#thirty one ruminations

[regretful-prince]

Thirty One Ruminations

Written for @microficmay​ 2022 : [ Draco POV + 50 word prompts ] Prompt 17: Decadent | Dramione | Read on AO3

Draco's mother owls him every day, without fail. Decadent cakes, toffee sweets, but never any note.

Granger's parents don't even have an owl. Yet, every other month, their mail still finds her.

Hidden Wizards in Muggle Postal Services? How embarrassing.

No sweets for Granger.

She devours six page letters, instead.

#dramione fanfiction #dramione #dramione fanfic #dramione fic #Draco Malfoy #Hermione Granger #draco x hermione #hermione x draco #microficmay2022 #harry potter microfic #microfic #regretfulprince #thirty one ruminations

[luvjunie]

— Unforgettable ( 3 )

part one • part two • part three • part four • part five

pairing: e-1610!miles x fem!reader

contains: sooo much fluff, plot progression, a glimpse into reader and miles’ relationship, the moment we’ve all been waiting for 🤭, and another itty bitty plot twist

summary: a bump in with a certain boy at the bodega threatens to ruin your previously perfect afternoon until he offers to fix it. you assumed things would end there, and then you ran into him again. wc: 3,254

a/n: i know y’all ain’t think i forgot about this series!!! but here’s a long chapter as an apology since i made y’all wait so long </3 also did i say an ‘itty bitty’ plot twist? cause i be lying. recap of part two is in small italics!

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“You had her approval as soon as you called her Mrs. Morales.”

Your head tilted in question, eyes panning to the ceiling in thought. “Isn’t that normal? Calling someone’s parent by their last name?”

A comfortable silence settled, just for a moment.

“You’d think so.” A smile curled Miles’ lips, the memory of when he’d introduced the first girl he’d ever liked to his parents flashing into his mind; his interest in tossing the ball paused momentarily as images from the past flooded his thoughts.

Wait… Why was he thinking about her?

. . .

“Miles?”

“Milesss?”

“Huh?” Miles blinked quickly as he brought himself back to the present, his slightly startled gaze landing on your puzzled expression.

“Earth to Morales?” Your tone leaked with a playfulness as you quirked a brow at him. ��Did you hear a word I just said?”

“Nah, sorry,” Miles cleared his throat, then scratched his forehead with a laugh he hoped didn’t sound too awkward. “Just spaced out for a sec. What’d you say?”

“I saiddd,” Laying on your stomach as your thumbs twiddled along the screen of your phone, you sent a quick text before you continued. “—It’s getting kinda late, and if I’m not home in the next thirty minutes my Grandma will alert the entire police force over my absence.” you chuckled, the perpetual buzzes of replies sounding from your phone only furthering your point.

“Oh— Yeah, you’re right. My bad, I didn’t even realize.” Miles stood and grabbed his coat from the hook off his closet door before he turned towards you with a warm grin.

“C’mon, I’ll walk you home.”

—

Miles had been staring at his ceiling ever since he got back home, headphones blasting music over his ears to drown out the inevitable. For what seemed like hours, and for what probably was, he was trapped in an endless rumination he didn’t want to be a part of.

The grace his weekend temporarily granted him had unfortunately come to an end, and before he knew it, there was a knock on his bedroom door that reminded him of the upcoming drive him and his dad had to make back to Visions.

—

“Dude, this is so stupid. My head is about to explode from all this thinking.” Clad in a wifebeater and plaid boxers as he laid on the top bunk, Miles whined out what had only been his hundredth complaint in the span of fifteen minutes.

“And I can’t find my bonnet!”

Miles’ voice was muffled by the fluff of his pillow, the same pillow that was clutched tightly and caged between his arms as an effort to cling onto the last bit of his sanity. Also the same pillow that’d gone flat nearly two months ago. How convenient.

He thought talking Ganke’s ear off about all his feelings would help sort through his thoughts, but it did the exact opposite. Miles’ feelings for you were growing, that was an undeniable fact, so he still couldn’t figure out why after an entire year, Gwen was still on his mind. Why couldn’t he just forget about her?

“I really like this girl, man. Like, really, really like her. Like, Sunflower ain’t got shit on this girl, like her.” Miles blinked, astonished at his own words as he carried on, “Like, I offered to walk her home instead of having my mom drive her, like her—“

“Bro— Bro. I get it,” Ganke interrupted.

“I didn’t even know I could feel like this for someone else!” Pulling himself into a seated position, Miles let his legs dangle over the side of the bed. “I mean, I even let her meet my parents. You know how I am about that!” He exclaimed, arms outstretched as if they would help him present his case better. Ganke, in fact, did not know how he was about that.

“That obviously means I’m over Gwen! Right?”

No answer.

“Right?”

“I dunno, dude! Now you see why I don’t even bother dealing with that kind’a junk. It’s confusing as hell. “ Ganke’s eyes darted from side to side as they tracked the video game on his PC’s monitor, tongue poking at his lip in intense concentration. His half-baked advice to Miles was as much as he could muster without losing focus on his Call of Duty mission. “That’s love for you, man.”

Miles’ eyes went wide and his heart began to race. “Woah woah woah— I ain’t say anything about love!” Technically, he did, just in different words.

With a weighted sigh the controller plunked out of Ganke’s hands and down onto the desk, ‘MISSION FAILED’ flashing in bold onto the screen.

“Alright, look,” Ganke spun around in his chair and glanced up at the top bunk. “If you like this girl as much as you say you do, why don’t you just go for it? What’s stopping you? A girl who’s not even here anymore?” he scoffed. “Quit dwelling on the past and look at what’s right in front of you. You know, someone who’s actually in this universe.”

Miles sat with pursed lips as he stared down at his open palms, treading in the water of his thoughts.

“You know what,” Head raising, he looked to his roommate with a newfound determination. “You’re right, Ganke. Starting tonight, I’m done thinking about the past.” Miles nodded.

“Great, now either let me get back to my mission in peace, or grab a damn controller and help me.”

Ganke was right. Gwen’s gone, and she wasn’t coming back. It’s not even possible.

Miles let the conclusion settle within him as he dug around in the junk drawer for the spare controller.

It’s time for him to move on.

—

As you relaxed on your back in the room you’d been in more times than you could even remember at this point, head idly bopping to an album by Tears for Fears, you thought back to the time before you knew Miles. And even though you hadn’t known him for nearly as long as you’d known yourself— maybe just caught up in the whirlwind of something new and exciting, or him in general— you couldn’t help but feel as if his presence had been missing from your life this entire time.

Spending the day with him had become as normal as breathing to you. His space had become your space (his words), and it rang true as you hummed along to the tune echoing from the record player on his desk.

“Help me to decide. Help me make the most of freedom, and of pleasure. Nothing ever lasts forever…”

The song ‘Everybody Wants to Rule the World’ wrapped you snug in a warm sense of nostalgia, it having been one of your favorites since middle school. And paired with being around your favorite person— you were sure you never wanted to leave this moment. You smiled to yourself at the upside down image you had of Miles as you let your head hang over the side of his bed, the beads on the ends of your braids clinking against his wooden floors when your head tilted with a new found query.

“Miles,”

He hummed, but it wasn’t the kind that sounded as if you’d interrupted him, or as if he were annoyed. It was the kind that let you know he was interested in whatever you wanted to tell him, and that you had his attention even if his eyes weren’t on you.

“Okay, bear with me here. And answer carefully, because this kind of decides the type of person you are and whether I’ll even speak to you afterwards.”

“Wait, what is it?” He quickly looked up at you—upside down you, at least— with concerned eyes and you struggled to hide your grin.

“What color do you think science is?”

“Are you serious?” He deadpanned.

Your brow raise was his answer.

“Green, obviously.”

“Interesting choice. Why green?”

Miles shrugged, “Cause of the environment. Plants are green. And when I think of plants, I think of photosynthesis. Photosynthesis, equals science. Therefore,” pen in hand, he made a ‘viola’ gesture. “Green.”

“Mm,” You scrunched your nose, eyes panning back to the ceiling. “I guess I can see that.”

“And math is blue.” He tacked on.

“Blue!?” You balked, flipping over onto your stomach so his face was right side-up now. “Math? Blue? Are you deadass?”

“As dead as ass can be.” Miles quipped with a snort and continued to scribble away at the page he’d been sketching on for the last half hour.

“History is blue, not math!” You scoffed.

“Alright Y/n, what other color would math be then?” He asked incredulously.

“Red, duh.”

“Red?” He repeated breathlessly. “Why would math be red?”

“Well,” you started, “Math makes me angry. And when I think about anger, I think about the color red, just like everybody else does. And I hate red, just like I hate math. Numbers and letters do not belong together, just like pineapple on pizza. Therefore,” you mimicked his previous gesture to the air with a confident grin. “Red.”

“Pineapple— Numbers… What?” Miles blinked at you with both disbelief and confusion, the corners of his mouth threatening to expose his amusement as they lifted. “That’s it? That’s your grand explanation?”

“Mm-hm.” You hummed proudly, chin perched in both your hands.

Miles shook his head as his smile finally made itself known, dimples and all the moment your lashes batted at him.

“Not gon’ lie to you, that sounded like a whole bunch’a bullshit.” He laughed at your fake offended expression.

One of Miles’ favorite things about you was how you always seemed to ramble about everything, and nothing at the same time. He thought it was adorable.

“Well, the math part I understand, I guess.” he shrugged. “But you can’t possibly hate the color red all that much.”

Your brows furrowed at him, “What makes you say that?”

“Cause,” Miles turned his sketchbook towards you, the drawing he’d been working on this entire time revealed to be a moment he’d caught of you, gazing up at his ceiling just the way you were a moment ago. “Look.”

You nearly felt your heart stop as you took in what was in front of you. All this time while you were in your own world, singing along to whatever song came and went, he’d been focused solely on you. You dragged your eyes up from the paper so they’d meet his, your calves swiftly tucking under your thighs when you rushed to sit up in a straighter position.

“I—Is that me?” You blabbed out before you could think.

“Nah, it’s Boo-Boo the fool.” Miles huffed out a laugh. “Yes, it’s you dummy.”

Gentle strokes of red to the thin paper framed your face and lips, the attention to detail he used brought your eyes to life on the page, and he’d even managed to capture the beads on the bottom of your braids, too.

“How the hell did you do that?”

He shrugged shyly and turned his artwork to face him once more, studying the page as if he hadn’t been doing just that all this time. His heart was beginning to race faster than he’d originally predicted, and he wondered if he should’ve shown you.

“It’s kind of muscle memory at this point.”

Miles heard the words that came out of his own mouth, and you did too, but it was like the both of you comprehended exactly what he’d said at the same time.

“Don’t—“ He tried, but it was too late, you were already gushing, and he was already blushing.

“Awwwww!”

“Please—“

“Milessss!” you teased, ignoring his plea.

“Stop it.” Flustered, he shielded a smile behind his hand and tried to look anywhere else but your face.

“You’re so cute when you blush.”

—

Things were beyond easy with Miles.

The two of you never ran out of things to talk about and he always matched your energy, as if he were the other half of you.

There were no awkward moments, or pressure towards the other about making a move, because deep down you both knew what this was, and that everything would fall into place with time.

It was apparent in the way he looked at you, in how perfectly you fit in his arms when he hugged you goodbye, and how you always relaxed in his embrace when he would hold onto you just a bit longer.

Your first date went perfectly. Well, not really, but that’s what made it even better.

An ominous ‘be ready in 20 mins’ text to your phone and about a half hour later, Miles popped up at your door, pink tulips in hand and a smile big enough to match his signature jacket.

The two of you decided to catch a movie after a short train ride to the theater, and he let you pick. Horror being one of your favorite genres, that’s what you went with, and like everything else that came with you, Miles agreed.

But just thirteen minutes in at one of the simplest jumpscares (if you could even call it one), Miles let out a scream belonging on one of the highest vocal registers your ears had ever heard, and it sent you into such an uncontrollable fit of laughter that you ended up accidentally spilling your fresh popcorn all over the floor.

Miles’ ego wasn’t nearly big enough for him to remain embarrassed once the tears started rolling from your eyes, and eventually, the laughter he tried to stifle made itself known to everyone sitting around you. And when you say everyone, you mean everyone.

It only took two minutes of you guys cackling and snorting before the both of you were asked to leave, and you had no idea how you made it out of the theater with how hard your stomachs were cramping.

—

Sure, the movie hadn’t gone quite as planned, but you didn’t mind and neither did he. As long as you both were in each other’s company, you wouldn’t mind watching paint dry.

The blue hue of the night had long enveloped the city, and as you and Miles sat up on the roof of his apartment, the dimmed fairy lights twinkling in the darkness from where they were strung across the perimeter, you made a mental note to study up on the movie you told your Grandma you were staying out late to see.

You leaned into Miles and rested your head on his shoulder, knees pulling to your chest as you exhaled softly.

“You cold?”

Far from it, actually.

A perpetual breeze prompted your bodies to curl into each other more, though goosebumps and chattering teeth were nowhere in sight, only fingers secretly inching closer and hearts growing fonder.

“I should be asking you, I’m wearing your jacket.” you joked.

“Nah,” he chuckled. “I’m alright.”

The silence was comfortable. You didn’t want to go home just yet and Miles wasn’t ready to say goodbye for the night, so you stayed.

This had become a new norm for the two of you, so much so that this was pretty much how all your hangouts ended. You’d stay just a little longer, and then he’d take you home. You couldn’t put your finger on it, but for some weird reason you always felt much safer when you were with Miles, like he’d be able to protect you if anything were to happen when the two of you were together.

“Y/n?”

“Hm?”

“Have you ever been in love before?”

Miles’ voice was quiet, nearly drowned out from the lively sounds of the city around you. You were surprised you even heard it.

You swallowed, and it took so much effort to form your lips around the simple word you answered with. “W-what?”

He cleared his throat as his posture straightened slightly. “Like, do you know what love is? Is what I mean...” He clarified quickly, mentally cursing himself for how badly he worded things, even if it’s what he meant. He didn’t even know if you felt the same.

You lifted your head from his shoulder, prompting his own to turn towards you, but you didn’t meet his eyes. You settled for toying with the sleeve of his jacket as your heart began to thrum a little faster.

Nibbling at the inside of your lip, you inhaled quietly before answering. “When they’re the first person your mind thinks of when you hear the word ‘love’. Or maybe when the thought of them gets you out of bed in the morning instead of your alarm clock. You know when you know, basically. That’s what I was taught, and I think it checks out.” you glanced over at him, and he felt like time stopped when your eyes locked.

“Do you?” you asked.

“H-Huh?” Miles was enthralled with how pretty you looked, and how your features were perfectly illuminated by the gentle glow of the city lights, so much so that he could hardly think straight.

Rolling your eyes and suppressing a giggle, you shook your head at him. “—Do you know what love is, dummy.”

“Not exactly— uh, I don’t think so, no.” Miles’ jaw tensed and his gaze met yours once more. The twinkle in your eyes temporarily dimming due to the fear of this all being in your head.

“Oh.” you murmured.

“But I think I know what it feels like.” He said softly.

“Really?”

Lips parting slightly for a shaky breath to pass, Miles nodded. “Positive.”

Your eyes fell down to his lips almost immediately, then lifted back up to see that his had done the same to yours.

“Well… What does it feel like?”

The question left your mouth long before you could’ve thought to stop it, yet regret was the last thing you felt. What you were feeling was something entirely different.

Your faces grew closer until your noses brushed against each others, a second spared as a chance for either of you to bail on what you both knew was bound to happen in a matter of time.

He leaned in and you let him— let your arms curl around his neck and his around your waist so your lips could meet faster. Let your lips move against each other’s because it felt right, because that’s what you knew love to be. Letting something happen because it felt right.

He felt right.

Miles pulled away, but barely, his breath warm against your lips. “Come to my parent’s party tomorrow?” He blurted.

Hands holding the back of his neck, you blinked yourself out of your daze, brows furrowed. “What?”

“My dad, they’re making him police captain. We’re celebrating tomorrow, here, and I want you to come.” Miles licked his lips. “Well I— I was gonna invite you anyway. But now I really want you to come. And I wanted you to come before this happened, obviously—“

“I’d love to.” You smiled, and let him pull you back into him the second you’d given your answer.

—

Miles remembered what it was like to be so head over heels in love with someone that it consumed him entirely. How it corrupted his days and fogged his mind with nothing but the thought of them, and he could feel himself slipping back into it again, but this time, with you. And if he were being honest, it kind of scared him, how quickly you’d claimed his heart.

But what he did know was that you liked him, and he liked you. He’ll admit, he didn’t expect his feelings for you to develop as fast as they did, for them to hit him as hard as they had. But he was past that now. Tomorrow was going to be special, and not just for his family, but for the two of you. He was finally going to take the leap he’d been too scared to make before tonight.

You were the perfect girl, that he was sure of. And who’d be dumb enough to not accept perfect when it was right in front of them?

He wanted this. He wanted you.

But any chance for another sensical thought was interrupted when the impossible happened.

‘Impossible’, being the multi-layered hexagonal portal that suddenly opened up on his ceiling, and the blonde-haired, gap-toothed girl he thought he’d never see again, appearing with it.

Bright and beaming down at him with a heart-halting grin, Miles felt his stomach drop as soon as she spoke.

“Miles!”

Shit.

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#junie’s works ᥫ᭡ #across the spiderverse fanfiction #miles morales x reader #miles morales fluff #miles morales fanfiction #miles morales fic #miles morales x you #earth 1610 miles x you #earth 1610 miles x reader #miles morales x black reader #miles morales x black!reader #earth 1610 miles morales x reader #1610 miles x reader

[potatomountain]

CIY- CH 10

Chapter Ten

📍pairing: detective ateez ot8 x detective afab reader 📍word count: 3.1k 📍network: @pirateeznet 📍Warnings: tbd 📍Beta readers (and sole motivation): @flurrys-creativity , @candypop1611 , @yourfatherlucifer, @yessa-vie and edited by the amazing: @daesukiii

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There was a good chance you overdid it at the shooting range yesterday, if your sore muscles and oversleeping were anything to go by. The fact you dismissed all of your alarms at different times, without even attempting to get out of bed, was also a good indicator.

When you had realized you were late for work, the momentary panic was quickly chased away by the realization they probably weren’t even aware of when you got there so why worry about being on time? That mindset had you falling right back to sleep, not even the idea of San worrying about you could keep the sleep at bay.

Your phone going off startled you awake, knocking it onto the floor in the process and leaving you scrambling for it out of habit. You didn’t even check caller ID, hitting answer and expecting an emergency because why else would you be getting a call? After grumbling out your name, you froze up at the familiar voice on the other side. “Ah so you’re not dead?” Your nose scrunched up as you flung your feet over the side of the bed. “No Yunho, I’m not dead. Is there a reason you have my number and are calling me?” You scoffed out, taking one glance at your clock on your desk and wincing. Oh, it was that late? “I’ve been tasked with finding out why our beautiful Goddess hasn’t arrived at work yet despite it being an hour after her usual time and no notification was given. Considering how prideful you are of your job, I assumed death was the only reason to miss out.” He easily drawled over other muffled voices in the background, which did wonders for your imagination. It even overlooked his heavy sarcasm that might normally be a reason to bite back.

You spent several hours shooting targets to get these damned curious thoughts out of your head and apparently it was all for naught. Not like you could hear what was being said, but with all their secrecy, you could only blame it on one secret you now knew. “Just overslept, and didn’t think anyone would miss me enough that an hour would matter.” While that was true, an hour did have your panic spiking a little bit.

It was very unlike you to be this late, and the reason just had shame bubbling in your gut. Like hell you would tell Yunho that of course, trying to play it off as nonchalantly as you could. 

“Aw, already tired of us? Every second counts, especially if you want to do field work so how about you get that cute ass out of bed and down here to the Precinct? You have work to do.” “Yunho you could say it nicely!” This time you heard the other voice, trying to pinpoint who. Yunho scoffed, pulling away from the phone a bit. “If you wanted it said nicely you could’ve called, Vice. It’s done so stop yapping.” “May I remind you that you insi-” Seonghwa’s voice was cut off as the call was dropped, leaving you a bit confused and plenty awake now.

The one thing that really stuck from that phone call was that, to an extent, your presence was noticed, and your absence was cause of enough concern that Yunho called you.

Whatever emotions were going to blossom from that, were derailed when you noticed many many notifications on your phone: all from the S.K Unit.

Right, your probation was up regarding them now. That was… you weren’t sure how to feel about it, but being late on time already you ignored the messages and started getting ready. Thirty minutes later and you were stepping into the precinct, unsure of what to expect. The lack of bodies around when you walked in was a tad disappointing, which you wouldn’t ruminate on, but finding a coffee and lunch on your desk from the deli was a nice surprise.

Since you were late- was left on a note in handwriting you didn’t recognize, but of course you haven't seen any of theirs enough to tell. San would be the most likely option, since he was the only one who knew your order, but you couldn’t put it past any of them with their ability to surprise you. Either way, you smiled down at the drink, just as you liked it, and didn’t care who it was from.

You sat down to enjoy your gift just as the phone on the desk beeped, line 3 flashing red. Right, probably should have let them know you arrived. “Yeah I’m here Seonghwa, sorry about that.” You called out after hitting the button to connect.

“We thought we heard the door. Glad you made it safely.” “Mhmm. What would you have me do? Captain mentioned field work but said it would take a few days?” Better to keep the conversation on work. Keep it on work.

Seonghwa chuckled on the other side, humming a bit in thought. “Wooyoung is taking care of San’s injuries so that will take a few days anyways. I suppose we can test your undercover skills, would you be up for that? I can talk to the Captain about the suggestion, we can get back to you by the end of the day. Why don’t you get more familiar with the other gangs in the meantime, we have a new board set up for you back here.”

One surprise after another, it was really throwing you for a loop. “Oh uh, sure. I’ll head back there after I eat then?”

“Take your time.” The line went dead afterwards, leaving you a bit lost.

“Huh… are they sucking up to me? This is… weird.” Mumbling to yourself, you shrugged it off after a moment and enjoyed your free meal and drink, checking the notifications finally from S.K. You only really looked at the names, not ready to read what they had to say.

Most were from Jisung and Felix, quite a bit from Changbin and a few from the two youngest as well. Hyunjin’s chat was the only one you read, which consisted of a miniature spiel about a cute guy he saw at the gym this ‘fine morning’ that could spice up your lack of a sex life. You scoffed, sending him a few choice emojis to tell him to kindly fuck off before finishing up your meal.

You couldn’t help but notice not a single message or call or anything from Chan or Minho, and it somewhat hurt. Did you really expect them to apologize though?

If they did, would they mean it?

Sighing, you grabbed your coffee and headed towards the back. No use worrying over those two, not when you just wanted to move on and do your job.

“Ah there she is, definitely not dead.” Yunho startled you when you stepped into the back, a smirk on his features as he leaned back against his desk. “Come to join the party?” Rolling your eyes, you ignored him and instead turned your attention to the board. It was definitely set up differently, several different faces and gangs by the looks of it. “What’s this?” “This is how downtown is run.” Mingi stood before the board, tacking up a picture before stepping back. “Downtown is where a majority of gang activity goes on. It’s mostly prostitution, illegal gambling rings and brothels, drug rings. It’s considered neutral territory despite being part of the Golden Circle and heavily run by the Pink Boas- but they’ll let anyone operate there for a fee. Most independent players will operate there as well.” “Like Hwon Taejin?” You sought out his picture instantly, jaw clenched as your eyes landed on the familiar face that had your blood boiling.

Mingi and Yunho shared a look before Mingi stood in your way. “Yes, but that’s not the point.” He narrowed his eyes on you while Yunho wouldn’t even look your way now. What the hell had suddenly gotten under their skin? Sure you expected hostility but this felt different. “Oookay, then continue.” Not your problem, that's what you told yourself, glancing back at the board. 

“The point is, that downtown is where all the action happens. As ‘neutral’ ground, any deals or talks between gangs will happen here. Drops of product, money, but the most important is that fights don’t happen downtown, meaning less likely to get killed accidentally.” Yunho offered, a chip in his tone that was hard to miss at the end.

They couldn’t actually be worried you would get yourself killed? Is that where they were going with this? “So what I’m hearing is, this is the area I am most likely going to be in the field. Plenty of opportunities and information to pick up without my head getting blown to bits or choking on poison?” They both nodded solemnly. “New players are always watched carefully by the Pink Boas, and they don’t have to take you out on their turf. So it will also be a test to see how well you can maintain undercover. Course, no idea what you’ll be doing in the field, could just be doing stakeouts like Captain does.” You narrowed your eyes on Yunho as he shrugged, but he still wouldn’t meet your eyes.

Mingi also hadn’t insulted you once since you got here. Something felt off.

“What the fuck is it? What did I do this time or not do? What did you fuckers do?”

Both of them paused as you cocked your hip, hand nestling there with coffee in the other. “Uh, nothing?” “Exactly! No insults and you’re acting like a sad kicked puppy for fucks sake-” You jerked your chin at Mingi before pointing at Yunho. “And you were so snarky on the phone and when I walked in and now you’re like a ball of anxiety or some shit. The desk is going to break if you grip it any harder.”

Once more the two shared a look, Yunho’s grip relaxing on the edge of the desk so his veins weren’t popping out- which you totally hadn’t noticed multiple times- and Mingi’s cocky grin was back. But neither could give you an answer before Yeosang stepped in, calling your name. Great, another ass to deal with. “We were given orders to give you a bit of a break from our… abrasiveness. And I have some things to upload to your laptop, may I?” He held up a flash drive, his sculpted face impassive of any emotion. You couldn’t tell if he was good at hiding it or just didn’t have much emotion. Annoyance he had shown plenty of, is this what was left under it?

It felt… odd. You didn’t like it. “Yeah, I’ll give these two some time to, I don’t know, pull the sticks out of each other’s ass? Suddenly being nice to me? No thanks.” You shivered at the thought, making your way towards the hall to your desk. The laughter from the two that were left behind eased a knot in your chest you didn’t know was there.

“What do you need to upload?” Glancing back at Yeosang, you tried once more to get a read on him. A vibe or something, but he resembled a walking doll almost.

He opened his mouth to reply, eyes moving past yours and brows pushing together. You turned to see what had gotten his attention, just to visibly stiffen.

“Hey there Trouble.”

“Don’t even start.” You pointed your finger at him, hoping he didn’t notice the sudden tremble. “You don’t get to call me that any more, Chan.”

Really, what right did he have to walk into your new workplace as if he was here for a friendly visit or lunch? As if he wasn’t the reason you were here in the first place. As if he hadn’t turned his back on you.

He didn’t need to come into your new space, looking fine in his jeans and tight tee, watching you with that smile of his that said “I’m here” as if to take on all your problems for you. There was no need for him to remind you of your feelings… the same feelings you had hoped you had smashed in the last month.

“Who’s this?” Yeosang stepped around you, clearly a bit annoyed that their space was being trespassed on by someone unfamiliar. “My old unit Chief. Who was just leaving.” You snarled out, crossing your arms over your chest. “You can just upload whatever you need to Yeosang, don’t pay him any mind.” Chan’s smile faltered, shoving his hands into his pocket. “I was worried about you tr- sorry, won’t say it again.” He chuckled nervously when you hardened your glare. “I know you weren’t happy about this-” “Who would be happy that they got kicked off their team? Seriously?” You took a step closer. “You didn’t want me there Chan, and I don’t want you here. So fucking leave.” Chan didn’t back down, lifting his chin a bit as he pursed his lips in thought. “Can I… Can I at least apologize?” You scoffed, rolling your eyes as you shook your head. “I don’t want to hear it. You made your choice Chan, just fucking live with it.”

When he called your name out in a plea, taking a step closer, you would have preferred “Trouble” instead. “Please let me explain, I didn’t want to hurt you.” He closed the distance enough to reach for you, just for you to slap his hand away. “I think she told you to leave.” Yeosang’s voice rang out behind you before you could tell Chan off yet again. “And frankly speaking, we don’t allow anyone else here in the Precinct unless you clear it with our Captain or Vice. I don’t think you did, so I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”

Chan looked between you two, shoulder’s slumping in defeat. “Alright. I’ll talk to you another time.” Before you could make a quip back, he was walking out the door.

Your head pounded from the sudden increase in stress, hand going to your temple as you turned to Yeosang. “Was that true? The Vice or Captain needs to give permission for visitors?” Yeosang steeled his expression the moment you turned back, gently pushing your open laptop towards you. “Yes. Considering our work, we can’t just let anyone walk in. Especially other cops. Your pin?” It was comforting to hear, typing in your password quickly before pushing it back towards him. “That’s… reassuring. I didn’t think any of them would bother me here.” “Would… would you prefer they not?”

Shrugging, you leaned against the desk while he plugged in the flashdrive, dozens of screens popping up as Yeosang got to work. When you didn’t answer right away, he glanced at you. “Oh well, definitely not him. There’s one or two I don’t think I’d mind- wait no, that’s just a bad combination waiting to happen.” You grimaced, thinking about what would happen should Hyunjin come here or the two worrywarts. The conversation would get far too sexual or the poor beans would get too worried about you and most likely plan, very poorly, your kidnapping away from this unit.

Changbin could be the only one you saw getting along well enough but chances of him keeping quiet to the others? Unlikely.

Yeosang nodded as if you had just given him vital information, odd but somewhat endearing of him. “I see. I’ll let Seonghwa know.” His fingers flew across the keyboard, focused on whatever he was doing. “Can you… not? Or at least avoid the details. I don’t like how much you all know of me and my unit already. My beef with Chan I would like to keep on the downlow.” “What makes you think I would keep it as such?” Yeosang asked, lacking any sort of condescension or malice, just pure curiosity in his voice.

You shrugged, standing back up. “You didn’t like it when I dug into you all when I first got here, so privacy is important to you. And whether it’s personal morals or because you were told to play nice, I don’t think you are going to go around sharing my business.”

He paused what he was doing, turning to you confused. “You have reason to believe I would though?” “No, I don’t.” You sighed, leaning back down. “Just because you don’t like me or haven’t been the nicest doesn’t mean you would purposely exploit sensitive information about me. You can still have morals even as an asshole. Anyways, what are you doing? I can’t follow along with any of this.” Yeosang let his head fall forward a bit so his hair blocked his eyes from your sight, his fingers moving once more. “It’s a program I built that only we here at A.Z use. Takes a bit to install, connect to our servers here. I'm still working on the mobile version, but this has to be installed with a copy of the program. If anyone without access to the program tries to get in through one of you, the program will wipe itself clean and the connection.” “That’s… a bit scary of a protection measure.” You mumbled out, but also quite impressed. “These gangs have access to multimillion dollar security companies and tech, better not to risk them trying to get our information. We also have different levels of information. Right now, you are getting access to level one, which is a bit more detailed than what you already had on the Green Vipers. We’ll move you up if you gain a successful cover,” he explained, moving a few things around and code flashing across the screen. It took you a moment to realize what he meant, what this all meant. “Is this… I thought I still had a trial run?” Your voice was soft, afraid to speak any louder as if it would scare off the possibility.

Yeosang paused once more, hunching further over the computer. “Well uh, I- that’s not for me to…”

“Welcome to the team, Firecracker. Believe it or not, we are happy to have you.” Hongjoong called out, drawing your attention to the hall, a smirk on his face. “He means on the team. Happy to have you on the team.” Seonghwa sighed behind him. “Well that too.” “Joong- is it really a good time to try and flirt?” “It’s always a good time. Especially now that she knows what we do around here- oh? Is it that funny?” Hongjoong broke off, brow lifted as laughter had bubbled out of you.

“It’s just- mmm, I think I’m a bit happy to be here. When ya’ll stop trying to act so damn friendly fake.” Hongjoong and Seonghwa shared a look before the Captain matched your very real smile. “I knew you liked the bickering. Ready for your first mission briefing?”

You practically bounced up straight. “Yes, Captain, ready.”

Taglist (form): @mingsolo | @wowie-hockey | @crispybaguettes | @tiny-apocalypse | @philijack | @lelaleleb | @idfkeddieishot | @isiloiale | @vannabanana1995  | @piratequeen-queenofgames | @starstruckforyou | @minheeskitten | @amphiroxx  | @cloudysannie | @sugarnspice630 | @hongjoongswifefr | @sanhwalvr | @plutoneu |  @sousydive |  @fatalt | @bts-army380 | @iwishiwasrichasfuck | @bitchwhytho | @st4rhwa | @thesafecafe

Taglist will be continued in a reblog!!

#pirateteez #ciy #case its you #ateez #ateez fanfic #ateez x reader #ateez ot8 #ateez yeosang #ateez hongjoong #ateez yunho #ateez seonghwa #ateez mingi #ateez wooyoung #ateez fanfiction #ateez au #ateez jongho #ateez san #ateez x y/n #ateez x you #atz hongjoong #poly ateez x reader #san ateez #detective ateez #ateez detective au #ateez mafia au

[flowery-laser-blasts]

It's the year 2023 and so much has changed...

Kim Possible and Ron Stoppable-Possible, now in their mid-thirties, work alongside Global Justice with their own specialized team (including Wade, Felix, and Jim & Tim). As for Dr. Drakken and Shego... After helping prevent the invasion of the Warlordians, Dr. Drakken and Shego were pardoned from almost all of their prior crimes against the safety of the world and eventually became, in their own words, 'neutral'. At times, they even aid Team Possible with intel, after all; who knows more about how villains do than ex-villains?

Dr. Drakken started working on his own world-improving inventions because he realized that 'positive' recognition from the world feels better than being despised by everyone, and this way he can rub it even more into James Possible's face... Shego became an elite mercenary/hitwoman after tutoring the best of the best agents of Global Justice for 5 years -it was part of her 'community service'- She now works separately from everyone, but always comes back home before Drakken finishes making dinner.

One day, Dr. Drakken thought of a hypothesis: if television programs are just a glimpse into an alternative reality and aliens exist with their ultra-advanced technology, then who says that alternative timelines aren't real? "Maybe we could learn from that to improve ours!"

He worked tirelessly on trying to find out if alternative universes or timelines exist, maybe ones where he and Shego were always good and Possible and Stoppable were the baddies, imagine!

But then he found something...

Dr. Drakken found out that there was a timeline that lined up exactly with the one they were in, except something was drastically different. It was stuck in some kind of purgatory; stuck in place but also as if looping over and over again. Separate from everything surrounding it but at the same time trying to free itself from its slumbering state.

Drakken looked into it, fascinated that this timeline could co-exist with theirs but at the same time not. What changed? Then it hit him.

"Tempus Simia... that Monkey plan-- It actually happened!?" Dr. Drakken sometimes ruminated on the weird feelings he had on the day the trio, and Shego, decided to abruptly give up on that time-traveling plan. None of them ever said or mentioned anything about it to one another, especially Monkey Fist... he became different. Drakken wished he could ask him about what happened that day, but alas the man became a supernaturally petrified lawn ornament.

"Did Monkey Fist know something about that statue that we didn't? Did the plan work? Is that what that timeline is?" Drakken became ansty, he needed to know what happened. Not that he was going to return to being evil, no-no, this was purely scientific, and well- curiosity took the upper hand. Perhaps he was a fair ruler in this 'time capsule'.

After months and months of calculations and testing, he managed to do it; Drakken succeeded in making a portal device that could connect and stabilize the broken timeline to ours. Shego wasn't entirely sure about this plan but decided to stick around to ensure the man wouldn't end up killing himself and everyone on the planet in some freak accident.

After flipping the switches and turning on the safety protocols, the machine started producing a whirling sound. No sooner did a small portal form, giving them a glimpse of the dystopian world of the Supreme One. "Wow, that-- is that me?" Shego pointed at a fallen statue. "Sheesh, who would've thought the sidekick could ever take over the world, right Drew?" Shego teasingly jabbed his arm, making Drakken roll his eyes in response. "Shego, dumpling, darling love of my life, I've apologized thousands of times already, can you finally let it go?!" He received a snicker in response, "I guess not, nevertheless, let me concentra--!" A loud bang snapped the two out of their banter, "Dr. D? What was that?!" Shego instinctively lit her hands as the room turned dark for a moment, the whirling sounds of the portal device intensified, and no sooner bright red warning signs started flashing while a deafening alarm went off around them. Shego looked at Drakken, who was frantically trying to close the portal. "Something's trying to push its way into here! I-- I haven't been able to properly secure that part yet-- Shego!" Drakken's face paled as he looked back in the direction of the portal.

"The Supreme One, actually." An icy chill went through Shego's spine as she heard her own voice coming from directly behind her. "I already thought, what took you so long Doc? It's not fun being stuck in time; ain' I right, Dr. D?" Both Shego and Drakken watched in disbelieve at the arrival of the Supreme One's sidekick, who within seconds hurled himself at the machinery, destroying most of it and breaking off the connection to the fractured timeline.

Drakken tried to jump in and save what was left by making his flowers restrain the brute, but the man ripped the foliage away from him as if it were nothing. The sidekick threw Drakken aside and blocked Shego from trying to get to him, holding her in a lock.

The supreme one stepped closer and looked at her restrained self.

"Now that botany-boy is taken care of... tell us, Shego: Where is Kimmie?"

---

I hope you guys like my little sequel idea for 'A Sitch in Time'. I absolutely love this TV movie!! I'm not much of a writer but it was so much fun imagining this story while drawing!! As for the future designs of everyone: - Kim's outfit is based on Stephen Silver's older Kim design. - Ron now has a utility belt that actually works and gloves that can help him control his Mystical Monkey Powers. - Shego's outfit stayed relatively the same with some adjustments, why change what works right? - Dr. Drakken (now Professor Lipsky) traded his blue lab coat for a white one... dress codes apply at his shared workplace, but he still wears a blue dress shirt underneath it. Aside from that his eyes aren't as good as they used to be and his contact lenses were out of the question since they tampered with the eye-scanning-security-device (he ended up being left outside of the lab for 3 hours because of it), so now he just wears glasses.

I also wanted to include Rufus in the story; Now a senior rodent, Rufus spends his retirement days around the lab assisting Drakken with various experiments and small talk while Kim and Ron are on missions. Hope you enjoyed both the drawing and the mini fanfic!!

#kim possible: a tear in time #20 year anniversary of sitch in time #kim possible 20 year anniversary #kim possible so the drama #kimpossible #kim possible #dr drakken #shego #drakken #drdrakken #drakken x shego #drakgo #shegoxdrakken #dr. drakken #ron stoppable #ronstoppable #rufus the naked molerat #Rufus #shego supreme one #supreme one shego #shego the supreme one #tempes simian

[morallyinept]

Summary: Joel Miller comes back into your life unexpectedly after a gap of thirty years, and stirs up all kinds of memories and longing. Now, as you're stationed on an outpost for five days alone with the man you stupidly let go of all those years ago, you have a chance to confront him about your past life together and all the things you wished you’d said and done.

But Joel’s different now, and you know you need to tread carefully. Joel Miller is not the same man you once knew in another life.

A slow burn romance set in the post apocalyptic world, approx. twenty or so years after the initial Cordyceps outbreak.

Pairing: Post-Outbreak Joel Miller x MatureF!Reader (No name or physical description of reader. However reader is of a similar age range as Joel; in her late forties/early fifties. Joel is slightly older at 56.)

Chapter Word Count: 3.4k

Series Masterlist

☝🏻See Series Masterlist for full smut warnings & triggers in this story. Chapters that contain smut or triggers will be highlighted in the chapter notes below. 👇🏻

Chapter notes: Descriptions of an animal kill. You and Joel start to open up to one another. Brief mentions of smut. Tiny. 🤏🏻

☝🏻Some of the tags aren't working, so please ensure you're following me and turn on notifs so you don't miss an update on this story.

Enjoy! 🖤

Previous Chapter

He comes up behind you, running his nose and fingers through your hair entwining it; curling it and breathing you in deeply.

A soft hum escapes him and it sets your skin alight, immolating you before him. The fire consumes all of you, head to toe. After all this time, he can still do this to your body. 

You're here. You say softly.

Your words are left undecided whether they lean into astonishment or ruminate in the neighbourhoods of grief.

I never left, darlin’. Not really. He reassures you.

You feel his hand; that large formidable palm, emanating an intense heat of his own from the centre of it, across your collarbone where it rests over the ebb of your quickening heartbeat.

I was always in here… He presses his lips to the side of your throat.

Joel...

You stir in the cot; the itchy blanket warming your skin. Unconscious thoughts of him are interrupting your circadian rhythm, knives thrown at a target.

The dream clouds your eyes opaque, dissipating slowly where Joel is still in love with you and anything is possible. Flesh eating monsters don't exist here. Nothing can get you, and as you come to, you remember where you are, bleakly. 

You remember that it’s not a dream, even though Joel is really here with you in this plane again. You’re not sure what outcome is worse; to reside in a dream where Joel wants you that isn't real, or to live in a horrific reality where he’s flesh and blood real, but doesn’t want you.

Both options come with the same extra-large serving of pain drowning in grease slopping over the side of your plate. 

As you open your eyes fully, the shack is dark, save for the sliver of pale light in the corner; the moon shining in from the night and illuminating the side of Joel’s face from the cut out.

A small candle flickers dully on the table in front of him that barely glows, although creates shadows around the wooden beams. 

Joel’s in the wicker chair reading. You try to be still. Try not to alert him that you’re awake and just watch him. 

He looks ethereal; at peace as he looks down into the pages, losing himself inside a make believe world that pulls him from this terrible one for a much coveted reprieve.

He licks the tip of his stubby right thumb as he turns the top of the page delicately; his eyes moving across words and painting images in his head.

After a while, a small smile tugs at the corner of his lips and he turns another page. You just observe, from the confines of the stifling, musty blanket as Joel lives and exists in another world, and you couldn't be more elated to see him thrive and flourish there.

Even if it’s without you. 

“How long ya gon’ keep starin’?” Joel asks aloud, as he turns the page, and you smile as you’ve been rumbled.

Unsure exactly how he knows. But then he used to do that, knew when you were faking being asleep whilst he was curled around you. You’d hear him tell you through a silk whisper that blew hot and heavy in your ear, that he knew you were awake, as he slipped his hand down the front of your panties and made you moan his name as he wrote it on your clit with a slick coated finger.

“What are you reading?” You ask, feeling the sweat clammy on your neck and the throbbing ache register between your legs.

Joel holds up the book and it’s an old copy of Little Women with a heavily creased spine.  

“Interesting choice.” You muse. 

“I’ve read all the books here over. Just passin’ the time.” He concludes. He still continues to read as you sit up and stretch.

“Sure you have,” you smirk, pushing the blanket off and grateful for the reprieve. 

"S'a classic. Shut up."

"Is it okay to have the candle burning? You said no light." You ask after watching it dance inside it's waxy rim. You can still see it's gloaming orb when you close your eyes; a fading orange dot sizzling behind them.

"Ain't got bionic eyes to read in the dark yet," he retorts and you smirk. "S'fine."

You glance over to the clocks and see that it’s almost three AM. “You should’ve woken me, I slept far too long.”

“Ya looked like ya needed it,” Joel shrugs. His eyes dart to yours from over the book. Two dark, glass marbles in the tiny light.

“Well, I’m up now. Get some rest, I’ll take over,” you say standing. Your back cracks and you groan as it eases.

After a beat, Joel tosses the book on the table. He passes you and you sink into the wicker chair, warmed from his body heat, yawning.

You glance out at the vacant valley through the cut out; the moonlight illuminating the dips and rolls of the hills and it’s peaceful, almost serene. 

You look up at the craters on the moon and wonder for a moment if Kelper's looking up at the sky right now too.

Joel rolls over to face the wall in the cot. He leaves the blanket off and keeps his boots on.

He can smell you on the pillow; the faint dying scents of your sleep, your warmth caressing the side of his face.

He closes his eyes and tries to remember what you feel like, what you used to feel like in that small ebb of time when you were his.

Before his weak, traitorous hands let you go. 

He’d heard you in your sleep. A small snuffle escaping from your nose and then a gentle moan that rolled up from the bottom of your vocal chords to taunt him as you dreamt.

It reminded him of a sound that you would make for him in another life. 

Sitting in that damn wicker chair, across the room from you, which felt like miles in distance, he was forced to listen to that beguiling melody as it flowed from your lips to taunt him. He was unable to do anything about it, leaving him reeling.

Left the maddening thoughts of getting into the damn cot with you, and wrapping you up in his arms and squeezing you so tightly, gasping for breath and dying at his feet. 

But Joel knows he's a coward underneath, spent of conviction. He knows you'd probably push him away; he would. It's been too long for him to dwell in the territory of possible desirability.

He's not the same young, athletic man he once was when you knew him. Is he even desirable to you now, with his shot to shit knee that creaks and cracks, and a back that won't co-operate most of the time?

He's gotten old, and even in the world before he was constantly fighting to stay alive, he might've been in worse shape. He surmises that he probably would've had a heart attack by now, despite Sarah berating him constantly to eat better.

He remembered you then; the both of you back then. How brash and confident you were. How you made him confident.

Now, Joel is a just husk of a man, empty. Lost. It's like he was a person back then that he never knew, not truly.

What could he possibly offer you now?

He grounds down on his teeth, squeezing his eyes shut, willing with all his might that you will leave the muddy bog-soaked ground of his mind, let him have some fucking respite.

In the chair, you glance over at Joel, his broad back presented to you clothed in dark green plaid; his arms folded and his knees bent. He still sleeps the same, you muse.

Except you're not draped over him, absorbing the undulating warmth you know he emits.

Your eyes wander over the soft curve of his ass swathed in tight denim that’s frayed in places around the pocket on his cheek, and you remember all the times you’d squeezed it. Playfully when he’d embrace you, forcefully when he’d fuck you. You’d grab onto it, wanting him deeper inside you as you came; both of you panting, clawing, never getting enough. 

Come for me, darlin'. God, I wanna fuckin' feel ya come...

It was never enough and so fleeting. You were young, foolish. You took it all for granted that it would last forever. The bittersweetness of it all cuts sharp across your tongue.

You clench your thighs together; a deep, laboured breath flows out of you that you don't know Joel can hear. 

It makes his heartbeat quicken and he adjusts his head lightly on the pillow.

He wishes he was lying on his left side, so he could block your tempting sounds out with the deafening din that pulses in his right ear constantly now. But if he was, he knows he'd not be able to resist peeping at you, the same way you did with him.

You reach forward, picking up the book and open it. Figuring you may as well simply pass the time too. 

Joel jolts in the cot; a shunt of his body stirs him awake out of a pitch black, dreamless sleep. His forehead bumps against the wooden wall, pulling him out of the viscous oil of it. 

Realising what has happened, he turns over his shoulder and sees that you're not in the wicker chair to mock him. He knows you would.

Although that relief is swallowed up by immediate concern as he hears a gunshot pelt from outside. 

Flying up out of the cot, he notices the rifle is missing off the stand. Rushing to the window, he can see you a little ways down the track as he peers through the cut out. 

“Fuck!” He mutters and takes off out the door. It clatters on its hinges behind him. 

You aim the rifle and fire, smirking triumphantly when you fatally hit the buck on your first shot.

The kickback into your shoulder throbs, but it’ll be worth the bruise when you sink your teeth into the tender meat later; your mouth waters thinking about it. 

You’d spotted it moving in the silence of the early morning light as you stared out the window watching the night morph into the inky dawn hues. The only sound to accompany you was the occasional snuffle from Joel’s nose as he slept.

It was a small tan dot, moving furtively in the underbrush, and as you sat forward in the chair, the oncoming light making your vision clearer, you realised it was a buck and not a wayward infected coming to ambush you. 

It was instinct, fuelled by years of intense hunger that knew no bounds, that had you up out of the chair chasing this opportunity like dark voodoo had entranced you. It was too good to miss; silently removing the rifle from the stand, and creeping out the door so as not to rouse Joel. 

Kelper would be proud, he taught you well. You know your way around a gun and the sticky, bloodied bones of an animal carcass with your eyes shut. Such are the only talents or skills needed in this world now. 

You begin striding over to the lifeless buck, feeling mighty pleased with yourself, when you hear your name being hollered like thunder cracking across the sky.

You turn toward the fracas. Joel is tearing down the hill towards you, his fists clenched and looking frantic.

“Ya fuckin’ crazy?!” He hisses, trying to contain the loudness of his voice around the valley, and failing somewhat at it. 

“Well, good morning to you too-” You start, but are cut off by a very red-faced and pissed off Joel.

“What the fuck d’ya think ya doin?” He snatches the rifle from you, seething.

You can only watch as he tears it from your hand. “Joel-”

“Firing a fuckin’ gun out here, ya wanna let any infected know we're sittin’ waiting’ for em?!” 

Oh shit.

You realise your mistake immediately as the fury on Joel’s face strips you of your blood making you cold. His nostrils flare, his mouth is a hard, thin line under his grey flecked moustache. His chest heaves like he’s about to keel over. 

“Fuck. I’m sorry, shit. I didn’t think,” you say, feeling small as he towers over you. 

“What'd I tell ya, hmm? We gotta trust one another out here. Ya get a stupid fuckin’ idea, ya run it by me first!” The cords in his neck visibly strain as he tries to quell his anger bubbling through him. It makes him shake, you notice.

You cross your arms and sigh. Despite his anger, the castigation from him is starting to fray your own temper. “You’re right, I fucked up, Joel. I’m sorry. Just, calm down.”

“Jesus,” he mutters, shaking his head fast and running his hands through his mussed, dandelion streaked hair. He breathes out; a small whistle exiting his nose after he sniffs in deep, tasting some faint composure on his tongue.

You scowl at the buck’s corpse, feeling so foolish and lambasted like a little girl.

You don’t remember Joel having much of a temper. Out of the two of you, you were the hot headed one and he was always so mellow, even when you were tearing out his heart.

But of course, the world has changed since then, and looking at his glowering eyes, you can’t help but wonder what else he has endured through that has naturally fanned this fire within him to blaze. 

Deep down you know you’ve been reckless and put you both in danger; worse than that, put the whole mission and everyone tied to it in danger.

And all for the sake of some fucking venison. 

An onslaught of tears start to prickle and blur your vision; you try to blink them back in earnest. 

“Hey,” Joel steps towards you. “M'sorry I snapped,” he says more gently; the harsh lines in his face melting away into his cheeks.

You step back, away from him, and you don't know how much that tiny movement of you flinching shatters him. A sledgehammer to the crudely sewn up heart that's barely beating most days inside his chest cavity.

“It’s okay.” You shake your head, breathing in deeply and blinking them away. Endure and survive. Endure and survive. “You were right to, I deserved it. It was a fucking dumb idea.”

“No.” He shakes his head too. “I just…” He trails off as he catches sight of the young buck in the tree line. “That what ya shot?” 

You nod, smiling a little. “Figured it would be better than the cans. A treat, you know?"  

Joel baulks and a small bewildered smirk creeps over his lips that he tries in vain to quell. No, he can’t be impressed right now, he has to be hopping mad at you.

Has to be angry because otherwise he'll want to wrap his arms around you and comfort you. Give and feed you mutinous praise at how fucking strong you are now.

Look at you. You're incredible; he knew it the moment he saw you outside The Tipsy Bison, in your amazonian audacity. You were alive, which meant you were strong, had grit.

Stared death in the face and gave it the finger with blood in your teeth and fire in your belly. He's proud. Secretly, he's so fucking proud of you.

"How'd ya learn to shoot? When I knew ya, ya couldn't aim for shit." Joel queries.

His mind is transported back to a hazy, neon time that smells of cotton candy and balsamic fried onions, where he's laughing at you as you try, and fail miserably, to shoot stacked bottles at the fairground.

He took over, and with only one shot, you were cooing at him and clutching a stuffed penguin you'd named Wilson, or Wilbur, or some stupid shit like that. 

He doesn't know that you still had that daft penguin right up until Outbreak day. Or that you cuddled up close to it in your melancholy when you missed him.

You smile as you both glance at the buck; dead, glassy eyes staring back at you both. 

"Survival instinct, I guess. Point and shoot, otherwise you die, right?" You shrug bitterly.

He nods gently. It's a lesson he knows only too well. His grip tightens on the rifle.

"And later on, Kelper... He taught me a lot."

Joel scoffs and shakes his head. You see his lips visibly roll back over his teeth. "M'sure he did." 

"Careful. One might think you're jealous, Joel." You tease. 

"M'not." He grits, looking away. 

"Liar." You tease. "It was never like that between us. We love each other, but we're not in love. He's gay, Joel." You confirm into the air, convincing him, and unsure why you feel the need to.

"And if he wasn't?" He queries, despite himself.

"Maybe..." You say. "Probably. Doesn't matter." You know it's futile to wrangle the with the what if's. Everything happens for a reason. If Kelper was meant to be yours, he would have been.

He wasn't yours. Just like Joel. You bite down on the inside of your cheek until it stings.

He shrugs. "I should've taught ya." He mutters into the air. "Back when we were…"

The thought of you having to learn the hard way creates a blockage somewhere, stops blood flowing freely. It clots in the artery as he see's your panicked face behind his eyes; hears your wails as you fight back, terrified no doubt. He feels your fear as it builds up, causing pressure, swelling.

His fist goes to his chest as he clears his throat. "It shouldn't have been like this, any of it." Joel shakes his head. 

"I sometimes think it's a nightmare that I can't wake up from." You agree. "I don't know how I even got here. How I made it. How any of us did. It's all such a blur." You surmise, bleakly. "Time is so different now. Years feel like only days ago."

He slings the rifle onto his shoulder uncomfortably. 

You look down at the wild grass. "Pointless thinking about it though. We just keep on. Endure and survive." You conclude.

"S'a good mantra, I guess."

"It's why I'm still alive." You confirm.

"I thought 'bout ya." Joel says quietly after a few beats. 

"Yeah?" You look at his face quizzically.

Joel nods starkly as his walnut browns meet yours.

"I thought about you too." You look back at him.

"I mourned ya." He swallows, eyes dark, and you see his jaw twitch as he grinds on his teeth.

It hits you in the gut, ricochets off your spleen and passes out the other side.

"I hoped ya got out, that ya were safe. That someone was looking out for ya. But I really thought ya didn't make it. And then seeing ya… in the commune. As clear as fuckin' day. I thought I'd finally cracked. Lost it fully for a moment."

You listen, rooted to the spot on the grass as he speaks with an emptiness to his voice. You struggle to hear him though over the crashing waves of your heartbeat thudding in your ears. 

Joel turns back to you and sighs softly as he looks down at you. You look up to meet his eyes again; the red in yours fading away. 

“M'glad to be proven wrong." He confirms. "Y'always were a firecracker."

You smile at him not really knowing what to say. You just feel your fingertips throb and twitch.

You want to reach up and touch him so badly. Feel that silky, rough scruff and trace the lines of his face, reading the ridges and craters of his pores like braille. Run your nose across the prominent hook of his, dip your tongue back into the inkpot of his mouth and paint canvases with all of his colours again.

You want to tell him the same, that you thought he was dead too. That it killed you to know he could be gone from this world forever.

That a part of you died, and never came back, the day you left him.

"Wait for me,” he says through a voice you don’t recognise. “I need ya to wait for me next time, okay?” He nods over to the buck. 

You nod back at him slowly like you're in a trance.

He steps forward and this time you don’t step back, the gap getting smaller between you. It’s enough to strip the air from your lungs despite being outside and breathing it in. But there's no clarity in the dappling bokeh as it all fades out around you. 

Joel’s lips part, like he’s going to say something else, but doesn’t.

You desperately want to know what he wants to say. You want to yell it at him to tell you. To tell you that he missed you everyday as much as you missed him. To tell you that he wished you had knocked on his door.

You want him to split you open, pry the meat out from in between your ribs and feast on it. Devour you until there is nothing left. 

From the way he looks back at you, with those dark eyes becoming vortexes spanning across the universe, you can tell he wants the same.

It’s in every look, every breath; every beat of his unworthy heart. It’s just that he doesn’t know how to reach out and take it, or if he should. Or if you really want him to.

He used to know your signals once upon a time, he could read you, memorise your story. Now, you’re a blank paperback that he opens to be met with a daunting nothing. 

And you realise the longer you stand there, the more paralysed you’ve become too. Like you've forgotten how your limbs work.

All you can think about is re-tasting the colourless salt between your naked, sweaty bodies. You want him inside you with every fibre of your being. Shit, it's been too long.

Decades, a passage of time that you can't comprehend, and yet he can still leave you breathless, wanting.

He pollutes your thoughts even when right in front of you; he's cerebral. The frenetic pounding of the blood rushing in your veins makes you lightheaded. 

You watch, enthralled, as the Adam's apple in his tan throat somersaults, and Joel’s stepping back and breaking the hypnotic spell. 

“C’mon, help me carry this back up.” He throws the rifle over his shoulder again when it slips down, and you finally remember that you’re no longer static and growing roots in the soil.  

You both pick it up; he handles the head and you take the hind. Blood glistens in the fur behind its ear and it mesmerises you for a bit. Rubies in soft, wet velvet.

"I think I knew that you'd made it." You say, finding some chalk in your throat. "I mourned you too... Kelper, he had this idea that we should lay everyone we loved and lost to rest. It was kinda beautiful, to let go." You say, recalling the silk, tattered ribbons you tied onto the tree branches. One each for everyone gone. Your mom, your friends, colleagues.

One for Joel. 

"But deep down I guess I knew that you would still be alive, somewhere."

Joel looks at you as he steps up the hill.

"You're too stubborn to go down." You smile.

He smirks. "Old habits die hard." 

"Thank God for that." You confirm.

You can hear his breaths getting heavier as you both feel the weight of the buck on the incline. 

"S'a shame we don't have any rosemary. Red wine. Could'a made a fine meal outta this." Joel sighs into the air. "Spiced pears for dessert... Nice."

You snort. "You mean I could. You can't cook for shit, Miller." 

He laughs, you can see his broad shoulders heaving despite not hearing it. "I've learnt a few things here or there 'bout survivin'." Joel confirms, a dip weighing in his voice. 

"Mmhm." 

"I'll prove it. When we're back, I'll make ya somethin'."

"Really?" You baulk, grinning. The warmth from those words nestles against you, all snug and inviting. 

He shrugs and throws you a wry smirk. "Sure. Twenty year-old canned beefaroni. My specialty."

You laugh. His shoulders heave again as you both reach the top of the hill to the shack. Your arms ache, but the warmth from his laugh soothes it.

"That's a real nice sound. Missed it." Joel says quietly, but you hear it and it warms your face.

"We'll be neighbours in Jackson, how weird is that?" You say casually, but it makes your stomach flutter.

Joel smiles. "Fuckin' weird."

You laugh again.

"Don't be comin' over to borrow a cup of sugar. Don't have any." Joel throws over his shoulder.

"Then what kind of a neighbour are you?" You smirk.

"Useless."

"Doubtful." You conclude softly.

You both reach the top of the hill and round the back of the shack to where the stable is. You can feel the sweat beading on the back of your neck again, and Joel's audibly wheezing a little.

"I'll hold you to that, you know." You challenge as you both put the buck's carcass down just outside the stable. "The cooking for me thing, I mean. I'd like that."

You both stop and regard one another. Joel's eyes are shining and he's trying not to blush. But you can see it, and it's the most fantastic thing you think you'll ever see.

His lips spread into a smile that creates a dimple in his cheek that you remember all too well. You used to kiss it.

"S'a date." Joel mumbles at you with pink cheeks, as he holds open the door to the shack.

To be continued...

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Thank you for taking the time to read my story; it really means so much to me. I'd love to know your thoughts, and I'd really appreciate a re-blog so others can enjoy this story too. Thank you so much 🖤

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TAGLIST: If you'd like to be added/removed, please let me know.

Tagging everyone who asked to be tagged & who re-blogged my teaser.

@secretelephanttattoo @morgaussy @darkheartgatita @sp00kymulderr @survivingandenduring @sin-djarin @lilmizmoz @yazsos @ryangoslingstanktop @barbellpedro @givemeth @anavatazes @alwaysmicado @the-blind-assassin-12 @kirsteng42 @missredherring @gasolinerainbowpuddles @millennial-teenybopper @maggiemayhemnj @harriedandharassed @stevie75 @mysterious-moonstruck-musings @chaoticfestninja @reddedmiller @doughmonkey @sonderosa @magpiepillsjunior @chronically-ghosted @pedroswife69 @regalwhovianbrowncoat774 @marisemonteiroo @everythingiwanttoread @jjhayhay20 @nerdieforpedro @perennialdoll247 @casa-boiardi @joeldjarin @sscorpiiio @untamedheart81 @srmacaroni @violinchick @orcasoul @lucyeyelesbarrow @mandrillusphinx @loveisacowboyyy @suzmagine @disassociation-daydreams @anoverwhelmingdin @within-the-depths

#joel miller #joel miller tlou #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller smut #joel miller fic #joel miller the last of us #joel miller x reader #joel miller fan fic #joel miller fan fiction #joel miller angst #joel miller fluff #joel miller fanfic #the last of us fic #pedro pascal #pedro pascal joel miller #pedro pascal characters #five days series #jett's writing #jett's pedro boys

[lesinquietes]

Yandere!Dabi is so fucking dysfunctional, but what can he say? He learned from the best.

⚠️ mdni (this isn’t for kids/teens). abusive relationship. angst. daddy issues. dark content (I mean it y’all). manipulation. noncon (mentioned). spanking. trauma. violence. victim-blaming.

He doesn’t understand the concept of a healthy relationship — romantic or platonic. His emotion regulation and impulse control are non-existant, making him a walking time-bomb of unresolved trauma that’s bound to be projected onto someone.

Does “I can fix him!” sound like you? If yes, he dubs you a pretty fool. You think you can fix literal decades of internal conflict? He reasons that you have damage of your own if you’re willing to enter a relationship under the premise that you have to change him. You must have daddy issues. In a way, so does he. Unfortunately, heavy baggage x heavy baggage isn’t a good mix.

He can’t let himself be happy. All that’s driving him is revenge. Nothing else has motivated him to continue like the thought of confronting Shoto and his father. He won’t let himself be watered down by love, which is why he laughs whenever you say you care about him, and why he ignores you for a few days until you beg. Mind games. Cruelty. Forcing you to apologize when you’ve done nothing conceivably wrong, but oh, he finds reasons. Coaxing you into saying you’re sorry with a blowjob. Telling you he doesn’t know why he’s with a slut who can’t suck properly. Shoving you away when he loses his erection by thinking about how he’s fucking up a shot at happiness by treating you like a cumrag.

He tells himself it’s self-sabotage. That’s not the whole truth. A small part of him is sadistic; a small part of him enjoys your pain. It reminds him he’s not alone in harbouring a hurricane in his heart. It’s nice to have someone he resonates with. You can combust together. At least, that’s what he fantasizes about, until you burst his bubble.

When enough is finally enough, you leave him. Your decision stems from intolerance. You’ve had enough of his callous treatment. You need a partner you can trust. As a villain, camaraderie is everything, and Dabi hasn’t proved to you he’s reliable. As much as it hurts you, a future away from him is what you need.

You search for a shred of remorse in his eyes. All you discover is darkness. You can’t stay.

But as you explain yourself through tears, stammering and apologizing, he finds himself feeling something for once. It’s absent of revenge. It’s separate from his upbringing. It’s a foreign sensation — for you.

He doesn’t want you to go. Your departure will make the headaches worse and the burns throb harder. It’ll make the rumination deeper and the urge to incinerate himself to a bloody crisp more tempting. It’ll push him to the limit before he’s prepared to face his family.

He searches for any bit of love that’s left inside your aching heart. He finds it in your avoidant gaze. You can’t go.

You throw shit at him as he advances, a feral expression on his stapled face. Running on pure adrenaline, he doesn’t feel the impact of any object. He lurks closer and lets you have your little tantrum. He remembers his mother having one or two of these, too, though his father was good at placating her; watching that from the doorway of his bedroom taught him precisely how he’ll placate you.

Violence isn’t the answer; at least, not if you listen. And you do. It only takes him grabbing you by the wrists and squeezing until you scream. They’ll be bruised for days. You’re lucky he didn’t break them.

He drags you into the bedroom by the hair and throws you onto the bed. He doesn’t let you squirm away. He pulls you onto his lap, yanks down your pants, and asks you how many hits you deserve. He’s not wholly unreasonable, so when you tell him to fuck right off, he thinks twenty is fair. Thirty if you lose count. Forty if you fight him. Fifty if you neglect to admit your wrongdoings. The choice to behave is yours, and he makes this known to you before he begins. If you falter, it’s all your fault.

By the time he’s done, and your ass stings like it’s been sunburnt, you’re weeping and regretting ever presuming you could leave him. How could you think he doesn’t care about you when he took time out of his busy schedule to correct your behaviour tonight? He wouldn’t teach anyone else a lesson — just you, his woman.

You perk up at the term. His woman. As much as you hate to admit it, glaring through the aftermath of sadness, attention from Dabi lights your heart on fire. You crave it. You want to make him happy. Of course, there’s a deranged method to your madness; if he’s happy, he’s not angry, and if he’s not angry, he’s halfway good to you. You need him to be good to you, like he needs you to be a better girlfriend. Take accountability. Give yourself to him. Trust. If he hasn’t been treating you the way you want to be treated, be patient. Maybe he’ll give your way a try when the mood possesses him.

And no more fucking running, or else you’ll have more to worry about than a couple of bruises.

#oooh this is a bit raw watch out lol #tw abuse #tw angst #tw dark content #tw trauma #yandere dabi #yandere dabi x reader #yandere touya todoroki #yandere touya x reader #scumbag dabi #fem reader

[martyrbat]

perpetual mourning – batman black and white (1996) #1

[ID: a black and white panel sequence of Bruce Wayne as Batman investigating a murder. He performed an examination of the victim's body and found DNA evidence to convict her killer and then performed an autopsy to examine her stomach contents — which led him to a little 24/7 diner. He walks in, disrupting the cozy scene with his presence.

Bruce internally reflects, ‘People think i'm a knight. A savior. But in truth, I'm only a vessel to hold the memories of those who've passed on. Those who've no shell left to store them. They must think I revel in my victories. It must seem like I never lose a fight. I lose plenty. The ones I couldn't get to. The ones I couldn't save in time. Those are the ones I carry around inside of me. Those are the ones I'll mourn forever.’

He shows the only waitress a photo of the victim's face and asks, “Excuse me. Do any of you know this woman?” The waitress gasps and holds her hand to her head in shocked distress. She stammers, “That's Chelsea, she comes in here all the time. Sits in the same booth, the same time, reads the same book... um, what was the title...? She, uh, left here only a couple of... Why do you... Oh, god. No. Dear girl...”

Back at the morgue, Bruce solemnly gazes down at the woman as she lays in an unzipped body bag. He thinks, ‘Luckily, you hadn't digested your last meal, Chelsea. There're only a few places in the neighborhood where you were found that serve blueberry pie at this hour of the morning.’ He carefully zips the body bag entirely. The identification label states she was a thirty year old caucasian female. The name ‘Jane Doe’ has been scribbled out to now be replaced with ‘Chelsea Rain’. Bruce continues to ruminate, ‘You only have your thoughts and dreams ahead of you. You're someone. You mean something. I'll remember. You're within me now. Forever.’ END ID]

#screaming wailing sobbing.... #‘People think i'm a knight. A savior. But in truth I'm only a vessel to hold the memories of those who've passed on. #Those who've no shell left to store them. They must think I revel in my victories. It must seem like I never lose a fight. I lose plenty. #The ones I couldn't get to. The ones I couldn't save in time. Those are the ones I carry around inside of me. #Those are the ones I'll mourn forever.’ THATS HIM!!!! THAT'S BRUCE !!!!! EVERY DEATH HE CARRIES WITH HIM AND FEELS RESPONSIBLE FOR #EVEN IF ITS ILLOGICAL! EVEN IF HE COULD NEVER PREVENT IT. HES ALWAYS GOING TO BLAME HIMSELF AND DEDICATE HIS LIFE TO THOSE WHO LOST THEIRS #HES ALWAYD GOING TO FEEL GUILTY FOR NOT BEING ABLE TO PROTECT THEM. IF HE HAD JUST SKIPPED THAT MEAL TO DO MORE RESEARCH. IF HE COULD OF #STAYED UP. IF HE COULD HAD FIGURED IT OUT FASTER. IF HE COULD HAVE SOMEHOW BE THERE... #JUST ALWAYS FEELING RESPONSIBLE FOR EVERY SINGLE PERSON'S LIFE. #HES ALWAYS GOING TO MOURN THE STRANGERS ON THE STREET JUST AS MUCH AS HE MOURNS HIS PARENTS !!! HIM AND HIS BLEEDING HEART !!!! #c: batman black and white (1996) | i: 1 #crypt's panels #bruce wayne #batman #ransom's recs #<- babe.... new tag... :((

[pinkrelish]

𝐰𝐢𝐬𝐡 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞.

bestfriend!eddie x fem!reader

✶He made it clear he never wanted to see you again, and yet, here you were running into him face-first after he hunted you down.✶

NSFW — parent death, alluding to abuse, light angst, 18+ overall for eventual smut, drug/alcohol mention/use

chapter: 4/15 [wc: 3.5k]

↳ part 01 / 02 / 03 / 04 / 05 / 06 / 07 / 08 / 09 / 10 / 11

AO3

Chapter 4: Waffles Heal All Wounds

A diner. That’s where you woke up. The frowning woman knocking on your car’s roof told you so.

Squinting from the sun behind her, you rolled down your window and tried to appear more awake than you were. “Hi?”

She put a hand on her hip where her brown half-apron was tied. “You’re illegally parked.”

You leaned your head out and, sure enough, when you had pulled into a parking lot last night out of desperation to avoid an embarrassing death of ‘cried too hard and hit a tree,’ you parked sideways, taking up three spaces. “Oh shit, sorry.” You fumbled for your keys in the cupholder under a mountain of tissues.

Maybe it was how haggard your appearance was, or specifically the streaks of dried mascara on your cheeks, but she took an ounce of pity on you. “Cops like to stop to get coffee here, didn’t want you getting a ticket,” she said, going inside to flip around the sign on the door.

“‘Preciate it!”

Having nothing better to do until later, and still reeling from the after effects of your massive post-sob hangover, you decided a morning beginning with a stack of syrupy waffles sounded amazing right about now. You adjusted the rearview mirror and scrubbed yesterday’s fuck up from under your eyes, staining your crisp white tracksuit’s sleeve. Doing your best to tidy up your appearance regardless of the nauseating remorse churning your stomach.

“What else did I expect?” you chided your reflection.

The same middle-aged woman from earlier sat you at the booth in the corner. It was your decision to face the wall. After the memories of last night had flooded in, you just wanted to be left alone to sulk; head in your hands, waiting for food you were losing the appetite for the longer you stewed over what you’d done.

When the waitress returned to take your order, you were still hunched over, rubbing your palms into your eyes. “Waffles.”

“Long night?”

“Yeah.”

“Waffles cure everything!” she expelled her wisdom, chipper than when you were causing her problems in the parking lot.

“Doubt it.”

Nursing your headache with soothing sips of fresh coffee, you sat in disillusioned silence. Tinny music cut in from a radio near the kitchen. Someone turned the pages of a newspaper. The door chimed. Chimed again. Tiny birds chirped, hopped, pecked around the concrete outside. A chair creaked as someone sat down a few tables behind you. None of it an adequate distraction from your cynical sentiments about being in the small town you had ambivalent feelings towards. Hating your rather optimistic bout of nerves yesterday at the prospect of seeing him again. Building and building. Excitement, adrenaline over seeing your childhood best friend. Hoping.. Hoping against all odds he’d be just as happy to see you too.

Stupid.

So stupid.

Two waffles appeared before you. A small cup of syrup and a packet of butter, too. Delicious. Unfortunately, you weren’t hungry for more than half of the one on top, surrendering by dropping your fork and knife on the plate, not caring about the loud clang they made, struggling to chew and swallow what was in your dry mouth.

After what seemed like the longest thirty seconds of your life, you drank the rest of your coffee and scooted to the end of the booth and stood up, too busy ruminating on your failures to pay attention to what was in front of you.

RATT.

The band’s logo came into focus a fraction before your nose collided with it. Along with patches on a jean vest. Hints of weed and alcohol despite the gentle, sober breath grazing your face. The invading scent of stale cigarette smoke and worn leather. Old Spice, too. You’d think he’d find something new to wear since you left, but he didn’t, and somehow, the pang of nostalgia was both comforting and vicious. A trap you understood like an old friend.

Standing toe to toe with Eddie, you were shivering in the artificial cool air. He was warm. A welcoming presence once upon a time, now stiff and awkward with your sudden proximity. Bodies touching on accident due to your timing of getting up to leave the moment he approached. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he gulped; the only tell he was equally as flustered as you. When you forced your gaze to meet his, you caught the flick of his eyes lifting from elsewhere lower on your face.

“I’m ready to talk,” he stated.

Relief and fear was evident in your simple, “Okay.” You motioned for him to join you, and of course, he was already moving to do so without your permission.

This booth was not made for two people on tentative speaking terms. Sitting across from Eddie, the top of the table was cramped with your plate and drinkware; underneath, you fidgeted until your legs were between his, so he could stop stepping on your shoes. He knocked your right knee in the shuffle and you clenched your teeth to hide the wince.

“You look rough,” he said, clearly indicating the smeared lines of mascara on your cheeks.

“You look handsome,” you retorted in the same deadpan tone.

Against his will, his eyebrow quirked. Sincere amusement flashed in his dark brown eyes. A charitable glimpse of the boy you used to know. “Haven’t been called handsome in years. If I call you beautiful, can I have the rest of that?” He pointed at the waffles, and of course, you were already pushing them towards him.

And that was it. That’s all it took for you to fall victim to your old ways. Volunteering, practically, to fawn over the most minute of details in how he ate with your fork. Chewing with his mouth slightly open, always. Sipping from your water glass.

Either he’d meant to put his lips over the exact print your chapstick left behind in a sort of pseudo kiss, or he had impeccable aim.

The waitress lingered at the end of your table gripping her notepad and tapping her pencil on it nervously, shifting her gaze from you to the cops at the counter staring you down with a fierce sneer.. Well, not you. They were glaring at Eddie’s existence, who was distracted by the birds outside.

“Can I get you anything?” she asked.

Eddie swept his attention to her, a grand smile on his face and hands clasped cutely on the table. “Could I get a coffee, please and thank you?”

She didn’t look at him. Rather, eyeing his myriad of heavy metal patches. Making assumptions about him and turning on her heel. Treating him differently from how she treated you, regardless of the fact you may as well have been cut from the same cloth. If it bothered him, he didn’t let it show. In mutual agreement, you remained quiet in the lulled purgatory of lapsed conversation, waiting until she returned with his coffee, refilled your own, and walked away to pick up where you left off.

“So..” Eddie stabbed another piece of waffle. “Why’d you leave without telling me?”

“Starting with the million dollar question, I see.” You sank back into the dense cushion of the booth, and when that felt too far away for your private conversation, you rested your forearms on your thighs and picked at your cuticles. “Do you know what my last memory of you is?” Glancing up from the plate, he shook his head, and you’d never recover from the way his curls bounced.

Accepting your burgeoning grin, you wore gladly, aware it wouldn’t last. “We were standing in your kitchen. Riders on the Storm was playing in your room. I had just blown out the candles on the birthday cake you made me and I remember thinking how that was the nicest thing anyone had done for me, birthday or not. It meant even more coming from you. The year before that you picked me flowers, which I still have pressed in a book, by the way, but there was something special about you going through the trouble of baking me a cake and decorating it. We’ve known each other for most of our lives and not once have you looked at me like you did when I took a piece. You were just so.. I don’t know, proud of me.” You exhaled a long sigh until anxiety closed in on your lungs. ”I wanted our last memory together to be a happy one. That’s why I didn’t tell you.”

“Did you eat it? The cake?”

“Hell yeah.”

He allowed his smirk to come through. “Good. Didn’t want it to go to waste because of your mom.”

“Right..” you agreed, wiping your sweaty palms on your pants. Your change in demeanor was palpable. An omen like vultures circling the obvious. Eddie’s rings clinked on the table as he set down the fork, tilting his head to get a better read on your expression painted in melancholic hues from the rogue cloud covering the sun.

“You made me strong,” you said, crossing your arms and digging your knuckle into your lip, savoring the mild pain on your gums. “You know I couldn’t cry around her, or else she’d.. whatever. I would just hold it in. All day. And when things got really bad, at night I’d play the BBC Radio’s adaptation of The Hobbit. It’s not the same as you reading to me, but it helped.” Outside, the birds flew away. “I thought about you every single day, Eddie.”

“I thought about you too,” he admitted, tearing open sugar packets. Your heart leapt at each scrape of the spoon against the ceramic mug. “Tried not to.”

Prepared to hear as much, but at a loss for words, you prompted him for more, “Yeah?”

He ran his tongue across the back of his teeth. “Yeah.”

One uttered word wielded like a weapon. You had never seen him angry before last night. Pissed off over inconveniences, sure, but last night.. He hated you, and though you could hazard a guess why, he hadn’t explained his side of the story yet.

For someone who wanted to talk, he hadn’t said much.

“I thought you would be okay.. I mean, I was the one moving to a new state and starting over from scratch, at least you had other friends here.”

“Not like you,” his vulnerability was whispered, “Our friendship was different. You knew that.”

“Eddie..”

Finished eating, he set the plate at the end of the table and ran his hand over his face. Doing the thing he did when he wanted to hide how upset he was; dragging his fingers over his closed eyes and down to his jaw. Working through the sting of knowing a memory he hated was beloved by you. Confused as to what he should be feeling when the night that changed his life for the worse was meant to comfort you through trauma. Was it right to be mad at you?

A difficult thing to parse when so much of sitting across from one another was intrinsic to your time together, having done it casually day after day, cramped together at the small green table in his kitchen, or huddled at the end of the cafeteria table away from the other students, or skipping class to sit at the picnic table in the woods. Longing for the familiar territory of one another’s company and not knowing if it could ever be the same, or if it would last.

“Listen, I don’t remember much about the day you left,” he explained. “Or the days after, really. I kinda went off the deep end, but I do remember telling Wayne I knew you were leaving and I was just taking it hard, so he doesn’t know the full scope of everything, if you were wondering.”

Even when faced with your betrayal, his first priority was protecting your image.

The desire to hold his hand consumed you. It manifested in tears spilling over your lower lashes. It clutched onto your breath. An urge so severe it panicked you, and yet, its inappropriateness kept you frozen. “I never meant to hurt you. I.. F-Fuck.” You stared at the ceiling, gathering your emotions. Imagining a time when you two were inseparable. Laying in the grass, listening to music together.

When you could speak again, you accepted your consequences. “I’m so sorry, Eddie. I don’t know where to go from here, but I’m so sorry for hurting you. I’m so sorry.”

Pennsylvania State University Women’s Gymnastics Team. A chance at a better life. Reading the embroidery on your jacket with the same somber expression as last night, he spoke aloud softly, honestly, “You were right to leave.”

Patting down his pockets for some substance to escape the past, and finding nothing, he changed the subject instead. “I imagine you didn’t drive all this way to give me closure, so why are you really here?”

“Well, I guess that’s as good as a segue I’ll get..” Thankful for the switch in mood, you made a few more uncommitted hems and haws, bouncing your leg against his inner thigh. “She, uh..” You waved your hands, searching for the words, and settling on a lilting, “She.. died?”

Rightfully so, he angled his ear at you and clarified, “Your mom died?”

“Like two months ago.” You shrugged, wide-eyed, waiting for his reaction. He made a drinking motion. “Yep, liver failure.”

“Do you want my condolences?” he asked straightfaced.

You pulled a short, but comical, grimace and offered the truth, “Nah. It’s complicated, I guess. I should feel sad she’s dead, but in some ways, I have my life back.. I never told you, but my bank account has always been under her name. She’s had full control over everything, starting way back when I worked at Benny’s on the weekends. Even up til she died, she used my student loan money to go on benders. I specifically got another waitressing job so I could skim some of the tips without her noticing. She’d still berate me if I didn’t earn enough, so it was a tough balance, but it was the quickest job I could think of where she couldn’t access everything.” Eddie reached into his jacket’s inner pocket to take out the envelope you left for him. “No! Keep it, really. It’s for you and Wayne. Or, at the very least, to pay you back for all the weed over the years.”

Hesitating, he accepted you weren’t going to take it, and put it back. “I never would’ve made you pay for weed.”

You snorted. “What a gentleman.”

“You could’ve made more tips by stripping, just so you know.”

“I take back what I said.”

Deflecting to your mugs of coffee after the short fervency of your eye contact became too heated, you continued, “Her death has been a real bitch to deal with. Not in a sad way. Just, God, it doesn’t quit. One thing after another. I didn’t expect to have literally nothing in my bank account, and do you know how expensive dying is, even after the medical bills? Not only did I have to put together some stupid funeral arrangement for this bitch, I had to do shit like terminate the lease on her apartment. And you wouldn’t believe how bad this woman trashed it. Had to hire help to clean it out, and now I’ve come to find out she’s still paying for shit like the lot in Forest Hills.” You rolled your eyes to the high heavens. “Who fucking knows why. Probably just to waste my money. Anyway, that’s why I’m still here. I’m going through the process of having everything transferred in my name and having them demolish that fucking trailer–which reminds me I need to schedule a dumpster for that because the contractor won’t supply one. Oh! And as a bonus ‘fuck you’ because Hawkins is ass-backwards and hates me, they won’t accept anything by fax. I have to go to court and sign shit in person, so I’ll be back here again in 30 to 45 business days to finish the permits for the aforementioned construction, praying my car makes the drive, and then I’ll be free.”

Eddie nodded patiently, eyebrows raised, giving you the grace to vent to him as he finished his coffee. “It’s not even my life and you make me want a cigarette.”

You laughed, hard, and fuck, did it feel good to laugh again. To reap the reward of his shy smile. His leg resting against yours. His fingers cupped around his mug in the center of the table, where yours were too, doing the same thing. Tapping your mug for the sole purpose of discovering the delicate nature of his knuckles being softer than yours with each beat.

He sat forward, sliding your knee along his inner thigh. “You sure you don’t want your tips back to help pay for all this?”

Quick to respond, you inquired, “Would you like to stuff them in my G-string, or would you rather I lay down and you can rain them on me?”

It was his turn to laugh. Bright like his naturally higher voice, which you adored, and a bit cackling too, as if he were a villain. A full laugh coming from the heart. A dangerous thing, you realized when you looked at each other a bit too long.

Once eye contact had been established, there was no coming back. The affection in your gaze roaming his face. The tenderness in his smile, just like old times. But a reserved version. On guard. Already fading at the rhythm of your pounding hearts.

“I feel like I’ve been going on, and on, and on,” you said. “Tell me what’s been up with you–?” Your watch beeped. 11:00 blinked at you. Swiveling around, you examined the lively restaurant brought to life by the lunch rush. “Have we really been here that long?”

Eddie shrugged. “Got somewhere to be?”

“My first appointment of the day. I’ve gotta be downtown in, like, ten minutes.”

Too soon.

Hope ignited the instant neither of you made to leave. The backs of your fingers touching his, metal to flesh as you learned the sensation of his ring’s edges against your skin.

He said, “I’ll walk you to your car.”

You said, “Okay.”

Neither of you moved.

“Wouldn’t want you to be late.”

“No, that would be terrible.”

He puckered his lips to rid himself of his uneven grin, fixing his gaze on your touching hands. You did the same. Existing in the strange dynamic you found yourselves in. A state of unforgiveness, but willing to blot each other’s wounds for the sake of healing and moving on.

Your watch beeped again. “Okay, I really have to go now.”

After paying, you took one step out the door and did a double-take, bewildered beyond belief. “You still drive that thing?”

Eddie joined your side, following what you were pointing at. “Yeah, it’s the same van.”

“I would’ve thought you had crashed it by now.”

He clicked his tongue, offended, “I’ll have you know I’m a perfectly safe driver.”

“You literally drove it into a ditch the day you got it,” you reminded him. He flapped his hand like a mouth to mock you. You shoved his arm. “I meant to ask, how did you know where to find me?”

Coming round to your vehicles, he lingered at your trunk while you unlocked your door. “Gut instinct.” You raised your brows, asking him to elaborate, and he spun his keys around his finger, dragging his feet on the walk to his van parked next to you. “I just knew.”

“All right then, keep your secrets,” you conceded. “Oh yeah!” He paused, hand on the headrest, about to climb in. “I don’t have a boyfriend.”

Turning to regard you as if you’d said the bizarrest thing, Eddie’s hair flowed over his shoulders in the wind, a precious pinch of confusion between his brows, and a handsome twist to his mouth.

“You mentioned a boyfriend I could go home to last night, but, alas, I must regretfully inform you I do not have one.” When he remained speechless, you broke. Doubled over with laughter, holding your sides. Giddier than you had any right to be.

Eddie shook his head at you. Then, he thought about it. “You said you’ll be back in 30 to 45 business days?”

“Unfortunately!”

“Okay,” he said, “Okay.”

He was quick to get in his van and shut the door behind him, as were you to start your car and get to your appointment on time, but.. It wasn’t until your third alarm beeped that you realized you had been sitting there, tracing your thumb over your grin, forgetting to drive away.

And it wasn’t until you glanced in your rearview mirror, you saw Eddie was doing the same thing, remembering he wasn’t dreaming.

Taglist: @xxhospital-for-soulsxx @myfavoritesareproblematic @henhouse-horrors @tlclick73 @sidthedollface2 @i-will-duckyou-up @qnsfwthoughts @captainonaboat @eddiemuns0nl0ver @godcreatoreli @harrys-tittie @eg-dr3amer3 @trixyvix88 

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #stranger things #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson angst #eddie x reader #eddie x y/n #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson smut #stranger things fanfic #stranger things x reader #stranger things x you

[waystarresourceco]

The writers of Succession discuss the Kendall and Logan dynamic/hug in the last scene of “No One is Ever Missing.” After showing the scene at the panel, the writers walk through (a) the line between comedy and drama/tragedy and (b) Logan’s thoughts and motivations underpinning that scene. (x)

While the whole clip is worth a watch or listen, the last minute, where Jesse Armstrong and Lucy Prebble describe Logan’s thoughts/emotions while talking to Kendall, is transcribed below:

Jesse Armstrong: I think there’s loads of tenderness. I think it’s really mixed up with a fucked-up version of just enjoying that power. Like the whole – he’s been very destabilized in that episode where there’s a bear hug letter and the business feels under threat. And to feel another clunk of relief of like “oh this is how it’s meant to feel” with his supplicant son. Lucy Prebble: And being somewhat of a good father in that moment, and yet it’s ironic because what he’s enjoying about it, exactly as Jesse’s saying, is the patriarchal sense of being in control again and him being a little boy that he needs to save. So it’s toxic and unpleasant at the same time as he is protecting his son from bad consequences cause of something he’s done so it’s actually quite ideal for Logan.  

Additional writing on this to follow, but I also wanted to mention that the above may be interesting to consider in connection with “Window Rumination,” a backstory piece written by Jesse that lays out a memory of six-year-old Kendall visiting Waystar, getting lost, and being saved by his father’s embrace. The same kind of embrace that almost thirty years later is both a comfort and a confirmation of the terrible force of Logan’s love. (x)

#okay but for real it is a love story #just like...a very upsetting one #more to come on this topic because i have too many thoughts #succession #hbo succession #kendall roy #logan roy #jesse armstrong #lucy prebble

[rebeccathenaturalist]

How Nature Makes Us Feel Better

A shiny new study just came out detailing nature’s restorative effects, specifically on children and adolescents. It’s an in-depth literature review that not only demonstrates the effectiveness of nature as a therapeutic tool, but supports the future use of standardized measures to make the study of ecopsychology, ecotherapy and similar practices more scientifically rigorous. The study is just the latest in a long line of research showing how nature makes us feel better.

Earlier this year, I wrote an article on nature’s effects on the brain. Mobile EEGs are able to record changes in the brain as study participants spend time outdoors, and multiple studies use their readings. This is an example of a more quantitative approach to studying the restorative effects of nature, in which certain metrics can be measured reliably over and over again.

But what, exactly, happens when nature makes us feel better? Let’s look at some of the measurable effects. (Note: I drew from a previous article of mine from several years ago for the following material, though it was a great opportunity to check in on more recent research.)

Physical Ways Nature Makes Us Feel Better

Increased Immune Function: This extensive literature review shows that time spent in nature improves immune function on a variety of levels. Studies show how time in nature can increase the number of white blood cells that help fight infection and other ailments: in senior citizens after exercising, and after forest bathing.

Improved Vision: Children are less likely to develop myopia (near-sightedness) when they spend more time outside. This study suggests that dopamine is a key player in this phenomenon. A literature review further supports the connection between eyesight and outdoor time.

Lower Blood Pressure: A 2020 study suggests that exposure to the UV light in sunshine can lower blood pressure. So can thirty minutes of outdoor activity (along with lowering symptoms of depression.) Forest bathing was shown to lower blood pressure in older people in a 2012 study. This study posits that nature’s effect on blood pressure may be accomplished through calming the sympathetic nervous system.

Improve Socioeconomic Conditions: Decreasing poverty is an incredibly important part of increasing intergenerational mobility in socioeconomically disadvantaged people. This 2019 study suggests that access to greenspace can reduce the chance of poverty by boosting creativity, emotional regulation, and academic performance. Another study links boosts in creativity with forest bathing, one particular use of greenspace. Moreover, greenspaces can also lower crime rates, another significant factor in improving conditions in disadvantaged communities.

As if all that wasn’t enough, this massive, comprehensive literature review has evidence that time in nature can not only lower blood pressure and resting heart rates, but also reduce the chances of heart disease, diabetes, and overall mortality. Speaking of mortality, here’s a study looking at how greenspace in particular can lower mortality in a stable community. And another one looking at lower mortality rates in urban areas with greenspace. And in case you thought that the effects of outdoor exercise was all about the exercise and not the setting, here’s one showing that mortality rates are lower when people specifically walk in greenspace.

Psychological Ways Nature Makes Us Feel Better

Reduced Rumination: Psychological rumination is basically when your mind gets stuck on some worry, painful memory, or other negative thoughts. It’s commonly associated with anxiety and depressive disorders. Unlike meditation or problem-solving thoughts, rumination doesn’t actually help a person make any changes to their distress, and may actually make it worse, like incessantly poking at a bruise.

Time in nature has been shown to reduce rumination in study participants. A 2021 study demonstrates that spending a dedicated amount of time in nature each week significantly reduces rumination as well as negative affect (in other words, a bad mood.) You don’t need to spend hours out there, though; a half an hour may be enough to see a difference. It needs to be actual nature, though, as this 2018 study shows; people who viewed a slideshow of nature photos did show an improvement in affect, but no reduction in rumination.

Cognitive Function: Time in nature can help sharpen our mental capacity in a number of ways. This thorough, multidisciplinary literature review explores several of the ways nature is restorative, and also suggests some ways to further categorize these effects to increase consistency in future research. Hospitals that have significant greenspaces are easier to navigate due to improved spatial awareness, mood, and other factors. Cognitive performance can even be boosted simply by listening to the sounds of nature. Working memory may be improved through time spent in nature. Time outside can counteract attention fatigue, that feeling when your mind is so tired you just can’t focus. Can’t get outside? Even looking out a window can improve attention. And it may only take a very short period of time to start getting positive cognitive effects.

Stress Reduction: Stress can seriously strain cognitive functioning, from attention to memory and more, never mind overall mental well-being. So reducing stress is a good idea all around. A twenty minute walk in nature was shown to lower levels of cortisol, a stress-related hormone. A 2022 study compared the activity of the amygdala–sort of the brain’s panic button–before and after time spent in nature. The amygdala was much less active after a walk outside. Most studies have participants engage in a specific activity over a set amount of time and often in the same location to help remove confounding variables. However, a 2019 study that allowed participants to set their own parameters for where and when they would have their nature experiences showed that they still had significant drops in cortisol after being outside.

A Healthier Environment: Workers who are able to look out on a greenspace fare better than those who don’t. While virtual reality greenspaces can contribute some benefit, it’s better to go with the real deal, and the more biodiversity, the better. As mentioned earlier, hospitals with greenspace not only improve cognitive performance, but they’re also more pleasing to staff and patients alike. This literature review supports the therapeutic value of healing gardens in hospitals. (Note: These studies often cover both physiological and psychological benefits of greener built environments.)

A Sense of Awe: Nature inspires us to experience deep feelings of awe, which has been shown to improve mental well-being in multiple demographics. This transcendent experience can be incredibly healing and formative. Even better, the experience of feeling awe in nature can lead to more eco-friendly behavior by making people feel more connected to the natural world.

Soft Fascination: This is a term coined by researchers Rachel and Stephan Kaplan to refer to the more relaxed, organic way our attention flows when we are in a nature-dominated environment as opposed to a largely artificial one. A 2019 study demonstrates that it simply takes less mental effort for us to view natural scenes. We also find spending time in nature to be more restorative than watching TV for the same reasons. Also, for the fun of it, here’s a neat study exploring the intersection of soft fascination, sense of humor, and mental well-being.

Resilience: Social distancing due to the COVID-19 pandemic prompted studies on how nature can increase resilience, including this one on urban nature, and another on adolescents’ mental well-being.

Studies showing the benefits of nature are just one step in making use of nature’s restorative properties. One of the themes you’ll run into again and again when exploring this topic is that greenspace is most definitely not evenly distributed, especially in urban areas. Wealthy and privileged communities have disproportionately greater amounts of greenspace compared to socioeconomically disadvantaged ones, which makes the issue of mental health and nature based therapy a social justice issue.

Moreover, many natural places are not accessible to disabled people. A significant lack of infrastructure to get disabled people to these spaces, and then allowing them to explore them as extensively as non-disabled people, means that there is a serious disparity. While there are efforts toward equality in this area as well, there is still plenty of room for improvement.

Finally, nature should not only exist for our benefit, but for its intrinsic value independent of our human agendas and biases. While personal restoration and rejuvenation are certainly good things to enjoy whenever we get the opportunity to go outside, and we shouldn’t feel any guilt or shame for how nature makes us feel better, I think it is very important that we not take our greenspaces for granted, and work to make sure they are preserved and restored for generations to come.

Did you enjoy this post? Consider taking one of my online foraging and natural history classes, checking out my other articles, or picking up a paperback or ebook I’ve written! You can even buy me a coffee here!

#long post #psychology #ecopsychology #ecotherapy #health #nature #forest bathing #shinrinyoku #gardening #outdoors #forests #gardens #mental health #mental illness #depression #anxiety #stress #resilience

[sciencevillain]

I've seen a lot of posts over the years make jokes about Ford being terrible at cooking, and I'm glad people are having fun. The smart-guy-is-bad-at-everyday-things trope is fun! Your headcanon is not my headcanon and that's okay. Please, don't let me stop any of you from having your own headcanons! I also realize that it's Not That Deep and I'm putting on diving gear to go swimming in a puddle.

That being said, since going into unnecessary amounts of detail about frivolous things is one of my favorite pastimes, I'm now going to go into detail about why I, personally, think Ford is absolutely fine at cooking.

Ford is a big fan of self-sufficiency. He has chronic can't-ask-for-help-from-anyone-ever disease. He also grew up with a ridiculous amount of pressure put on him to Be The Best at Everything. If he ever burned a single egg while someone else was in the house, he would ruminate about it for days. He literally Would Not Rest until he not only perfected the art of cooking an egg, but also had served the Perfect Egg to the witnesses of his burned egg debacle, so he could make sure the witnesses of his terrible embarrassment would know he is Good at This Now, Actually.

Being bad at cooking isn't even something he could easily hide. It's the kind of thing other people Notice, at least when they live with you. Even more motivation for him to learn how to do it.

Ford spent thirty years in the multiverse. He sure as fuck was not going to burn what little food he could find out there. If nothing else, he would have gotten passably good at cooking through sheer necessity.

Here's my cooking-related headcanon for Ford: he hates it. He hates how long it takes, and how many times he has to interrupt what he's doing in a day just to make more food, and how easy it is to forget about a vegetable in the back of the fridge until it goes bad. He's all about efficiency, and cooking is the number one thing that stops him from working on his research for 24 hours straight. He also thinks it's really boring. So he takes as many shortcuts as he can, e.g. buying cans of chili instead of a bunch of things to chop up, to save as much time on cooking as possible. He seems like the kind of guy that makes the people in his life worry that he doesn't know how to cook, until one day when he has a rare moment of being interested in cooking, and he blows them away by making a completely normal dinner recipe. He is capable of being completely average at cooking, he just chooses to commit food crimes most of the time. Especially after his years in the multiverse. He'll put together the most god-awful flavor combinations you've ever heard of and then go "wow, this is almost just like my favorite food from the Flavor Dimension."

#ford pines #can you tell I'm worried about people taking this post the wrong way lol #I just wanna share my headcanon i am not trying to argue i promise #long post #original

[regretful-prince]

Thirty One Ruminatons

Written for @microficmay​ 2022 : [ Draco POV + 50 word prompts ] Prompt 27: Hopeful | Dramione | Read on AO3

Rumours are going around. Everybody suspects the worst.

Potter owls him, demanding to know what the truth is. It's phrased less cordially than that, of course.

Granger's hopeful they can still remain discreet. "Don't agitate things," she says.

Draco dips his quill.

Potter,

Mind your own fucking business.

- Draco Malfoy

#dhr #dhr fanfiction #dhr fic #dramione fanfiction #dramione fanfic #dramione fic #dramione #Draco Malfoy #Hermione Granger #draco x hermione #hermione x draco #microficmay2022 #harry potter microfic #microfic #regretfulprince #thirty one ruminations

[punishing-eden]

So idk if you do smut or taking any request at the moment but if you do can you do Lee where he gets jealous? Like commandant is spending TOO much time with Wanshi being his pillow and all.

Author's Note:

Hi, you can still submit requests,I don't mind doing them from time to time. But rn I am a bit busy irl, so it will take a while for me to finish.

As of right now, I don't write Smut. At most, I could is implications of sexual acts. But not full pornographic details/paragraphs.

But also, a Lee and Wanshi sandwich????!!! 😍😍

I know I said this before, but I will say this again, I really need to get to Echo Aria.😢I have heard about their interaction and, Boi... it's *Chefs kiss*

Edit: aksjakjskaka, I made a huge mistake, it has now been fixed.😭😭

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

"Our" (Grey Raven's) Commandant...

Lee (Entropy) x Commandant/reader (ft. Wanshi)

Summary:

Lately, Lee has been experiencing a unique emotion whenever he sees you with another construct, Wanshi. Although, he was convinced it was just some malfunctioning of his M. I. N. D programming. His actions spoke other wise.

Needless to say, Wanshi seems know what was going on.

Tags: Tw: Jealousy, gatekeeping behaviour, request, mild fluff, one shot, a triangle

It started at thirty centimetres. By the time you came back to Babylonia from an earth mission, the proximity, between you and Wanshi shrank by ten.

A week later, it reduced to five, four, three, two, one, all the way to zero. Lee counted the units, whenever he saw you and Wanshi together.

He had been counting, the units on full display in his inner device. Recording the number of times that proximity unit reached to zero. According to his data, it happened more than a 'good' amount.

"I am sorry, but this is 'our' (Grey Raven's) Commandant," he once warned Wanshi, who only looked at Lee with a nonchalant expression. Eyes heavy with fatigue, Wanshi, whom, with a more mature way of thinking, only nodded and ignore Lee's statement. Keeping things civil, Hypnos hummed and walked away.

Without a doubt, it infuriated Lee. Holing up in his room, the construct ruminated in thought, while dismantling his gears. In his mind, you have been spending more time with Strike Hawk. At first, as Lee thought, it was all professional and work related. That was until, he noticed how close you and Wanshi were. A little too close for Lee's comfort.

Needless to say, he began to device preventative measures to bring an end to this madness. Doing everything he could to stop the proximity reaching to Zero. He went as far as to slot himself between you and Wanshi, accompany you everywhere, turning down opportunities of contact on your behalf.

Despite the efforts, he was disheartened. Upset, having spotted you sleeping with Wanshi in the training room.

You were fast asleep against Wanshi's chest cushions, all the while, the construct 'slept' in leisure. The fire arms were laying on the ground, unsupervised, and the scent of gunpowder lingered in the air.

There was a heavy feeling in Lee's chest, a set of emotions ruptured from his M. I. N. D., triggering his physical symptoms.

In denial, Entropy questioned himself. Back tracking through his schedule to see if it was something he did or damaged. Did the construct engineering team replaced the wrong gear? Replenished too much vital fluid?

'I must be overloading', Lee thought to himself.

He didn't say anything but went to carefully picked you up in his arms. It would be better to sleep in a bed.

Without a word, Lee carried you back to your quarters. Only to find you, once again, asleep with Wanshi the following night in the training room. Same again on the next following night again and again.

Gritting his teeth by how maddening this occurance was, Lee picked you up for the final time. You were still fast asleep, exhausted from the training.

The same set of emotions swirled in his M. I.N.D. Lingering his gaze as Hypnos, Lee clicked his tougne out of frustration.

"This is our Commandant," he mumbled, "go get your own..."

"... That's not how Strike Hawk works, you surely know that."

Taking a step back, Lee glared at Wanshi. Shifting in his sleeping position, with his eyes still closed, Hypnos gave a yawn before slowly, very slowly, opened his tired eyes.

Lee scoffed at his last sentence. Clearly hiding the embrassment, of his biased opinion being heard.

"Of course I know that," Lee replied, "But what are you doing, always approaching our Commandant?"

Wanshi only look back at Lee with an indifference gaze. Disinterested in engaging an argument, the construct began stretching before laying back down. Shifting, in a more comfortable position.

He closed his eyes and said, "We just so happen to fall asleep here. Commandant just wants to practise aiming."

There was a scene of you mentioning about your shooting skills played in Lee's memory data. During that time, he wasn't in for a small talk, and didn't put your concerns at heart. Thus, it was his own doing for pushing you to seek others for help. Maybe that's why you went to Wanshi instead.

"... Rest assure, I am not stealing your Commandant. I was just trying to help..." Wanshi quickly fell silent, entering into a slumber, he left Lee reflecting on his emotions.

After a long paused, Wanshi spoke up again, "... it's okay to be jealous"

For a split second there was an impulse urge for Lee to point a gun against Wanshi's head. But, Entropy quickly recovered. He gave Wanshi's sleeping form one last look before heading back to your quarters with his teeth gritted together.

******

To recieve a notice on the following morning, Wanshi realised he'd just recieved an offical complaint. Placing the tablet down on the coffee table, the construct just resumed his slumber on sofa.

"Wanshi," Chrome's voice snapped Wanshi awake, "Care to explain why we got an offical complaint?"

"It was just some misunderstanding..." Wanshi replied.

"Is that all you are going to say?" Chrome pressed further.

"It's not much of a big deal," Wanshi said, "just about jealousy."

Looking up at the ceiling, Wanshi gave a small smile before yawning and fall back asleep.

(C) Punishing-eden

#pgr #punishing gray raven #punishing eden #punishing: gray raven #pgr lee #pgr x reader #pgr wanshi #pgr lee x reader #pgr wanshi x reader #Request #one shot

[catboybiologist]

I think I need to stay in anonymous asks for now. This is the first time it's even kept me up at night, I've been able to push it off before because I couldn't deal with it then. Day one. I feel like I'm forcing myself to look for a question to justify accepting an answer I already have. If I were exactly where I am today but a woman instead, I don't think I'd be this uncertain. I think I'd be happy.

Would I be happier if I were pretty? Maybe. But couldn't I be pretty enough if I were happy? Oh my god I'll be thirty next year and I'm worried about being pretty. I can still be a feral gremlin and be pretty. Right?

You're forcing yourself to answer broader questions before addressing the root of your problem. So here's something that helped me work through whether or not I wanted to start HRT.

Forget identity for the time being. Yes, seriously. Are you trans? Are you cis? Woman? Man? Doesn't matter. Pretend those concepts don't exist.

Now, take a look at this:

I'm sure you've ruminated over pages very similar to this one many, many times. But read this in a way that is independent of identity. And then ask yourself: are these changes the exact ones that I want for my own physical body? Take a moment to deeply imagine them on yourself. How do they make you feel?

Stop thinking about what you'll see in the mirror. Stop thinking about what other people will see. The reality is, there is zero way to predict that. In the end, especially years from now, you'll probably pass as a woman- with enough time on HRT, most people do- but you won't at first. Even considering that, is that what you want on your body, for you?

The point here is to reel back the scope of what you're thinking about. You're letting the big questions get in the way of your functional decisionmaking.

At some point, you need to let the concept of identity back in. It could be after reading that, it could be after making your decision about HRT, it could be after starting HRT, it could be after deciding not to take HRT. If you decide to start HRT, and it feels good and right and hits your deeper identity, then you can let the way you feel about it define that identity. If you decide not to start HRT, think about what that means for you. Do you still feel like a woman underneath that all? If you decide not to take HRT and still feel this way, that's perfectly okay- plenty of trans people don't take HRT.

Who you are is not a one line definition. It's a function of a million tiny factors. Guide its development, don't try to force it into a box. Sometimes, it has to develop from the functional aspects of your life, and you can't let the big things define who you are without thought.

[ouatsqincorrect]

After Emma and Henry are sent away because of Pan's curse, and the rest are all taken back to the EF, we see that Regina's obviously upset about it all (the sleeping curse, burying her heart, etc.) . I believe that after not putting herself under the sleeping curse, she spends the next year going through emotional hell. (I'm talking sleepless nights, dreams of reuniting with Emma and Henry only to wake up and realise that she's still in the EF, distraught over missing Henry's birthday for the first time etcetera...). But from all of this heartbreak, she forms a bond with Snow and David, on a far more deeper level than what their relationship already was. The three of them all know how absolutely heartbreaking it feels to give up your child, and because of this, the Charmings spend the year helping Regina through the pain.

This is just a headcanon of mine/me asking you for your own thoughts to add on to this, if you have any. In what other ways does Regina suffer from the loss of Emma and Henry? How are Snow and David there for Regina?

oh anon I’m so glad you asked this. it’s one of my favorite things about them

we see in the actual show that regina’s relationship with snow and david changes immensely during that missing year in the EF. even without their memories, there’s this striking difference between how they acted around each other before pan’s curse and after. and honestly, I don’t think this was an accident. I think somewhere, deep in their consciousnesses, they were aware that the days of fighting and being angry about the past between them were over

and it’s because the instant emma and henry crossed that town line, the three of them were the only family they had left. it’s why regina agreed to go with them back to the castle, and it’s why snow stopped regina from burying her own heart in the woods, and it’s probably why it was just…easier to forgive and move on, you know? why ruin the only family you have left?

plus, you’re right. now they all had something in common: they had each lost a child. and besides neal, they were the only ones around who had experienced that kind of thing so recently

the difference between them though, was that snow could lean on david and vice versa. but regina had to say goodbye to emma too. the person she wanted to lean on was long gone

(regina’s pain during that year is what made snow and david realize she had fallen for emma)

one of them would walk past regina’s room at night, and she’d be calling out for henry and emma in her sleep. sometimes, if it didn’t seem like she was in pain, they’d let her sleep through it. but there were nights when she’d be almost screaming, and snow would go in, carefully wake her up, and hold her until she fell back asleep (when david found her like that, he’d go and get snow. he already begun to have some suspicions about regina’s past, and definitely didn’t want to trigger anything while she was barely awake)

about a month in, david found regina asleep on a chaise, empty potion bottles all around showing she had clearly been trying to figure out a way back (something they caught her ruminating over pretty often) and he picked her up, carried her to her room, and tucked her in. it was the first time he felt truly worried that she wouldn’t be able to move past this (snow had been worried since the beginning)

when henry’s birthday came around, regina locked herself in her room. snow made her some dinner and put it outside the door in hopes that she would eat something. and later on, after spending the entire day by herself, regina knocked on snow and david’s door and ended up crying in their arms for a good thirty minutes

they didn’t talk about this when they finally got their memories back, and they don’t talk about it until years later, after emma and regina are together, and regina feels the need to thank them because who knows if she’d still be here if she hadn’t had snow and david during that year

regina says in the show that the reason she found to keep going was destroying zelena, but I don’t think for a second that that was it. snow and david were, without a doubt, her reason to keep going

#regina mills #snow white #david nolan #david/snow/regina #headcanons

[swan-of-sunrise]

Taking Care of Business (Chapter Thirty-Eight)

Summary: Bo-Katan and Clan Mudhorn track the Mandalorian mercenaries to Plazir-15, but they are recruited by the planet’s strange rulers to sort out an ongoing issue before they can meet them.

Pairing: Din Djarin X Fem!Reader

Word Count: 5.4k

Warnings/Disclaimers: None

A/N: Originally, I was gonna write the entirety of the droid investigation into one chapter but by the time I wrote 4k words, I decided to split it up over two chapters instead lol thank you for reading, I hope you all enjoy!

Chapter Thirty-Eight The Malfunction (Previous Chapter)

“There they are.”

Looking up from the console’s buttons, Din’s brows rose in surprise when he caught a glimpse of the Nite Owl’s one-time stolen fleet; it was comprised of several Gozanti-class Assault Carriers, Kom’rk-class fighter transports, fang-class fighters and the Imperial light cruiser that once belonged to Moff Gideon. Seeing the light cruiser that (Y/N) had nearly died on and where they’d been forced to say goodbye to Grogu again sent a shiver down Din’s spine and although he knew that it was under the command of the exiled Mandalorian, he silently vowed never to set foot onto a ship that held such dark memories for his small family. “That’s quite a fleet.”

Bo-Katan continued to fly the Gauntlet across the clear skies of Plazir-15 as she spared him a brief glance over her shoulder. “It took me a long time to assemble it; most of it was captured from the Empire.”

“I knew they looked familiar.” (Y/N) got up from her seat and crossed the starfighter’s cockpit to lean against the console beside Din. “Could come in real handy taking back Mandalore.”

“Axe Woves is their leader now,” Bo-Katan replied with a small sigh. “It’s going to take some convincing to get them to join us.”

Din watched as the captain bit her lip and remained silent, the look of sympathy briefly crossing her beautiful features causing his heart to thrum in his chest. He was constantly amazed by his wife’s ability to empathize with the struggles of others, regardless of the language and culture barriers she’d often times run into; he remembered how kindly she’d treated the Tuskens and the Frog woman, how selflessly she’d defended the people of Freetown and Mos Espa, and how – despite the recent slew of confusing contradictions – she’d eagerly thrown herself into learning all that she could about the Way of the Mandalore. The conflicts and infighting amongst the various factions of Mandalorians was baffling to her, but that didn’t prevent her from spending their week of searching for the stolen fleet commiserating with the woman who already failed to unite her people once before and who was obviously fearful of failing once again.

Searching for any means of easing the nervous tension in the cockpit, Din asked, “I wonder what they’re here for?”

“This planet isn’t on the New Republic Registry, so I’d guess it’s an independent world that hired them for protection.”

(Y/N) cleared her throat and began fiddling with the frayed edge of her fingerless glove. “Can’t imagine Woves will be happy to see you…”

Bo-Katan absentmindedly nodded, clearly lost in her own ruminations ahead of their meeting with her former forces. “Yeah.” Disappointment filled (Y/N)’s eyes and Din placed a gloved hand atop hers for comfort as the Nite Owl continued. “I’ll land outside the fleet’s perimeter; it’s probably best if we go in on foot.”

Before either Din or (Y/N) could reply, a cheerful fanfare played over the starfighter’s communication radio and was accompanied by an equally-pleasant voice. “Welcome to Plazir-15, the Outer Rim’s only remaining direct democracy. You’ve been assigned a docking slip. You will be guided on the assigned path. Engaging automated guidance.”

The Gauntlet suddenly jolted and began flying towards the planet’s domed city, causing (Y/N) to stumble and Din to wrap a steadying arm around her waist as Bo-Katan slapped a gloved hand on the console’s unresponsive buttons. “What happened?”

“They’ve taken control of the ship.” With a huff of annoyance, Bo-Katan flopped back in the pilot’s seat and looked at Grogu seated beside her. “I guess we’re going for a ride.”

Grogu cooed in delight and bobbed his head along to the music still emanating from the radio, causing (Y/N) to giggle and Din to smile beneath his helmet. In no time, the Gauntlet touched down on one of the city’s landing pads and the ramp lowered on its own accord; they bid R5 goodbye and after exchanging wary looks with one another, the four of them walked down the ramp and began crossing the landing pad. “This is…interesting,” Din commented, forcing himself not to reach for his blaster when he caught sight of the Imperial Death Star and astromech droids positioned by the monorail platform.

“Welcome to Plazir-15.” The RA-7 unit gestured towards the occupied track at the top of the raised platform. “Please proceed to your hyperloop pod.”

As they passed by the Imperial droids, (Y/N) shuddered and looked over at Din and Bo-Katan in discomfort. “Why do they have Imperial droids on an independent world?”

“It’s the Outer Rim,” Bo-Katan replied with a shrug as they ascended the platform and stepped into the empty pod. “Your guess is as good as mine.” Din and (Y/N) sat on one end of the pod while Bo-Katan and Grogu’s pram sat opposite them and once the doors slid shut, the Nite Owl addressed the hyperloop’s automation. “Bring us to the bay closest to the Mandalorian fleet.”

“As per Article Nine of the Coruscant Accords, permission must be granted from High Senate for access to self-defense forces in the peacekeeping zone. Do you grant permission to scan your chain code?”

(Y/N) stiffened while Din and Bo-Katan allowed the automation to scan their chain codes and when she made no move to produce hers, Din’s brow furrowed in concern. “Alor’ad? Is everything all right?”

“…Yeah, yeah, it’s just…” The captain trailed off and silently held out her wrist so that the automation could read the chain code emanating from her arm band.

“Din Djarin, Bo-Katan Kryze and Solia Corrik…” Din’s eyes widened in shock and (Y/N) crossed her arms over her chest as she avoided their questioning gazes. “Your presence has been requested by the leadership of the planetary democracy.”

Bo-Katan gritted her teeth in impatience. “I’m afraid we have more pressing matters. Perhaps at a later time-”

“Please do not attempt to leave the vehicle. This is not a request.”

Without warning, the hyperloop pod shot forward and raced along its track. They scrambled to brace themselves and when they finally succeeded, (Y/N) sighed and finally looked over at Din. “Solia Corrik is the name my mother gave me when I was born and when she died, Solia Corrik died with her; I started going by (Y/N) (Y/L/N) when I fled Naboo – it was safer that way, easier to avoid Imperial detection, and it was what she wanted for me – and I’ve avoided having my chain code scanned at every chance I could, but I never had the heart to officially change my name. I’m sorry that I never told you, Din-”

“You have nothing to apologize for, alor’ad.” Din reached over and held one of her hands while the other caressed her cheek. “If you say your name is (Y/N) (Y/L/N), then that’s what I’ll call you. You respected my Creed without question and called me ‘Mando’ until I finally worked up the nerve to tell you my name, and you deserve the same level of respect.”

(Y/N)’s worried expression softened into a grateful smile and after giving the palm of his gloved hand a brief kiss, she took a glance out of the pod and bit her lip as she studied the domed city they sped through. “I’ve never been here before. Have either of you?”

Bo-Katan shook her head and Din removed his hand from the captain’s cheek to rest it on the handle of his blaster. “I haven’t even heard of it. Do you think we’re gonna have to blast our way out of here?”

“We’ll find out,” The Nite Owl replied, shifting in unease and exchanging a look with Grogu as the pod came to a stop and its doors slid open.

The three of them stood and exited the pod, slowly walking down the stark-white hallway while Grogu’s pram drifted along behind them; Din struggled to keep his hands hanging loose at his sides but he pushed through, his curiosity over the strange-looking planet only slightly overshadowing his cautious nature. The doors at the end of the hallway slid open to reveal a grand dining hall decorated with green ferns and woven tapestries, where beings of all shapes and sizes were seated around a sprawling table and enjoying a midday feast while musicians serenaded them with a gentle tune.

“Join us! Come!” A bearded man dressed in an opulent uniform exclaimed from the head of the table and beamed as he waved them over. “It’s a party, come! Everyone, special guests: Mandalorians! I hope you like secretions. Take a sip-sip! Come, please!” As they made their way around the long table, the bearded man sat back down beside a woman donned in an elaborate gown of blue, purple and pink. Din, knowing his wife’s affinity for fashion, glanced over at (Y/N) expecting to find an awed expression on her face, but his brow furrowed in confusion when all he saw was shock. “It’s truly an honor to meet such impressive warriors!”

Din and Bo-Katan sat on the man’s side of the table with Grogu’s pram while (Y/N) sat in the unoccupied seat beside the opulently-dressed woman, who gave them all a warm smile. “Welcome to our humble home. I am the Duchess of Plazir-15 and this is my husband, Captain Bombardier.”

While the Duchess spoke, Din’s eyes flicked over to Captain Bombardier and he pursed his lips in distaste when he spotted the badge pinned onto the front of his uniform. “Let’s address the bantha in the room,” The bearded man sighed and gestured towards the pin. “I was once a facilities planning officer during the war and thanks to the New Republic Amnesty Program, I was able to help rebuild Plazir-15.”

“You were Imperial?”

“He was,” The Duchess confirmed, resting a comforting hand on her husband’s shoulder before continuing. “Plazir suffered greatly under Imperial rule. My husband came here as part of his rehabilitation; he oversaw the rebuilding of this planet on which my family served as nobility since it was originally settled, and…” She held her husband’s hand and gave him a sweet smile. “We fell in love.”

Captain Bombardier chuckled and reverently kissed his wife’s knuckles. “We fell in love. We did fall in love.”

Watching the happy couple shamelessly revel in their romance, Grogu cooed in delight and the Duchess’ brown eyes lit up as she looked up at Din. “Could I perhaps hold the baby? Please?”

“He doesn’t take kindly to strangers…” Din carefully replied but before he could say another word, the child leapt through the air and landed neatly in the Duchess’ lap; while the royal couple laughed in delight and Grogu happily ate the small fish that the Duchess bribed him with, Din sighed in exasperation and sat back in his seat.

“Pardon me if I speak out of turn, Your Majesty, but was your gown designed here on Plazir-15?”

The Duchess gave (Y/N) a smile while she continued to feed Grogu. “The gown was but my petal parasol was imported all the way from Naboo many cycles ago, an anniversary gift from my father for my mother. When I inherited the royal wardrobe, I had my favorite pieces converted into holograms and the originals put into storage so that their beauty would never fade.” The Duchess quirked her brow as she assessed the surprised captain. “Your surname is Corrik, is it not? Any relation to the House of Corrik?”

“My mother was Lomiya Corrik,” (Y/N) replied, her eyes roving across the elaborate parasol while a melancholy smile formed on her lips. “She kept a record of every piece she ever designed, and this was one of her favorites.”

Beneath his helmet, Din couldn’t help but smile for his wife while the Duchess excitedly raved about the House of Corrik, who had nothing but her memories to remind her of her late mother; it must comfort her to know that her mother’s legacy continues to live on through her artistic creations, he thought to himself, ignoring the twinge of guilt as he recalled how her mother’s treasured journal had been lost in the blast that destroyed the Razor Crest so many months ago.

“In fact, Naboo helped to inspire Plazir’s transformation!” The Duchess explained as Din refocused his attention on their conversation. “You see, it was time for our planet to move into a new age. We held direct democratic elections for the first time in our history.”

Captain Bombardier nodded. “We are both royals and elected leaders.”

“And the Mandalorian privateer warships docked in your fields?” Din inquired.

“Oh, we hire them for protection; our charter forbids us from having a military because of my husband’s Imperial past.”

“But because of this, all of our resources go to growth and the people,” The bearded man added and gave (Y/N) a smile. “We also take great pride in preserving our planet’s history.”

Bo-Katan, trying her hardest not to lose patience with the eccentric couple, sat forward in her seat and clasped her gloved hands together. “I’d like to speak to these ‘privateers.’”

Captain Bombardier exchanged a brief glance with the Duchess. “That can be arranged…there is just one condition.”

“What?”

Din rolled his eyes at the not-so-subtle way the bearded man gestured towards the balcony and cheerfully announced, “You really must see the view. Right this way!” The other guests curiously watched them stand and Captain Bombardier waved them off. “We’ll just be a moment! Enjoy your meal, don’t get up! Let’s show our guests the view.”

“We have a problem,” The Duchess lowly explained as they walked towards the balcony overlooking the domed city.

“A droid problem.”

Din’s brow furrowed at the mention of droids. “What kind of ‘droid problem’?”

“Malfunction.”

“A coordinated malfunction-”

“We think.”

(Y/N) frowned in confusion. “What makes you think that?”

“The planet’s Imperial droids were reprogrammed for peace.” The Duchess’ words were tinged with a subtle accusatory tone as she gave her husband a knowing look.

“I can assure you they were completely rehabilitated for peaceful purposes exclusively.”

“We thought.”

“They were, my love, I personally oversaw the program!”

Din interrupted the couple’s light squabbling to ask a clarifying question. “What kind of malfunction?”

“I mean, nothing too serious at first. Unexpected power cycles, deleted task stacks…”

“Then it got worse.”

“Traffic accidents, heavy equipment failures leading to injury-”

“Assault.”

Din stiffened while (Y/N) raised an incredulous brow. “Assault?”

The Duchess nodded and Bo-Katan shifted her weight as she addressed the royal couple standing before them. “Respectfully, what does this have to do with us?”

“Our constables are ill-equipped to confront battle droids-”

“Battle droids?” Din’s heart dropped into his stomach, the only things keeping him from spiraling into the painful memories of his parents’ deaths being the sound of Grogu’s worried coos and the weight of (Y/N)’s hand resting on his bicep.

Captain Bombardier hastily shook his head. “Uh-uh-uh-uh, former battle droids. They’ve been rehabilitated for civic duty.”

“We thought.”

“They were.”

“Obviously not.”

Bo-Katan’s jaw clenched in annoyance. “The Mandalorian garrison outside your city walls can make quick work of your battle droids.”

“That’s just it. Our charter forbids any standing army from entering our city,” The Duchess explained as she gently caressed Grogu’s wrinkled head. “Our constables aren’t even allowed to carry blasters.”

“But you allowed us to be armed.”

“Exactly!” Din and Bo-Katan exchanged a look as Captain Bombardier continued. “The people have voted that we are a pluralistic society. You are Mandalorians; weaponry and armor are intrinsic to your culture, are they not?”

Din nodded. “They are.”

“…You see where we’re going here?”

The Nite Owl smiled despite her obvious exasperation. “You want us to eliminate your droid problem.”

“Exactly!” The Duchess beamed at them. “I knew you would help us!”

“Hold on there, Your Majesty. We didn’t agree to help you-”

“Please, Princess Kryze, Your Grace. This is not intended to be a work of charity.”

Bo-Katan’s nostrils flared as she struggled to keep her emotions in check. “Unlike my brethren outside your city walls, I am no mercenary.”

Captain Bombardier bowed his head in deference. “Apologies if that is the impression I gave. What I intended to convey is that I would hope that this ‘excursion’ would be viewed as an act of diplomacy between our two planets. In fact, Plazir-15 would formally recognize Mandalore as a sovereign system and petition the New Republic to recognize it as such.”

“The mercenary captain, Axe Woves, indicated that he split from you because you had designs on ruling Mandalore once again,” The Duchess added.

“…Those plans have been abandoned.”

The bearded man merely shrugged. “The offer stands nonetheless.”

Pursing her lips, Bo-Katan turned to look at (Y/N) and Din. “What do you think?”

“That having the support of both Nevarro and Plazir-15 will reestablish Mandalore’s political influence throughout the Outer Rim and signal to the New Republic that it deserves to be recognized as a sovereign system,” (Y/N) replied, crossing her arms over her chest as she considered the royal couple’s offer. “Politically, it’s a smart move that will only benefit Mandalore in the long run.”

The Nite Owl, impressed by the captain’s diplomatic answer, turned her attention to Din. “And you?”

“You had me at battle droids.” Her lips twitched as he gave her a small shrug.

“Then it’s settled. The three of us will investigate and eliminate your droid problem.”

The Duchess beamed in happiness and Captain Bombardier clapped his hands. “Thank you, Princess Kryze! There’s just one small thing to address before you begin.”

Bo-Katan’s gloved hands briefly clenched into fists. “Yes?”

“You and Din Djarin are Mandalorians, but Solia Corrik here is unfortunately not; if she will be joining you on your mission, then our charter forbids her from carrying any weapons into the city.”

Flinching at the casual use of her birth-name, (Y/N) nodded and began to reach for her blaster but Din’s hand shot out to stop her. “Alor’ad, wait. I think you should stay here at the palace with the kid.” His wife opened her mouth to protest but Din took a step closer and lowered his voice so that only she could hear. “(Y/N), I lost both of my parents to Separatist battle droids. I don’t wanna lose you and Grogu to them, too.”

(Y/N)’s expression softened in understanding and she nodded as she holstered her blaster and the Duchess spoke up. “Rest assured, your companion and the baby will be well taken care of while you complete your quest.”

“Thank you for extending your hospitality to my family, Your Majesty,” Din replied, bowing his head in respect and reaching forward to pat Grogu’s head. “Be good for our hosts, kid. Bo-Katan and I will be back before you know it.”

The child released a quiet coo and when Din turned back to the captain, she rested a hand on the beskar covering his cheek and gave him a small smile. “K’oyacyi, ner kotep beroya.”

Din’s heart warmed in his chest at his wife’s traditional Mando’a farewell: Come back safely, my brave bounty hunter. He leaned his forehead against hers in a brief Keldabe Kiss and placed his hand atop hers. “Ni kar’tayl gar darasuum, ner cyar’ika alor’ad.” After she gave him one last smile, he forced himself to step back and turn to a pensive-looking Bo-Katan. “Ready to fix a droid problem?”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Din and Bo-Katan were instructed by the Duchess to pay the city’s command center a visit so that Commissioner Helgait, the elderly head of security could brief them on the city’s ongoing struggles with their reprogrammed Imperial droids. The command center was filled with rows and rows of monitors displaying live security footage from all across the domed capitol city and from what Din could see, the people of Plazir-15 seemed content with their lives governed by direct democracy, albeit too reliant on their droids. None of them would be in imminent danger if they didn’t rely so heavily on droids to keep the city running for them, he thought to himself, a surge of the old familiar distrust of all droids causing his jaw to tightly clench.

“These droids were all reprogrammed to serve the community from the stockpile of captured Imperial robotics scheduled to be scrapped at Karthon.” Commissioner Helgait sat at his desk and pressed a series of buttons on its surface to pull up several archived security tapes. “The droid’s reprogramming was a complete success…until one day, an isolated event…” A garbage disposal droid was shown erratically flinging a rubbish can’s contents across an alleyway. “Then others. This is just a small collection of malfunctions that our security cameras caught.” The next footage to play depicted a B1 battle droid hurling a woman’s shopping bags, a chauffeur droid speeding through a crowded terminal and intentionally crashing a land-speeder into a wall, and a cook droid in a bustling restaurant attacking frightened patrons with knives.

“Turn them off.”

Commissioner Helgait looked over at Bo-Katan, who was staring transfixed at the monitors before them. “What?”

“Why not turn them all off? Who’s in charge of that?”

“I am,” The elderly man replied with a shrug. “There’s a fail-safe cutoff switch built into the system. However…”

In an incredible show of self-restraint, Din suppressed his frustrated sigh. “What?”

Commissioner Helgait chuckled humorlessly. “The citizens voted against any interruption in droid services. They can’t live without it.”

“And why’s that?” Din asked, already knowing the answer to his own question but allowing the head of security to speak.

“The citizens are no longer required to work and can spend their days engaging in recreation, the arts, and participating in our direct democracy. If we shut down the droids, our citizens wouldn’t know how to survive.” Commissioner Helgait sighed to himself and shook his head. “Our society would collapse.”

Bo-Katan tilted her head in confusion. “Then what do you want from us?”

“To seek out and decommission any remaining rogue droids, until we can fix the problem.”

Exchanging a wary look with Din, the Nite Owl heaved a small sign and nodded. “Give us the list.”

“Well, for that, you’ll have to go to the lower level and speak to the Ugnaughts.”

Din instantly perked up at that. “Ugnaughts?”

Commissioner Helgait nodded. “Ugnaughts.”

After thanking the head of security for his assistance, Din and Bo-Katan stepped into the elevator and traveled down to the city’s lowest level; his past friendship with Kuiil gave him an insight to the Ugnaught’s skills as droidsmiths, recalling how Kuiil had managed to revive and reprogram IG-11 to act as a nurse droid instead of an assassin droid. Shaking off the wave of sadness he experienced whenever he thought about his fallen Ugnaught friend, Din clasped his hands and remarked, “See what happens when you rely on droids?”

Bo-Katan’s brow arched in curiosity. “Are you taking this personally?”

“Just pointing it out.”

“Let’s just finish this so we can be on our way.” The elevator stopped and when its doors slid open, they stepped out into a bustling workshop and watched several Ugnaughts hard at work performing maintenance tasks on decommissioned and reprogrammed Imperial droids. “I am Bo-Katan Kryze. Which one of you is in charge?” The Ugnaught droidsmiths kept their attention on their work, so the Nite Owl forced a patient smile and tried again. “We were sent on behalf of the Duchess and Captain Bombardier to help you with your droid problem. Hello?” Again, none of the Ugnaughts acknowledged her words or their presence in the workshop, and Din huffed a quiet chuckle at Bo-Katan’s growing annoyance as she turned to look at him. “This is going nowhere.”

Instead of answering, Din took a step forward and loudly addressed the workshop. “I am Mandalorian Din Djarin, friend of Ugnaught Kuiil.” The droidsmiths finally looked up from their tasks as he continued. “You will answer our questions and help us with our task. I have spoken.” The Ugnaughts left their work unfinished and gestured for the both of them to join them at one of the workshop’s tables; Bo-Katan shot Din an impressed look as they took their seats and nodded respectfully at the droidsmith who handed her a cup of broth, politely taking a sip while Din spoke. “Thank you for your hospitality and for sharing your table with us. We were engaged to hunt down and eliminate the malfunctioning droids.”

“There are no such droids.”

The workshop was silent until Bo-Katan set her cup of broth down and rested her elbows on the tabletop. “You may not have heard the news down here, but your droids are wreaking havoc in the world above.”

The same Ugnaught smiled wryly. “There is not much of which we are not aware; these halls are the central nervous system of the city. I assure you, the droids are not malfunctioning.”

The Nite Owl blinked in confusion at the Ugnaught’s flippant tone. “Citizens have been harmed by these malfunctioning machines.”

“This is not the case. I have spoken.”

Din bit his lip, wishing that (Y/N) were there to employ her more natural talent for diplomacy; since she wasn’t, though, he took a deep breath and followed his wife’s example. “We’re not in any way suggesting that your work is to blame. The stories of Ugnaughts’ skill with smithing droids are legendary. We know that Ugnaughts are considered the hardest working species in the galaxy and we, like you, have been engaged with a task to perform. We will investigate the dangerous incidents, but we would appreciate your help.”

After considering his words, the lead droidsmith made a gesture towards his comrade and when he handed him a holo-disc, the lead droidsmith placed it in Din’s open hand. “Here are the locations of the droids you seek.”

“Thank you.” Din bowed his head in respect. “We are in your debt. I have spoken.”

The Ugnaughts nodded and watched them walk across the workshop, where they entered the elevator and traveled back up to the highest levels; neither of them spoke until they were seated in the hyperloop pod, looking out at the darkened night sky and admiring the twinkling lights of the domed city as they sped by. “What was that back there?”

“I’ve spent time with Ugnaughts.” Din shrugged and sat back in his seat. “There’s a particular way to communicate with them; accusing their work of malfunctioning is an insult.” He looked down at the holo-disc and scanned the Aurebesh printed across its surface. “Now, they’ve indicated that there’s a likelihood that the next event will be at the loading docks.”

Bo-Katan hummed in interest. “How sure are they?”

“Hard to tell, Ugnaughts always seem sure of themselves.”

The Nite Owl chuckled. “Well, it’s the only lead we’ve got so we might as well have a look around.” They fell into a comfortable silence and after a short while, their pod slowed to a stop at a bay overlooking the crowded loading docks. Exchanging a look, they exited the pod and made their way down a series of staircases, and a chill went down Din’s spine at the sight before them; B-2 battle droids, the same ones responsible for his parents’ deaths, were carrying cargo boxes to and from various ships and transport speeders, and their labor was overseen by several B-1 series battle droids. Although Din was relieved that (Y/N) and Grogu were safe in the palace, he couldn’t help but long for their comforting presence as he struggled to keep the memories of that terrible day at bay. “I haven’t seen battle droids since the Clone Wars.”

Din gritted his teeth. “I have.”

“Any of ‘em look suspicious?”

“They all look suspicious.”

Bo-Katan didn’t reply, his cryptic words hanging untouched in the air while they stepped down onto the dock and approached the nearest droid foreman. “Halt. This is a restricted area. You are to vacate immediately.”

The Nite Owl gave the stern droid a polite smile. “We have a few questions.”

“Show me your identification, please.”

“We’re here on behalf of the Duchess to investigate the droid malfunctions.”

“Yes, I saw the reports.” While Bo-Katan and the droid foreman talked, Din strayed off to where the battle droids marched in a single-file line and studied their imposing forms as they passed him by; he waved a gloved hand in front of one’s face and saw no reaction, but he merely repeated the gesture with the next droid in line. “Rest assured, I’ve had the entire line of loaders undergo maintenance protocols as a safety measure. The, uh, certification is on file. I wouldn’t do that if I were you!”  

Din glanced over his shoulder at the droid foreman, unperturbed by its warning shout. “Why’s that?”

“Well, as a precaution,” The droid foreman carefully explained. “Their base function was warfare.”

“I thought they were just checked out.”

“They were-” Without waiting for the droid’s full reply, Din gave the next battle droid in line a hard kick; predictably, it merely staggered a little before returning to its place in line and carrying its cargo box to a nearby ship. “Uh, what are you doing?!”

“Then this shouldn’t faze them,” Din shrugged before kicking the next battle droid that passed them by, taking some pleasure in his rash and potentially dangerous experiment.

“Uh, sir? Excuse me! Sir!”

The next battle droid in line immediately stumbled when Din’s boot connected with its leg and dropped its cargo box but after it picked itself up, it suddenly back-handed Din across the dock and took off running. Groaning in pain, Din scrambled to his feet while Bo-Katan fired her blaster at the fleeing battle droid and sprinted after it, quickening his pace once he realized that they were dangerously close to the city streets; he could hear Bo-Katan running behind him as the battle droid knocked over a stack of rubbish and while he jumped over the makeshift obstacle, the Nite Owl propelled herself into the air to avoid the scattered mess. The alleyway opened up into a crowded street and frightened citizens screamed as the battle droid barreled through them, and Din and Bo-Katan were forced to shove their way after it.

Illuminated by the colorful neon lights of the various shopfronts, the imposing battle droid stopped to pick up a cargo box and throw it at them; Bo-Katan activated her jetpack to fly beneath the cargo box while Din dropped to his knees and slid on the smooth stone that paved the street. His body ached in protest but he pushed on, racing to catch up with Bo-Katan as she pursued the battle droid down another alleyway; the moment they emerged from the alley and stepped onto another street, they were forced to drop to the ground to avoid a power unit hurtling straight towards them, which exploded in a ball of fire as they scrambled to their feet and ran after the fleeing droid.

“Keep going!” Din shouted to Bo-Katan before peeling off and sprinting down the less-crowded adjacent alleyway; the battle droid passed the next opening before Din could reach it, forcing him to run into a cantina to continue his pursuit. Patrons shrieked in fright and darted out of his way as he charged through the cantina and when he caught sight of the nearest window, he seized the opportunity and dove straight through it; he tackled the battle droid and they landed on the street in a flurry of shattered glass, and he scrambled to draw his blaster as the battle droid jumped to its feet. But before it could attack, several blaster shots rang through the air and the destroyed droid collapsed onto the street to reveal Bo-Katan holstering her weapons.

“Are you all right?” The Nite Owl asked as she crossed the street and helped Din stand; when he gave her a breathless nod, her shoulders relaxed and they watched four constable droids surround them and the lifeless battle droid and project holographic crime scene barriers to keep any curious civilians away.

“This is a crime scene. Thank you for standing back. This is a crime scene. Thank you for standing back. This is a crime scene. Thank you for standing back.”

They both looked down at the battle droid’s sparking remains and Bo-Katan crouched to retrieve a rectangular object fastened at its waist. “I found a spark pad.”

Din’s brow furrowed beneath his helmet. “What’s it say?”

“‘The Resistor.’”

“Sounds like a droid bar.”

When Bo-Katan stood, she flipped the spark pad over and arched a brow before showing him the Aurebesh printing. “And there’s an address.”

The Nite Owl started down the street and with an exasperated sigh, Din ignored his aching muscles and followed after her. It was going to be a long, long night.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

Mando-a Translations:

Alor’ad-Captain K’oyacyi, ner kotep beroya-Come back safely, my brave bounty hunter Ni kar’tayl gar darasuum, ner cyar’ika alor’ad-I love you, my darling captain

A/N: Like I said last week, we’re having work done in the house and it’s been difficult finding time to write, but I’ll hopefully have the next chapter up on time! Thank you all so much for reading and commenting! Oh, and I’ve created a Spotify playlist of all my favorite music from the world of Star Wars, so if you’re interested in checking it out the link is down below!

Spotify Playlist: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/2KuSKJhVOPPvxdJ9YHeo4M?si=2977ff31bf0c4bdd

Chapter Thirty-Nine

Taking Care of Business Masterlist

Tagging: @remmysbounty​​​​​​ @sinon36​​​​​​ @seninjakitey​​​​​​ @thatonedindjarinfan​​​​​​ @ginger-swag-rapunzel​​​​​​ @mostclevermiss​​​​​​ @momc95​​​​​​ @welcometothepedroverse​​​​​​ @sarahjkl82-blog​​​​​​ @elinedjarin​​​​​​ @itsnottilly​​​​​​ @crowleysqueenofhell​​​​​​  @goldielocks2004 @wondergal2001​​​​​​ @groovy-lady​​​​​​ @impala1967666​​​​​​ @fluffy-canada-pancakes​​​​​​ @icee228​​​​​​​ @siimiasoi​​​​

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