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oonajaeadira · 10 months

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Leave Off Your Wandering pt. 1: Spring

Fandom: The Last of Us (TV)/ Joel Miller

Pairing: eventually Joel Miller x f!reader

Reader: Adult female. Old enough to have been an adult on Outbreak Day. Wyoming born and bred. Sheep farmer, easy-going but confident and self-sufficient. Likes to sing, not a great cook. Childhood friend of Maria. No other physical descriptors; no use of y/n.

Rating: T for now

Warnings: Mostly just Ellie being a swear mouth. There’s a lamb birthing. Fluff…this fic is sloooooow.

Summary: Joel and Ellie return to Jackson and you introduce them to the sheep.

A/N: Set after season 1 and then diverges. Does not acknowledge the existence of further plot/seasons, although I claim the right to steal ideas and bits of cannon from the second game if I want to for plot reasons later.

Here it is, y’all. Not much happens. It’s just life in Jackson. There’s more Ellie here than Joel, but that’s because I figure Joel wouldn’t even turn his head toward someone if Ellie didn’t love her first. I’m just setting the stage for healing, for giving Ellie and Joel a nice home and good things. Nothing happens. Life is slower and softer here. Welcome to the Roost.

You were there when Tommy Miller was ushered–bloodied and busted–by the patrol through the gates of Jackson. The hard steel of Maria’s eyes through the slit between her hat and kerchief found you in the crowd and told you with a glance, I know what I’m doing. Meet me at home.

“Yeah, he’s one of them,” you’d confirmed to her later that afternoon as one of the Roostlings tended to his split lip and eyebrow in her living room. “I say we leave him to the coyotes.”

You’d trusted them once upon a time, the Fireflies. But your experiences with them were a deep education in morals and humanity. What you’ve come to believe is that everyone has an equal right to life and compassion and protection. And you might not have found that in yourself if the Fireflies hadn’t come through your papa’s ranch touting that sentiment but living up to a totally different set of rules, one where everyone had an equal expendability for the greater good of the survival of the species.

Fuck the species. If humans were meant to die out, then they would. Nothing is permanent. Not civilization or any one species, not even the mountains that surround your town–even the wind and rain would take them someday. All you can do is be good to those here and now, nurture what you have, and mourn what you lose with a little humility and gratefulness that you got to enjoy it in the first place. There’s already enough suffering. Why add to it? Or prolong it? Just let us all wane with kindness and compassion. Spend our days eating good food and caring for sheep, wildflowers swaying in the sunshiney breeze and stars twinkling at night–

“You go somewhere, Meadowlark?” Tommy teases as he passes you a plate of honey-glazed carrots, bean salad, and egg souffle, breaking you out of your reverie. You’ve come to prefer his tamales, but Maria wanted to use up some of last year’s supplies, so this Sunday’s family meal is harvest plate.

“I was just thinking about the day you came to Jackson.”

Leaning back in the wooden dining room chair, dark eyes glinting in the candlelight, his smug little smile is insufferable. “You wanted my hide on a fence.”

“Stretched and tanned. Could have been useful for patching boots at least.”

“What was it changed your mind again? Oh yeah. Weatherproofing the storehouse, building out your Roost, constructing a working loom–”

“It was the cornbread. And maybe the tamales.” Keeping a deadpan glare between you while stabbing a carrot and taking a bite, you point your fork at your best friend. “And you’re good to my girl here.”

Maria chuckles through a mouthful, shaking her head down at her plate like a mother trying not to let two warring siblings know how amusing they are. “I regret everything. And nothing.” The same dark eyes that glinted with reservation on Tommy’s first day hold back none of her big, tough heart as they seek him out now. “But speaking of mending shoes…you reminded me. Tommy’s brother came by while you were at the Roost.”

Your fork, halfway to your mouth, drifts back down to the plate. “Joel? Here? How’d he find you?”

Tommy answers carefully, chewing slowly, thoughtfully. “He didn’t, really. Patrol found him. Him and a teenager. They were looking for the Fireflies because…the girl belongs to them or something. Used my last known location and headed out west.”

“From Boston? On foot? And he survived?”

“All the stories I’ve told you about him and that’s what surprises you?”

Tommy’d been an open book from day one, answering Maria’s questions about his background, the QZs he’d lived in, why he felt the need to leave the Fireflies. As they’d grown closer and he joined in your family dinners, there were stories traded from the beforetimes, about his construction business with his brother, how his niece’s death changed them both, the things they’d done to good people just to survive. He held nothing back and owned up to his mistakes. Although he often blamed Joel for actions he willingly took part in. Still, admitted that he used his army training to teach Joel to shoot and unwittingly turned him into a killing machine.

But even so, he missed him. You could see that. Tommy missed his big brother. Wished it could be different, that he could have changed him, brought Joel back from his numbness before it was too late. Best he could do was run away from his regret, swing the other way and try to even out all his wrongs…but then found out that the Fireflies weren’t the answer to any of it. And despite all Tommy had admitted to doing, it was this ability to forgive, to take some fraction of responsibility, and to shelter his light through the darkness that Maria took a shine to.

You involuntarily glance toward the living room, toward the mantle where there’s a polaroid of a ruggedly handsome thirty-five year old man and a girl in fluffy brown pigtails. “Shit, Tommy. You think he’ll head back here?”

“Said he was counting on it.”

There’s a somber silence at the table as everything comes to a halt. Maria’s not exactly chilly, just… reserved. Ah. They’ve already been talking about it.

“Should I be congratulating you on a family reunion or….?”

The sudden winter of their discontent warms to a spring as your old friend goes back to her plate. “Well, it’s yet to be determined. Of course he’s welcome here, but not if he brings trouble.”

“He’s not going to bring trouble, sweetheart. You should have seen him that night we talked. He’s got demons chasing him, but he’s tired of running. He needs good people. We’re good people.”

“Unless he finds those Fireflies and they take him in first,” you interject. “Seems to me they’re just like everyone else, and a man who’s that good at mindless, morally-gray protection is a valuable asset.”

That sets him laughing, breaking the tension, throwing you unexpectedly off-guard after you’d just darkly insulted his kin. “Joel? Join the Fireflies? Not a chance in heaven, hell, or all the shit between! He’ll be back. He’s an asshole, but he’s my brother and I know him. He’ll be back. You’ll see.”

________

The day after coming back from your next shift at the Roost, you find yourself ass to the mud on the street outside the Jackson stables. Two bodies–yours, and that of a larger child–rounding a corner in colliding trajectories. You’d been fiddling with the buttons on your walkie, not watching where you were going, your boots taking you home the way they’ve done for years.

But she’d been moving fast–not running, but walking with that speed that teenagers are only capable of when they’re stomping off in a probable fit of angry hormones.

“Oh, shit, I’m sorry,” she curses, diving for your wayward walkie and the batteries that spit out all over the ground as you get yourself up and your ass dusted off. “Here,” she says, clumsily dumping a cluster of plastic and tech into your hands. “I hope I didn’t break it. Are you like one of the marshals here or something?”

A quick rummage through the jumble in your hands shows no damage and you start pumping the batteries back in, casting a glance around for the compartment cover. “Not quite.” Seeing what you need a few feet away on the ground, you nod at it. “Would you mind getting that cover, miss…er… You know, I don’t think I’ve seen you around here.”

“Ellie.” She watches with interest as you clip the walkie back together and push the activation switch. “I’ve never seen one that small.”

“It’s actually an old kid’s toy. Meadowlark to Whippoorwill,” you mumble into the walkie, your lips nearly touching the plastic speaker, “just had a butterfingers. Testing the walkie.”

“What’s a butterfingers? Are those like code names?” Ellie asks.

Her eyes–black and sparkling–hold your own, a tense moment for both of you as you both hope for different reasons that the machine still works. “Something like that.”

“Whippoorwill here,” comes the voice through the can. “I hear you. Actually need a favor. Send a change of clothes through patrol tomorrow. The big one finally popped and she was a gusher.”

“Damn! I missed it by one damn day? Shit. One or two?”

“Three!”

“Uuuugh. Well that’s just fuckin’ fantastic. Glad you were there to catch ‘em, Whip. This is gonna be a good year. I think Hank’s on the round over there tomorrow. I’ll go pawing through your closet and send some things along.” Starting off in the direction of your friend’s house, you wave back at your new acquaintance. “See ya, Ellie. Nice to meet you. Take it slow around those corners, ‘hear?”

_____

The run-in wouldn’t have been memorable but for the next night when you show up at Maria and Tommy’s place for family dinner, carrying a warm basket of muffins, happy and singing to yourself as you dance in through the door…and come to a stop when four pairs of dark eyes turn to you from the dining room.

Guests? At family dinner? A man and–“Hey there…Ellie, right? Fancy meeting you here…”

The girl smiles from her seat at the table, waving with a hand covered by the sleeve of her raglan top. “Hi.”

“Oh. You know each other,” Maria says, lifting the basket out of your hands. “Then you must have met–”

No. You haven’t met him. But he stands up from the table, wiping a hand on his jeans and extending it to receive yours. Manners. Polite. That’s unexpected knowing the little that you know. His hair is gray now and he’s a bit softer around the middle, more gravity in the cheeks. His ample shoulders have taken weight over the years–literal and emotional.

No, you haven’t met him. But you know him. You’d know those eyes anywhere; studied them in an old polaroid on the mantle just over there. Soft but strong. A good person from another lifetime who was scarred deeply by this one. Someone who cut his soul right down to the quick in order to keep others alive. Those eyes may be a bit more haunted now, but they’re still just as keen.

You never stopped to think that you might someday meet them in person.

“Hi. You must be Joel.” _____

It’s the girls at the table that notice your interest. If left unchecked, your eyes wander across and start to examine the gorilla grip on the fork, the protective hunch over the plate, the beard that’s been newly trimmed and hair recently shaped up (by Maria, no doubt), the scars across the knuckles…temple…nose…

The man’s been through hell and back since the polaroid.

Ellie though…is unscathed, unmarred.

Protected.

And observant. She finally smirks the third time she catches you staring.

Maria’s knee bumps yours to reign you in. He’s not a threat, her eyes say.

This isn’t the time to correct her assumptions, so you put all your focus on your plate or whomever is speaking, whatever isn’t Joel Miller.

“Tomorrow’s work is barrier wall on zone two,” Tommy chews both his words and his venison at the same time. “Once we’ve got that fortified, internal barrier can come down and we can incorporate it as a new section, start safely upgrading the housing there. It’s got a school facility. Be nice to restore that for its intended use instead of using the old record store.”

“Sounds good, count me in,” Joel grunts once he’s politely swallowed his mouthful. “Just put a hammer in my hand and point me at a wall.”

“Just like the good days, eh, brother?”

“Sure.”

“I could swing a hammer” Ellie pipes up.

“You can go to school.”

She scowls darkly at Joel. “Your face can go to school.”

“Ellie–”

“Whippoorwill to Meadowlark.” The walkie on your hip crackles to life and you swallow quickly as all forks stop and all eyes swing to you.

“Meadowlark here. I hear you.”

“Wanted to let you know that all three lambs are hale and made it through the night. Mom’s a little restless, but they’re all safe in the enclosure and I’m doing a sit-in.”

“Thanks for the update. Good to know. You’re in the lead.”

“I know, but Chickadee comes in next week and I bet she takes it. Anyway. Thanks for the clothes and the book, I knew I forgot something. I’ll leave you be unless there’s any change.”

“I’m giving the walkie to Chickadee tomorrow, so you’ll have to egg her on.”

“You know I will. Whippoorwill out.”

Once the radio goes silent, there’s a mix of reactions around the table; pleasant surprise from Maria and Tommy, Joel on guard, his eyes flicking between you and the others waiting to know what it all means, and Ellie’s head twisting around, trying to catch up.

“Three?” Maria trills. “You didn’t tell me there were three new lambs!”

“Yeah. Just missed them. Whip got to do the honors–”

“The big one popped! She was a gusher!” Ellie smiles as the table turns to her. “You were talking about sheep pooping out babies?”

“Ellie, manners. People are eating.” Her guardian glares at her before checking in sheepishly with Maria.

“It’s fine,” you make her excuse. “Ellie head us over the walkies yesterday and–”

“So what’s with the code names?”

The girl is practically vibrating out of her chair with curiosity.

This time it’s your turn to be scrutinized by the newcomers; two pairs of brown eyes hungry for answers.

So you explain while you pick at your dinner.

“There’s a wide acreage outside the settlement walls, on the west patrol loop. We have a good herd of sheep out there. Can’t raise ‘em all in town, there’s not enough room or grazing, although if the winter’s bad, we’ll bring ‘em in to some barns over at the old ranch house.

“But there’s four of us shepherds, each one taking a week at a time out there. Doesn’t require much. Sheep do the hard work of eating and sleeping and rearing their lambs. We do the shearing and milking, send back daily gallons with the patrols–that’ll be the cheese on your salad there. But mostly just make sure they’re healthy and taken care of. Scare off wolves and coyotes if they come sniffing.”

“You go out there alone?” She asks, wide-eyed.

“Sure. It’s pretty secure and the patrols check the fences every day. The Roost is added security for us, since it’s elevated.”

“What’s the Roost?”

“Ah, it’s kind of a fancy treehouse?”

“Thanks to me, I’ll add,” Tommy pipes up. “When I got here, it was nothing more than a shack on a platform. This one here had a target on my back until the day she had four stout walls and a pretty little porch. Won her over pretty quick.”

“Stick built?” Joel asks, shoving a fingerling potato in his mouth.

“Yeah. Reinforced. A-frame. Even pulled windows out of a lodge.”

“Smart.”

Ellie obviously has no time for Construction Corner with the Millers. “You don’t get scared?”

There’s something about her eager wonder that grabs your attention, pulls you in tight, makes you want to answer whatever question she’s got. “There’s nothing to be scared of. I mean, not for us anyway. All of us Roostlings grew up around here. We know the sounds of the animals at night, know they’re more scared of us than we are of them. We’ve seen infected out in the wilds, sure, know what to listen for, but we also know how to defend ourselves if the barriers don’t hold…and they always hold.

“But mostly, it’s relaxing. Quiet. Slow. Time to think. There’s nothing better than a night suspended in the treetops, with the sheep below and the moon and the stars above….”

Joel has stopped chewing, a wistfulness showing from underneath his gruff mask. There’s something thrilling about catching his attention.

A goofy smile cracks Ellie’s face and she giggles, reaches out to punch him on the arm. “Did you hear that? Sheep and stars. It’s everything you dreamed of, buddy!”

“I didn’t mean…” he winces at her brute force and shoots a guarded look at you. “I think I’ll leave the sheep to the shepherds. You said you grew up here?”

It’s the first thing he’s really said to you unprompted and now that you have an excuse to look him in the eye, it’s actually hard to do. “Ah, yeah. Family sheep ranch down in…well, down-river. Not far. Maria too.”

“Spent a lot of time at that ranch growing up,” she smiles. “You and your sister were bad influences.”

“Is that why you up and left us for the big city?”

Maria laughs. “Had to get out before I spent my whole life here. Whoops.”

Joel reins the conversation back. “So you haven’t spent any time in the QZs?”

“No. Holed up at the ranch with…with some folks,” you say as Maria looks away. “Then Jackson was starting up and it was safer here, so I brought in my flock.”

“Hmm,” he grunts, reading your expression, catching the slight omission in your speech. Recognizing survivor’s talk.

You hold his gaze for a few seconds, wondering what your answer is worth to him. You’ve heard of the quarantine zones, knew how rough and miserable they could be. Tommy and Maria both had their stories and you count yourself lucky for never having been unfortunate enough to have to scrabble for existence in one of them. Would have languished and suffocated. Wouldn’t have been able to breathe without the big sky, or sleep without the mountains keeping watch…

Does he think you naive? Or that–wrongly–you’ve had it easy? Does your answer tip the scales in his opinion for the worse?

And what about him? Has the QZ made him dangerous? Hard? Dishonest? Tommy always said he was an asshole…

“Can I see it?” Ellie interjects. “The Roost. Can I go out there with you?”

The question is surprising in more ways than one; most noticeably in its boldness and by your shock in a kid getting so excited about sheep. “Uh, yeah, sure. I mean, that’s why there’s a bunk bed. We bring folks out there all the time. But you have to be willing to work while you’re out there.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Joel grumbles with a tight jaw, stabbing a potato with his fork.

Maria had explained to you the circumstances of Joel carting the girl across the country. To get her that far unscathed? To get her to the Fireflies… He must not have found them or he would have come back alone. Maybe they were dead.

Not that that would be a bad thing.

The girl is smart. Better off here.

But it seems no amount of time can take the father out of the man and he’s fallen into the role for her pretty hard, his jaw twitching as he balances between politeness and worry.

“It’s completely safe, brother. Walled in. Patrolled. In communication, as you’ve witnessed. And the Roostlings are all pretty skilled with a shotgun. She’ll be fine. Might do her some good.”

“Come on, Joooooooel. It’s sheeeeeeeep. In a treehouuuuuu-suh.”

He takes his time chewing. Keeps his eyes on his plate.

“We’ll see.”

“Well,” you smile, winking at the girl across from you, “I just got off my shift, so you’ve got three weeks to warm up to the idea before I go back.”

“Do I get a codename?” She wiggles in her seat, grinning hard at Joel, goading him.

“Sure. I don’t know. You’re pretty spikey. How about Thistle?”

“What?” This dismays her and gets a choke–and then a chuckle–out of Joel. “Why can’t I have a bird name?”

“Because you’re not a Roostling. You have to earn your wings.”

This sets her jaw in a challenge. “Oh. I’ll earn it. I’ll earn it so hard you don’t even know. Bring it on. Take me to the fluffy bastards.”

“Ellie, dammit!”

_____

“So, he’s, uh….” you hand a dish to Maria so she can dry.

“Less than personable?” She finishes, keeping her voice down so as not to be heard by the brothers chatting on the back porch.

“Got some adjusting to do if he’s gonna fit in here, I was going to say.”

“He makes you nervous though. I can tell.”

“No. Not…like that…I just…” It’s best to avoid her keen eye, but catch her surprise out of the corner of yours. “It’s just–”

“My oldest friend in this god-forsaken world,” she declares, throwing the dishtowel on the counter and settling hands on hips. “You are telling me that? That is the man that is turning your head?”

“No. That’s not…He’s…” a growl of frustration follows, trying to scare your thoughts into cohesive order as you scrub glaze out of a pan. “It doesn’t happen that often, you know? Someone from the past showing up and there’s all this…change. I mean, he’s not really from our history, but you’ve had that picture of him and his daughter sitting out and there’s this face from the past just…looming. Like, there was this man who lived and worked construction and then the worst day happened and his child was killed and the person he was just got…replaced with that guy. It’s…I’m just morbidly fascinated by what twenty years in a post-hell society can do to someone. I mean…that smile in the polaroid…he was so warm and healthy…”

It isn’t until this moment that you realize what Maria begins to surmise. The pan and washcloth are abandoned.

“So you’ve had a crush on a man from the past all this time, making your castles in the sand. And you’re disappointed that he showed up and was that.”

She generously and lovingly gives you the time to think.

“Maybe. I don’t know. He’s still good looking, so you have to give me a little slack there. But I don’t know him. Didn’t know him. It’s just an interesting thing, you know? A little fantasy of the beforetimes? One that didn’t really line up way I imagined it?”

Maria begins to laugh kindly and quietly. Then a little less kindly and a lot less quietly. “Oh shit, that man came here for sanctuary and didn’t know he walked into a full-on trap.”

“Hey!”

“No. No. That’s not fair and I’m sorry,” she concedes, taming her laughter somewhat unsuccessfully. “Just go easy on him, okay? He’s Tommy’s brother.”

“Well, then that’s as good a reason as any for me to stay on my side of the creek bed. And, to be fair, those other guys? They came after me first. I have no interest in men that have no interest in me. So it looks like he’s safe.”

“For now,” she smirks. “But. If Tommy keeps me up at night complaining that you’ve busted a bottle over his brother’s head–”

“That was one time! And that guy was a fucking jerk!”--now you’re both laughing–”Which, I guess, yeah, if Joel’s as much an asshole as Tommy says, then maybe I should play it safe and apologize to y’all in advance!”

Thank goodness you have each other to lean on, or you’d both be rolling on the floor in a cackling mess. _____

It only takes a fistful of days and as many shy nods in passing around town for a knock to come at your door one evening.

“Well…hey there….Mr. Miller. What can I do for you this evening?”

The generated streetlights don’t come all the way down your block, and he blinks in the candlelight coming from your open door, his jaw gaping slightly before sealing shut, blocking any words that want to come.

Stepping back, you let the door open wider for him. “I was just putting a snack together. You wanna come in?”

“No, I..don’t…”

You’ve seen this look before from folks new to Jackson. From folks who’ve had to keep what they have to survive. Folks who lived among others who would never offer up anything for free without the expectation of payback and therefore have forgotten–or perhaps never experienced–the simple joy of receiving hospitality.

“You don’t want to come in? Or you don’t want to eat my cooking? Because I’d be offended by either.”

Walking away from the open door has the desired effect and he finds his way to the front room sofa in view of the kitchen on his own.

It allows you to watch him check off the boxes as you put together a tray. Telltale sign of the long-hauler as he scans the rooms for exits and places where a threat could be hiding. Check. Then the sign of the QZoner as he studies his surroundings, taking in a home that’s lived in but not damaged by twenty years of decay or depression. Check.

That finally leaves him open to be vulnerable, and you watch to see if he’ll allow himself to be at ease.

The way his fingers curl and uncurl on his knees, how he looks away when you catch his eye.

You wonder if he’ll ever really sink in. Having family here will help.

“You drink, Joel Miller?”

“Depends,” he answers vaguely, but nods with certainty.

Your offering is simple, rye crackers on a plate, a disk of sheep’s milk cheese with a knife in it, two tumblers, and a bottle of sunshine.

“You all are sure generous with your whiskey around here,” he comments as you pour him a full glass.

“Not whiskey. Cider.”

He frowns. “Cider? You make this?”

“I’m not that talented,” you wave your hand over the cheese and crackers. “As you can see, this is what I consider cooking. Like most things here, I traded for it. There’s an orchard a ride out. Gone wild. It gets harvested once a year and there’s a cider press in town. Couple of ladies spend a good month canning and bottling.”

“Seems like the women run the show around here,” he says, impressed, taking a sip and then staring hard at the glass. “Holy shit.” You’re not sure at first if that’s a good or bad expression until he goes in for another drink.

“That make you nervous? Ladies brewing up the good stuff?” You only laugh at his impression of a deer in the headlights. “I suppose if you’ve spent enough time around Maria, it’s easy to think that. It’s just a very empowered place for everyone. Everyone’s got something to contribute that gives them some pride and gets them some respect. And I guess, in that way, you don’t have to worry about Ellie here. I can tell she’s gonna find her place and do just fine.”

“That’s actually what I came by for,” he says, distracted by the cider. “You know how long it’s been since I’ve had a drink of something that doesn’t burn?”

“It’s sweet, yeah?”

“Yeah. It’s been a minute since I had anything sweet.”

You let that hang, watch him examine the amber liquid…or, rather, a memory swirling in its depths.

Twenty years of a broken heart can’t be good for a person.

“You came to talk about Ellie?”

It takes him a second to realize you’re addressing him, but he only nods, and finishes the glass. When you pick up the bottle to pour him another, he quietly stops you with a gesture and the tiniest shake of the head. No. “You ever have raiders come by your Roost?”

“We’ve seen raiders in the area. They’ve attacked the town border before. Always small groups. Hungry. They don’t have the numbers or the ammo round these parts.”

“But what about out there in the open?”

Crossing your arms and leaning back in your seat, you let him know he’s being assessed, let it sink in that he might be over-protective and has the right to be scared but doesn’t need to be. Realize he may never grow out of his defensive conditioning.

“I’m not going to lie to you, Joel Miller. There’s always a chance. But I don’t know if there are any words I can say that would magically put you at ease. There’s one thing I can see though, you care a lot about that girl. I reckon you’re here tonight because she’s bugged you about going out there. And you hate disappointing her, so here you are. But you’re also afraid of letting her out of your sight.”

He doesn’t look at you. Just rolls his glass between his wide palms.

Ducking forward, you do your best to get your smile in his eyeline. “Since I can’t convince you with words, I’ll do it with evidence. Ride out there with me tomorrow and see for yourself.”

“I don’t…that’s not what…”

“Hey. Good parents want their kids to be safe. I know the type.” It was meant to put him at ease, but you realize a bit too late that your words were poorly chosen. It’s difficult to read his emotion; there may be a few going on at once.

Most of them break your heart.

An apology would only make it worse. “Tomorrow morning. Stables. Dawn.”

________

He doesn’t like to talk much, Joel Miller. Knows his way around a horse like a true Texan should, completely at ease with a shotgun strapped to his back, but doesn’t seem to want to spoil the silence. Or perhaps he’s just always on guard. That’s okay. You like the sounds of the morning. The crunch of the woodland floor, the sweep of the wind in the leaves. The birds have been up for hours already, their voices warmed up and singing clear. It’s still chilly at daybreak this time of year and steam rises from the horses’ noses, mixing with the fog of the dew evaporating in the rising sun.

After a good half-hour ride through dappled forest light at a leisurely pace, you take up the walkie that you’ve borrowed from Chickadee.

“Meadowlark to Whippoorwill.”

Seconds and trees roll by as you wait for your answer. No hurry.

“Whippoorwill here. You taking another shift? You’re a day early.”

“Nope. Just giving a new resident a tour and letting you know we’re coming in at the north passage. Put some clothes on and don’t shoot us.”

“I make no promises.”

“Don’t ever change, Whip.”

As you come to a ravine and dismount, Joel finally pipes up. “Put some clothes on?”

“Yeah,” you explain, leading the horse down the steep incline, “Whip’s a nudist. Don’t ever show up at her house unannounced if you aren’t ready for a lot of skin.” When he doesn’t know what to say, you smile over your shoulder. “Just fucking with you. Although, there is a stream to the south we all like to skinny dip in come summer.” Another baffled look from him, and another sly smile from you.

He’s distracted by this to the point that he actually flinches when the barrier appears before him. “The hell?” he exclaims, examining a hedge of vines growing up over a twelve-foot tall wall of stone. “You don’t even notice this from the top.”

“Nope. That’s the point. Doesn’t look like a wall from up there, just looks like a hedge from down here. Most people don’t want to make the effort to climb down but if they do, they just assume they have to find another way.”

“This is the meadow perimeter?”

“Well, this gate anyway. A lot of it is woven steel gage and cliffs that only goats can manage. Most of it is natural barrier or camouflage like this so you wouldn’t even know there’s anything being protected.”

“Huh. Clever.”

“Welcome to Jackson Meadow, home of the Roost.”

After displacing and replacing some facing shrubs, you’re able to coax the horses through a narrow tunnel and up a gentle rise that eventually opens out into a sweeping field in a valley under the face of the butte.

It’s still early enough that the wildflowers are just slivers of purples and yellows behind their bud casings, but they spread far and wide across the green expanse, broken only by the random white-gray lumps of grazing sheep. The sun is just beginning to break over the surrounding mountains to the east, but once it spills over, it will only make the spring colors of the valley more vivid than any surviving photograph, more picturesque than any oil on canvas…probably. It’s been decades since you’ve seen a landscape painting, so what the hell do you know.

Able to ride side by side now, you make another study of your companion. And there’s a war going on inside him. You can tell he’s taken by the raw beauty of the meadow, but twenty years of looking over his shoulder makes him nervous in wide open spaces and his eyes won’t stop moving between the grasses and the treeline, constantly appreciating, constantly scanning.

“Relax, Mr. Miller. Enjoy the view. You’re in good hands. See that patch of trees up there?” You nod to a wooded area near the center of the expanse. “Roost is in there. I guarantee you Whip has eyes on us and everything in this valley right now.” Raising a hand over your head with three fingers raised, you use the other hand to point to them.

The walkie smacks on and Whippoorwill’s steady drawl comes out. “Three.”

You wave. Smile at Joel. “See?”

He relaxes in the saddle and a quiet, ponderous minute goes by before he works up the bother to ask whatever’s tumbling around in that head of his. “Why do you keep calling me that?”

“What.”

“Mr. Miller. I’m no mister. It’s just Joel.”

Things are slow in Jackson, people take their time. As you do with your answer. “Maybe it’s my way of keeping a distance, Joel Miller. You seem like the kind of man that likes people to keep their distance so he can get a good read and make sure it’s safe to approach.”

Twisting with a frown, he scans you as if he’s never really looked before, maybe a little annoyed that you have his number.

You dismount your chestnut mare some distance before reaching the trees, leave the reins to the saddle and let her be, walking over to the nearest duo of sheep–a mother and baby. The ewe bleats at you out of habit, but knows you’re no real harm. She watches her lamb though, chewing when she remembers to.

This lamb is still very young and you’re not sure if it will remember. There’s a bounce to the left, and then two to the right, and then each leg steps carefully as he haltingly makes his way forward. You’re able to scoop him up and turn him over in your arms like a baby, instantly quelling him, and his legs hilariously splay.

“What’d you do to it?” Joel, having followed suit and let his horse graze, walks up and there’s the tiniest smile as he gazes down at the creature in your arms.

“Nothing, that’s just what they do when you turn ‘em over. Here.” You don’t even tell him to put his arms out or ask if he wants to hold the lamb, you simply get close enough and the man’s instincts kick in. All you have to do is hand him off.

Joel’s surprised at first, flinches a bit when the lamb wiggles in his arms–the tiniest protest to being transferred to an unfamiliar nanny. But then both of them calm and you have to stifle a laugh as the two of them just…stare at each other. The lamb in his lamby wonder, and Joel like a new, star-struck dad.

Going about your business, you begin checking the creature’s general health, pushing at the belly, checking the mouth. “This one was born on my last watch, so he’s only about ten days old.”

“Really,” Joel sighs, totally enchanted, not even realizing that he’s instinctually bouncing the lamb a bit. The father in him showing its face again.

“Yep. And,” you indicate the mother, now watching a bit more closely since there’s an unfamiliar human involved, “I birthed that one too. And probably most of her whole line for the last twenty years or more. All of them were as little as this one, and all of them survived. And if the Roost can raise flocks and flocks of dumb little sheep, we can certainly take care of one smart little girl.”

When he scans you this time, it’s clear you’ve given him reasoning that resonates.

He allows you to lift the lamb from his arms, watching thoughtfully as the little thing springs away past its mother and tumbles into some lupines head first. After it recovers and bounces a little more, you bring Joel’s attention to the trees a few hundred meters to the south.

“You can just catch the Roost there, see? The A-frame sticks up above the treetops. And that’ll be Willa at the porch railing.”

He squints. “How do you get up?”

“Retractable ladder. Tommy rigged it for us. You gotta be in it to win it. You’re either up it or fuck it. Ergo, if the ladder’s up, you don’t get in.”

“Huh. How do you get supplies up? Pulley?”

“Yup.”

“Huh.”

It’s a quiet ride back to Jackson, and you do your best not to look over your shoulder to gauge his reaction, like Orpheus leading Euridice out of Hades trying not to lose a tenuous chance for Ellie to spread her wings. It’s not every day a young person wants to learn the shepherding gig. Most of them want to stay in town near their friends, or are too afraid of the world to venture out. Ellie though, she’s been in the world. Observant. Eager to learn. Fearless.

The sheep could use someone like her.

You could too.

It’s when he’s busy unsaddling his horse in the stables that he clears his throat, and you let the curry brush lighter over your horse’s coat so you can hear him think out loud.

“Yeah that works,” he mumbles. “Think it might be good for her.”

Poking your face over your mare’s shoulder and waiting to catch his eye, you release the hounds of smiletown. “You’re right. And probably good for you too, Joel Miller.”

____

“Whoa, coooooool!!!” Ellie says for the fourth time on the ride from Jackson as she spies the Roost through the trees.

Over the past few family dinners, Ellie asked a million questions about this week–how to stay warm, where to bathe, if the sheep bite–anything and everything, even if it was common sense.

And with every answer she’d listen, enrapt, her eyes flicking to Joel now and then. It became obvious to you–although maybe not to the others–that she was asking not so much for her own good, but to calm Joel, signal that she was thinking ahead and covering all the bases, that even if she already knew the answers it might calm him to hear them too.

A little overkill. But the concern they showed for each other while trying not to be sappy about it was endearing you to both of them.

And perhaps Joel was calmed; maybe not so much by the answers you gave, but the way you gave them--calmly, indulgently, and with just a little bit of sass to show you could keep up with Ellie’s tongue and put her in a figurative headlock when she got too cocky. You caught Joel smiling down into his plate a few times. And at you a few more.

He’s got a good smile. It comes out more often now.

A duffel bag lands on the ground at the base of the Roost’s tree and your horses jump a little. Then there’s a cheerful trill from above, “I’ll be right down! Just packing up the wool!”

“No rush, Goldie! We’ll go water the horses while we wait.”

Ellie follows your lead you as you dismount to pull the packs off the horses–bulky with a week’s weight of food, water, and clothes–before climbing back into the saddle and heading off to the south.

“There’s a creek up here flows right down from the Tetons. Purest, cleanest water you’ll ever see.”

“Can you drink it?”

“Absolutely. You, me, the sheep, it’s for all of us. We humans boil it first, of course.”

Ellie’s nose wrinkles. “Seems a waste. I mean, if it’s coming down from the mountains it’s really cold right? We hardly ever had cold water in the QZ. It’s so good when it’s cold.”

“You’ll be singing a different tune when you have to bathe in it.” Her face falls and you can’t help but laugh, hauling yourself out of the saddle and guiding the beast through the pebbled creekbed. “Believe me, come summer, you’ll be plenty happy with how cold it is.”

Once the horses are watered it’s a leisurely stroll back to the Roost, handing the reins over to a tall, veritable Viking of a woman, stong-boned and willowy all at the same time, the long golden braid spilling down her back and curls springing out from the sides of her face giving her the appearance that she’s wearing a lazy albino scorpion on her head. Her blue flannel matches her eyes and clashes with her sunburned cheeks.

“Ellie, this is Goldfinch, our junior Roostling.”

The woman takes Ellie’s small hand in her long, sturdy fingers. “Maybe not so junior if you pull yourself up on board.”

“Goldie started with us about ten years back when she was around your age.”

“Ten years ago?” Ellie asks. “There hasn’t been any new shepherds since then?”

The Rootling shares a concerned look with you before you answer, “Well, there have been, but not all of them stuck.” And you put the question to rest by helping Goldie pack up your horse. “Shit, this is a lot of wool. How many did you do?”

“About twelve?” She answers. “I’m only taking ten worth. Left the rest for you.”

“Damn, you must have been bored. Ellie, can you hand me that duffel? Thanks.”

As Ellie brings the bag to you, she’s also scanning the thatch of forest where the Roost stands. “So she’s taking the horses? She doesn’t have her own?”

“Horses are a sign of civilization,” Goldie offers. “Especially if they’re on a picket line. And we like to keep it not so obvious that we’re out here. We’d have to keep them on picket or they’d just wander off back toward the gate an s hang out there wanting to go home and give away that location.”

“Besides,” you explain, “won’t need ‘em until we go back to Jackson. Safest place to be in the whole pasture is the Roost with the ladder up and a loaded shotgun nearby, not trying to saddle up to ride off. If there’s trouble, we can hold out the time it takes for a posse to come down from town.”

“Is there ever trouble?” Ellie wonders, just slightly concerned.

“Never yet,” you wink.

Finally there’s the ceremonial clink of the walkies, acknowledging that the leaving Roostling is taking hers home and the new occupant has one with a completely restored battery. “Patrol, this is Meadowlark taking over for Goldfinch.”

A few quiet seconds. A pinecone drops nearby.

Then a man’s voice from the speaker. “Meadowlark, this is patrol, we read you. We’ll be hitting east gate around noon today. Anything you need?”

“Nope, we just landed. By ‘we’ I mean me and a learner. New girl, Ellie Williams. Callsign Thistle.”

“Copy. Welcome to the Roost, Thistle.”

Ellie beams, then blinks as you hold the walkie to her face, and you nod her a nod of encouragement.

“Thanks…patrol. Uh…Thistle over and out.”

“Good job, kid,” Goldie says, hoisting a leg over the horse and taking the reins of Ellie’s mare from you. “Have a good week, you two. May your days be filled with storms.”

Once she’s out of earshot, Ellie turns to you. “Storms?”

You strap a pack over each shoulder and start climbing the ladder. “We’re in friendly competition with each other to have the most lambs born on our watch and shear the most sheep. If it rains it can be miserable work at best and impossible at worst and we’re less likely to make good numbers. So it’s an affectionate curse.”

“Oh. Seems cruel to the sheep.”

“What do you mean?”

Shouldering a smaller pack, Ellie starts climbing behind you. “Wishing for storms when they have to be out in it.”

“Eh, they’re happy as clams when it rains. They’ve got wool sweaters already.”

“I’ve never worn a wool sweater.”

Reaching the top, you wait for her to crest so you can see the look on her face when she does. “Then you’re in for a treat. It takes a lot to waterlog wool. Rolls right off. You’ll see. You’ll love it. And that’s not even mentioning the socks!”

“What does happy as a clam mean–” she begins, but stops abruptly as her face comes to the top of the ladder, her mouth opening in awe, rounding in concert with her eyes. “Whoa! Holy shit!!!”

The Roost as a whole isn’t all that large and can be crossed in half a dozen steps. Roughly a seven meter square platform, it holds a one-room cabin with a balcony running along the north and east sides. The windowed, A-frame peak looks out to the north pasture and the roof slopes just out and above the east balcony to shade it in a cascade of knotty pine. Windows wrap all but the west side, the interior wall of which has a simple built-in double cabinet bed with a single bunk running across its head above.

It’s this cabinet bed that draws Ellie inside, and you watch her slowly take in the rest of the cabin, with its rustic table and chairs–Goldie left a couple Indian Painbrush in a mug of water in the sun–the windowed corner with the soft, plush, patchwork pillow chair and a basket full of wool roving, the opposite corner with its woodstove upon a harlequin tilework patch of floor and the spare array of cooking tools on spiraled iron hooks in the knotted wood walls.

The honey dark timber stretches overhead to a peak, from which hangs dried strands of vegetables and herbs, higher up a set of snowshoes, a number of straps and ropes–a butcher’s hook among them, the one arguably ominous tool, meant to make dragging a bloated carcass easier…although it is rarely needed anymore.

Even though the Roost has become your home away from home, the fresh smell off the boards and the dust motes dancing in the sun make you pause and smile every time.

It’s just comfortable enough for two people, a generous hideaway for one, and your favorite place in the whole world. There’d been more than one occasion where you thought about asking Tommy to build you its replica in Jackson, but it would be a shame to ruin its uniqueness…and, of course, there were higher priorities in town.

“Is that where you sleep?” Ellie points at the cabinet bed.

“Yep. Or you, if you want. There’s a bunk. I’ll take whichever you don’t want.”

Bouncing over to the side of the cabinet with the recessed ladder, she climbs, pats the mattress, and frowns. “Why’s it all lumpy?”

“It’s filled with fleece. Same down here. It doesn’t feel lumpy when you sleep on it. Feels like a cloud hugging you. How’s the view up there?”

Ellie pets the bunk mattress another second or two, considering it, before turning out with a smile, “It’s–” but the smile fades when she sees beyond the four meter peak of the cabin and out through the windows for the first time.

Turning to face outward--to see though her eyes–-the sun is breaking fully over the butte, filling the valley like a warm, golden bath, serving up a green to the eye that exists nowhere else in the world. It never gets old and is beautiful from every angle, especially this view from the treetops, birds-eye.

Wordlessly she descends the bunk ladder behind you and wanders out to the balcony, resting her forearms against it, staring out at the vista, and you let her have it while you unpack the bags, situate the supplies, assess the woodpile, toss a set of fresh sheets on each bed.

Once finished with the settle in, you join Ellie where she’s drifted to the other side of the balcony, looking out at the north pasture where the sheep like it best.

After a moment she asks quietly, “What was this place before?”

“This land?” you specify, and she nods. “It was just this. A valley meadow. Native land.”

“It’s hardly touched out here. No broken buildings. No bomb craters.”

“Nope. This place was never really that urban. Even with all those people, some wild places remained. Some were actually sanctioned by the government as untouchable natural places, just to let the animals live and the trees grow. It was for everyone to enjoy.”

“National parks.”

“Yeah, that’s right. This was part of a park like that. But Jackson wasn’t densely populated. Didn’t spread as fast out here. We were low priority. No bombs. So many of us lived on our own land that when the governments came to round any of us up, we’d take up arms and hold our ground. It’s what my sister and I did when they came at our ranch. I think after a while military just left the area thinking if we all got infected it could only spread so far before it just finished off the population and had nowhere left to go.”

“Did it?”

“Oh it came, but it didn’t take everyone. It wandered in later, like everything does out here. Cordyceps are like a fashion. It spread in the urban areas first and made its way out here eons later. But there were fewer people in a lot larger space…and a lot more guns. It was easy to stamp out.”

Ellie’s not like most of the other kids in town who nod at your ancient stories of the olden times. To them, this is the world as it is and how it will be and stories of how it used to be are less than monumental, just a passing curiosity for aimless evenings around a fire. But Ellie’s attention reaches beyond the meadow, beyond the mountains, beyond what she can see. It stretches out in time and tries to divine the past and what might have been; she tries to calculate what exactly was lost and in what ways it’s actually better. A life she could have had versus the one that’s brought her here to this balcony in the morning sun.

A far off bleat becomes a signal for the reverie to break, and you bump your shoulder against hers.

“C’mon. I’ll show you how we do the rounds.”

_____

After a few days, Ellie is doing the morning rounds on her own, reporting in when she notices an ewe in a lay, keeping an eye out for cast sheep–“You see a sheep on its back, do whatever you can to right it, you’ve got about twenty-four hours until they die there of bloat and stupidity,”--and generally letting them all get to know her.

“You’ll need to take your time. Let the lambs come to you or the mammas get emotional about it. Treat ‘em light and gentle for a while. If the ewe sees no need to watch you anymore that means she trusts you and you can pet and pick up the little ones if they let you. But they start cryin’, best to put ‘em down and let ‘em run. Never chase them. You chase them and never let them come to you, they’ll run when you need to get to them most. Take ‘em some apple or carrot and they’ll be your friend forever. Squash and pumpkin are good too. Sometimes I’ll bring out a pocketful of oats. Don’t tell the stablemasters in town; they’d have my ass.”

By mid-week if you couldn’t find Ellie, all you’d need to do was climb up to the Roost and survey the green meadow for the contrast of her red tshirt and you’d spy her sprawled out in the grasses surrounded by a clutch of lambs and ewes. The girl was a sucker for animals.

Shearing went by faster with someone there to hold hooves and legs or just keep the lambs within sight so any ewe under the shear wasn’t kicking to check on her baby. It might have been Ellie’s least favorite part except for the evening time task of carding wool (“Boring”) and drop spinning (“Impossible”).

“Motherfucker,” she whispers, singing a song of hatred at the breaking threads on her spindle, throwing her hands out and taking a dramatic fall backward onto the wool rug she’s sitting on.

“Patience, young grasshopper. It’s not a fast skill; it can take years to learn to spin consistently,” you laugh in the warm glow of the lantern, your spindle wizzing as your yarn pulls at an even gauge, “and all you have out here is time. You’ll get it.”

“Grasshopper? Have I graduated from Thistle?”

“Nope, sorry. Old joke, before your time.”

Abandoning her work and rolling over to her belly, Ellie kicks her stockinged feet lazily in the air and pulls at the fibers in the rug. “There’s only one more day left and there haven’t been any new lambs.”

“Season’s slowing down some. They’ll be fewer and further between.”

“Don’t you wanna win?”

“Win at numbers? Not if it means the health of the sheep. They’ll birth when they birth. Besides, nobody’s beating Willa this year. Those triplets made that a certainty.”

“Whippoorwill’s name is Willa. Chickadee’s name is Addie.”

“Yup.”

“So everyone turned their name into the closest sounding bird except you.”

“Nah. We’re just not real clever with the names is all. Goldie’s name is Pam. We just call her Goldfinch because she’s a blond. Probably wouldn’t even have callsigns but that it makes it easier to hear over the walkie.”

“So what about yours then? Why Meadowlark?”

You smile. “Larks are songbirds. I like to sing when I’m out here. I’ve been caught at it so many times, I don’t even hide it anymore.” You belt a made-up melody loudly out through the open window into the night, “Isn’t tha-a-at ri-ight you wooly ba-a-a-asta-a-a-ards!”

A sleepy sheep calls back in irritation.

“You’re a weird lady.”

Ellie laughs begrudgingly, sits up with a grunt and starts picking at her thread again, squinching her mouth at the lumps. “So if I become a Roostling, I don’t get to pick my own bird?”

“I’m sure we could make an exception. Why? You got one in mind? Because left to us you’d probably be a red-bELLIEd something-or-other.”

“Ha ha. Fine. I don’t know much about birds. Mostly just pigeons in Boston.”

“Well fuck if I’m gonna call you Pigeon.”

The night’s starting to chill down a little and she hugs her knees into her chest, setting her chin on them in thought. It’s about time to close up the window and put a few logs in the stove, but Ellie’s attention wanders up and out among the stars.

You have so many questions. Were all the kids in Boston as stubborn and wild and foul-mouthed as her? Where were her parents? Dead, most likely, but how did she survive them? How did she meet Joel? Did she smuggle run with him? She’s a fair shot with a shotgun, but not practiced. Did he get her here all by himself? That takes a lot of luck and skill. He must care about her a lot to bring her with him all this way, to keep her safe….

“So it was just you and Joel out there for a long time, huh.”

“Yeah.”

“I bet you’re happy to finally have somewhere warm to sleep. Traveling during the winter would have been rough. Good thing it was a milder one this time around.”

She gives a pathetic shrug. “I dunno. I liked it. Just us under the stars. We looked out for each other.”

“Well, you have a lot of folks who will look out for the both of you now. And if you need someone to look after, well, these sheep could really use you.”

Unexpectedly, she laughs, something you’ve said keeps her in the giggles for a while. “One night we were camping and I asked Joel where he wanted to go most in the world and he said he wanted to settle down and farm sheep. This is kind of his dream. But then he said that he wanted to be a musician. Maybe he should be the one out here with you to watch sheep and sing.”

“Maybe. Does he have a tolerable voice? The sheep are picky, as you’ve heard.”

“I don’t know, he wouldn’t sing for me,” she squishes her cheek into her knee, giving you a shit-eating grin and a teasing sing song. “But I bet he’d sing for you if you asked him.”

“Oh, I’m sure,” you smile and wink, trying to hide your chagrin under a swirling cape of nonchalance. “I can be very persuasive. But...I don’t think Tess would like that so much.”

“How do you know about Tess?”

“Tommy has his tales. They were quite a little family unit for a while. I’m actually surprised she didn’t show up here with you two.”

This sobers her, turns her attention back out to the stars, halting her response. “She would have…. but she didn’t make it.”

A chilly breeze sweeps through the window, and you’re not quite sure if it’s the drop in the air or your heart that makes you shiver.

Tess didn’t make it. In the world as it is, that means one thing. You wonder what happened. How. If it was horrific��of course it was, you can see it in Ellie’s hardened eyes that it was–and how much it affects her or doesn’t. It’s so difficult to tell with kids these days. In the end though, it hardly matters how. In all the myriad of ways it could have happened, it would have ended the same.

You wonder if Tommy knows.

You suddenly feel ashamed of that selfish little spark of hope it sparks in you.

But while what you know about Joel Miller could fill a book, what you don’t know about him could fill a library.

And you’ve had enough time pass through you to know that a lot of patience and a little observation can go a long way towards preventing disaster.

Thoughts for another time.

“What about you, kid, hmm? What was your answer? In all the world, where would you go?”

But you’d already guessed, seen the longing in her face every night this week and see it now as she looks out the window at the silent silver satellite in the sky.

_____

“Ow, dammit! Just keep a good hold on her back legs so she stops kicking me!”

The lamb is breach and you’re halfway up to your elbow in sheep, trying to push at the little one’s one back haunch to clear the way for the other leg. Ellie, wide-eyed and trembling with excitement keeps letting the ewe’s leg slip and you’d be laughing if the hooves didn’t pack such a punch.

You must have seen a thousand sheep born and assisted in a high percentage of those in your lifetime, but this one manages to give you a new rush. It’s the morning you’ll be heading back to Jackson and you were afraid you’d go all week without Ellie getting to experience a birth. Here it is, and she’s just as thrilled as you’d hoped and all you have to do is make sure both the lamb and the ewe make it through.

It doesn’t take much–a little push, a little twist, a little pull, a little gasp from Ellie–you’re able to get both back hooves in your hand and the little one comes sliding out in a gloopy mess onto the grass. Your favorite flannel is caked with blood and you’ll have to go straight to the launders with it on arrival back in town…

…but it’s all worth it when the baby bleats the tiniest baa and Ellie giggles and clutches her cheeks.

“Holy shit! That was awesome! It’s so tiny! Can I name it? Like Snowball or something?”

The footfalls making their way through the meadow proceed Willa’s answer, “You don’t have to do that. The earth and the sky and the wind will name her themselves.”

Leaning back to acknowledge not only your friend and her arrival, but also a broad form following her clad in denim and gristle.

“Brought you a friend,” Willa smirks for the girl’s benefit, tilting her head in Joel’s direction.

“Joel!!! Look!!!” Ellie’s grin is so full she can’t even close her jaw, gaping like a kid who just saw her first Christmas tree.

Another tiny bleat escapes the lamb as its mother begins to lick it clean and Joel’s eyes nearly disappear behind cheeks and crinkles. “Hey there, babygirl. You have a good time?”

“Fuck YES.”

Willa extends a hand to help Ellie up and Joel does the same for you, taking care to keep your dripping forearm at a good distance.

“She did real good out here; you’d be proud,” you praise the girl, squelching her grin with a big, wet, slap on the back. “I’d love to have her again.”

“Aw, maaaaaaan!” Ellie reels in disgust as you dig your palm into her shoulder, really getting the juices in there.

“You just earned your keep, kid.”

This snaps her head around. “Really? Do I get a bird name now?”

“Yup. And I think I know what’ll suit you just fine.” In a short second of mountain time, the wind picks up just a little, lifting the brown curls around her face and the sun comes up behind her over the bluff, kissing her pink cheeks as you lean down and look her straight in the eye.

“Welcome to the Roostlings, Starling.”

____

You let them ride ahead of you, allow the father-daughter team to catch each other up on the week’s news, watch adoringly as Ellie chatters on about the lambs and how they tumble and bounce and how cold the water is and how the Roost creaks and sways a bit when it’s windy, which sheep were her favorite and how much she hates spinning wool.

Next time you’ll have to teach her how to knit, you think. She’ll probably take to that a little better.

And when he’s not giving her his glowing attention, Joel’s only report is that he started work in the new section of town, nothing exciting except the house was blessedly quiet for a whole week thank god.

She still has stories to tell Maria and Tommy at family dinner, repeating again some of the highlights you overheard her tell Joel, and new ones she just remembered. Your friends smile and listen, bewitched, time enough to give her an ear and delighted with the novelty of an excited young person at their table.

“Looks like you have yourself a new recruit,” Maria laughs. “What did you settle on for a callsign?”

Ellie tips her head back, answering through a mouthful of potatoes, “Starling!” and slaps a hand over her mouth when a chunk goes flying.

“Ellie, dammit, talk OR chew, not AND.”

Maria ignores Joel’s curse at her dinner table to ask you, “What prompted that?”

You chew and swallow, pointedly showing off the patience that the girl couldn’t muster, a blatant tease. “Seemed a good choice. Kid’s a sucker for the stars.” You match Ellie’s smile before you sweetly add, “And, y’know. Because starlings are loud and annoying as hell.”

That earns you a bird of another kind.

_____

Tommy cuts a good silhouette against the coming twilight as he lines himself up to the peg and explains for his adopted niece how to score a ringer in an after-dinner game of horseshoes. He demonstrates the looseness of the grip, the swing of the iron, and Ellie soaks it up like a sponge, eager to learn.

He’s a good teacher. He taught Maria…who is currently beating his ass. But Maria is good at whatever she does regardless, always has been.

You concluded long ago that it’s not your game. Branded it a Texas thing and took up your spot on the back porch swing with a bottle of cider, kicking off your boots and putting your woolen-socked feet up on the railing to enjoy the setting sun reflecting off the mountain face.

There’s a cheer as Ellie tosses and the shoe lands with a loud clang.

The porch door opens when Joel returns with a bottle for himself. But instead of rejoining the game, he wanders over to sit next to you on the swing, upsetting it enough to pull your feet from their perch.

“Sorry.”

“It’s okay. Pull up a seat, Joel Miller.”

Several lazy minutes pass, a sweet, comfortable silence filled with the occasional sip from a bottle and an exchanged smile as you push at the porch a little, encouraging the swing to do its thing. And he lets his knees go soft, keeps his feet on the ground but aids in a little gentle rocking.

“Thank you,” he says, finally, tipping his head toward his ward as she scores yet again, “for taking her out there. She hasn’t shut up about it since.”

“Yeah? What’d she have to say?”

“Went on about the lambs, complained about how cold the water was. Said she was tired because she liked getting up early in the morning to see the sunrise but liked being in the trees at night and wanted to stay up to listen to the night birds. Said you liked to sing when you work and the fact that she didn’t complain about it–and from what I heard the night we met you–makes me think you’re not too bad at it. Not too fond of your cooking, though.”

That earns a snort from you. “Well I don’t blame her there; I warned y’all. I wouldn’t say she’s the most obedient kid, but she sure is smart, and really capable and brave. That girl eats the world with the spoon she’s so hungry to know all the things all the time. And strong–she swings an axe better than me. Got a mouth on her–”

“Sorry about that–”

“--and is beautifully, brutally honest, and pretty fucking hilarious. She’s really special.”

“Yeah. Yeah she is.” Something like pride melts his shoulders as he watches Ellie joke around with Tommy, and then slowly evolves into gratitude as he turns to you, to someone who can see her like he does. “Funny, that’s what she said about you.”

There’s a pull to share in that pride and gratitude, to lean in and let yourself bask in the glow of the compliment.

But a wall goes up when you reveal, as kindly as you can, “She told me Tess didn’t make it.” As his eyes grow stony and deny you the pleasure of their focus, you chase after his attention by turning your body toward him on the swing, bringing a knee up and placing a hand on his forearm, gently urging him to stay here with you. “Hey. She didn’t tell me what happened and I don’t need to know and you don’t have to talk about it. But I do need to ask you one thing. That man out there might be your brother, but he’s my friend. And Tess might have been your lady, but she was still family to him. She was important to him. And he’s important to me. And I need to ask you if he knows.”

The arm under your finger tenses as his fingers grip the cider bottle and you move to let go–to let him know you’re not forcing him–but a hand claps down over yours. It’s now his turn to urge you to stay, to give him a minute, to let him bust through whatever is starting to well up in him so he can swallow and tell you, “He knows.” Another quiet minute as he stares out at his family on the back lawn, his jaw working to bring the air in and keep the tension out. “He knows. Thank you…thank you for… taking care of him too.”

His fingers flutter a little, scarred knuckles contracting and loosening like he’s fighting the instinctual urge to hang onto something. So you set your bottle on the porch railing and gently lift his away too, slip out of this awkward hold and instead shift his hand between both of yours, giving it warmth, giving it permission to hold onto you like it wants to.

“They’re my family, which means you are now too. As long as you plan to leave off your wandering and let us keep you safe and cared for, that’s thanks enough, Joel Miller.”

“Quit that,” he grumbles, clasping your hand in case you interpret his words as an ask for release, needing a stolen moment of secret comfort in the deepening twilight. “Joel’s enough. You sound like my mother.”

“Okay,” you compromise, trying to tame your eager heart, silently explain to it that there’s nothing here but the time to do things right. “Okay, Joel.” You smile. “Joel Joel Cinnamon Roll.”

“Shit,” he cringes, shakes his head slowly, stifling a laugh. “Now you really sound like my mother. That’s what she used to call me, how did you-- Tommy.”

“Yup.”

“I hate you both.”

“No you don’t.”

Ellie scores another ringer and Joel smiles. “No, I don’t.”

________

NEXT: SUMMER

MASTERLIST

SERIES MASTERLIST

#tlou fanfiction #joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller x f! reader #joel miller x meadowlark #ellie williams #leave off your wandering

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accio-victuuri · 9 months

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Reasons why we think the 26th bday message was from bunny laoshi. 🗒️

I know that a lot of us don’t need “reasons” to even cpn that xz made this letter, but it’s still fun to look at the clues that make the conclusion much stronger. a lot of us just knew once we read it, who the author is. as with all other candies, if you believe it, you do. if you don’t — there is no amount of evidence that will change your mind.

i’m so happy that the bday letter is back, last year was understandable (considering what was going on) so to have it this year made everyone emotional. as usual, it’s a beautiful letter. i am thankful that yibo is loved. that aside from us fans, he has someone close to him, who adores him that much to write something like that for him.

this post is only for the letter, not the bday photo/art. that will be a separate discussion.

A HISTORY,

As with most candies, context is key. We don’t usually react this much without it having some story behind it. There is almost always a pattern. The “birthday” message first popped up for Bobo’s 23rd bday. Then 24 and 26. You could say anyone can make a birthday message — but this is different. It’s way too personal and the way it’s written, to us who pay attention, is very xiao zhan. There were already CPNs for the past 2 years, so we were actually just waiting for the 26th bday letter — and boy did it not disappoint!

• They all start with saying hello to the *age* Yibo. It’s like this person wants to be the first one to greet WYB in his new year of life.

• The way it’s constructed is very similar. It starts with a recap for the year, what WYB has gained from the past and wishes for the future. I have to say that the 2020 letter was the start and then it evolved into what it is today because of the time they spent together. XZ now has more and more things to say.

• The message of growing up slowly is also there. I think XZ really wants this for him, that even if WYB had to “grow up” faster than other people his age, even if he has so many responsibilities — that he still gets to enjoy his youth. 🫶🏼

Even if you let someone else read this letter, and you tell them, “it’s from their s/o”, they will believe you. To those who look at it and think it’s an employee, i don’t even know what to say. You don’t even have to believe that it’s XZ, but it is most definitely WYB’s significant other. Look at UNIQ_OFFICIAL weibo account birthday caption, that’s what employees do.

Now onto the “reasons”. I have listed a couple and I know there might be more out there but here are the ones that made us 😭😭😭😭:

1. My absolute favorite part of the letter:

In the past year, you've gradually learned to relax while working hard and understood how to face the world with a gentler attitude. You've been willing to watch the stars while hurrying forward. You've been willing to enjoy a pouring rain happening one afternoon. You've been willing to quietly see the horizons at the other side of the sea. You've been willing to stop for a beautiful sunset.

A person who knows you will only be the one to write this. The level of understanding XZ has for WYB is just. I can’t. He really loves him. The things he decided to use : stars, pouring rain, sea and sunset is so THEM. He might as well add the moon to have the whole cpf symbol set completed. 😂😂😂

And for comparison, XZ wrote these words in his Oasis for the DC wrap-up:

There are two pictures that I really like, one is the beach outside of the Xiangshan hotel balcony, another is the scenery from the highway in the middle of the Hengdian Xianju forest where we frequently ran. These two different places and different views are both places that comforted me when I was lost and helpless. When I was down, I would sit on the balcony, and the sea breeze, the beach and the moonlight would give me the answer; when I was tired, I could rest on the path in between the forest scenes, and upon opening my eyes I would see the raindrops and the fog that would also give me the answer: in each and every moment, I chose to not complain or be negative, I put my all towards each choice and decision I make;

It’s how freakin descriptive he is. He has a way with words that make you “feel” what he is saying or even see it.

2. This part too, about stopping. Slowing down. It’s the same thing XZ said before. Plus in a couple of XZ’s videos, you will see shots of him admiring the sunset.

Time never pauses, but you seem to know the secret of making the world stop occasionally. You use your calmness and poise to welcome and get in touch with the world. Yibo, sunsets are beautiful, just like every dusk that you missed when you focused on forging forward.

AND THE “Yibo,” OMG. I can hear XZ’s voice in my head saying it. It’s too intimate. I know it’s his name but the way it’s written here — Are we even supposed to read this? It feels too personal 😭😭😭

But my answer is always, WYB wants to show off. He wants us to feel single. I’m in a long term relationship and even I felt single 😂😂😂😂

3. “The small number has changed again” referring to his age. There might be no hidden meaning, but some cpfs interpret this as the person who wrote it is older than him. Because he considers yibo’s age as “smaller” than his. Hello to their 6-year age gap. 👋🏼

4. There is 🎂 emoji in this letter compared to previous years. We think it’s because WYB is at home and they are celebrating together, no need to send a virtual cake. There is also some talk of XZ not being photographed today (8.4) on set. I won’t go to that part of Weibo but the fact that some people are nervous that he is suddenly MIA so close to Yibo’s bday is 👀

5. WYB went online for a bit, we thought he was gonna pull the same stunt he did last year and remove the automatic weibo bday post. He didn’t. What did he look at? The love letter? 🤔

6. Someone asked where was the quote “"stay cool, grow up slowly" on Baidu and the most popular answer is it’s from a book 君生我已老. We know XZ is fond of reading. I found a synopsis, and well, interpret it as you will…..

Excuse the google translate but you get the gist. It’s synopsis is also kind of similar to his drama SUNSHINE WITH ME. The part of age gap. Meeting and falling in love then having to separate, only to meet again. So if I’m to speculate that XZ got it here and liked it, maybe that’s why he chose to film SWM even if he has lots of scripts sent his way.

7. Similar with GG, who does not look at challenges in a negative way. How he regards it as a part of life and something he has to overcome.

Just regard all the adversities as the numerous mountains you have to climb and the endless waves you have to ride.

8. I don’t have to explain it that much. They both have a thing for “living with no regrets.” It’s all over their interviews.

As a young man full of mettle, you have no regrets.

I will stop right here. Again, to a lot of us, Xiao Zhan might as well sign his name at the end of the post and we would be like — Okay, we knew that. LOL.

HAPPY HAPPY BIRTHDAY KING YIBO! ♥️👑

#yizhan #bjyx #there is no science here i’m just clowning like i always do #DONT TOUCH ME IM STILL NOT OVER THAT LETTER 😭😭😭😭

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transmutationisms · 1 month

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been thinking it for a while but it is both an interesting and frightening thing to see more and more people in their 20s who are usually self-professed hard-leftist progressives get more and more into emotionally-driven, kneejerk 'takes' about how everything new to them is bad and evil and 'this generation' (usually people younger than them who they seem to base all their opinions on from some teens dumb tiktoks they see) is stupid and doomed and the world/'our culture' is constantly degenerating, etc. many of the people who think of themselves as radical leftists are coming out with more and more barely-formed, incoherent and emotionally-driven reactionary ideas, and respond to any criticism of these ideas with defensive appeals to disgust or a general sense of 'everyone just knows this is bad!', bypassing needing to think over their own ideas or articulate the reasons they hold them entirely in favor of reactive outrage.

it feels to me like were watching in real-time how many of us will progressively turn into reactionary liberals or right-wingers - something many of these people have observed in older people, in their parents, but believe will simply not happen to them on account of having good intentions and progressive views, which they think means they dont need to watch themselves for impulsive, reactionary thinking, and even that their kneejerk reaction to anything is automatically the correct one because they themselves are already inherently good. of course it starts with generally inconsequential takes, its not like saying 'the tiles are ugly' automatically makes you a right-winger, but i reckon the festering of such modes of thinking shows the cracks in the foundation of many peoples professed political and social beliefs.

point being, i think there certainly are discussions to be had about the ways architecture - both as a tool that serves a material need and a form of art - changes, and what we may be losing to capitalist priorities on that front, but if the only argument people are making are "its ugly and degenerates our once beautiful culture" and their defense to anyone addressing how that sounds ends at "well its still ugly!", im thinking that kind of reactionary opinion-forming is going to seep into other, more important matters sooner than they may think. sorry for the long ask!

yeah i mean i definitely don't think this is a new problem or a generational one, it's just liberal idealism, but yes this is exactly why this type of aesthetic discourse irritates me so much lol. like i've said this before in regards to clothing but aesthetic signifiers gain their meaning in a social context and conditionally. if your analysis is "it's ugly and therefore bad" you're not only attenuating an actual read of what's being signified and why, you're also just veering directly into the most boring ass "everything is worse now and change threatens me" conservatism. the idea that ugliness and beauty are not transhistorical or transcendental truths should ideally be like, a starting point to both questioning other socially mediated constructs and to then moving toward a theory of asethetics as products of social discourses and economic conditions but instead people just cannot ever fucking resist yelling about how much beige or concrete or whatever the fuck is "soulless" or "lacks artistry" agabshxhsg it's so fucking cornball. get over yourself

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sourbinnie · 10 months

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☆ open wounds ☆

♡ genre ¿? ♡ -> hurt/comfort ♡ pair ¿? ♡ -> jongho x gn!reader ♡ plot ¿? ♡ -> hateful comments are taking a toll on him but you're there through thick and thin. ♡ warnings ¿? ♡ -> none ♡ request ¿? ♡ -> yes!

you noticed how jongho was changing before your eyes, slowly becoming a sadder version of himself. it hurt to think that your baby was going through something and because of his busy schedule he couldn't really contact you a whole lot. you saw him during the day when he would leave and then during the night when he buried himself in your embrace and fell asleep.

you wished you could have a moment where you two would sit down and just talk like you used to when he was feeling troubled. it was one of those occasions where you had a free day from work and you were browsing your phone to see how the boys did on their performance today. scrolling through the comments was never something that was interesting to you, other people's opinions could be very hurtful towards the boys disguised as "constructive criticism" or just straight up be hateful.

this time though you read them, a lot of love from atinys and from people who got into ateez through their latest comeback. but then you got to the nasty ones, a large majority being directed towards jongho and everything started clicking on it's right place. the times he would spend in his vocal lessons, plus the ones where he would practice choreos till late at night and burying himself even more in work than he could handle. the way he avoided you sometimes because he needed to perfect his skills. he was getting hate and he was trying to be what the "fans" wanted him to be.

it hurts knowing he didn't feel enough. he wasn't only one of the best vocalists and most talented people you knew but he had a big heart. one that unfortunately tends to try to please everyone and leaves him unsatisfied every single time. it was a constant battle between trying to improve what is already the best and losing your mind a little bit every time. you knew you needed to talk to him when he got home, no matter how late it was going to be.

and late it got indeed as you tried to keep yourself occupied doing chores, checking your email to see if you had work or listening to music (mostly your boyfriend's heavenly vocals) but then he appeared at your door. he dropped his things at the door and you got up from the couch as you looked at him. a mix of being in shock because you were still awake and being exhausted from practice invaded his face.

"why are you still up, baby? don't you have work tomorrow?" he asked and you nodded but suddenly got close to him, giving him a little peck that made him blush. you couldn't recall when was the last time that you two had kissed but this was just right, you had missed him to the moon and back.

"yeah but i needed to talk to you before we went to sleep baby." you simply said and looked him in the eye. you could sense him being worried but he just nodded as you two sat down, your hands meeting his.

"did something happen?" he asked, not being able to look at you anymore. for some reason that hurt because you knew he was going through a lot and you didn't want to add up to that list. you sighed and shook your head and chose the words correctly to tell him what was going on.

"baby you know you can be honest with me right? we haven't talked in a while but i'm always here for you." you said and then he knew you found out what was going on. he couldn't help but feel the sensitive side of him take over and the tears form in his eyes.

"i'm sorry for not coming to you with this, i thought i could deal with it on my own." he said through tears as you wrapped your arms around him and held him close. he wasn't one that expressed emotions like this a lot but you could tell that this got out of control a long time ago. "it's just a lot right now to handle between promotions and i didn't expect to be invaded with so many comments. it's hard to not believe them when there's so many and i really wanna be the best for atiny, for my bandmates, my family and for you."

"the thing is jongho, atiny wouldn't want you to go through this. if they were true fans they would want you to take care of yourself and for you to be you, which is not only an incredible singer but an amazing person." you said as he nodded and the tears kept spilling under his eyes but you wiped them off with your thumb. "i am not ashamed of you, i am so proud every time i see you and what you do. i'm sure the boys are too and your family just adores you darling."

"i've never been the best performer and sometimes i miss a note, everything just seems to fall down when i do." he says and you listen to him closely. he had a hard time taking compliments or accepting that he was talented but luckily you were there to cheer him up, put him back on his feet. "i wish i could be perfect at the things i do even if it seems impossible."

"perfection is not something you should strike for because you're never gonna be satisfied at the end of the day. i think you have an amazing voice, missing a note doesn't change that your voice is heavenly." you said with a little smile as you look at him and see the blush on his face through the sobs. "jongho you're much more than your voice, your dancing or your stage presence."

"i wish i could believe that baby. it's just so much right now and i don't know what to do but i'm glad i have you." he said and gave you a weak smile as you pulled him closer. maybe it won't be okay right now but you knew he would eventually grow to love himself, to accept that this is what he was and it was more than enough.

"i will always be here whenever you need me, please don't stay silent and ask for my help when you need it." you whispered to his ears and he nodded as he buried himself in you. no more words being spoken but you could still hear his breath and heartbeat.

eventually as he fell asleep on you, too tired to keep on crying, you sighed. you were so in love with this man and nothing would change that, not a single trace of a hateful comment could make you believe what they saw because at the end of the day you got to see the real him every day and it was more than they could ever imagine.

#sourbinnie #ateez imagines #ateez scenarios #ateez drabbles #ateez #ateez imagine #ateez angst #ateez x reader #ateez jongho #jongho x reader #ateez x you #ateez x y/n #ateez x gn reader #ateez x gender neutral reader

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dr3amofagame · 6 months

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I've been in a particular c!Dream mood today, so I thought I might as well take a bit of a crack at the timeline with the hindsight of the Dream SMP being over specifically with respect to c!Dream in terms of his actions from the revive book deal to staged finale.

Here's a post by Airrec and Bluebell that goes into a lot, definitely worth reading in terms of timeline shenanigans. With all that said, here's a few dates:

some time before november 6th - revive book deal

nov 16th - it's november 16th what can i even say

nov 18th/19th - c!Dream frames c!Tommy for stuff with c!Puffy

nov 23rd - vikk and lazar join the server

nov 28th - george's house burned

nov 29th - probation begins, date set for exile negotiations, dream says that he wouldn't push for exile if he got mellohi

dec 2nd - spirit speech

dec 3rd - dethronement

dec 4th - tommy exiled, prison commissioned

dec 6th - egg discovered, mexican lmanburg conflict, prison construction begins

dec 15th - dream gives techno map to woodland mansion and warns him of butcher army

dec 16th - tommy leaves exile, technoblade execution

dec 17th - dream and punz conversation about staged finale

january 5th - green festival

january 6th - doomsday

january 20th - staged finale

for this time period, there's a few things we know for sure, now:

c!dream didn't intend to put himself in prison at first but did plan on doing so by the time he told punz about staged finale. this is also when doomsday was for sure in the cards

c!dream created the prison largely due to his anxiety because of the supernatural that was specifically triggered by the revive book deal

c!dream was publicly known as having "no allies but punz" by the time of dethronement

c!dream takes on the stereotypical villain role in full during green festival, immediately after securing both discs

vikk and lazar experiments had to happen around/after doomsday, as the last time they're seen around the server is january 4th

with all of this in mind, there are a few things that we can pretty confidently conclude:

c!Dream was obviously thinking about the prison before he specifically commissioned c!Sam for it, but in the early days of the prison's conception (and judging by similar wording that we see him use on the day that the prison construction started) it is reasonable to believe that in universe, c!Dream did not yet plan to put himself in the prison when the prison construction began, and therefore staged finale was not yet his end goal

c!Dream's investigation of the supernatural could not have yet occurred at the beginning of his plans re: exile, as even if you consider the idea of vikk and lazar experiments happening earlier than their last known sighting on the server, they literally didn't join the server until november 23rd or so--and c!Dream's starting to frame c!Tommy for things happens November 18/19th, which leads into the exile conflict when c!Tommy does do something by burning down George's house

c!Dream's plan with exile seems to center heavily around the discs, as we had originally concluded. This is evident in his telling NLM that he wouldnt push for exile if he was given Mellohi, the focus on the discs during Spirit Speech, and his obvious change in demeanor once he was given the disc in Green Festival. The focus on separating Tommy and Tubbo (as Tubbo had Tommy's disc) during exile + after obviously went into this--however, as staged finale was, as we've established, not yet planned at this time, c!Dream evidently wanted the disc for other purposes

while it's impossible to say when c!dream switches gears for staged finale completely, it's obvious that this was the route that he had chosen when he brought the plan up to c!punz (when he already quite evidently had thought through several parts of the plan to put himself in the prison: he talks about something he'll do that'll make everyone hate him (doomsday), the need to stage a falling out (the finale), and considerations about the prison being "put to use") on December 17th. his reasons for deciding to commit fully to staged finale are hinted at by this conversation as well by his mentioning the failed execution of c!Technoblade and how that has reinforced the idea that they will now be after him the day before (December 16th) and c!Dream specifically establishing a rapport with c!Technoblade on December 15th by giving him a heads up on the Butcher Army seems to indicate his starting to act with the intention of possibly going through with staged finale in the future

more speculative side of this under the cut (warning. it's long and rambly and definitely less coherent than i usually try to be, which isn't great considering i'm already quite wordy and incoherent):

obviously c!dream was gunning for the disc for the entirety of the exile conflict, but we know that that wasn't specifically about staged finale yet because he hadn't yet planned to put himself in prison. at some point in time between december 5th and december 17th, his plans changed from the prison being intended for nebulous powerful enemy to being intended for himself--hence him being particularly neurotic about security and probably explaining shit like, raw potatoes etc. dream specifically says that exile didn't work in his tweet because tommy got away and went to technoblade, but after tommy leaves he also doesn't seem to prioritize continuing along that original plan--he explicitly says that he doesn't care where tommy is as long as he's away from the SMP, and even when he catches tommy a few times by the main server after that he really doesn't make a priority of taking him away + reexiling him. the most obvious example of this is his confrontation with technoblade at the nether portal, as the prioritization of saving the favor instead of using it for tommy is a very explicit show of him prioritizing the plan in its current iteration over continuing to harangue tommy

thinking about all of this i feel like. immediately after november 16th, c!dream had like. something like, three main goals? 1) Holy Shit What The Fuck + dealing with the supernatural side of the server, 2) dealing with the tommy problem (tm) and trying to restabilize the political situation on the server at that time, and 3) ensuring his safety and the safety of his allies

obviously some of c!dream's priorities after the revive book have to do with the supernatural, and obviously a world reset is something he specifically starts looking into after doing more revive book research. but seeing as revive book research isn't really possible until later on in season 1b, i think it's safe to say that until he was sure about that, the plan regarding the supernatural at first is to lock shit down and figure things out. c!punz obviously is an asset in the "figuring things out" department, and the prison itself is the biggest and most obvious example of c!dream taking proactive action to not be caught off guard. c!schlatt obviously scared the shit out of him and everyone in part just because no one expected alluvthat to go down, and the revive book reveal on top of all of c!schlatt's being. Like That. obviously sent c!dream into a spiral--the prison is a very obvious sort of knee jerk reaction to "there are threats beyond your comprehension that defy all known laws of reality" because he reacts by being like Okay Then We Will Make Something That Can Contain Any Threat (tm). the egg + realizing the literal world is broken when he and punz start doing revive book research obviously exacerbates all of this

the second thing that c!dream prioritizes literally immediately is dealing with c!tommy and the discs. which was definitely ooc for him at the time--he literally never was a guy that outright hunted down c!tommy before this time, and the disc conflicts were repeatedly initiated by c!tommy, not c!dream. his trying to frame the hell out of tommy was a new thing

but it's important to consider that on november 16th, c!Tommy very explicitly makes a point of saying Hey, My Goal Now Is Going To Be Getting Those Discs. he talks to tubbo specifically as well about how at the end of the day, no matter what happens, it'll be them against dream for the discs (and dream has neither disc at this point?)--c!Dream has every reason to believe that the Disc Conflict (tm) is going to start up soon and that c!Tommy is going to be back in Starting Shit Over The Discs Mode that had defined a lot of their conflicts pre-Manberg. and, well, you can't even say that he's wrong here--c!Tommy even makes a point of saying later that he went after c!George's house because he wanted to get to c!Dream.

when you consider stuff like c!tommy talking about his unfinished business and all-encompassing paranoia, right, it really is. like. c!dream is fucking scared as shit at the Eldritch Forces Beyond His Comprehension, he sees the world as out to Get Him especially after nov 16th makes him all but enemy no. 1, and he knows. KNOWS, for sure, that c!tommy is going to go back to pursuing him in the near future. and he's got a server that is very unstable after the fall of manberg and pogtopia, and the literal supernatural as a problem to contend with, and Tommy Fucking Innit is about to come after him again. and he's got no real leverage

the peace treaty between lmanburg + dream smp doesn't exist anymore because manberg was violently overthrown, the reasonable wilbur that allowed for peaceful coexistence on the server is just Gone, tommy is coming after him, the entire world doesn't make sense anymore

so all of this seems to suggest you know that the whole thing that c!Dream says about the discs in spirit speech all seems to be a big part of what he's doing at this point--c!Tommy is a threat that goes out of his way to fuck with c!Dream, he's continuing the disc conflict (a conflict that largely consisted of c!Dream being stolen from and blackmailed pre-Manberg) and the way exile conflict goes down (between c!Tommy telling all of NLM hey guys you know the most important part of all of this are my discs and the whole. Spirit situation.) really seems to affirm all of that. so with c!Tommy specifically talking about how he wants to continue the Disc Conflict, it does seem to suggest that to a certain degree, c!Dream's goal at this point in time might've been to more or less "win" the disc war and end that conflict already. by making himself someone impossible to blackmail (unlike how he was in the past) he establishes that c!Tommy's gambits to get the discs away from him that he's used in the past won't work anymore, which means that when c!Dream gets the discs it'll basically be game over.

he knew that the discs would be a problem again bc tommy literally announced it to everyone, and with dream this high strung he probably thought that this time he was going to make it happen according to his time frame instead of just waiting for tommy to attack him out of nowhere or some shit. as far as c!dream is concerned, c!tommy is one of the biggest threats against him on the server at that point because c!tommy Will Not Let This Conflict Go. and honestly, c!dream has a lot of reason to think of c!Tommy as a character with a hell of a lot of sway, considering uh. people were listening to this kid more or less over wilbur during the war on nov 16th and in pogtopia and all.

like for c!dream, c!tommy is a threat that isn't going to stop until dream makes him stop, and he's a guy that can pretty effectively make a lot of people on the server agree with him. he has very little bargaining power with nlm at the minute, but the situation (as far as he's concerned) is definitely more controllable with nlm than it was for like, manberg. tubbo is someone that can be reasoned with and someone that couldn't afford a war, and he did seem to be prioritizing peace over starting stupid battles--so for dream, the priority would've been getting the guy who DID make his whole deal into "starting stupid battles" to Stop Fucking Doing That, and just. in general, securing the discs was his best route for doing so. by getting the discs, he has solid leverage over c!tommy that he knows that c!tommy will listen to, and by establishing that blackmail wont work on him the way it has in the past, as soon as he gets the discs he does more or less "win"

in continuation of this, when it comes to c!Dream's goals about NLM in particular at this time, i am. looking at what he says about tubbo being a reasonable leader and going hmmmm. because what's pretty clear, right, is that no matter how you cut it, doomsday has to be connected to staged finale and putting dream in the prison. there is no world, no matter how buddybuddy he is with NLM and/or tommy, that destroying NLM through Doomsday wouldn't make everyone want his head on a stake. if c!Dream didn't decide on staged finale until later, it does seem like a logical progression of that statement to say he didn't decide on Doomsday until later as well. Which, once again, fits his actions at this point in time--c!dream specifically points to nlm's successfully hunting down and executing technoblade and subsequent focus on hunting him down as being the reason why they have to go for staged finale full throttle, and the butcher army escalating is the reason why he starts moving towards an allyship with c!Techno, the local guy who hates countries and would be the most obvious ally in destroying one.

(edit: this indicates that c!dream, who doesn't originally seem to be gunning for Doomsday specifically if we consider that he doesn't decide on staged finale until a little later, didn't really tip over onto the side of "this place has to go fr" until more obvious signs of nlm being completely averse to a "resolution" of sorts, the most obvious of that being the butcher army and plans to Go And Kill People including c!dream. and this further aligns with some of his villain speech on green festival, where he specifically talks about tubbo being a bad leader because he let quackity push him around too much, as we know that quackity was the one behind a lot of butcher army)

id say c!dream's plans immediately after november 16th seemed to be more along the lines of reestablishing a status quo with nlm than anything else--establishing himself again as the guy that shouldn't be fucked with (the walls, threatening to close the borders) and working for the discs. in a way he almost seems to be reverse engineering the original independence deal with lmanburg--technical independence for the discs, you guys agree to not mess with me and my shit and i get leverage over the guy that won't stop picking a fight with me--like exile was definitely about trying to get tommy to Stop Fucking Doing That + trying to get the discs first and foremost, because if tommy sees him as a "friend" and dream has the goddamn discs (and is no longer blackmailable) then the chances of the server "going back to normal" probably felt higher, all while dream is i think more or less trying for some level of peaceful coexistence with nlm--trying to establish himself as someone rational and willing to work with them and not against them as long as everyone was staying in their goddamn lanes

but obviously between the situation with c!tommy quickly showing itself as not really being sustainable + nlm's increasing aggression, considering how he obviously knew abt butcher army and later on green festival, he had to abandon the idea that the server could return to a status quo and instead go for the staged finale, with the breaking point obviously being c!Tommy leaving exile and the butcher army making its first definitive move on december 16th

c!dream framing c!tommy -> exile conflict -> saying that he'll not push for exile if he gets the disc all definitely seems to be For The Discs, and the specific engineering of a divide between tommy and tubbo (through exile, obviously) definitely seems to be for the purpose of getting the disc, either through convincing c!tommy to give it to him directly or through pressuring c!tubbo to give it to him as he does in green festival. his increasing lack of giving a shit about where c!tommy is and what he's doing post-dec 16th suggests that he switches gears in his plan, and the main thing that he emphasizes at that point is still the separation between tommy and tubbo (though obviously to a less neurotic degree than he does during exile) (and obviously even in exile the separation he particularly keeps up is once again between c!clingy and not all of the other like, ten people that visit tommy) . the emphasis on the discs isn't yet about staged finale but obviously does get incorporated into it when he comes up with staged finale because mans literally already made a whole plan centering around getting the discs of course he'd still proceed with it even when it becomes clear that peaceful coexistence, with or without them, has become completely impossible

and like all of this is happening at the same time that c!dream is actively freaking the fuck out about the revive book, and later experimentation really doesn't help with any of that at all when he discovers that whole Corruption thing. by the time we get to staged finale, the best way of ensuring some kind of stability seems to be having punz keep an eye out, getting rid of lmanburg for good, locking himself up to be like 👍 okay i cant cause problems anymore, and giving tommyinnit those god damned discs holy fuck

and obviously with no one really willing to peacefully coexist until they thought of him as Defeated (a point obviously established over the course of season 1b) that meant that the best way to ensure that he, his allies, and the revive book were all secured would be to engineer his own defeat and put himself in the safest possible position

buuuuuut yeah i think as far as my thoughts on c!dream and plans in season 1b, there's the plan to get the disc + reestablish a status quo of sorts that he abandons for good by the time of december 17th (though as early as december 15th we can see him starting to switch away from it + he probably came up with the plan for staged finale and doomsday and putting himself in the prison in more specifics earlier than that) and after that we see him full throttle go for staged finale until jan 20

and it's important right that during all of this c!dream is acting notably different from how he acts at literally any other point in the server. we know he has a literal like, psychotic break + paranoid spiral because of the revelations of the revive book and all of that ends up with him making the giant fucking what the fuck that is the prison. he's notably paranoid during a LOT of this two-month period. this is not a man in his right mind and a lot of the plans i think around this time definitely reflect that--staged finale is Batshit, and his plan to get the discs is Batshit as well. he's still strategizing and obviously he still pulls off staged finale successfully, but like. in terms of the actual like decisions he's making. it's like. holy hell dude why are you doing things like THAT.

and the idea of backup plans upon backup plans is also something that we see a lot from c!dream--he is adaptable and will change what he does based on the circumstances around him. we saw it in the revolution and multiple back up plans in terms of this time period makes sense as well--the original plan with exile was to get c!Tommy to see him as his "friend" to achieve his goal (with his goal, as established, seeming to be to get the discs), but when that obviously wasn't really working he instead focuses on pressuring c!Tubbo through establishing himself as less volatile than c!Tommy to end up obtaining Mellohi during the Green Festival. his shifting away from originally trying to establish an agreement with NLM more similar to how the server had been pre-Manberg when doing so was evidently impossible bc of the butcher army focusing wholeheartedly on hunting him down leads to the plan that consists of Doomsday/Staged Finale/Putting himself in the prison, which secures himself + his ally + the revive book and gets rid of the perceived major threat that was evidently not going to agree to coexist peacefully, NLM.

anyway hopefully someone could make some sense out of . all of that. a lot of speculation in terms of his original plan pre-staged finale but i think that it does seem to fit w/ some earlier patterns that have been established--mostly i'm just solid on the points of 1) he was gunning for the disc from the beginning for his goals, whatever his goal at the time was and 2) i don't think doomsday + a total annihilation of lmanburg was really something he was specifically gunning towards until he established staged finale as the plan, because he obviously knew that destroying lmanburg would destroy any possibility of peace between him and the rest of the server and would therefore have to ensure his safety through something like putting himself in the prison--after all, c!dream at the beginning of this whole arc already knows that he's alone and wasn't necessarily trusting in a whole collection of allies to watch his back (like, as if anyone watched his back like, from the revolution onwards. lmao. guy literally has more allies by this point in punz and ranboo than he did before i stg)

#c!dreamisms #long post #c!dream #dreblr #the brainrot. it's too powerful

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clanwarrior-tumbly · 7 months

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Omg I got an Idea, Can I have some headcanons for a human! reader criticizing patriarchy! ken's ways and how their kind of fucked up? (Also I need them explaining that they're basically saying house house in the Mojo Dojo Casa House name lol,)

- Kneecaps anon

Ghgjjd okay so I know Sasha and Gloria already informed him of that in the movie, but this prompt was funny to me

.....

At first you were reluctant to follow this random guy named Ken to "Barbieland" after he asked you a billion questions about horses and patriarchy.

He insisted on showing you how the Kens were treated, convinced that once you understood everything you'll sympathize with them more.

In the end, you went with him out of genuine curiosity, finding out that this supposedly imaginary pink utopia was, in fact, not-so-imaginary as you transverse the different landscapes together.

Although at one point you had to man the 2D speedboat as he got seasick.

When you both arrive, Ken goes on to tell everybody what he learned while you get lost exploring Barbieland.

You didn't think he'd take your jokes about the patriarchal structure of human society seriously..

But he clings to them as facts and radically transforms the doll world, and within hours it becomes Kendom Land.

You don't know how it all happened so fast, though you got irritated quickly over what he's done to the place you were just starting to admire.

Especially when he takes on a macho persona and dons that silly fur coat, before stealing Barbie's dreamhouse and reintroducing it to you as his "Mojo Dojo Casa House".

Something about that definitely irked you.

"You know "casa" is just Spanish for house, right?"

"Yeah, duh." He rolls his eyes.

"But you're already saying "house" anyways."

"...and your point?"

"My point is that you're pretty much saying "mojo dojo house house"."

"No I'm not. Because it's Mojo Dojo Casa House." He pouts, before asking a nearby Barbie to "brewski beer" him (to which you tell her "do NOT" and shoo her away).

You quickly remember you're arguing with a children's toy....so he was definitely going to be stubborn like a child and you'll just have to put up with it for now.

Ken couldn't brainwash a human, although he's still gonna argue with you and have petty temper tantrums whenever you keep criticizing the way he's running things.

"I'm just saying, this is NOT how men act in Century City at all.." You try explaining as he pouts, sorting through his western and denim outfits. "You just took whatever ideals you liked about them, dialed them up to 11, and forced them onto everyone here."

"Forced?? Take a look around, [y/n]--the Kens are happy! We embraced those ideals because we never got to have ANY of these cool things under the Barbies! If not for the multitude of...limitations in the Real World, I could've been the next president of California-"

"Don't you mean United States?"

"...no, I mean your country of California."

"......you seriously think California is a country? It's a state."

He does a double-take. "It is...? I thought Los Angeles was the state.."

'Oh for crying out-'

You realize the dolls had seriously misconstrued ideas about the Real World if they got the basic geography of it wrong.

But you're not gonna sit here and school him on everything. That wasn't your job and you do have your own life to get back to, anyways.

So you just...leave Kendom in the reverse order you arrived.

You'll let him live out his fantasy, but didn't want any part of it.

Especially upon seeing a group of construction worker Kens building a brick wall up and not sideways.

#clanask #kneecaps anon #barbie x reader #barbie movie x reader #barbie ken x reader #ken x reader #ken carson x reader #ryan gosling ken #ryan gosling ken x reader #headcanons #platonic

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genshingorlsrevengeance · 7 months

Text

(GFL Short Fic) "Holding out for a T-Doll"

Alternative title: "Local Woman Too Angry To Die"

On an infiltration mission to the inner cities, AK-15's S/O has been kidnapped due to their relation with Griffin and Kruger.

Unfortunately for the kidnappers, Task Force DEFY has a tracker on every member of the squad, and they do not take kindly to anyone attacking their own. Post-edit note: SURPRISE SONG FIC!...People still do these, right? This feels super corny but also kinda funny. It's like writing a 90's action flick. Word Count: 2.3K

AK-12's eyes scanned the building, her glowing pink irises subtly changing colors every few seconds.

AK-15, RPK-16, and AN-94 said nothing as they watched from on top of a skyscraper, looking downward at the warehouse.

(AK-12) "Confirmed. I'm reading S/O's tracker in there."

(AK-15) "Threat assessment?"

(AK-12) "Humans. Doesn't look to be affiliated with Sangvis, or any of the protesters in the city. Might just be human traffickers."

(AN-94) "Our orders were not to cause a scene-"

(RPK-16) "Kind of hard to do when AK-15's beloved is taken, is it not?"

AK-15 just crossed her arms, making no visual recognition of the teasing.

(AK-15) "This is not a matter of relations. S/O is simply a comrade in arms, and a vital source of information on the inner workings of Griffin. If they were to be sold to Sangvis, it could have dire consequences."

(AK-12) "I'm sure that's the entire reason."

AK-15 glared daggers at 12, who simply just shrugged while keeping her smug smile.

(AK-12) "Regardless, I agree. You'll be happy to know I'm ordering that we're going loud, given our primary mission was already accomplished before this whole ordeal happened."

(AN-94) "Our orders?"

(AK-12) "94, get us a ride out of the city and call for the Commander. We're going home after this. Had enough of this place, anyway."

AN-94 nodded and moved downstairs. AK-12 turned to RPK-16.

(AK-12) "I want you to provide cover fire and a distraction to catch their attention. We'll signal when we're all ready, and commence the rescue on your signal. AK-15, you'll be our vanguard to save S/O. I'll move in the shadows to secure your escape in case they get any funny ideas. I also didn't scan anything that could be a significant threat other than a few low grade explosives."

(AK-15) "Understood."

AK-15's ponytail flowed in the wind, stomping towards the stairs and her scowl growing angrier by the second, quickly followed by the other two members of DEFY.

...

S/O remained tied up in the chair with a piece of cloth crudely fastened over their mouth. The two men in the room spat on the ground looking at them and left.

(Guard 1) "Why the hell aren't we just killing them, they're part of a fuckin PMC with those tin cans!"

(Guard 2) "Apparently boss said we can get some money if we talk to the right people. Let's just-"

The intercom suddenly came alive in the warehouse, making the two men grab their weapons.

(Guard 2) "The hell?!"

The intercom began blasting music at such a high volume that it made them recoil. It was quickly accompanied by several men shouting and rushing throughout the warehouse with their weapons at the ready.

The two went towards the main lobby that had crates and all sorts of construction equipment scattered, everyone taking positions. One of the guards stood near the door where the intercom system, trying to turn the music off.

(Guard) "Turn that fucking thing off already!"

(Guard) "I-I can't! Things not-"

A fist suddenly came through the wall and intercom, grabbing the guard's face and violently dragged him away as he screamed, startling everyone and making them aim their weapons at the rubble.

Before anyone could get a sense of what was happening, the same body burst through the rubble, a massive, angry looking woman dressed in black with a long white ponytail emerged, her light purple eyes glowing.

A panicked guard pulled the trigger once, a single gunshot reflecting off her shoulder, and all she did was give them a glare, scaring the absolute hell out of everyone further.

AK-15 dove behind a crate as gunfire rained down all around her. Trying to analyze the area, she then recognized what song was playing over the intercom.

"Where have all the good men gone And where are all the gods?

(AK-15) "...Seriously?"

"Where's the streetwise Hercules To fight the rising odds?"

An exacerbated sigh left AK-15's mouth before she refocused her attention, reloading the pistol the guard she killed had. Some of the guards had moved to flank her while her position was suppressed, which she immediately turned to shoot.

"Isn't there a white knight upon a fiery steed "

She pulled the trigger three times, each one entering the head of S/O's kidnappers, and AK-15 snuck around the corner they had entered.

"Late at night, I toss and I turn And I dream of what I need"

She stopped right at the end of the crates as the gunfire followed her position. Without warning, a hail of bullets tore through the upper windows, hitting every one of the guards trying to pin her down. AK-15 grunted in thanks, which RPK spoke up.

(RPK-16's Voice) "Coming from the door on your left."

"I need a hero I'm holding out for a hero 'til the end of the night"

AK-15 saw the door swing wide open, and before the men inside could open fire, she kicked the forklift towards them. The machine skidded across the floor and slammed right into the doorframe.

"He's gotta be strong, and he's gotta be fast And he's gotta be fresh from the fight"

Wasting no time, she sprinted up the stairs as more guards came from below, all attempting to shoot her.

She didn't bother to fire back as she dodged the oncoming bullets, knowing that with every second passing, S/O might be in more danger.

"I need a hero I'm holding out for a hero 'til the morning light"

The door she was about to enter had another group exit, one that noticed her approach far too late. She grabbed one of them by the collar and effortlessly tossed them over the railing before punching the next one in her way.

(AK-15) "Get out of my way."

"He's gotta be sure, and it's gotta be soon And he's gotta be larger than life Larger than life"

One of the guards managed to open fire, she was far too close to escape, and the bullet tore into her chest. Even though she felt some amount of pain, she clenched her teeth in ever increasing anger, grabbed the arm holding the gun and snapped it like a toothpick.

With a vicious headbutt, she completely knocked them out and more than likely broke their nose and some of their teeth.

"Somewhere after midnight In my wildest fantasy"

Hearing the fight happening outside, S/O tried to get out of their restraints until a guard ran into the room. The guard immediately had their weapon pulled out and wrapped their arm around S/O's neck, backing away in fear from the door.

"Somewhere, just beyond my reach There's someone reaching back for me"

AK-15 disposed of another group that tried to engage her in close quarters and failed.

Finishing off the last one in the hallway with a bullet to their chest, she felt her head budge towards the wall, accompanied by a metallic clang.

"Racing on the thunder And rising with the heat"

Turning towards the source, one of the guards had gotten up and stared in horror at the metal pipe that was now completely bent in their hands.

"It's gonna take a Superman to sweep me off my feet"

She grabbed the pipe from them and slammed it against their head, the pipe shattering completely as she found S/O's signature, right behind the door with another guard, using them as a shield.

"I need a hero I'm holding out for a hero 'til the end of the night"

S/O and the guard saw the outline of a massive figure standing outside the door, making the guard panic even more.

(Guard) "C-COME IN, AND I'LL PULL THE TRIGGER!"

"He's gotta be strong, and he's gotta be fast And he's gotta be fresh from the fight"

The door flew off the hinges and almost slam into the both of them, the guard diving out the way and aiming for S/O. AK-15 rushed in and immediately got in front of S/O, with her back tanking an onslaught of bullets that opened fire.

S/O looked horrified, more for AK-15 than themselves. She clenched her teeth making sure not to move until the only noise was clicking.

"I need a hero I'm holding out for a hero 'til the morning light"

AK-15 spun around and was prepared to mutilate S/O's attacker before AK-12 leapt down from the vent, on top of the guard and knocking him out.

Her pink eyes glowed in the darkness, addressing them coldly, devoid of her usual emotions.

"He's gotta be sure, and it's gotta be soon And he's gotta be larger than life"

(AK-12) "Everyone blocking your escape is dead. Proceed."

AK-15 nodded and ripped off the restraints on S/O, being a bit more gentle when it came to their mouth.

(S/O) "T-Thank you!"

(AK-15) "Do not thank us yet. We have yet to escape."

(S/O) "Right...By the way, what's with this music?"

(AK-15) "I do not know, I just wish we could've used a less annoying distraction."

(S/O) "If it's annoying you, then it must be annoying the enemy, right?"

AK-15 made a noncommittal grunt before they moved to escape.

"Up where the mountains meet the heavens above Out where the lightning splits the sea I could swear there is someone, somewhere watching me"

AK-15, S/O, and AK-12 ran out the room and down the hallway, kicking open the door they found an empty parking lot. They stood on catwalk that was dozens of feet above the ground.

And without waiting, AK-15 carried S/O bridal style and leapt off with AK-12, making them scream in surprise.

"Through the wind and the chill and the rain And the storm and the flood"

As soon as they landed, several of the guards burst out from the door across from them and tossed grenades at the three.

I can feel his approach like a fire in my blood

AK-15 dropped S/O before grabbing a nearby dumpster, dragging it across the ground and slammed it in front of them, right as the explosions went off.

AK-12 covered S/O as debris ran down, tearing apart their already dirty and battered suits.

(Like a fire in my blood, like a fire in my blood Like a fire in my blood, like a fire in my blood, blood)

Before the guards could do anything else, they dove for the concrete when a wild barrage of bullets almost took their heads off, firing wildly across the wall.

I need a hero I'm holding out for a hero 'til the end of the night

RPK-16 continued to lay down suppressive fire as AN-94 sped into the parking lot, slamming on the brakes and kicking open the door towards the side her comrades were on.

"He's gotta be strong, and he's gotta be fast And he's gotta be fresh from the fight"

Not needing to say anything else, AK-15 picked up S/O like a suit case and threw them into the back seat, quickly joining as AK-12 closed the door behind them.

As the bullets flew through the windows, AK-15 held S/O tightly to shield them from any potential stray shot.

"I need a hero I'm holding out for a hero 'til the morning light"

AN-94 put the pedal to the metal, quickly escaping the warehouse and dodging oncoming traffic and onto the main road so they could not get tailed.

Once they were out of harm's way, S/O took a deep breath as AK-15 released her grip on them.

"He's gotta be sure, and it's gotta be-"

(AK-15) "Turn that off already."

AK-12's pink irses flashed gray before she closed her eyes, the music in the car being shut off. As soon as her eyes closed, her signature smile came back.

RPK-16 rolled up her windows as she turned the safety on her machine gun.

(RPK-16) "I thought the song was quite fitting, honestly."

(S/O) "That was intentional?"

(AK-12) "It was. Clearly it was worth it, seeing how you're in the car with us now."

S/O looked worried at how damaged everyone was. AK-15's suit was almost threads, with the amount of bullets that either flew off her, or entered.

AK-12 and RPK-16 did not fare any better, and even AN-94 had parts of her blue suit scorched with black marks.

(S/O) "I'm...I'm so sorry, everyone. One second I was inside my room, and the next-"

(AK-15) "The fault is mine. You were supposed to be under my watch and-"

(RPK-16) "I don't think it particularly matters whose fault it is. After all, we're still breathing, aren't we?"

(AN-94) "Affirmative. Our damage is superficial. Yours is not."

(S/O) "...I guess I can at the very least say, thank you."

(AK-12) "Hm.~ Apology accepted. Besides, if we let even one of those men lay a finger on you, 15 would've torn us to shreds."

(AK-15) "Please, shut up already."

S/O laid a hand on her back and felt a piece of metal slightly out of place, making them recoil. Sighing, AK-15 grabbed their hand.

(AK-15) "I will be fine. I am entering sleep mode for the duration of the drive."

S/O nodded and moved to give her space before realizing AK-15's grip was not budging. She wanted their hand there. Slightly blushing at that, they rested onto her as well, both of them sleeping.

(AN-94) "A Griffin Black Hawk will be picking us up as soon as we reach the destination."

(AK-12) "Which is how long?"

(AN-94) "Four hours."

(AK-12) "Make it three. I already feel like I'm intruding on their love nest just sensing them."

(AN-94) "Understood."

(RPK-16) "...That song sure is interesting. Music in general is quite fascinating, given how humans normally are-"

AK-15's eyes opened and glanced over to RPK-16.

(AK-15) "Do not start singing it."

RPK just smiled and looked out the window as AK-12 scooched away from S/O and AK-15.

The duration of their escape was a quiet but surprisingly comfortable one. DEFY's mission was successful, and they were leaving with every member accounted for.

#girls' frontline x reader #girls' frontline headcanons #girls' frontline imagines #ak 15 x reader #ak 15 gfl #ak 12 gfl #an 94 gfl #rpk 16 gfl

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sailing-through-hawkins · 10 months

Text

Part 1 ✧ Part 2 ✧ Part 3 ✧ Part 4 (finale) of Harrington Charms Hellfire ✧ AO3

Sometimes Steve thinks the real Upside-Down is his life before any of it really happened, before the demogorgon, before Will going missing, before he ever even met Robin, because that life feels like such a distant memory it might as well be a completely different person's.

In the moments between all the chaos and yelling and laughing, when everyone's quiet and like, content? It hits him harder than any punch (obviously not any punch given all his experience with getting them, but he's allowed to exaggerate when he has Dustin, Robin, Erica and Eddie being dramatic as possible around him every single day) that this wasn't always his life.

He didn't always know the best way to bribe Dustin was by offering to take him to the diner with the most expensive fucking fries but totally worth the price.

He didn't always answer the phone to find Erica calling him up for another round of ice cream at the Sinclairs' while she goes on and on about how Chelsea has betrayed her by cozying up to Valerie after they already made a pact about it.

He didn't always have Robin gently reminding him about people's names and their plans for the week and what he had that morning because fuck, did he have breakfast? Robin, what - ("We had pancakes and that gross syrup you buy even though I keep telling you it's not sweet enough, which means I have to use like half the bottle in one go -")

It's pretty weird to think about. That all of that is some kind of after instead of an always. It's nice.

He could do without the repeated banging on his front door though. Like why do none of his people know how to knock?

"Ready to have your mind blown, Stevie?" Eddie Munson stands outside his house with a wide grin and guitar hanging over his back like a weapon. It kind of is, in some ways.

"Get in here, jackass," Steve rolls his eyes as Eddie cackles his way through the door and straight to the couch in the sunroom ("What does that even mean, sunroom? Who has a sunroom?! If it's facing the pool, shouldn't it be the poolroom? Give me answers, whoever constructed this hellish house!") without so much as a hug. He shuts the door and trails after the madman. "What, no 'hi Steve, nice to see you, thanks for letting me come over'?"

Eddie whips around with a manic grin and wild eyes. "Haven't you heard? Chivalry is dead, sweetheart."

He has such pretty eyes, Steve thinks idly as Eddie carefully takes off his guitar and jumps into the couch, the kind he really likes looking at in moments of peace and quiet. Sometimes they go big and wide and Eddie pulls a lock of hair over his mouth, but that doesn't hide the way his whole face flushes pink when Steve really leans in.

It's not something he actually knows about Eddie, but Steve does know that he - well, he likes Eddie.

"You said he was glaring at Frank after he gave you that Star Trek thing."

"I mean yeah, but that could have been for anything, maybe they fought before I came 'round or something."

"Hmm, true, but I am personally inclined to the idea that he was jealous."

"You just want to make fun of him."

"Absolutely I do."

Steve shakes his head and walks over to knock Eddie on his head, laughing when he immediately pouts up at him. "It's lunchtime, Munson, and we agreed to eat first before you pull me into one of your 'artist moments'."

Gasping, Eddie immediately launches into the same lecture he does every time Robin makes fun of how focused he is while writing out a campaign idea ("Can you believe we used to know nothing about this stuff? And now it's like, saved our lives and we play it every other week. Who even are we?"). Steve walks on to the kitchen as Eddie raves behind him and doesn't even bother pushing down the fondness in his chest, the fondness he knows is written all over his face.

Yeah, Steve and Robin are pretty sure he's like, totally in love with Eddie at this point. It probably should be a bigger deal than it is but honestly, a couple years surviving another apocalypse and being distrustful of most authority figures (including but not at all exclusive to the American fucking government) really puts that kinda shit into perspective.

"Robin, how do you ask a guy out?"

"Gee, that's a great question, I hope I never have to find out."

"...you were the wrong person to ask this."

"No shit, Stevie."

So yeah, Steve's in love with Eddie Munson and the whole world's gonna know about it.

Because he has a plan.

Step one: get the guy to come over for lunch - easily accomplished once Steve promises to make his pizza casserole, a Buckley-exclusive recipe until today (with said Buckley's approval of course, because it's the fanciest thing Steve can do without fucking up like three times in a row).

Step two: use said lunch as a way to make easy conversation and settle nerves - already in action, just need to get his oven mitts on first.

"Oh my god," Eddie moans when Steve pulls the casserole out of the oven, the melted cheese and crusted pasta looking delicious, way to go, Harrington. "Oh fuck, that smells so fucking good, oh my god."

Steve laughs, quickly setting the dish down and poking it with a fork so his face has time to cool down. "Buckley approved and Munson sanctioned, huh?"

"Jesus Christ, let me at it -" Eddie reaches for the dish, hands squeezing mid-air before Steve slaps them both, mitts and all. "Ow! What was that for?!"

"Have some fucking patience, man." Steve sets the casserole onto the trivet ("Our latest word of the week!") and carries the whole thing to the dining room. He calls out behind him before Eddie can even walk, "And bring over the plates from the sink, they're clean."

"No shit!" Eddie calls back and Steve just laughs again when he walks into the dining room with the plates held up over his head, knees and arms bending awkwardly like he's some sort of gangly creature with zero limb coordination. He sets down the plates with a bow and in a weird voice croaks, "Your plates, my liege."

Steve looks at the gremlin of a man in front of and his heart beats once, twice, saying 'yes, this one, this one too, please.'

"Okay, Smeagol," he snorts and jumps when Eddie smacks his shoulder. "Dude, what the hell, I'm -"

"Since when do you read Lord of the Rings?!" Eddie smacks his shoulder again when he rolls his eyes. "That reference is way too obscure for you to just know!"

The casserole is firm enough that he can lift a piece to a nearby plate with zero casualties, but he still doesn't take his eyes off it for a second. "Dustin and Lucas talk about it all the time, even Max does the whole 'my precious' thing. It's not that obscure."

"Steve Harrington," Eddie shakes his head and Steve sighs when both plates are set, the rest of the casserole intact. "You are something else, man."

When Steve turns around, he's struck by how fond Eddie's eyes are, staring at him, smiling at him, sweet and soft. It's heady, makes him smile back, makes him forget every step of his plan, makes him lean in. Eddie doesn't flinch, eyes fixed on him, but does inhale sharply when Steve takes his hand, slowly settling his fingers between Eddie's until they're holding hands warmly, gently, lovely.

"Steve?" Eddie murmurs, eyes flitting all over Steve's face like he's tracking every spot, mole and freckle he can find.

And that right there is what gives Steve the courage to say, "Look, I -"

Brrrrrrng!

Which is exactly why the doorbell rings. Because when Steve is brave, the universe just has to keep pushing him to find the limit of his patience too. God damn it.

"Be right back," he sighs, letting go of Eddie's hand to pat him on the shoulder with a weak smile. Eddie doesn't seem to mind, staring down at his hand like it has the answers to the universe. He walks to the door when the doorbell rings yet again. "Don't start without me."

Eddie doesn't reply and Steve sighs again, opening the door with a tilted head at whoever - "Harrington!"

Steve blinks and tilts his head even more. "Frankie? What's up, man?"

"It's time to discuss." Frank stands tall in his doorway, holding up what looks like a giant roll of paper under his arm. Steve doesn't even want to know what the plastic bag in his hand has. Frank glances around, as if there's anybody else out here, and his voice drops to a whisper. "We need a plan on how you're going to woo Eddie."

Eyes widening, Steve quickly shuts the door and shoves Frank away from the entrance ("I may have the pointy elbows but you've got the strong arms, so together our jabs would be like unstoppable!") . He glances back at the house, relieved when Eddie doesn't come shooting out at the very sensitive information. "What the hell, dude?"

"Listen to me," Frank continues, leaning against Steve's car as if he's not being cornered, setting Steve's teeth on a grind. "Procrastinating this is not the solution, and if you really want to court him properly -"

"Do you have to say it like that?!" Steve runs a hand through his hair. He should have known this would happen and he still got cocky. Fuck. "Look, this is stupid, I'm -"

"Strategy is never stupid, Harrington," Frank seethes, poking his chest harshly. Fuck, what's his deal with using last names anyway? "You want to ask Eddie out, so you asked Hellfire for aid. And our aid is about coordination, patience and a step-by-step tactical journey that includes failsafes for every occasion."

"Oh joy," Steve snorts. He crosses his arms and leans on one leg ("You're the one who said it's our bitchiest move! Besides, it always works, doesn't it?"), eyebrows raised high. "Look, I appreciate the help, but considering the fact that I've literally got Eddie in my house right now, I think I'm doing just fine."

"He's what?!" Frank's smug face turns pale and he whips a glance at the house before slapping Steve's arm with a hiss. "And you're mentioning this only now?! I had to take a bus here man!"

"Ow!" Steve glares back, rubbing the spot. It's basically nothing, barely a sting, but he feels the need to make a show of it to prove a point ("Oh my god, you have been hanging out with Eddie too much, he's infected you - fight it, Stevie! Only you and I can infect each other!"). "I would have said it earlier if someone hadn't -"

"Shh!" Frank rudely smacks Steve's arm again, the prick, and gives a...nervous smile to the house?

"What -" Steve turns around to find Eddie's glare through the window before it quickly turns to surprise and disappears. Steve sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose, god fucking damn it. "Okay, well, this conversation is over because now I need to do damage control before any wooing."

Frank nods with a wince. "Perhaps...I could have called first."

"Perhaps," Steve mocks before letting out a laugh and patting Frankie's shoulder. "Don't worry about it, man, I'll just tell him you were trying to start another fight about the tribbles and fuzzies."

"It's a valid -"

"Frankie," Steve says sternly and watches amusedly when Frank deflates.

He still squints and pokes Steve's chest again. "Next time. You owe me the bus fare. Twice."

"Bring food over," Steve calls out as Frank starts to walk away. "I'm not cooking for you if I have to pay!"

"Eat shit, Harrington!"

And Steve laughs and laughs because he finally feels so light after all this time. With a sigh, he makes his way back to the house, startling when Eddie's face in the window makes another appearing-disappearing act.

Huh.

Well, in Eddie's defense, it's pretty suspicious that Frank came over with a roll of paper and bag of markers, right?

"Eds?" Steve walks in, a smile growing when he sees Eddie lying on the stairs in the most unnatural position possible, stretched out with one hand holding up his head and his leg crooked up on the other knee. He lets out a laugh when Eddie blinks at him. "Comfortable?"

"One hundred percent," Eddie croaks, sliding down the stairs, Jesus it's like he's made of liquid, until he's a pouting puddle on the floor. "Why'd Frank come over? I didn't tell him I was here."

"Eh," Steve shrugs, holding out a hand and, when he takes it in his own, pulling Eddie up. "Thought he could finally prove his conspiracy theory about the tribbles again."

Eddie doesn't reply, eyes flickering down to their hands, warm and connected. Steve purposefully doesn't make a remark or snatch his hand away the way the small, dark corner of his brain is insisting he should ("I think it's time we both stop listening to our dark corners, huh? I'll be your light if you'll be mine."), casually making his way back to the dining room. Something glows in his chest when Eddie's hand squeezes just enough for him to feel, before Steve squeezes back and lets it go so he can pull out a chair.

"Ready to have your tastebuds blown away?"

With a gulp and a very quick shake, Eddie grins at him before dropping into the chair. He squirms around until he settles, legs stretched out and hands behind his head, looking up at Steve with that same, wide grin. "I'm always ready for a Harrington Feast."

"Ew," Steve wrinkles his nose as he gently pushes the chair in, making his way over to the one directly opposite Eddie. "Yeah no, we're not doing that."

"But Harrington Habits -"

"I'm going to punch Gareth next time he says that," Steve grumbles. "I don't care how many movies he wants to try out."

It's honestly a little flattering how quickly Gareth warmed up to Steve after the whole 'Grease' thing, hell, the kid even asked (very angrily and with zero eye contact) if Steve knew how to style his hair to look like Danny Zuko's a couple weeks back. Steve had to take a minute before agreeing but then had to coax him out of the look when it very clearly wasn't working, and offered to help him look for a jacket like Danny's instead.

Nobody knows why or when exactly Hellfire started to mellow out against Steve ("I can't believe all it took was some music, movies and cookies, I'm gonna lose my mind! We should try getting Mrs Byers to invite us for dinner with that charm of yours."). Mike still suspects it started after he offered to host their next game night (they didn't take him up on the offer but Eddie barely took his big shiny eyes off him for the rest of the evening, so it was totally worth asking) but Dustin claims he just wore them down with his "- dad energy, Steve, I had to stop you from wearing your fanny pack to the pool."

Excuse him, Dustin, if El might need tissues in case of a nosebleed or if Robin gets another papercut on something that isn't even paper and needs a band-aid or -

Oh.

Oh god, he's the goddamn babysitter by instinct now, fuck.

"Steve," Eddie says as solemnly as he can with a giant piece of baked macaroni in his mouth. "This is fucking heaven."

Trying his best not to preen, Steve smiles and nods as he takes another bite. But apparently, Eddie isn't finished.

"No, seriously, this is like, if an angel stuffed liquid gold into my hands and told me I could chug it. I'm not even -"

"Dude," Steve laughs. "What does that even mean?"

"You think I know?!" Eddie says, his lips twitching like he's holding back his own laugh. "I'm just the messenger here!"

He doesn't know how they made it through lunch because Eddie kept pulling out stories and jokes that got Steve laughing so hard, he literally choked and needed five minutes just to breathe normally again ("Come on, Stevie, keep breathing for me, match me, come on, don't make me panic too -"). It's like he was doing his best to make Steve lose his shit.

Which.

Huh.

Interesting thought to come back to later, because step two has been completed.

On to step three: clean up lunch together as an excuse to be physically close and make some gentle, casual touches.

Casual, because outright holding his hand might be jumping ahead ("I feel like our impulse control gets better when we're together. Wha - that doesn't count, we were high off surviving the apocalypse and she was very pretty!"), and Steve definitely doesn't want to scare Eddie off.

"I am no coward!" Eddie declares, shoving his hands straight into the sink and under the running water as he turns his nose up at Steve. "If the dishes need be done, then they shall be done, good sir, so sweareth I, noble -"

"Oh my god, just start washing, y'goose," Steve lightly shoves at his shoulder and no surprise that step three is already going well, he's just that good at strategy, thanks Frankie. He picks up the already-washed cup and uses the towel he slapped onto his own shoulder to dry it off. "I don't know how you keep pulling those monologues out of nowhere like that."

"Observation, imitation and practice," Eddie says smugly, wiggling in place as he works on the plates. "It's not all pure talent, y'know, I gotta work at it."

"Ha ha," Steve rolls his eyes, barely able to keep his smile in. He nudges Eddie's shoulder once, lets him nudge back, does it again and repeat, until he just lets his shoulder rest against Eddie's. "Thanks for coming over, man."

"'S no problem," Eddie lightly shrugs his other shoulder. "I...like hanging out. With you."

Steve pauses. There's no "I know, crazy right?" or "The Hair and the Freak, who'da thunk?" or "But don't get sappy on me!" that follows.

There's just him and Eddie, side-to-side. There's gentle sunlight streaming in through the window and it makes his rings shine and there's -

"Eddie, what the fuck, you didn't take your rings off?!"

Without a second thought, Steve grabs his hands out of the water and immediately does a headcount (or is it a ringcount? Whatever, doesn't matter), drying off Eddie's hands with the not-damp side of the towel. None of them got lost ("You keep track of his rings? Stevie - no, that's different, stop turning your gay - sorry - bisexual pining on me!"), so he carefully dabs at them to let the shine through.

That's when it occurs to him that there is, in fact, a person attached to these rings.

Ah.

"I, uh -" Steve coughs. "If you're gonna help with the dishes - I mean, we wouldn't wanna lose any of these, right?"

Peeking up at Eddie, who's entire face is flushed pink, staring straight ("Haha, straight. What? Let me have this -") at him, Steve feels something roll through under his skin, making him stand taller, making his face relax, making him feel like - (You can do this, dingus. I believe in you.")

"Here," Steve says softly, pulling a ring off Eddie's pointer finger slowly, waiting for a refusal. When he peeks back up at Eddie, he's still frozen, wide eyed and blinking repeatedly. He gently pulls off the ring from his middle and ring fingers, and holds the silver collection up in the palm of his hand. "Keep them safe."

Frozen, Eddie doesn't say anything.

"Eddie?" It's impossible to hold back his smirk at this point, even harder not to let it widen when Eddie's eyes snap to his lips. "Did you want me to keep them?"

Before he can put them in his pocket, Eddie snatches them out of his hand and shoves the rings into his own pocket, the noise of clacking metal apparently breaking the spell. He squeaks out an, "All good, Stevie!" and quickly goes back to the sink to shove his hands under the water.

See, that would normally hurt, the idea that Steve's touch needed - needed to be washed off. But he saw Eddie's eyes, his expression whenever Steve touches his skin. That's not disgust.

Nah, that's not disgust at all actually.

Steve smiles as he watches Eddie curse when he almost drops a fork, hair bouncing against the sunlight so prettily. He lightly glides up behind Eddie, gathering the curls together, humming when Eddie freezes again.

"Uh -"

"Can I tie it up?"

Eddie seems to take a moment. "Sure," he says quietly.

Continuing to hum, Steve runs a hand through Eddie's hair, coaxing away any little tangles and knots. It's nice to see he's been keeping up with the new routine he and Mike have started together, even if it took Robin's horror stories of hair damage (which were definitely exaggerated just so she could see Mike's face) to get them to think about it. Once he's got all of Eddie's hair held up, he takes his time getting a hair tie out of his back pocket ("What if I need one and I forget? Or Erica? Or Max? Or -") so that he can stare at the nape of his neck, pale but littered with little pink scars.

How pretty can one guy be? Every little part of him, every expression, every -

And then the phone rings.

What the hell.

"For the record," Steve says before he finally ties up Eddie's hair into a bun that hangs low on his head. He starts slowly stepping away and out of the kitchen. "I like hanging out with you too, Eddie."

Speed walking his way to the phone, Steve lets it ring a few more times, taking in quiet and deep breaths because holy shit, did he just do that? He just did that ("I can't believe you fucking did that, oh my god. I mean - I always believed in you!"). With a grin and a glow in his chest that spreads across his veins like some kind of magic high, he answers the phone.

"Harrington Residence -"

"Steve!" Jeff's voice sounds winded and his heartbeat is already racing fast.

"What's wrong, are you okay?" His blood on fire, ready to hit back, where're the bad guys, his axe, where's his axe -

Jeff swallows a deep breath. "Yeah, no, yeah, yeah I'm fine. I wanted to warn you about Frank."

Steve blinks, moves the phone away to stare at it, before putting it back to his ear. "Why, what did he do?"

"He said he was coming over to help with that thing even though you said you'd handle it, and I know you're meeting up with you-know-who so like, be alert."

His eye is twitching. Fuck, he better not be getting a headache today, it's his day off to chill for once, he deserves better than this. "He already came by, dude. He just left like an hour ago."

Jeff swears colorfully enough that it relieves the tension of Steve's shoulders when he laughs. "That motherfucker lied to me, he said he was coming by for dinner."

"He probably knew you were gonna warn me," Steve grins as quiet sounds of plates and cupboards echo out from the kitchen. "Why are you even warning me anyways? I mean I know I backtracked but it was pretty neat of him to try helping out anyways.

"'Pretty neat' he says. God, Harrington, you're such a dad," Jeff teases and it's one of those rare times the joke makes Steve laugh without shame.

Out of everyone in Steve's life, Jeff is one of few who don't make Steve feel so bad about wanting a big family ("Platonic soulmates excluded, of course, right?"). Maybe it's because he gets it, especially after Trey had moved out so quickly. He gets how a house can be lonely without a bunch of family filling up the space.

Jeff hesitates. "Like I said, I know you wanted some alone time today." His voice softens to a murmur and Steve can't help but run a hand through his hair, fidgeting with a lock at the back of his neck. It's getting so long now. It makes him think of Eddie's nape, warm and so pale against the black of his hair but still so alive. "You said you were gonna make a move."

"I -" Steve blows out a breath, cupping his own neck and staring out the window into the greenery outside. The sunlight really does make everything look so much warmer. Alive. "Yeah. Yeah, I am. Today, actually."

"That's great!" Jeff whispers excitedly and Steve just laughs again. "Shit, okay, I should let you get back to it then. I'll phone Wayne for your check-in too, good luck man!"

"Thanks, Jeff. That...means a lot." Steve smiles. "Talk to you later."

Setting the phone against the wall ("You think you're so fancy with your wall phone, Harrington?! ...Yeah, you are, it's pretty cool actually. Should we crank call Hopper or would that be like, a crime?") feels like a weight's been lifted off his shoulders. Alive, safe, well.

The approval of Eddie's friends isn't exactly something he'd expected to want or to get really, but they keep surprising him. Even Wayne's been really supportive of Steve in general, always trusting him to take care of their people, even if he does ask everyone to check-in with him whenever Eddie visits. Sometimes the paranoia doesn't lift up and Steve definitely isn't going to give the man grief about it when he understands.

With a nod, Steve turns back to the kitchen and stops when he sees Eddie, who quickly stumbles back on the kitchen door when he tries hiding.

"Ow." Eddie rubs his elbow with a wince. He quickly hops along the wall to get to the sun room. "Pay no attention to the man behind - uh - out of the kitchen?"

"Eddie," Steve laughs as he follows, the panic of hurt, he's hurt, find him, bring him home, keep him safe fading away. "Eddie, wait, what were you even -"

"Upupup!" Eddie plugs his fingers into his ears and starts chanting. Steve has to lunge when he almost bangs his hip against the doorframe to pull him to the side instead. With a groan, Eddie hides his face in his hands. "Can we pretend none of that happened and that I was on my way to get my guitar without eavesdropping?"

"Nope," Steve says cheerfully, dragging Eddie along by hooking an arm over his shoulder. "I'm gonna be using that for weeks."

"Well excuuuuse me," Eddie squints, dropping down to pick up his guitar and sling it over one shoulder. "If I just wanna know why Jeff would be calling right after a house call from Frankie. You planning something I don't know about?"

"Don't worry your pretty little head about it. It's just some new tracks," Steve pats his shoulder and saunters his way to the stairs. "Now come on, you promised me a show."

It's silent, no footsteps, no quip, so Steve turns back just in case.

"Huwha?"

Yup, same flushed cheeks. Looks like his plan is working perfectly. Steve smiles, turns back around and makes his way up the staircase. It's almost time for the final step - actually fucking saying something.

He's got this. Right? ("Right.")

"So," Steve starts as they walk into his bedroom ("Keep your cool, keep it together, do not fuck this up - but also no pressure, this is a big step -"). "What exactly were you gonna show me anyways? All you said was a melody and -"

"Upupup," Eddie says, placing his hands on Steve's shoulders and walking him back towards his bed, where he ends up tripping on to. "Woah, shit! You okay?"

Shaking his head, Steve just laughs. The giddiness has finally cracked open in his chest, all his feelings floating up like - like they're in his blood, pouring out of him. "All good. You're that excited, huh?"

"Don't think you can trick me," Eddie pokes a finger at Steve's forehead, both hands coming down to rest at Steve's shoulders as he lightly shakes him. "This is very important, Harrington, no distractions or interruptions, alright?"

Steve lets his hands glide back behind him on the bed, leaning back on them and tilting his head. With a soft smile (practiced and well-worn with the amount of times he's used it for Robin, Max, Dustin, Erica, Eddie), he leans on his hands behind him, watching Eddie's cheeks turn pink in real time. "Alright. Impress me, Munson."

It takes a second, Eddie fumbling with his guitar and his jacket, his eyes flickering back to Steve before snapping away, but eventually he spins around and sits on the floor, leaning against the bed. Without the leather (a gift from Dustin, with Mike and Steve's help, that made Eddie cry that day, no matter how much he denies it), he looks smaller. His white shirt isn't thick enough, lets Steve see the skin underneath, the wounds and scars.

With a sigh, Steve brushes a hand along Eddie's shoulder, lets the warmth sink in -

"Woah!" Eddie chokes, twitching in place, shaking Steve's hand off. "I said no interruptions, my good sir!"

"Sorry," Steve says genuinely, totally went a bit far there, that's fair. He clears his throat and shuffles to lie down along the bed instead, careful not to hit Eddie with his feet ("You've gotten enough concussions for all of us, so it's my job to make sure it doesn't happen again, as your best friend and soulmate because I am not losing you.") and settles on his side. "Go ahead, I'm listening."

Eddie takes a deep breath, readjusts his guitar, tunes it, strumming and adjusting and tuning and looping over and over - "Okay, uh, could you like - uh, not like, stare at me? I mean, not - I'm just - uh, nervous I guess."

With a blink, Steve says, "'Course, man. Take your time," and reshuffles so he's staring up at the ceiling. The glow-in-the-dark stars he put up with Dustin are still up there. They don't glow that much but he thinks they're bright enough for him.

"Thanks," Eddie murmurs and clears his throat. With one final deep breath, he starts playing and...

It's good. It's great actually. Steve doesn't know much about music ("You're surrounded by musicians! You play music when you - you know, do the thing! I bet you know way more than you think."), but the melody is slower than he expected, less head-banging and more...just looking at his stars.

He lets his head turn so he can watch Eddie play, the little bun of hair pulled up higher than when he tied it up. It isn't anything special, but it makes the cracked-open glow in Steve's chest burn brighter, melt out of his ribcage like some kind of radioactive goop that he doesn't bother scooping back inside. Not when it feels like this.

The sunlight is dimmer now, but it shines over Steve's legs onto the back of Eddie, casting a shadow on the bedroom floor.

With that thought, the melody ends and Eddie turns a little in his spot to stare at Steve. He looks nervous, the light outside keeping him bright and Steve can't look away. "So, uh, what - what'd ya think?"

It isn't that easy, describing music. Usually Steve sticks to whatever makes him feel good, sometimes just whatever makes him feel in general. But this felt -

"That was amazing, Eddie." The words taste awkward on his tongue but it's blown away by the delight in Eddie's face.

"Yeah?! Yeah, I wanted to try something different, after everything, y'know, so I figured, well the world almost ended, maybe going easy for once wouldn't hurt and -"

He goes on. He goes on and smiles at Steve and the sunlight surrounds them and he can't take it anymore.

Sitting up and smoothly shifting back onto the bed, Steve leans over and reaches out. When his hand cups Eddie's jaw, the rambling stops. He stares down, Eddie stares up, the sunlight reaching out between them, and Steve lets out a soft chuckle.

"You're amazing," Steve says, bringing over his other hand so he's gently holding Eddie's face. He doesn't know what he looks like but he knows that in this moment, Eddie is stunning. Big wide eyes, pink flush and a shadow over his face -

Knock knock knock.

"Oh, you are fucking with me -" Steve shouts, leaping off to the other side of the bed to see - "Gareth?!"

"Open - the - window -" The scrawny asshole mouths up at him through the window, one hand wobbling on the frame. Steve has a quick, ruthless thought of pulling the blinds down but it'll never be more than a thought. With a sigh, he opens the window and reaches out, helping Gareth climb through. "Holy shit, that was so scary. How the hell did you do this every night?"

"I -" Steve sputters, shutting the window behind him. "I did not climb through people's windows every night! Just - like, on the occasion! Shut up, what are you even doing here?"

"Okay, so remember when you told me about -"

"Nope!"

Steve and Gareth jump, looking over to find a fuming Eddie, his guitar strewn on the bed and his expression manic.

"Nope, we're not doing this, actually, thanks Gary," Eddie says brightly, grabbing Gareth by the scruff of his shirt and dragging him out of the bedroom. "I'm sure whatever movie or album or debate or whatever you just couldn't wait to talk to Steve about, it actually can and will fucking wait!"

He shuts the door behind the poor kid before spinning around and stomping over to the window, where he pulls the blinds shut so they're left in shadows. Steve stares as Eddie breathes heavily, his shoulders hunched up and hair lifting up and down and -

Then Eddie spins around again, grabbing Steve by the shoulders and staring straight into his eyes.

Steve blinks.

"Listen up, Harrington," Eddie spits out, his glare vividly stuck on Steve's face. "You and I both know this little meet up wasn't just some meet up and I have no fucking clue why my band keeps interrupting us, but I'm going to fucking explode if I don't kiss you right here, right now after a whole fucking day of just - just you."

Steve blinks twice.

Eddie's breathing is still heavy but not harmful, his eyes wide and harsh on Steve's, so dark without the sun, so deep and obscure. His hair is still in the bun, messed up and frazzled as it is, a few curls coming down to brush against his cheek.

He really does light something up in Steve.

"Harrington, I swear -"

"Kiss me," Steve says and -

And he does.

And it's amazing.

Eddie mashes their faces together, knocking Steve's teeth with his own, bumping their noses, gripping Steve's shoulder too tightly.

It's everything.

Steve sighs into the kiss, running a hand up to Eddie's jaw, letting the other coax around Eddie's back and pull him in closer.

It's Eddie.

"Guys?"

With the very audible sound of skin on skin, Steve pulls away, heart fluttering when Eddie sighs and the breath touches his lips. He opens his eyes and stares at Steve, who rests his forehead against his.

Giggling, he shyly says, "Hi."

Steve grins, closing his eyes briefly to nuzzle their noses together. "Hey."

"Sooo," Eddie giggles again. "That was nice."

"Very nice," Steve hums. He strokes a thumb over Eddie's cheek, feeling the heat of the pink against it. "We should do it again."

"Yeah? Yeah, I think so too." Eddie leans in -

"Guys? What's happening?!"

"Gareth, I swear to GOD I am killing off your character," Eddie yells at the door, his arms wrapping around Steve's neck heatedly. It feels amazing. "In fact, I'm killing off all of your characters after the stunts you guys pulled today!"

"Wha - what did we do?! Wait, what did I do?"

"He's right," Steve leans closer, nuzzling Eddie's hair. "They were just trying to -"

"Oh no," Eddie half-heartedly smacks his chest, cheeks still a pretty, pretty pink. "Don't defend them, not when you're the one that used your weird charm on my friends and made them all 'Ooh, Steve this, Steve that' while I was trying not to think about your ass for the fifth time every goddamn day!"

Blinking, Steve smirks. "Think about my ass often, Munson?"

"Shut the fuck up," Eddie glares. "And get back here."

Lucky him, Steve doesn't think he'd want anything else.

if anyone else had wanted to be tagged but wasn't or if i accidentally tagged someone wrongly, my apologies tag list: @ramyayaya @alienace @5pac3g1r7 @emly03 @tell-me-a-secret-a-nice-one @maya-custodios-dionach @elliegrey2803 @bejeweledbaby @blanketlicker @messrs-weasley @estrellami-1 @stillfullofshit

#sailor✧writes #steddie #sailing✧harrington charms hellfire #writing #fanfic #au content #corroded coffin #hellfire club #HERE WE GO #THE DOOZY IS DONE

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storiesofsvu · 11 months

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Love Comes Quietly Ch 7

Alex Blake x reader warnings: language, the usual amount of chaos, more detailed case work/situations involving an unsub and injury/death. Some hurt/comfort with a bit of a bad brain day kinda vibes.

You hadn’t realized just how incredibly weird it was going to feel being home alone in the house all weekend. Alex was gone to the airport before you even woke up on Saturday, leaving you a warm pot of coffee for whenever you did decide to start your day. But aside from that there was not a single thing to tell you that she was around, it just felt like you’d rented an Airbnb from someone. All her dishes had been cleaned and put away, laundry was folded on her bed, the door to her room only left open a crack. She’d been so quiet your plan of being up to say goodbye and give her one last offer of a ride to the airport had been squashed.

Instead you poured yourself a mug of coffee, sliding the glass patio door open as you debated what to have for breakfast. It turned out you didn’t have to worry about making that choice as Emily was at your door less than fifteen minutes later with breakfast sandwiches and honey butter tots from Cracked Eggery. Somehow she’d forgotten coffee, so you refilled the machine to brew a fresh pot while she settled in at the kitchen island, sliding you your preferred sandwich while the tots stayed centered.

“I can see you eyeing the pool already.” You teased with a grin, stealing another tot.

“I’m just saying… it’s supposed to be super nice all weekend and she’s gone til Wednesday.”

“You know you’re allowed to come over when Alex is here, right? And that she’d be fine with you using the pool.”

“So… that means if I happen to have a repurposed go bag in the car we can lounge by the pool all day and do a hot tub wine night?” She practically pouted at you and you laughed.

“Yeah, but after we’ve gone to see these houses.” You drained your coffee, “I can’t keep being a freeloader forever.”

“How are you a freeloader?” Emily’s brow furrowed, nearly furrowing further at the pink tinge in your cheeks as you placed the coffee mugs into the dishwasher.

“Alex… doesn’t make me pay rent.” You shrugged.

“Oh, so you’re already married, I’ll jot that down to remember.”

She winced, knowing there was a well deserved punch coming to her shoulder as you rounded the island.

You were wandering through stop number one in Crestwood, $1.05 mil for a 3 bedroom 3 bath, much more space than you needed but you knew you’d figure out what to do with the extra rooms. The realtor had guided you through the main space, walking you through some of the specs and details before letting everyone explore on their own. You’d gotten to the top of the stairs, looking into the main bedroom before glancing back to Emily to find her nose scrunched.

“What?” You asked dryly.

“I absolutely hate how it’s all just one room.”

“We’re in a closed off hallway.”

“No, the main level. Like there’s no privacy or like… ability to make rooms have different vibes. Besides, if you burn something in the kitchen the entire place will smell like burnt.”

“Eh, you make a point there.”

Spot number two only took a knowing glance between you and Emily to know that it was a hard pass. You knew you’d prefer a full house but figured you may as well add on some apartments to the list in case you found something cheaper that you loved. The place was cramped, not very stylish, and the elevator had been out of order making you climb up the four stories.

Stop number three was a little more enticing, $1.27 for four bedrooms and bathrooms. It was a new construction listing, gorgeous marble in the bathrooms with more space than you really knew what you would do with.

“You’re biting your lip.” Emily murmured with a chuckle, “what’s not to like, aside from how fucking white everything is.”

“That is the downside to all these new places isn’t it?” You asked with a sigh, “it’s gonna sound petty but I wish the front porch was better. Alex’s is perfect, if it’s too sunny for the backyard it’s the perfect place to curl up with a book.” You explained as the two of you wandered onto the back deck.

“There’s little to no privacy here either, look how close the neighbour’s deck is.” Emily replied with a head tilt toward the barely there fence between yards. “Like yeah, it’s nice to know your neighbours when you’re away from home as often as we are but I’d also like to be able to be in my yard and know I can’t be seen.”

“Fair point.” You stepped back inside the house, exploring further into the main level as you’d already done the upper ones.

“And the amount of stairs? I mean isn’t that a little excessive?”

“You know, growing up I always wanted a place with an upstairs, it seemed like it was a rich people thing.” You both laughed, “my place in Boston had one, and I fucking hated it.”

“Get up in the morning, get all the way downstairs only to realize you’d left your phone upstairs?”

“Yeah.” You laughed, “I can’t imagine having to go up two flights every single time I needed to go to the bedrooms. It’s been so nice at Alex’s having everything on one level.”

“Imagine trying to figure out the stairs to the basement while drunk.”

“See,” you laughed, “this is why I made you come with me, you think of all the off kilter things I never would.”

“This place is considerably smaller.” Emily pointed out, needing to take only two steps between the living room kitchen combo and the bathroom.

“Yeah but it’s considerably cheaper.”

“You’re really telling me you wanna swap that jacuzzi tub at Blake’s for only a stand up shower?”

“Ugh.” Your nose crinkled. If it wasn’t a hot tub night, you’d been using the luxurious tub to soak in after long weeks away in shitty hotel room beds. As if Emily could read your mind, a grin on her lips as she made her next point,

“Not to mention this one also has no yard. No sunny porch days, and certainly no pool.”

When you glanced up to the smirk on her lips you shot her a glare, but she was right.

Your final stop was a $1.2Million three bedroom in Glover Park and upon first glance, there was not much wrong with it. The porch out front was slightly smaller than Alex’s but still adorable, while Emily pointed out, once again, how much white there was inside, you reminded her that a thing called paint existed. The kitchen was stunning, all new stainless steel appliances, and the perfect sized breakfast bar and the entire place got an incredible amount of natural light.

You were tossing back and fourth the idea of putting an offer down with Emily as you toured the place. It was a nice area, it wouldn’t add to your commute, it was still close to both Emily and Alex, who you spent the most of your time with. Even with Emily pointing out that Alex’s place was nicer, you still only left after you’d put down an offer.

It was less than three hours later when you got the call that your offer had been outbid, the house being sold to the highest bidder. You let out a groan and Emily simply slid you a can of cider and tugged you into the backyard to spend the afternoon lounging in the sun. Dinner got ordered in and once dishes were taken care of wine glasses were poured and the rest of the evening was spent relaxing in the hot tub until exhaustion got the best of both of you and you retired to bed.

When Wednesday rolled around Alex barely had time to make it home from the airport to grab her go bag before you were ushering her out of the house with a homemade breakfast sandwich and full cup of coffee. Emily had called, you had a case and wheels were up in twenty so she really didn’t have a choice but to follow you into your car so you could beat traffic.

She could sense that you were a little on edge, wondering at first if it was just the early call in to work, being the first time you’d be parking and going directly to the jet. But she knew there was something more to it, you had an air of defeat wafting off you and she could tell by how strong the coffee was that you were more than tired. She didn’t want to press into it, but as you were stuck on the freeway she gently asked how your weekend was and you let out a weary sigh. You explained about the housing situation and apologised that you’d be sticking around a little longer to which she simply smiled, squeezing at your arm and reminded you that you truly were welcome as long as you wanted. You talked about the places you’d seen, how you thought your heart was set on the last one you’d been outbid on and everything you looked at online now just didn’t live up to expectations. Though you knew part of that was Emily’s voice in your head pointing out all the flaws or all the amenities that you currently had that the new places didn’t. When you mentioned Emily had stayed over for the weekend Alex chuckled, making a comment about that being why you were so tired. You rolled your eyes, but shot her a tired smile, agreeing that when Em was around you definitely didn’t get as much sleep. Not only would she drag you off on adventures, the woman was a restless sleeper, including talking in her sleep and because you didn’t want to banish her to the couch you’d shared a bed both nights. Alex laughed again, saying that if she was ever away again Emily was welcome to use her bed so you could get some beauty sleep. As you fell back to silence she could tell you were still somewhat dejected, that your optimism was slowly fading and you felt guilty about still being in her space and taking up so much of her life when you’d thought it would only be a few weeks at most.

Your optimism had only one direction to go once you were getting briefed on the jet and that was south. The case was bad, and as it ended up, it was the first one that you got stuck in the field with the unsub and victims. The warehouse was decrepit and had been falling apart for years already, condemned for demolition at an unknown date. Which meant that it went up in flames in a matter of minutes.

Derek managed to take out the unsub after a brief three way scuffle between all of you and the moment you knew he was okay to take the unsub on, on his own, you jumped for the victims. Three of them, all chained to separate pipes on three different walls of the room, you felt relief with the first, your optimism skyrocketing at how easy it was to get them undone and passed off to Derek. As you sprinted across the room to work on the second, your optimism began to crumble, clearly your first vic had been the unsubs last, rushed, messy and unfinished, enough to keep them restrained but not to the full capacity they’d wanted. Flames were dancing through the room, your skin covered in a sheen of sweat, lungs already choking on thick black smoke, your hands slipping on the restraints worse and worse with each second that you tried to undo them as your eyes started to water. You could hear Emily on your earpiece to get the hell out of there and Derek was repeating the same beside you, his hand wrapping around your bicep the moment you got the chain undone and the vic leaped into your arms, sobbing into your shoulder. You could hear the pleading screams of the third victim, attempting to surge in that direction but there was no way you were breaking free from Derek’s grip, his hand tightening around your arm as he dragged you from the warehouse to safety, the screams getting muffled the further you got from them as the sound of the fire engulfed your hearing.

“Please don’t ever fucking do that again.” Emily murmured softly as she wrapped you in her arms, squeezing at you tightly, her words both coming from a best friend and a boss.

“I know.” You mumbled back, relaxing into the hug enough to calm your raging adrenaline but not enough to bring down the mask you needed to keep up.

That was the problem about days like this, once you were cleared by the paramedics it was back to the jet to head home. The jet had zero privacy, so you did what you could, tugging your hoodie tighter around you and curling up into one of the seats in the back corner in an attempt to avoid everyone’s worried stares and questions.

You weren’t sure how you were able to fall asleep, blaming it on the exhaustion of the weekend, but it certainly didn’t last long, jolting awake at the sound of screaming, your body temperature skyrocketing as your eyes stung, blinking open and you realized where you were. You took a couple of deep breaths to try and calm yourself down, your gaze drifting out to the clouds outside the window when you felt someone come up beside you, silently settling in the seat before your eyes flicked to them.

“Coffee?” Alex offered, placing the cup down on the small table.

“Thanks.” You gave her the best smile you could muster and picked up the cup, hoping the caffeine would keep you from anymore nightmares in front of coworkers.

“That hurt?” She asked, fingers delicately brushing your hair off your face so she could get a better look at the forming bruise, the slow swelling of your cheekbone.

“I’ve had worse.” You admitted with a sigh, hiding behind the cup of coffee before your eyes found the window again.

A moment later, Alex’s hand wordlessly found yours, squeezing softly and you felt relief sinking through you. She watched carefully out of the corner of her eye as your shoulders relaxed, her thumb gently stroking over your knuckles to silently remind you that you weren’t alone, that you were safe and that she was there for your.

Her hand didn’t move until the wheels of the jet were back on the tarmac in Quantico.

“You mind if I drive?” She asked and you shook your head, pulling the keys from your bag and tossing them to her. Once settled in the car she switched off the radio, still playing high energy pop from your drive into work and shifted the car into drive, her hand reaching over to briefly squeeze at your thigh before she started driving.

You’d never been more thankful for Alex being home and her being the one to drive you back. You knew you were in no shape to drive right now and if Emily had offered there would’ve been constant chattering, questions, comments, anything to keep you engaged. But this car ride was pleasantly silent, Alex letting you figure things out in your head on your own. It wasn’t that big of a surprise to you, she was a profiler after all, and she’d always been able to read you relatively easy, an extra coffee on your desk on a day she knew you’d slept like crap, Midol left out on the kitchen counter when she knew you were on your period, extra ice cream stashed in the freezer, homemade chicken noodle soup on a day you were just slightly under the weather, before you’d even realized you were sick yourself.

Your elbow was on the windowsill of the car, your chin propped in your hand as you stared out to the blurring streets passing by, praying you wouldn’t get stuck in traffic. Tears were threatening to swim into your eyes already, your brain pulling all the bad thoughts of the week in at once mixed with images from inside the warehouse. You’d already been feeling unsuccessful, a bit of a burden before the case even started, now you were trying to fight the battle in your brain that you didn’t deserve to be on the team. You knew that your reports would match up, that Derek’s would say he drug you out of that building, that Emily would back you, deep down that you made the right call but you knew it was going to eat at you for a while.

“You awake over there?” Alex’s soft voice broke through your thoughts, her hand squeezing at your thigh and you nearly jumped, glancing around to realize you were in the driveway and you nodded, ducking your gaze so she couldn’t see your face.

You dumped your go bag by the door, only bothering to collect your phone before you beelined it to the bathroom. Stripping out of your clothing you turned the shower on, stepping into the stream in an attempt to relax yourself, washing away the day, washing away the smell of smoke, the memories you hoped you’d be able to forget. You welcomed the sensation of this kind of heat on your skin, staying under the stream until it had nearly begun to turn cold and you finally stepped out.

You were thankful for the distance between the sides of the house, able to dart back to your bedroom without being seen. You wrapped yourself in the coziest, warmest pyjamas you could find, tugging a hoodie on over them as you plugged your phone in, making sure it was on silent before you slipped under the blankets and flicked the television on, finding something mind numbing to hopefully distract you and lull you into sleep.

Alex heard the shower stop running, glancing in the direction of the hallway, unsurprised when the door clicked open and shortly after your bedroom clicked shut. She let out a soft sigh, she knew what this was like, cases like this, days like this, they were hard. It was your first technical loss as part of the BAU and while she wasn’t completely certain on your history, she was thinking it was likely your first real loss, one that you felt very responsible for. She heard the telltale click of your door again, waiting for a moment for your to appear but it was followed by the rustle of blankets and your television quietly playing. You weren’t ignoring her, but you did want your space and she would respect that.

She spent a bit of time following up on a couple of emails, replied to a couple of texts from Emily before she felt her stomach grumbling. There wasn’t much in the fridge after your last minute case, but she found enough between it and the freezer to make up some chicken fajita bowls, hoping the sounds and smells of food would entice you out of your room. She wasn’t necessarily worried about you, but she cared about you and wanted to make sure that you knew you weren’t going to be held accountable, that you were loved and you were good at your job. So an hour after she finished the dishes, she prepped a couple of things, and grabbed a couple more before wandering down to your door.

Your ears perked up at the sound of a very soft knocking at your door, a pause before Alex pushed it open, finding you burrito’d in your blankets on the bed.

“Can I come in?” She asked, a gentle smile on her face and you nodded. She slowly moved through the room, placing down an Uncrustable and a steaming mug of hot chocolate, complete with whipped cream on the bedside table, a matching one in her free hand. “I figured you weren’t up for dinner, but you should eat something. You barely ate breakfast. And I thought maybe some cocoa could cheer you up.”

You didn’t say anything, unsure of what you could to try and properly get your emotions across to a linguist like Alex, but you did push yourself up to sitting, delicately taking the mug off the table to take a small sip. The beverage soothed through your body, warming up the deepest parts of your soul that you didn’t even know could be reached by something made of chocolate and Alex smiled at the way the corner of your mouth briefly twitched up.

“Would you like me to go?” She asked, nodding toward the door and you shook your head, shifting over on the bed so there was proper space for her.

Both of your attention turned to the television, Alex unsurprised that you had Love Island reruns on to distract you as the two of you sipped at your drinks. As soon as she was settled on the bed your head instantly found a home on her shoulder, your body nuzzling into her for relief and her free hand easily slipped into yours once again, squeezing softly. She could feel you attempting to hold back, little sighs or shivers from your body becoming your tell as you tried to ignore them.

An episode later and both your mugs lay empty on the bedside table. Alex heard you sigh, take a shaky breath and her hand finally left yours so her arm could wrap around your shoulders, her lips leaving a feather soft kiss to the top of your head.

“I know you don’t want to talk about it and know that I am absolutely not trying to profile you, or professor you, but what happened today was not your fault. I know that things have kinda been off, that maybe you’re doubting yourself, that to your brain it may feel that way, but it is not, you cannot blame yourself.” Her voice was barely above a whisper, soothing straight into your soul, but it somehow also managed to start to break you.

“Sarah’s parent’s sure can.” You finally spoke, your voice wavering and Alex honestly found herself surprised that you’d spoken.

“No, no they cannot.” She assured with a squeeze, “they will never know the details of what happened in that warehouse. And the person they are to blame is the unsub. You did everything you could. And the parents of those other two girls? They’ll be eternally grateful to you and Morgan.”

“Then why do I feel so fucking inadequate?” You mumbled, burying yourself deeper into her arm and Alex let out a soft sigh.

“Okay, c’mere.” She tugged at you, slipping under the blankets of the bed as she sat against the headboard, urging you between her legs so you were properly nestled against her chest, arms softly wrapped around her as one of hers rubbed up your back, the other still linked with yours. “You had a rough week, you’re overtired, right?”

“I’m sorry.” You mumbled.

“For what?” She asked, brushing the hair off your face.

“You let me crash, I never meant to stay this long but I never thought finding a place would take this long.”

“Please.” She smiled with a small laugh, “you do my dishes, you take out the trash, you’re a help to this household, not a burden, okay?” You nodded but she pinched at your shoulder, “uh-uh, I need to hear it.”

“Okay.”

“Okay what?”

“I’m not a burden.” You mumbled, taking another shaky breath.

“That’s it.” She smiled, her hand squeezing at yours, “and you are excellent at your job. That is not me bluffing either. I know your phone’s turned off but Emily and Morgan have been texting all night to check in on you and commend how well you did today.”

“I’ve never done something like that.” You admitted with a whisper, your hand quickly coming up to wipe away a tear that finally found its way to escape. “I couldn’t leave her… we were so close…” You trembled in her arms and Alex felt her heart wilt, squeezing at you softly.

“You know it’s okay to cry, right?” Her lips ghosted at your temple and with that encouragement you finally let out the shuddering breath, tears streaking down your cheeks.

Alex held you tighter, her hand softly rubbing up and down your back as you finally let all of your emotions out from the past week. She wished she had something more to say, a better way to comfort you, to let you know that it was all going to be okay, that you were loved, that you were great at your job, that tomorrow would be better. But she didn’t know how to piece it together so she simply held you, letting you get it all out until your breathing finally regulated and she realized you had cried yourself to sleep.

Alex felt a warm ray of sun across her face and her brow scrunched. Her room didn’t face the sunrise, the birds chirping outside the window were certainly not outside of hers and for a moment she thought she was still in a hotel room. Then the warmth of your body against hers jolted her conscious awake. You were still very nestled into her side, your arms loosely wrapped around her as you slept peacefully. She glanced up, the television was displaying the ‘keep playing?’ menu on Netflix and the sun was barely streaming through the curtains. It had to be early. She did her best to slowly slip from under the blankets, making sure you were still blissfully asleep before she disappeared from the room.

_________________

@svulife-rl @clarawatson @hbkpop @momlifebehard @alexusonfire @itisdoctortoyousir @temilyrights @alexxavicry @evilregal2002 @alcabots @ladysc @dextur @disneyfan624 @augustvandyne @supercriminalbean @lex13cm @prentiss-theorem @happenstnces @whiteberryx @heidss @geekyandgay98 @onmykneesformarvel @inlovewithemilyprentiss @desperate-gay @amypoehlfey @overtrred28 @emobabeyy @1974-sp @theclassicgaycousin @kalixxa @leftoverenvy @bigolgay @daddy-heather-dunbar @regalmilfs4me @scorpsik @riveramorylunar

#alex blake #alex blake x reader #criminal minds #love comes quietly #alex blake: criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic #alex blake fanfic

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mrbensonmum · 1 month

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TV Show - Dr. House | House M.D. XI

The end of the sixth season is not only near, it's kicking the door in with a cane. Just now, in the last episode of the season, the construction crane collapsed. And man, have we been through a lot.

Towards the end of the fifth season, things really heated up. First, we got to see "The Social Contract," another very interesting episode, as I mentioned before. Then, with "Locked In" and "Simple Explanation," things got intense, and before we knew it, the tone changed, and House found himself in the midst of a crisis.

Of course, we can't overlook that this crisis had a trigger, a pretty intense one at that. One morning, Kutner didn't show up for work. Many assumptions were made, and when Foreman and Thirteen went to his apartment, they discovered that Kutner had shot himself.

This was already the case before, but from here on, the series unabashedly plays with colors (Color Grading). The mood is often supported by a dark, blue tone or a light, soft, slightly orange tone, making it even more clear to the viewer. This happens right up until the sixth season and occurs again and again, depending on how intense the various moods are dictated by the story.

I also found it intense that Amber was brought back into play here. She had become an important link between House and Wilson, even though it looked different after her death. This also reminds me of a description of Amber that I should have mentioned much earlier, where she is described as being like House and how Wilson actually wants to be with House. It's interesting because that's exactly what happens in the sixth season when House and Wilson move into the new apartment. For a brief moment, they're a couple, and it just fits incredibly well. It's just a shame that the lovely Sasha Alexander has to suffer because of it. It's fascinating how she has changed since the first two seasons of NCIS.

We wouldn't be with House if everything were easy. So, House himself has to go through hell again before he is actually taken to a rehab center on a second attempt. Anything else wouldn't fit, but I also felt a little sorry for him here because realizing that his dream was just a dream, where he didn't end up with Cuddy, was pretty harsh.

The sixth season then starts with House's stay in rehab or in a psychiatric hospital where he meets interesting personalities. This includes Franka Potente, who is mainly known from German productions, which pleased me at the time. She is also one of the few German actors who can dub themselves, which was very well done here. I really like this story arc because it shows the ups and downs of House and his realization that constant rebellion may not be the right path after all.

Of course, many important topics are addressed again in the sixth season, one of which is euthanasia. It has been shown or hinted at several times before, but here it appears several times. One time, it's even not from the patient's perspective but from the doctors', which is incredibly unusual. The most impressive was also the instance where House was locked in with a dying patient and increased his morphine dose in the end.

The other major topic is, of course, Chase's act. He caused the death of a patient who was a dictator. This episode has raised questions over and over again, and rightly so. Is that okay? Is that justified? Just as I write about it, I realize that I don't want to delve into this topic as much because discussions about it are exhausting and not good for me right now. But everyone has to decide for themselves, especially in such a profession, what all of this means for them, ethically and morally.

I've skipped over some episodes and topics now, and that's somewhat intentional. Because while the sixth season does focus on the patients' respective illnesses, it focuses even more on the developments of the protagonists. Foreman and Thirteen and their relationship. Taub and his wife, how does their marriage progress? Wilson and his love life! Cuddy, Lucas, and Rachel? And of course, House and his attempt to be happy, which becomes more than clear in the last or penultimate episode with a session with Dr. Nolan. All of this is extensively dealt with in the sixth season and leads to some back and forth, which I don't mean in a negative way. Because even though there were already developments before, those that occur in the sixth season provide a breath of fresh air and keep the series at a high level of entertainment.

However, to come back to the penultimate episode of the sixth season, I can really understand House. You do and try everything, work on yourself, do your best, listen to others and their expectations of you, but in the end, only others feel better, and you feel worse. It's an absolutely terrible feeling, to put it bluntly, and no, it's not just because he's depressed or the pain is getting worse again. House is an overthinker, and he has already thought about a lot. No, it's a realization of the fact, and this is then reinforced by what happened in the last episode (the leg amputation). I don't condone what he does, but I can understand it.

The last episode is almost finished, and I'm not sure anymore how season seven starts; I'll indulge in that in a moment. I still remember quite a bit, but as often happens, it's a bit jumbled, so it's even more exciting.

Bonus: There's one more thing I'd like to write about because it was an episode that personally moved me. "Locked In" was again an episode where I felt very understood. Because even though the Locked-in Syndrome actually exists, there's another variant that is rarely talked about, sleep paralysis. A completely normal process where the body, once it falls asleep, becomes paralyzed so that we don't use the body too much while sleeping and dreaming. But it can also happen that you wake up, can breathe normally, move your eyes, but otherwise, you're practically paralyzed. Absolutely not a nice feeling, but again, kudos to the series for bringing attention to the fact that this exists and is something serious.

Oh yes, of course, I also noticed that Meat Loaf appeared in the fifth season. A great artist who heavily influenced my music taste in the 90s. Unfortunately, he has also left us, but I hope he rocks hard somewhere else.

#tvshow #tv show #dr. house #dr house #house md #greg house #gregory house #wilson #james wilson #dr wilson #cuddy #lisa cuddy #dr. cuddy #sasha alexander #ncis #meat loaf

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afreakingdork · 4 months

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Backfire

RotTMNT Donatello x Reader One-Shot

Tags: Aged-Up Mutant Ninja Turtles, Christmas, Christmas Fluff, Christmas Presents, Fire, One Shot, Gift Giving, Short & Sweet, Tactical Turtles (TMNT)

Synopsis: As Don stokes the flames to warm the house, you try to finally pull one over on him in the form of a gift.

Also Available on Ao3

A Secret Santa gift for @amutantturtleenthusiast

@crackedpumpkin fielded me with the idea and @morning-sun-brah stayed with me in the word doc to make this bad boy happen!

To Pen! Your tactical turtles changed my brain chemistry and, though I can't imagine doing them an ounce of justice as you do, I hope you enjoy this gift! Everyone go read Pen's series!

There was no way this was going to work.

Getting home from a veritable blizzard, Don had left you to warm the space. The day away had chilled it down to its very brick bones and the little hearth he’d constructed for the sake of the holiday no longer seemed like a silly one. You saw its practicality now, especially if the power went out as it threatened. You craved the flames that would lick up from the pit and his distraction was exactly what you needed.

“I’m going to wash up.” You told him.

His vague nod was one that spoke volumes.

It was always like that with him.

So little, too much.

By all accounts he should have been a fortress and, in many ways he was, but there were small tells that kept you going.

Not necessarily cracks in his emotional facade, but instead leaks that he allowed.

They were gifts.

Just like the one you were on your way to get.

Winding through the hall, it felt like all was for naught.

He was a genius.

He was beyond you in literally every way.

The fact that you had even purchased something, wrapped it, and hidden it was a marvel in and of itself.

Just shy of going to anime-like feats to make sure he hadn’t tampered with it, you knew he’d probably circumvented those too if he really wanted to know. There was a real chance that he already did. There was a chance he’d tailed you physically or visually via his network of security cameras. There was even a chance that he’d given the shop keep who’d smiled at you a little pep talk before you ever entered the store with an intent to buy him a single thing.

You hadn’t minded it.

It was a simple fact of being with your turtle.

It came with the territory.

It didn’t mean you didn’t want to circumvent him once in a while.

In all the years you'd been together, you hadn’t once seen surprise pass over his features. He always knew in some small way what you were aiming for and some version of you accepted what was never to be.

You also wanted to blow something up in his face once in a while.

So you’d gone through the secretive motions. You’d played your part. You’d gone above and beyond any and all spy thrillers, just for the lotto numbered chance of surprising Don. You decided that was enough. If you couldn’t get him with all this, it simply wasn’t within your power, but at least you tried and that counted for something.

Kicking out a bench from the edge of the guest bed, you dropped down to all fours and fondled under the mattress. Between some slats you’d wedged his gift and it came loose without a crinkling noise. A good sign, you checked that the wrapping was still in place before you hugged it close to your chest.

Now came the hardest part.

Creeping along a wall and just shy of pressing your body to it, you approached the room he was in. A small peek found him moving logs, and on instinct, after years together, you knew that he was aware of your presence. You watched him get hold of a poker and your body animated, as staying still was a tell in and of itself.

“I had a good day.” You moved behind him, hoping with every fiber of your being that he wouldn’t turn around.

He gave a tepid hum of agreement.

“We gonna snuggle up by that fire?” Small, innocuous steps brought you behind a couch, placed to look upon the hearth.

Only a puff of air followed. Something of an ill-formed chuff, it said that depended on your behavior.

A titillating thought in and of itself, you shoved those butterflies down. Squashing them with the net, you looked down at the present as he lit a match. He smoked the tinder and, in his squat, he revealed the mailbox for your postage.

It just had to be the stockings hung with care.

Pinned above his head and all too obvious, you almost laughed.

The odds were already abysmally against you making the free throw from half-court, but now you had the other team’s star player on defense.

What could you do?

The best you could.

As you’d already decided.

Sauntering up behind Don, you knew he was watching you even though you weren’t truly in his periphery.

Your intent was the only thing you could mask at this angle so you moved to work with your only option.

Steps that you hoped seemed natural brought you just beside his back.

A direct approach from behind a poor one, you made a show of reaching out with your free hand to skim his shoulder.

It was with the weight of your digits that you meant to translate what you felt and you sent it all towards distraction.

“Not now.” He grunted and stabbed one perky flame to give it a chance at life.

He needed to warm the house for his mate.

He wouldn’t let even you, said creature, get in the way of such a task.

It brought a smile to your lips and you left your hand there for a faint squeeze of that affection. “I’m just thankful.”

He didn’t move and allowed your question to be prompted by the air alone.

“A holiday with you.” You bent at the waist. “Spending time, the whole thing. I know it’s not your favorite.”

A flick of his pupil said he, in fact, hated it.

“But!”

His eyes returned to the growing fire.

You were running out of time.

Trying not to rush, but knowing your breath shook, you felt his muscles contract as he adjusted the smoldering pile.

He knew.

You’d deal with that later.

All that mattered was getting your gift into the stocking.

Whatever it took.

“I appreciate that you did it anyway.” You punctuated your point with a stolen kiss to the side of his head, and, at the same time, you were just barely able to shove your gift into his stocking.

Retreating, the gift dropped down the length of the garish boot shape and the fire cackled loudly as if to help you out.

Thanking the flames for all they provided, you released him. Don found the growing flame suitable and stood.

You took a step back to keep from stumbling and watched as he sized you up.

Always feeling dwarfed by him, you gave the smallest tilt of your head which metered your chin. It was an act of fealty that he preferred and, though he couldn’t give the exact of a smile, there was a twitch to one of the corners of his lips that said the gesture was one he preferred. You were rewarded for it, in that moment, as he dipped down and scooped you up. A movement you knew with a deep muscle memory, he approached the lone couch with your body held in the easy circle of his arms. Heat from the fire chased him as he gave minor adjustments until you were cozily tucked into his lap.

His body relaxed in the only small way he ever allowed and you knew this to be comfort for him. Snuggling into his chest since it also meant you could be a little extra selfish and get away with it, he turned into you. Awaiting a scolding, you readied yourself for a complaint when he instead kissed the side of your head as you had done to him.

Heart flipping, your breath caught in your throat as he nuzzled into your ear with what should have been the heated promise of what was to come in.

He continued to subvert you with a few whispered words.

Just enough to set you aflame, but not in the usual way, he was able to stoke you like the fire.

“If I were anyone else, I might have been surprised,” he rumbled in your ear.

You let out a sigh, deflating a little in his arms.

He gave a short chuckle that you hardly ever got to hear and laid a kiss across your cheek. “I appreciate it.”

Alit, it was the way his arms tightened around you, the way his snout pressed into the corner of your neck, and the way a low churr purred against your skin, that worked as a coordinated effort to soothe your disappointment.

You sighed anew, this time giving into satisfied relaxation of a job well done that the flames joined in on.

#rottmnt #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #rise of the tmnt #rottmnt x reader #rottmnt donnie x reader #rise donnie #donatello hamato #donnie x reader #rise donatello #rise donnie x reader #rottmnt donnie #rottmnt donatello #me #fanfiction #my fanfiction

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thelunarfairy · 6 months

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Omg I love your analysis they're THE BEST thing to read in freetime- like- they give such an insight to the story, it's always interesting!

Also can I just talk about Nene?!?! SHES SO COOL WJSJSJ ESPECIALLY IN THE RECENT CHAPTERS-

I've never been the type to hate characters or people unnecessarily. If I do dislike them, there's some reason or its just their vibe or attitude. The thing is I've never faced that with Nene. She has that childish type of personality with a sense of maturity we can say? Idk how to explain that- but she's so imaginative, and it makes me so sad how boys shoot her down because of her legs- SHES LEGIT SO PRETTY WHY- I also read that Nene analysis of yours as to why she's still being dreamy about boys when she was kissed by Hanako. Always makes me sad- MY GIRL DESERVES THE BEST-

The best thing about Nene is that she's determined and brave. Once she sets her mind on doing something, she actually manages to do it. Take that one panel for example with Nene and tsukasa, where she's getting chased by him and she swiftly ducks while that one thing hits him in the face. I always thought that was such a cool move. And I'm always so proud of seeing her go through character development. Who would believe that the Nene in the first chapter and the Nene in the recent chapters are the same- it's not even the personality change, it's the maturity level. I'm always screaming things like "SHES SO COOL SHES SUCH A GIRLBOSS" because she's IS one.

Man I'm one of hell of a Nene supporter, she's a bit naive but she's still mature enough. Makes me feel like we don't have the exact idea of what she feels most of the times. My girl has suffered in her own way.

I also really wanna know about her background! I'm pretty sure we haven't talked much about her parents right? I would love to see them sometime in the chapters since we already got mother reveal of kou, hanako and Mitsuba.

Awww thank you for your kindness ♡

I love it when you all say you like the posts hahaha because I love making them :3

How excited are you to talk about Nene! I liked it!

Hahaha I'm not the type to hate characters either, I like to appreciate every detail of their personality, even if they are terrible. Don't get me wrong, but I like to see whether a character is well constructed or not, regardless of whether he is a villain or a "hero", I will speak in these words so as not to prolong it.

Personally, I always thought that Yashiro was very wronged. I've seen many people saying that they don't feel affection for her because of the way she treats Hanako, in short, because she doesn't reciprocate Hanako's feelings in the same way or because she still feels attracted to other boys.

What happens is that Hanako has become the public's favorite, Nene is left out next to him, people will always care about him first. Damn, Nene was kissed by Tsukasa without her consent! Who did people focus on first?

Hanako, the poor boy crying inconsolably because his little brother kissed and kidnapped the girl he likes, but what about Yashiro? She was the one who was forcibly kissed, she was the one who was kidnapped. Baby Nene clearly shows how unhappy she is but no one seems to care!

"Look Yashiro is so annoying as a baby, Tsukasa is putting up with so much!"

But how did they want her to react???? She was kissed by force, she was kidnapped, she was forced to "play" with Tsukasa with the threat that he would rip off her arm (we don't know if he meant it literally because Tsukasa is Tsukasa, right) she had a part of her life stolen and is still being forced to remove the yorishiros even though she knows that if she does so she will die.

And people still expect her to react well to this? Can you understand how wronged Yashiro is? I really like the characters but I like to be fair to everyone, EVERYONE.

Yashiro has a very strong comedic side, so many bad things that happen to her end up going that way, people find it funny or think she is doing something wrong and everything bad that happens to her is because she deserves it. This is complicated, because it shows how people are failing to understand how she is developing in the story.

I'm glad you brought up Yashiro, because you were literally the first person who asked about her without having anything to do with Hanako. She is one of the protagonists and almost no one sees the potential she has. Yashiro has all these qualities you mentioned.

Yashiro is brave and protective, how many times have you seen her protecting Hanako?

She is selfless and Hanako knows that, he hid that he was going to sacrifice Aoi because he knew she would be against it, she went there not only to find Hanako, but also so that her best friend would stay alive. Yashiro took the blame in Hanako's place, since this was all his idea.

As well-intentioned as he was with Nene, it wasn't the right way. And since Hanako was unable to fulfill Nene's wish of prolonging her own life, she gives herself up for good, even though she doesn't really want to die. This arc in number 6 shows how selfless Yashiro is, she didn't have a grudge against Aoi when she threw her into that pit, she didn't tell Hanako that Sumire was a yorishiro because she knew he was going to tell her to remove it, she asked Hanako letting Sumire leave the village with them so she could have a new life, she refused until the end to remove Sumire's seal, do I need to list more than that?

Sumire herself says that Yashiro is too good to be able to remove the seal. Sakura had to show her what happened because Nene didn't remove the seal and Nene deeply regretted it because she didn't know it would end like this.

But people are worried because Yashiro thinks other boys are cute….

The girl went to a ghost as a last solution to find a handsome boyfriend to PROVE to the other guys who rejected her that she is also attractive. Her self-esteem is low, there is always someone making fun of her legs that she suffers so much and is insecure about, she is not envious of Aoi, even though her best friend is so beautiful and almost all the guys are interested in her.

Just put yourself in her shoes, can you imagine having to go and beg a supernatural person to have a boyfriend? She's always trying to learn things that boys like just so they'll look at her. Yashiro has his own problems, his own complexes and pains. I think it's sad that people haven't realized this.

She's developing, she's in love for the first time in her life, and her first love is a ghost boy who won't be able to offer her what a human can. But she insisted, didn't she? She is learning that looks are not everything, that there are many boys out there who think she is beautiful but she doesn't care because she wants to prove to people that even though she has those legs, she is still attractive, the way she finds to do that is thus.

Of course Yashiro has her bad sides, and that's a good thing. What kind of character would she be if she were perfect? The important thing is not for the character to be good all the time, but rather to make a lot of mistakes and learn from those mistakes. This is how a well-constructed character works. I see her development, she said she wouldn't get involved with someone who wasn't her type, but look who she's in love with. And now she takes over. You understand?

We see Yashiro's weaknesses all the time, and we're seeing her develop too. I think the main problem for people not to notice this is precisely the "comic" factor, you see, when they talk about Hanako's past, we have that air of seriousness, of sadness, that heavy air.

When it comes to talking about how Yashiro feels about boys, self-esteem, her legs, or how she feels about having to change to attract boys or something like that, it always has that "comical" air.

Look, she hates being called radish legs, let's call her that, it's funny. Have you ever imagined if people spent the whole time making jokes about the characteristic that you are most insecure about yourself?

It's funny when it's with others? But imagine if they made fun of Hanako or judged him all the time for killing his brother?

It wouldn't be nice, would it?

People get angry because Yashiro says Hanako isn't her type or when she comically refuses his advances, and they still get angry because poor Hanako can't be rejected by her.

Did you see the difference?

Hanako can make fun of Yashiro, call her a radish, everyone laughs, but Nene can't refuse Hanako's flirtations, because she doesn't deserve the love he offers her. Hahaha it's really funny when you clearly see who people's favorite is. That's because I didn't even mention him wanting to imprison her in a false world, or sacrifice her best friend… It doesn't matter, they will always find justifications for Hanako's actions.

Look, I love Hanako a lot, but we have to face the reality of the facts, imagine this in the real world. The boy you like wants to kill your best friend to save you. Do you understand how dangerous this is? People forget that Hanako is a dangerously charismatic boy, his attitudes send off a very high red alert, what he does is not justifiable, as he himself says! He knows this, the public has to understand it too!

Hanako has good intentions, he wants to save the girl he loves, but he goes about it the wrong way!!!

Saving someone's life by killing another???? Is this right?

But, to be completely fair, what bothers me most about Yashiro is that she still remains "friends" with Teru. It doesn't make sense after everything that has happened in these recent events. At this point I hope she wakes up and stops letting him hang around, and of course, stops flirting with him too, although Yashiro does this to make Hanako jealous, did you notice that? I hope so haha

Anyway, I thought the answer would be shorter hahaha but I was really excited to finally have a question about Yashiro! \O/

Yes! I'm curious to know about her family, she is a Kannagi and has unique powers, she can remove seals and purify. It means we'll learn more about her past in the future! I agree with you, I also really like Yashiro, one of the female characters that I find most fun.

I hope people give her more chances. She is a good girl who has her flaws but also her own qualities, like anyone else in the world hahah

I hope you liked it! Thanks for the ask! ♡

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apocalypticavolition · 2 months

Text

Let's (re)Read The Great Hunt! Chapter 37: What Might Be

Everyone has that moment that they've looked back on and wonder, "What if I'd done it differently?" Sometimes we can move on, put what-ifs to rest, but sometimes that question will haunt us for the rest of our lives. Don't let this post be that moment. Don't let future you think to themself, an hour from now, "What if I just hadn't spoiled the whole Wheel of Time series for myself by reading this post? What if I'd enjoyed the books by reading them without spoilers?" Don't click "Keep reading" unless you already know all the spoilers and thus will not forever be wondering.

(And yet... perhaps if you do not choose to spoil yourself, years from now you will look back on this moment and wonder what might have happened if you had.)

This chapter has a Portal Stone icon because we're doing one of the best chapters in the whole damn series.

“We stood it upright,” Alar said, “when we found it many years ago, but we did not move it. It . . . seemed to . . . resist being moved.”

Probably the Stones are all entangled in some sort of higher dimensional quantum process, on one part just to be able to function at all and on another to ensure that no one warps off to an alternate world where it turns out that the Stone was tossed into a volcanic caldera a few years back and thus they instantly die. I wonder if there's wiggle room to allow stuff like Stones falling in one world but not another, or if they're all so tied up that reorienting it in one world caused it to be fixed in all of the others too.

Forgive us for our lack of ceremony in leaving you, but the Wheel waits for no woman.

Since I've given Jordan a bit of guff here and there for enforcing his own gender beliefs on the settings, point here for having Verin use "woman" as the default term. Hashtag HER-story, amirite?

Ingtar’s back stiffened. “I hold back at nothing. Take us to Toman Head or take us to Shayol Ghul. If the Horn of Valere lies at the end, I will follow you.”

Really you might argue that this here was the real moment of redemption for Ingtar and that all the rest is just the formality of seeing it through.

I have never used a Stone; that is why your use is more recent than mine.

"Bitch I'm just covering so no one has to know you're the Dragon Reborn. Do the plot thing already!"

Also I kinda feel that Verin is really stretching the oaths she's pretending to have here.

What would I not give to talk with this girl of yours? Or better, to put my hands on her book. It is generally thought that no copy of Mirrors of the Wheel survived the Breaking whole. Serafelle always tells me there are more books that we believe lost than I could credit waiting to be found.

Honestly, even though rumors are so rarely right in this world, I think popular opinion is correct and none survive. I also find it pretty doubtful that there's that many lost books left to be recovered at this point: three and a half thousand years is a long-ass time, too long for most forms of writing to survive.

Apparently, not every Stone connects to every world, and the Aes Sedai of the Age of Legends believed that there were possible worlds no Stones at all touched.

Among others, any timeline where a Portal Stone was never constructed would by definition remain off of the network. I wonder how they decide what Stones connect to what, though. Was it perhaps based on what ifs related to the nearby areas? What other worlds were missing?

With one finger she outlined a rectangle containing eight carvings that were much alike, a circle and an arrow, but in half the arrow was contained inside the circle, while in the others the point pierced the circle through. The arrows pointed left, right, up and down, and surrounding each circle was a different line of what Rand was sure was script, though in no language he knew, all curving lines that suddenly became jagged hooks, then flowed on again.

I expect that these worlds have extremely non-Euclidean geometries at play, based on how they were used to make the Ways. Likely the arrow has something to do with a physical force, probably gravity.

As my father would have said, it’s time to roll the dice.

Headcanon: Mat is Verin's dad reborn.

“I am Rand al’Thor,” he growled. “I am not the Dragon Reborn. I won’t be a false Dragon.” “You are what you are. Will you choose, or will you stand here until your friend dies?”

As I've said before, the one thing Rand's not allowed to do is stand still: every time he does the pressure only mounts until he has to act. Verin at least offers the kindness of spelling it out for him.

The flame consumed fear and passion and was gone almost before he thought to form it. Gone, leaving only emptiness, and shining saidin, sickening, tantalizing, stomach-turning, seductive. He . . . reached for it . . . and it filled him, made him alive. He did not move a muscle, but he felt as if he were quivering with the rush of the One Power into him.

After all this time, I still can't decide if being a channeler would be really awesome or really awful.

“Father!” Rand screamed. Clawing his belt knife from its sheath, he threw himself over the table to help his father, and screamed again as the first sword ran through his chest.

Though of course the Mirror Worlds take from the Many Worlds Theory, we must remember that they're not actually the same. The Many Worlds Theory is a way of resolving one of the fundamental mysteries of quantum mechanics. When not observed, particles don't have discrete locations but probabilites of being here, there, or even over there. These odds are called a "waveform". When observed, the waveform collapses and the particle is only in one of those places. The thing scientists don't get yet is the mechanic of that collapse nor the reason. Many Worlds Theory says "The collapse is an illusion. All of those possibilities exist somewhere but since we can only exist in one place we can only ever observe one possibility. All worlds continue on, none with more value or reality than any other except in that those who exist in only one must favor where they are."

This is not what the Mirror Worlds are. The Pattern of Ages is a specific framework which dictates one reality (T'A'R) reigns supreme above all the others, and that among these the closest reflection (the Prime Reality) is inherently more valid than the increasingly distorted copies.

In Many Worlds theory, one can discuss the relative probabilties of different timelines. One location for a particle might have had a 2/3rds chance of being the real one while the other two were each only a sixth. Amid the Mirror Worlds, there's no such thing. T'A'R and the Prime reality each have a 100% chance of being true and all other worlds have a 0% chance of happening.

That said, the Wheel does seem to think some Mirror Worlds are more plausible than others, and I think Rand's journey is - at least at first - moving in order of descending plausibility. Him dying immediately when the story began is a very "likely" outcome - to some degree more likely than other potential deaths later in the timeline just because in each of those scenarios Rand had a little more experience to keep him going.

There was a year when neither merchants nor peddlers came, and when they returned the next they brought word that Artur Hawkwing’s armies had come back, or their descendants, at least.

It's bizarrely heartening to think that even the Seanchan invasion will completely miss that the Two Rivers exists.

Also note that this world - where Rand is never found by Fain or Moiraine and never leaves as a result - seems next most likely amid the categories.

Egwene grew frightened when the moods were on him, for strange things sometimes happened when he was at his bleakest—lightning storms she had not heard listening to the wind, wildfires in the forest—but she loved him and cared for him and kept him sane, though some muttered that Rand al’Thor was crazy and dangerous.

I wonder what happened to this Egwene that she accepts the Two Rivers life without complaint while Rand is forever ranting about how life should be. I also do think that the haters should remember that this is the "no inciting incident" default Egwene: a caring person who stays with Rand until the end. The pair grow apart because of outside forces, not because Egwene is fundamentally flawed as a person.

Women came, too, shouldering what weapons they could find, marching alongside the men. Some laughed, saying that they had the strange feeling they had done this before.

This is both nice foreshadowing for how the Two Rivers folk will respond to the real Shadowspawn invasion and another hint of the old blood amid the people. It would not be surprising at all if many of them were truly the last of Manetheren reborn.

Tam tried to console Rand when Egwene took sick and died just a week before their wedding.

The nextmost implausible sort of world: no inciting incident and Rand survives his channeling sickness but Egwene does not. Being a slightly mainer character than she is, it tracks that this is more plausible than a world where he dies young while she stays on track to be Wisdom.

Elayne did not look at him, of course; she married a Tairen prince, though she did not seem happy in it.

I'd be upset too in this position. What a strange world this is, that a gal who should be the first Aes Sedai queen in centuries should end up married to anyone from Tear. What the fuck is going on at the White Tower to lead to this? I would guess that the reason Moiraine didn't find Rand is that Siuan isn't Amyrlin and that whoever is in charge instead has run the place into the ground.

Also, assuming "prince" means "son of a High Lord or Lady", if not "High Lord" directly, I wonder which horrible family Elayne is stuck with.

He knew he was mad, and did not care. A wasting sickness came on him, and he did not care about that, either, and neither did anyone else, for word had come that Artur Hawkwing’s armies had returned to reclaim the land.

1. It seems that this Rand is doomed to never be able to complete his character development without the actual plot happening.

2. What's delayed the Seanchan by years if not a decade? How far back does this timeline's divergence have to be to account for all of this?

Many of the people of Caemlyn had fled already, and many counseled the army to retreat further, but Elayne was Queen, now, and vowed she would not leave Caemlyn. She would not look at his ruined face, scarred by his sickness, but he could not leave her, and so what was left of the Queen’s Guards prepared to defend the Queen while her people ran.

I expect that this was foreshadowing Caemlyn's importance in the Last Battle, an importance that Sanderson didn't fully follow up on. Even in this life, Rand finds himself head of an army by Elayne's side leading a desperate last stand.

I have won again, Lews Therin. Flicker flicker flicker flicker flicker flicker flicker flicker flicker flicker flicker flicker flicker flicker flicker flicker flicker flicker flicker flicker flicker flicker flicker flicker flicker flicker.

There's some great details in the paragraph that precedes this bit, much too much to analyze. It says a great deal about the central nature of Rand to the Pattern that he can have so many bizarre outcomes: I expect no one else in the party had anywhere near so much variety in their lives.

We also get confirmation that Rand is Aiel, which is nice, though it's sad that the closest thing to a reference Aviendha gets in this procession is "women he had never seen before".

Of course, Rand's lovers aren't the important part here. Elayne and Min get mentioned but it is Egwene who receives a similar multi-faceted fate. So often she is a central figure in his life; she can't help but be his opposite even when their lives have gone horribly off-script.

And of course, our iconic line. The Dark One wins again and again, but like I already said: none of these worlds have even a 0.00000000000000000000000000000001 percent chance of happening. None of these victories matter in the slightest.

“Does it surprise you that your life might go differently if you made different choices, or different things happened to you? Though I never thought I—Well. The important thing is, we are here. Though not as we hoped.”

I desperately wish I had the slightest idea what Verin had seen in her procession. Were there worlds where she avoided the Black Ajah altogether, or worlds where she happily threw in with them? Maybe a world where she poisoned Cadsuane, or one where she was in Moiraine's place and threw Lanfear through the twisted red door?

You should not have tried to bring us directly here. I don’t know what went wrong—I don’t suppose I ever will—but from the trees, I would say it is well into late autumn.

Presumably it's the nature of those arrow worlds. I've joked about the Ways being akin to the inside of a black hole and suggested that they had strange geometry and I expect this is proof. They did come instantly but it also took four months by another spacetime's reckoning.

“Rand, I’d never tell anyone about—about you. I wouldn’t betray you. You have to believe that!”

It's true! Mat doesn't do that in this reality and none of the other ones count. But I do think he was tempted at points. Not enough to go through with it (and he had no real opportunity to do so), but still. Now though, that door is permanently closed.

The curly-haired youth dropped his hands from his face with a sigh. Red marks scored his forehead and cheeks where his nails had dug in. His yellow eyes hid his thoughts.

Wolf boy here probably had one hell of a time in the pack. Or perhaps he just got out of that weird timeline where he mistakes Laila for a Trolloc.

Rand backed away when she reached for him. “Don’t be foolish,” she told him. “I don’t want your help,” he said quietly. “Or any Aes Sedai help.” Her lips twitched. “As you wish.”

1. I expect that nearly everyone has now forgotten a good deal of the experience thanks to Verin's help, which ironically helps Rand even though he doesn't want it.

2. Verin must really chafe at the sheer ingratitude of this, considering just how much she's doing for the dumb boy.

3. That's the end of our chapter folks! Next time: Remember Egwene? She still exists!

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