile, he turned around to face you.

“You missed my name day,” you said. “You didn’t miss much though, there wasn’t any celebration.”

Robb pushed your dress down your body. His fingers attempted to make quick work of the strings. Instead of turning you around for an easier time, he maintained eye contact as he worked to undo the corset strings. You undid Robb’s cloak and belt.

“I can think of a way to celebrate. You look beautiful.”

Your corset joined your dress on the floor. Robb pulled off his shirt. For a moment it was silent between the two of you— air charged and heavy— before your lips crashed against each other. It was an ungraceful walk to the bed, neither of you able to keep your hands from the other one. You were sure you heard whispers and quick footsteps as people tried to avoid the room and the noises coming from it.

“I don’t think I could ever get tired of that,” you said, a lazy smile plastered on your face. “How are we expected to just sleep every night?”

Robb laughed. He covered you with a blanket, pressing a kiss to your back. “I understand why men fight now.”

“What does that mean?”

“After tasting you, I’d be damned if another man tried to have you… You will sit on the Iron Throne and all of the Seven Kingdoms will bow at your feet, I promise you that. I will get my wife back what is hers.”

The two of you settled in the bed, ready to let sleep take over. Morning reminded you that it wasn’t a dream— so did Robb deciding to settle between your legs before leaving for the morning to discuss battle plans. Now a true Stark in name, nothing changed as you greeted whoever you passed on the way to one of the courtyards at Riverrun that wasn’t taken over by army men. Grey Wind followed you and Godswood, the wolf enjoyed seeing his sibling. The two dire wolves settled underneath a tree as they watched you and Shadow.

It was easy to train Godswood. He hadn’t given you much trouble, the two of you bonding right away. But that was a wolf and you trained him like a dog since they were so similar. What was similar to a dragon? Shadow looked at you. The only thing you managed to do was show her that you weren’t afraid of her and deserved to one day be her rider. If she ever got that big— you remembered the tiny dragon skulls in the dungeons of the Red Keep. Your mind flashed to the visions of the ruined tower full of eggs and the book in the center of the room. Trying to remember what you saw, you mentally flipped through the book pages until a word in Valyrian popped out at you.

“Soves.” Fly.

Godswood and Grey Wind lifted their heads at the sight of the small winged creature flying high into the air. Shadow dipped and dived before returning to your outstretched arm. You tried again. Anytime you could recall a word of Valyrian, you would say it and Shadow would execute it. You bent your head and Shadow touched her forehead to yours. You almost jumped back when you were staring at yourself. A blink and you were looking back at your dragon.

“What was that?”

“What was what?”

You turned to see Robb coming with some of his men. He greeted you with a kiss and you could see the snickers of the men behind him— you would surely be teased forever. You told him to watch and touched your head to Shadow again. This time you were in fact looking at Robb but not through your eyes, you knew it wasn’t through your eyes.

“She’s a warg,” one of the men said and explained. You thought wargs were a myth.

“A Targaryen that can warg into her dragon. Those Lannister bastards don’t stand a chance.”

You chuckled, eyesight returning to your own body. “Shadow is but a baby. I would hope our war doesn’t drag out so long that she is big enough to rain fire.”

“Still. To warg into the sigil of your house is power,” Lord Karstark commented.

“Power… Grey Wind!”

The large dire wolf bounded over. He would soon be so big that he could be ridden into battle if one chose to do so. You looked at Robb and pointed to his wolf.

“They’ve always said the Starks are magic,” you offered.

His eyebrow raised like he didn’t buy what you were insinuating but Robb knelt down anyway and pressed his forehead to Grey Wind, running a hand through his fur. Robb’s eyes rolled to the back of his head till only the white part of them showed. Quickly his blue eyes returned and he backed away from his wolf to look at you and then his men. The man who first mentioned warging smiled proudly.

“A union of power is what the two of you are. For the first time, I believe in the Crown of the Seven Kingdoms.”

Robb kissed your forehead and said what he came into the courtyard to talk to you about. “We want you in the meeting.”

“A queen should know what her armies are doing,” the man said.

The corners of your lips curled upwards. They spoke to you the way they spoke to Robb and you felt warm knowing you had their faith behind you. You walked with them back inside. Anyone looking on would say the sight coming down the hall was terrifying— you and Robb with a dire wolf on either side, a dragon on your shoulder. Lord Karstark pointed to the map rolled out on the table.

“There aren’t enough men to immediately march to King’s Landing. Lannister men still outnumber.”

“Do we not have allies in Renly and Stannis, even roughly?” you asked.

“Renly’s army died with him. They fight under the Lannisters now. Stannis is as outnumbered as us, he won’t attack them again until he is stronger.”

“So we are stuck?”

“We could attempt an assault on Casterly Rock. King’s Landing is impossible but if we hit the soul of the Lannisters it would sway allegiance to us. However, it would be a great attempt. By the old gods and new, there is a strong chance we would lose this time.”

A man entered the room and grabbed Lord Karstark’s arm. He excused himself saying he would be back but his bannermen needed him. With faint nods of acknowledgement, the rest of you continued your discussion. Karstark could always be informed of decisions later.

“Then… wouldn’t it be smart to go home. Retake Winterfell, force the Greyjoys to bow to us again, try again when our men are stronger. We’d have a dragon, I could write to Jon and we’d have two.”

Bryden Tully— the Blackfish— laughed at your eagerness. “Even with two dragons, my Queen, you send your men home and they will not want to leave again.”

“Winter is coming,” Robb sighed. “If we go back to the North, it’s where we’ll stay. We could get a small band to find Arya and get Sansa but more than that would be near impossible.”

“Maybe that’s for the best? The North is ours and no matter how much Joffrey whines we will not bend the knee. Even tired Northernmen would defend it to the death if he was stupid enough to march on our land.”

“All respect, my Queen,” Bryden started. “Your speech struck something in the hearts of all those men. You and Robb give them hope. They believe in a future where The Crown takes care of them.”

“We can’t take care of them if they are dead.”

“The Lannisters wreak havoc on the rest of the Seven Kingdoms. Not all the men here are from the North. I’ve heard them talk, they can’t wait for the day they can chant your true name through the streets. What you’ve promised is a fair world that the Lannisters cannot deliver. They want to see it in their homelands. You already have love beyond the North.”

With a slow nod of understanding you decided to speak. “Then to bring them this world we need to be smart. We should try for Casterly Rock. I know where you can get more men but…”

The men followed your gaze on the map. You were staring at the Twins. Walder Frey had men upon men and could easily help you outnumber the Lannister army left at Casterly Rock. One of the men looked like he was mentally calculating.

“If we had House Frey back, we could do it. It is an assured win not a potential loss.”

“Frey left after my father’s letter. I cannot marry one of his daughters, I don’t have another Stark to promise him.” Robb’s mouth tight-lined.

“We’ll discuss this later, maybe send a messenger. Old Frey has to want something more than just the Young Wolf with one of his.”

Robb nodded. You and him moved to leave the room. The men could continue strategizing alone. With the discovery of warging, the two of you had a new task to figure out. Robb’s hand didn’t leave your waist as the two of you walked. You chuckled at the sight of Grey Wind. He was slightly larger than Godswood— you suspected because Godswood was found so far away from the others he was probably one of the runts, like Ghost. Even if he was a bit bigger than Ghost.

“Do you know of the rumors about you in King’s Landing?”

“Rumors?” Robb asked, eyebrow raised in intrigue.

“There are whispers that you can turn into a large wolf and devour your enemies, that you ride Grey Wind into battle.”

Robb laughed. “He’s still a pup.”

“A pup that is almost the size of a small horse. One day, you could.”

“One day, I might. And you?”

“What about me?”

“Will you ride Godswood or Shadow? How will you strike fear into the hearts of our enemies, beloved?”

“I don’t want to strike fear.”

Robb stopped walking and turned to face you. Both his hands rested on your waist now as he pulled you close to him. His eyes roamed over all your features, running over your hair, and finally settling on your eyes that had been watching him the whole time.

“I thought you wanted your house words? Fire and blood.”

“I demand fire and blood from those that owe us fire and blood. But I want a new world, a good world. One where children aren’t killed because they threaten legitimacy to a throne… one without the Iron Throne.”

“Didn’t you wa—”

“I know what I said but I was wrong. We don’t need another ruler on the Iron Throne, it is just a chair. A chair that brings misery. That chair doesn’t mark a good ruler. Your men follow you because they have trust in you, they see someone who can care for them like a leader. Sure, there is some fear because they know that a toe out of line and you will correct them. But that is understood as part of your job and it makes them trust you to be good to them even more. All of the Seven Kingdoms deserves that.”

“You are talking about breaking a wheel that has existed since the start of the Seven Kingdoms.”

“Aegon Targaryen built the wheel when he conquered Westeros. A Targaryen will break it… I sound foolish don’t I?”

Robb shook his head and gave you a peck on the lips. “You are not a fool. Idealistic, maybe, but not a fool. You want a new world, we create a new world.”

“One like Winterfell, with great leaders like your father. Or the lords in Dorne.”

“A world just like that. But, beloved, to do that and build the world you want will require—”

“Fire and Blood,” you whispered.

“Fire and Blood.” Robb agreed.

You sighed because he was right. Running a hand through his head of curls, you smiled at the man you could now call your husband. King in the North was a title Robb deserved. King of the entire world was what you would give him if you could because it’s what he wanted to give you as well. You opened your mouth to say something else but stopped before a word could come out. Robb looked at your eyes that had widened and noticed you were no longer looking at him but past him. He turned and, at his feet, Lord Karstark dropped the two dead bodies of the Lannister boys that were being held prisoner.

“What did you do?” Robb asked, darkly.

“A father’s vengeance.”

“Vengeance? These boys did not kill your sons. Your boys were murdered by Jaime Lannister.”

You gasped. No one had told you of how Jaime escaped, you only knew that he had gone missing days before you were set to go to Riverrun and Catelyn was partially responsible for it. Lord Karstark laughed, a gruff sort of laugh.

“My vengeance against the Kingslayer was denied when your mother let him go.”

“My mother isn’t responsible for your treason. They were just boys!”

Robb’s yelling brought the other men out of the meeting room. Bryden and Edmure drew sharp breaths at the sight in front of them.

“They are enemies,” Karstark said. “In war you don’t keep company with your enemies, you kill them. Did your father teach you that before—”

Bryden punched Karstark before he could finish his sentence. He was gearing up for another swing when Robb stopped him, causing Karstark to laugh more. He taunted Robb, saying he should have let Bryden continue.

“Young Wolf? You’re soft, act like this and you will be the King who Lost the North.”

Grey Wind and Godswood snarled. Robb barely turned his head as he spoke to the men behind him.

“Hang all of Karstark’s men and escort Lord Karstark to the dungeon.”

“I’m just the lookout. I was just watching.” One of the men sputtered as he was being grabbed.

“Hang him last so he can watch the others die.”

Robb was heated when you two entered your room. As a result, Grey Wind was pacing and growling as well. He ignored as you called his name. Robb kept muttering about the Lannister boys until he just stopped suddenly. You watched as his eyes went white and then looked at Grey Wind. After a few breaths, Robb’s eyes were the ice blue you loved once again and he was calm. You walked up to him and grabbed the sides of his face.

“Are you better?”

Robb nodded.

“You still seem bothered.”

Robb smirked. “Am I? Would you like to help me?”

(Part 5)...

#game of thrones fic #asoiaf fic #robb stark x reader

[naomitours]

Tromsø, Norway: The North Above the North

I am not a "cold-weather" person, both in personality and in personal inclination. So you might wonder why someone like me would go to Norway in December. And if you asked me this after I actually got there, it would've been a damn good question! But I had a single reason, and a good one:

That's right, I went to see the northern lights. The green lady. "A-AURORA BOREALIS??", in the words of Superintendent Chalmers. People much smarter than me say this is caused by the sun's upper atmosphere emanating a solar wind that reaches *our* upper atmosphere. While not the most consistent place in the world to see it, Tromsø is one of the easiest and largest to try your luck.

Disclaimers from the Top of the World

The first thing you should know about Tromsø is that the sun doesn't come up for most of winter. You'll have light for a few hours, sure, but it's not the same. The meaning of darkness is different when it's ever-present, and those brief few hours of light mean everything. I found myself wanting to shed my coat and soak the light in through every pore of my body.¹ Depression is a real problem here, so is alcoholism. (I was even told by a local that they track alcohol purchases via card, to make sure nobody is drinking too much in the dark months!)²

The "sunset" over the Tromsø harbor, 1:35 PM.

The second thing you should know is that you need traction on your footwear. Pack your snow boots, or buy some shoe spikes because otherwise you'll be spending a good chunk of your time here on the ground, cursing the ice. My dumb-ass had decided to come to Norway on a whim, without thinking or preparing, so I showed up in my Doc Martens slipping and sliding. I almost couldn't make it to my Airbnb, my host having to come down and help me up the hills!! Thankfully I was able to borrow boots from my, again, incredibly lovely host³, but my god you've never appreciated gravel so much!

The Tromsø Troll Museum

That's right, the main attraction in the city, the reason you flew hundreds, perhaps even thousands of miles! This tiny museum with a bunch of trolls scattered all around!

It's a cozy space, and if you're as fascinated as mythology as I am, it's really a must-see if you're in town. Also, there's a replica of a hulder. According to local lore, these were beautiful women who would often try to lure men away from their human homes, to live in otherworldly pleasure with them⁴, or they would marry human men and join our world, retaining their otherworldly strength⁵!

Aurora Borealis

The biggest disclaimer I'd offer for the northern lights is this, you are never guaranteed to see them, even if you do everything "right". This was such a huge source of anxiety for me until I finally had a good sighting, then I was able to relax. I recommend doing some guided tours, these are not necessary (I saw them once right outside my Airbnb!) but it's going to maximize your chances by getting you away from the city's light pollution. There's many different modes of transportation for this, I myself took a bus and a boat, but I saw advertisements for planes, helicopters and even dog sleds*. The first time I ever witnessed the northern lights was on a sleepy little boat tour, New Year's Eve 2023.⁶

The interior was very cozy, more importantly it was warm, essential on a night with subzero wind chill. I enjoyed cookies and coffee and hot chocolate with marshmallows!

The lights don't look like the pictures, that should be stressed. The vast majority of aurora borealis photos are taken via long-exposure, and our eyes just don't work the same way. But on a good night you can see a faint green distortion in the sky, as if a riff into another dimension. It's like you expect an alien spaceship, or the giant hand of a monster to come ripping out of it, changing our world forever.⁷ But for the natives of Tromsø, it's just a day like any other.

View of the Aurora Borealis, from my Airbnb the next day.

I also recommend booking a few different tours, if you're like me and only really need to see it once, many will let you cancel on 24hrs notice if you pay extra. I recommend this as a good way to save money, but I'm kinda a cheapskate, so what do I know?

Also, please don't be discouraged if you don't see the lights on any given tour, you still do get some really beautiful photographs. It's important to keep a sense of relativity about you, you are standing at the top of the world, in the freezing cold. And in this moment you are having a novel human experience, regardless of whether or not you see some pretty lights on top of it.

What I Ate

Now, you might think the food is very bare-necessities in this sleepy arctic city, but you'd be surprised! One of the first things I had was something I had actually failed to find in Oslo, a delicious Norwegian donut called a skolebolle:

With a custard center and coconut flakes trimming the top, it's a deliciously sweet treat that I found in a Eurospar for the equivalent of a dollar. I recommend enjoying it with black coffee! Not pictured are the other things I got from the store, including paprika-flavored potato chips (highly recommended) and a large bar of Freia milk chocolate, which you'll not be disappointed by.

There's also an abundance of little convenience stores that will get you hot meals for relatively cheap (Northern Europe is expensive!) On the right you'll see a pepperoni calzone that was pretty good, along with a Norwegian soda that was less so. But if you're looking for a finer taste of Tromsø, stay with me:

This is a sampling I did of Aquavit, the signature liquor of Scandinavia. All of it was made right here in Tromsø, and I had a lovely guide for this tasting. To name a few, lingonberries and reindeer meat, not to mention a small slice of grapefruit.⁸ It's a little skimpy, however the point isn't to eat, but to taste!⁹

Conclusion/Takeaways

It can be a very scary thing, to be so far away from home. In all my years of travel, though that uncertainty has diminished, it never truly goes away. Maybe travel is just like any other experience, your tolerance to it builds until you only feel the original high when you get even further out of the world as you've known it. In this way, travel is much like a drug. But what moves me most about travel is its capacity to help us understand not just the planet we live on, but our own place within it. And if you ever feel lost for purpose, I might recommend standing on top of the world, hunting for otherworldly apparitions in the sky //

Footnotes:

¹ Of course, if you actually try to walk around in Tromsø without a coat, you will a)freeze to death and b)look stupid

² LITERALLY 1984

³ Of course, I had to return the boots when I left for the airport, meaning I fell not once, not twice, but THREE times trying to get down the hills to the bus stop. Seriously, you can't wear your Docs, no matter how fashionable and punk rock they are!

⁴ But why would you want to do that, when society is sooooooo good?? Like, who wants to live in a fantasy world where there is no suffering or want when we have Pizza Hut here, right now?

⁵ A hulder also features prominently on the cover of that one metal album by the murderous Nazi that your friend still listens to, despite knowing he's, you know, a MURDEROUS NAZI.

⁶ I would later go on to watch a man in lederhosen play The Weeknd, Cher, and at midnight ABBA's "Happy New Year", all on a keyboard. Dude was a one-man entertainment MACHINE, the vibe was immaculate.

⁷ As seen in Avengers 17: We Saved the World Again, in theaters this summer! Go watch it. Right now. The corporations demand it. DO IT. CONSUME.

⁸ Make sure your meds don't interact with grapefruit. Grapefruit may cause side effects including sour taste. Ask your doctor if grapefruit is right for you.

⁹ You know, like, a tasting menu or something!!

#travel #norway #tromso #tromsø #northern lights #aurora borealis #traveler #travel blog #traveling #places to visit #travel guide #footnote comedy for your soul

[moetxt]

zhongven and zhongscara for the ship bingo (guess who this is 😏

i see you 👁️

ah, zhongscara...

for me, it started with mine and a friend's determination to have our faves kiss zhongli, but i only got further enabled when someone else pointed out parallels i didn't even see initially. i'm proud to be one of the 13 people who ships it 😁

though, to be honest, i really prefer them in a non-romantic context. in my eyes, they're friends with a compatible worldview and REALLY REALLY compatible kinks. scara would never admit this to his face but he sees zhongli as one of the precious few people in the world competent enough to dom him. meanwhile, on zhongli's side, he enjoys very much how scara lets him do what he does best, to the fullest; most people wouldn't be able to handle it, after all.

i think romance is the one major thing they disagree on. scara with his trust issues cannot COMPREHEND how zhongli is still willing to put his whole heart into loving someone even after getting hurt multiple times in the past.

now... you knew this was coming.

zhongven my BELOVED!!! they've been happily married for 2,000 years. they have an angsty on-again/off-again open relationship thing but neither of them thinks it's enough and also they get jealous. they've been mutually pining for millennia to the point that there is plentiful evidence of how down bad they are for each other in both their countries' mythology/folklore/traditions/ancient artifacts/archaeological sites but they've never once actually admitted they're in love with one another. as gods, they can't love as humans do and as divine manifestations of their elements and ideals, they're natural opposites locked in an eternal stalemate of courtship; can't tie down the wind, can't whisk away the earth. they've divorced at least 300 times. they're bitter exes and ei is the only one left alive who can tell you all about it (she will not).

unlike other ships i've been obsessed with in the past, it's hard for me to remove zhongven from their canon context, or at the very least a context where they are still divine/immortals. the divine opposites thing is just so key to me—they way they shouldn't get along, they shouldn't understand each other, but nonetheless they do. also, exploring edge cases of locality-specific or occupation-specific dual worship that occurs when morax's and barbatos' domains meet. like, how ancient northern liyuens knew to scatter dandelion seeds along with their prayers to make earthquakes during the spring and summer go away because it was probably the geo lord sulking and missing his beloved. or how sailors whisper a prayer or two to the god of wind for safe travels as where rex lapis' domain does not extend, they instead hope for the protection of his "bride" :)

actually, i am writing a whole fic about this! it's an epistolary-styled story filled with outsider accounts of how morax and barbatos just keep popping up, directly or indirectly, in each other's mythology. it's also about zhongli intentionally messing with the historical record in attempt to bring more of this to light because he's sulky about venti not visiting him for 500 years lol.

but yeah, the gods aspect is quite important to me and my view of them is so specific that i tend to be picky when it comes to fics, especially if they are AUs.

finally, as you know, i have more than a couple of crack theories/shipper delusion when it comes to zhongven and wider genshin lore. (descender zhongli and shade of istaroth venti my beloved!!!) namely, that venti warned zhongli about the cataclysm beforehand due to his god of time/celestia connections, but didn't warn the others, and that's why there was a near pantheon wipeout and the tsaritsa hates him now while zhongli carries so much guilt. also, that zhongli retired godhood at least partly due to venti, leaving his country to the humans (just like venti had done all along), and because he regretted how he always prioritized work and didn't treasure what he had until venti disappeared for his 500y coma.

"the end of godhood" is a really fascinating concept to me, as is what their relationship could turn out like in the future. they aren't gods anymore, but they're not exactly humans either, and no one else can really understand them like they understand each other. a lot of the obstacles in the way of them being together are now gone, but they now also carry new scars. i have a fic vaguely drafted centering around this too.

hehe, thanks for giving me the excuse to talk at length about them! 💞

#moeasks #zhongven #zhongscara

[fandom-blackhole]

Northern Attitude

AN: Hannah writing?? Hell honestly must have frozen over for this to have happened, which I can neither confirm nor deny. This was supposed to be done sooner but well you're all getting it now, a gift from me on my bday. I will not make any promises for the future, but I hope my writing stump has passed. I hope you enjoy this and are as excited as me for the HBO show! As always all REBLOGS and COMMENTS are super appreciated!!

Pairing: Joel Miller x Reader (no Y/N, no physical description, does have a nickname)

Rating: Mature 16+

Words: 11k

Summary: Joel has always been a pain in your side since he moved into Jackson. The two of you butt heads often and avoid each other the best you can, but what happens on a patrol during a snowstorm may lead to some realizations. Reader's backstory inspired by Northern Attitude by Noah Kahan

Warnings: reader is really snippy towards Joel, foul language, canon typical violence (can be disturbing for some readers so feel free to message me for more descriptive warning), reader has nightmares, descriptive headache pain, Joel and reader get snowed in for a bit, no sexual content rating purely for violence, reader has no described gender but does have mention of a past family (as always, I'm sure I missed something so feel free to tall me so I can add it)

    

Fear.

     Panic.

     Running.

Lungs burning.

    Trembling.

        Heart ache.

             Adrenaline.

      Panic.

Cold.

.--. .- -. .. -.-.

            Gasping, you bolt upwards. Bed, you’re just in bed, it was only a dream. You stare at your ceiling for a few minutes, taking deep breaths to calm your still racing heart, before letting out a deep sigh. Closing your eyes once more as you rub your forehead feeling the aches of a headache coming on, sighing out to no one but yourself, “It’s going to storm today.”

            You only allow yourself a few more seconds to sit there quietly before pulling away the thick covers, allowing the chill of the air to settle across your tired body despite the darkness still enveloping the outside world. You don’t linger in your bedroom long, just staying long enough to pull on your warmest clothes, making sure to put on multiple layers for what is to be a bitter and biting day, making sure to finish off with the thick knitted sweater you loved so much, the cream color of it long faded and stained brown for reasons you’d rather not think of at the moment, but the wornness always bringing you comfort.

            Leaving your room, you find that the rest of your little home feels just as suffocating as your bedroom. Unable to take the suffocation, feeling the clawed hands of the need to scream grip your throat, you turn to your door making quick work of lacing up your boots and pulling on your coat before pulling your door open and leaving your home. You don’t think, just walk, allowing the cold to numb both your body and mind as you trekked your way through Jackson, watching as the sun slowly crept over the horizon, grazing the tips of the houses in gold.

            Once it was light enough out you steer your feet towards Tommy’s office, or what he liked to call his office even though everyone in town knew it to be Maria’s, his wife’s office. You figured it’d be nice to get your patrol assignment early enough to be able to get through the path with you whoever your partner was in time to beat the storm that you could now see making its way towards the town, hoping to whatever cruel god out there that you weren’t up to do the Haywood patrol because it was certain that the poor bastards on that path, the longest of the patrols, were going to by caught in the storm.

            When you finally made it to the building you weren’t at all surprised to find yourself to be the first one there, so you just sighed and let yourself lean against the cold brick of the wall beside the door. Closing your eyes, you take in a lung full of the cold air, feeling it burn your throat in a way that you have long since found comforting. What comforts you most though is the fact that your brain is too tired from your tossing and turning all night, so you don’t have to deal with the thoughts that you usually find rattling around, instead you find silence, of which allows you to enjoy listening to the birds slowly wake, enjoying their sweet songs.

            You’re not sure how long you stand there for, but eventually you hear someone clear their throat. Opening your eyes slowly, you find Tommy standing beside you, opening the door with a smile on his face.

            “You gotta stop showin’ up here before me, North. Maria’s gonna notice one of these days and give you my job,” he says as he lets you walk in first. You shake your head and roll your eyes, even though your back is to him, and he can’t see, before plopping down in the metal chair you’d long since dragged to the corner of the room.

            “Maybe she should, bet it’d be good for you to be placed on patrols for a while, humble you up just a bit.”

            You smirked as Tommy laughed and looked up from the desk he was now behind, sorting through papers, before picking one up, saying, “Hey now, I do patrols about once a month, usually with you. So, keep your voice down before the walls get any ideas.”

            That makes you laugh, a smile forming on your lips. Tommy’s incessant jokes that Maria always seemed to hear things through the walls always got to you. You find yourself envious of their relationship sometimes as it reminded you of a simpler time. You looked back to Tommy after a second of looking around, asking, “Can I see the patrol list today? Woke up feeling a storm coming on and I’d rather get an early start.”

            You watch Tommy’s eyes flicker over to you for just and second, his jaw clenching and a look of hesitation crossing his features just briefly enough for you to catch it before he cleared his throat, making his face neutral, faking a quirk of his lips before looking over to you fully as he sat down behind the desk. In his hands, the paper he was holding now folded over as if you could some how see behind him, as he met your eyes, making his tone light as he said, “That so? Well let’s hope that storm isn’t too bad, rather not have to go searchin’ for anyone once the storm clears.”

            You make sure not to break eye contact feeling lightness in your attitude drop, knowing that Tommy caught your change in demeanor as your eyes harden against his gaze. He was avoiding your question, trying to hide something from you.

            Leaning forward in your chair you patiently call his name, to which he only responded by breaking the eye contact, looking back down at the desk, and busying himself with the papers in front of him. You let out a sigh that sounded more like a growl while rubbing your forehead, this morning’s headache back to taunt you. You find your patience thin already.

            “You might as well as rip the bandaid off because I’m too tired to be playing games right now, Tommy.”

            You look back up as Tommy sighs and leans back in the chair, giving up on his attempt to seem busy. He doesn’t fully look at you as he finally says, “You’ve been assigned Haywood today. Last week’s patrol of the area reported sounds of infected, but they couldn’t pinpoint the location and you know that path well, I figured you’d be the best to track them down an’ flush ‘em out.”

            Dragging your hand down your face, you sigh and nod. He unfortunately had a point, as much as you hated it.

            “Ok, ok so I’ve got Haywood. There’s no way I’m doing that patrol on top of tracking down some infected and still be able to make it back before that storm gets here. Depending on where the infected are and how long it takes to get to them, I should be able to hole up in either the old mortuary or that college dorm check-in point on the trail.”

            Tommy nodded, interlocking his fingers, resting them on his stomach. It’s quiet in the room as you start building up a plan, figuring what building or areas would need to be checked, making sure to plan a path that intersects all of the check-in points so you could sign the books, but you find yourself pausing brows still furrowed in thought as you ask, “Who’s the unlucky person I’m partnering with today?”

            You find yourself met with silence once again, so you repeat yourself again, thinking you may have just mumbled the question before, to caught up in thought to notice, but as you focus on Tommy once more you find him avoiding your eyes once more.

            “Tommy Nathaniel Miller, who. is. my. partner?”

            “First, my middle name is not Nathaniel. Second…… Joel was assigned to be your partner,” you find yourself clenching your jaw, getting readying to say something, when Tommy jumps back in, his voice calm, “Maria and I decided that you’d both be the best for the job. We really need those infected taken care of before winter truly sets in.”

            You shook your head the entire time he spoke, standing up, a scowl etched deep onto your face now. You start stomping over to the door, but Tommy calls out your name, rushing out, “Where ‘re you goin’, North?”

            Whipping around, you take a deep breath, glaring at him, before saying, “To get my horse and guns. If I want to get this patrol done, I am leaving now. Without your brother.”

            Tommy says your name again, more exasperation in his tone this time as he walks around the desk, “Listen, between the two of you, you’ll be able to get it done the quicke-“

            “No, I refuse. We both know I could do this patrol with my eyes closed. So, either I leave now, by myself, or I won’t be doing the patrol at all. Fuck it, I’ll quit patrols and go work with Shelia. She’s always trying to recruit people to help with all the kids.”

            Tommy lets out a frustrated sigh, opening his mouth to retort when the door opens behind you and you see him deflate just a second before a feminine voice asks, “You spill the beans too soon?”

            Tommy responds by rubbing a hand down his face as he leans back against the desk. Maria walks out from behind you and over to Tommy before turning to you. Maria has always been one to call the shots, and you’ve always listened because she’s always respected your boundaries, but in that moment, you level her with the same hard look you’d been giving Tommy, trying to make it clear that you were not budging. To which Maria in turn crosses her arms with a sigh, leveling you with a hard look of her own.

            “Listen, just for this one time we need the two of you to do this. Think of it as a favor.”

            “No, not happening.”

            Tommy gave you a pleading look, “Please, North.”

            Resisting the urge to slam your head against something, you closed your eyes taking a few deep breathes, telling yourself it’s too early in the morning to start yelling. So instead, when you opened your eyes, your piercing look still sharp, you replied, “I’m not even sure why the two of you are even trying. We all know he won’t agree to this either.”

            Your words sat there for a second, enough that you think that they may bend, but you didn’t notice Maria’s gaze flicker behind you until after a gruff voice spoke up, “I already agreed.”

            Looking over your shoulder, you’re met with Joel’s stoic, hazel gaze. You just roll your eyes and scoff. Looking back to Tommy and Maria, you straightened your back making sure to look them both in the eye before turning around and walking to the door, not bothering to even look at the older Miller sibling. Tommy started to call your name again, but you just interrupted him, saying without turning around, gripping the door handle, voice colder than the air outside, “You better be at the gate and ready when I get there or I’m leaving your ass behind.”

            With that you walked out the door.

-. --- .-. - ....

            Much to your chagrin, Joel had been at the front gate when you arrived not fifteen minutes after storming out of the office, and just from giving him a once over you could see that he had everything he needed and more. You had just walked past him with your horse as the boys on the wall opened the gate, you not even sparing a glance at Joel as you walked past him. The second you were clear of the wall, you pull yourself up onto your horse, not waiting for Joel, not caring if he was following you, as you steer your horse to start towards Haywood.      

            Things continued in silence for a while, Joel steering his horse to follow behind your own keeping a decent amount of distance between the two of you. For some reason, the silence felt both perfect and deafening. You didn’t care to make small talk- or any talk, really- with the man trailing after you, but the silence always seemed to echo around your tired skull, causing a deep aching across your forehead. Then again that was only when you didn’t already have pain rattling around in your head much like you did now. Instead, at this moment as you made your way through the trees, it felt like hot nails were being hammered into your head, creating and invisible crown that only you could feel.

            You rubbed at your eyes as the pain blurred them slightly, wishing now more than ever that being able to have the luxury of a pharmacy was still an option, or better yet the luxury of being able to spend the day in bed, sleeping the pain away. But luxuries no longer existed and those who did take part in them found themselves not lasting long in this new way of life.

            As you exited the cluster of trees, nearing the first checkpoint, you paused and looked at the sky. They were easy to spot, the dark encroaching clouds heavy and rolling with moisture, ready to let it drop and cover the earth in a soft, blinding white blanket. You let yourself pause for only a second more, watching the clouds darken a corner of the bright sky, letting yourself feel the wind whip and bite at your face. Then you pulled your horse to follow the short path to the old watch tower turned checkpoint.

            Gently you slid from your mount, patting her side as you tied her up, humming gently as she nudged you. Smiling you rubbed the side of her face, before turning to walk up the stairs to the small lookout. The room really wasn’t much, though you suspect it never really was, its purpose to serve not really for comfort. There was a small cot in the corner that would barely fit one person, piled with a few spare blankets. Next to it, there was a desk holding the check in book where you walked over placing your own initials and a small note of no infected having been encountered.

            After signing in, you turned to find Joel in the opposite corner of the small room, crouched and running his fingers along the tattered books taking up the small bookcases that sat along the wall, most of them sun faded, and weather beaten. You watched him for a moment, taking in the soft way his rough, calloused finger trailed along the fragile spines. Though you found yourself sighing and crossing your arms, turning to look out the window behind you as his gruff voice finally broke the silence, “So am I goin’ to be made privy to whatever plan you’ve cooked up, or am I jus’ supposed to follow your lead?”

            You close your eyes for a second, closing them off from watching the dark swirling clouds, as you raised your left hand to rub against your temple. Sighing again, you turn and find that Joel had silently made his way across the tiny space towards you. Watching his face for a second before you look away, wincing just slightly at a sharp pain against your temple, deciding that you truly weren’t in the mood for hostility today.

            “How well are you acquainted with Haywood?”

            “Well enough to know where the check in’s are situated.”

            Nodding, deciding that was a good enough answer, before turning to look out the window again, crossing arms, letting your hands cup your elbows. “Well, I hope you’re looking forward to coming to know this area on more personal terms. Tommy said that the last patrol could hear infected somewhere but couldn’t track them down. So, our priority is to find them and dispose of them, meaning we are veering off path. I was thinking of a zigzag pattern throughout the area, make it so that no stone will be left unturned or unchecked. That also means that our patrol is going to take nearly three times as long to complete.”

            Swallowing, you turn to face him once more, catching his hazel eyes with your own hard gaze. Joel gave you a nod, a sign of approval. You didn’t need nor want the approval, knowing you were going to go about this your way no matter what anyway, but the sign of neutrality, of no anger or arguing was a bit relieving at that moment.

            “We also aren’t going to be able to make our way back to Jackson before that storm hits, so just….be ready to have to hunker down until it passes. I have a few good safe spots that will be good to ride out a storm in, but if we can I’d prefer to be in that college dorm, one of the checkpoints on the patrol, or the mortuary as they have the most room for us both and room to bring the horses in with us.”

            The old watch tower gave a clear view of the surrounding area, so you made sure to point out the places you mentioned as you spoke and noticing Joel’s gaze following along and nod when you finished. You kept your gaze on the small dorm building, the last of what once was a small community college still standing as you continued.

            “With luck, we’ll find and clear out the reported infected before the storm and not have to search for them after everything settles and this will only take us two days at most.”

            Joel let out a gruff hum at your words, “And without luck?”

            You turned to him, face deadpan and tired and replied, “Well if we don’t find the infected before the storm that’ll add at least another half a day, and that’s given the storm lets up through the night,” pausing you turn towards the dark, foreboding clouds once more and finished, “But by the look of those clouds there is a strong chance we’re going to be huddled up somewhere for anywhere from a half a day to possibly three, its looking to be bigger than I first anticipated.”

            With that said, you turned to leave the small watch tower, not waiting for Joel to reply, not that you were expecting him too anyway.

... - --- .-. –

            The two of you managed to hit the second of the four check-in points around midday. In all honesty, you were content with your progress so far, having managed to cover about a fourth of the area already while keeping ahead of the storm just slightly, the skies yet to fully darken, only sitting at a dreary grey so far. You couldn’t be too happy with your progress so far however, because you both have yet to hear or find any traces of the reported infect and with the longer it was taking to find them, the more the encroaching storm was pressing against forward and making the headache you woke up with pound, your thoughts turning sluggish and warbled together.

            Sliding from your horse you rub at your face with both hands- your fingers numb and stiff from the cold- and sighed before turning to your companion, none too thrilled to find his eyes already on you. Reaching out, you grab his horse’s reigns from his hand and motioned to the old stone house with your head.

            “Go sign us in, I’ll take the horse around back to the pond. Give them a chance to get a drink.” Joel watched you for a second, his eyes in the moment felt like he was seeing through every mask and wall you’ve built, seeing you for you as he all too often seemed to do, and you hated it. So, you levelled him with an annoyed, cold look and snipped, “We don’t have all day if you would so kindly remember,” before tugging both horses away as you heard an unimpressed grunt and footsteps fading into the building.

            Once in the old stone cottage’s backyard, you lead the horse to the small garden pond. Both thankfully taking the opportunity to drink, which you gladly followed suit with your own canteen while scanning the area. Things have been quiet so far, as they usually were on Haywood as there was almost never any activity in the area. The quiet on this patrol usually comforted you, allowed you a sense of reconnecting with nature without having to be on edge the entire time, bringing you a small amount of peace in a world with none left in it. However, knowing that there was something lurking in the quiet this time made it unsettling, tense as opposed to the comfort you’d become familiar with.

            Watching the horses drink, you fiddled with the lid of your canteen, screwing it, and unscrewing it as you dredged through your thoughts trying to make a list of the most possible places the infected could be hiding. There was the old corner store towards the back of town, covered in brush and secluded away in such a way that many who patrolled Haywood either forgot to check it or didn’t bother to. Or the sun-bleached Lutheran church, the building rotting and unstable as the rains have rotted the wood and heavy snows have collapsed most of the roof, leaving behind an unstable steeple and a basement that has been almost entirely collapsed upon. The small-town museum was also an option, the building a few stories tall and full of pioneer artifacts that may have once been interesting but have long since lost value with everyone’s need for survival becoming more important. There was also a number of houses that would need to be searched, a small log cabin, a two-story brick house, the 4 still standing cookie cutter houses, the old six-bedroom bed and breakfast, the house turned apartments behind the post office, and so many other places.

            Your fingers found themselves rubbing at your eyes attempting to clear the blurriness from your vision before pressing against your temples, eyes closed you tried focusing on the sound of the wind, the horses at the edge of the water, the slight rustle of the tall dried dead grass. Allowing yourself to focus on the soft, calm for only a moment.

            “We don’t have all day if you would so kindly remember,” you heard your own words echoed back to you, huffed through Joel’s thick southern accent.

            Clenching your jaw you turn your head to glance over your shoulder, more upset that he was able to sneak up on you rather than the fact that your few seconds of peace had been interrupted. You made sure to shoot him a glare before walking over to lead your horse back around the house, mumbling to yourself, honestly not caring if Joel heard you or not.

            “For someone with a fat ass ego you sure are a sneaky fucker.”

            A huff behind you told you that he had heard your comment, and as you swung yourself onto your saddle, you caught his reply, “I do believe that’s the nicest thing you’ve managed to spit in my direction, North.”

            “Yeah, don’t get used to it, South.”

-.-. .- .-.. –

            The fucking daycare. Peeling, smiling and freckled yellow sun tormented you as your eyes stung, as your chest tightened, as red soaked the aged and mildew cover giant foam puzzle pieces, pooling around your boots as you just stared into the tacky sunglasses that fucking smiling sun was wearing. Your blood was rushing too loudly in your ears, adrenaline settling in your veins as you clenched and unclenched your jaw, your chest staggering with stunted breaths. Tracing the sun’s freckles you swallowed, willing moisture to return to your mouth and throat. Freckle, freckle, freckle, drip…... not freckles, there were no freckles only dark splatter. Blood splatter put there by your hands, hands that were still wet and slick, hands covered in thick blood yould feel, both present and long since washed away. It wasn’t supposed to go like this, it wasn’t fair, what had they done to deserve this?

            You and Joel had been nearly to the third checkpoint, a small squatty building that’d been renovated into a diner, when the storm finally caught up to you. Large, fluffy snowflakes started falling, drifting softly on the wind, and finally, finally the thick pressure on your head started to lift, feeling almost clear headed for the first time that day. The sky had yet to fully darken, and the snow was floating to the ground almost lazily though, so the two of you continued to push ahead, intent on moving forward until forced to stop.

            Ten minutes, ten short minutes from when it started snowing to when you first heard the first high pitched cry. It was still quiet enough that you pulled your horse to a stop, holding a hand up so that Joel would follow suit. The quiet echoed around you, birds already having taken shelter from the storm, the only sound was the wind and the horses’ breaths as white fluff collected on you both in your stillness. Just as you were about to shake it off as wind in the trees or some other bullshit you wouldn’t have fully believed, you heard it again. Turning to Joel to see if he heard it too, you found him pulling a revolver from his bag and leading his horse in the direction both cries had come from.

            It took too long in your opinion to finally pinpoint where they were, the cries fading and quieting all too often, the sky continuously darkening and the temperature dropping each minute you continued this tiring and tense version of Marco Polo. Eventually you did figure out what building the sounds were coming from though. A sharp cry carried out the slightly ajar front door of the overgrown daycare as Joel and you turned the corner holding a crumbling building.

            The two of you made quick work of jumping from your horses and tying them to trees sprouting from the broken concrete in front of the building. Cautiously you both in tandem approached the ajar door, crouching and listening carefully. Closing your eyes, you focus on your hearing, waiting with bated breath as you quietly heard one pair of feet shuffle then slowly another followed by a quieter shriek. Judging from the sound of the footsteps it seemed as if the infected, two or possibly three if one was holding still, were congregated in the back of the building together.

Opening your eyes, you looked to Joel and held up two fingers. In response he nodded, shuffling forward to press the door open wider to allow the two of you to creep in while still crouched. Luck was on your side for once as the door opened silently- a miracle considering the rusted state of the hinges- and the two of you split off after passing the front desk area, you taking the right as Joel took the left.

With the predicted amount of infected, you only pulled out your hunting knife, hoping to have the chance to do this quickly and quietly, both to conserve ammo and ever present need to stay quiet as possible and not draw any other possibly unwanted attention. You cleared two rooms quickly, both small and just full of old toys and colorful cubbies. Next was a kitchen and breakroom area which you paused in long enough to check the few drawers and cabinets, find a few rags and a pair of scissors which you stowed away in your bag. You paused once more to listen, still only managing to hear two pairs of quietly shuffling feet as well as Joel’s quieter sifting through rooms opposite to your own.   

Quickly as you allowed, you moved on, watching as Joel slipped from one room to the next fluidly, gun raised in his hands as he ducked in. Two more rooms were left on your side, one large one left for Joel. Your next room looked a bit more aged up than the previous two rooms you’d been through. There was a bookshelf full of thin books, the walls had the alphabet and corresponding animals or items painted circling the room, one corner held play kitchen gear and an art easel, while the next held a stack of old cots, in the center of the room three longer tables sat pushed together in a U formation, and in the back of the room there was a door leading to an outside play ground so overgrown and fallen apart you weren’t sure you’d be able to tell the difference between what was once a slide or a see-saw. The room held nothing of value, so leaving you moved to the last and final room. The door to this room was in two parts, the top portion was open while the bottom was shut tight. As you approached you could hear that this is where the two infected had cornered themselves. They were quiet, feet shuffling lightly around the room. If you had to judge, you would guess that the two were in the latter half of the runner stage of being infected, the infection progressed into their dead rotting bodies so that they were slowed not as quick as freshly turned, but not having yet sat long enough for the cordyceps to take their sight and cause the ever-present clicking sound of the next stage of infection, clicker stage.

Not wanting to give away yourself as the two infected were both calm at that moment, you didn’t risk looking over the half door, simply turning the knob fully on the door, holding your breath as you heard both pairs of feet shuffle towards the back of the room, both sounding like they were headed to the same part of the room. Only then did you press the door open and made your way into the lion’s den. Right next to the door you found a wall of cubbies which you ducked behind, hoping that you could stay there long enough for one to wander your way and make it easier for you to sneak up on the second.

You got your wish after a few tense aching moments that felt like hours, clutching your knife tightly, ready to use it as the shuffle of feet came closer and closer to the door. Distinctly as you focused on the infected approaching your hiding spot, you hearded the other shuffle as well, but not close enough to stall your actions. Within seconds, the infected was within sight, acting quickly you lunged forward aiming for the twitching thing’s throat, realizing only as your knife sunk in and it dropped to the floor that it was small, too small. You didn’t get time to process though, as the sound of its fellow dead collapsing drew the attention of the second and last infected, its footsteps rushing towards you. Giving up you hiding spot, you jumped up, launching over the half wall of cubbies, meeting the second one have way as it turned to you, smaller than the first but teeth still bared in instinct and hate, leaving you to react much the same, driving your knife once more into its neck, effectively killing it as the tiny body dropped onto pieces of blue, yellow, and green foam.

You were frozen, eyes on the wall in front of you, watching a demeaning yellow fucking sun smile at you as all your eyes could really seen were small hate filled eyes, pig tails, a pink jacket with strawberry pockets, and blood, blood that you had spilt. Minutes or seconds, it had all only happened in the span of a few minutes or seconds, too quick, fight-or-flight and adrenaline took over your body trapping your slow to process brain behind a wall as survival instincts took over, watching your hands move of their own accord, not hesitating as your brain screamed to do too late and too muffled by the walls encasing it.

Minutes or seconds, maybe hours, you were too frozen to know, ears too full of ringing and the rush of blood to hear the footsteps, eyes too focused on the judging eyes hidden behind painted sunglasses to see the approaching figure. Only broken from your shock, thrust into the present like surfacing after jumping into deep waters, as a hand grasped your shoulder and turned you.

“-orth! North, come on, come back to the fucking present,” Joel’s voice muffled through the rushing, the static noise clearing when you met his eyes, and he said your name. You felt groggy, like you weren’t quite in your own skin just yet, both an observer and a participant. So, you found yourself fluttering your eyes, control slipping back to your own hands as your survival instincts faded away. Your chest still shuttering, you pulled away from Joel’s grip, not acknowledging his gaze or words, interrupting whatever he was saying, as your ears weren’t really hearing any of it anyway.

“We need to leave, storm’s getting worse,” walking away as you talked, your own voice sounding dead and hollow even to yourself, “We’ll skip the third checkpoint, we’re closer to the fourth one anyway, the..the college dorm is the best place to be during the storm anyway.”

You could hear Joel repeating your name, voice laced with emotion your brain too thick with shock at this point to be able to decipher, choosing instead to make your way to your horse and untie her even as Joel’s voice got louder. By the time you’d swung yourself up onto your horse Joel had given up, instead he climbed up onto his own horse with a clenched jaw, frustration rolling off of him just as thickly as the snow was now falling. You didn’t care though, just steered your horse in the direction of the dorm, moving her into a run as your brain circled one question, and one alone.

What had they done to deserve this?

.. -. ..-. . -.-. - . -..

          The fire burned at your back, scorching after a day of nipping bitter cold. The horses were cozy downstairs in the lobby turned stable, hay and water and away from the raging storm happening outside. In your hands, you picked what was supposed to be your dinner, a cold roll and a handful of pieces of jerky. You couldn’t eat it though your mind too far away and unfocused. Your eyes stared out the window in front of you, trying to focus on watching the snowfall in thick droves, obscuring everything but what was visible a few feet in front of the glass, which was nothing at all. The lanterns lit around the room along with the small fire built in the small metal fire pit in the middle of the room cast glares of light against the window, the white backdrop making the window a near mirror. You could see the few couches drug into the room, circling the firepit, with old, weathered blankets draped along the backs for comfort in cases like these where groups got stuck on patrols during bitter nights. You could see the back of Joel’s head, leaning toward the fire, having chosen to sit on the couch facing away from your current lurking, giving you space and quiet after finding you quiet and unresponsive after settling in for the night, he hadn’t even said a word to you as he pressed your dinner into your now clean, but still heavy, hands. The worst part of the reflection though is attempting to avoid the empty, dead eyes and the tired and numb face that you were forced to realize were your own. No matter how hard you tried, your eyes always seemed to drift back to the unseeing reflection’s, you couldn’t pull yourself away from the person who watched you back wearing your own face.

            You broke eventually, after who knows how long, letting the reflection win. The longer you had stared the less numb your eyes seemed to be, and the creeping sadness was not something you were yet ready to acknowledge, so you turned and walked quietly to the fire. As you passed Joel’s hunched figure, you emotionlessly pulled one of his hands from his face and shoved the roll that you’d nearly picked apart into it. He looked like he wanted to say something, the thoughts pressing against his tongue, but you turned away, grabbing a green and white checkered knitted blanket from the back of the couch you’d thrown your bag on top of hours earlier and reached for your rifle. Glancing through the scope to see if you needed, or wanted, to wipe it clean, as you said, “I’m taking first watch, sleep.”

            “You really sure you’re up for that, North?”

            You paused, back to Joel and closed your eyes, taking a deep breath quietly. You had hoped that Joel’s silence would continue, that the man would take the chance to sleep and let you leave to go downstairs with no fuss or argument, but unshockingly your hopes were dashed. So, you turned, throwing your rifle over your shoulder, gripping at the strap, and schooling your features into being numb and uncaring once more. “I won’t be sleeping for a while, South, so I might as well be fucking useful.”

            Quiet surrounded you both for a few seconds, finding yourself once again locked in a staring contest, this time with eyes that were alive with frustration and were very much not your own. Joel gave in first, a tired sigh as he stood digging something from his bag’s side pocket. “I found this at the daycare…. figured you’d care to read it as well,” Joel levelled you with an unreadable look as he paused and handed the paper over to you. You looked over the folded, water stained and yellowing paper as you gave a small nod, turning to leave. You got a few steps away before his gruff accent had you pausing once more, “An’ North, wake me in a few hours for my watch.” Without turning, you just hummed acknowledging that you’d heard him, before leaving the room for good, scooping up the lantern by the door as you walked past.

            The cold hit you immediately once again as you left the vicinity of the fire, and you welcomed it. The nip brought forth comfort almost, as it pushed away the unfeeling numbness for an aching cold instead. You breathed in and let the cold air burn at your throat as you descended the stairs and entered the old security office situated right next to where the horses both slept, the quiet allowing you to hear their quiet breaths.

            Settling into the chair, you set the lantern on top of the desk and leaned your rifle next to you. It was going to be a quiet night, not much happened during these storms unless provoked, and with the added insurance that there was most likely nothing left lurking in Haywood, you allowed yourself to relax just a little, allowing the knowledge that you were now alone to let the emotions you’d been pushing back slowly wrap around you. The pain and disgust in yourself but also the world you lived in flowed through your body and down your cheeks. You bit your lip, forcing back the growing need to scream and muting the noises you were making. Wiping furiously at the burning trails down your face with the sleeve of your jacket, you curse every man and god responsible for making your world turn into this hellscape, for forcing your hands all in the name of survival, and for putting you through situations that have broken you time and time again, tiring you down and making it harder to keep getting back up everytime.

            You cried your frustrations out, sitting there after a while just letting wetness flow as you glared forward, clenching and unclenching your jaw and hands until both hurt. You didn’t care how long you sat there, it could be an eternity and you still wouldn’t care, but eventually the tears stopped, and their tracks dried, and you could tell that you’d been there for a while as you finally took in the shaking of your hands and numbness of your feet from the cold creeping throughout your body.

            Pulling the knitted blanket closer around your frame, you glanced down at the desk and your eyes caught the paper that Joel had handed you. Flexing your fingers to push away the stiffness of the cold, you reached forward and unfolded the thin sheet of notebook paper. What first caught your eye, past the shaky dark handwriting, was the drops of water that had smudged the words in places. Tears most likely. Then you noticed that it seemed as if whoever wrote the note had taken care and time, making sure no mistakes marred the page, folding it nicely and with love. The whole thing made your heart ache feeling the desperation and deep love of the writer’s words and actions. So, after taking a small breath for a bit of strength as you let your eyes trail over the carefully penned words:

           

I’m sorry, so so sorry.

I couldn’t do it, how could I? They are my babies, my children and I have let them down, failed them in the worst ways possible. I tried, so hard, I tried, but there was too many. I couldn’t take them all myself, not alone, not with what little ammo I had. It took everything, every instinct, every bit of strength, every act of survival just to get the three of us out and not let those things tear us apart. But at what cost? I gave everything to get us out, but it took everything from me in return. My little Lily only 7 and my brave Liam 12, my babies, my children, my last reasons left. Both were infected in the fight to escape, Liam got bit on his upper arm, the fear in his eyes when he noticed once we were to safety, and Lily, her mask broke is the panicked shuffle, forced to inhale toxins and let out wheezing coughs. I’m not sure if it was because they were younger, or what really, but they both managed to hold up for a few days, allowing us to get far away from that basement of hell, but it caught up to us, of course it did. Here though, surrounded by toys and memories of once happy childhoods they were content, Lily smiled, and I broke. I told myself that I would do it, that I would take the few bullets I had left, and I wouldn’t let them turn, that I’d go with them. But as they slept, and as I held the gun up, I couldn’t do it. They’re my children, how could I bring myself to do it? So, I am sorry. I know they won’t wake, not as themselves, come morning, so I just ask of whoever finds them, please grant them the mercy I couldn’t bring myself to give them, let them find me in whatever comes after. I am a coward, and I have failed my children, and I am sorry.

 

            Tears once again dripped freely as you folded the paper and set it aside, wondering if this would be the last time you cried tonight as you knew it was going to be long and you weren’t planning on sleeping, nor planning to wake Joel until morning.

.-. . -- --- .-. ... .

Panic. 

          Blood. 

                     Smoke. 

                      Fire. 

                                    Screaming. 

                            Fighting. 

              Death.

            Blood. 

Panic.

..-. . .- .-.

    You jolt awake, gasping for air. The air that filled your lungs burned, the cold sending spikes of ice through your body after feeling like you’ve run a marathon. Your head was groggy and thoughts slow as you sat up from your slumped position in the office chair. Your back popped at the movement and your neck was stiff from the odd angle you’d fallen asleep in. You didn’t even remember falling asleep, you couldn’t have been asleep for long at all, you remember watching the skies darken throughout the night and then start to lighten as the sun rose, the snowstorm never letting up and falling continuously through the night. As you glanced outside now, it was obvious that there was a thick blanket of snow covering every surface and was continuing to grow thicker with each passing minute.

    Sighing, you pushed yourself away from the desk and stood with a groan, joints aching from sitting in one position without moving for hours on end. You took a second to regain more feeling in your legs and feet, before scooping up the dimmed lantern and your rifle and making your way slowly up the stairs. 

    At the top, you could hear the crackle of a dying fire in the room you’d left hours earlier. Quietly you entered hoping to find your companion still asleep, not quite ready to deal with his frustrated and angry comments, knowing that Joel, the pain in the ass that he is, is going to rip into you for never waking him and staying awake all night instead of trading off for watch. It looked like some god was looking in your favor as when you walked over to the couches, the fire small, nearly burnt itself out and Joel was reclined on a couch, one hand pillowed beneath his head, his other covering his eyes. 

    You set your items down, making sure to double check the safety on your rifle before taking a second to hover your hands over the fire. Your hands and front warmed slowly after sitting chilled for so long, but once it felt like the ice that’d formed in your veins had melted, you gathered a couple of logs to add into the fire, careful not to suffocate what was left of the flames when you placed them in the firepit. 

Stepping back, you sank onto a beaten couch, watching the flames lick over the wood, the embers slowly igniting the new wood. Sighing, you rubbed at your face, rubbing your eyes as bright spots danced in your vision from staring at the fire, hearing the faintest whisper of a voice long lost to time in the back of your head, don’t stare at the sun, you’ll ruin your eyes. An ache formed in your heart as you pushed the voice and its words back into the darkness of your mind, locking them away so they couldn’t hurt you. 

    Joel let out a deep breath in his sleep, drawing you to glance at him for a moment. He looked relaxed, something you’d never seen on his frame as he was always wound tight, tension so ingrained into his muscles that you’d thought it’d be impossible that he’d be able to relax anymore. But here he was, nearly melted into the couch lips slightly part and chest rising softly with each sleep induced breath. You were almost jealous of his ability to sleep so peacefully, but you didn’t dwell on it, everyone had nightmares nowadays, it could just be that Joel didn’t show his outwardly. Or he really could be the sociopath you’d thought he was when you first became acquainted, and what he’s seen, what he’s done, doesn’t bother him. Maybe the asshole was guilt free and not haunted by memories, unlike yourself. 

    Ripping your gaze away from him, you shook your head, your thoughts drifting too close to places you’d rather them not go having only a few hours ago managed to school your mask into place and patched the cracks that’d formed in your walls. It seemed the bricks and mortar were still too wet for your liking.

    Grumbling, you dragged your fingers down your cheeks, mumbling to no one but yourself, “I’d amputate my left leg and pull out all my bottom teeth for a fucking cup of coffee right now.”

    “Maybe you wouldn’t be so tired if you’d woken me like you ‘re supposed to,” Joel’s voice grumbled, gruffer and his accent deeper from sleep. You didn’t even turn your head, just sunk back into the couch fully, huffing glaring at the man through the corner of your eye. 

    “Maybe I tried, and your grouch ass didn’t wake, South.”

    “Bullshit, you never came back up those stairs, North.”

    Grunting, you shook your head and crossed your arms over your chest, turning your gaze to the fire once more. Joel sat up and stared at you, his face blank but you could feel him taking in every discrepancy in your appearance, his eyes looking straight into the walls you’d just rebuilt, pushing against the cement, and frustrating you to no end. You ignored him, at least you tried to act like you were, but his gaze soured you, your face twisting in bitterness minutely but enough that you know his keen eyes picked up on expression. 

    “Still snowin’,” Joel grunted in question, and you just nodded. He hummed and dug in his bag and pulled out a can, tossing it to the cushion next to you. Picking up you saw it was just a can of creamed corn. Lifting your glaring gaze to his own hard gaze, Joel continued before you could say anything, “Good, eat that and sleep.”

    He had tried to sound authoritative and tried to leave no room for arguments, but that tone always was like throwing gasoline on a fire. Scoffing, openly showing your disgust now, gripping the can so tight your fingers ached. Your gaze turned icy, and you bit out, “And why the fuck would I do that? Didn’t realize I gave you the authority to order me about, South.”

    If Joel was a man to roll his eyes you imagined they would have gone to the back of his head with your retort. Instead, his face just went deadpan, and his gaze tinged with frustration.

    “Goddammit, are you a fuckin’ teenager? Fuck, Ellie fights me less than you do,” he pauses just enough to let out a sigh, leaning forward before continuing, “You haven’t eaten since yesterday morning, and I doubt you slept downstairs. I’m perfectly capable of takin’ care of things for a few hours while we wait for the storm. So, eat and go to goddamn sleep.”

    Standing, you stomped over to Joel, leaning down until you were near nose to nose, leveling him with the most ‘go to hell’ look you could manage and slammed the can back into his hand. You glanced over his face before meeting his eyes, the hazel lit with burning emotions.

    “I did sleep, South, just as well as I would have up here and just as fucking well as I do in my own bed back in Jackson,” something flashed in his eyes, a recognition, a knowing, but you ignored it in favor of continuing your tirade, “Some of us don’t fucking sleep, Joel, and I am not hungry, so keep that shit to yourself. I am not going to “eat and go to goddamn sleep.””

    Just as quickly, you stood up straight again, anger coursing through your veins, and moved to turn away, to slink off back to your window from last night, maybe go back downstairs, wanting to be anywhere just as long as it was away from Joel who had you blood boiling. Joel’s reflexes were just as quick though, managing to snag your wrist and pull you to face his now standing stature, a growl in his throat as he said, “What is your problem? Is it what happened yesterday? Didn’t realize it only took two random infected to shake you, North.”

    White, blinding white surrounded you, your actions taken away from your control, barely seeing as you felt your free arm swing up and slam against Joel’s cheek, his facial hair prickling your palm and the smack echoing around the quiet room. Joel stared at you, his barely contained anger written all over his face as your own wrinkled in disgust, ripping your wrist from his hand. Instead of walking away, you pushed into his space, driving the pointer finger of your now free hand into the center of his chest. 

    “Some random infected? You act like they weren’t fucking children. Children! I’m sorry if I am a little shaken after having to kill two children, infected or not doesn’t matter, not when they were the same age as my children were,” anger clouded your words, words that flowed with no filter as all walls came tumbling down. You weren’t seeing Joel, no you were flashing through memories. Viewing the smiling faces of your kids running around a play ground in a small military quarantine zone in Montana, seeing the foggy eyes of the infected little girl as you plunged a knife into her neck, watching as the quarantine zone fell around you trying to escape, reliving the moment that the anti-military group attacking your home set off a bomb causing a building to collapse and take everyone you loved from you, watching your hands bloody themselves digging through fallen bricks before being ripped away as you scream and fought. 

    When your gaze cleared, memories faded away, you found Joel’s eyes staring back into your own, his anger gone, replaced with a look of someone who understands your pain, who has lived through your pain. Your own anger simmering down, disappearing nearly completely, replaced with pain, and hurt so deep you wondered how you still stood upright. You could immediately feel tears cascading down your cheeks once more. You took a step back and shook your head, closing your eyes slowly as you whispered, “They weren’t just some random infected and you know that, South. You read that damned letter too.” 

    Stepping back again, you opened your eyes and turned away, making your way to the window. You paused when Joel’s voice echoed around the room, too loud but quiet all the same. “I was there, just outside the city, when the infected took over the first major city down in Texas,” he paused, and you glanced over your shoulder seeing his gaze staring blankly at the wall in front of him, you turned yourself to watch him better as he continued, “was with Tommy and my daughter…Sarah. We were trying to get out, away from the city, but to many fuckers had the same idea and near every path was blocked by other cars. A car crashed into our own and Sarah broke her leg. The three of us had to run, infected were everywhere running down people, killing ‘em. We did finally get away from them but walked into somewhere just as dangerous. There was a soldier, he shot at us. Tommy killed him, I was fine, but Sarah…she…she wasn’t, she died there and so did a big part of myself.”

    Joel went quiet after that, still not looking at you, eyes fixed on the wall unmoving, unblinking. Your throat felt tight, tears still cascading down your cheeks. Casting your own gaze down, you picked at your nails. You clenched your jaw and took a deep breath.

    “I was in college when that happened. I was married and we already had a son. We were far enough north that by the time the infected reached us the military had already herded us all into quarantine zones, QZs. We were shipped off to Montana and it was peaceful. I found myself with a second kid, a little girl this time with a smile that was infectious and devious to her very roots,” you paused, focusing on digging dirt from under your nails. Swallowing you continued, “An anti-military, anti-QZ, group showed up and started fighting with the soldiers. Each fight escalated until one day the group went too far. It was a warzone, gun fire, fires, explosions…. My husband was trying to get us all out, running through alleys to avoid getting hurt, trying to steer away from the fighting…. But then a bomb went off, or, or something, I’m not sure, but the building next to us collapsed. My husband had been carrying our youngest, holding our oldest’s hand so he didn’t lose him, and I was behind them. It….it was only because I was a few steps behind that I survived. They all went down with the building.”

    Looking up, you found Joel watching you, his eyes tired and knowing. “The Fireflies?”

    You huffed a watery laugh, swallowing as you quoted, “Look for the light… bunch of fake fuckers claiming to be fighting for the greater good while killing people they said they were trying to help.”

    The two of you were quiet for a long time, not moving, both just standing there numb and worn from sharing such raw and painful memories that both of you had told few others. It was you that moved first, walking over to Joel, a tired smile on your lips, probably the first smile you’d actually shown Joel. A shaky breath filled your lungs when you stopped and stood in front of the man once more and whispered, “It was Tommy. He found me ripping my hands apart trying to dig through the rubble. He pulled me away as I kicked and screamed and he made sure I didn’t do anything rash, guided me away from what was once my home and together we found Jackson.”

    The two of you looked at each other for a few more seconds, the shift in your dynamic nearly palpable. An understanding formed, a realization. The two of you were one in the same, each recognizing this now and realizing that is why you both shared so much hatred, each other’s trauma to raw and similar to the other’s that you couldn’t stand to come to close, knowing it would hurt, would bring things up the two of you would rather stay hidden. 

    Sharing a look, gazes meeting, a second realization formed. The two of you both found yourselves with a bond, now drawn together rather than repelled. Both of you content in knowing that there was another nearby that could understand them. 

Joel’s gaze broke from yours, eyes looking behind you as he nodded behind you, “Storm’s breaking, should start to head back while we can.”

-... --- -. -..

    The rest of your patrol passed in a blur. Both you and Joel finding nothing of interest, no more infected was heard or seen, houses and buildings cold and empty. You both took a turn signing into the last two checkpoints. It continued to snow, but only a slow fluttering, never falling faster, and the wind was near nonexistent. It was quiet between the two of you, peaceful now as you both worked as extensions of the other, whereas before it was quiet but the tension and frustration deafening. 

    By the time Jackson was in sight once more, it was night had fallen, the sun having set a few hours earlier. You both were ushered through the gate, and your horses were taken from you to be taken back to the stables and to be looked over and taken care of. You yawned deeply as you checked all your guns back in, signing off that they’d been returned and giving the girl working a quiet smile and a thank you. Joel followed you like a shadow, leaving behind his own weapons, before you both turned to move to the office to give your patrol report. Chances were Tommy had retired back home, or possibly out getting food or a drink, but Maria almost always worked late, and you’d rather give your report tonight than have to wait until tomorrow morning. 

    As the office came into view slowly, lights shining through the windows as you approached. Joel managed to grab the door first, opening it for you as you nodded a tired thanks as you entered, only pausing to knock your boots against the doorframe and kick off the snow sticking to them. Maria glanced up, setting her pen aside when she saw it was the two of you.

    “Tommy was starting to place bets on if you’d both managed to kill each other and that was what was taking so long for you to return. I think he’ll be both glad and disappointed he was wrong.”

    Shaking your head, a tired smile echoed your amusement. Joel stepped up beside you, grunting, “Did you smack him upside the head to bring ‘em some sense? He’s old enough now to know gambling ain’t any good.”

    Maria chuckled and smiled, leveling the two of you with a curious look, “The two of you seem to be in good spirits. A bit surprised to see you both whole, though the looks of that bruise on Joel’s face says things didn’t go completely smoothly.”

    You hummed and glanced at the mark left from your hand, turning back to Maria with a shrug. “He deserved it.”

    Joel stayed quiet, neither arguing nor agreeing, and that seemed to intrigue Maria more. Instead of saying anything just yet though, she just looked back down at her desk and started shuffling through the papers. “So how did the patrol go? Did you find the infected?”

    Your breath stuttered a bit, throat tightening. Thinking about the two was still a bit too much for you, but as you opened your mouth to speak, Joel beat you to it, “North found ‘em, perfect timin’ too, just before the storm really hit. North also took care of them by their self while I checked the rest of the building.”

    Clearing your throat, you added, “There were only two. The rest of the area was clear.”

    Maria eyed the tension in your stance, the pain in your face that you were just barely masking. She saw Joel shifting on his feet, his uncomfortableness nearly pouring off of him. Humming, she stayed quiet looking between the two of you for a few seconds, before sighing and standing, walking around her desk to stand in front of it. 

    “Well there is obviously things you aren’t mentioning, and I won’t push for all the details only because I trust the two of you when you say the area is clear and that’s really all I need to hear,” she paused and after a second gave the two of you a smile finishing with, “I can also see that the two of you have managed to squash whatever fight that’s been keeping you at each other’s throats. Good, I have a feeling that the two of you are going to be an invaluable team in the future. Now go on, go get food, get some rest.”

.-. . ... -

    Jolting up in bed, you first noticed the light seeping in between your curtains of your room. Confused, as it wasn't a sight you'd seen often, the sunbeams nearly foreign. You weren't given a chance to really realize that you'd somehow managed to sleep in and to sleep through the night, before a series of sharp knocks echoed through your home, confusing you more. 

Jumping from bed, you grabbed an oversized green flannel and quickly threw it on. Pulling your door open, you tried to look presentable and not like the person on your doorstep had managed to wake you. 

Joel stood there on your doorstep as you opened the door cautiously, confusing you as he was obviously awkward and uncomfortable. In his hands he held a thermos and two mugs, only one visible to you and you only caught the edge of what seemed to be an owl print on the side. Looking back up at him, your eyebrows pinched together in confusion and curiosity, as Joel cleared his throat, holding up his hands. "Can I come in?"

"Oh, uh, yeah. Just knock the snow off your boots on the rug please," you mumbled, stepping aside. 

Joel came in slowly, carefully getting the snow off his boots and wiping them dry, before you led him to your kitchen. The two of you were quiet, Joel setting his things on your small kitchen island, glancing at you before saying, "I didn't have to pay for this with any teeth or an amputated leg, but I did trade a lot more than I should have."

As he spoke, Joel unscrewed the thermos, letting out an aroma you'd not smelled in more than 20 years. Your eyes jumped to his, as he handed you a mug, the one you couldn't see earlier, this one decorated with an array of wildflowers. Carefully, you took the mug from Joel, smiling brightly as you wasted little time sipping the darkened liquid from the mug with a content sigh. Sipping from his own mug, Joel watched you, taking in the happiness that drifted off of you. 

Meeting his gaze once more, you groaned after another sip and said, "South, I would kiss you right now but this coffee is a little more important to me right now."

Joel, coughed mid sip when you said that, his own coffee going down the wrong pipe in his surprise. Rounding the island, you left your mug in favor of smacking his back a few times, worried asking if he was okay. When the coughing finally subsided, you gently rubbed his back a couple of times, giving him a smile as he cleared his throat and took a breath. 

Joel met your gaze as you smiled at him softly, hand moving to squeeze his bicep, letting yourself enjoy the muscle there for a second, sharing the touch itself was nice in of itself in all honesty. Then quickly your smile turned into a smirk as you moved away, grabbing your mug once more. "By the way, now that I know you have coffee, South, you should know I will be showing up at your house every morning bright and early."

Joel eyed you for a second, face unreadable before he got a soft grin looking down at his mug, glancing up at you again and replied, "I think I can live with that, North."

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