#this slightly got away from me!

[hinamie]

yeah sorry theyre tragic in this au too

jjk atla!au with @philosophiums

[b4kuch1n]

siren

[nevertheless-moving]

unable to stop dwelling on the discworld trouser leg of time where, in the penultimate fight scene in Nightwatch, Carcer manages to kill teenage Sam Vimes.

Which means that the future that Duke Vimes came from can no longer exist, which means he can’t go home. Meanwhile you’ve got a bunch of history monks with stored up temporal energy, a prepared space outside of time, and the need to do some desperate damage control before the Auditors get involved. Death shows up, reality is unweaving, Sam is reading Carcer his discworld miranda rights because what else is he supposed to do.

and finally, with little other option, the monks de-age Sam so he fits the time period and send him back out into the fray.

(they didn't call it deageing of course. His memory is hazy, splintered during that terrible in between moment, They....took the time out of him? Sanded away the edges of his self for a terrible, workable fit? It...wasn't a good feeling.)

Just—damn. Sam Vimes having to live his whole crapsack life over again, but this time as his disillusioned-reillusioned, unwillingly-character-developed, noir-epic, Duke of Ankh, Commander Sir Samuel Vimes self. 

Younger (Older? He's never felt so Old, His steps so Childlike, reality twisting in his gut like one of Dibbler's pies) Sam Vimes walking around in a haze after the revolution. Desperate to go home, knowing he can’t. Wanting to drink. Knowing he can’t.

The whole precinct feels pity, he really took Keel’s death hard, hardly speaks except to do his job. Eventually he has to grit his teeth and start being present, because what else is there to do?

Resists the urge to drink until Colon takes the whole watch out to celebrate because -he’s going to be a father!

Come on Sammy, one drink won’t kill you— and after the first drink he’s cracking jokes and after the second hes smiling and after the third hes honestly the life of the party and sometime after that he’s crying about how he was going to be a father and my wife would be ashamed if she saw me drinking like this and— 

Oh shit, Did anyone else know he had a wife?? A PREGNANT wife??? What—aren’t you like 12—no you're 17 now aren't you but when did—

You guys n’ver met ’er—oh gods none if you ev’n know ‘er, is jus’ me...

What—when did you lose—

I lost her the same damn day I los’ ev’rythin else, whadya think...bleeding Carcer...the fuckin revolution...

So! That! Sam only vaguely remembers the night, but rumors travel faster than light on the disc, so by the next day the whole damn city knows about poor Sam brung low by the loss of his poor, tragic, pregnant wife, so young to be a widower, and the Seamstresses nod because they already knew, don’t ask them how, somethings you just have to know in that trade.

And his mother—I don’t know, sue me, I’m a time travel fiend but there’s something deeply intriguing about a man meeting his dead parent, who is somewhat younger than him, and stepping into the old relationship like a badly fitting thing that's supposed to fit well. She would know, right? How would she deal with her son’s impossible grief? Maybe she wouldn’t know—he spent most of the time out of the house, running with different street gangs, maybe he avoids her until she dies and lives with the guilt twice over. God, we don’t even know her name. There’s just so much narrative and emotional potential that I don’t even know where to start.

When he’s on duty, which is most time - it’s agonizing because at first he remembers cases, saves lives that would have been lost. But the more time passes, the hazier his memory because in the original timeline he was becoming an alcoholic. Fuck! A kid dies and he could have saved her if he hadn’t been such a drunk, if he had just remembered where the asshole lived, but it’s all a haze, and he wants to drown out his guilt, but that’s what caused this in the first place.

Good young Sammy, who spends his rare off-time in dusty libraries (and yes, the irony that he’s apparently Carrot now is not lost on him) reading gods-only-know.

It’s not like he can ask the wizards for help, cutthroat and vicious as they are now in the not-so-distant-past.

Good young Sam, who...talks to the Broken Drum’s pet Bouncer like he’s a real person and not a dumb rock? That’s a bit weird, but he’s a bit of a funny guy.

Good old Sam, who believed the testimony of the dwarf who said the humans were trying to rob him and let the dwarf go??

the PROBLEMS this man would cause, good grief. Can you imagine a moderately progressive middle aged man with some degree of begrudging diversity and equity training that he did, for all his sins, pay attention to, suddenly going back to like, 1990, going back just 30 years, and going...oh damn this is kind of fucked up, no man you can’t say that, holy shit.

Except Sam’s lived through even more rapidly shifting social moroes! There’s no seamstress guild, there’s no women allowed inside the university, there’s no black ribboner’s society. People hunted trolls for their teeth! But Sam can’t just unlearn everything, and he can’t shut up, and he has no real luck and anyway he would absolutely get himself (temporarily) fired.

FUCK. Sam has no idea what to do with that. None. Zero clue. Wanders around in a haze until that dwarf he saved from police brutality finds him and insists on repaying the debt. No, he insists, do you have any idea what debt means to a dwarf?

“Sort-of?” he replies hesitantly, and that honest admission of incomplete knowledge shows a hell of a lot more respect and understanding than any self proclaimed dwarf-expert ever did.

Gets a job as a surface man, hauling rocks into the city. It’s backbreaking work, but, in true Discworld fashion, it’s also one hell of a workout (again the irony of being Carrot is not lost him. he freezes for a minute while hauling a rock cart, when he remembers he's technically Lost Nobility too, in a strict sense, but someone curses at him in the street and he's comfortingly grounded)

And here is where this au slides into a SPECTACULAR romantic comedy, BEAR WITH ME. Because in his time on the Watch he’s already done noir, action adventure, war story, detective who dunnit, psychological horror, but guards guards only allowed him to be a romance protagonist in an extremely limited context.

Give me righteous, twenty-something-looking, can’t-say-he-doesn’t-have-style, young Sam Vimes, not an alcoholic,  being fed three square meals a day by his dwarven forced found family, hauling rocks. He is startled to find him bumping his head on a low hanging bar that he doesn’t think used to be there, eventually realizing that he’s an inch or two taller than he remembers. Huh. Guess all that bearhuggers really did stunt his growth.

Still doesn’t get what some of the looks from women he’s getting are about, sure, he’s dirty but so is everyone else. Fine, he took his shirt off, but it’s hot out, there’s far wrinklier than him hauling heavy loads, get a life. 

Happens to glance in the Ankh one day when it’s particularly slow and shiny and is startled to realize that he might be turning heads for a different reason. Oh. Right, not that he was ever a heartbreaker, but he did alright for himself... when he was a younger and his face hadn’t been broken so many times. Which...it isn't now.

Is mildly disturbed by the revelation.

Especially once things blow over at the precinct and what with high mortality rates, he ends up with getting hired again. The boys are delighted to have him back, nevermind that he’s an odd one, noone is ever quite in your corner like Vimsey, absence makes the heart fonder, no one else works that hard, and he’s not even competition for promotion. All around great guy, we should set him up with somebody and just, no.

It just keeps getting worse! He’s literate! He’s a feminist! He believes abuse victims! He’s got a tragic backstory! He’s unreasonably good in a fistfight! He’s kind to animals! Word gets around that there’s a good man on the watch and he’s just waiting for a good woman to come snap him up. The widower excuse doesn’t hold people off completely, and for some it’s its own sort-of appeal. 

Things REALLY become stressful after he rescues that carriage full of noblewoman.

What’s he supposed to do? Let them get robbed? Or worse? Chasing down and beating up 10 goons is as easy as beating up one, when they’re that stupid, getting separated like that, drunk and distracted, and he knows these streets better than anyone, really it’s nothing. And oh lord he’s Modest too.

I mean, they were genuinely greatful, as genuine as people like that are capable of being, the skill having grown rusty. And then there is something...magnetic about the man. An air of command.

So, soon enough you get Lady Marigold of Marigrave calling on Treckle Road for that gallant young officer who rescued them, she really needs to thank him. And Viscountess Elanor Thitzferal specifically requesting that he guard her at her next soiree. And Baroness Julieta van Shoeholten insisting that he come to her home while her husband’s away, for... manly protection.

Aaaah just zero sympathy from the guys. None. 'It’s become a competition, they’re just trying to see who can get me into bed first, it’s like I’m a piece of meat, you can’t send me sir, the Marquess greeted me in a nightee last time you made me go to—' and 'small gods Vimes are you even listening to yourself, shut the hell up'.

Simultaneous to this, (again this is several years into the timeline) swamp dragon accessories come into style. Which means abandoned swamp dragons scrounging on the street. Vimes takes one back to his apartment, blows his paycheck on dragon medicine, and eventually, heart in his chest, brings it to the Ramkin estate. The sunshine orphanage doesn’t even exist yet and he’s just standing outside the gates like an idiot, what is he thinking. Turns around, but her carriage is pulling up and—

well. they meet. it's cute. he's never felt so young. he's never felt so old, too old for her, too poor—

and certainly her thoughts linger too long on the awkward, kindly, handsome young commoner, but is it any wonder she doesn't quite connect it to the stern, dangerous, sexy young guard the ladies seem to be in some quiet, cuthroat competition over?

i have this gorgeous, absurd scene in my head in which Vimes is strong armed into standing guard at some high society soiree and one of the pushiest ladies insists he dance with here, or, if he prefers, if he's not confident about his skills, he can dance with her in-private at her home and he’s like [grinding teeth, looking for a way out, seeinf one] “I would be honored to dance with you.”

Steps right into some ultra-complex dance with multiple partner swaps (she never thought he'd pick this one, devilishly intimidating to one not strictly trained, and you barely spend anytime with your first partner).

But he does alright. Better than alright, for a common man, sometimes misstepping but his hands and feet always end up where they need to be. Raises several eyebrows part way into the song because he's throuwing in some slightly scandalous, no innovative, extra lifts and twirls that wouldn't become fashionable for another decade or two. Who even is that guy? Some out of towner? No, no he's in a guards uniform...how very strange.

Gets to Sybll and she's used to embarrassment during these dances, she tries to get out of them when she can... but can't always. Men awkwardly skipping the lifts, or worse, trying and failing. But him — oh it's him, the one who helped little Erold, and looked at her like—like—well like she was someone beautiful. And he's doing it again, and he's strong and there's a quiet moment where she's in the air, they lock eyes, and the rest of the room melts away.

And then the partners change again, the moment ended.

Just...living throught it all again. To the left, a dance he almost knows the steps to, throwing others off balance with erratic moves , honest mistakes, and delibrate stepping on toes. Improvising. Ruining. Improving. Getting far, far too much attention.

Hes almost excited when the first assassains start coming after him. It's like a hobby.

Everyone tells him he should get a hobby.

Interactions with young vetinari...I don't have the energy to write it all down, the slow circling in on each other, both burning with the need to fix the city, save it, their city.

needless to say he ends up fired again, life under real threat after offending some high lord.

Conveniently enough he has an employment opportunity- bodyguard to fucking Vetinari on his 'grand sneer.' The bastard knows vimes isn't what he seems, though sam is pretty sure that he doesnt know the exacts.

Vetinari hypothesis:(the ghost of keel? Keels son, with some hereditary curse? Or a larger spirit of justice possessing a string of unrelated souls? He knows things he shouldn't- mind reader? Fortune teller? Havelock once arranged for a wizard to bump into him on the street, the magical fool gave an odd double look and then muttered something about destiny looping in on itself giving him a headache. Destiny? Lost noble? And hes far too familiar with sybyl, one of the few bearable noblewomen in this city. And his thoughts on guilds, when havelock can trip him into speaking... Most of all, if hes reading him at all correctly (for all the mystery hes not that hard to read, unless thats a very clever cover) then it seems that behind those dark haunted eyes is Respect. Loyalty. For vetinari. What an interesting man. A puzzling asset. An intriguing threat. )

Did I mention the timeline is changing, healing slowly around the place where it was torn? Healing enough around scars to perhaps get some flexibility back, with some painful stretches and...massaging of said scar tissue?

And hes heading to unresting uberwald, a place where a werewolf pack still hunts humans and, truely unrelated but perhaps equally exhausting, an eldritch spirit of vengeance just might be looking to stretch its legs in a hapless vessel?

Opening drabble Vimes Vetinari Meta (Unwell) Scene from the Uberwald Grand Sneer

[nyatbinary-81]

@vulpixisananimal sifstem art jumpscare!! more specifically i got bored and decided to mess around with sif and mal's outfits.

[phoenixcatch7]

Reading loz/lu fics and it's just so interesting how wide the spectrum is of their personalities.

Sometimes it's got an in universe reason (different past (usually gender or species change), recent or ongoing traumatic events, a spectacularly bad first meeting), but sometimes (often) the characters are just... Weirdly angsty or peppy, there's no in between!

And I'm beginning to think less people have played more than one game than I thought XD.

Not that it's anyone's fault! One game is more than enough to be part of it all, and loz is exclusive to Nintendo consoles - and all the older stuff is frustratingly hard to get hold of. Heck, I'm still looking for wind waker, and that was really popular! And then you have to play it! They're not small games!!

But could people writing wild please ease off just a tiiiiiny bit so he can be a semi functional member of society pretty please XD? He's just as much a polite boy as any other member of the chain! He won't even run in shops! He can't attack npcs! He talks to every single person he's ever seen and remembers every single name. Yes, he's three quarters woodland creature with a hefty amount of trauma but he's also a fashionista who managed to avoid accidentally taking sides in a mayoral election and that's not easy!

[hiccbae]

more domestic hiccstrid bc i love them and i miss them terribly :’)

[dailypav]

Pav digging straight down in Minecraft

Drawing Pav every day until he's playable: Day 84

aw fuck

[queerofthedagger]

Do you ever think about the chaotic posibilities of Hob inocently slidding Dream a cup of coffee and saying its a gift😄 only for Dream to blue screen because oh shit a gift??? From Hob??? Hob Gadling is courting me?!!! I must reciprocate!!!! At once!!!!

Cue Hob being drowned in gifts from Dream of the Endless and being incredibly confused but he’s not really complaining

Oh my god I LOVE this, the potential of totally harmless, actually really sweet miscommunication would be so goddamn on brand for them like. Dream stressing for a week straight over returning the gift but it supposedly being something of equal value so that he doesn't come on too strong, but coffee being. kind of hard?? To estimate?? Cause on the one hand yeah, sure, it's just coffee!! On the other, Hob clearly means something by it, it means something to Dream, and he simply cannot just return that by like, either crown jewels or a bouquet of poppies, Matthew, it must be approppriate!! Meanwhile Hob's just confused as all fuck when there's suddenly a feast laid out on his kitchen table one random Thursday morning in May with Dream being the equivalent of an overly-excited-and-also-super-repressed-puppy standing in the corner like 🧍🧍🧍

[wehaveagathering]

jesus christ charlie

[cuteniarose]

The consequences of my poor financial decisions are here!!

[goodgriefwhatanerd]

For anyone else who's not a fan of the holidays for whatever reason, here are some ways to try to hide from the dreaded holiday spirit with your f/o(s)

Put your Halloween decorations back up. If you really need to make some acknowledgement of Christmas then just put a Santa hat on one of the bats and that should be more than sufficient.

Invent new and cursed hot drinks, mixing together things the gods never intended to combine. Someone challenge my chocolate-mint-mocha-chai-latte for deranged combinations that actually work.

Drown out the Christmas music by singing together loudly and badly wherever you go.

Especially if you have a monster f/o, consider doing the above with Lovecraft themed carols, because yep those are a thing.

Lock yourselves away for a week baking the most elaborate tiered cake themed after something ridiculous; the selective breeding of brassicas, the evolution of the printing press, your or your f/o's most embarrassing memory, the sky is the limit.

Discover that due to your lack of baking skills, the cake is inedible. Have a food fight with it instead.

Repeat the previous two steps until you're either bored or have an edible cake.

Repurpose some baubles into a giant bead lizard. Argue over where to hang it up. Sneakily change its location whenever the other isn't looking.

Go to a Chinese restaurant and have a sword fight with chopsticks. Get banned from the restaurant.

Have a romantic evening eating fish and chips at the park instead. Get attacked by seagulls.

Or just picture your f/o's face as you read out this weirdo's suggestions to them.

[rosykims]

my boyfriend and all of our male friends are so excited that im playing rogue trader + subsequently getting into warhammer but i dont have the heart to tell them im SPECIFICALLY playing for the breedable hot men. like. dont leave me alone with the figurines lol bc im going to pookify them thats a promise not a threat

[soupmanspeaks]

silly salvaged and its greg interviewing everyone (all the animatronics) for a marketing class at school or something

[moreaugriffins]

Imagine Peter getting a call in the middle of the night

him thinking it's probably Ray getting excited about a definitely haunted hairbrush, and letting it ring

eventually picking it up as it continues to ring for a few minutes, only to find out it's Egon's wife

She's stressed, and worried, and Peter isn't sure why she's ringing him

But Winston isn't picking up the phone, and she knows that Egon and Ray have been arguing a lot recently so...

But she's worried

Because Egon's not doing well. He hasn't been sleeping much, or taking care of himself much (which Peter had noticed every time they went on call together), he's been muttering weird stuff, and obsessed with his notes and books, and usually she can help stop him spiralling but he's been pulling away recently, and spending less time and home and-

"He hasn't come home yet"

Egon always comes home, they made an agreement years ago. He's never broken the agreement before

So she's worried

And Peter is too

He knew Egon wasn't doing well, but they were men in their 40s, Egon wasn't a child, he could look after himself, and it was not Peter's job to monitor him. If Egon was struggling, he could speak up. He knew he could come to his friends for help

Then his mind casts back to the time in uni when Egon tried to drill a hole in his own head, how it all started just like this: the sleepless nights and obsessive studies, and pulling away from everyone, even skipping his lectures.. Peter and Ray just about got there on time.. Though Peter joked about the incident now, he's still rattled by it

He's still pretty rattled by many of Egon's vaguely suicidal experiments

He says he'll go look for Egon (after all, she's got a toddler to keep an eye on)

Reassures her that he's fine, that it'll all be fine, he probably just hyperfocused on the proton packs or something, you know how he is

It doesn't reassure her much - he doesn't even believe his own words either, but what else can he say

After the call, he heads to the Firehouse, knowing that if Egon was anywhere, it would likely be in the lab. It was practically the scientist's second home

He storms up to the lab (the place felt eerily quiet. Janine doesn't work at night anymore, Winston has his own home, and Ray has his flat above his shop)

the light is on

that's something

He opens the door, expecting to see Egon in a chaotic state (or god forbid...), and to be fair, the room is an utter mess, with books open, numbers and scripture written on the whiteboard, a pile of empty Twinkies packets around the bin stuffed full of crumpled papers

and in the middle of this mess, is Egon, head in hands, book open in front of him. It's subtle, but he can see the rise and fall of his shoulders

at least he isn't dead (he ignores how worrying that thought is)

He goes over to Egon and whacks him over the top of his head - usually an affectionate gesture from Peter (the affection is slightly lost)

"Come on Spengs, you really leaving your wife at home?"

Egon looks up at him, brows furrowed, and a practised guarded expression, though his eyes gave away the deep exhaustion and paranoia the scientist must be feeling

If it were Winston, he'd know the exact thing to say to Egon, a talk on how his actions are making his (Egon's) wife feel, and to get his act together, with the reminder that everyone was here for him

If it were Ray, despite all the arguments the two had recently, Ray would comfort him, know the exact words to calm the man and ground him back in some sense of reality - those two understood each other on a level like no other

But it was Peter here, right now

And he's not good at emotional conversations or situations. A serious conversation makes him feel like he's going to break out in hives. It's easier to joke than deal with emotions. (that's why he and Egon got on well. Neither liked talking about how they feel)

So when Egon replies with ramblings about Gozer, clearly lost and not in his right mind, Peter makes a couple jokes, he deflects from Egon's worries and brings the man down to the kitchen to make a hot chocolate to calm Egon's mind (that's what they used to do, right?)

There's more talk, mostly from Peter, about some studies he's working on (that are mostly accurate), and how Dana and Oscar are doing, and the show because oh boy does he have a story about that one man who believed he could communicate with fish-

Egon is barely engaging, Peter could see, his mind is elsewhere, running at a million miles an hour, doing complex calculations and making connections. Peter didn't envy the man really - it must be difficult having a mind so clever and loud.

So when he can tell the talking isn't working, he asks "We defeated Gozer, remember? when my girlfriend was turned into a dog, and Stay Puft got the biggest commercial for free, and we crossed the streams. He's gone forever, right?"

Egon seems to come back to reality for a moment, and they stare at each other, before Egon nods slightly and finally takes a sip of his hot chocolate.

Peter eventually drives Egon home, selfishly because he wants to keep an eye on his friend for a little longer, but Egon doesn't utter a word. That's fine. The silence makes Peter's skin itch but it seems to be doing Egon some good.

They arrive at the house (the living room lights are still on), and Egon goes to leave the car, but Peter reaches over last minute, his mouth moving faster than his brain, "All you gotta do is ask, if you need help. We're still your mates, yeah? I don't know what goes on in that brain of yours but you aren't alone."

Egon seems to be mulling something over in his head, then pulls away from Peter's grip - "Goodnight Peter." - and heads inside.

Over the next few weeks, Peter keeps an eye on Egon

He seems to slowly get better

There are no more phone calls from Egon's wife (except one to talk about what happened that night), his eyebags seem to fade away, he talks less about Gozer, the notes disappear and the books are put neatly away or are packed up, and most importantly he seems to be arguing less with the group and making an effort to spend time with them

Then he's gone

and all the equipment and Echo 1 are gone too.

[stormyoceans]

what do you think happened on morkday's shopping trip that cause day to wander off the streets by himself? i think he was tryna get help after seeing mork get beaten up...?

OKAY SO. first of all im already gonna apologize because instead of giving you a short and direct answer like any normal person would, im taking this chance to present my entire theory about what's gonna happen. please scroll down to the tl;dr at the end to save yourself from my clownery ;;;;;;

that being said, here's what i think the timeline is gonna be. the trailer has shown us a shot of mork wearing an ankle tracker, so i think everything starts with this:

it's still hard to see even if i've brightened it up a little, but here you have phorjai crying and mork behind bars wearing his mechanic clothes. i think before our story starts, mork did something to land him in jail, most likely for beating someone up like it's hinted in the trailer. i also think mork going to jail is the reason he and phorjai break up: he probably thinks she deserve better, and as much as she loves him, it's hard to be with someone who's not there. at the beginning of the show, mork probably gets paroled (hence the ankle tracker), which however comes with two essential conditions: 1) finding a stable job, and 2) good behavior. people aren't very inclined to hire an ex-convict tho, so mork keeps getting rejected

it's probably why mork barged in so aggressively when he thought they weren't allowing him to take an interview: if he doesn't get a job, he's gonna go back to jail. and that's when he meets day. day who can't see the ankle tracker around his ankle (and probably wouldn't care about it even if he could) and who isn't put off by his rough behaviour

so mork gets a job and manages to stay (mostly) out of trouble, until at some point he and day are out shopping and the worst happens: someone probably ends up provoking mork in some way, or maybe even tries to go for day, and even if he should know better at that point, mork reacts. badly. and beating up someone (which is what most likely landed him in jail the first time) in broad daylight in a public space with tons of people as witnesses is very much the wrong thing to do

i honestly wouldn't be surprised if someone called the cops and mork got arrested once again. now think about day in this situation. day who can't see what's happening and who we know, from the oishi honey lemon 0% sugar video we got, doesn't even have his cane to help him walk around because he was fully relying on mork's guidance. he's suddenly gonna find himself completely alone amidst the chaos, in a place he's not familiar with and with no way to tell where he should go or where mork is (and isn't that gonna make mork feel so devastatingly guilty)

so yeah, tl;dr: i think during the fight mork and day are gonna get separated, and day is gonna slightly panic trying to find mork again and navigate the place without any type of guidance

[jmrothwell]

Is this okay? It's more than okay.

Peterpatterlina?

The humidity had reached a point where it was impossible for Julie to determine how much she was actually sweating from the near endless trekking through this jungle. All she really wanted was to sit down and rest. However after learning this place had literal carnivorous flowers that wouldn’t hesitate to eat her and the incident with spiders she didn’t dare stop and risk getting left behind.

Not that she thought Reggie and Luke would purposefully leave her behind. But she was already trailing behind. Only getting further behind  with every trip and stumble, not yet as adept at traversing the terrain as the other two. 

How long had they been trapped here? They looked to be about her age.  

She yelped as her foot caught on yet another root, stumbling forward, her wandering thoughts flying out of her head as the ground quickly grew closer. 

An arm around her waist stopped her, and pulled her back against a warm body. A quick glance told her she was in Luke’s arms. 

“You ok?” Reggie asked, face full of concern as he stepped closer into her space, all but trapping her between him and Luke. His hands hovered as his gaze drifted over her. 

“Yeah, yeah fine.” She said, trying to hide out of breath she was and a little glad the heat would hide the blush burning along her cheeks. “How much more are we going to walk?” 

“Not much farther now.” Luke said, releasing his grip and staying behind her as Reggie led the way. 

Julie followed along hoping she wouldn’t have to try and remember how she got here in the first place, since everything looked the same to her. Eventually Reggie stopped at a large tree in a particularly barren portion of jungle and began climbing up a set of tangled up vines. 

Julie's eyes traced up the vines to what must be their home, little more than a dilapidated ruin of a treehouse. At least from down here that’s what it looked like. 

Thankfully, Luke didn’t need much reassurance that she could handle climbing up what essentially amounted to a rope ladder without any assistance. Further grateful that he kept his snickering and any further offers of assistance to himself. Despite how much she struggled she was going to do this herself. Besides she did not want to find out what compromising position she’d end up in if she couldn’t do this herself. 

Only compromising positions quickly became her only thought as she entered the treehouse and realized how much smaller it was than she guessed. Definitely smaller than her bedroom back home, as she squeezed herself into a corner to try and stay out of the way, as Luke and Reggie moved about the space. 

“Sorry it’s not much.” Reggie said with a shrug, as he glanced around. 

“Really it’s just the bed, if you can even call it that.” Luke added, with a sheepish nod toward the assorted fabrics and piles of what Julie had to assume were leaves that took up a good portion of the floor. 

“Is this okay?” 

“It’s more than okay.” She said, unsure what she even would have done if they hadn’t come along. Certain she very much owed these two her life a hundred times over by now with all the ways she could have wound up dead. “Definitely better than ending up dead or eaten alive, anyway.”

She grimaced as her forced laugh did nothing to try and turn her phrase into a joke. If anything Luke and Reggie’s faces crumpled even more and it broke what tenuous grip Julie had on powering through her situation. She hadn’t even realized how close she had been to crying so focused on following Luke and Reggie to some sort of shelter. 

They quickly wrapped her up in a hug, whispering apologies against her hair as her crying only grew worse. They didn’t say it out loud but she could hear it in the finality of their tones. They all were as good as dead in their current situation, trapped in a jungle with no way of getting out or contacting home. 

All they were doing now was prolonging the inevitable on the slim hope someone else could pull them free.

Julie’s grip tightened on their arms as she willed those nefarious thoughts out of her mind. Luke and Reggie had survived this long, however long it had been, she could too. 

She would cling to that small hope of rescue for as long as she could just as tightly as her nails dug into their arms.