#‘well if yer gonna keep it we gotta build something to keep it alive. it aint gonna last much longer outta water like that son’

[technicalgator]

Pyro is one stubborn son of a gun, ain’t he?

one of the tf2s idc which one but theyr encountering a fish

i think pyro would enjoy sharks

[internalsealpanic]

I Will be Your Tim Drake for Tonight (2) (Jason Todd/ Reader)

Summary:  Preferring to do anything but your physics project, you decide to accepts Tim’s proposal. It’s simple. He does your project, you try to figure out whether Jason Sionis is criminal. Easy, right?

masterlist

A/n: This takes place in a world where Jason is adopted by Black Mask. Inspired by Building Interest by Zoeleo.The events and characterization in this story are very heavily based on Zoeleo's Long Term Investment series. It is fantastic and I really highly recommend all of her fics.

a/n: For clarification, Reader does have psychic powers but it only lets her sense people's emotions physically. No mind-reading. Her power is more like an overactive sense of empathy which may force her to dissociate into someone else.

There will be violence and mentions of alcoholism (used as coping mechanism for physical pain) and chronic pain.  

As for the additional warning, an animal is harmed but it is barely described. I could not bring myself to actual describe it but the aftermath is described.

I also just converted this from an OC so I apologize for any grammatical mistakes.

Without further a do:

The ride was less than comfortable. Outside the more affluent districts, Gotham's roads were atrocious, bumpy, pothole-ridden death traps. Based on how bumpy it was, you suspected you were close to the docks. A minute into the death trap, you decided to pull Jason's head into your lap to cushion it from further damage. The problem was his face was still covered in vomit and now so were your trousers. This evening was gonna stretch on for an eternity.

By the time you thought of the 19th way Damian was gonna tell you how incompetent you were, you arrived. The doors opened, stepped in, extracted you, and hauled you like sacks of potatoes.

You look over to Jason who finally stirred to what seemed like consciousness.

"Hey, are you-"

Jason snarls breaking free of his captors and launching himself at the man who shot Lizzie. They were down on the floor. Jason on top wailing on the man. His knuckles getting bloody. Logically speaking, you should stop him or at least try. On the other hand, Lizzie's death still stung. There was also a brutal efficiency to his strikes each landing where it would hurt the most. Wait. How the hell is he even out of his cuffs? You make a mental note to practice getting out of handcuffs or to at least get pointers from him.

It takes a surprising amount of time before they actually restrain him again. It was either from shock or they just really didn't like their coworker. The man on the ground is wheezing and bloody when another takes him away.

They tie them to a post.

You let out a heavy sigh riggling against the rope. "You really do excel at being a pain in the ass, don't you?"

"It's just my dazzling personality, sweetheart."

"Ah yes, the one that won you an all-expenses-paid trip to this wonderful Gotham warehouse."

"You're here to dipshit."

You open and close your mouth to protest, to say something snarky but he was right. You decide to stay silent.

"You're worth a lot of money, right?" Jason asks, breaking the silence with a level tone.

" Uh, the guy I'm dressed up as is, yeah. Why?"

"You're not Tim Drake?"

"According to my birth certificate, no.  But they don't know that so can it. "

"You're going to die." Jason sighs on the opposite side of the beam. You can't quite picture his sharp features into something soft but you like the idea.

" Thanks, sunshine. "

"Unless you can pull a plan out of yer ass-"

"I do have a plan." Kind of.

"Well let me hear it, genius." He jeers, tugging on the ropes so he can turn to you. From the corner of your eye, you can see him looking at you intently.

"Sit here and wait."

Jason blinks at you trying to process what you just said. "Great. Wanna make tea cozies while yer at it?"

Your nose scrunches up indignant. "Still working better than yours. At least, I don't have a concussion!"

"Got any more salt you want to rub in my wound, Tom?" You can't see it but you can practically feel him roll his eyes.

You full-on snort laugh at the comment. You definitely blame Dick for your affinity to shitty jokes.

"Well-"

"So which one of you is the Sionis kid?" the man asks, pointing a gun at them.  

you and Jason try to look at each other.

"Don't lie." The man adds hastily. This is probably his first abduction. You felt kind of bad. Part of you even wanted to give him a few tips.

"Brilliant idea. They'll definitely answer." The man behind him snarls rolling his eyes.

"Shut up, Larry."

The men continued to bicker leaving their hostages mildly bewildered.

 What would Tim do? Tim wouldn't be in this situation. Wait. Yes, he would. I'm giving him too much credit .

You decide negotiation is your best option.

"He's the real Jason Sionis. " You said flatly leaning your head towards him.

Jason looks at you incredulously. He looks betrayed but his face is too hardened and jaded for it to show fully. Unfortunately for both of you, You could feel it oozing off of him.

"How do we know you aren't lying?" The first man says pressing the gun to your forehead. You can still feel the trembling in his hands.

“I have my driver's license on me. My wallet. It's in my coat pocket.”

The man reaches into your coat pocket and pulls out Tim's wallet.  Your skin begins to prickle uncomfortably from the close contact.

" Ha! See. It worked."

" Yeah. Yeah. So what do we do with this kid?"

"I can pay you to let me go!"

"How do we even know he's worth anything?" Someone shouts from faraway.  

"Mo's gotta pretty good point."

"Did the $2000, puke-covered suit not give it away?"

"Nah, it's the puke-covered $1000  dress shoes." Jason quips more venomously than you anticipated. His sarcastic grin was still etched with the barest hint of betrayal.

You death glare him but you couldn't really tell him 'Don't worry I just need to call my vigilante brothers to help you.'

"Ok, ok, those are also  good points."

"Plus, haven't you heard of Drake industries?"

"What do you do? Make ducks?"

"No, you idiot. They- Never mind. How do we know you're good for it?" Larry hisses.

"We really should ask the boss first."  Mo pipes up again.

As if on cue, a large man clad in black and a scowl that would make anyone wither.

You vaguely recognize him from one of the cases Tim was working on but no name comes to mind. Bryan? Brent? Something along those lines.  

“Let me call my family. He'll even let you see him sign the check.” you plead as sweetly as you can.

The man in charge looks at you making you shrink.  On a good day,  you’re a decent fighter given you have your cane, you weren’t sloshed, and the man you’re fighting isn't built like a goddamn brick wall. Right now though even as they untie you, you can feel yourself trying to curl up.

But as much as you want to, you need to make it out alive. If for nothing else than to spite your youngest brother.

"Please. Jus- just one phone call."

Giving you another appraising look, he hands you the phone. Does he know? Are your freckles finally showing through the makeup? You shake your head but the shiver doesn't go away.

It's good for your acting , you tell yourself.

The phone rings. You breathe deep listening to the dial tone. For your sake and possibly Jason's,  you have to keep a level head. The place smelled of seawater. The building was big and barren with little to nothing in it. By the looks of it, it was one of Gotham harbors 'rare' abandoned warehouses. You look around, making sure to fidget. It was dark but you could see a 13.

"Hello, who is this?"

Fuck.

A/n: Thanks for reading!

[ddixons-angel]

Fated: Season 3

Summary: Gloria Rhee narrowly escapes Atlanta with her brother as the outbreak reaches the city. Luckily, they find a camp outside the city and together, they fend through encounters with the living and undead.

Starts a little before Season 1 and then follows the main storyline of the show.

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Glenn Sister!OC

Warnings: major TWD spoilers, language, violence (the typical TWD stuff), attempted sexual assault

A/N: Here’s another chapter for you guys! I hope you like cliff hangers haha the next will be up on Friday~

Chapter 3

The night air was cool and crisp as Gloria sat on top of the picnic bench, staring off into the courtyard as the stars twinkled above her in the clear night sky. The groans and snarls of walkers in the far distance were drowned out by Daryl’s footsteps as he made his way to the bench, a bottle of water and a plate of food in his hands. He sets the plate and bottle on the table and sits down beside Gloria. 

“Brought ya some dinner, Carol made it.” Daryl says when she doesn’t greet him.

She glances at him, “thanks...” she says in a small voice. 

“Ya alright?” he asks, looking at her with concern.

She nods, “with how everything’s going, I gotta be.” 

“Wha’ d’ya mean?” Daryl frowns, confused.

“When you guys wheeled in Hershel like that today, everyone panicked, no one knew what to do. I had to step up and take charge.” She sighs, “I’m glad he’s fine now, but I hate how much pressure it puts on me that I had Hershel’s life and literally his blood on my hands.” 

Daryl looks down at her hands, noticing that she didn’t bother cleaning any of the now dried blood off them. He takes the red rag he keeps with him out of his back pocket and grabs the water bottle, opening it and pouring some water on the rag. He takes Gloria’s hands in his and starts to wipe the blood off, trying to clean her hands and arms as best he can. Gloria doesn’t say anything nor does she resist, she just watches him. 

“Ya shouldn’ have that kind of pressure on ya. I get why ya do, but I wish ya didn’ have to.” Daryl says, not looking up at her as he continues wiping.

A small smile pulls at her lips, “thank you. I’ll be okay though, it’s what I signed up for when I decided to become a doctor anyway.”

“The world is different now, ya don’t gotta be a doctor anymore.” Daryl tells her.

“If I didn’t do what I did today, Hershel would have died!” Gloria snaps at him, her emotions taking over her.

“Well he didn’t ‘cause o’ what ya did.” he says as he looks at her in the eyes, “ya can do yer job but forget the burden that comes with it.” 

“I really wish it were that easy,” she sighs and looks down before continuing, “when I worked in the hospital, the doctors always felt a sense of responsibility for their patients and whenever anything went wrong, or in the worst case that they died, they’d carry that with them for the rest of their lives. But that never stopped them from doing their jobs and trying to save others.” 

She smiles sadly and wipes a tear away from her face, “I should just suck it up. Hershel’s alive and I should be happy instead of moping around like this.”

Daryl wraps his arm around Gloria’s shoulders, “ya don’t have to hold onto that burden yerself, ya got me to lean on if ya wan’.” he tells her shyly. 

Gloria looks at him, smiling at him gratefully then leans on him, her head on his shoulder. They sit together in silence for a moment, the only sounds being crickets and groans from the walkers outside the fences. 

“I don’t want ya goin’ anywhere near Cell Block D,” Daryl starts, “we found some prisoners in the cafeteria today, lettin’ ‘em stay in that cell block, but they’re-”

“They’re dangerous, I know.” Gloria finishes his sentence, “like you said before, I’m not a nurse anymore, I’ve got no reason to help prisoners. Especially if they’re a threat to us.” 

Daryl nods, “I heard one of ‘em say they were in put in here for murder.” 

“Why didn’t Rick just kill them, then?” Gloria questions.

He shrugs at that, “Guess it’s ‘cause they haven’t done shit to us yet.” 

“It’s only a matter of time before they do,” she sighs and she feels Daryl nodding in agreement, “are you gonna be near them?”

“If I gotta be.” Daryl says simply.

“Be careful.” Gloria tells him to which Daryl hums in acknowledgement. 

Another moment of silence passes by them as Gloria’s words of concern remind Daryl of his conversation with Glenn just a few hours ago. He chuckles at the memory making Gloria look up at him, an eyebrow raised as she looks at him questioningly.

“Ya know, yer brother talked to me 'bout ya today?” Daryl says with a side smile.

This news causes Gloria to groan as she sits up, “God, he didn’t give you the big brother talk, did he?” she asks in embarrassment.

He chuckles at her reaction, “Nah, he just said that if I did anything to piss ya off ya’d kill me.” 

“Well, he’s not wrong.” Gloria smirks then lightly nudges him, making him scoff at her. 

Daryl glances behind him, remembering that he brought Gloria dinner, “hey, ya haven’t eaten at all, have ya?”

She blinks at him then shakes her head, “I forgot, I guess.” 

He shakes his head as he takes the plate and passes it to her. She gratefully takes it and starts to eat, humming happily at the meal. 

“Ain’t it cold by now?” Daryl eyes her as she eats.

“It’s Carol’s cooking, it’s good even if it’s cold.” she grins at him and Daryl rolls his eyes at her. 

“We should head back in when ya done, it’s gettin’ late and chilly.” he tells her. 

Gloria nods as she eats, enjoying the food and company of Daryl. It isn’t long until she finishes her dinner but she doesn’t say anything, wanting to spend a little more time with him outside under the stars. She couldn’t deny it anymore, her feelings for him were growing more and more as each day passed. 

---

The next morning, Rick, Daryl, T-Dog, and Carol all went out to the courtyard to clean up the bodies of walkers. Daryl looks around for Glenn but doesn’t see him anywhere. 

“Yo, where’s Glenn, could use some extra hands.” he questions to no one in particular.

“I think he spent the night in the watchtower.” Carol tells him.

“Watchtower?” Daryl looks at her then up at said tower, “Yo, Glenn!” 

The others look up at the guard tower as they see movement in the windows. A shirtless Glenn comes out of the tower, awkwardly struggling to zip up his pants. 

“H-Hey guys!” he says, completely embarrassed, “w-what’s up?” 

“Ya comin’?” Daryl grins.

“What?” Glenn says as he pulls on his shirt.

He chuckles then repeats himself, “Ya comin?” 

“Oh, y-yeah! Hang on!” Glenn, now fully clothed, rushes down the guard tower to help the group clear the bodies. 

Gloria walks out from the prison building, making her way to the fence as she watches the group load up bodies onto the back of one of their trucks. She waves at Daryl who’s now sitting on the back of the truck as they start driving out of the courtyard to dispose of the bodies. He raises his arm, waving back at her. Gloria watches them leave then wanders around the prison walls. She frowns as she spots a shadow going around the corner of the prison.

“Carl?” she calls out, wondering if it was the boy sneaking around the place as she knew how much he loved to explore. 

When she doesn't get any response, she rounds the corner but gets even more confused when she doesn’t see any sign that anyone was here. Gloria tilts her head in confusion, there wasn’t even a walker in the area. 

“Did I really just hallucinate?” she chuckles at herself. 

Shrugging, she decides to go back to the picnic bench and sit there to wait for the others, but before she could turn around, she feels something move quickly behind her. Unable to react in time, Gloria feels a blunt pain to the back of her head. Her vision goes blurry and she falls to the ground and blacks out. 

---

When Gloria comes to, she finds herself in a cell. The back of her head thumps with a dull pain. Getting up, she looks around and finds that the cell wasn’t hers. In the hallway outside the cell, there are people talking, or rather yelling at each other, voices that she couldn’t recognise. 

“We shouldn't be doing this, Tomas! Just let the girl go!” 

“Shut up, Oscar! You’ll get a chance with her too, so don’t worry, yeah?” the man, Tomas, sneers at the larger man, Oscar.

“Yeah, we deserve this anyway. Those assholes think they can just come in here and take our cell block from us like they own the place? Hell nah! They owe us this much at least!” another voice chimes in.

Oscar shakes his head, “this still isn’t right...” 

Judging from their conversation, the men outside were the prisoners Rick had found in the cafeteria and the girl they were talking about had to be Gloria. Instinctively, she reaches down to grab a dagger from her belt but finds that her belt had been removed from her. Looking around the cell, she finds it empty as well. She’d have to rely on her fists with this one. 

“Finally awake?” Tomas says as he walks into the doorway of the cell, blocking light that was coming into the cell. 

Gloria looks up at him and recognises Tomas as the man who smirked at her the day Rick had found them. Knowing that she’s outnumbered, Gloria decided it was best for her to play dumb. She nods at his comment and gets up from the bed. 

“Yeah, now that I’m up, I’m just gonna head back to my cell block. Thanks for helping me out there.” Gloria forces a smile on her face and attempts to walk past Tomas.

Of course, he doesn’t let her through, holding an arm up to stop her from moving further, “I don’t think so.” 

Gloria looks him dead in the eye, not showing any fear of the man, “please, don’t make me have to hurt you.” 

Rather than taking her words as a threat, Tomas laughs at her, amused. His laughter causes the smaller man on the outside of the cell to also snicker. 

“Oh princess,” Tomas shakes his head, “you ain’t gonna do nothing to me.” 

Her blood boils when he challenges her and doubts her words. She lets out a small breath and quickly swings her arm, punching Tomas in the face, making him stumble back. Gloria’s about to walk out of the cell when she hears the cocking of a gun. She looks to the smaller man and sees that he’s holding a gun to her. Tomas snarls as he gets back up, wiping the blood from his now split lip with the back of his hand. 

“Oh, now you’ve just pissed me the fuck off, you bitch.” Tomas glares at her, rage and fury in his eyes. 

She looks at him then glances at the man holding the gun to her and she just laughs, “you two are just pathetic, you gotta rely on a gun to take me down, a girl no less. What kind of men are you?” 

Gloria knew that provoking them wasn’t the smartest thing to do, hell, she knew it was probably one of the dumbest things to do since they were holding her at gunpoint. Something inside her though told her that the man with the gun wasn’t going to shoot her, they didn’t want to kill her, they wanted to do ‘other’ things to her and they couldn’t risk doing that with her dead. From what she learned in the past, she had to get them riled up and angry because people generally didn’t think well on their feet when they were angry. 

“I’ll show you what kind of man I am.” Tomas growls at her then quickly lunges towards her. 

He tackled her with all of his body weight so that even as Gloria tried to push him off her, she wasn’t able to as he was too heavy. Fuck, she did not expect this. She landed with her back on the bed and Tomas on top of her, gripping her wrists with one large hand, he pins her arms above her head, making it even harder for her to move under his body. 

“Fuck you! Let me go!” Gloria screams, struggling and squirming from under him.

Tomas growls as she struggles, as if her struggling only excites him more. He forcefully leans down and starts roughly kissing and biting Gloria’s neck and chest, causing her to scream more.

“Tomas, stop!” Oscar shouts from outside the cell, but he’s unable to do anything else as the man with a gun points his gun at him. 

“You shut up, or I’ll have to shoot you too!” he threatens. 

Oscar watches helplessly, feeling guilt as he anxiously looks to the door of the cell block, “come on, Axel...”  

---

Next Chapter

And we’re left with a cliff hanger! Please don’t hate me~! You’ll get the new chapter this Friday! Please let me know what you thought about this chapter and how you think the next one will go~ I love hearing from you guys!

I hope everyone stays safe and healthy, please don’t panic, we will get through this!

And as always, I would really appreciate any comments left for me! I’ll be replying to any comments in a new post because this is a sideblog!

Taglist (please let me know if you’d list to be added/removed!):

@twdeadfanfic​ | @fandomfanatic97​ | @crossbowking​ | @watchmeaspire​ | @spidergirla5​ | @kamieshep​ | @letsstarsfalling​ | @molethemollie​ | @alicewinchester99​ | @neilox​

[meowdymista]

An Interestin’ Fella in the Swamp

Word Count: 1454

Warnings: Swearing, mention of rape

Notes: I feel like there’s more to Bill than we see in the game, and this is to fix that

Masterlist

***

Finally. Bill was wondering when he would show his face in camp again. Taking a swig from the beer bottle, he watches Arthur dismount out the corner of his eye. He’s fussing over his horse, feeding it sugar cubes from the palm of his hand as he pats the thick sturdy neck.

“How can a man - a real man, ah mean - truly express his passion wi’ such delicate creatures?” Mac had slurred one night. Bill remembers the heat of the whisky in his cheeks as he drank in the gleam of red in the Scot’s stubble. “Ah’ve never understood the appeal.”

“Me neither,” he had replied, surprised by his own sincerity. “Them boys gettin’ distracted… it’s unprofessional. There ain’t time for love in this game. All you can hope for is one good fuck, y’know? When it takes me, I want to be able to lose myself in it. I want to fucking fuck, for fuck’s sake! Not worryin’ about messin’ her hair, or whether or not she’s gonna slap me afterwards.”

Mac had looked up at him then with heavy lidded eyes. “Ye ever fucked a man, Williamson?”

Tossing his bottle aside, Bill strolls up to the campfire where Arthur is helping himself to a bowl of stew. The only other man in camp with a temper like his own (besides Micah, of course) - he doesn’t understand how he’s never put it together before.  Women have always looked so small - so comically fragile - besides his thick build and broad shoulders. 

“Bill,” he greets with a nod.

Bill suppresses a smirk. Better practice my name, cowpoke, ‘cause I’ll have you screaming it tonight. He shakes himself mentally. No, he tells himself. Keep to the facts.

“I met an interesting fella in the swamp,” he says coyly, “Real interestin’.”

“Did you?”

Mac had known plenty of interesting fellas - years of discreet probing had paid off with connections to previous finds. The more Bill had tested the waters, the better he learned how to maneuver through them, and with Mac he had been able to spin a web of various “interesting fellas” across various states. Of course the web wasn’t made to spread this far west, but an introduction with that Alden in Rhodes proved fruitful. With a couple of helpful hints, Bill had found himself out in the Bayou, accepting the dinner offered by a fella called Sonny.

“Ain’t this a fine place? An interesting place, the best of places. Is it land, or is it water? Can’t make up its mind, no siree… I can’t make up my mind about things neither.”

“Sure! He seemed to know all about you!”

Arthur doesn’t react. His skills of discreet probing have been gathering dust since that first night with Mac, but he’s already started the ball rolling. He can’t walk away.

“I mean -” He clears his throat. “-all about you.”

“Get outta HERE.”

He chuckles quietly, holding his hands up in mock surrender, ready with his smooth speech about how men gotta do what they gotta do, but a second look at the man is a punch to the gut. His eyes are cold grey steel - and the look is all too familiar.

He hasn’t seen such venom in months except in the wake of Micah’s taunts. It is barely bridled fury - the last warning before the bull is released from the pen to wreak havoc. They were the eyes of man scorned - a hetero on the defence.

Bill drops his arms to his sides and walks away. He braces himself, but no hit lands. He’s grateful for that at least... but also disappointed. A fist fight was his favourite way to get the blood pumping, especially when it was to decide who would dominate. Fellers around here were too submissive.

“I’m peculiar. Folks always say so.”

Well, interesting fellas always were peculiar in some way. “Queer”. Didn’t that mean strange?

“You wanna- you wanna play with Sonny? I like playin’.”

He risks a look back over his shoulder. The tin bowl lies face down, it’s contents splattered over the grass. Arthur is nowhere to be seen.

“I’ve always wanted a friend like you… and I can tell you want a friend like me... ain’t that so?”

Taking up guard duty, he keeps a cigarette between his teeth until dusk. When Javier turns up to take over, he can’t help but ask - “Hey, you seen Arthur?”

“Why? What shit you started now?”

“Who said I started shit?” he snaps.

“Tilly said he didn’t look too happy when she saw him earlier. Karen said he almost sent Mary-Beth flying he marched off so fast.”

“Why’s that my fault?”

“They said he was fine ‘til he spoke with you.”

“What hae ye said tae Mac, Williamson?” Davey grabbed him by the lapels and shook him. “Ye talkin’ shite aboot us?”

“What are you talkin’ about?” he growled, shoving the younger brother off him.

“Th’ two o’ ye hae bin actin’ weird ever since ye got back fae scoutin’ New Austin! Dunnae lie!” The infamous vein was popping in his neck. Other members of the gang stopped their chores to see who picked the latest fight with the honey badger brothers - and not for the first time, found Bill on the receiving end.

“I don’t know what you mean.” His heart fluttered nervously in his chest as he caught the eyes of onlookers. He couldn’t lose this gang - the tribe of Van der Linde’s meant more to him than his life ever had. He could live with the taunts of being slow and dimwitted, but not this. Not something so fresh and vulnerable as the truth. “Davey,” he added quietly. “I would never talk shit about neither you Callender boys. Anything I have to say, I’ll say to your faces-”

“What secret are you sharin’ then, Williamson? Cuz we never keep anythin’ fae t’other.”

After digging around camp, he finally finds Arthur resting on the shore, twitching the fishing rod and cursing the lack of bites. Suddenly, he picks up a large stone and lobs it into the water, his throw too dull to skip it as it plops under the surface with a large splash.

“Ar-Arthur?”

His head snaps around, blue eyes still blazing as he scoffs. “Bill.”

“Arthur, I’m- I’m real sorry.”

“What for now?” he grunts, reeling in the line impatiently.

“About Sonny. The feller in the swamp?"

“You know a momma gator eats her babies? My momma never ate no baby…  Your momma ever ate a baby?”

“He was…" Bill forces a laugh, trying to reduce the tension in his shoulders, before sighing heavily. "I'm sorry. It was none of my business. I didn't expect you to… to take it like you did. An' for that I'm real sorry."

"How else was I s'posed to take it?"

"Shit, Morgan, I don't know!"

"Just how the hell you meet that creep anyway?" he demands, turning to face him as he puts his rod away.

"Same way as you! I was just passin' by-"

"Same way as me?" He scoffs again, spitting over his shoulder. "Yer a damn liar, Williamson. How'd you meet him? Really?"

"What? I can't speak to strangers now?"

Arthur's eyes flash. "If you met him the same way I did, you'd have a lump the size of an egg under your hat."

He doesn't know what to say to that. The sad, embarrassed shake of his head tells him there wasn't a reply worth making. "I'm sorry, Arthur. I didn't know that he'd- I thought that you'd- that it was-"

"I know what you thought." He sighs heavily, turning to watch the sun set under the water. "At least I'm alive, I s'pose. Better'n bein' found by you.”

“I’m gonna go back, teach him a lesson for messin’ with yer when you didn’t- well. When you wasn’t-”

“I already fed him to the gators,” states Arthur, his mouth twisting like the words taste sour on his tongue. “I… I can’t say I regret it. Maybe I was too hasty-”

“He was a strange one, Morgan. No one will miss him.”

“Yeah, well, it also didn’t feel enough.” The glint in his eye is simmering now. Not an infuriated bull but a snake sizing up its victim - and then he takes a deep breath. “I shoulda taken him up to the Skinners, but they’d’ve recruited the bastard most likely...”

“I ain’t gonna say nothin’ to no one. ‘Bout all this?” Arthur nods in agreement. “An’... I’d appreciate it if you didn’t tell anyone about… y’know.”

“I know. I know, Bill.” A weight lifts off his chest as the blond pats his shoulder on his way past. “Ain’t nobody’s business but ours. Stay safe, Williamson.”

[lady-lyrjok]

Buried in Bones: It’s not a Stretch to Say...

I wrote another one!

I got a request to explore Stretch as he nearly falls during our time stranded in Echo with G. It’s a long one so I’ll have to leave most of it under the cut. Need context? This is the events beginning at the end of Chapter 47 in On Top of the Bone Pile but from Stretch’s POV.

Warnings!

Contemplation of death

Hallucinations/Panic attack

Depressed and panicked boy is depressed and panicked

Previous

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

“honey don-!!!!”

A blinding light filled the machine room. Stretch dropped to the floor with a curse and covered his skull. As fast as the light appeared it vanished.

“nooo no nonononononono!!!” 

Hauling himself up he peeked down through the observation window. Smoke was billowing from the  machine. Sans, Red and Mutt were sprawled across the floor un-moving. Alarms blared from several computers behind him… you… where were you? He had last seen you next to the machine. Where the fuck were you?!

With just barely enough wherewithal to check his computer for signs of radiation, Stretch bolted for the door.

You had to be under some debris, or maybe one of the others had tackled you out of the way and that’s why he couldn’t see you. Yea. You had to still be here. He hadn’t apologized yet. You had to be here! Pain radiated through his soul and he sagged against the wall. Was that you? Shit. With shaking hands, Stretch punched in the code to get into the machine room. An alarm blared in the background and smoke continued to billow from the machine. 

“h-honey?!” He called.

No response.

Sans and the others hadn’t stirred yet so you may still be on the floor somewhere. As carefully as he could, he picked his way around the room to look where he had seen you last. Hope withered in his chest at the sight of some odd black goo around where you had been standing but no you. Someone groaned behind him and he whirled around.

Sans.

This was his universe, he had to be able to get you back from… wherever the fuck you had gone.

“sans?!” He called out and moved towards him. Out of the corner of his socket, he saw Red staggering to his feet.

“pull those wires before the rest ‘f the machine goes up with ‘em!” No one answered his call to help as he scrambled towards the machine to do it himself.

More movement came from Mutt as he dragged himself up to reach a computer for a damage read-out.

Sans groaned again as Stretch seized the front of his lab coat and began to babble. “she’s gone. she’s gone. i-i tried to warn her not to touch the machine but - oh stars sans what dowedo?”

Mutt turned away from his computer screen. “coolin’ tower one has been disconnected, we gotta shut ‘er down or we’ll fry half our servers!”

NO! They had to find you! Stretch glared around at Mutt and let go of a very dazed Sans. “if we shut it down we might not get her back!”

Mutt’s eye lights flared as he glared back. “we let it run, everythin’ melts down an’ i guarantee we’ll not get ‘er back.” He growled. Red had made it over to Mutt and the two of them rushed from the room.

Looks like neither of them were going to be helpful. Stretch whirled around and moved back to the machine. He had a pen and notepad in one of his lab coat pockets that he pulled out. He had to get any notes down about the machine now before they pulled the plug on it. He heard Sans fumbling around behind him. 

Wait. There were numbers on this screen. Frozen numbers. They usually flashed up then left.

“stretch did you see what happened?” Sans’s voice wobbled as he spoke. Stretch had no time for him.

“she touched the machine.” He hoped that that was a good enough explanation for now. He had to run these numbers upstairs. He had to get you back!

“that shouldn’t have caused this though, we touch it every day.” Sans was still talking. Stretch only nodded and headed for the door. A hand clamped onto his arm, twisting him around and dragging him down to look at the jaded version of his brother. “were you running a simulation while she was in here?” he snarled.

What? No! He had brought everything to a halt after Mutt stopped his algorithm and left with you. Saying as much to Sans, he yanked his arm free and hurried back up to the observation room. The sound of the machine powering down lending speed to his steps.

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

Sans was refusing to search through the data upstairs with him and the others, he sat at a computer in the machine room so he could dig by himself. Stretch watched him break down several times from his vantage point in the upper room. Mutt and Red weren’t much help with the data either as they were in and out working on restoring the cooling lines to their servers. 

His soul hurt.

His skull hurt.

Where were you?

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

The cherry red tip of his cigarette glowed bright as he inhaled. Leaning against the side of the lab, Stretch was on his second pack that day. It was eleven in the morning. He had been out smoking more than searching today.

He couldn’t help it. The observation room was getting claustrophobic. Mutt had parked himself in a chair finally to help sort through the data dump. Red posted up with a laptop on the floor so he could pace as he worked from time to time. 

You were alive. They had determined that at least. Their bond with you was still intact. But feeling the constant pain of your absence in his soul day in and day out was starting to get to him. 

“are you here for the bond you tried to run from, or are you here to just get your kicks with some monsters?”

Stretch groaned and smacked the side of his skull with his palm. Why did he say that? It wasn’t your fault. He knew it wasn’t your fault that you had so many bonds. If anything, it was Sans’s fault for messing with the machine and dragging his and the other’s universes here in the first place.

He had always craved a connection. Not necessarily a bond, but a genuine connection with someone. Someone he could go to, and would come to him. Someone who would see him and his many flaws and love him anyway. Someone that was for him… only him. 

You were all of those things except the last. It was that last thing he had fixated on and blew up on you about. And now you were gone, with no way for him to apologize. 

“I-I’m not playing games.”

You had looked so scared of him. Why didn’t he apologize? Why did it hurt so much to see you drowsy and tangled up in your bed with his brother? Or to see you happily play fighting so close to that asshole Black? 

Stretch stomped out the cigarette and ground his palms against his sockets. They came away wet… and dusty? His hands began to shake as he gingerly felt around his sockets. The bone felt coarse where it used to be smooth.

Dropping his hands to his sides, Stretch clenched them into fists. How fitting. It was just his luck to finally get something good, push it away, lose it, then start to fall. It was his own damn fault.

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

What is sleep? Stretch spun himself in his rolling chair. Mutt didn’t look that much better than him from his spot nearby as he worked on building a new code for the communication device Red had just put together for the machine. Sans was supposedly out getting more coffee, and Red had left to take a smoke break.

With a sigh, Stretch stood and rolled the stiffness from his shoulders. “gonna take a walk.” He muttered in Mutt’s direction as he headed out the door. The sterile hallway and fluorescent lights grated at his exhausted sockets. But he couldn’t sleep, every time he shut his sockets, all he could see was you disappearing in a flash of light over and over again.

Movement caught the corner of his eye, but when he turned his head, there was nothing there.

“sans?” He called and followed where he had seen movement. There was no response, only the solid doors leading into the machine room.

Frowning, Stretch let himself in and looked around. The machine room was dim, the brightest light came from the observation windows above him where Mutt was working. No one except him was around.

But…

“hello?” He turned his skull at the sight of your band t-shirt. You had been wearing one when you came in. 

Nothing.

“honey? are you in here?” The low whine of the machine paired with the ringing of his own confused magic in his skull seemed way too loud. What if you needed to say something to him that would help bring you back?!

“honey?!” panic welled up as he whirled around again and again, chasing the visage of you out of the corner of his eye.

“Stretch.”

That was your voice! Stretch bolted after the sound. There you were. Standing next to the machine, smiling at him. His long legs ate up the ground as he rushed over to you.

“you’re here! you’re home! how di-? actually, i don’t care you’re back!” He made it to your side and scooped you up on a tight hug. “i’m so sorry darlin’ i-i was a total ass, i don’t care anymore. i’ll share the bond, i promise, i- honey? you okay?”

You hadn’t reacted at all to him or his words.

“Don’t look down.” You murmured, then you started to dissolve.

“wha- n-no, nonono honey don’t go!” Magic tears streaked down his face as you dusted in his arms. “come back! i’m sorry! please no, i’ll share for you!” He fell to his knees, desperately trying to keep a hold of you as you slipped away.

“N o !”

A hand clamped on his shoulder making him jump.

“stretch, wake up!”

What were they talking about? He was awake! He…

The dust on the floor was not yours.

Wait.

“stop! you’re hurting yourself!”

Stretch struggled against the hands grabbing at him as he clawed at the floor where you had just been. Someone moved in front of him, it wasn’t you.

Crack!

The shock of being slapped halted the tumultuous magic inside of him. He blinked and brought a hand to his cheek bone.

“ya back in yer skull now?” Red’s voice above him made him blink again. Looking around he found Sans gripping one shoulder, Mutt holding the other. Concern on both of their faces. Red was standing over him rubbing one of his hands.

“yea,” Stretch gazed around in confusion. “yea, i’m back in my skull.”

“good, get upstairs. sans brought breakfas’” Red grumbled and walked off. Mutt also released him and gave him a once over with his eyes before following Red out.

“you good now?” Sans let go of him but stood by.

Stretch nodded and grimaced at the dust on the floor. Sans followed his gaze. “looks like ya scraped your hands pretty bad, i gotta monster candy if ya need it.”

“sure.” Stretch staggered to his feet and trailed after Sans as he made his way out of the machine room. 

“Don’t look down.”

You had said that to him. 

He didn’t need a candy, he was falling.

There was no stopping it now.

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

How long have you been missing? 

How long has this pain pricked at his soul?

How long could he possibly hold on?

The machine was up and running again. Not that it mattered. It did the same thing it was doing before you vanished. Machinery was not his area of expertise. He knew about the stars and planets, not this infernal hunk of metal.

Speaking of… Stretch scratched the back of his hand. Little dust particles sifted off of him and into the air. He liked to think that he was just space dust, held together with magic. If only he could die like a star. Exploding into a beautiful supernova. Then maybe a part of him could be rocketed out into space to drift forever in the cosmos. But no, he would just dissolve into a miserable pile of dust. Just waiting to be swept up and dumped in the garbage.

Stretch frowned at the particles of him drifting around in front of his skull. How big would he have to explode to break through Earth’s gravitational pull? And if he did manage to escape, would some other intelligent life find his dust and trace him back here? To the others who could tell how he died missing you so much? He would be like a cosmic ray, flying forever through space. That sounded nice.

At least he could be found and traced. If only finding you was so simple. Cosmic rays had a starting place to connect to the end point. All they had was some random numbers and the knowledge that you were alive because of his connection to you through his soul.

…

Wait.

There was an endpoint. 

Stretch waved away the dust in front of him and glanced over the mess on his desk. He was connected to you, they all were.

You were traceable!

"i got it." He blurted out and jolted out of his seat.

"got what?" Sans asked from behind him.

Stretch scrambled through the papers on his desk, "cosmic rays." Could this actually work? 

"what about ‘em?" Red growled.

“they’re hard to track, ah ha!” Magic surged like a shot of adrenaline as Stretch found the note pad that he had recorded down the numbers left on the screen when you disappeared. Tossing them at Mutt, he turned to look at the others.

“yea, and? we’re lookin’ fer a person, not energy particles.” Red grumbled from his place on the floor.

Did he not see it? Stretch shook his skull and began to pick his way over to the whiteboard on the wall. “but we should be looking for particles, for links. how else do you think we track things hm?” 

He could hear the excitement in his own voice as he explained the basic principles of tracing cosmic rays. His excitement scared him, if this didn’t work, he would most likely dust on the spot. This was all he had left.

His soul soared when Sans said that there was a chance of it working.

He could get you back.

He could apologize.

He could learn to share, no matter what it took.

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

It worked! You were home!

Who came back with you?

Shit.

It still hurt.

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

Stretch fidgeted with his phone as he leaned against the kitchen counter. Papyrus’s time with you was almost up. He was next. He caught sight of the new skeleton coming in. What did he call himself? G? The golden eyed monster paused then approached him.

“stretch right?” He asked, extending a hand out to shake his. 

Stretch nodded but kept his eyes on the timer on his screen as he absently shook the other’s weird hand. He could feel that single eye light looking over him from head to toe as he let go. The new guy made a quiet ‘huh’ sound while looking at the hand he had just clasped his with. He seemed like he wanted to say something, but Stretch’s timer went off, it was his turn to sit with you.

Stretch walked up to your room. His magic was all over the place and he didn’t trust himself to teleport at the moment. Papyrus met him at your door.

“She’s still out cold.” He murmured. “But sitting with her does seem to help.”

Stretch nodded and slipped into your room. Papyrus shut the door on his way out leaving Stretch alone with you.

For a long minute, all he could do was stare. Too afraid to reach out and touch you only to find that you were part of his imagination again. Just in case you dissolved again. He resolved to sit next to you and turn on a show to distract himself.

You rolled over and curled up against him as you slept. You were solid at least. He wasn’t so sure about himself.

And then you stirred. Looking down in surprise, he watched you clamor up to a sitting position.

“hey, hey. glad to see you up.” Well at least his voice sounded calm.

You blinked and looked at him in confusion. Did you not remember him? Did traveling through the multiverse damage your memories?

“Mn, hey.” You greet him and look around, taking in your surroundings. “Where’s G?”

Stretch’s soul sank, you wanted the other skeleton. “downstairs with the others.” He heard himself say.

“How did you get here?” You asked, finding his face again.

“uh, the door?” Really? That’s your response? The door? Stretch doesn’t blame you when you roll your eyes and stumble out of the bed. He does keep a careful eye on you as you make your way over to the window to throw back the curtains.

The way your body sagged in relief spurred him to follow you to the window. “had to be sure huh?”

You nodded and fell into his arms. You didn’t dissolve. You were solid, alive, home. He felt like his soul was going to burst with relief. In a daze, he led you back over to the bed.

“mind if i just, hold you a while?” he asked.

You shook your head and he wasted no time pulling you into his lap. He stared at the silent show playing on your TV but didn’t process any of it. You were home, you were real and in his arms… he needed to apologize.

“i don’t care anymore you know.” That’s not an apology. You turned your head to look at him in question. “sharing the bond, it’s okay.” Still not an apology.

“Just like that? You asked.

There’s your opening, try again! “mmhmm, it was too much. losing you like that, it just doesn’t matter anymore.” What the fuck, none of those words were ‘i’m’ or ‘sorry’ what was wrong with him?

You were looking at him in the socket, “You sure?”

He’d be damned if he didn’t try. “missed seeing you.” Why couldn’t he say those two little words? 

The smile on your face said that he must be doing or saying something right though. “Missed seeing you too.”

Welp, if he was damned, so be it. His eye lights drifted down to your lips. Stars, he wanted to kiss you, convey everything he couldn’t say through his touch instead. “maybe… to celebrate… you know… your return.” Real smooth Stretch. “we could… talk later and uh, work on our touch?” Wow, he was just going to go for it huh? Why could he ask for a kiss and not say ‘i’m sorry’?! 

He tilted his skull down to you, holding back enough to let you decide. To his absolute delight, you moved to close the distance.

The door opened.

“THAT’S AN HOUR CARROT STICK, IT’S TIME TO SWITCH.” Fuck you Black.

Stretch jerked his head up and let out a harsh breath. He could feel you burying your face in his chest, probably equally embarrassed.

“okay, i still care.” He muttered. But he can care and still try… right? Hardening his resolve, he wordlessly moved you off of his lap so he could get off of the bed and leave. He shot you a grin on his way out in the hopes of looking like he was okay with all of this.

When Black shut the door behind him, Stretch slumped against the wall. Nothing had changed. It still hurt to see you with someone else. 

But…

He had to try. 

For you. 

He would find a way.

[violent-ham]

The Artemis Fowl Movie

I wrote musings as I watched the movie. Here they are without much context but I’m hating the movie so much that I don’t care to go through and write a comprehensive review. Maybe later.

Also note that it’s been a WHILE since I’ve read the books. So. I’m aware that some of my nitpicking may be off.

Needless to say, spoilers for the movie.

Less than five minutes in. Artemis Fowl II… is surfing.

….maybe that wasn’t Artemis?

 They killed Angeline???

 Psychologist scene was almost spot on. Almost. ….maybe this won’t be as bad as the trailers made it look.

 They had me believing for a moment with his interactions with the psychologist. BUT THE VERY NEXT SCENE. Artemis riding a hover board IN JEANS. Artemis wouldn’t be caught dead in jeans.  The one time he wore them in the books he complained extensively about them.

 Fowl Sr.

 Movie Artemis to have a great relationship with his father who is TEACHING HIM ABOUT FAIRIES.

 Cliched rich absentee father.

 Oh sweet jesus Butler

 SAID BUTLER’S FIRST NAME IN HIS INTRODUCTION.

 So… they’re just gonna completely reinvent Butler. Alright.

 Tantrum over his father’s criminal empire. Book Artemis KNOWS THIS and is actively trying to rebuild his family’s fortune after the disappearance of his father YEARS AGO.

 Is that Koboi.

 Yer a wizard, Arty

 Let Artemis be smart and find out about fairies on his own instead of force-feeding us and him expositional dialogue. Let him be the clever genius he’s supposed to be.

 Really hamfisting the whole “THIS FAMILY IS SO IRISH” thing, aren’t they?

 I can only hear Olaf when Mulch speaks.

 I don’t like that they switched it to Mulch stealing Holly’s wallet from Mulch stealing the badge (?) off another officer and Holly retrieving it. Might just be nitpicky at this point though.

 Briar Cudgeon already in prison??

 Holly… other female LEP… Root… Holly’s whole story arch. Yeah.

 Holly gets a “Missing Father” plot too

 STOP SAYING DOMOVOI.

 NIECE. I can overlook the age down (unless they’re planning to try and romance them in the future. If there is a future). But… NIECE?? Juliet is his SISTER. Not his niece. Why was this a necessary change??

 Short hair… no jade ring…

 Already having the groundwork for The Book and finding fairies laid out for him…

 Explaining shuttles to THE experienced flyboy. Gotta get that exposition in somehow, I guess.

 Holly’s father is a thief too, just like Arty’s! Wonder where they’re gonna go with that… =.=

 Yeah forget keeping the civilization a secret and having underground docking stations for the shuttles, lets just shoot Holly out of a fucking volcano in full view of a major city and fly away unshielded.

 Arty’s gonna sit comfy while Butler, sorry DOMOVOI stakes out the tree to kidnap a fairy instead of wanting to see and make sure in person.

 “Pick on someone your own size!”

 Time freeze capsule.

 Time freeze for the rogue troll in Italy.

 Holly going rogue instead of just to refill her magic…

 Holly and Arty’s dads working together.

 Opal Fucking Koboi.

 Oh good, Arty decided to join DOMOVOI after all.

 Gah, those contacts

  “Not happy!” …my sentiments exactly, Holly.

 In a box, not a cell. Guess they’re not gonna go the route of “Holly breaks the floor of her cell to find dirt to restore her magic and WRECK Artemis’s day.”

 Arty sr. teaching Arty jr. about the dangers of fairies.

 The jeans are back!

 Very, very brief glimpse of Artemis in Arty. This movie needs more of that.

 “There are humans that are afraid of gluten, how do you think they’d handle goblins?” Ok that got me…

 Flannel and jeans. WHERE IS HIS SUIT.

 “I’m going to need the suit.” Oh. There it is.

 Arty firing a fairy gun and actively partaking in the fight.

 …………disabling the time freeze WITH AN ARROW. He’s not even allowed to be clever in escaping the time freeze/blue rinse combo at the end??? Will there even be a blue rinse?

 Also, why did the time freeze act as described in the book for Fowl Manor, but LITERALLY freeze time for the incident with the troll? What are the movie rules?

 Well at least they included the “While I’m alive” stipulation but… they’ve gone so off the rails so far I’m not sure it makes a difference anymore. There’s been no build up, no struggle between the fairies and Arty until he captured Holly five minutes ago. The reveal isn’t going to feel earned if they even go that route.

 Well they kept Mulch jamming his thumbs up a goblin’s nose to fry him in jail. So there’s that.

 Nope. No. Arty should be mesmered and Holly out of there.

 Portals between worlds. What movie are we in again?

 David Bowie is a Fairy.

 The scene between Root and Mulch got a laugh out of me. Small laugh, but a laugh nonetheless. Which is more than this movie deserves.

 Mulch unhinging his jaw was actually horrifying.

 But, they had to go for the comedic “pop out of a painting” instead of coming up through the floor. How did he even get into the wall if he was tunnelling through the ground? Comedy of sensibility, I guess.

 So much for “Dwarves can’t burp”

 Arty should be mesmered. AGAIN.

 Arty unlocking Holly instead of Holly escaping. They’re really pushing this forced bond between them.

 What was that reaction to getting punched! And not even a jab about lollipops from Holly.

 That’s not how allergies work

 “D’arvit.” My sentiments exactly, Commander.

 Mulch having pickpocketed Holly’s gun off of DOMOVOI gave me a chuckle. And the fact that not one of them said “How did you pickpocket that off of DOMMOVOI?” is surprising, but welcome. Seems like they forgot about “show don’t tell” up until this point. And something tells me that after this gag, it will be forgotten again.

 Was there a reason for jamming magic in the house when Holly is the ONLY magic user in there? Unless Cudgeon is actively trying to kill Holly. Which. ….yeah alright maybe. Guess that means Holly isn’t going to almost get pummeled to death by the troll if she can’t heal.

 Holly is consistently a damsel in distress instead of a badass LEP captain.

 How did Holly get the momentum to swing that chandelier thing across the room and through the glass?

 A lot of running, jumping, and dangling precariously off of things. Too many cut jumps, not enough troll fighting. What about medieval suit of armor Butler squaring off with the troll? Did they cut that too??

 Arty losing the gun due to recoil. That should have happened the very first time he fired it if it has recoil. Do neutrinos have recoil?

 Ah, so they blocked the magic as a plot device to make us believe DOMOVOI isn’t going to make it.

 “Buddy.” That shouldn’t be in Arty’s vocabulary. Especially when referring to DOMOVOI. Can’t even work in an “Old Friend.” Nope. Gotta go with “Buddy.”

 Magic unblocked, DOMOVOI saved. Wow, did NOT see that coming……. =.=

 Healing fatal wounds is supposed to be tricky even for trained medics to deal with, much less for a LEP officer to do in two seconds.

 Oh, they’re suggesting that he actually DIED. There was a whole scene about this in the third (?) book and being brought back from the dead had some serious repercussions for Butler. But nah, two seconds and he’s fine. Admittedly he was frozen for some time in the book. But still!

 Sooo… the time freeze exploding did nothing and everyone in the house is fine?

 Why does Holly trust Arty? They’ve really done nothing to earn each other’s trust

 Oh good, they’re friends.

 Forever friends.

 Ok, using the first lines of The Book as a spell… is the ocularis or whatever supposed to be the movie version of The Book?

 Ocularis ex machina, Dad is saved!

 “I’m Artemis fowl. I’m a criminal mastermind.” No, you’re Arty and lucky as fuck that the plot of this movie loves you so much.

 A FEW of the plot points are there. SOME of the scenes are there. It’s like they started to make an actual Artemis Fowl movie, scrapped it, wrote in some unrelated story and mashed the two together. This wasn’t an Artemis Fowl movie. This wasn’t even a GOOD movie if you take away the relation to Artemis Fowl. The acting is phoned in and just plain bad at times, like they just wanted to get it over with as soon as possible. The effects are pretty good in places but my god that does not make up for shredded scrap of a story it has. Artemis wasn’t allowed to be clever or in any way villainous, Holly wasn’t allowed to be a badass LEP recon Captain, Mulch… would have been fine if it were an actual Artemis Fowl movie, even if I could only hear Olaf when he spoke. Arty didn’t earn his “Criminal Mastermind” badge in this, not by a long shot. Waited so long for this movie and every apprehension I had after viewing the trailer was warranted. Just awful.

 They didn’t even include the sprite from the trailers in the movie.

[snappedsky]

Borderlands: Skies the Bodyguard 3

Skies and the crew get to Opportunity and run into someone interesting.

*Links to previous and next chapters in reblog*

--

Chapter 9

           Two technicals speed through the Dust, beneath the night sky. Piled into one are Maya, Axton, Salvador, Zer0, Gaige, and Krieg. In the other is Lilith, Mordecai, and Brick with the Crimson Raiders trained skag, Dukino, hanging out the window, his maw open in delight.

           They soon arrive on something suspicious: a mound of destroyed machinery, still smoldering in the sand. It’s barely recognizable as a vehicle. They pull over and Dukino sniffs the destruction, whining as he looks around in confusion.

           “She destroyed their vehicle,” Lilith declares, “she’s trying to keep us off the trail.”

           “So what now?” Gaige asks.

           They watch Dukino’s odd behaviour for a second. He keeps looking from one direction to the other, like he can’t decide which way to go.

           “Looks like she could’ve gone towards the northeast or southwest,” Axton observes, “guess we just gotta pick a direction.”

           “Ellie’s place is over that way,” Maya points out, “maybe she saw something.”

           Everyone agrees and gets back into their vehicles. They arrive at Ellie’s in a few minutes and walk into the junkyard. The large woman greets them right away.

           “Hey, guys,” she chimes, “how’s it goin’?”

           “Could be better,” Lilith replies, “Ellie, have you seen anyone suspicious lately?”

           Ellie gives her a blank look. “Yer gunna have to be more specific.”

           “We just found out Skies the Bodyguard is still alive,” Mordecai clarifies, “we’re trying to find her.”

           “Ah, so the skag’s outta the bag, huh,” Ellie sighs, “yah, I knew already.”

           “What do you mean, you know?” Maya questions, everyone looking at her incredulously.

           “A while ago I found someone passed out in tha desert,” Ellie explains, “I brought ‘em back to the garage and didn’t realize she was Skies until she told me. I was ready to kill her but…”

           “But what?” Maya asks, “did she attack you?”

           “Nah, the exact opposite. She didn’t try to fight back or resist. She just sat there and…waited. And-I dunno. I couldn’t do it. She just looked…broken.”

           “Tina said that exact same thing,” Brick muses.

           “Well, she ain’t broken now,” Axton points out, “and she kidnapped Claptrap.”

           “And that’s…bad?” Ellie questions.

           “It’s the principle of the matter,” Lilith says, “Ellie, did she come back recently?”

           “Yah, not long ago her new friends came lookin’ for a car,” she replies.

           “And you just gave it to ‘em?” Salvador asks incredulously.

           “They needed help. And I trusted her friends, not her,” Ellie clarifies.

           “Did they say anything about where they were going?” Lilith asks.

           “‘fraid not. Just that they were going to Sanctuary for help.”            Everyone sighs with defeat.

           “Okay, well, there was still that other direction her scent went,” Gaige points out.

           “Yeah, let’s go,” Axton nods and they start to head out.

           “Lil,” Ellie calls after them, grabbing Lilith’s attention. “If I was wrong about letting Skies go, I promise I’ll make her pay myself.”

           Lilith hesitates with what to say for a second. “Don’t-don’t worry about it, Ellie. I don’t blame you. I know you would’ve killed her if you thought it was right.”

           Ellie nods and Lilith leaves with the others.

           They return back to the destroyed vehicle and continue on towards the southwest. Soon, Skies destination makes sense as they arrive at the train station.

           “Lynchwood,” Lilith grunts, “of course.”

           “Ay, the trains have power,” Salvador observes as everyone gets out of the vehicles.

           “How did that happen?” Axton asks, “last time we were here, the whole town was dead.”

           “She must’ve restored power somehow,” Maya muses.

           “Least now we don’t have to walk,” Mordecai grunts as they climb aboard the train.

           “Let’s hurry,” Lilith orders and they ride the train to Lynchwood.

           Meanwhile, Skies and the others have just fast traveled to Opportunity. They appear one by one in a bedroom, which at one point was probably lavish and opulent, but has since been destroyed and looted.

           “Nice place,” August comments drily.

           “Too bad we missed the party,” Sasha adds.

           Skies leaves silently and approaches the window in the destroyed den. From here, she can see the destruction that was wrought upon Opportunity after Jack’s death. The buildings are all intact but many of the windows are smashed and even from this distance, evidence of past gunfights is clear. It looks nothing like the golden beacon Jack dreamed of.

           Skies stares out solemnly until she senses Vaughn approach.

           “You okay?” he asks.

           “Yeah,” she replies and turns away. “Come on. We gotta go into the city. I don’t know what’s in there, so be ready for anything.”

           Everyone draws their weapons and start to leave when Claptrap cuts them off.

           “Wait!” he says dramatically, “I would like to say something.”

           “What, you need permission?” August scoffs.

           “Skies saved me from a skag attack earlier today,” Claptrap announces, “this has forced me to rethink my opinion on her. Therefore I have decided, she is no longer my enemy and as thanks for saving me, I will protect her with my life!”

           “Oh um,” Skies stammers, flabbergasted, “that’s…okay. Thanks…?”            “Now, let us continue with our quest!” he declares before rolling away.

           “Hey, nice,” Vaughn smiles, nudging Skies as they follow. “One of the Crimson Raiders has accepted you.”

           “Yeah,” she sighs, “guess I gotta start somewhere.”            They leave the tower and cross the bridge to the city proper. It’s eerily quiet; not even the growling of skags can be heard in the distance.

           “Oooh I hate this kind of silence,” Skies groans as she covers her ears, like that’s gonna help. “Reminds me of the time I spent alone. Maddening. Suffocating. Somebody say something to drown it out.”

           “You seem to be doing an okay job,” August comments.

           “I can’t believe how empty it is,” Sasha remarks, “I thought this place would be crawling with bandits.”            “Yeah, it is odd,” Vaughn agrees.

           “The controls for the bridge on the other side were destroyed,” Skies explains, “it wasn’t mindless destruction either. It was clean, like they knew what they were doing.”

           “Maybe the Crimson Raiders want to keep people out,” Vaughn suggests.

           “Maybe,” she agrees, slightly unconvinced.

           Skies leads the group to Opportunity Square, to a building that used to be locked with a keypad. The door has long since been destroyed, allowing the group free access. Inside used to be a surveillance room but that too is ruined.

           “This isn’t gonna work at all,” Sasha says angrily, gesturing to the broken monitors.

           “Relax,” Skies grunts and goes up to an empty wall, placing her hand against it. A large scanner appears that scans her whole body before a secret door opens up.

           “Whoa, cool,” August comments.

           “This lab can only be accessed by mine or Jack’s bio-signatures,” Skies explains as they go down a set of dimly lit stairs. “That’s why I know it’s safe. No one can get in here.”

           They enter a simple room with a large computer against the right wall, a couple of cabinets and shelves, a table, and a fast travel station across from them. But none of this is what stops them in their tracks. What does are the clothes sprawled out around the floor and the pile of fresh fruit on the table.

           “It…looks like somebody’s been living here,” Vaughn muses.

           “That’s impossible,” Skies argues, “no one should be able to get in here but me.”

           “This drake fruit is fresh,” August points out, “this hasn’t been here since Jack died.”

           “But…” Skies trails off, rubbing her head in perplexity.

           “Whatever, no one’s here now,” Sasha says impatiently, “let’s just find Fiona and Rhys already. Claptrap, can you hack the computer?”            “No problem,” he chimes and rolls over to the monitor. Sasha, Gortys, and Loader Bot follow him while August, Vaughn, and Skies mill about the room.

           “Vaughn, seriously?” August groans as Vaughn bites a piece of fruit.

           “What, I’m hungry,” he shrugs.

           Skies ignores them as goes over to the clothes. She picks one up: an old Hyperion sweatshirt with rips and stains. Everyone on Helios had a shirt like this- even her.

           “But it definitely looks like his size…” she mutters.

           “Bad news, guys,” Claptrap says, catching everyone’s attention. “Server’s down.”

         “What?” Sasha barks as she stares at the large blue screen. “Skies, you said this would work.”

           “Aw son of a taint!” Skies snaps, throwing down the shirt. “I was really hoping Jack would have this place on a separate server. Shit, shiiiiiiit!”

           “What now?” Vaughn asks.

           Skies groans loudly, clearly agitated. “Well…there’s one more place we can go. I know it’s on its own server but…augh, it’s a pain in the ass though, for so many reasons. I really, really didn’t wanna go there.”

           “Well, we got no other choice,” Sasha points out.

           “Yeah,” she sighs, “okay. The only- well, not only but a major problem is that we need Jack’s voice and bio-signature.”

           “Aw, man,” August groans.

           “Maybe we can put together a voice modulator,” Vaughn suggests.

           “No problem,” Claptrap chimes, “I am able to customize my voice and I have many instances of Jack speaking in my memory banks.” He’s silent for a second before speaking again, sounding exactly like Jack. “How’s this?”

           Everyone stares at him, bewildered.

           “Perfect, right?” Claptrap asks.

           “Good god, that’s unsettling,” Skies cringes.

           “But it should work,” Vaughn adds.

           “Yeah,” she agrees, “now we just need his bio-signature. Maybe we can find something in his old office or at Lynchwood.”

           “Gross,” Sasha comments.

           “Let’s go, team,” Claptrap declares.

           “Please change your voice,” Skies begs, “I can’t believe I’m saying this but I like your normal voice better.”

           “Aw thank you. Er, I mean.” He’s quiet again before speaking in his default voice. “Thank you!”

           “Alright,” she sighs and turns to the door. “Let’s go back to Lynchwood-.”

           She stops as she turns the corner and comes face to face with Handsome Jack.  

[trashcanband4]

Father Daughter Duo Ch. 4

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 5 Chapter 6

Chapter Title:The Departure. Pairing: DarylxOc. Setting: The Prison. Word Count: 3.651. Warnings: Rape, Non-customary situations, Suicide attempts.

"What's yer name?" Dad bluntly asked the man that was still tied to the tree. I gave the man a once over. I know it's weird, but eyes are the first thing I notice about people. They usually tell me everything I need to know about someone. This man's eyes were a hard, searing, frightening, icy blue. Everything about the man scared me and I was afraid to know what might happen when Dad finally untied him. Especially considering that the blade that replaced his right hand was still attached to its metal contraption.

"Merle." The man replied with a red eyed glare at my dad. "Yer's?" I was wondering if that was really the man's name and if Dad was going to tell him his real name. When he answered Merle's question he also answered mine.

"Sean." Dad didn't lie, but I still wasn't sure if Merle was this mans true name.

"What about Sugar Tits over there?" Dad didn't hesitate to slam his fist into the man's face.

"Call my daughter that again and ya will wish ya were dead." Merle wiped blood off of his lip and glared at Dad. "Her name is Bay." A part of me wished that he would have lied and told him a fake name for me. Just looking at this man made my skin crawl. "No funny business. Stay there. We'll be back later." The man scoffed and spit a spray of blood onto the ground. I could feel his bloodshot eyes on my backside as we walked back to the prison. Luckily once we got inside the fence Merle was out of sight and out of mind, well as much as he could be.

I started taking out the walkers just as I did the previous day. Unfortunately it wasn't as easy as the previous day, because the numb jelly feeling that affected my arms the previous day had turned into a pinching pain over night. Every time I lifted my arms it would shoot through my bicep up through my neck. Dad noticed my slowed pace. "Ya sore?" I dropped my arms to my side taking a break to answer him. "Only one way to fix that. Ya gotta work it out." I knew this was a lie, but I wasn't going to argue with my father, so I just kept my stabbing at an even pace and switched hands every twenty walkers. The longer we carried on killing the walkers the more sore my hands got. I knew I was getting blisters, but I couldn't bring myself to look. I just wanted all of these things dead, so I kept killing the ugly dead people trying to concentrate on the goal, safety.

Finally I dropped my arms to my sides and let the knife fall to the ground with blood and skin stuck to the handle. I looked out over the walker littered yard and up to the sky. Judging by the position of the sun I'd say it was about four in the afternoon. We had spent practically all day killing the ugly creatures and we were almost done. I could count about twenty more roaming the field. I gave Dad a weak smile at our success and he noticed the knife on the ground at my feet and frowned. He took my hands in his rough ones and flipped them over examining my palms. I had a long thin blister across the top of my palms reaching from pinky to pointer finger and another oval blister under each thumb. "Bay, ya should'a said somethin'. Ya could have stopped and I wouldn't 'a blamed ya." He touched the un-popped blisters testing how much liquid was in the raised bubble. I winced from the pain and he squinted at me before he turned back to the fence and whistled to the remaining biters. He took them all down effortlessly as they came over. "Come on I think I still have a first aid kit in Old Red's toolbox." My converse crunched on the gravel as we walked along the path then ducked through the hole in the fence, laced it back up and headed toward the truck.

Dad rinsed my hands with water before he drained the blister that hadn't popped and used some of the yarn to tie a gauze pad to each of my palms. I examined his work touching the sore spots through the pads. "Are we gonna move into the yard tonight?" I asked looking up from my hands and at Dad. He nodded and started gathering up our things. I hopped down off of the truck seat and started gathering up the things that I thought I would need and shoved them into a backpack. Once Dad had everything he needed moved inside the first fence we went back for Merle.

He was asleep so Dad nudged him with his foot. Funny, I would have done more than just nudge him. He woke with a startle looking around for immediate danger only to find my father towering over him. The man slumped back down against the tree. Dad bent down and took the knife off of the metal contraption and was met by a parade of complaints from Merle. Dad just ignored him and shoved the knife into my hands I didn't really know what to do with it so I put it in the side pocket of the backpack. He then untied the horrid man from the tree and started leading him to the prison fence. I untied the lacing and opened the hole. Dad didn't say a word as he shoved him in then followed never taking his hands off of the rope that bound Merles arms behind his back. We walked along the path between the two fences until we came to a gate. I slid it open wincing from the pressure it put on my hands. We had to go through a few more gates before we finally came to the one that led us into the yard.

Dad secured Merle's hands to an overturned bus and left him there while we went and got the rest of our stuff from where it still sat near the hole in the fence. Silence hung awkwardly in the air around us as we made our way back to the yard. I didn't know what to think about Dad keeping the guy in the yard with us. He was just another mouth to feed and not worthy of the food we would provide him with. We sat our stuff down in the middle of the yard and I started setting up to build a fire.

"I'm goin' huntin'. Take watch on that tower over there." I followed his finger to the one closest to the hole. "Lock the door and yell if something happens." I didn't want to take watch on the guard tower, because that would mean being alone, but I once again wasn't going to argue with my dad. So I did what he said and followed him to the tower and went in locking the door behind me like he said. A pair of binoculars were gripped tightly in my hands as I leaned on the railing and watched my father until he disappeared into the tree line. With nothing else better to do, I turned the binoculars to the man, Merle. He could probably see me watching him, but I didn't care. He was a bad man and bad men needed to be watched 24/7 in this new crappy world.

But eventually I dropped the binoculars to let them hang around my neck and took up walking the perimeter of the tower. I found it odd that we hadn't seen one walker outside the fences of the prison since we had been here. Everything seemed safe and uneventful around the tower so I sat down where I could easily see both Merle where he sat and where Dad would be coming out of the woods.

I was mainly staring at Merle though. I couldn't make my eyes leave him. It was like I could feel him looking at me so I had to look back. I found myself wondering why he did it. Why did he try to…to rape me? Did he get a thrill out of watching women cry because of the pain he inflicted on them? Soon I found myself wondering who he was. Was he a prisoner who actually managed to get out of this place? If he wasn't then who was he before this all happened. Was he a nice guy and this world changed him for the worse? I heard a sharp whistle and I looked away from the man to see Dad standing at the base of the tower.

"You can come down now. Got us some rabbit." He had a smirk on his face when he said it and I couldn't help but smile back at him before I walked down the tower and out of the door closing it behind me out of habit. I started a fire when we got back to camp. The meat was cooking on the pit when Merle spoke, more like yelled, at us.

"Are ya'll gon'na share that with me or just make me starve?" I thought about just letting him starve, but the annoying little person in my head named conscience wouldn't let me do it. I ignored the question until Dad and I were done eating. Dad smiled widely at me when I refilled my plate a third time. I expected it to fade when I stood up but it didn't. Why was Dad so happy? I hadn't seen him smile this much since, well since mom was still alive.

"Where are you going?" he asked slowly and I rolled my eyes without meaning to.

"I can't let him starve. No matter how much I wish I could." He nodded, mumbled something under his breath and started eating again. I turned and started walking towards Merle who I could clearly see in the moonlight. He was slumped down half laying half sitting against the bus. He sat up and lifted his head to look at me, but he didn't say anything. "I uh," I scratched the back of my neck with the hand that wasn't holding the plate, "I brought you some rabbit."

"How the hell am I supposed to eat it? Are ya gon'na feed it to me sugar tits?" I cringed at the name, but managed to ignore it and thought about his question instead. How was he supposed to eat it? His only hand was tied to the bus and I sure as hell wasn't getting my hands anywhere near his mouth. "Well, baby, come on I'm starving' here."

I held up one of my fingers signaling that I would be back in a second. I went to my dad and asked him what he thought. He shrugged. "Untie him and let him eat. Ya have yer gun on ya and yer guard up. I'll keep an eye from a distance." I didn't like the slur to his words or his simple and dangerous plan nor could I believe that he actually trusted me to guard him, but as always I listened to him without question. So I walked over to Merle who wasn't surprised when I untied the knot that held his hand to the bus. He rubbed his wrist on his pants before he slowly picked up the plate off of the ground where I had set it. I kneeled down on one knee straight across from him and propped my elbow up on my other knee pointing the gun straight at his heart. He snorted. "What are ya goanna do, shoot me?" he smirked at me.

"Only if you do something stupid." We were both quiet while he ate. I watched his long nimble fingers as he dropped piece after piece of the stringy meat into his mouth. He acted like I didn't even have the gun pointed on him. He finally looked up at me as he chewed the last piece of food.

"Do ya have a staring problem or something'?" he asked still chewing and I pulled a face before I shook my head not willing to speak to him at the time. "Well then why do you keep staring at me?" I shrugged and kept the gun on him. "How bout ya and me sneak away from yer precious daddy and bump some ugly's?" Ugh did he really think I would have sex with him?

"Not even if you were the last man alive." I spoke through gritted teeth and he smirked. Seriously, did he like being insulted? I got up and grabbed the string off of the ground where it had fallen and wrapped it around his wrist once before I wrapped it around a random part of the bus. I was about to tie the string into a tight knot when he suddenly jerked his hand back. Next thing I knew Merle was pressing me face first against the under part of the bus where my father couldn't see. I felt Merle quickly slide his blade out of my back pocked where I had placed it incase I needed it. He held me to the bus with his shoulder as he reattached it and I soon felt the chill of the tip of the blade against the back of my neck.

"Make one sound and yer dead, got me?" I nodded and he pried the gun from my sore hand causing me to let out a cry of pain. "What the fuck did I just say?" he hissed in my ear.

"It's not my fault you hurt me." I whispered back without thinking and he quietly snorted.

"Shut up, bitch." He took a deep breath. "Listen to me your fathers been drinking that whiskey for quite some time now and eventually he's gonna pass out. When he does we're out of here." What! I'm not going anywhere with this man. What is he talking about?

"Dad doesn't drink." I whispered disbelievingly and he snorted again. That was really annoying and unattractive.

"Are you blind girly?" Girly? What did he think he was a pirate? Then again he was missing an arm. He pulled me from the bus and kept the blade at the back of my neck. He walked me to the edge of the bus and made me lean over to look at my dad. Sure enough I could make out a bottle of jack in his hands as he drank it straight from the bottle. I couldn't believe my eyes, Dad didn't drink, and why on earth would he start now? Especially when we had a prisoner to look after. I heard a quiet laugh come from Merles lips behind me.

I felt so stupid at that moment. How could I not have noticed my father drinking before? I knew that after this our relationship would never be the same. He was a stupid drunk and he had let this evil man get his hands on me. He was supposed to be keeping an eye on us, but there he was plain as day staring into the fire as he tipped the bottle back and let the dark liquid slide down his throat. Soon he stumbled away from the fire to pee. "Any time now." Merle whispered in my ear and I cringed from his hot breath on my neck.

"Why do you have to take me with you? Why can't you just leave?" I asked in a pleading whisper hoping he would leave me here. "We won't come looking for you."

"Aww sweet, sweet Bay, maybe I want a girl by my side. Gets lonely out there all by myself." He answered in a mock caring voice.

"Then find a willing girl. I'm sure there's still a slut or two out there somewhere." He sighed and kissed my neck. I cringed as I pressed my face into my shoulder. "Please don't make me go with you." I pleaded with a shaky voice. He continued kissing my neck as we watched my father get more and more drunk. Eventually he did exactly what Merle said he would and passed out on his sleeping bag. Merle took this as his opportunity to get what he wanted in the first place and this time I was completely unarmed.

He held me against the rusted underside of the old bus, cut off my clothes then ran his hand over my body causing the familiar burning sensation of an unwanted touch. Then he slammed me to the ground, grabbed my left wrist and pinned it down, holding it there with the tip of his knife pressed into my palm. No amount of struggling helped it just made the tip of the knife dig deeper into my hand. He eventually caught my other flailing arm and pinned it down. I crossed my feet and clenched my legs together as tight as I could, but he easily parted them with his knee. His next action caused me to release a pain filled scream that probably attracted walkers from miles around.

I made my mind go somewhere else, numbed it even though I couldn't numb my body. He left me lying on the ground behind the bus feeling broken and betrayed, but most of all I felt dirty, inside and out, physically and mentally. I hated myself I hated Merle and I hated my dad for getting drunk and letting this happen to me. I just laid there until the tears stopped falling and dried into crusty streaks on my face.

When the sun had raised enough for me to see I pulled myself up off of the ground and managed to put my ragged, torn clothes back on. I went to my bag, pored everything out of it and put the one bottle of shampoo we had, some remotely clean clothes and a towel back into it before I threw it over my shoulder. Dad was still passed out and I gave him a disgusted look before I started walking to the little lake. For some reason I wasn't worried that Merle would come back. I just left not caring that my father might wake up with me not there or that I might get trapped out here by a pack of walkers.

When I got to the lake I undressed. The clothes that I peeled off of me were shredded and dirty. Just looking at them made me want to throw up so I wrapped them around a large rock and chunked them into the water letting them sink to the bottom. The water was cold, but I didn't care, it numbed the pain of the bruises that I was too afraid to look at. I washed my hair and tossed the bottle near my bag before I scooped up some sand off of the bottom and started scrubbing my skin. Surely if I rubbed hard enough the rough sandpaper texture would remove the filthiness, but I was wrong. Nothing helped; nothing would ever make me feel clean again, inside or out. And inside I was screaming, no amount of doing it out loud helped. Eventually I gave up, walked in until the water line was over my head and let myself sink as low in the water as I felt in life.

I made myself open my eyes under the clear water to observe myself. My hands, which were free of the gauze pads and yarn, slid over my raw arms. I could see a hand shaped bruise on my upper right bicep and several more round ones on my inner thighs. The blue tint of the water made the hole in the center of my hand, that was left from Merles knife, look black. I didn't care when I started feeling my lungs burn from the lack of oxygen. I just stared out into the water and stayed under liking the pain it caused me. It increased by the second but I still didn't come up for a breath. Soon my vision started to tunnel, the length of the tunnel increased with the pain in my chest and eventually there was no end, just a darkness that went on forever until I went completely unconscious.

I was aware of a pressure on my chest before I gagged and coughed up water. I quickly turned onto my hands and knees to spit it out. "Oh thank god." I heard the male voice before I spun around too fast and fell onto my butt as my head started spinning. "Have you been bit?" I waited for the two men to come into focus. The one that was talking to me had short wavy brown hair and worried blue eyes. The other had longer, light brown, side swept hair that almost covered his glaring eyes. The cross bow that he held in his hands was pointed straight at me. Why was he pointing that thing at me, I wasn't a walker and as far as I knew I hadn't been bitten.

The short haired man took a step closer to me when I didn't answer and I shuffled backwards not caring that twigs scratched my bare rear. He took another step to me and I forced myself to stand up. My legs wobbled as I took off running in the direction that I thought the prison was in, but soon I was face down in a bunch of pine needles. I couldn't control the speed of my breathing as I looked up and saw a nasty, half decayed biter stumbling toward me. I heard the faint familiar thud of an arrow hitting the walker's skull before my world went black for the second time that day.

Daryl Tags: @jodiereedus22 @mtngirlforever @zzeacat @winchester-angel@moodygrip @beegnc @hells-mistress @lighthope08 @sapphire1727@luisadontcurr @chloebabyboo @ilkaeliseb @twdeadfanfic @ravengalaxia@1lluminaticonfirmed @my-current-fandom-is @nikkiloves-bailey @coffeebooksandfandom @lonewolf471 @gruffle1 @mblaqgi @calumstuffs@beltzboys2015-blog @neontiger007  @lonewolf471 @sourwolf-sterek32 @dixonluvv @dotslabyrinth @kayln97 @art-flirt @beltzboys2015-blog

[crashdevlin]

Marion: 1-Family

Marion Masterlist

Author’s Note: Originally posted to ao3 (This is an edited and improved version). This started as an excuse to write some Castiel/OFC loving, but it blossomed into an epic-length fic and even an AU where Marion was with them the whole time. 

Summary:  Dean gets a call from Bobby sending him and Sam back to Lawrence to pick up Marion, Dean’s twin sister they thought died before Sam was even born.

Pairing(s): none yet

Word Count: 2478

Chapter Warnings: Mentions of kidnapping, slight language

Dean pulled his cell phone out of his jacket pocket as its ringing pulled him from his sleep. He sighed when he saw Bobby's name on the screen. Phone calls from Bobby rarely brought good news anymore. It was always 'the angels are doing this horrible thing' or 'Lucifer is doing this slightly more horrible thing' or 'you idjit! What horrible thing are you doing?'. Dean almost let it go to voicemail, wondering if he even cared what horrible thing Bobby was about to report to him. At the last second, he flipped the phone open.

"Yeah, Bobby?"

There was a long silence before Bobby started to speak. "Dean, uh, I just got a news alert outta Lawrence." There was another long silence. "They found Marion."

Dean clenched his eyes shut and sighed, sitting up and running his left hand through his hair. "Any leads on her killer?"

"You misunderstand me, boy. She's alive."

"What?!" Dean exclaimed, not even trying to keep Sam from waking up.

"Article says the scum that took her started givin' her house privileges, let her out of the basement a few months ago, I guess. Guess they thought Stockholm Syndrome woulda kicked in after 25 years. She did what they wanted for a few months until they weren't watchin' 'er for a few minutes and she grabbed a knife and stabbed one of 'em in the stomach. Says he lived, but she got away. Article says she's in police custody until they can assess her mental state and find some family to take her in."

Dean struggled to find words to say. "I-I'm not quite sure what to do here, Bobby."

"What do you mean, yer not sure? You get in yer car and go save yer sister, you idjit!"

Dean sighed and nodded. "You're right, Bobby. It's just... the timing sucks. But I'll get over there as soon as possible. Thanks for letting me know." He hung up the phone and dropped his feet out of bed. He started trying to simultaneously get dressed and get packed, before walking over to Sam and hitting him on his bicep. "Wake up, dude. We gotta go. Now."

Sam stirred and blinked up at his brother. "Is it Lucifer or a case?"

Dean shook his head. He clenched his jaw, then relaxed. "No. You remember... you remember me and Dad tellin' you about... about Marion?"

Sam sat up and rubbed the sleep from his face. "Uh, yeah. You guys were at a park a few months before I was born. Dad went to get you guys some ice cream and Marion disappeared."

"She's been in Lawrence this whole time. Sam, she's been... chained up in some pervert's basement for almost thirty goddamn years. Cops are holding her at the hospital to make sure they didn't completely fry her brain. Come on, we gotta-"

"Wait, Dean." Sam interrupted, dropping his feet to the floor. "Before we drive halfway across the country, we've gotta ask ourselves a few questions."

"Like what?" Dean asked, irritated.

Sam took a deep breath and tried to catch his brother's eyes. "Like 'isn't the timing a bit suspicious'? We're in the middle of the Apocalypse. We're ganking demons and horsemen. We've both got angels on our ass who'd do anything to get us to be their vessels and, suddenly, your twin who's been missing longer than I've been alive shows back up?" Dean didn't respond. He didn't want to think about the possibility Sam was laying out. He just walked past Sam into the tiny motel bathroom and began brushing his teeth. "And let's say she passes the tests. She's not some demon or a shapeshifter or something; it's really her. What do we tell her? Mom and Dad are dead, she's never even met me, and the last time she saw you, you were both still in Pull-ups. What do we tell her about our lives that won't break her fragile psyche more than whatever was done to her in that house?"

"We'll figure something out." Dean said, spitting foam into the sink. "We'll tell her as little as we can get away with at first so we don't freak her out, then we'll ease her into the rest of it."

"Dean, it's not like we can take her with us. She doesn't have the training we had. She wouldn't be safe traveling with us. Besides, Dean, we really have other things we need to focus on."

Dean threw his bag on the table, "This isn't up for discussion." He said, resolutely. "She's my twin sister, Sam, and I haven't seen her in twenty-seven years. I don't care if it's difficult to explain our lives. I don't care if we have to take some time to train her to freakin' survive. She's a big part of our family that I thought we'd never see again. She's family. We're going."

Sam knew better than to keep arguing with him. Even if Dean weren't the most stubborn son of a bitch Sam had ever met, he'd taken an intro Psych class at Stanford which taught him about the bond between twins. The loss of his twin could actually account for more of Dean's distance and coldness than how they were raised. Sam just nodded and started to get dressed.

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

They spent the drive in relative silence, Dean's old Zeppelin cassette joining forces with the Impala's engine to fill the emptiness that was getting more tense with each mile. Dean's mind kept vacillating between excitement and anguish. He was ecstatic to be able to see his sister again. She was like a limb he'd been missing since he was four years old. He'd learned to live without her, but he wasn't ever whole. But what if she was broken by her kidnappers? What if she's fine but can't handle how the other Winchesters' lives had turned out? What if she was a ploy from the angels? Zachariah or Michael dangling his twin in front of his face with a 'Look what we can give you. Just say yes'. Or worse, what if she was sent by Lucifer to keep tabs on Sam? Dean didn't want to think too hard on the possibility that his sister might be some demon in disguise, but unfortunately he had to think about all of the ways that this could fuck him in the ass.

It took them 18 hours to get to Lawrence. Dean didn't bother driving them to a motel, pulling right into the hospital parking lot and heading inside. He all but ran into the building and up to the reception desk in the front. "My name is, uh, Dean Winchester. I, uh, I hope I'm in the right place, but..."

"You're here for Marion." The receptionist said with a smile. "I'm just gonna need some ID and then I can take you up to see her. She's in our psych ward. Don't worry, though, they've just had her under an observation hold, that's all."

Dean handed the woman his ID, fumbling for his real one, which she seemed to think was adorable because she smiled as she handed it back and walked away.

"So, how is she?" Sam spoke up as they followed the receptionist to the elevators.

"Well, you'd really have to talk to her doctor about that, but..." She turned to them, a bit conspiratorially, as they waited for the doors to open. "The way I hear it, no one has ever seen someone go through what she did and come out so... well-adjusted."

"Well-adjusted?" Sam asked as the doors opened and they stepped on.

"That's a good thing, Sammy. Don't sound so upset." Dean snapped. Sam kept it to himself that well-adjusted was suspicious.

"She claims that the people she was with, they didn't really hurt her, they just kept her. Allegedly." She pressed the button for the fourth floor. "The female kidnapper even home-schooled her. She really just wants to go home now, so I'm sure she'll be super happy to see you boys."

Dean looked into the window on the door the receptionist stopped in front of. He took a deep breath as his eyes fell on his sister for the first time in almost thirty years. Her dark blond hair was so long that it touched the mattress she was sitting on. The hospital had her in the plain white scrubs of the other psych patients, but it was clear that she was beautiful, just like their mother had been. The receptionist opened the door and ushered Sam and Dean inside.

Marion Winchester looked up. "Yes?" Her voice was soft and sweet and Dean's breath caught in his chest.

"I've got some visitors for you, Marion." The receptionist said, smiling.

She looked up at Dean skeptically, two sets of hazel-green eyes meeting each other. "Can I... help you?"

Shock and disbelieve stopped Dean in his place for a minute before he smiled, bright white teeth shining at her. "Break my heart, Marion. Only woman to ever forget my face and it's my twin sister? You're killin' me."

Marion looked confused as she stood from the bed, never taking her eyes off of Dean. "D-Dean? Oh, my lord! They told me you were dead!" She exclaimed, wrapping her arms around him. She was only five or six inches shorter than him so she was able to embrace him easily and the hug she wrapped him in was stronger than he'd expected from the thin woman. She pulled back and looked at him, like she was certain her eyes were playing tricks. "They drove me past the house. I remember seeing the scorch marks. They said there was a fire, that everyone died!"

Dean shook his head. "There was a fire, little under a year after they took you, but Mom's the only one who didn't make it. Me and Dad and Sammy, we survived."

"Sammy?" Marion asked, her brow furrowing.

Dean smiled. "Yeah, I guess you probably don't remember but Mom was pregnant when you got grabbed. Our little brother, Sam." Dean didn't look away from her as he waved at Sam. "That's your cue to introduce yourself, Sammy."

Sam walked forward from his spot by the door, an awkward smile on his lips. Marion giggled, softly. "This Sasquatch is our little brother?" She asked, moving away from Dean to wrap her arms around him, too.

"I'm glad you're okay, Marion. It's, uh, really great to meet you."

"Hey, I'm gonna see if I can find your doctor, see when we can get you out of here." Dean said, walking out the door with a grin.

"So, uh, the lady from Reception, she said that the people who took you, they weren't... you know, they weren't abusive or anything, that they even home-schooled you?" Sam asked, eyeing the large stack of books on the nightstand, the only surface in the room.

"Oh. Yeah. Mister and Missus were never really mean to me... unless I talked about leaving. Missus taught me all the way up to when I should have graduated high school, then she gave me college text books for my favorite subjects. Mostly that was different forms of history and British Literature." Marion picked up a large book of poems with a spine so cracked that Sam couldn't even read the title. "I know this might sound, I don't know, weird, but I don't think they were bad people. They never blatantly harmed me. Quite the opposite, actually. They shared the delusion that God had told them to take me, to protect me. They were the most God-fearing people you can imagine and I'm sure that, were it not for the sickness in their minds, they would have been wonderful and charitable people."

"God told them to take you?" Sam was sad that he'd been right to be suspicious and he was not looking forward to having to tell Dean.

"They seemed certain of it. They couldn't ever tell me what they were saving me from, but they knew they were saving me. I know religion can be a touchy subject but to think that God would have his angels swoop down from Heaven and tell two people to steal a four year old away from her parents is just absurd."

Sam watched her set the poetry back on the table. "Maybe the angels did it because they wanted you away from us, not God." He turned back to the door as Dean bounced back in. "Hey, Dean. Can I talk to you outside real quick?" Sam followed Dean out into the hall and closed the door behind him, taking a deep breath. "Marion just told me that the couple who took her said they were instructed to... by God. More specifically, by angels."

Dean gritted his teeth together trying to contain his rage, but lost the fight and punched the wall on the opposite side of the hallway. "I was really hoping this would just be a good thing and not some stupid... angel bullshit!" He pulled his phone from his pocket and angrily flipped it open. "Cas. Lawrence, Kansas. Lawrence Memorial Hospital, fourth floor." He demanded, before hanging up.

Castiel appeared in front of them within seconds. "I knew nothing of this, Dean." The angel defended without provocation.

"Yeah? Then, how'd you know what I was calling about?" Dean asked, his jaw tense.

"I was told that Zachariah recently traveled to 1982. I was looking into the reasons behind this when I found out about your sister. I knew the two must be connected and your call has confirmed that. Again, I did not know about this beforehand."

Dean took a deep breath and ran his fingers through his hair. "So... what do you think the point was, Cas? Why do you think Zach took my sister from me?"

Castiel looked down, his brow furrowed. "He didn't, Dean, take her." He looked up, blue eyes catching Dean's greens. "Technically, he's giving her to you. Before he went back in time, before he convinced the Cornwells to take her, she was meant to run into the street and be struck by a vehicle... just an hour after they took her. I'm not sure why he's chosen to bring her into your life, but... perhaps you should ask her."

All color left Dean's face. "She was gonna die?"

"Yes."

"But keeping people from dying who're supposed go, isn't that-" Sam started.

"Don't worry, Zachariah didn't change anything, really. Dean, and the world, would have dealt with her death exactly as they did her disappearance and the fact that she was mostly kept sequestered means that she was unable to affect the world." Castiel looked to the door to Marion's room. "Again, only Zachariah knows why he saved her, but perhaps Marion can shed a little light on the situation."

Thnks Fr Th Mmrs

Supernatural Tag- @letsby

[overwatchworks]

Teammates Through and Through:

McCree head-canon Chapter 3, Part 2

Jesse walked onto the airship, enjoying the clinking sound his brand new shiny spurs made as he took each step. As soon as Jack had mentioned them, Jesse couldn’t believe he hadn’t thought of it before. What was a cowboy without his spurs? So he had gone up to Gabe the very next morning and demanded he have some boots made specially with spurs, the Blackwatch commander giving him an oddly smug look as he agreed without a fuss. That had worried Jesse slightly, but he didn’t care now. He had his complete look at last. 

Jesse sat down on the cold but oddly comfortable seats in the drop ship, hoping no one would notice him in the corner so he wouldn’t feel obliged to make painfully awkward small talk. Only about half the Blackwatch team trusted him, and just barely at that. The others? Jesse thought the world would have to end before the thought of Jesse McCree and teammate together could even cross their closed minds. 

Jesse pulled his hat down over his eyes when others started filing on the ship, and while this wasn’t his first mission, he still got jittery with nerves. He was only put on the easy scouting missions or something similar to that, to keep him safe or some shit like that. Jesse knew it was because he was a rookie at this though, and honestly, he was glad he could go on a mission of some sort without the very large threat of getting a bullet lodged somewhere in his body.

“Hey, McCree. Don’t sit in that corner, it’s where the losers sit! Come on, we don’t bite.” Jensen called when he saw Jesse sitting alone, motioning with his hand to join the group he was sitting with.

“Well, I mean, not all of us bite. Sometimes Haylie does.” Keenan sniggered, and Haylie smacked his arm.

“I do NOT. At least not when you don’t deserve it.”

“You have much experience with that then Keenan?” Jensen cackled, and that earned him a rough shove from Keenan and a high five from Haylie. Jesse smiled a bit at their playful banter, then he went over to join them, sitting next to Haylie after she patted the seat there.

“Don’t listen to those sons of bitches, they suck.”

“Yeah, suck your dick!”

“God, why are you so immature! I don’t even have a fucking dick!!”

“Psh, whatever. We all know you’re hiding something down there.”

“I will remove myself and Jesse from this conversation if you don’t stop talking like a fucking twelve year old with no filter!” Haylie threatened, and Keenan laughed, shaking his head while Jensen rolled his eyes in exasperation.

“You two are gonna be the death of me, you know that?” Jensen sighed, and then he leaned over to look at Jesse, his dark blue hair falling into his eyes a bit.

“This isn’t your first mission, is it Jesse? Do you mind if I call you Jesse?”

“Uh, nah, that’s fine. And it ain’t my first mission, no. They’ve been pretty simple so far.”

“Yeah, we call it the good ol’ rookie enhancement program here. Plop them in the boring and easy shit before you really get down to business. The higher ups get all the fun crap while we just do stakeouts for starters, but it’ll get better as you go.” Jensen told him, leaning back again and fiddling with something on his jacket absently.

“I hear we’re going to California! You ever been there Jesse, since you’re from the States and all?” Haylie asked, excitement colouring her tone as she bounced a bit in her seat.

“Uh, nah. I never really got away from Santa Fe ‘till now...” Jesse mumbled, scratching at the back of his head nervously and tapping his feet together.

“Aw, that’s no fun. Hey hey, I know the desert is hot, but like, how hot is it? Like, have you ever tried cooking an egg or something on the sidewalk?” Keenan piped up, brows raising as Jesse laughed.

“No, I ain’t ever tried ta fry an egg on the sidewalk, but it was probably hot enough in the summers ta manage it. The desert cools down about twenty degrees at night, so it’s nice as long as the sun ain’t tryin’ ta cook ya alive. An’ lemme tell ya, some days in the summer, it felt like it could. Fuckin’ hotter than hell.”

“Are mirages an actual thing?” Keenan continued, bright blue eyes wide with interest.

“Yup. I once thought I saw a bear in one of them canyon caves down in the gorge. It was movin’ around an’ growlin’, everythin’. But there ain’t no bears in the desert...Anyways, I was alone, so I figured the best thin’ ta do was try an’ shoot the damn thin’. Now this was fifteen year old me, so he wasn’t the smartest fella, but I was also dehydrated and sweatin’ bullets, so I wanted in that cave. Long story short, I wasted almost an entire round shootin’ at rocks and an empty cave, an’ the ricochet of one bullet nearly killed me. So yeah, they’re real.” Jesse finished with a little nod to himself, pushing back the memories of other, far worse mirages he’d had on the days spent alone out in the desert heat and sand, especially after a particularly brutal session in the Red Room. He shook off those thoughts, the other agent’s laughter pulling him to the present, and he grinned a bit.

“No shit? That’s pretty good.” Keenan chortled, and Haylie pushed her choppy blonde hair from her face before addressing Jesse again.

“So you’ve seriously only lived in the desert? Switzerland is just about the opposite of that, huh?”

“Yeah, I ain’t quite used ta the chill there. But it ain’t half bad when it’s sunny out an’ ya’ve been runnin’ fer an hour.”  

Jesse ended up conversing with them until they got tired, and then they took a nap on one another, Keenan and Haylie resting on each other’s shoulder while Jensen splayed out in their laps. Jesse smiled at them before standing and stretching, not feeling too tired himself, so he checked over his gun until that got boring. He wandered over to the windows, peeking outside and sighing when there was only ocean for miles, then deciding sleep would be the best way to pass all the time.  

--

California wasn’t half bad in Jesse’s opinion; the air was tangy from the salt from the sea, and the wind blew in from the mountains, so it wasn’t too hot. It was packed as hell with people and buildings, but the beaches were still clear and enjoyable. That’s where Jesse was, just wandering along the damp sand, fresh after a rain and their successful mission, and he looked around lazily. They were just waiting for a rendezvous ship at this point, and Jesse had gotten bored and wandered to the ocean. 

He stood at the surf and admired the churning, dark waves, the sky still cloudy but no longer heavy with moisture, head turning slightly when he heard footsteps approaching. A middle aged woman was walking towards him, black hair streaked with grey tied up in a neat bun atop her head, skin dark and tanned nicely. Jesse tipped his hat to her as she got closer, but then she stopped dead in her tracks, brown eyes widening and brows furrowing.

“Oh, Dios mío...¿Eres realmente tú...? (Oh my god...Is that really you...?) Jesse McCree...?” She asked in a wavering, Spanish lilted voice, Jesse frowning a bit. Those eyes were familiar in a way...

“That’d be me, yeah. Do we know each other?” Jesse inquired, still not quite able to place the face in front of him.

“I...Gabriella McCree. I—I’m your mother...”

Jesse stared at her for a moment, then shoved his hands into his pockets with a soft “tch”, eyes turning back to the ocean.

“Ya gotta be lyin’, ‘cause I never had one growin’ up. Stop fuckin’ with me.” Jesse growled, stepping away when the woman tried to reach out to him, those eyes imploring. Jesse recognized them now, they matched the ones that had left him so long ago with a broken promise to come back for him. There was no mistaking that face that had been burned into his mind that day.

“No, ya keep yer fuckin’ hands offa me, ya hear? I ain’t yer son, ya let go ‘a him the moment ya left that day.”

“No, no please you have to understand that we—“

“No, I ain’t gotta understand nothin’! Ya fuckin’ left me, an’ I don’t care why, ‘cause ya did! Ya left me with that son of a bitch brother o’ yers, an’ my life has been fuckin’ miserable since!”

“Please, no Jesse, we were going to come back—“

“But ya never did! Ya never came back, an’ now I find ya in fuckin’ California, enjoyin’ the beach after god knows how long! So enjoy it then, Ma. An’ leave me the fuck alone, ya didn’t have any trouble with it before. I want no part o’ yer lies.” Jesse bit out, flinching when Gabriella set her hand on his shoulder.

“Jesse...”

Jesse grit his teeth, glaring at the woman, this stranger that had the gall to say these things to him, and he felt absolutely nothing upon seeing the tears spilling down her cheeks. He whipped out his revolver in the blink of an eye, pressing it under the woman’s chin, fury making his hand shake.

“I said. Don’t. Fuckin’. Touch me.” Jesse whispered, voice dangerous, and Gabriella turned a shade paler.

“No...No please. I didn’t want to leave my baby boy that day, I didn’t want to leave you Jesse! You must understand that, in our circumstances that we couldn’t keep you—“

“Yer circumstances. Well goddamn, why don’t I just forget the shithole of a man ya left me with and the hell I’ve been livin’ in fer the past fifteen years an’ forgive ya like it’s nothin’! Obviously ya were right, I shoulda just waited a lil’ longer, that I shoulda believed yer lies! Well guess what Ma? I did! I fuckin’ believed you would come back fer me, an’ look where that got me!” Jesse roared, finger tightening hazardously on the trigger of his revolver in his rage before a voice cut through the sound of the waves and the woman’s blubbering.

“Jesse McCree!”

“Ah, fuck...” Jesse grumbled, shoving the gun back into the hidden holster and pushing the Gabriella away from him. She landed on her knees in the sand, staring blankly and sobbing silently. Jesse felt nothing, and he turned to a livid looking Reyes.

“Are you outta your goddamn mind?! Threatening a civilian?!” The commander hissed, and Jesse gave her a glare before storming past Reyes without answering.

“McCree? McCree! Son of a bitch, Jesse—!“

Jesse ran up the slopes and back towards the city center, ignoring the furious calls of his name and finding his way to the drop ship that had just come for them. He dropped himself into a seat in the corner heavily, yanking the brim of his hat over his eyes and glaring hard at his boots, arms crossed over his chest while his hands were stuck in tight fists. He refused to think about anything that had happened or been said in that encounter, and when Reyes came onto the ship a few minutes later, they took off without another word to each other.

--

“Agent McCree.”

Jesse rolled his eyes as his shoulders slumped a bit. He had been hoping the eleven hour flight would have been enough to make Reyes forget about his outburst and let his anger die down, but neither had happened, unfortunately.

“Sir.”

“Come with me.” Reyes growled with a quick motion of his hand, and Jesse tugged on the brim of his hat as he followed. He could feel the agent’s eyes on him as he tried to keep up with the commander’s long strides, and they eventually turned a corner and down a hall. 

Jesse tapped his fingers against the holster of his gun nervously, not really paying attention to where they were going until Reyes stopped outside of a room to type a passcode in. Jesse stepped inside after the commander, and the door shut, trapping him inside with a furious Reyes.

“Alright. What the fuck was that about?” Reyes asked in an all too calm voice, sitting down behind his desk and lacing his fingers together.

“Nothin’.” Jesse grunted, crossing his arms over his chest and staring just past the commander’s shoulder.

“Oh, so you just decided to pull a gun on a random ass lady that was walking past and enjoying her day at the beach for no reason then, is that it?”

“No.”

“No? Then do enlighten me on the matter.”

“It ain’t yer business.” Jesse mumbled, and Reyes’ brows furrowed over his dark eyes, anger dancing behind them.

“Excuse me?”

“I said, it ain’t yer business.” Jesse spat, arms falling to his sides, hands continually clenching and unclenching as he got the sudden urge to run.

“Wrong. You pulled a gun on someone in my division, under my specific orders not to, so that makes it my business to take care of it. That’s a major offense McCree, people don’t take a barrel pressed to their head lightly. This shit could get leaked, that lady could spread it, and you know how the UN just loves to jump all over our asses about this. So tell me, what the HELL was going on!” Reyes’ voice raised at the end, and he stood, hands pressing against his desk as he leaned forward. Jesse shot him a glare, keeping him mouth clamped stubbornly shut, and the commander sighed.

“Well then. You’re suspended from all missions from now on until I deem you fit for service again, and you’ll be practicing all day, every day for the next week for mouthing off and to make sure something like this never happens again. This will keep up until you give me a very, very good reason behind the shit you pulled, so unless you have anything to tell me, get your ass into the gym.”

Reyes waited through all of two seconds of Jesse gritting his teeth and glaring back at him in silence before he slammed his hands on the desk.

“Alright, get out. If you’re not in the gym in ten minutes, you’ll be doing push-ups all night, Agent McCree.” Reyes growled, and Jesse turned on his heel without a word and stormed out of the office, fingers itching to fight or shoot something. 

Fury was just barely kept at bay, along with other, less prominent feelings he refused to acknowledge-those would eventually go away if he ignored them long enough. Jesse went back to his room to change, throwing his hat onto the bed and kicking his boots to the side before pulling on his work-out gear, debating whether or not to bring his gun to practice after the session with Reyes. He figured his commander would make him work his ass off until he could barely move, so he decided against it, throwing on a jacket and pulling the hood up with a glare. 

Shoving his hands in his pockets, Jesse trudged to the gym, eyes downcast as he waited on the bench to be joined by Reyes. A few agents passed him while he sat, though they were all heading out for a late dinner or to their rooms for some rest, as late as it was.

“McCree.”

Jesse glanced up, internally groaning when he saw Reyes standing by the boxing ring and motioning to him. He stood slowly, then wandered over, feeling heavy since he walked off the ship earlier that day, but now it was overbearing.

“Take off the hoodie. You won’t want it.” Reyes demanded, and Jesse did as he was told without a word or complaint. They stepped into the ring, the commander tossing him a pair of boxing gloves before strapping on his own, sliding back into a defensive stance.

“I want you to work on your attacks, McCree. They’ve been sloppy lately, so focus on your stance and form. Remember your breathing. Now show me what you’ve got.” Reyes told him, making a little motion with his hand as Jesse advanced on him cautiously, smoothing his breathing down into a good rhythm. 

He then did a few quick jabs at Reyes, all easily blocked, but they were followed up almost immediately by a kick to the side of the leg. The commander had been expecting that, however, and he sidestepped before following up with a quick turn, snapping his arm out and into Jesse’s rib cage. The cowboy grunted, taking a step back and narrowing his eyes as he lowered his stance.

“No, no you’re just attacking me this time. Don’t go on the defensive, that’s my job this round. I won’t go after you until you get your attacks right.” Reyes chastised him, Jesse barely nodding as he moved towards the commander, throwing another few punches. He breathed in through his nose, out through his mouth, staying light on his feet and circling Reyes, adding a jab every now and then.

“Come on McCree, this is embarrassing! I taught you better than this! Don’t just dance around me, fight!”

Jesse growled and spun, whipping his leg out and catching Reyes in the side, though the commander wrapped his arms around the limb, pulling him to the side and tipping his balance. Jesse went with it, using the momentum to swing his other leg up and around the commander’s head, slamming himself into Reyes and taking them both to the floor in the blink of an eye. Gabriel blinked as Jesse stood and went back to his starting position, teeth gritted and eyes like steel. The commander stood slowly, then sank down again, motioning to the cowboy even as he was already launching into another attack.

“Let it out, kid. There’s no one here, you can let it all out.” Gabe hissed through clenched teeth, arms crossed in an ‘x’ over his head to block the punches Jesse was raining down on him. 

A growl left the cowboy at that, and he spun into another kick, knocking Reyes’ hands aside and whipping an arm out, palm slamming into his cheekbone. Gabriel reeled, Jesse’s glare deepening as he kept up his attack and breathing.

“That it? Come on! Come at me like you mean it! Let it out!” Reyes yelled, shoving Jesse’s unbalanced form away easily. Jesse steadied himself, then shouted as he put all the strength he could manage behind his punches, the commander falling back against the renewed onslaught.

“Let it out!”

Jesse twisted and slammed a fist into Gabe’s shoulder, another shout leaving him as his walls crumbled around him.

“WHY’D YOU HAVE TA LEAVE ME?! WHAT DID I DO WRONG?!” He screamed, tears streaking down his cheeks, still pummeling Reyes with weakening strikes.

“W-what did I do?! Why wasn’t I good e-enough?! Why didn’t ya love me...?” Jesse whimpered, hands falling to his sides and head drooping onto Gabriel’s shoulder, his own hunched as he clutched his head and sobbed into his hands.

“That’s it. I got you kid. Just let it all out.” Reyes told him as he stood straighter, arms wrapping around Jesse in a firm embrace. The cowboy heaved, hands covering his face as he scrubbed his palms over his cheeks.

“I don’t u-understand...! I dunno what I did s-so wrong that ya had ta le-leave me...An’ I’ve been so los-lost since, I dunno what t-ta do! J-just so lost on everythin’...”

Gabe hugged him until his cries died down, Jesse eventually pulling himself together enough to feel thoroughly embarrassed and humiliated by the whole situation.

“G-God I’m sorry. Cryin’ like a baby all over ya, I’m s-sorry. I’ll get outta yer hair...” Jesse mumbled, stepping away from the commander only to be stopped by the hand that was placed on his shoulder.

“Jesse, you need to stop bottling this up. I get it if you don’t want to talk to me about it, but at least go see Ana, okay? You aren’t bothering me with this. We all got shit trying to choke us up here, so if you ever need someone to talk to or beat the crap out of, just come get me. We’re a team here, and we help one another out, even on stuff like this, alright?” Reyes told him firmly, though there was understanding in his gaze, even kindness. Jesse nodded, wiping his nose and stepping off the practice ring, snatching up his hoodie. He slipped it on over his head, keeping the hood up to hide his blotchy red face, then went to the door.

“Jesse—“

“Yeah yeah, I’m goin’ ta Ana.” Jesse called in a weakly teasing tone, and he turned right before leaving to face the commander with a small smile.

“Thanks Gabe.”

“Yeah. Now get on outta here.” Reyes shooed him off with a slight quirk to his lips, arms crossed over his chest as Jesse went to seek out Ana like he had been told.

~~

[queenofmorolianspiders]

36

Send me one of these in my ask and I'll write a drabble about my character in accordance to that word! 36 - Flight

Somehow, they hadbarely scraped getting out of a fight with the defected Purge. QB washeavily injured; blood was dried across her body, some of it his, butmost of it hers. Even though she was certain she would have wonagainst him in a... dare she think it, fair fight,his abuse of spacetime powers often put her at an edge.

Hewas an enemy she just couldn't win against, and she had no idea howshe was going to protect her son-- no, not her son, this kidalternate of a Purge, she couldn't let herself think that-- from him. It had been implied that Alpha and this... asshole had beenalive for far longer than she, even though she felt they were bothlying to her and that it had only been a human's millenia. Eitherway, he had come from a far more violent realm than the others, Alphahad told her. He was a mobster, and the marks he had left on her, theones that she could feel but not see, sure were proof of it.

QB wasn't sure howthey had escape this time. All she knew was that her son—no, thekid, was supporting her, as best as his small frame could. She was inpain, but suffered as silently as she could, gasping in pain onlywhenever the kid had unintentionally hit a spot that the defunctformer Alpha had abused. The control of time and space wasn't justlimited to the air around them-- no, he had the know-how to speed orslow time on a single part of a person's body. He had aged parts ofher, slowed down rate at which she would feel the pain, so that itendured for longer. Even the air she needed to breathe, he couldmanipulate, sucking the air in and out of her chest, sometimes atpainful intervals. He always made sure to return it right beforeshe'd lose consciousness.

“I want you tosuffer,” he said. It was a line that QB had used all too oftenherself, one she was familiar with giving, and hearing, but not oftenon the receiving end of. “I am more than capable of it. The othermes? They're too weak. They couldn't stomach all that blood, beingright up close in the thick of it, torturing someone for a long time.Sure, some of them could tellothers to torture for them, or build robots for it, but I find thatto be... well, too impersonal.”He paused, looking over her battered form. “You know how it is.People just don't enjoy the trauma that comes from torture nearly aswell unless you're the one to eke it out.”

Shehad spit at him, blood mixed with her saliva, but it only made himlaugh before he wiped it away in disgust. “I would love to cut outthat tongue of yours, but oh, you're so quick-witted, that itwouldn't be any fun without someone to quip with. Come now, try me.I'd love to have a conversation this time.”

QBwasn't intent on giving him the satisfaction.

“Nothing?No?” His expression lightened at her, as though he had a suddenlywonderful idea. “Are you simply....” and with a movement of hishand, all the air had come out of QB's lungs. “Out of breath at thethought?”

Involuntarygasps could be heard as she struggled to breath.

“Tsktsk tsk... That's no way to answer the question. C'mon now, tryagain. Try to speak this time, okay?” and with a reverse sweep ofhis hand, all the air rushed back into QB's lungs as he spoke. “Ihaven't got all day.” Then he laughed, maniacally. “AHAHAHA whoam I kidding, I'm a freaking Alpha, I can makemyself have time.”

Thepower display was obvious; QB was certain she would die here, thoughshe'd do her damnedest to not give this bastard the satisfaction.  

Shehadn't heard the crash, or the shouting that happened when someonecame by to distract him. Her head was woozy, she couldn't seestraight, but there was a sense of urgency as someone small struggledto free her from the table she had been tied down to. A voice kepttrying to speak to her.

“...-om!!Mommy! C'mon, we gotta get you out of here, please wake up!”

Ah.Right. Him.

“.....s'notyer mother........ kid.....”

Therewas shouting right by her ear as she was helped up. She felt someonelift up her arm, a spiky tuft of hair itching at it as a head proppedit up.

“C'mon,Miss QB! We gotta go. Alpha's trying to hold him off but I can't openup a portal yet. I don't even know where to. I need you to do it!!Mom!!!”

Herhead had slumped down from exhaustion, she was almost about to passout, but the name calling perked her up a bit.

“....Isaid, I'm not--.”

“Yeahyeah I know okay? But I need you to get us out of here. I can't do itby myself, I don't know how to yet. Please Mommy, I need you to stayawake. You can rest later.”

QBgroaned. It seemed that the kid was doing it on purpose now to keepher awake. What a bother. After she had resolved to die withoutseeing him again, here he was. Trying to save her from a monster. Areal monster. One who had every intent on ripping him apart, stealinghis powers, his lifeforce.... destroying and taking from himeverything. And the kid knew it too.

“Can't.”She attempted to move her hands to show him; she wasn't sure howeffective it was, but the pain from doing that seemed to say she waseffective enough. “Magic-locking shackles. Power dampeners. Bastardknew what he was doing.”

“Okay,okay... I'll find the key! It's got to be here somewhere, right?”QB's eyes began to focus again as she saw the purple hair of the kidcome into view. He dropped her arm as he began searching. She wincedin pain.

“On'im,” she hissed.

“Oh.Crap. Maybe I can.... stop time? Alpha said that I was gonna becomemore powerful than him... So... I should be able to do it, right?Right Mom?”

“Fuckif I know,” she said, struggling to keep upright. She didn'tremember anything that had happened after that, only that everythingwent white as she felt like she was falling.

Shehad come to at some time later, with the Kid propping her up again,and the fighting somewhere else. QB didn't know where. All she knewwas that she was at the same spot she was captured still.

“Mom?You awake?”

Adisgruntled groan responded to him.

Hegiggled. “'Don't call me Mom', right Miss QB?”

Shelifted up her head and let it fall in an attempt to nod.

“You'rereally banged up Miss QB. I don't know how, but we moved the fightaway. Alpha's trying his hardest to keep him distracted so we can getaway....” He sniffled. “But... But I don't know how! I don't knowhow to mask us, Miss QB! He could find a way to find us again! Idon't want to try and use my powers and then have him find us again,or hurt you even more, Miss QB! *sniffle, sniffle hic* I-I... I'm sosorry!”

QBblinked her eyes, trying to focus on the kid that was crying beforeher. She raised an arm to try and pat his head, but pain shot up andmade her stop. She closed her eyes, and looked. The shackles thatbound her power were off.

“Hey,”she said, more pain than soft. “Hey... Did you get them off? All ofthem?”

TheKid Purge wiped his teary-eyed face and snot on his sleeve. “Yea...I got the keys from him before they left. We can leave anytime now,but I was waiting for you to get back up. Please QB. I need you. Idon't know how to do anything on my own....”

Shestarted to sigh, but the pain in her chest made her cough from thataction.

“Fine...Fine...”

Asmuch as she hated fleeing, QB knew she was outmatched. She knew itfrom the beginning. There was no way she was going to win againstthat bastard that was after Kid Purge.

Ittook a few tries, but QB was finally able to snap her fingers,getting them away. She would have him walk them a bit before she'djump rifts suddenly, asking the kid every so often if he sensed howfar away they were yet from where Alpha and the other guy werefighting. It was when he finally told her that he couldn't that QBtold him to stop, and he leaned her against a wall.

Silenceensued for a few moments, though it felt like hours to the much moreimpatient child.

“Youlook like you got something to say,” QB said.

Henodded, trembling a little.

“Y-yeah...I'm just... wondering....”

“Whatabout?”

“Well...Are we gonna have to run from him our entire lives, Miss QB?”

[yutikyis]

Family Lunch

This post is cut both for extreme length and due to violence and harsh language. 

The mood was awkward. To say the least.  The small tavern was a comfortable enough place just a little outside Limsa. It mainly catered to traders and the occasional adventurer. Today it was largely empty except for the two Miqo’te sitting across from one another. The pair had exchanged a brief greeting and then silence had reigned.  Yuti fidgeted uncomfortably as she looked across the table to the woman who sat on the other side. This was not particularly a lunch she wanted to have truth be told. She’d been putting it off for months. Yet she really couldn’t anymore, especially not with her nameday coming up and with the undeniable fact that the red-haried Miqo’te on the other side of the table kept running into people she knew. They were family. They had to talk. Right? “So, Snowflake, I hear ya beein’ doin’ pretty well for yerself,” Reri said in a bored sort of tone, more to break the silence than actual care. She had a bottle of something undoubtedly alcoholic sitting in front of her which she’d snuck in. It was only Yuti offering the waitress enough money to cover a drink plus a little extra which had avoided it being a problem. She hadn’t actually taken a sip yet but just held the bottle, lightly tilting it back and forth, her eyes fixed on Yuti. “W-well enough,” Yuti answered stiffly, sipping her tea. Tea was good. Tea was relaxing. Tea provided her an excuse not to say more to her mother. It was perhaps the finest invention the Twelve had ever created. At very least it meant she could study her mother without feeling obligated to say more. The awkward silence that followed stretched into nearly a minute before Reri spoke again. “Twelve’s Sake, Snowflake, yer the one who asked me to lunch. I could be gettin’ hammered and laid, not necessarily in that order, right about now,” Reri said in annoyed disgust. “Either speak up or toss some gil on the table and get back to huggin’ flowers or whatever the shite it is you do in your spare time.” Yuti stiffened slightly at her words and took a deep breath, trying to keep the agitation from her posture. “Yes. Well. I wanted to see how you were. Considering we’ve been in the same area for months and haven’t exchanged m-more than a couple of words.It seemed about time.” Reri shrugged and took a sip from the glass bottle she’d brought with her to the restaurant. “I ain’t dead,” she said simply enough. “So seems like I’m doin’ pretty damn good if ya ask me. Been’ doin some huntin’, am trainin’ this Perky little Miqo in how not ta get her fool arse killed, been scr-” “Yes, thank you,” Yuti interrupted quickly. This had been a mistake and she knew it now. It was the same as any conversation between the two of them and she hadn’t been sure why she thought it would be anything but. Her mother had three settings and she’d already run through all of them. “Halone’s Big Stonkin’ Tits, Yuti, ya been here long enough and ya still act like yer ears are gonna fall off if ya hear anything more risque than a thank you,” Reri snorted. “I’ve seen those folk you hang around with. Either yer spendin’ your entire day in your room with your ears covered or ya somehow managed ta not hear anything that spear says. Either way I ain’t buyin’ it.” Yuti flushed red and fidgeted again, looking down at her half-empty cup of tea with a frustrated look. “I’ve c-certainly heard plenty, m-mother. T-that doesn’t mean I want to hear it from you. Y-you’re my-” Yuti started to say but Reri raised her hand and cut her off. “Yeah, I’m yer mother. Might be worth rememberin’ that ain’t meanin’ I’m dead and in the ground just yet. Little secret for ya, Snowflake. Mommies and daddies love ta do a lotta shite that’d turn yer face as red as that beret, seeing as we’re people and not baby-raising mammets, no matter what some Nuhns like ta think.” Yuti ground her teeth slightly.”Yes, but that doen’t mean-” “Doesn’t mean what? Ya want me ta slap on a ‘dignified’ face and pretend I’m somethin’ I’m not? Ain’t happening. Ain’t worth it. If someone ain’t happy about what I’m sayin’ they can go take a leap offa the Witchdrop as far as I’m concerned. Or they can try ta shut me up and give me a good fight.” Reri took another sip from her bottle, her tone lackadaisical.  “It isn’t about b-being dignified. It’s a-about showing respect for others,” Yuti said quietly but firmly. “N-not everyone wants to hear every lurid detail a-about your life you know.” Yuti fought to keep her voice steady and under control. “E-especially when you seem to d-delight in picking the w-worst things to say to someone.” “An’ if folks want my respect then they gotta earn it. Someone whose so ashamed o’ themselves they ain’t wanna admit basic facts ain’t worth respectin’. It’s how it goes Snowflake. Folks like fightin’, folks like drinkin’, and folks like screwin’. All that blushin’ and hidin’ your face and pretendin’ like ya don’t is just wastin’ time.” She sat up a bit straighter and raised her voice “OY! Anyone listenin’? I like ta *fuck*. Hopin’ that ain’t offendin’ any of ya! We can take it outside if you want.” Yuti covered her face with her hands and genuinely wished she could melt into thin air as the few remaining patrons in the bar, as well as the staff, all stared at her table in various degrees of shock, amusement and distaste. Reri looked around the establishment for a moment before she flopped back down in her seat. “Ya see, Snowflake? They don’t care worth a damn. Most folks are too wrapped up in their own business to care about what other people are doin’ unless it involves them.”  The awkward silence returned, even moreso than before as a good number of patrons were still casting sideways glanced over at the two Miqo’s table. Eventually Yuti spoke. “M-maybe so, but there is m-more to life t-than those things. I-it isn’t worth antagonizing people unnecessarily.” Reri snorted. “More to life than the four Fs? Like what?” “Love.” Reri rolled her eyes at that. “Loooooove,” she said, drawling the word. “Ain’t worth a single damn gil. What’s it got for ya, eh? It’s an excuse. Why do I wanna screw this person? I ain’t got the guts to say it’s because they’re hot. It’s because I loooooove them. Why am I puttin’ up with a cryin’ crappin’ rugkit? It’s love and it ain’t because the tribe needs young blood ta stay alive. Why do I want to get married? S’because of love, not because I’m afraid of bein’ left.” “No, mother. That isn’t it at all. T-that’s something you don’t understand. L-love is real. M-maybe you don’t feel it b-but I certainly do.” Reri’s eyebrows raised at that and a mocking smile crossed her lips. “Oh? Are ya in looooooove,” she drawled it out again, “That it Snowflake? Got someone who ya want ta be with?” “Yes,” Yuti answered simply and with a genuine smile. That seemed to catch Reri off guard and her tail flicked behind her. “Oh. Well, about Twelve-damned time. From what I’ve seen about halfa Eorzea was tryin’ ta bang ya. Mosta yer friends are too timid ta make a move on anyone so what kinda idiot wo-” “Shut up.” Yuti’s smile was gone and voice was firm and cold and cut through Reri’s words like a knife. “‘scuse me?” Reri’s expression changed slightly at that. Her own smile didn’t fade but it did become something more brittle and false.Her ears twitched and there was something cold and predatory in her gaze. “I said shut up. I’m not going to let you start this. Do you understand me? I’ve heard the sort of things you’ve been up to and I’ve had enough of it. If one more word about Tyr leaves your mouth I will close it for you.” The alien moment passed. Reri’s eyes warmed and glittered with amusement and she leaned forward, resting her elbows on the table. “Well, too bad, Snowflake, because I’m gonna keep goin’. So she’s named Tyr, huh? So tell me about her? How she is she in b-” Yuti’s hand came up fast. Faster than it would have a year ago. Yet Reri was faster. Her own came up and caught Yuti’s wrist, the other MIqo’te’s palm an inch from her cheek. Reri’s smile never wavered and she squeezed Yuti’s wrist hard. Yuti’s eyes fixed on her mother’s, near-identical shades of blue meeting one another. “Still too slow, Snowflake. Always going to be. Too easy to push your buttons too. You wear yer heart on yer collar,” Reri’s hand squeezed tighter still, threateningly tight. “I could kill ya right here and ya know it. Maybe go and comfort that poor little girl a’ yours a-” Yuti’s eyes blazed and she tilted her palm upwards. The burst of aetheric water she sent from her palm was shocking in its size and intensity, slamming into Reri at point-blank range like a firehose. The unexpectedness of it caught the older woman off guard and she lost her grip on her daughter’s arm, grunting in pain as she was slammed into the nearby wall with enough force that it rattled the small building.  The Bartender was on his feet at once but seemed reluctant to step between the two Miqo’te. Reri had slid slowly to her feet and a dagger had appeared in her hand. Yuti remained where she stood, rubbing her wrist softly. Yuti’s eyes blazed with hatred. Reri just looked empty and distant.  “So, ya really want to do this, Snowflake?” Reri asked quietly. “Because I ain’t opposed to it. You’ve needed a spanking for a while anyway.” She adjusted her grip on the dagger and her eyes betrayed nothing at all. “I ain’t gotta kill ya but maybe I’ll add another little scar to that face of yours. Give ya some character. Think Tyr’ll still like ya like that?” Yuti’s temper was entirely out of control now and she knew it. Her aether spiked and seemed to ripple off her in waves and her fingers clenched and unclenched. Every action seemed to just amuse Reri more. Far from being angry, the older Miqo’te looked excited, her tail dancing to and fro behind her shamelessly.  “Outside.” Yuti spoke calmly. She pulled a pouch of gil, far more than necessary, and tossed it on the table, pausing only to give the bartender an apologetic look. The glare she got back made it clear that no amount of gil would have her welcome back in this place again. She stepped out the front door, her mother inches behind her. Outside the two stood apart. Reri’s daggers were drawn, held in a lazy reverse grip, the woman swaying slightly on her feet like a boxer. Yuti’s scholar book book raised from her side and flipped open to the page full of symbols she used to amplify her magic. Neither looked away from the other. “So, Snowflake, ya want me ta give you the first blo-” Yuti was acting before Reri finished talking. She raised her hands and sent aether threw the symbols. The earth beneath Reri’s feet began to shift almost at once before jutting upwards in large blunt rock formations. The agile older Miqo’te dodges and weaved between the sudden burst of stone but one caught her off-guard, turning her evasive weave into an awkward tumble.  Reri’s curse filled the air even as she tossed one of her daggers, aiming for Yuti’s arm. With the unerring skill of a combat-trained Seeker the blade found its mark, sinking into Yuti’s shoulder and drawing an angry yelp of pain from the younger woman, her book falling from her hand to the dirt below. “Never bring a book ta a knife fight, Snowflake. Now say yer sorry and maybe i’ll-” The next movement was so unexpected that it caught Reri off guard. Yuti, far from retreating, sprang forward, her eyes blazing with anger. She extended her hand and a glittering blade forms of pure aether appeared in it. The radiant energy seemed to hum through the air as Yuti swung the weightless blade with surprising grace and speed. Reri weaved out of the way but not quickly enough, the energy sword catching her and tearing a thin gash in her side.  That seemed to genuinely shock Reri and she lashed out quickly with a kick that caught Yuti in the side, staggering her long enough for. the older to Miqo’te take an agile leap backwards, holding her bleeding side. She pulled her hand away and stared at the spattering of red there for a moment before she looked up, her expression confused. “... Where the Hells did that come from, Snowflake?” she said, a slow grin spreading across her face.  Yuti was panting softly as she looked at her mother. She let the aetheric sword fade away and reached up, tugging the dagger from her shoulder with a wince of pain, before she held her hand to the wound. The glow of magic danced around her fingers before the wound began to knit. “I brought a sword to a knife fight. I w-would have thought you approved,” she said coldly.  Reri’s laugh filled the air. “Well, how about that. Kitten’s gettin’ some claws after all. Ya still ain’t got what it takes but... that’s cute, Snowflake. It’s cute.” She adjusted her stance slightly, shifting her remaining dagger slightly before she cracked her neck. “So... how far we gonna go?”  “Far enough for you to get the lesson.” “Heh. Pretty damn far then. So be it.” The hand holding her side came up... holding a small device that she’d pulled from a hidden pouch on her coat. She tossed it towards Yuti with a quick movement. The other Miqo’te responded at once, sending forth a burst of air to catch the thing mid-throw. There was a moment of aeter meeting metal and then the grenade exploded, sending a cloud of smoke filling the air between the two. Yuti coughed wildly and gathered a whirlwind of air to blow the smoke away... but she’d lost track of Reri, the older woman having all but vanished in the sudden confusion. For most opponents that would have been enough to spell their doom. Most opponents didn’t have two decades of being ambushed by Reri Kyis under their belt. The older Miqo’te had taken to a nearby roof, scrambling up it as soon as Yuti was distracted, and the pounce from above should have been enough to catch her daughter off guard. Should have. As soon as it came Yuti was in movement, spinning out of the way almost at once, Reri’s attempt at a tackle turned into an awkward roll.  Yuti’s hiss of anger was the only sound to escape her as she gathered her aether again and drew more water from the air itself, sending it in a torrent towards the huntress. Reri had seen this trick once before though and she was prepared. She moved at once, sliding easily around the incoming stream of water, dagger flashing forward to press against Yuti’s neck.A finishing blow if there ever was one... Except Yuti caught it. Her hand came up, palm extended, and a barrier of aether energy flickered around it, blade meeting magic, sparks flying from the metal as it pressed against the reinforced shield. The blade was inches from Yuti’s neck, only magic and hand keeping it away. The two stared at each other, mother and daughter’s near-identical eyes fixed upon one another.  “I can keep going if you want to, Snowflake,” Reri purred. “This is a good fight. I’m almost prouda ya.” Somehow the compliment just made Yuti angrier and the younger Miqo’te’s brow furrowed as she gathered her aether. It was a sloppy blow but Reri wasn’t in the best of shape either. The stone that came up was more like a shower of pebbles than a genuine attack but it pelted right into Reri’s injured side, causing the older Miqo’te to grunt in pain and twist to cover herself. Yuti stepped forward at once and drew back her fist. She wasn’t strong. She wasn’t trained in fistfight. She wasn’t particularly talented. She was, however, angry. The aetheric barrier around her fist made for a perfectly good knuckleduster and she aimed a punch right for Reri’s face. The older Miqo’te looked up just in time to catch the blow, the force of it breaking her nose with a sickening crunch and sending her tumbling backwards onto the ground. Yuti was on her at once, straddling her, rage filling her eyes as she drew back to punch again... only to feel the sharp point of a blade pressed against her stomach. She glanced down and saw the blade of Reri’s dagger waiting to press forward.  Her eyes darted back up to Reri’s face, blood leaking from her broken nose, giving her a monstrous look, especially with the wide grin splitting her features. “We’d go to the Hells together, Snowflake,” Reri said in an almost bored voice.  “Keep goin’ if ya want. But ya see, Snowflake... I ain’t afraid ta keep goin’. And you are. S’why you stopped. Ya feel the steel at yer gut and yer scared... but it’s more than that.” Her eyes twinkled. “Yer afraid ta kill too. I ain’t.” Yuti’s hand trembled for a moment, fist clenching more tightly, the aether around it humming, before the glow faded. The younger Miqo’te looked miserable. Reri snorted for a moment and dropped her own dagger... and then using the same hand punched Yuti right in the stomach. The blow was so unexpected Yuti had no time to dodge. The healer gasped as the air left her lungs and Reri bucked, throwing her off and to the ground. Reri moved at once, bouncing to her feet. She knocked the beret from Yuti’s head and tangled her fingers into her hair, pulling her daughter to her feet. Yuti started to try to draw aether again but Reri’s next blow caught her right in the stomach again and she buckled, kept upright only by the other woman’s iron-tight grip on her hair.  “Ya see Snowflake,” she said in an amused voice. “It’s like I said. Ya ain’t got what it takes to step up to me.” Reri’s next blow was an open-palmed slap across Yuti’s face, the force of it turning her cheek bright red. “An’ yer gonna have to learn that.”  She was sounding bored again. “Yer scared a’ me and yer scared a’ fightin’ and that ain’t ever gonna change.” She considered it for a moment and then brought her leg up just as she tugged Yuti’s head down hard, slamming it hard into Reri’s knee with a loud cracking sound. The force of it made stars dance in Yuti’s vision, the beginnings of a brutal black eye visible as Reri tugged her head back up. “You best remember this next time you talk back to your momma, Snowflake. I ain’t one of your little friends. I’m the Tribe leader. You wanna take me down you better be prepared to bring all of it.” She pulled Yuti’s face up to her own with a smirk. The other Miqo’te had tears of humiliation and anger running down her face, her head pounding, barely able to think. “Say hi ta Tyr for me,” she said in a quiet voice and then gave Yuti one more knee to the stomach before she let her drop. Yuti curled up in a ball, trying to catch her breath, unable able to move as her mother looked down at her. There was something unreadable in Reri’s eyes. Not anger but something else entirely. She rubbed at her nose for a moment, pulling her finger away to study the crimson on her fingertips. She gave a small hum and ducked down, picking up Yuti’s beret and then dropping it like a shroud atop the crying Miqo’te’s head. With a shrug she walked away, leaving her daughter behind. 

[tomspeter]

Monsters of Men (Chaos Walking Qs)

1. We stopped one war, we can stop another.

2. Their Noise is a monstrous thing, tuned together and twisted round itself, roaring as a single voice, like a loud and angry giant pounding its way down the road.

3. “Wrong,” says the mayor. “It’s war that makes us men in the first place. Until there’s war, we are only children.”

4. “To save the body, ya sometimes have to cut off the leg.”

5. “All weapons have their weaknesses.”

6. I’m riding into a nightmare.

7. “And I was found by a boy,” I say, getting stronger. “A brave and brilliant boy who saved me over and over again and now he’s down there trying to stop a war the she started!”

8. If I was afraid, I’d be easier to control.

9. “War makes ugly necessity.”

10. “Think hard now. What you do first anywhere is remembered for ever. It sets the whole future.”

11. Would I start a new war just to save you? Would I?

12. Fighting is all that’s ever gonna happen in the world till we die

13. That’s the nasty, nasty secret of war– When yer winning– When yer winning, it’s ruddy /thrilling/–

14. And I’m still thinking of Todd, of all the death /I/ would have caused for him–

15. I untied a monster to save Viola. And now I’ve somehow gotta keep hold of the leash.

16. “You’re never more alive than in a battle.” “Never more dead after,” I say.

17. The land waits. I wait with them. And I /burn/ with the waiting.

18. For that is their name for me. The Return. But I have another name, too.

19. The rest are worth as much as their pack animals, I show. but worst is the one who knows better and does nothing.

20. “It’s too early for you to have grown up this much.” “Yeah, well,” I say, “sometimes you don’t have a choice.”

21. With no way to share our fear. No way to coordinate and try to protect ourselves. No way to be comforted as we died. And so we died alone. Every one of us.

22. A memory is not the thing remembered.

23. “Some nerve is exactly what’s going to keep my people alive.”

24. “I’ve got an adult way of going about it,” she says. “A way that isn’t nice or pretty, but that gets the job done.”

25. “You tried to kill me.” “I tried to kill him,” she says. “There is a difference.”

26. “Todd always said you went where the power was, I say. His eyes flash. “It’s what kept me alive.”

27. “You can’t make war personal.”

28. If this is what Todd and I would do for each other, does that make us right? Or does it make us dangerous?

29. “Ideals, my girl,” she says. “Always easier to believe than to live.”

30. “But if you don’t at least try to live them,” Bradley says, “then there’s no point in living at all.”

31. “Yes, you could have. Choices may be unbelievably hard but they’re never impossible.”

32. “There’s nothing on this planet that’s private, my girl. That’s the whole problem.”

33. They’re all ages, old and young, but all old in the eyes now.

34. “Leaders must sometimes make monstrous decisions.”

35. “I merely showed you the path. You walked down it all by yourself.”

36. “It’s desire. You wanted it to happen. That’s the secret to it all.”

37. “That’s because the desire of most folks is to be told what to do.”

38. “People say they want freedom, but what they really want is freedom from worry.”

39. The warrior who strikes too early is a warrior lost.

40. You believed what you hoped to be true, the Sky shows. Nothing I could have said would have taken that from you.

41. But then there’s her eyes and they look at you and don’t brook no arguments, don’t look like they ever doubt themselves, even when they should. Maybe they’re the eyes of a giant after all.

42. And neither of us answer. And the morning just feels colder.

43. “You can’t just stop fighting and call it peace, my girl,” Mistress Coyle says. “The war goes on even as you’re negotiating with the enemy.”

44. “Five and a half weeks and we can be together.” But she don’t say nothing to that.

45. “You’re the thing that matters most to me, Todd. Out of this whole planet, you’re the only thing that matters.” I swallow, hard. “You, too.”

46. “You think I want war for war’s sake, Todd,” he says. “But I don’t. I want victory. And sometimes victory means peace, doesn’t it?”

47. You rule alone, I show, feeling the weight if it. But I was not always alone, he shows.

48. They’re fighting a war over who can be more peaceful.

49. Wars make no sense. You kill people to tell them you want to stop killing them.

50. Monsters of men, I think. And women.

51. “And if you didn’t make personal decisions, you wouldn’t be a person. All war is personal somehow, isn’t it? For somebody? Except it’s usually hate.”

52. “I’m just saying how lucky he is to have someone love him so much they’d take on the whole world.”

53. But those people who die because we do it, don’t they have people who’d kill for them? So who’s right?

54. “The world changes all the time,” I say, hitching up Angharrad’s reins. “At least it does for me.”

55. My name is Todd Hewitt and I am a man of New Prentisstown.

56. “You don’t have to be my friend.” Her eyes get a little fire in them. “You just have to be his enemy.”

57. “Do we hate paradise so much we have to be sure it becomes a trash heap?”

58. Sizewise, she’s always been just smaller than me. But I think of her and I feel like she’s as big as the world.

59. “I was wrong. Men can’t be transformed. I will always be who I am. And you’ll always be Todd Hewitt, the boy who can’t kill.”

60. If you fight for him, you fight for us all.

61. If it’s the person that’ll end the war, Ben says. Then that’s not personal, it’s universal.

62. What a sad thing men are. Can’t do nothing good without being so weak we have to mess it up. Can’t build something up without tearing it down.

63. “War makes monsters of men, you once said to me, Todd. Well, so does too much knowledge.”

64. “You did transform me, Todd,” he says again. “You made me better. But only enough to see how bad I actually was.”

65. “For the last time, I ain’t you.”

66. He looks down at my uniform. “Are you sure about that?”

67. And there thru the snow, riding my horse, riding my bloody great horse–

68. VIOLA. Cuz she’s here– She came– She came for me– And she calls my name–

69. Because even the one you hate leaves an absence when they go–

70. It’s a hell of a thing to kill someone– Even when you think they deserve it–

71. But we hope. And that hope is so delicate, I’m scared to death of letting it out.

~

wow. patrick ness is a literal genius. i still miss manchee

[masked-fox-creations]

When the Strangers Blew In, Ch. 22

This is the penultimate chapter. I'm a little bit in disbelief that we've made it here.

Summary: Stanford and Stanley Pines dream of a different life. One where they’re not just tidying their pa’s shop or helping ma take care of the baby. Where they can live freely as the men they know they are, instead of pa hounding them to marry before they become spinsters. They get a taste of that possibility when two strangers blow into town, but with them comes a heap of trouble.

Pairings: Rick/Stan (stanchez); Fiddleford/Stanford (fiddauthor)

Warnings for this chapter: Just some good old fear of the future.

ao3 link

Chapter 22— Ice is Crawling Up and Down the Walls

Both twins were awake. Soon they would be in Gravity Falls once again. Their only hope was the forest.

“Jeff’s always keeping an eye out for us,” Stanley whispered to his brother, eyeing the other men. “Once he catches whiff of us he’ll do anything he can to take us for himself.”

“Giving us ample opportunity to free Rick and Fidds, then get far from here.”

Stanley flashed him a grin.

“If he tries to boil these scaly gaffs alive I ain’t stopping him.”

Stanford had to bite back an agreeing laugh. He snuck a hand into his dress to check on the knife. It was safe and sound, waiting eagerly for its opportunity to shine.

As time went on, however, the pair began to grow nervous. They weren’t heading in the right direction.

“Alright, you hold up!” Stanley called out, stopping his horse. The other men stopped, as well, Filbrick turning around to glare at them. “Where the hell are you taking us?”

“Back where you belong,” Filbrick growled. “Now start moving or I swear—“

“We should have gone west,” Stanford interrupted, ignoring Filbrick’s scowl. “It was a straight ride there.”

“You really think it’s your place to question me, Leanne?”

“I think we ain’t taking another step further until you tell us exactly where you’re taking us,” Stanley replied firmly. His twin nodded.

“Whoa now,” Powers interjected, moving between them. “Ladies, I assure you we are on our way to Gravity Falls. We’re simply going the long way around the forest. It won’t add that much time to our trip.”

“What!” the twins exclaimed in unison. “Why?”

“You know it too well.” With that Filbrick turned his horse around. “Now move, or else your pets don’t get water tonight.”

Grinding his teeth, Stanley snapped Chestnut’s reigns. He rode fast past Powers without a glance.

Stanford’s hands tightened around his waist. He turned his head a fraction and whispered, “Get some sleep, Sixer.”

“Our plan, though! What are we going to do now, Lee?”

The desperation in his voice twisted Stanley’s gut. He reached down with both hands and squeezed all twelve of Stanford’s fingers.

“This isn’t the end, Sixer, come on. We can’t give up that easily.”

He grinned wide at Stanford, summoning all the courage he could muster. At first Stanford simply gazed back at him, brow furrowed in frustration. Stanley just kept grinning, however, and eventually Stanford returned it.

“You’re right. Especially since we’ve made it so far. I rather like the taste of freedom.”

“There’s your fighting spirit! We…we can’t lose that, Sixer.”

“No, of course not. We’re not beaten yet.” He laid his head against Stanley’s back. “Wake me should we get any other surprises.”

——

Hours later they came up on the Sprott Farm. The man himself was tending to some pigs, and when he saw them hailed Filbrick. Stanley nudged his twin awake.

“I see you’ve wrangled your little troublemakers.”

“The young Pines girls are back safe and sound,” Powers confirmed. “Thank you for pointing out the way.”

The twins narrowed their eyes at the old farmer.

“No problem, sheriff, it was my duty. Though I think you’re too soft on them. I swear on my soul they’re witches and should be burned at the stake!”

Filbrick snorted. “They wouldn’t do me any good then.”

Filbrick rode on, and the others readily followed. The twins gestured rudely at the farmer as they passed him.

“Hope your farm doesn’t magically catch on fire again,” Stanley taunted.

“If you hear any mysterious words whispered in Latin, I do hope you’ll think of us.”

Sprott seemed truly terrified; it was a small victory but the twins savored it.

It wasn’t long until they passed into town. The sun was setting in Gravity Falls and few people were walking about. Those that were didn’t cast them a second glance.

“On your feet,” Filbrick ordered.

“Why?” Stanley questioned.

Filbrick advanced menacingly on Rick and Fiddleford, hand reaching for his pistol. The twins quickly dismounted their horses. Before they could react Powers was behind them, grabbing hold of their arms in a vice-like grip.

“What’s going on?” Stanford demanded.

“Some jail time ought to do you two some good. At least it’ll keep you out of my hair,” Filbrick answered coldly.

“Wait! What’re you gonna do with them?” Stanley asked, looking frantically at their wide-eyed partners.

“They’ll pay for their crimes.”

The twins yelled and struggled as Powers dragged them to the jailhouse. Too weak from the trek they could not break away.

“You son of a bitch!” Stanley snarled. He threw a punch, but the awkward angle kept him from landing the hit.

“I know you’re upset, girls, but there’s nothing you can do. You can’t interfere with the law.”

“Not once has the law ever helped us,” Stanford said as they were pushed into the sheriff’s building.

Deputy Trigger sprung to his feet.

“Sir! You’re back.”

“Open a cell for me.”

Trigger hurriedly did so. The twins dragged their feet, but still Powers shoved them into the cell and slammed the bars closed.

“Now I’m letting you girls stay together, instead of putting you in different cells. Better for you to comfort each other.”

In lieu of gratitude, Stanley spat on his face. Calmly Powers wiped it off then turned around.

“I need to go prepare for the execution.”

The twins’ blood froze cold.

“Execution?” Stanford repeated, voice barely more than a wisp.

“As soon as morning comes, Rick Sanchez and Fiddleford McGucket will be hung.”

Powers marched out of the building without another word. Stanley gripped the bars until he was white knuckled, staring at the door in disbelief. He only turned when he heard a thud behind him.

Stanford had sunk onto the hard cot, slumping against the wall. Stanley sat down beside his twin, wrapping an arm around him and squeezing.

“It’s gonna be alright, Sixer. It’s gotta be.”

“I don’t know how. We only have a few hours until morning, with no idea where they’ve taken Rick and Fiddleford. Not to mention we are stuck in jail. I…I don’t know what to do, Lee.”

Stanley tried to put on a brave front, but quickly deflated. With a sigh he admitted, “Me neither.”

Stanford clutched at his chest where the knife was tucked away. They glanced warily at the deputy; he had dozed off in his chair.

“Too bad we can’t get out of here and slice his throat, then we could go find Rick and Fidds.
 “Stanley,” Stanford spoke softly, and his twin turned back to him, “do you think that if you had the opportunity, you’d be able to kill Filbrick?”

He took Stanford’s hands in his and answered, “Gladly.”

A ghost of a smile crossed his lips.

“I meant ability wise, but I’m glad there was no hesitation.”

“Oh, right, he’s a good shot. But remember, everyone makes mistakes.”

“He already made plenty,” Stanford agreed, voice suddenly hard. Stanley nodded.

“They all did.”

“Now if only we could get out of this cell, catch them unawares.”

The twins looked around for any possible hope of escape. The walls and bars were solid, however. Together they sighed.

“If we don’t get out in time…” Stanley started, unable to finish the horrible possibility.

“We’d avenge them. After that, I don’t know.”

Stanley glanced at where the knife was hidden, commenting, “We’ll think of something if it comes to that. But we ain’t beat yet.”

“Maybe not, but soon they will be.” He sighed. “You know, right now all I want is to see—”

Suddenly the door flew open and in unison the twins exclaimed, “Ma!”

“My babies!”

Trigger jumped up looking quite befuddled. As ma rushed to them the deputy tried to stop her. She swiveled on her heels and grabbed him by the front of his shirt, glowering at the man.

“If you think you can keep me from seeing my babies, you better be prepared to taste the hand of death, deputy.”

Trigger held up his hands in surrender. Ma released him, patting his cheek.

“There’s a smart boy.”

Two other figures giggled from the doorway and came over to the deputy, taking his arms in theirs.

“Howdy, deputy Trigger!” Susan greeted exuberantly, tossing a wink at the twins.

“Why don’t you sit down right here with us while Martha visits with her twins,” Carla said, disguising the obvious order as a suggestion.

The girls led him back to his chair, Carla sitting on his lap, while ma came over to the cell. Stanley and Stanford were already at the bars, disbelieving smiles wide on their faces.

“Ma! What’re you doing here?”

“I had to come see you two,” she answered, placing a hand on either’s cheek. “Carla saw you being dragged here and came to the Wentworth’s home to grab us. I left Shermie with her ma. We’ve been staying there since you two left.”

“I’m sorry we left without telling you anything first,” Stanford apologized sheepishly.

“Did you get our note?”

“I did, but Filbrick took it before I could hide it. I don’t blame you for leaving, sweeties, but I’m so happy to see you again.”

Though it was difficult she managed to kiss their foreheads through the bars.

“So, uh, about that note,” Stanley chuckled nervously.

Martha lifted their chins so she could look them both in the eyes. Firmly she assured, “Whether yer girls or boys, you are my babies and I love you. All I want is for you both to be happy.” She gave them a warm smile. “Those are some cute names you picked out. Let me guess—Stanford, Stanley?”

The twins beamed as ma pointed at either one, guessing correctly.

“You’re amazing, ma!”

“The names fit you. Now, we have more important things to focus on. Like getting you boys outta here.”

Even as a warmth swelled in their hearts at ma acknowledging their gender, there was still a pit of desperate dread.

“They took Fidds and Rick!”

“We aren’t sure where, but we do know that by morning they’re slated to be hung.”

Ma’s brow furrowed. “Those bastards. I swore ta Filbrick if he hurt any of ya I’d shoot him myself, and I damn well mean that.”

“Do you have any idea where he could have taken them?” Stanford wondered.

Shaking her head ma told him, “I have no clue. But don’t look so down! Yer ma has a plan on busting you at, at least.”

“Great!”

“And I think I have an idea how to save them,” Stanford announced, grinning. “Ma, this may be hard to believe, but there are creatures in the forest. The ones we need are called gnomes. They’re very tiny and wear red pointed hats—”

“Oh, ya mean those strange little men that run around the forest? Before I married Filbrick they tried ta make me their queen. Cute little fellas, but don’t know how to talk to a woman.”

Stanford and Stanley stared at her gobsmacked. Slowly they began to laugh.

“I guess Jeff has a type,” Stanley guffawed.

As they calmed down Stanford explained what they’d need. Ma nodded intently, promising to return soon. For the first time in what seemed a very long while, hope bloomed inside of them.

—— Through the small barred window in their cell the twins could see a sliver of sky. Stars were out and shining in abundance; there was no moon. They should have been napping while they could but between the uncomfortable conditions, Trigger’s watching eyes, and their own frayed nerves both were wide awake.

Stanford was leaning against his twin, feet dangling over the other end of the cot. He was staring out into the quiet night as Stanley glared at the deputy. The lawman himself wasn’t paying them much mind, casting constant glances at the door as though expecting powers to return at any moment. Truth be told it worried the twins that he hadn’t, either trusting trigger’s competence, underestimating their resourcefulness, or readying the execution.

“Hey Sixer?” Stanley whispered, causing his brother to look up. “Not that I’m complaining, but why do you think they’re waiting until morning to hang ‘em? Why not do it now?”

Stanford’s face scrunched in contemplation. The gears turned in his head for a moment. Eventually he admitted, “I have no idea. Perhaps the sheriff, through some misguided sense of duty, didn’t want this to appear like a vigilante hanging. That wouldn’t look good on any of them, and you know appearances are everything.” Stanley snorted. “That sounds like those pompous—”

Their musings were cut short by the door once again bursting open. Trigger was on his feet in a flash. He was then knocked off of them as ma reeled back and punched him square in the jaw. Something glinted on her fist; brass knuckles.

Before he could recover something flew at his neck, embedding itself there. Trigger tried to stand but only managed to swagger back down. In a moment he was out cold.

Carla looked at the blow dart in wonder. “Those little gnomes were right, this stuff is potent. Too bad it’s hard to make.”

“I don’t think you even needed to punch him,” Susan commented, nudging Trigger’s limp body with her foot.

“I wanted to.” Ma leaned over and ripped the keyring from his belt. “Alright, Stanley, Stanford, let’s go save your men.”

[hiruma-musouka]

soulmates see color (IzuMito)

Happy late birthday @elenathehun​.  I wrote IzuMito like you wanted ^.^  💕 

(AO3 link - contains all author notes)

This is fucking ridiculous.

Izuna drags a hand down his face, closing his eyes to the massive warehouse full of various merchandise, and sincerely regrets asking his father for this mission. He certainly hadn't wanted to accompany Uncle Kenrou's group to the western desert with his brother (of all miserable places), but he also hadn't realized at the time that he'd have to track this group of thieves south and east to cut over nearly the entirety of Hi no Kuni, sneak past patrols from several different clans (most of whom would love to kill him), and then curve back upwards to stop within kunai-throwing distance of the Yu no Kuni border.

And now he's finally caught up to his quarry, except they've already sold his client's priceless (and pointless) trinket to a merchant.

A very successful merchant.

One who possess an unnecessarily large stock in his opinion and is either the most disorganized and eclectic woman Izuna's ever come across or who has evidently met her soulmate and decided afterwards to implement a color-based organizational scheme among her products.

Which makes this night so much better given that to him everything just looks like a mass of yellows and grays with a scattering of blues.

What kind of inconsiderate, inefficient, and short-sighted merchant organizes their warehouse by color!? Yes, yes, there are obviously individual groupings of similar items among each greater section - furniture with furniture, rugs with rugs, jewelry with jewelry - but at least seventy percent of the average population is color impaired in some way at any one point in time! How the hell does she stay in business? Does Akiyama only hire workers who can see in full color?

... No. No that would be foolish, Izuna realizes, silently drumming his fingers on his sword hilt. Akiyama didn't establish a large mercantile network by vastly limiting her employee base. If her merchandise is organized by primary color after it's purchased, and all the employees know the organizational scheme, then items wouldn't need to be rigorously labeled for color as long as there's at least one full-sighted staff member who can run checks that the system is being maintained.

Theoretically, it might shave time off in day-to-day affairs. If time is money, that's obviously a benefit from Akiyama's perspective.

This, of course, does not change the fact that Izuna doesn't know the warehouse's system and thus can not easily rule out any areas. He also can't afford to genjutsu one of the workers to fetch it for him because his client wants the theft kept as quiet as possible which means any potential evidence of his presence is a bad idea. And he has to find it tonight because while he has confirmation that one of Akiyama's employees purchased it five hours ago, he has no idea how long it takes this branch to process items.

"A brilliant emerald in a silver setting," Izuna mutters, eyes darting from one end of the building to another. Silver's easy enough, he knows he sees that in the same shade as his matched parents, but emeralds are supposed to be green and green is one of the most widely common problem colors. He has no idea what green actually looks like to soul-matched people, but...

'Red for running blood

Pink for sakura blooming

Orange for mikan

Yellow for the sun

Green for healthy, growing grass...'

Izuna may or may not pout like he's ten-years-old again as he mentally double-checks part of the color haiku. Grass under a summer sun always appears to be a yellow or gray-yellow to him. Which is a problem because over half of the contents of this room are in some variation of yellow!

He resists the urge to sigh and makes his way to the right. He'll need to run a systematic grid search to make sure he doesn't miss the pendant given its small size. At least he can rule out anything that's colored an intense blue. Judging from past experience, those items have to be either legitimately blue or some shade of purple.

... This would be a lot easier if he could afford to use a brighter light.

( It's going to be so very satisfying when he turns those thieves in for their bounty on top of his mission pay. He's positive they must have a bounty among the civilians: he can't be the only person they've angered if they've successfully robbed a noblewoman while being incompetent enough to still get noticed. )

.

.

Izuna finally finds the uselessly overpriced bauble at around four in the morning. He's tired, cranky, twitchy from dodging random guard checks, and suffering a horrendous headache both from straining to see details in low-light and from frequently flicking his sharingan on and off for better night vision.

The palm-sized pendant really doesn't look impressive enough to be worth this hassle, if he's honest. He's aware it must be very expensive considering the size of the gemstone and the mission fee his client is willing to pay for its retrieval, but from a purely aesthetic point of view Izuna can barely think of anything to recommend it. The emerald looks like solidified incense ash to him even if the silver is molded in an admittedly elegant, antique design.

But a mission is a mission and his is finally done. He even has a little time left before his family starts worrying, which means he has the opportunity to do something for himself.

Maybe he'll take the scenic route back after disposing of the thieves who have lingered nearby. He's never seen the ocean before.

.

.

"We dead. We so dead."

"Shut yer mouth and keep moving! We'll just— we'll put 'er in the pit with the others and be done with it! Nobody's gonna dig up all of those bodies just looking for one girl."

"She got a devil's hair, Taro, a devil's! Ain't seen nothing like it, but y'know the stories. Only the Uzumaki got that 'round these parts." Masaharu starts breathing harder, eyes darting around the inn, frantic mania building under the surface as he searches the shadows of the room. "They catch spirits with glowing chains and eat 'em alive. They know things - know how to write down stuff, make all kinds of things happen. Don't even need words! Just squiggles and paper and—"

"MASA!" Taro snaps, punching his friend firmly in the shoulder. Masa's eyes dart back to his, jerked out of his high pitched rambling. "She's got buns. It's a hairstyle. There isn't anything devilish about it. Now grab that man—" he pointed towards a dead fisherman with blue-tinged skin, bloodshot eyes, and a mouth covered in vomit "—and start getting 'em all on the damn cart. We've gotta get all these folks buried before we can leave, you know that."

"It ain't the style, Taro," Masaharu whispers, fearful as a child. "It the color. It like, like blood Taro. It look like blood and flowers. 'Taint natural."

Of course it's the color, Taro curses internally. Damn Masa's useless soulmate. She met the man, put all these stories in the poor fool's head, and then up and got herself a wasting sickness months later instead of sticking around to deal the results of her messing with her man's brain.

"Listen. Masa," Taro says reassuringly, shaking the idiot's shoulder until he looks at him. "I don't know what color you're seeing, but it's just light colored hair, alright? Look at 'er," he says, waving towards the inn's stairs where the visiting teen had collapsed earlier, sprawled out on the last steps in a simple dress like any other village girl. "She isn't going to do anything. We'll bury them all and be done with it alright?"

Masaharu gulps. "It bad luck to bury the livin', Taro."

"Hey, hey," he scolds, when Masa's attention wanders back to the girl. "She's just a bit slow to die, alright? Some people just die hard, that's all. You heard what those shinobi told us: the poison's fatal, alright? She'll be dead before long just like the rest."

Masaharu hesitates, wringing his sleeves and looking around the inn at all the corpses, each crumbled to the floor wherever they'd been standing when the poison in Taro's pipe smoke had triggered the stuff they'd drunk . "Don't seem right, ta me. It just don't seem right..."

"Well right doesn't keep food in our bellies, Masa, and there isn't any work but what the shinobi wanted. I don't much like it myself, but I'm not gonna let you and me suffer a slow death." Masaharu shudders at the idea and Taro gives him a grim smile and a friendly pat. "Now, have I let you down? Left you behind before even when I maybe should've?"

"No. You're a good friend."

"Right you are. And you're the same to me. So you get the others on the cart, and if it bothers you so much, I'll deal with the girl myself, alright? Alright. Now speed it up, that shinobi was clear about not getting anything till the job is done." He shoves Masa off towards the other bodies and heads to the stairs.

Maybe now they'll actually get somewhere quickly if Masa can just keep focused. He loves the idiot but damn if his brain isn't frustrating occasionally. If the girl just hadn't stopped by earlier today to check in, they'd have had the entire place clear by now.

Taro slows as he approaches the teenager, slipping a hand into his kimono warily and grabbing the shortened fukiya and darts that the shinobi had handed over alongside the poisons. Masa is damn superstitious and probably overreacting, but then again he might not be. The older man always sees things very simply, but sometimes that means he gets straight to the important point without getting fooled by distractions he doesn't understand. Sometimes Masa really is right when his stubborn brain says 'danger', and Taro would be a moron himself if he didn't at least consider it.

And here... well, the girl likely isn't a devil - Taro's mostly sure devils don't get themselves poisoned by normal folks hired for coin - but Masa's right that there's something off about the young woman.

For starters, she actually isn't dead. Which stands out a lot given that the two of them had just spent twenty minutes hauling the bodies of other people who had all died damn near immediately. In addition, now that he's seeing her properly, it looks like he was maybe exaggerating a bit when he assured Masa that the girl is just dying hard. She doesn't much look like she's moving on to the afterlife.

In fact... if anything... Taro would say she looks like she's crawling her way back.

Taro stops a few feet away, staring warily as the teen stirs, eyes shifting under their lids. He glances over her, looking at the dark golden hair buns, the bluish diamond in the middle of her forehead, the pale skin, the cream yukata, the simple sandals...

She's a pretty one, Taro realizes, suspicion dawning as he takes half a step further back, bringing up the fukiya to his lips as she cracks open her eyelids, squinting woozily up at the ceiling with dark colored eyes. She's a pretty one, of marriageable age, with no man accompanying her, and traveling alone... but she was comfortable and composed and rock-solid confident.

The woman's lips pull tight the slightest bit and if he hadn't been getting a little unnerved himself, Taro probably would have missed when she abruptly rolled and tried to shove herself up with an arm. As is, his first dart only grazes her neck and if she hadn't stumbled from the rigged smoke she'd inhaled earlier, he wouldn't have had the chance to reload and fire another.

The girl yanks the poisoned dart out of the meat of her shoulder without a second of hesitation and sends him such a furiously unyielding look through the nauseous tinge to her face that even though she starts to collapse, Taro hurries and hits her with another dart as well.

The girl hits the floor with a muffled thump, and Taro darts a look over his shoulder to check for Masaharu. Luckily the other man is currently on one of his trips outside so there won't be any additional freaking out over this.

Not that it wouldn't be deserved, Taro thinks, knuckles tight around the fukiya as he resists the urge to rub his worn omamori charm between his fingers for good luck. That girl definitely isn't normal after all.

Something dark starts to spread out on either side of the diamond on the girl's forehead. It's colored like spilled ink or black bruising or seeping poison depending on which of the now paranoid voices in his head Taro listens to, and its shape changes as it slowly crawls across the girl's skin. For brief moments Taro swears he can see bits and pieces of words in the messy lines forming on the teen's face - as if a sentence of old calligraphy had been stretched and squeezed and then came to life as writhing worms so that a secret language could inch itself across her pale face.

It's just as unnatural as Masaharu swore she was, and with gritted teeth Taro hauls her up on his shoulder and swiftly makes his way to the cart.

He's not sure he believes in devils or curses, but right now the other possibility is shinobi nonsense and that's just as dangerous and bizarre.

They'll be better off getting done and then getting gone.

.

.

The thieves' heads had not been as valuable as Izuna had hoped for, but at least the ocean is living up to its reputation.

He kicks his foot idly as he lounges on a high branch, watching the waves ebb and flow. The tree is tall enough to provide a good view of the sprawling shoreline while still hiding him in its shrouding canopy, and there's a wind coming through that edges the temperature over from unpleasantly humid into tolerable. The sea shines under the setting sun, glimmering off blue waters as far as the eye can see and for a brief moment Izuna activates his sharingan, memorizing it for later.

The trip here is a nice variation in routine, Izuna thinks, eyes drifting over yellow-white sand and up to the tree line where summer boughs are heavy with dull brown and murky yellow leaves. The sight wouldn't be enough by itself to be worth the long travel time it would take to visit again though. And given that his clan doesn't have any alliances past the Senju lands in the east, and few of their customer requests take them this way for anything but pitched battles, he's unlikely to return.

Suppressing a yawn, Izuna shifts, setting down against the trunk for a light nap until darkness fully sets in and he can start making his way home with less likelihood of being spotted. He strains his senses to detect anything out of the ordinary — unusual sounds or a lurking presence — but there's no sign of anyone who might be a threat. There's only the sun on his face, the tree at his back, and the wind carrying the scent of salt and smoke...

Smoke?

With a frown, the fourteen-year-old climbs up the tree as far as it will bear his weight, taking deep breaths and confirming the hint of smoke and ash on the breeze. He looks windward to the north, towards a town he had avoided earlier while putting distance between himself and Akiyama's warehouse. There's the faintest hint of blackish-gray smoke trailing up from the forest and Izuna eyes it, trying to decide if he should investigate. Most likely it was started by civilians rather than anything spontaneous given it had rained recently, so the chance of it developing into an out of control forest fire is low enough...

He rubs his thumb over the wrappings on his sword hilt, debating with himself before triggering his sharingan, and flinches in surprise at a gleaming star of flickering chakra in the center of his sightline.

Izuna drops to the forest floor quickly, sticking to the waxing shadows as much as he can and heading for that beacon of power. It would be reckless to engage someone that strong without cause this far from his clan, but it's better to have information on who it might be and if he'll need the advantage of attacking preemptively.

The smell of burning wood with an edge of metal increases as he approaches and Izuna slows, slipping back up into the trees and taking the slower route over the branches in favor of a lower chance of being spotted. He can see two civilian-level chakra cores now that he's closer, both barely a wisp of energy next to that building blaze, but there are no other shinobi present.

The trees end ahead, opening up onto a large clearing with a roughly dug pit. There's a burning cart not far off and bodies dropped into roughly stacked piles. Two men steadily move around, dragging the corpses one-by-one to the pit and throwing them in.

The source of the chakra is a girl with fair hair laying face-down on the ground some distance from the corpses. The twitcher of the two men gives her a wide berth at all times, and Izuna's brow furrows, trying to figure out how two civilians got involved with what he'll bet his sword is an downed kunoichi. Or why they're disposing of civilian corpses in a mass grave. The bodies don't look right for natural deaths of illness or starvation, and they don't have the wounds he'd expect on war casualties. And although he can't rule out that another shinobi killed them all and these two are stuck dealing with the leftovers, villagers burying neighbors would show more respect in the tone of their actions and treat the bodies like bodies rather than a grim chore to slog through as quickly as possible without a care for roughness.

The girl starts moving, rolling herself over to reveal a pretty face with odd tattoos covering her skin from hairline to the collar of her outfit, and the corner of Izuna's mouth shoots up along with an eyebrow when the twitchy man freaks out and the calmer one spins around and shoots the girl with a dart.

He should have just slit her throat if they're worried, Izuna thinks derisively, watching the pretty pathetic scene of two men failing to deal with incapacitated threat. Not that it's any more impressive that the kunoichi got downed by a poison dart. She has all that chakra but apparently no idea how to use it. What a waste.

He watches them hurry through dealing with the last bodies before grabbing the girl. The twitchy one holds her like she's already the maggot-eaten corpse she'll become in a few days, and they throw her into the ditch on top of the other corpses and start rapidly piling dirt over her body in shovelfuls.

Izuna takes one last look at her face, debating about wasting valuable steel by throwing a kunai for a mercy killing. Given her chakra levels, she's more likely to die through the suffocation of being buried alive than the poison she's fighting off, and that's not anywhere near the type of death he would want for himself.

Suddenly her tattoos alight, nearly blinding now in his sharingan, and a visible blaze of light shines through the shower of soil, swirling into the now-writhing lines on her skin with a rush. The kunoichi's eyes slit open, lip curling lightly into the beginning of a snarl as she glares up towards the edge of the pit from her prone position.

Izuna curses aloud as her chakra spikes violently, throwing himself out of the tree at the realization that those are seals instead of tattoos, and has just enough time to rush through a doton jutsu and hit the ground before the world implodes.

Several tumultuous seconds later, a half-deafened Izuna cracks open an eye from his prone position on the ground, feeling a little like that time he'd failed to dodge correctly and his father had accidentally cracked him upside the head with a shinai. There's something about a handsbreadth away from his nose and he flicks his sharingan back on to see better in the darkness only to realize that the thing above him is a shattered branch and that the rest of a massive tree is balanced precariously above him, ready to crush his ribs from where it had been forcibly impaled halfway through the dome of his doton shield.

Thank you, Uncle Kenrou, Izuna thinks to himself, holding perfectly still as he cautiously flips through hand signs, for having shoved doton jutsu down everyone's throat.

.

.

As a note for the future, Mito thinks grimly, spitting out something vile and unidentified and feeling like she'll never be clean again, an explosion is effective but undesirable when you're under ground level and surrounded by corpses.

She slowly crawls to the side of the now-sloping pit, feeling too dizzy and nauseous from the poison her seals are still purging to risk climbing to her feet. There's a series of... squishing sounds every time she shifts her weight and she drags her lips into a forced smile to suppress her gag reflex as her knee sinks into something that's partly liquefied.

She's burning these clothes when she's out of here. Burning them and creating a design for a sanitation seal even if it strips off the upper layers of her skin like the worst exfoliant she's ever owned. She will walk home nude and barefoot. If anyone sees her she'll simply assault them for their clothing.

She's also never drinking oolong tea ever again. A pity that.

Mito digs her fingers into the crumbling earth walls, ignoring the additional dirt that showers down on her arms, and heaves herself up to collapse on the ground. The two men responsible for the worst day she's had in at least four years are several meters away and unmoving, bodies tossed over several felled trees in the newly widened clearing. They're undoubtedly dead or dying from the concussive force and Mito dismisses them as a problem. It's true that she will need to ascertain who was behind their actions and whether she was a target or an incidental victim, but that can come later.

Much later.

Preferably after a thorough scrubbing.

And an expensive bottle of plum wine.

She rolls onto her back, kicking off her shoe into the grave pit with tightened lips when something starts to ooze down the arch of her foot. She's sore all over and she reeks besides and she refuses to look too closely at herself until she either finds a river or gives up and drenches herself in the sea she can smell on the breeze. She reaches up and briskly yanks out the remaining pins from the left side of her hair, disgust lingering when she has to peel a... well, peel something organic and blood-covered off of her bun before the hair can come loose.

There's the subtle rumble of earth moving in the distance and Mito lunges to her feet, no matter how unsteadily.

"You have excellent senses," someone comments. She looks to the side with narrowed eyes, shoving her hair away from her face as it tumbles over her shoulder, and sees a young man—a handful of years younger than her perhaps? Sixteen at the absolute most—step over the gray leaves of a broken cedar tree. He has a hand on the sword at his side, is covered with as fine a shower of soil as herself, and is currently plucking twigs out of his long black hair.

"Mind you," he says brightly, with an undertone that means he's having as enjoyable a day as she is and is probably feeling just as violently inclined, "that doesn't mean I appreciate being nearly blown up."

"What an unusual opinion," Mito responds scathingly, altering her grip on her hair pins as she finally meets his eyes.

The boy stops dead, eyes widening sharply before they proceed to flash rapidly between their current pattern and solid black.

Mito's eyes water as they start itching intensely but she doesn't look away from the other shinobi as colors shift around her. Grey leaves morph into an unknown vibrant color, dark trunks lose the faint pink tinge she'd always known, and even the boy's vivid pink eyes bleed into a richer red.

... This is unexpected.

"Well," the boy says, sounding two pitches higher, wide eyes locked on the wavy fall of her freed hair. He looks a bit dazed as he gives her a smile that's abruptly more genuine. "I did not imagi—" his voice cracks in the middle of the word and Mito raises an eyebrow as he coughs, a dusting of pink surfacing on his cheeks. "This was not quite how and where I thought I'd find you."

"How old are you?" Mito questions pointedly, taking a closer look at the curve of his face and feeling a bit better, in the face of his embarrassment, about the fact that this is quite possibly the most disgusting first impression she could have made.

"How old are you?" he counters evasively with a charming smile that has probably fooled a lot of people who aren't her.

"Nineteen," she answers, a little amused to see a subtle twitch in his cheek right next to the crumbled remains of a no-longer pink yarrow flower that's still tangled in his hair.

"A fine age for such a lovely woman," he compliments, both failing to answer the question himself and apparently ignoring the guts, blood, and unmentionables sticking to her in various locations. She's tempted to humor him for that consideration alone but—

"And you are...?" she prompts.

"Izuna," he introduces, nodding politely. "And what brings such a skilled kunoichi to this backwoods pit of iniquity and corpses?" he asks, briefly glancing at the dozens of cracked and collapsed trees with a newly appreciative smile before pausing for a moment, lips tilting up with a sly glint in his eyes. "Aside from poison. And a cart."

"You frustrate your family at times, don't you Uchiha Izuna?" she asks dryly, finally placing why the pattern of light colored eyes with dark rings and spots are familiar. Regular correspondence with their Senju cousins is not part of her duties, but she and many of her cousins had begun to review knowledge about that area of Hi no Kuni three months ago after the Senju clan head had broached the topic of renewing relations with a possible marriage to his son. Mito hadn't been certain at the time that she was even interested in leaving her clan for one so distant, but alliances are worth upholding and perhaps Senju Hashirama would impress her if one of the others didn't fancy him.

( She's even less certain she'll be marrying a Senju now, but ironically the knowledge of that region might still prove useful. )

Izuna's right forearm tenses, wariness flashing over his face at his clan name before, with a rueful smile, his sharingan fades to black. "I assure you, that has never been mentioned to me," he lies cheerfully. "And your name would be?"

"Uzumaki Mito." Something slides down the back of her head, dripping a slimy chunk down the back of her collar, and Mito grits her teeth and makes the mistake of breathing through her nose.

"Do you know of any nearby rivers?" she asks abruptly, interrupting the younger boy's thoughtful perusal of her.

"...Yes?"

"Good. You may come and burn these garments when I'm done bathing." She gestures with her hair pins, intending Izuna to proceed her, and he starts walking, never moving closer than several body lengths despite a clear curiosity about her. It's a little endearing actually that he thinks that's far enough for a head start if she triggers another explosion.

Then again, wasn't the sharingan supposed to capable of perception outside the norm? Hm...

"You're not going to try washing them?" he teases. "Can Uzumaki manifest clothes from thin air then?

She tilts her chin up imperiously. "I had intended to simply take your shirt since it's long enough for minimal decency."

There's a sharp crack as Izuna's previously silent stride manages to land on a large stick. "I would be happy to provide," he chirps, voice definitely higher this time as he stares at her nose and doesn't quite meet her eyes.

... Well, Mito might break him if he's as nice as he's trying to appear, or they might kill each other outright if they end up at an impasse and Izuna's as fierce as what she thought she saw lurking under the surface during his arrival, but at the very least he looks pretty.

That's rather nice.

(AO3 link - contains all author notes)

[thewalkingdeadfanfictions]

Noting or Something Chapter 2 - The Journey with the Eldest Dixon

Day One

“I never did ask what happened.” I muse motioning to his stump that was now fashioned into a weaponized prosthetic after coming across a medical supply warehouse as we searched for a decent car causing Merle to say “Got carried away, got cuffed to a roof, got left, and cut it off to get off the roof.” “Ya do all this high off yer ass?” I ask causing him to give me a look that answered the question so I explain “Don’t take it personal. I worked at a bar in a not so nice part of the city and could spot an addict, no matter what stage, a mile away. And I’m saying this now because yer gonna get hit with the worst of the withdrawals soon unless ya don’t stay sober.” “Naw, I gotta stop before the shit kills me. Might as well do it now.” He states so I hum before I spot something shiny in a decomposing body’s hand. I stop and pick it up saying “Hey.” He stops and looks at me so I shake the keys as I smirk asking “Wanna go on a treasure hunt?” He grins and chuckles out “Peepers ya might have just have the best luck.” “No, ya do. Cuz ya got me on yer side.” I say winking and walking past him.

 When we find the white Volkswagen Beetle the keys were to I chuckle out “Looks like we found Herbie.” Noting how someone decided to vandalize the car with the number fifty-three in spray paint. “Just unlock it.” Merle growls annoyed so I chuckle as I do so. I check inside it, never know if a deadhead is chilling inside, before reaching in and popping the trunk. Walking around to the back with Merle he opens it up and reveals a small box with food and water and an empty gas can. That’s when my watch beeps signaling that the sun was about to set. I shut it off as Merle asks “What was that?” “Alarm when the sun’s about to set.” I tell him showing him the watch causing him to ask “Why?” “Sometimes the deadheads get more active at night.” I explain causing him to grunt out a “Huh.” As he grabs a bit of food and water from the trunk before shutting it.

           “What do you think we should do?” I ask going to the driver side as he goes to the passenger side causing him to look at me a minute before saying “Its yer call Peepers.” “We should probably rest while we can since there isn’t many around these parts of the city anymore. We’ll get out of here in the morning.” I tell him so he nods as he gets in the car. Sighing I take my bag off and put it in the back before getting in myself. “Here. I haven’t seen ya eat yet.” He mutters dropping one of the bottles of water and a couple granola bars in my lap. “Don’t worry Dixon I won’t keel over anytime soon.” I tell him causing him to scoff and put the seat back, his feet on the dash, and close his eyes. I chuckle then and eat and drink before locking the doors, putting the key under the visor, lean my seat back a little, and close my eyes listening to Merle’s light breathing and quiet world outside.

Day Two

“Are ya sure he’s still here?” I ask as I drive up the dirt path towards a camp at a quarry, according to the Merle. “No, but I know he’s alive. Ain’t no one can kill a Dixon but a Dixon.” He answers holding up his weaponized stump so I say “Maybe that’s cuz they keep doin’ stupid shit.” This causes him to grumble before we notice faint smoke raising into the sky. “Dixon…” I trail off causing him to say “I see it, Peepers.” I park the car once we get to a clearing with nothing but a pile of still burning bodies and a stripped out red sports car. Getting out I wonder aloud “It looks like they got attacked by deadheads. But the question is where did they go?” looking around at the black and red dried blood on the ground.

“Morgan. Going to CDC. This area not safe. Rick.” Merle growls from in front of the side of the sports car so I go over asking “You know this Morgan?” “No must be Officer Friendly’s friend.” He scoffs walking away so I sigh and follow him back to the car. “My brother didn’t leave anything behind ‘an took my damn bike too.” He growls slamming his flesh hand on the trunk so I place my hand on his arm asking “Would he go with them though?” “Who knows?” He scoffs shrugging me off so I roll my eyes and say “Well if he did they won’t find much. The CDC is sure to be a pile of rubble any day now if it isn’t one now.” “What’re ya talkin’ ‘bout Peepers?” He asks giving me a glare so I explain “The CDC is home to some of the most dangerous diseases, half of which we, the public, don’t even know about, thus in the result of a fallout, government takeover, power failure, or terrorist attack HIT’s, or high-impulse thermobaric fuel-air explosives which consist of a two-stage aerosol ignition that produces a blast wave of significantly greater power and duration than any other known explosive except nuclear, are deployed to prevent them from getting out. It basically sets the air on fire and blows up the building. Once the generators runs or ran out of fuel or people to fill it, boom. Bye, bye building and anything inside within seconds.”

This causes him to stare at me for probably a good three minutes and I could almost see his brain overheating before he gives up and asks “Whatever. What direction is the CDC and yer Old Man’s place?” “My Old Man’s place?” I ask with my eyebrows raised causing him to state “Answer the question Peepers.” “Okay…” I say and point in the general direction that they were in adding “The CDC is in that direction if it hasn’t been blown to smithereens and my Old Man’s farm is in that direction.” “So we’ll go that way, better to keep going than go back.” He says so I ask “Ya sure? My family’s not holding their breath for my return. I’m sure they think I’m dead.”

He glares at me then saying “Yet ya were gonna head their on yer own.” “Look, I’m not saying we shouldn’t go there. I’m saying that I don’t mind if we look for yer brother first.” I tell him causing him to huff and say “Ya said so yerself, they won’t find much so who knows where they went after. It’d be better for us to go there instead of where Daryl might have gone.” As he walks up to the driver’s side. “I guess that’s true. Here.” I tell him before tossing him the keys and walking up to the passenger’s side. Sure, it might be a bad idea for him to be driving with his withdrawals looming but he was angry and needed something to get his mind off of the fact that he was forgotten, again, so fuck it. With that he gives me a nod and we both get in and we’re quickly on our way.

Day Three

           “Could ya at least act like yer not doing it on purpose?!” I shout after Merle purposely swerved to hit another deadhead with the car but he just grunts at me in response. I sigh and shake my head but don’t take it further. He needed to vent, and if that involved roadkill deadheads, so be it, especially with anxiety, depression, agitation/irritability, restlessness, delirium, paranoia, mental confusion, disorientation, and racing thoughts all being symptoms of withdrawals. These accompanied by the fact that he was abandoned by the group he had been with twice… I couldn’t begin to imagine the thoughts swimming around in his head.

Day Four

           Not even a mile from where we’d stopped for the night black smoke started billowing from under the hood, the car sputtered, and quickly died. Merle angrily grunts as he gets out of the car before slamming the door shut and stalking to the front of the car. I get out and get hit with the smell of burnt flesh and hair along with the smell of the dead and now I have a pretty good idea of what the problem was. He opens the hood then, which releases a cloud of black smoke and makes the smell stronger. I wave the smoke out of my face as I join him.

“Ya killed Herbie.” I mutter staring at the blood, guts, etc. now clogging the engine, to which he just grunts angrily again. He slams the hood shut so I go and collect my bag before he grunts out a “Come on.” And stalks off into the woods. Groaning I quickly follow him as there’s the faint sound of vehicles approaching from the way we came. “It’s about a two day walk to the farm from here.” I tell him after I catch up to him to which he growls “Then let’s get going.” So I just sigh and follow him, knowing that he was probably starting to be increasingly irritable both from already being angry from being left behind and from the symptoms of his withdrawals. The last thing I needed was for him to direct that anger at me now that he could no longer vent by hitting deadheads with a car.

Day Five

It was unnerving how noisy the forest was from the sound of deadheads even after the sun came up. It wasn’t until one fell out of the bushes from in front of us that I stopped. “It’s just one.” Merle growls stopping himself and looking back at me as two more stumbled out from behind it so I shake my head saying “No it’s not.” He looks back just as more stumble out and another that wasn’t in the group in front of us roars. A small group was easy enough to evade and or re-kill, especially with two people, but this wasn’t a small group. It seemed that for each one, three more emerged from the trees, meaning that we had stumbled upon a horde. Unfortunately, Merle wasn’t thinking right and just points his bayonet at them. Growling out a “Damnit Dixon! Come on!” then, I grab his flesh hand and start running in the opposite direction, dragging him behind me.

And it wasn’t until we’re back on the road that I stop running. “What was that Peepers?! We could have taken them!” Merle shouts at me as I turn and look down the road for any indication that the deadheads were still following us. “That was a fucking horde, ya Moron! They would have torn us to shreds!” I shout, whirling around to face him. And as I expected, I was then greeted by a growled “What did ya just say?!” “Ya heard me Dixon.” I growl standing my ground as I glare up at him causing him to return the glare and get in my face as he growls “Don’t test me Girl.” “Do ya want to die? ‘Cuz if ya continue this tirade against the world yer gonna.” I tell him causing a low growl to come from the back of his throat but I continue anyway “Just so ya know, the next time ya go to do something stupid like what ya did back there, I’ll let ya. I’m not gonna die because of ya.”

“Should’ve known that’s what ya’d say.” He scoffs then causing an involuntary laugh to escape my throat before I shake my head saying “Ya don’t know me Dixon.” “I know enough. Yer just like every other chick out there. Think yer better than everyone else.” He retorts so I scoff and nod saying “Yeah. And yer just like every other guy out there. Ya pretend to care until it’s no longer beneficial to ya.” He steps back, like I slapped him, before his face is one of rage as he growls “If that’s how ya felt, why’d ya come with me?!” “I don’t fucking know! For whatever reason I thought I could trust ya!” I exclaim before turning it back on him with a “Why’d ya want me to come with ya anyway? I remember leaving ya and ya following me. Not the other way around.” With that another growl comes from him as his flesh hand tightens into a white knuckled fist.

I was pushing my luck right now but I wouldn’t back down. Hell, I couldn’t back down, if I did, I would be like every other woman in his life. I would just be the thing my biological parents wrote me off as and I’ve worked too hard to prove them wrong. And the tension right now was so thick I’m sure that even the deadheads could feel it. After a good ten minute stare down he backed down with a huff before he drags his flesh hand over his face. So I smirk, turn on my heel, and say “Come on Dixon.” As I walk back into the woods.

Day Six

           “I’m sorry about yesterday.” Merle suddenly says causing me to stop, turn to look at him, and tell him “Don’t worry about it. I’m a big girl.” “That ya are.” He replies looking me up and down so I roll my eyes and state “Not a chance Dixon.” That was when the sound of a gunshot rang through the forest causing both of us to drop to the ground in a crouch. For once I was annoyed that the trees bounced noise around, making it impossible to tell the direction it came from, if there was more than one it’d be possible but with just one it bounces around too much. We didn’t have the weapons to defend ourselves versus a gun, with just a knife/bayonet, our wits, and our hand-to-hand, it’d latterly be bringing a knife to a gun fight.

           “What do we do?” I whisper harshly to Merle who just says “We need better weapons.” “No shit!” I growl so he huffs before saying “We should go somewhere where we could get them.” “And where would that be genius? It’s a small town and I doubt anyone left weapons behind. Even if they did it wouldn’t be that beneficial.” I state annoyed causing him to huff again before saying “The highway.” “The highway?” I ask unsure if I heard him right so when he just nods I growl “Oh come on.” Before I have a light bulb go off as I remember the housing development causing me to breathe out “That’s it.” Merle gives me a pointed look then probably wondering if I’d finally lost it so I smirk and say “They built a housing development maybe ten years ago. If we’re going to find anything useful in the words of weapons, it’d be there. Probably even find another car.”

Day Seven

As expected it seemed that most of the residents bugged out the second they could, since there was little destruction and little trash. It also meant that we could take our time searching the buildings. But going building to building was easier said than done. Most of the residents took the time to lock their door, so did I, but still. I did it so I would have a semi-secure place to go back to if needed while these people did it to protect what they left behind. And each time we came upon a locked door I had to stop Merle from physically breaking in via the door or one of the windows.

“Stop that!” I hiss having done just that for what felt like the hundredth time causing him to huff out a “Why?” “”Cuz! I’d like the fact that there aren’t any deadheads around to stay true.” I growl gesturing around at the emptiness of the neighborhood causing him to huff again but this time he follows me to the back without another word. And like all the others the back door was unlocked. However, when we walked in, the inside was significantly different than the others. Inside everything was in place and nothing seemed to be missing or taken.

Cautiously we move to the hall to check the rooms. Opening one of the doors we discover a blood spattered child’s room. In the bed laid said child, with a single gunshot wound to the head. I frown as we slowly shut the door leaving them alone before going to what must be the parent’s room and opening the door. There the walls were also blood spattered. The mother and father were both dead in the bed, and like the child had a single gunshot wound to the head, with a pistol in the father’s hand and a bloodied note on the side table. “Murder suicide?” I wonder aloud as Merle picks up the note so he nods as he reads it off “Dear stranger, I did this out of love. Better for them to die in their sleep then to die due to those things. May God forgive me.”

Day Eight

           “Why can’t anything be easy?” I groan when our search for weapons, so far, only yields a few pistols, maybe three handfuls of ammo, and more hand-to-hand weapons as we sat in the middle house of the abandoned houses of the neighborhood causing Merle to chuckle out “It’s not that bad Peepers. We’re only half-way done.” Now that he was done being pissed off at the world it was now like I was traveling with an overgrown and annoying child. Though I guess overgrown and annoying child was better than pissed at everything redneck. Not that that helped me not get annoyed with him, about almost everything he says or does to purposely annoy me. Which he did more often than not now, so much so that I was seriously questioning my sanity by sticking around instead of just leaving him.

Day Nine

           “Ya hear that?” I ask having heard the faint sound of a car approaching while looking over at Merle. He nods so I walk over to the window and watch as a blue car drives into the circle. “Merle.” I hiss when it stops and motion for him to come over as I wait for whoever to come out of it. “Bastards.” He instantly growls when a bald man and a blonde woman steps out of it causing me to look at him and ask “Ya know them?” “Yeah.” He scoffs turning away from the window before saying “They’re part of my old group.” “Why don’t we ask them for information about yer brother?” I offer but he just shakes his head saying “Naw. They’d just lie or might just kill us.” “Exactly how much of an ass where ya to yer group?” I ask then causing him to huff and mutter “What do ya think?” So I sigh out a “Come on. Let’s get out of here before they attract deadheads.”

Day Ten

           “I swear yer a child.” I mutter after Merle suggest checking out the bar that wasn’t obviously looted. “It’s the only place we haven’t checked yet.” He defends causing me to sigh out a “Fine.” Before glaring at him and stating “It’ll start getting dark soon but we’re not sticking around there.” Which causes him to mutter “Yeah, yeah.” So I sigh again and run a hand through my hair, attempting to untangle it, as I trail behind him. The small town was relatively untouched by the destruction that plagued the city but there was a clear sign of the deadhead’s presence. Half of the windows were broken or boarded and there was still evidence of blood stains on the pavement.

           And like I theorized there wasn’t any useable weapons to be found here but it was worth a shot. With the fact that we saw two people from Merle’s old group and heard the gunshot the other day, better have as many options as possible. And I had a feeling his paranoia about the two from his group wasn’t entirely unjustified, as from what I saw from the window the guy was a loose cannon and starting to blur the lines between right and wrong while the girl was full of herself and was bound to get someone killed, if she hadn’t already. Though this time spent looking took away from me getting home it wasn’t like they were anxiously waiting for my return, like I told him back at the quarry. My guess is that they thought I was dead after the first month that I didn’t get there.

           However, what I didn’t expect happened when Merle opened the door to the bar and we stepped inside. As soon as our foot hit the floor inside gunshots went off causing both of us to crouch to the ground and draw our respective pistols. “Holly shit…its Merle.” A male breathes out from in front of us before the door slams shut behind us causing Merle to bolt up growling “Chinaman.” I grab his arm before he could raise his pistol when I just barely hear Hershel breathe out “Nai.” There sitting at the bar was Hershel Greene, my adoptive father, white as a ghost. “So ya really thought I was dead. Huh, Old Man.” I say running a hand through my hair, again, and putting my pistol away, causing him to all but scream at me “What were we supposed to think?!” “Maybe have a little hope!” I snap before I get pulled behind Merle as he growls “Officer Friendly.”

           But before anything else could happen the distinct sound of a car approaching is heard causing who must be said Officer Friendly to harshly whisper “Car. Car. Get down.” We all drop in a crouch and move to the front with the others as the car stops, people get out, and a man’s voice asks “Dave? Tony?” “He said over here?” Another asks causing another to say “Yeah. I’m telling you man, I heard a shot.” “I saw roamers two streets over. Might be more around here.” the second one says as the first says “It’s hot. We gotta get out of here.” “Dave! Tony!” the third calls causing the first to say “Shut up, you idiot! You wanna attract ‘em? Just stick close. We’re gonna find ‘em.” as we hear them walk closer. “Dude, he said to stay close.” The second says then as we hear them walk away. This was not gonna go well, I just knew it.

           Officer Friendly stood and checked out the window carefully before crouch walking over to all of us. “Why won’t they leave?” The Asian whispers causing me to roll my eyes as Hershel whispers “Would you?” “We can’t sit here any longer. Let’s head out the back and make a run to the car.” Officer Friendly whispers before pausing and adding “That includes you two.” I place a hand on Merle’s arm and give him a ‘You can settle your issue later.’ Look before nodding at Officer Friendly. We all get up to go when we have to quickly get back down again hearing gunshots. “What happened?” the first man asks causing the third to say “Roamers, I nailed ‘em.” “They disappeared, but their car’s still there.” The second informs so the first says “I cleared those buildings. You guys get this one?” “No.” “Me neither.” The second and third state causing the first to say “We’re looking for Dave and Tony and no one checks the damn bar?”

           We then hear footsteps approach and Officer Friendly readies his gun as I redraw mine. However when the door opened the Asian quickly scooted over and blocked the door, and thus alerting them of our presence. “What?” the first asks causing the second to say “Someone pushed that shut. There’s someone in there.” Before calling “Yo, is someone in there? Yo, if someone’s in there, we don’t want no trouble. We’re just looking for our friends.” “What do we do?” the first asks then so the third offers “Bum rush the door?” “No, we don’t know how many are there. Just relax.” The second says before calling “We don’t want any trouble. We’re just looking for our friends. If something happened, tell us. This place is crawling with corpses. If you can help us not get killed, I’d appreciate it.” “Dude, you’re bugging. I’m telling you nobody’s in there.” The third says so the second says “Someone grab the door. If they’re in there, they might know where Dave and Tony are.”

           They start walking away but Officer Friendly announces “They drew on us!” causing me to give Merle a ‘Is he serious?’ look. Merle nods giving me a ‘He’s serious.’ Look as they come back and the second asks “Dave and Tony in there? They alive?” Officer Friendly looks conflicted but tells the truth and says “No.” “They killed Dave and Tony.” The second says then so the first says “Come on, man, let’s go.” But the second says “No, I’m not leaving, I’m not telling Jane. I’m not gonna go back and tell them that Dave and Tony got shot by some assholes in a bar.” “Your friends drew on us! They gave us no choice! I’m sure we’ve all lost enough people, done things we wish we didn’t have to, but it’s like that now. You know that! So let’s just chalk this up to what it was, wrong place, wrong-“Officer Friendly announces only to get cut off by gunshots blowing out the window above the Asian’s head.

           Officer Friendly gets up and fires back ordering us “Get out of here! Go!”  So I grab Merle’s hand and pull him with me as I follow the Asian and Hershel to the back of the bar, since I knew if I didn’t he probably would’ve just shot Officer Friendly himself. Hell, at this point I might do it because of his damned stupidity. And we all duck for cover as they fire back, breaking some of the bottles on the tables. When there was a lull in the shooting Officer Friendly empties his casings onto the floor and refills his gun as he calls “Hey! We all know this is not gonna end well! There’s nothing in it for any of us! You guys just-just back off, no one else gets hurt!” That’s when there’s a sound of garbage cans rattling from behind the bar. “Don’t do anything stupid.” I whisper to Merle before I get up and follow the Asian to check it out as Merle quietly grumbles out a “I know, Peepers. I know.”

And it’s a good thing I did because I have to stop him from doing the stupid thing and opening the door with his hand. Looking at me shocked I motion to the shotgun he had before holding my pistol ready. He gets the hint, has it ready, and uses it to open the door. Walking down the stairs, side by side, we both internally cringe and freeze when one of the stairs creaks beneath our feet. When no obvious sound happens we continue and make it to the middle of the back room before a bottle clatters outside. “Shit!” a man harshly whispers causing us to both look at the back door as he cocks his shotgun, causing me to sigh realizing that it wasn’t cocked this whole time. We watch and raise our guns as the doorknob slowly turns, both of us probably hoping that it was locked. But that wasn’t the case as the lock clicked causing us both to shoot a single shot that shattered the widow.

“Glenn!” “Nai!” the others call then so we both announce “We’re all right.” Before we go to opposite sides of the door and look from our spots out the broken window as we both re-cock our guns. A few minutes go by and we hear footsteps from behind causing us both to spin ready, only for it to be Hershel. I sigh and lower my gun as he pushes the shotgun away causing the Asian, or I guess Glenn, to apologize “Sorry. Sorry.” “Rick wants you two to try for the car.” Hershel says causing Glenn to ask “Try?” “You’ll try and succeed. I’ll cover you.” Hershel says and I sigh again as Glenn nods and sarcastically says “That’s a great plan.” “It’s as good a plan as any. Besides yer not doing it alone.” I say looking at Glenn before back at Hershel and adding “Dixon?” “Covering Rick.” Hershel informs causing Glenn to breathe out “You’re kidding me.” “We’re all trying to get out of this alive. Whatever issue Dixon has with Officer Friendly isn’t priority.” I scoff before going over and pushing the door open.

When it wasn’t shot at I ask “Ya coming or what?” before slipping out the door. I’m soon joined by Glenn and after a few more steps we duck as gunshots ring out. Bullets hit the brick wall as we ran towards cover, but I stumble when one hits me in the leg. Glenn pulls me behind the dumpster with him as a man starts groaning. “Damn it.” I hiss when I touch the wound and realize the shot didn’t go through as Glenn is low-key freaking out. “Are you hit?” I hear Officer Friendly, or I guess Rick, ask as he joins us behind the dumpster causing Glenn to answer “Not me, she is.” They both look at me so I growl “I’m fine it’s just a graze. Get to the damn car so we can get out of here.” Neither of them believe me as they look down at my leg but they get up to go anyway only to have to get back quickly as gunshots hit the side of the dumpster.

Rick glances out from behind the dumpster as there’s the sound of tires squealing before a man yells “Let’s get out of here! Roamers all over the place! Hurry up! We gotta get out of here!” “What about Sean?!” another yells as I shrug off my backpack causing the first to yell back “They shot him. We gotta go. Roamers are everywhere.” “We’re leaving?” another asks causing the previous one to yell “Jump!” “Hurry up, jump already.” They yell as I get my already ripped shirt out of my bag, thankful that I didn’t toss it, and use my knife to cut strips to bind my leg, for the time being, before there’s the sound of someone screaming in pain. “Dude didn’t make it.” Glenn whispers as the guy starts yelling “Help me!”

But his buddie just yells back “I’ve gotta go. I’m sorry!” before driving off as the guy yells “No, no, don’t leave! Help me! No! No! Help! Help!” “Get Hershel and Merle.” Rick tells Glenn before he runs off towards the yelling so Glenn stands and looks back before yelling “Hershel! Merle!” I pull myself up then, having finished my temporary binding and pulled my bag back on, in time to see deadheads swarm a guy on the ground, who was unfortunate enough to still be alive as he started screaming. Hershel shoots one of the deadheads as Merle makes his way over so Glenn yells again “Hershel!” “Ya alright Peepers?” Merle asks when his eyes land on my leg, during his look over, as Hershel finally stops staring and comes over so I just say “We can worry about it later. Let’s just get out of here.”

The two others nod and start moving but Merle isn’t happy about my answer as he growls and steps closer to me. “I’m fine.” I repeat only for him to growl “Yer not.” Before he picks me up, bridle style. “Damn it Dixon. I’m fine.” I growl only for him to sarcastically say “Yeah, sure.” As he carries me towards the other two before they run across the street with Hershel yelling “Rick!” We watch as they argue about the fate of the guy, who was just shooting at us and who had managed to impale himself on the fence. They ultimately agree to save him but looking to the side, there was deadheads everywhere. “These idiots.” I mutter as I decide to commence target practice and drop a few deadheads along with Glenn and Rick. Within seconds it was obvious there wasn’t any more time so Rick makes the ultimate decision and forces the guys leg back the way it came causing him to emit a scream that probably alerted every deadhead not already coming.