#( and when said kid learned to be difficult cause that's how he survived she went 'aight this child is obviously too much for me'

[cruelprincae]

one of the many, many reasons why cardan deserves better and why we're hating on asha 24/7. rereading i never noticed that asha left him while he was a baby. i thought he was a toddler when that happened. THAT MAKES IT EVEN WORSE SMH.

[strangersteddierthings]

Daily Ficlet 7

I’m challenging myself to write a little ficlet every day, using the prompts from this list. Today’s prompt is bonfire.

-

There are a lot of things that El has not got to experience. Some things are lost to her forever, little childhood moments that are not replicate-able simply because of the passage of time. She tries to not let that get her down. Especially in the face of this new fact Lucas has said.

"Think of all the things you'll get to do now and remember!" Lucas had said with excitement. "Like, I don't remember what it was like to taste a s'more for the first time, 'cause I was so little when I had one. But you'll get to remember!"

"Yeah!" Will chimed in, "and think of all the firsts you can have with friends now. Camping -real camping, not just hiding in the woods and trying to survive- or getting to watch a movie we all grew up with or listen to a popular song for the first time."

"I would like to go camping," El said quietly, and instantly the plans were being made.

She finds herself here, a little over two months later, in woods she doesn't know, learning how to pitch a tent with Dustin and Steve. It took a month of planning because scheduling it was difficult with this many people, as well as getting parent permission from the Sinclairs and Wheelers, who were still reluctant to let their kids out of sight for too long.

Her parents (a fact she's overjoyed with; her dad married Joyce and now she has a mom) are here, of course, which helped with convincing the other parents. And there's a decent amount of adult besides them. Her dad's friends, Murray and Wayne and Dmitri (who brought his wife and son) and Steve and Eddie are also here. Jonathan is also, technically, an adult now but El's not counting him because he's only been 18 for a few months.

Mike, Will, and Lucas went off with Eddie to gather firewood. Both for their regular campfire, but also for the bonfire they want to have their last night here. She's excited to learn the difference between the two. From what everyone has said, it's mainly just the size of the fire involved, but still. It will be fun to experience that difference for herself.

Max is supervising their tent setup, which apparently means she just gets to lounge in a chair and shout 'great job' occasionally. El tells her she's a great supervisor and Max beams at her and says she knows.

It's only the first hour of camping and El loves it. She thinks camping might become one of her favorite things.

[zoetheneko]

Zoe's Lore: Part 4

After breakfast, Zoe was escorded to an interrogation room to speak about her past situations to General Blade and Commander Cage.

Once she sat down, Blade told her to proceed with her story. And so she did.

Zoe was wondering a forest looking for food until she was by an of angry animal, which she couldn't remember how it looked like. She attacked back with her fire powers and killed the beast on the spot, leaving few damages to the forest.

Feeling that the woods weren't safe anymore, Zoe stormed out of them and found herself wandering a desert for two days, she later found shelter in the canyon and scared off everyone that passed by and tried to harm her. It lasted for a week before Rambo and Stryker got to her.

When Zoe was done with her story, Sonya asked for her to be escorded to a cell, since she looked like she mostly recovered from her injuries.

She assigned Rambo to supervise Zoe for when she wants to go out of her room. He thought of this to be weird of her to ask this, but he agreed to do it anyway.

_____________________

Zoe asked to be out her room with Rambo, after lunch.

They had a walk around the hallways of the SF's prison. Then when they sat down for a moment, Zoe suddenly asked John as to what was he doing in this army base. He hesitated a moment, but gave in and said that he wasn't really in the army anymore, that just joins the crew to go on more dire missions when they need his expertise. Zoe asked more about it, John answered most of it.

Zoe then added that it would be nice if she could hang out more with him and learn a thing or two about survival; she did what almost looked like begging and swore tjat she would behave.

After time was out and Zoe went back to her cell, John thought about what she said earlier for a while. It was difficult for him to make that decision since he was never asked to mentor somebody before; he had to put some more thoughts into it.

__________________

The day after, he met Sonya again and spoke about what Zoe said during her hour off the cell yesterday and how he was willing to bail her out. Sonya was obviously hesitating but couldn't help but wonder if John was able to actually take an initiate in and train them on his own.

Sonya accepted the request, thinking in hope that it would redeem that kid for what damage she caused on her troops.

Few moments later, Zoe was bailed out and moved into a private dorm room. She did not expect for the boss to listen. But it didn't matter, she was happy to be out of that dawn cell.

To be continued...

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@theelderhazelnut @geeky-trash01 @scentedcandleibex @darialovesstuff @elderglocks @mitsuko-saito @bloody-arty-myths @zombieoffender @onehornedbeast

[3mutantsinatrenchcoat]

An earthquake rumbles part 5

Previously

Dude, we are already on part five??? Das crazy-

Uhh cw? Probably for swearing, panic, mentions of children being sick and very bad parenting but he's doing his best

The man huffs as he pushes away rubble from the stairwell, finally reaching the streets from the subway. "Okay bud..stay with me" he looks back at the turtle child, whose overheated body let's out weakened huffs, the breaths visible in the colder air.

"I know..I know.." he sighs and starts walking "wer gonna find a pharmacy..we have ta find somethin.." he looks around as he grips the metal pipe tighter. He runs down the street, reaching his free hand behind himself to make sure the little turtle was stable. "Hang in there.."

He looks around for any flashes of purple or any people. He didn't want to have to deal with either. Now he would have said a few days ago he wouldn't have minded seeing other humans so long as they kept their distance but hell, he had a turtle child. And one thing he knew from growing up in the south is that different is deadly.

Like one of them bright colored bugs that you learn about in school, if you stand out you are a target. And boy he did feel like he stood out. Not only that other people seem to be selfish, he regrets how he almost was selfish when he met the turtle child.

He wished he was kind enough to have picked him up as soon as he saw him, but he walked away. He doesn't know why he went back but he did. And he doesn't regret it.

He slows to a walk up the the pharmacy doors, one of the glass doors shattered and littering inches of glass on the floor. He gently pushes on the door but all it caused was more pieces of glass to fall. "Sound risk..okay, okay another survival rule kid, no sound." He turns and walks around the building finding a busted window. ".. alright alright, we are getting some where." He uses his gloves to wipe off any excess chunks of glass before taking off his bag, careful to make sure the kid didn't fall.

"we should really get you some clothes buddy, new ones." He tosses the bag into the window and holds the child to his chest as he climbs in. He stumbles slightly before he gets his second leg in and stands up, looking around. "Good..it's...it's slightly ransacked but we might have some supplies." He grabs his bag by the strap and starts walking around, finding the kid section. He sets the young turtle down and looks over the section. It was ransacked. "No...no..no no.." he starts pulling at the empty shelves.

He pulls tin shelves and throws them to the ground. "No! No! No! SHIT!" he hits the shelves making a loud clang, the young turtle starts crying.

"I know! I know! It's scary! You're sick what do you want me to do!" He turns to look at the kid. "I didn't ask to take you in but I did! And now you are gonna die!" He drags his hands across his face and kicks one of the discarded shelves across the floor. "FUCK!"

He walks away from the crying child, leaning his head against a shelf. "...fuck..."

"well, that's not the Lars I knew" the female voice rang out softly.

The man, Lars looks at the woman, her long pretty blonde hair and her favorite sunflower printed dress on. "You aren't real..."

"I'm as real as you allow me to be Lars." She leans on the shelf beside him, her pretty blue eyes looking at him with sorrow. "I know it's difficult-"

"I miss you, my mayflower" he reaches out to touch the blonde curls that his fingers couldn't wrap around. "...I miss you.."

The woman reaches her hand out and cups his cheek, he swears he could still feel the warm of her palm. "Calm yourself, you are stressed. Keep your head on"

"I was never the one good with kids, it was always you, May.." he closes his eyes.

She smiles and pulls her hand away. "What is the issue? You know what to do, remember your nephew and the boating incident?"

He slowly stands up straight, looking at her. "He had an infection and a virus was running around so the pharmacy was out of kids medicine.."

"mhm. And what did you do then?" She smiles, watching as his eyes go wide.

He runs a few aisles over, looking up and down before grabbing a few boxes. "What if he takes to much?"

"if it feels like too much it's too little, he's a mutant" she speaks from behind him.

"right the incidents on the news-"

"mhm, right before you went up there" she smiles. "And-"

The man throws the boxes. "And liquid is better for exhaustion than the solids" he starts grabbing the other boxes.

He remembers how he felt driving his truck, speeding at 90 down the road, nearly crashing into the pharmacy as his brother stayed home with his nephew, all the hospitals filled with sick and no space for the teen. He remembers how the door clattered in protest when he swung it open and started grabbing off the shelf without a care to the world, he knew what was needed and 5 minutes later he was speeding out the parking lot, breaking probably several traffic violations.

That was years ago, and this situation was different. Here he was, grabbing medicine, no car, no wife, no family. Just him a mutant, infection all the same.

He hurries over to the turtle mutant, realizing he had left him crying. He sighs and slowly sat down beside him. "I'm sorry bud..I'm..." he sighs and starts unboxing one of the medicines. "This is so gonna suck but" he looks at the bottle and then at the measurement cap. "....fuck it we don't need this" he tosses it aside and pulls off the plastic, uncapping the bottle.

"alright survival tip again bud, drink this like you are drinking vodka. It's going to suck but it will make you feel better" he hesitates before mumbling to himself. "What kind of parenting advice is that-"

He scoops up the kid by the back of the head and makes him sit up slightly before putting the bottle to his mouth. "Okay we are going to guess and pray bud, guess and pray."

He pours, counting 5 seconds in his head. It was immediate how the mutant started squirming at the bittery cherry flavored syrup. "I know, I know it sucks, it's okay..it's okay.."

He pulls the bottle away. "Don't spit it out swallow it-" he quickly grabs the kid's chin, holding his face up slightly. "Don't spit..." the kid looks up at him, teary eyed and using what little energy he saved up from sleeping like he did to squirm.

He watches as the turtle scrunches up his face and swallows. "Thank you, see it wasn't that bad"

He looks around before scooping up the kid. "Let's find you some Gaterade. It tastes like shit but it works" he was never a big Gaterade fan. He preferred root beer but he doubts there would be any in this place. He makes a mental note to find a gas station eventually.

He walks around, holding the child to himself as he looks for the fridges, finding one up against the wall he swings it open. "Mmm..here" he pulls out a bottle of blue Gaterade. "It's sort of the best flavor in my opinion, don't ask me why"

He sits down against the wall beside it and shifts so the kid could sit, using his arm to rest his head slightly. "That feel better?"

He watches the turtle kid open his eyes slightly and look at him before looking at the bottle.

Lars smiles and opens the bottle, holding it up and letting the turtle drink. "Alright, so I'm thinking I'm stuck with you right?...so...what is your name?...or do we need a new one?"

The turtle gulps down the drink, halfway paying attention to him. Before he sets it down. "Mm..m-mikey"

Lars stares, genuinely not expecting him to have been able to talk. "Huh...okay...hi Mikey, I'm Lars.." he spoke softly watching as the turtle, well. Mikey use up what little energy he had left to set down the bottle and curl back up against him, closing his eyes.

"yeah, yeah...I know.." he caps the drink and pulls Mikey close to himself. "Don't use up all that energy, you can go back to sleep again.." he smiles as Mikey seemed to take him up on that offer.

He leans against the wall, still feeling like he was failing...but he did feel like he done something right. He smiles down at Mikey, maybe he wouldn't mess this up too bad.

His head leans against the wall and he closes his eyes letting all the stress die a little before he hears the sound of glass shattering slightly, his eyes opening quickly as he looks around.

Then he hears the voices.

"shit"

[BONUS DRAWING]

Lars and mikeeyyy

[tloujm]

Part XXVI: Giving Grief

Author’s Notes: This is the first chapter I’ve posted in months (literally since April). I don’t know if this is a full comeback. I have a few chapters in the drafts that need to be edited and formatted for posting but after that, I still plan on continuing the series bc my plan was always have a long fic. With no new content after part II of the game was released, my interest in the fandom waned but was always there. Now with HBO creating a show based off the game, as well as me being apart of the Pedro Pascal fandom, I think I will soon become more consistent in posting as new content gets released. I will say that at least half of what appeals to me for Joel is Troy Baker’s voice and while I love Pedro’s voice too, I know it won’t be the same. I still think Pedro will do the voice justice bc he can do a damn fine country accent as seen in the movie Prospect on Netflix. If you’re a fan of his and have Netflix, please go watch it!

Genre: Angst and Fluff

Summary: You and Joel reconcile and bond over Ellie and Sarah. 

Ship: Joel Miller x Fem!Reader

Joel waited for you to come home. He paced back and forth in the kitchen switching from holding the card and setting it down on the counter. He was eager to talk to you about this new revelation partly because he was nervous to have the other conversation with you. After a while of calming his nerves down, you still hadn’t come home. The sun had set an hour ago and Joel was ready to throw on his boots and go looking for you. 

Just as he laced them up, the front door opened. You walked in and immediately stopped because his body blocked you from walking in the house further. 

“Going somewhere?” You asked as you slid past him. He was a grown man and could do what he wanted, but the thought of him leaving to go do other things before the issue between you was resolved upset you. 

He reached back down to unlace his boots. “Not anymore. I was ‘bout to head out and find you.”

“Why?” You asked dryly.

“I’d been waiting on you to come home for a couple of hours. We gotta talk.”

“You’re right, we do. I was helping Wendy walk the kids home from the daycare; that’s what held me up. I’m here now, though.” You leaned against the back of the couch and crossed your arms. The stance you took reminded you of what Joel would do.

He walked into the kitchen and came back. “Kiddo made this for us.”

You took it in your hands. “When did she have time to make this?” He shrugged. Your fingers brushed across the drawing of the hat before finally opening it. “Oh my God.” She looked at you for a split second before looking back down at her signature. “Her name has been ‘Ellie’ the whole time.”

“I know.” He commented. 

“She never said anything. All of us have asked her.”

“Technically, she still hasn’t spoken her name, but I guess she wasn’t ready for that.”

“She wasn’t ready to let anybody in.” You said. He nodded in agreement.

“Until now.” He walked up to you and pointed to her name on the card. “She’s doing so good, this Ellie. I can only try to imagine the horrors that she’s seen out in the world before she came to Jackson, but whatever happened out there, it led her to us. I’m...It’s just nice to see her opening up to this place.”

You understood what he was trying to say. “Yeah, I’m proud of her too.” You walked past him and into the kitchen to hang the card on the refrigerator. Joel followed. This time, his arms were crossed.

“(Y/N), I meant it when I said I was sorry back there. I shouldn’t have said what I did.”

“If you didn’t mean it, you wouldn’t have said it.” You rebutted.

“I was upset with you because I expected you to react the same as me when Ellie climbed up that T-Rex, but I don’t want a carbon copy of myself. I love you and want to have a family with you because you are wise beyond your years, confident even if you don’t always think so, responsible even for things that aren’t your responsibility and most importantly, you’re level headedness. Where I have a tendency to lose my cool in certain situations, you are guided by this calm...patient sense of will that I envy.” He took a deep breath and slowly exhaled, giving you the opportunity to say something. Seeing that you were still soaking in his words, he continued. “You’ll be a great mother. I saw it in the gentle way you juggled all those kids at the daycare. I saw it in the way you took care of Ellie the first day she came here. You’ll see though, if it’s meant for us to have a baby, how difficult it is to stop worrying. It didn’t stop when Sarah....even when I tried to push those feelings away. It doesn’t stop. I know she’s not her, but it’s hard for me to just stand by and watch her do something that could hurt her.”

“I wasn’t standing by, or at least that wasn’t my intention. I wanted to give her space. She’s so delicate, or maybe that’s my problem. I shouldn’t treat her like she’s some glass figurine. I just wanted her to grow comfortable with us by trusting her. Believe me, it wasn’t easy for me to do when there was nothing personally for me to go off of, but then I thought, she’s lived out there for God knows how long by herself. She’s not only seen things but has been able to survive things. It’s hard to see how clever someone is when they won’t let you in, but I knew she had to be to have made it this far. I get it though. I’ve never been a parent. I can only sympathize with your worries. I can not empathize with you until I’ve been where you have. I’m sorry too. I could have found a way to give her space without allowing her to be in such a dangerous spot. You must be disappointed in me.”

He moved up to you and placed his hands on your shoulder. “I’m not. Look at me. I’m not disappointed in you. She was both of our responsibilities earlier.” He brought you into a tight hug. “You’re right, she is smart. She felt comfortable enough to show a side of herself that no one else has seen. You know why? ‘Cause she felt safe around us. Despite the grief she put me through, it was nice to see her so happy.”

“I know it was, wasn’t it? I can’t believe she jumped though! I didn’t think she’d go that far.”

“At the end of the day, kids will be kids. It’s not an excuse to slack off on raising ‘em, but there's just a certain wild and carefree nature that every kid has. It’s instilled in their DNA or somethin’ and then it fades away as they get older, about the time their back starts to ache.” Joel chuckled as he explained. He kissed the top of your head before pulling away to get a good look at you. He made a face as if to ask if you were ok. You nodded. He took your hand and pulled you into the living room. You sat down next to him. “She reminds me of Sarah sometimes. Ellie’s about the same age as her. She ran me through the ringer, raising that one.” He chuckled at the memories. “I wouldn’t trade it in for the world, being her dad, but you shoulda seen the amount of grief she put me through. Especially being a single parent.” He wiped his hand across his face, letting it linger along the length of his neck. “One time, she snuck off to some skate park when I told her no. She was in this skateboarding phase. I bought her a customized skateboard for her birthday and she would practice using it up and down the driveway. She had barely learned that little flippy trick when she asked me to take her to the skate park. I told her no because it looked like it was for experienced skaters. I wanted her to practice more first. To say the least, she was mad at me. She told me she was staying after school for the science club, but she really went to the skate park with some friends. By the time I figured out where she was, I found her lying in the grass, holding her arm in pain. Turned out she had a hairline fracture in her...radius?” He pointed to the bone on his arm. You nodded that it was in fact called radius. “I grounded her for lying to me, but sometimes I wonder if I should have taken her to the park. I mean I’m no expert on skateboarding, but at least I could have been there to supervise; make sure she wasn’t on one of those tough looking ramps.”

“Did you ever take her skateboarding after she healed up?”

“After the cast came off, she switched interests to soccer. I installed a shelf on one of her walls to hang the skateboard on. Better that than being stuffed under her bed. Soccer was her life though. She made new friends from the team, won titles, learned tricks with the ball. Me and Tommy were regulars at her games. I was...am proud of her.”

You smiled as you envisioned his memories. “Did she give you grief with that as well?”

He nodded in an exaggerated way. “Oh yeah, but I’m sure I used to give her grief too.” You lifted your eyebrows with desire for him to elaborate. “I may or may not have argued with the coach and ref on a few occasions regarding plays.”

“You never dated any of the soccer moms?” You teased.

He scoffed. “Most of them were married and the ones who weren’t, I sent Tommy’s way instead. He wasn’t mad at it.” The two of you chuckled. “I did flirt with a few, married or not, so I could get my hands on some of their homemade baked goods.”

“I was under the assumption that soccer moms made food for everyone.”

“They did, but I still wanted a few more cupcakes for the ride home.” He admitted as you laughed. “Listen, I had a busy life. I didn’t have much time to hone my baking skills, so it was nice to be able to have homemade cakes and cookies for a change.

“Well, if you wanted cookies, that’s all you had to say! I can show you how to bake right now.”

“It’s late.” He reasoned.

“It’s never too late to feed your sweet tooth.” You rebutted as you pulled him back into the kitchen.

[imonthinice]

The Criminal Psychology Majors, Jason Todd x Fem!Reader Part 18/?

Word Count: 2.5k

Author's Note: Y/N - your name, A/N - any name (your best friend's name)

Warnings: Mentions of court, mentions of Jason's injuries, swearing, No beta bitch we die like Jason Todd

(Part 1) (Part 2) (Part 3) (Part 4) (Part 5) (Part 6) (Part 7) (Part 8) (Part 9) (Part 10) (Part 11) (Part 12) (Part 13) (Part 14) (Part 15) (Part 16) (Part 17) (Part 18) (Part 19) (Part 20)

Jason walked out in a few minutes, just in his boxers. She looked at him before letting out a slight laugh at the absurdity of it.

"Don't laugh, you're the one who tore my clothes."

She sighed, "And you're going to have to go home in torn boxers, Bruce is going to kill you."

"God, don't remind me," he said before sitting beside her.

She laughed, "You could just not go home?"

"I wish. But I have a life. You have a life."

"It's unfortunate, isn't it. Can't spend all day with you but you're all I want to do."

"Funny."

"Thank you, I really tried," she thought, "You remember how I seem to have a fascination with vigilantes?"

"Yes, why?"

"I remembered why. So, when I was in high school, graduating year, I had law class. I was bored, so I did law, don't question it," she laughed. "Anyway, in my law class, they split us into groups. Specifically, Pro-Justice-League-Association and Anti-Justice-League-Association."

"Pro and Anti?"

"Yeah, apparently it was relevant? I guess the JLA doesn't use conventional methods to get evidence? Don't care though. Anyway, I was on the side of Pro, obviously."

"Obviously."

"Wait I'm not done! By the end of the class, I had debated every member of the Anti team and converted them. It actually introduced me to the Robin-Forums, which is just smack dab full of conspiracies."

"Robin-Forums?"

"Oh my god? You don't know those? You're all over them. Some people are convinced you're Kid Flash, some are convinced you're Robin, it's crazy."

"That is crazy but seems funny. What about my family?"

"Someone in my class posted "Why Clark Kent is Batman: An Essay" which has like, 20k likes? It's very popular."

"Well, I swear he isn't Batman. He's just very fond of the night."

"That's what I said, but that man is convinced otherwise."

"You would know if any of us were vigilantes. We're not good at hiding secrets."

"I'm sure you have your secrets, I just find it funny people think you have time to be Kid Flash."

"People spend all their time worrying about me, when will it end?"

"Ha! That's fair. Tabloids running your name probably doesn't help the conspiracies."

"I remember one of my ex-friends from high school mentioned me being Kid Flash, I was so confused, I guess it makes sense now. I'm going to have to show everyone that. They'll get a kick out of it."

"I bet they would. I'm waiting for the day I'm on it as someone who's a hero. Hoping they say I'm Wonder Woman or something. I think it would be funny."

"You get Miss Martin because everyone thinks you're too beautiful to be human."

"Aw. That's so corny that I hate it! Well done."

"Thank you. I learned it from Dick."

"Of course you did."

"Where else would I learn it from?"

"If you're genuinely asking, the internet, probably."

"That's fair. That's completely fair. I think Dick learns a lot of his lines from the internet, honestly."

"Oh yeah, there's no way he comes up with everything on his own. No way."

"So, what other dumb stories do you have?"

"Well, I think my sister is either a vigilante or really, really, weird."

"You think your sister is a vigilante?"

"Okay so, she's a businesswoman. No big deal, right? Wrong. She's always out, more often than she has to be, she's always spending nights away from home."

"That doesn't mean anything."

"Okay well Adrianna, Aria, whatever you want to call her, she's being suspicious."

"I'm sure you're looking too far into it."

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

The Night Jason Was Stabbed.

Aria clutched the scythe in her life hand. She had failed. She had worn her best dresses that she could hide beneath her capes, she had drugged him, she had stabbed him 6 bloody times, and he had still survived!

She was angry. She walked up to the Red Hood on his time off while he was catching a drink, looking stressed. She didn't care if he accepted her offer to go to her room, she just cared about that moment. The one where she could slip in the crushed-up pills and no one would stop her.

And she had done it. She waited until after he chugged the whole drink to strike. He was stumbling around, like an idiot. She hit his head with the back of her blade, knocking him to the ground where she proceeded to stab him 6 times in his right side.

She kissed his forehead before leaving, which required her to removed her mask a bit, saying "Goodnight, sweet Prince," before running into the darkness.

But the blue one, Nightwing. He got to the Red Hood before he could die. And she was pissed. All that hard work, just for him to not even die.

The scythe was still bloodied from the Red Hood. Her lips were still warm from his forehead. But now, he had possibly seen her face! Her plans were foiled every way when of her goblins came up to her.

"Ma'am, your weapon."

She passed it over without second thought. She wanted it rid of the blood of a living man, she wanted it soaked in the blood of a dead man.

Her plague doctor mask fell a bit as she began to tear up. She had failed. She had never failed at knocking "Heroes" down a peg.

Call it crazy, but she knew the fights between her and the Red Hood were far from over. She even felt as they'd grow closer.

As she looked at the walls covered in the photos of the vigilantes of the world, she knew this was only the first battle. The war was hers. They didn't know what was going to hit them.

But there was an issue. Her sister, Y/N had become close with one of the Waynes. She needed the Waynes to get to the "Heroes" which meant possibly hurting her sister.

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

"I hope I'm looking too far into it."

She wasn't.

One night when they were both 17, it was just Aria and Y/N in the house when Y/N was awoken by a loud crash from the downstairs window.

She went to investigate, bat in hand, to find her sister, stumbling over the coffee table. Bleeding out and clutching her side from the blood. Stabbed.

Y/N took no hesitation to take care of Aria. Stitching her up like they had as kids when Y/N would sitch up Aria after shut cut herself on skates, or if Y/N ran straight into a car.

Those images still dance in Y/N's mind to this day. Something was up with the way that her sister had a mask, a long bird-Esque plague doctor mask. A cloak. Knives. Guns. A scythe.

The best outcome would be her sister was attacked while LARPing in the park. The worst? She was a villain. Midway? A hero of the night, a vigilante. Anything was better than a villain.

If only she knew the pain Aria had caused her until this point. The fact that Aria was the one who drugged and tried to kill Jason. The pieces of the story were unravelling in front of everyone's eyes, they just needed to connect them properly.

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

Aria had a plan. Kidnap her sister and her lover's family. Get ransom. Get them hurting. Locate the "Heroes". The only issue was that Y/N would recognise the cloak, the mask. She knew the get-up.

Aria was not about to redesign her entire outfit for the sake of not alerting her sister. She figured it would be unlikely that Y/N would focus on the cloak when she's being used for ransom money.

Or at least she hoped. She wasn't certain her plan would even work. Breaking into the Wayne Manor, after one of the kids had been stabbed, in a mugging was going to be difficult.

They had employed security, something that was never common at the Wayne Manor before this moment. She was upset. If only her sister had met the Waynes before the stabbing.

Then she thought.

Red Hood is a Wayne?

It made sense, sure. They got stabbed at the same time. But was it reasonable? She didn't know. Why would an 18-20-year-old be a vigilante? He couldn't even legally drink?

She thought it didn't make sense. That the Red Hood was never, could never be the Wayne kid. But if he was, what could that mean?

She was certain he wasn't. But the thoughts swirled in her mind as if beckoning her to come to the conclusion.

She was crazy, she knew that. She was obviously crazy, she became the villain, the opposite of her twin in every way. She was insane. Arkham would like her. But there was something about the Red Hood being a Wayne that kept coming back to her. Haunting her like the night she was stabbed by Green Arrow back in Metropolis.

She was on their radar. They knew her. They would come to get the Waynes.

She knew the Justice League Association knew of her. But the people didn't. This stunt would make the people know of her.

The name Hour will ring through the streets of Gotham. The streets of Metropolis. Smallville. Anywhere she could get her hands on. She would begin her reign of terror.

No one could stop her now.

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

Jason had left after Bruce had called him. She assumed he needed to work or one of his siblings did a dumbass move. It was upsetting that they couldn't spend every moment together, but she knew that it was par for the course with Jason.

She was bored. She didn't have a job, her parents paid her bills if she focused on school. But she wasn't something to do, a reason to be having down days. She knew school gave her this, but it wasn't like it was every damn day.

A job would be every damn day. Hopefully. A reason to do so much in her life.

She figured she could work at Wayne Enterprises. But she didn't want to be that girl. The one who's fucking the CEO and is subsequently untouchable. You can't befriend her and talk sit, she'll tattle.

She wanted to be a normal working person. A colleague, not a boss.

Wayne Enterprises was a last resort for her. If she couldn't get hired anywhere else, she'd go apply thee. You don't fuck company property, she thought.

But she also thought fucking Wanye Enterprises "Property" was fun. and no one was really going to stop her, not even Bruce. Even though Bruce tried to lecture her and Jason, there was only so much he'd do. Barbara and Dick both worked at Wayne Enterprises and hadn't been reprimanded for that.

And obviously, they were having sex. They had been together for a while, Jason said.

Which, obviously they were having sex if they were together for that long.

She scrolled a little while for jobs, marking down a few she'd look further into. Not really anything exciting, she was still young, 1st year in college, a freshman. Not many prestigious places would hire someone her age. Especially while they're still in school.

There were only unpaid intern jobs in her field. And she wasn't about to fuck with not getting paid, even if it was her line of schooling. She didn't think it was worth it to put all of your efforts into a job that you weren't getting paid for.

A lot of kids thought her way, including her sister. Both of them grew up thinking that getting paid for work was necessary, her parents had always told them that. Even if her parents had strict religious views, they would still back her up if someone wasn't paying her, even if they fell out.

She thought if Bruce felt the same, that kids should be paid for what they do. He figured he did since he employed all of his kids once they were old enough to work at Wayne Enterprises.

She noticed Lexcorp, who had recently put up a building in Gotham, was hiring. She thought it would be funny if she went to work for her boyfriend's dad's competitor. She was tempted.

Worst comes to worst, she'd be a Lexcorp employee.

She, of course, would have to dress up for these interviews, and she had the clothes to do so, but she didn't, per se, want to wear them.

She also didn't want to go outside when trials were still raging. So, she figured she'd call Christopher's parents about getting him a lawyer and then scroll the pages for shopping. His parents finally had the time to deal with their son, because Christopher didn't want to interrupt his parents with him being an idiot.

She dialled.

"Hello?" his mom asked.

"Hey, Laura. It's Y/N."

"Y/N! Sweetheart, we've been wondering about you ever since, you know."

"Yeah, yeah. We can talk about it later I swear. So, I already told you about what Christopher did, right?"

"You did."

"He needs a lawyer, the man is pressing charges."

"Well, that's stupid. He has no right."

"Apparently he does."

"We'll get Christopher a lawyer. But how are you, darling?"

"I'm okay. Could be a hell of a lot better. I have faith in the court system."

"We're all worried about you, kiddo. You've wrapped yourself up in a lot of a mess recently."

"I know. It's weird. But I swear I'm strong enough to pull through, you've known me for what, 13 years? Give or take? I know how to handle myself."

"That doesn't mean we can't worry."

"I know, new city, new people. I swear behind the scandals I'm in that I actually have friends."

"I assume we'll meet this Jason eventually?"

"Eventually. We need to find the time between court dates, work. Adulting."

"You don't have a job?"

"Jason does. And I'm thinking about getting one to pass the time."

"Working to pass the time is a new thing, fascinating, you kids are."

"Nothing can make sense of all these things I've done, I know."

"Those sound like song lyrics."

"Sometimes songs are the best way to get all your thoughts compiled into one place, you know. I starred as Katherine Howard, Laura. I know how to convey emotion through art."

"I know. That's still one of the performances Metropolis holds on to, you know."

"I wish they didn't. But it is what it is."

"It's a good performance, kiddo."

She laughed, "Anyway. You get onto that lawyer. Christopher needs it right now."

"I will. Be safe. We love you."

"I love you lot."

Click. She thought about Christopher, and the bullshit he went through to save her.

She brushed the thoughts off and pulled out her journal. Scribbling down her sister's bird mask. She couldn't get that off of her mind. She could have sworn her sister made the thing out of actual bone.

It was like she threw a steampunk aesthetic into a plague doctor. She was certain there was more to it that she didn't know.

Literally Aria LMFAO

[ohmsjedi]

Somewhere Only We Know

Captain Rex x Reader

Word Count: 2654

Summary: Rex get’s the happy ending he deserves. Based off of the song Somewhere Only We Know by Keane. 

Warnings: Okay writing, Fluff, Dad Rex, Dad Rex, Dad Rex, Dad Rex, Dad, Rex, Dad Rex, Dad Rex....

Finding love was impossible for a clone right? Wrong.

It was never impossible to find love no matter were you came from, or who you were. Rex was once property, he belonged to the republic, bred and raised to be nothing more than a solider that could be disposed and replaced with a snap of a finger. There was no chance of falling in love or feeling like a human when most civvies viewed them as aliens or just clones, not viewed as individual people. They were only soldiers to civilians.

Everything changed when he had met you, a Jedi. The thing he admired about you was not only your beauty but how you treated them, you treated them like they were people, like they were men.

He fell hard for you, as the two of you grew closer that’s when things turned for the better for him.

After the war ended, everything changed for him and his surviving vodes. Rex and his brothers were now free, they no longer felt the burden of being constantly reminded that they were only made to fight, to be just soldiers and nothing more. They felt human, for once they would be able to travel freely throughout the galaxy, be able to settle down and start a life even a family if they were lucky enough.

Rex so happened to be the lucky one, he’d gained the courage to ask you to be his;

And you said yes.

Both you and Rex along with most of his closest brothers from the 501st settled on Naboo. Padme worked hard to get the approval from the senate that all clone troopers were to be given a home on any desired planet they chose to settle. 

Instead of being given a home, you and Rex both decided on building one from the ground up. Yes it was questionable at first, but you both just wanted to do something for yourselves for once.

It was worth the struggle, worth the hard work that you both put into your home. Your home was warm and welcoming, not too big and not too small, it suited you both. You specifically wanted your home to be far from the city and Rex agreed. You both decided to locate your home next to a meadow alongside a clear blue river with a medium sized waterfall, greenery with sorts of colorful plants, flowers and plenty of trees. The best part was the sunrises and sunsets that Rex seemed to always watch. He loved watching the sunrises more, it reminded him that he survived, he lived to see another day.

1 Year Later

Rex sat in front of your home on the grass, he rested his chin on his hand, waiting for the sun to rise over the horizon. This fell into a routine, every morning he’d wake up early enough and watch as the dark blue sky would slowly turn into an orange-red shade as the sun risen.

You were woken up from your sleep, feeling the small kicks in your abdomen that was forcing you awake. You looked over to the empty spot of the bed, you smiled to yourself knowing where your lover was. You found it amusing and cute at the same time when Rex would take the time out of his sleep to stand in the cold or warm weather and wait for the sun.

For the past eight months you chose to just sleep in till whenever you’d wake up, it seems today would be different. You sensed that you children were a lot more active than usual, this meant you wouldn’t be able to go back to sleep.

So you decided to join Rex and admire the sunrise. What was interesting was that your un born twins would somehow wake you around this exact time for some unknown reason, right before the sunrise. You didn’t think much about it at first, you’d always end up falling back asleep. You’d like to think they learned the routine of their papa waking up around this time.

You got up slowly from the bed, rubbing the sleep from yours eyes, wincing slightly from your back pain. Carefully you stood up and waddled over to your closet, grabbing your black robe and wrapping it around your body.

You carefully made your way downstairs taking small steps at a time, once you’d reached the bottom of the stairs you rested finding the soreness of your feet and your back taking a massive effect on you. Kix had recommended you to be on bedrest, you went against his wishes and kept yourself on your feet. It felt unnatural having to be forced to do nothing and stay in bed all day. 

 Opening the front door you saw Rex sitting down on the grass slightly hunched over. Seeing Rex like this warmed your heart, this was a completely different side of him that he never truly had the time to express or shown as often. This made you happy.

A shiver ran down your spine, feeling the cool morning breeze. The breeze caused the front door to slam shut, Rex whipped his head around, tense at first but soon relaxing as his gaze landed on your figure standing on the porch looking at him from afar with a small smile on your face.

Rex scrabbled to his feet, tripping over something he didn’t care much to look back at, he finally met you on the porch.

“Cyare what are you doing up this early?”

“The little ones were quite eager to get the day started earlier than usual...or they just missed you” you smiled, Rex grinned and placed his two hands delicately against your swollen belly, feeling small kicks from your twins now that they sensed their father. 

“So much for having force sensitive kids huh?” you joked, resting a hand onto of one of his. Rex snorted, pecking your lips before kneeling down and scrunching up the shirt you were wearing till he could see your bare belly. He started placing delicate kisses and whispering Mando’a into your abdomen:

“Soon mhi'll cuyir able bah emuurir watching haar sunrise together bid a aliit”

You caressed his fuzzy head, adoring how delicate and loving he was being.

Rex looked up at you with adoration in his eyes from where he was kneeling, he stood up and cupped your face with his hand. He leant in and gave you a chaste kiss, resting his forehead against yours. His light brown eyes looked into yours lovingly. 

A source of light caught both your attentions, looking over towards the horizon the sun started to slowly rise. It was always a breathtaking sight to see, even if you’ve seen so many times, but it was still astonishing. 

The sun rays felt like warm kisses against your skin, it brought light to your surroundings, the sun reflected off of the river, creating a shimmery effect beautifully.

Finally bringing your attention back to Rex, he was already looking at you. The sun had brought saturation to his light brown eyes, brightening them to a beautiful amber color with gold flakes scattered about. His brown skin glowed in the natural lighting, he was beautiful.

Rex was in a daze admiring your beauty, the way the sun perfectly lit your face, enhancing all of your features that he adored.

“What?” You let out a breathy laugh, Rex used the pad of his thumb and lightly rubbed your cheek.

“Nothing” he paused for a moment “You’re just so beautiful cyar’ika” your heart swelled at his compliment, you felt so giddy and bubbly on the inside, something that you’d never felt before till now.

You hummed admiring him, trying to remember every single detail of his face in the sun light. You leant in to his touch, and grinned at him.

“Has anyone told you how handsome you look in the sunlight?”

“No one but you cyare” he smiled, you grabbed both his hands into yours, in-twining your fingers together.

“What do you say we have breakfast?” You rocked on your feet slightly

“What did you have in mind?”

“I could eat almost anything...as long at has chocolate in it” Rex laughed, rolling his eyes playfully

“I see we’re either makin’ chocolate pancakes or waffles again hm?”

“You don’t have to eat the chocolate pancakes or waffles if you don’t want to”

“Aren’t you tired of having chocolate? Why not have something else?”

“Well sorry for my specific cravings, why don’t you ask them instead” You pouted, gesturing to your swollen abdomen.

Rex huffed dramatically before grabbing your face delicately into his hands and started placing kisses all over your face

“Rex!” You giggled, a grin formed on his lips while he continued to kiss your face

Oh how much he just loved you

***

Three months had passed since you brought your two little bundles of joy home. Your son Apollo and your daughter Myra, they both resembled Rex so much. They got Rexs brown skin, eye color, born with a full head of dark curly locks, but the one thing they did inherit from you was the force.

Rex was currently rocking his daughter Myra in his arms, she’d woken up crying which Rex was quick to respond for his ade. Myra was a mini version of Rex while Apollo was a mini version of you. Myra was a light sleeper like her father, which made things a bit more difficult, any sudden noise she’d instantly wake up in a fuss or in a crying fit.

Rex knew he wouldn’t be able to get his baby girl back to sleep, she was wide awake in a fit of little babbles and giggles. Just as Rex thought it couldn’t get anymore complicated Apollo had woken up and started fussing. Rex was quick to check on his son who had quieted down seeing his papa hover over his crib. Apollo looked up at his father and gave him a toothless smile and moved his arms in a happy gesture.

“We don’t wanna wake your buir up do we?” Rex asked softly

Apollo started to kick and squirm, a sign that he wanted to be held.

Rex carefully switched Myra to his left arm, while he scooped up Apollo in his right. Rex lightly bounced them both in his arms to get them both situated in his arms. 

Rex had come to realize how his ades would wake up at the same time he use to wake before they were born. They’d wake up early enough before the sun rise everyday since they were brought home. Rex being the incredible buir he is, he spent his early mornings tending to the twins rather than watching the sunrise. 

Rex thought momentarily, before he knew it he was halfway down the stairs, navigating himself through the house, and finally opening the front door to the porch as best as he could. He carefully closed the front door with his foot to not startle you awake, Rex made his way down the three steps and walked on the rock pathway over to the spot he’d always sit. He carefully settled down and made himself comfortable on the bench that you both decided on getting two months ago. 

The two little bundles babbled and squirmed slightly in his arms. Rex leant down and kissed their small noses that caused them to turn into fits of giggles. He smiled down at the both of them, and looked up just in time to watch the sun make its way up over the horizon as it always did.

Apollo and Myra stopped their fits of giggles to watch the sunrise, even if they were just 2 months old, they found the rising sun interesting. Their little faces brightened seeing the gorgeous, radiating view that made them feel warm inside. 

You stirred awake, reaching over to feel for your lover, only to feel a cold and empty spot. You sighed feeling guilty that Rex had to get up this early knowing it was your day to tend to the twins. You walked to the room next door, you poked your head through the door to see no sign of your kids nor Rex. Your mom instincts kicked in, not seeing the three people you loved so dearly gone was a bit concerning, quickly you made your way down the stairs.

Before you could look throughout the house and call out for Rex, you noticed a figure sitting outside through the window

You sighed in relief seeing the man you love, you made your way out the front door and quietly closed it behind you. You took a moment to admire the sight of the beautiful sky, and listen to the little laughs your twins made, along with Rexs voice.

Rex noticed the sudden change in his kids, just by how both Myra and Apollo’s face lightened up and started to move their smalls limbs as to show they were happy or excited, he knew that you were close by, from the corner of his eye you sat next to him. You rested your head on his shoulder and you looked down at your little loves that squirmed in Rexs arms.  

You kissed Rexes cheek feeling the texture of stubble on your lips, Rex turned his head slightly to get a glimpse of you.

“Good morning my love” you said softly in your still tired voice.

“Good mornin’ cyare” Rex said softly, leaning in towards you and capturing your lips with his, the twins started making little noises that caught both of your attentions causing you both to pull away from each other. Myra had put her small fingers in her mouth, while Apollo attempted to make grabby hands at you, you stood up in front of Rex and carefully picked Apollo up from Rexs arm, making sure to support his little head and rocked him in your arms.

“Good morning to you my little prince” you said in a playful voice, Apollo attempted to reach up and touch your face with his little hands, you carefully held his hand and kissed his little palm. This caused him to squirm and make incoherent noises, you placed kisses on his little forehead which made him laugh and smile. 

Rex smiled at the sight of the two of you. He brought his attention back to his ade who looked up at her papa with those beautiful amber eyes. Rex carefully caressed her small face, rubbing his thumb against her chubby cheek.

Rex still couldn’t believe this was real, his family was real. Everything he’d ever wished for became a reality, the pain, the agony, was all gone.

You sensed Rexs emotions shift, you glanced over at your love and noticed how tears formed at the brim of his eyes. You watched as a single tear slid down his cheek.

You sat down next to him, carefully shifting Apollo in one arm, being sure to support his head. You wiped the tear from his face before grabbing his free hand and bringing it up to your lips, carefully placing delicate kisses against his semi scarred knuckles, then kissing his temple.

You rested your head on his shoulder, while he rested his head on yours.

“Just know you’ve always deserved this kind of life....you’re such an amazing, kind, caring, supportive man” you said softly “and I’m glad that I’ll be spending the rest of my life with you because I love you so so much” Rex felt himself tear up even more “I wouldn’t have it any other way” you finished, his bottom lip trembled, Myra sensed how her papas mood had shifted, on instinct, her little hand wrapped around his thumb. Rex felt his ades little hand wrap around his thumb, just this simple act made his heart swell and he cried happy tears. 

Captain Rex finally felt loved. 

Translation: 

Soon mhi'll cuyir able bah emuurir watching haar sunrise together bid a aliit

- Soon we'll be able to enjoy watching the sunrise together as a family

A/N: Hello my loves! I’m a new writer here and I hope you enjoyed this fic and it made your day brighter or in some way brought joy to you! Just remember my love to eat, drink water, and overall take good care of yourself :) 💙

- 𝕰

[annabethy]

under the mistletoe, watching the fire glow day 24: christmas carols

Character A doesn’t feel the Christmas spirit but Character B, who lives above them, keeps playing Christmas carols really loud,, percabeth

Annabeth has never been one to thoroughly enjoy the holidays. She doesn’t necessarily have anything against them, but they’re just not for her. They never have been, for as long as she can remember.

She didn’t get any presents when she was little. Her family did the bare minimum for Christmas. There might have been a tree with the blandest decorations, but that was it. So she grew up with a rather distasteful opinion towards Christmas too. To be fair, it’s more to do with her family than the actual holiday itself, but there’s an association, and now she can’t stand either.

That’s why she decided to move away from California as fast as possible. She graduated high school and booked it, not looking back since. And it was difficult surviving in New York City without any financial support, especially as a college student, but she managed. She worked hard and found a decent apartment.

Or she had thought she found a decent apartment, but there’s ear-shattering Christmas carols playing above her head that cause her to rethink that particular detail.

“You’re kidding me,” she mutters as another starts to play. It’s not even muffled – that’s how loud the music is, and she genuinely doesn’t understand how another person can be so oblivious.

She tries to brush it off for the better part of an hour, assuming that someone else would ask them to shut up, but nothing happens. If anything, it gets worse because the Christmas carols get louder and more unbearable.

An hour finally passes and her willpower fades.

Annabeth tugs on a jacket and slides her feet into the first shoes she sees. She’s vaguely aware of moving around with much more aggression than the situation calls for, but now the person above her seems to have started singing along, and she thinks that violence is the only language this person understands.

It only takes a few seconds of knocking at their door before it swings open. The person she now knows is a guy has a smile on his face that quickly falls when he takes in her own face.

“Hey,” he starts, eyes roaming her face. “Are you okay?”

“Actually, I’m not,” she says. “I think my brain may be hemorrhaging.”

She can see his face morph into confusion. His green eyes actually look a bit concerned for her as he scratches his neck. “What do you mean?”

“Your music is so loud it’s making my brain bleed,” she snaps. “Can you just, you know, have some consideration for those around you and turn it down?”

“My music is too loud?”

“It’s giving me a headache, so I don’t know how you haven’t gone deaf yet.”

“But… they’re Christmas carols.”

“Yeah, I was able to hear that. Because they were loud.” “You don’t like Christmas carols?” He asks it with such passion that she thinks he’ll be seriously offended if she says no.

“I think Christmas carols are a disgrace to humanity.”

He actually gasps, a hand over his heart, but there’s a subtle grin on his face that lets her know he’s only messing with her. “I am so sorry for you.”

Annabeth’s jaw drops slightly. “Sorry for me? I’m sorry that you have horrible music taste.”

He holds his hands up in mock surrender. “You don’t even know me, so how could you possibly know I have bad music taste?”

“I’ve been listening to you blast music for an hour, so trust me when I saw I know.”

He laughs. “Come on, you have to at least give me a chance to prove you wrong.”

“Prove me wrong?”

“To show you I have amazing music taste, and that Christmas carols are the best things to exist.”

She watches as his eyes trace over her, and she can practically sense the approval in his eyes. It makes her heat up just a little bit, and she crosses her arms over herself. “How do you plan on proving that to me?”

“You could come in and I will give you a three hour long monologue about the history of carols and their importance to the Christmas culture.”

She blinks.

“Or you could come in and help me make a gingerbread house while singing Christmas carols with me,” he suggests.

“You’re inviting a stranger into your apartment? What if I were a serial killer?”

“Jokes on you because I don’t have any cereal in my apartment.”

It takes her a moment to get the joke before she snorts at its pure lameness.

“At least let me make up for destroying your brain,” he says, opening the door wider.

“I still don’t know your name.”

“I’m Percy,” he says as though it makes up for everything else.

He’s funny, she decides. “Annabeth.”

He lifts the side of his lips in a lopsided smile. He doesn’t say anything else, simply stepping aside to let her in. She can’t believe she’s actually considering walking into a stranger’s apartment, but then she remembers that he was blasting Christmas carols, so how dangerous could he really be?

She walks inside and the music seems to increase tenfold. He goes to lower the volume from his phone, and it offers immediate relief as the pounding in her eardrums stop.

“Is that better?” he asks.

“The volume is better,” she says, “but the music is still abhorrent.”

“You take that back.”

Annabeth laughs softly as she joins him at the counter. There’s a gingerbread house out and in complete shambles. There is also piped frosting, and it gives her the impression that this is not his first attempt at this.

She looks up at him and finds his eyes already on her. It’s not in a rude way — he seems to be more intrigued by her than anything, and she doesn’t blame him. They’ve lived right next to each other, yet they’ve never met before. She’s just as fascinated by him and his distasteful melodies.

“You wouldn’t happen to be good at gingerbread houses, would you?” he asks, hopeful.

“Actually, I happen to be a competitive gingerbread house maker.”

“Really?”

“I’m an architect,” she tells him, twisting the plate with the house on them. “And I make a mean gingerbread house.”

“Please help me.”

“Why do you even need to make this?”

“I was bored because all my friends went home for Christmas, so I figured why not make a gingerbread house except I can’t get the sides of the house to stick for shit.”

“Enough said.” With that, Annabeth ties her hair up in an impromptu bun, grabbing the frosting from the counter. She truly did not come up to his apartment with any intention other than to make him feel pain for the suffering he’s caused, but then he presented her with this challenge, and she just couldn’t resist.

She certainly didn’t intent on liking it in his apartment either. He’s super kind she learns quickly. He offers her a helping hand and complements her every move, and he’s generally a very inclusive person. He asks her questions about herself and seems to be genuinely interested in her answers. It’s subtle, but in the back of her mind she thinks that she really likes him.

It’s mortifying that it happens in the span of one night, but even the three hours spent with them attempting to piece together a masterpiece (and baking more pieces at Annabeth’s request so that they can recreate a mansion) she finds herself laughing more than she has in months.

“I can’t believe you’re actually this good at making gingerbread houses,” he comments, leaning in close as she pipes an individual icicle onto the roof of it.

“I’m not sure what you expected from an architect.”

“Yeah, but… the person who just happens to come so they can murder me is exactly who I needed. You know what they call that?”

“Coincidence?”

“A Christmas miracle!”

She rolls her eyes, setting the icing down. “I’m only here for the decorating.”

“And because I need to show you that Christmas music is a blessing,” he reminds her. “It’s not possible.”

“It is, actually, because while you’ve been decorating, you’ve also been doing this little dance.

She freezes, just now realizing what she was doing. “I have not.”

“You have,” he says. “It’s cute.”

“I would simply never dance to Christmas music because I hate Christmas.”

“What reason could you possibly have for hating Christmas?”

“I never got to put the star on top of the tree.”

“Is that it?” Percy rolls his eyes. “You can put the star on top of my tree.”

Annabeth’s heart immediately jumps up, and she can’t stop the smile that spreads across her face. It’s so silly, putting a star on top of the tree, but it’s made her so excited for some reason.

“Do you want to?”

“It’s okay,” she says, keeping her voice steady. He smiles softly, grabbing her hand and dragging her away from the kitchen counter. His tree is small in the corner of the living room, and it’s mostly decorated. There is a box of ornaments sitting on a table besides him that lets her know he just hasn’t gotten the chance to finish decorating, and the star is beside it. He picks it up and hands it to her, an amused look on his face.

“Here,” he says.

She crosses her arms. “I’m not doing it if you’re going to laugh at me.”

“I’m not laughing at you!” he assures.

“You’re laughing right now.”

“Because it’s adorable. Come on. Please?”

She gives him a last look before setting the star on top of the tree. It’s a bit taller than her so she has to stand on her toes and lean over it, and he steadies her with a hand on her waist. She takes a step back to look at it. It’s a bit crooked, but as she goes to fix it, he stops her.

“Leave it. It’s perfect.”

“It’s crooked.”

“That’s the point of Christmas! It doesn’t need to be perfect. It’s supposed to be warm and fun and leave you with that fuzzy feeling.”

Annabeth definitely feels that fuzzy feeling, but it’s not from the tree. It’s from the look he’s giving her that makes her face blush.

“You’re not going anywhere for Christmas, are you?”

She glances at him. “No. Why?”

“I just assumed because you said your family wasn’t the best. But I don’t think you should be alone for Christmas.”

“You’re alone for Christmas,” she points out.

“And I was trying to blast music to forget that little fact. It wasn’t working very well, but now you’re here!” She smirks.

“I think you should come over tomorrow so that neither of us have to be alone on Christmas.”

“I don’t want to intrude, Percy.”

“You’ve been here for hours now, and I’ve loved every second of it.” He elbows her lightly. “Come on. We can even make another gingerbread house.”

“I do love making gingerbread houses,” she says with a smile morphing into her face.

“Also I kind of like you.”

“Even if I came here with the intention of yelling at you?”

“To be fair, you did yell at me. I just thought you were cute and invited you in anyways, and you came in so you must also think I’m cute.”

“I think there might be a flaw in your logic there.”

“But am I wrong?”

She doesn’t answer because he’s not wrong. He’s sweeter than frosting, and he’s looking at her with such adoration that she really doesn’t want to leave and be alone on Christmas. Now she doesn’t have to.

“I’ll stay,” she playfully concedes, “if you really want me to.”

“I do.”

“But only on two conditions,” she says.

“And what are those conditions?”

“One, you have to put on some good Christmas music.” “What do you mean good Christmas music!”

“And two,” she starts, laughing at his bewildered expression, “Kiss me.”

That gets him to laugh, throwing his head back. “A kiss?”

“A kiss,” she confirms. “After all, you think I’m ‘cute.’”

His fingers curl around her waist. “You’re very cute. My cute neighbor.”

“And if you kiss me, then… maybe it can be more than just a cute neighbor.”

She knows she’s pushing her luck, but she’s always been good at reading people, and she can read him. She knows he feels the same thing she is. His eyes burn bright.

“If you say so,” he whispers, pulling her in and kissing her hard. It takes her breath away, and she wonders how she’s missed someone right in front of her.

Hours earlier, she’d been upset that he was playing music so loud, but now…

She’d never tell him, but she thinks she might like Christmas carols.

[sprnklersplashes]

songwriter!janis fic (unrequited crush, no-very-happy-ending) 

also on ao3

It all started because she loved Taylor Swift when she was in middle school. Who is she kidding, she still loves Taylor Swift, but that’s where all this began. A middle school girl’s obsession with Taylor Swift. A confused, sad girl with a broken heart and smudged black eyeliner, finding refuge in lyrics about loneliness and anger and revenge. They became anthems for her, mantras to mutter when the warzone of middle school became too much for her.

“Someday, I’ll be living in a big old city, and all you’re ever gonna be is mean.”

“Cause I knew you were trouble when you walked in.”

“I can still see you, this ain’t the best view.”

It amazes her. It’s honestly as if Taylor Swift has managed to look into her life and given her a bundle of songs for whatever she needs. For when Regina has thrown her one too many snide looks, for when she’s standing at the door of North Shore High on her first day, for when she eats lunch alone, for when her mom is the best mom she could have asked for, for when she and Damian are lying on the grass in her backyard, staring up at the sky, laughing at absolutely nothing. The songs become the soundtrack to her life, the chords and those raw, honest lyrics an emotional outlet she so desperately craves. Taylor, and her songs, become a confidant, almost a close friend who always knows what to say.

With all that in mind, perhaps it was only a matter of time before she asks for a guitar for Christmas. She’s fourteen, braces and a slight lisp, and jumps up and down like a mad woman when she sees it under the tree.

She practices for three days straight, until her fingers bleed, but Should’ve Said No is the first song she learns off by heart. She yells the lyrics with maybe a little too much passion, but her parents applaud her nonetheless.

Like she said, that’s how it all started.

Because that same Christmas, she realises that screaming her feelings while playing guitar actually feels pretty cathartic. And that if it worked for Taylor Swift, it could work for her. So she writes stuff down, plays around with chords and strumming until the beat on the guitar matches the one in her head. She grabs a page and a pencil and writes and re-writes her innermost thoughts and feelings on the page until they sound the way she wants them to. She plays around with rhyme schemes and structure and everything she’s been taught about in English class, and a thrill runs through her as she does so. It’s the same breathless high she feels when she paints or draws, the rush that comes from creating something.

Her parents sit on the other side of her bedroom door, no doubt exchanging worried glances as she repeats the same verse, same chorus, with only a word changed. She watches them when they think she can’t see, peering through the crack in her door. The conclusion they seem to come to is ‘well, as coping mechanisms go, it’s pretty good, and she’s happy, so who are we to stop it?’.

It takes her four days to finish her first song. And it sucks. But she keeps it, writes down the lyrics and chords in one of the few empty notebooks she has, and there’s no going back from it now. She writes, and she writes, and she writes, near enough every day. She likes to think she gets better with each one. She learns more chords, buys a cheap ukulele the summer after freshman year, tries her hand at piano during a particularly difficult few weeks. She doesn’t plan on doing anything with them. They’re just her little pieces to hold on to. Her therapy sessions outside the carpeted office.

No-one knows about it. She has a reputation to keep up, after all. The loner-by-choice, too-cool-for-school, aloof art freak. Everyone has their roles to play in the ecosystem that is high school and, much as she hates the entire system, that is hers to play. And she plays it well, if she may say so. The fact that hardly anyone knows her past that facade suits her just fine. After all, if people think she doesn’t care, she can’t get hurt. No-one needs to know that Janis Sarkisian actually has feelings.

Even less need to know that she writes songs about said feelings.

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By the time she reaches her junior year, she’s onto her third notebook. She keeps them tucked away in her sock drawer, expertly hidden so only she can find them. Damian teases her about it, calling her “the protagonist of a Disney Channel Original Movie”. She just rolls her eyes and reminds him that “if either of us is gonna be Disney’s first openly gay character, it’ll be you”. He can’t argue with that.

It should be noted that when Janis said that no-one knows about her songwriting, Damian was the obvious exception. He found out just weeks after she started. There’s no keeping secrets from him.

Between all her notebooks, she’s written around forty songs.

Then she meets Cady Heron one day. The human embodiment of a labrador puppy, complete with wide, lost eyes. She likes her instantly, decides to take her under her wing because Lord knows the girl needs it. Cady’s smile is infectious, her laugh like a summer breeze. She has dimples and caramel-coloured hair and really likes maths.

She meets Cady on a Monday.

By that Saturday, song number 41-titled “Dimples and Curls” is more or less complete.

She plays it for Damian, hands only slightly shaking as she changes chords, the strumming short and upbeat, the melody strangely happy for such a bittersweet song.

He applauds her, but the subject of the song hangs in the air even after she’s played the last chord and the music fades. Unsaid, but not unknown. Just like her songwriting, Janis couldn’t keep a crush from Damian if she tried.

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“Hey, check it out.”

Cady drops onto the seat across from Janis, the whole table shaking as she does so. Like a small meteor just hit Earth. Janis looks up from her lunch, pretending like she had been doing her own thing and not watching the door until Cady came in. Pretending like her stomach doesn’t do little flips at the sight of her crossing the cafeteria. She pulls the flyer towards her and hums in amusement.

“The winter talent show,” she reads before chomping off a carrot stick. “Oh, is it that time of year already?”

“Seems like only yesterday we was welcoming the young’uns into this brave new world during the harvest season,” Damian sighs, putting on a delightfully over the top Southern Belle accent, no doubt influenced by their reading of Streetcar Named Desire in English class. Janis cackles, and nearly chokes on her lunch as she does.

“And now the cold winds of winter are descending upon us,” she replies, her accent equally heavy. She bats her eyes for good measure, because she can and because it makes Cady laugh. “Oh but I pray the children will survive this season, it is often rough for them.”

“I am never showing you two anything winter related ever again,” Cady says.

Janis just shrugs and runs her hand through her hair before her eyes go back to the flyer. Clearly, whatever sophomore they got to design it this year did their best; found the prettiest looking snowflakes on Google Images to put on the cartoon stage, decided to write in some swirling, slanted font rather than the start-studded block lettering they usually went for. It’s still the same as it is every year, meaning just as mockable, but she’ll give them points for tying.

“Well, anyone here going for it?” she asks. She looks from Damian to Cady and back again, a teasing smirk on her lips. “Last year and all that.”

“Not sure I can,” Damian sighs. “I mean, I’m booked up with Spelling Bee rehearsals and spring cabaret auditions happening next semester.” He drums his fingers against his throat. “Gotta give the little vocal chords some rest, you know?”

Janis’ response is to sing the lowest note she possibly can before turning to Cady and giving her a pointed look, the corner of her mouth quirked up.

“Who? Me?” Cady’s cheeks turned crimson and she shakes her head so much that the caramel curls bounced around her shoulders. “No way. Damian can take the stage, I’m fine with my calculators and textbooks.”

“You could always solve equations in front of everyone,” Janis says. “I could call out college-level questions from the audience and you solve them in under 30 seconds.”

“I think I’ll pass,” she giggles. She leans forward slightly, eyes glittering, and Janis does her best not to squirm. The effect Cady Heron’s eyes have on her should be studied by scientists. “What about you, Janis?”

“I don’t know.” She thinks back to when she helped on stage crew last year, as well as helping out (or taking over) with the set design. It had been fun, the kind of challenge she needed to keep her mind off the slowly-going-off-the-rails plan. And she was told it looked good on her college applications, because all people can think about apparently is college, college, college. “Maybe. They might need another genius stage manager.”

“And you’ll step in if they can’t find one?” She digs Damian in the ribs for that comment.

“But not performing?” Cady asks, and Janis freezes. Performing had never even crossed her mind before. She’s used to backstage, hell, she likes backstage. It’s not that she has stage fright or anything, and if she had, her stunt at Ms Norbury’s little healing session would have squished it. She had just never thought about it.

But Cady had, apparently.

“I-No, I-I don’t think so,” she stammers out. “Um, I might do backstage again, but not actually doing something, you know, talent related.” She bites her tongue and clamps her lips shut before anything else can come out.

“Okay then,” Cady replies slowly. She gets up from the table, her little empty water bottle in her hands. “I’m going to go for a refill, save my seat.”

“No problem,” Janis says, but Cady’s already jogging away.

She doesn’t know if it’s good or bad that Cady’s known her too long to think of her as cool, and so this kind of awkward babbling isn’t really surprising to her. Instead of thinking about it, she just sets her head on the table and lets Damian rub her back.

“You were nowhere near as bad as you think you were,” he assures her.

“Title of your sex tape,” comes her murmured reply. Damian chuckles and runs his fingers through her hair, like she’s his pet cat. It helps.

“So you’re definitely not going for the talent show then?” he asks.

Her first instinct is to say no, because of course she isn’t, because she never has before and she sees no point in breaking a three-year streak, but the answer catches in her throat. At the same time, something begins forming in her brain, pieces of a melody she’s already known, words filling in blank spots in her brain, and her fingers twitch involuntarily, playing the chords on an invisible guitar. Without a word, she grabs a notepad and pen from her bag and scribbles the words down before she forgets them, quickly becoming breathless just by sitting there. She forgets, for a moment, everything else, the talent show, Cady, even Damian next to her, and just revels in the task and the quick buzz she gets just from writing. Just like that she has one eye on the clock, itching to get home and put her notes into the rest of the song.

But with those notes came an idea, an idea so completely out of left field she almost laughs at it.

“Janis?” Damian asks, just slightly unnerved by her. If anyone else were at this table, even Cady (especially Cady), she would have had to excuse herself and run to the bathroom, or just hope the words stayed in her head long enough for her to get a quiet moment. “Did the Goddess of Music just possess you again?”

“Maybe,” is her response. He doesn’t know it, but she answered both the questions he asked in the past minute.

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She sits on her bed that night, her homework half-done and strewn across the desk, abandoned in favour of the guitar sitting in her lap and notebook open on her bed. She’s been working on his song for the better part of a week, inspiration and motivation seemingly striking and then fading whenever she gets a free moment. Abandoning it has crossed her mind-she’s no stranger to abandoning things that aren’t working-but for some reason she hasn’t quite been able to shake this particular song off.

Maybe it is Euterpe, the Goddess of Music, descending upon her because this song has to be finished, it has to be, Olympus willing it so.

Or maybe it’s because this song is one of the most personal things she’s ever written, a love letter she’ll never send, and the idea of it sitting unfinished drives her crazy.

She plays another chord and sings the line again, changing the ending slightly, and makes the adjustment in her notes.

She’s crazy. This is already crazy, her secret double life as a wannabe T-Swift, but now she’s gone beyond that. Thinking of actually playing it. On a stage. In front of people. She doesn’t care what people think of her, she stopped caring about that a long, long time ago, but holy shit what will people think of her after she does this? Life isn’t like the movies, she knows that much. It won’t be some pretty, softly-lit moment where the crowd sits with teary eyes, Cady runs onstage and kisses her and she’s offered a deal by some big shot producer, and they all live happily ever after the end. What could happen is people think she’s even more of a weirdo than they do now.

Or she gets tomatoes thrown at her head and she’s booed off the stage. That’s a possibility.

She calls Damian, because that’s the only way she sees out of her little thought cul-de-sac. She puts the phone on speaker and props it up against a pillow, keeping her hands free for her guitar and her pen. He picks up on the third ring, just as she’s strumming out a G chord.

“Oh, is someone prepping for her Grammy?” he asks. “You’re still taking me as your date, right?”

“Only if my dog can’t go,” she replies. She taps her nails against the wood, the rhythm too fast and frantic to just be a habit. Yes, she can tell Damian anything, and being nervous in front of him is laughable, but sometimes her body forgets that. “So, I was thinking about the talent show.”

“Oh? You’re going for stage crew again? Cool.”

“No-not exactly.” She knows he can’t see the smile creeping across her face, but she’d wager he can hear it through the phone. A small swarm of butterflies flutters in her chest, leaving her just slightly out of breath. “I… I. think I’m going to try performing in it.”

A burst of laughter comes through the phone, slightly tinged with static, and Janis wishes he were here so she could slap him. Even if it’s not malicious in intent at all, and she’s laughing right along with him. Slapping is kind of a love language for them.

“Okay, okay cool. What’re you going to do?”

“I’ll give you a hint,” she says, and then she plays the opening chords to her latest experiment. She doesn’t add in the lyrics, not yet. Still, she sits back and basks in his applause when she finishes, cackling into her hand. He might be one person, but he’s got enough enthusiasm to match a packed auditorium. “What do you think?”

“I’m into it,” he tells her. “So… that’s the one you’re doing?”

“Think so.” She tosses the pick between her fingers. Like he could feel her smile, she can feel his raised eyebrow through the phone, the elephant in the room poking her with its trunk. “Yes, I know.”

“I didn’t say anything.”

“You thought it,” she tells him, and he doesn’t deny it. She looks back over the lyrics she’s written and re-written. Despite some adjustments, it’s still in essence the same. Still about a girl with pretty hair who smells like vanilla and cinnamon, who has a boyfriend and is unknowingly breaking the heart of a girl with black eyeliner and paint stained fingers. Because her boyfriend is pretty and clean and smells like soap and can do math, and how is the poor art girl even meant to compare to that?

“Yes,” she says after a while. “It is about Cady.”

“Aw, my poor lovestruck songstress,” he sighs. He shifts then, and the air shifts with him. “You sure that’s the one you want to sing? I mean you have dozens of other non-Cady related songs. I’m sure Mr Duvall would love to hear Angry Teenage Lesbian Anthem.”

“First off, I gave that one a title, it’s called Shattered,” she reminds him. “And-” She freezes, the rest of her sentence catching in her throat. He’s right. She could perform one of her other songs, that are already finished and therefore removing the pressure to have this one finished, polished and stage-ready. And of course, it would mean she wouldn’t be standing in front of her entire grade and telling them all how badly she’s in love with her best friend. Showing her deepest secret to the people who have already driven her out of school once. It’s a far safer, potentially less traumatic option for her.

But…

“No,” she says. “I know it sounds crazy but I feel like… I feel like I need to do this.” She swallows thickly and picks softly at the guitar strings. “It’s like… like this way at least I’m telling her, you know? Even if she doesn’t know it.”

Of course, Damian gets it.

“That’s beautiful, babe,” he tells her. “So you’re actually doing this?”

“I’m actually doing this,” she replies firmly. “And tomorrow, I need you to make sure I don’t chicken out before I sign up.”

“Got it. I’ll just order you to do it as Senior Co-Chair of the Student Activities Committee.”

“That’s an abuse of power.”

“Then consider yourself abused baby.” He laughs and she laughs with him, and then she hears something on Damian’s end. “I have to go. A certain little sister of mine has a princess costume that needs attending to. See you later.”

“See you later,” she replies before he clicks off the call. She looks down at her paper, then at her guitar, and thinks about what she just committed to. “I’ve got some work to do.”

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The song goes through four rewrites in the weeks leading up to the talent show. The whole first verse is changed, the chorus scrapped and replaced with a new one, then that one is scrapped and she goes back to the old one. She sits hunched on her floor with a pencil in her mouth, wondering if what she’s written is too personal or not personal enough. If it’s too obvious that Cady, smart cookie that she is, will work it out and that’ll lead them down a new, scary path. She cuts some lyrics that give the game away, opting to replace one about love for numbers with love for learning, because that opens up the pool to half their grade. She writes about Cady’s blue eyes rather than specifically those double dimples that make her melt. Maybe she’s compromising her artistic vision, but it might be worth it if it’ll keep her crush a secret. She keeps the old lyrics tucked in the back of her notebook, just to have them.

Meanwhile, she’s also dealing with the fact that people know she has signed up for the talent show. That Miss Too Cool For School Loner Art Freak Janis is actually performing at a school event. And she doesn’t even get extra credit for it. They’re surprised, and curious, and none more so than Cady. The other girl appears at her side almost instantly after first period, skinny little arms wrapped around her bicep and blue eyes alight.

Oh, the things those eyes do to her.

“Janis!” she squeaks. “I saw-on the sign up sheet-your name! Oh my God, is this a joke? Did Damian put you up to it?”

“No, no, I signed up of my own accord,” Janis tells her. That only makes Cady bounce more, ponytail bobbing up and down.

“Oh wow, that’s amazing!” she says. She stops then, her mouth freezing in its place and her cheeks turning pink. Slowly, she comes down to Earth, like a balloon that had the air let out of it. Janis can almost hear the wheeze. “I mean um, it’s pretty cool, I guess.”

“It’s pretty grool,” Janis replies, and just like that Cady bounces back up again.

“Oh my gosh, what are you going to do?” she asks. “Or do you want it to be a surprise?”

“You think I have some secret knife-throwing talent?” she grins. She hesitates for a moment, looking down at Cady’s excited face, because even if this isn’t telling her… it’s telling her. “I’m… I’m going to sing.” She pulls on the strap of her backpack and avoids Cady’s eyes. “Something I wrote.”

“Okay,” Cady says. “Who are you and what have you done with my best friend?”

“Hey!” she laughs. “I can write stuff. I can be deep.”

“Oh, I have no doubt about it,” Cady says, bumping her arm against Janis’. “But for real, Janis, I can’t wait to see it. I know you’ll be amazing.”

Warmth spreads across her pale cheeks, a pink blush no doubt colouring her face, and she somehow manages to choke out a “thanks” as her brain turns to static. Her only thought is ‘Cady thinks I’m going to be good’, and it’s written in glitter pen across her brain.

“This is going to be great,” she goes on. “Oh, wait until I tell Aaron. He’s got a break in his schedule that week so he’s coming up to see the talent show! Isn’t that great?”

And just like that, Janis’ good mood falls. Her face stays the same, because she’s trained to do it, but everything behind it crumbles.

“Yeah, that’s great,” she replies. Cady squeezes her hand, oblivious, and drags her along the hallway, chatting away about some lion documentary she had watched last night.

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She finishes the song that night. She arrives home with a heavy chest, so full of complicated, messy feelings, and her conversation with Cady still so fresh in her mind, her ears still ringing from the emotional whiplash. Her parents barely get a ‘hello’ as she enters and bolts up to her room, her hands shaking, the thoughts swirling around her brain desperate to be let out.

And let them out she does. She writes so quickly they look more like smudges than words, her fingers flying over rapidly changing chords, her voice broken and panting as she sings. The words almost write themselves, like the song has taken on a life of its own and she’s just along for the ride. She barely remembers to pause, to breathe, so wrapped up in the storm she’s created with just her guitar and pen.

It’s only when she finishes and falls back on her bed that she notices the tears in her eyes. She blinks them away and pulls herself up, her notebook in her hand. It’s done. The perfect blend of her own honest feelings and just enough smokescreen to keep people from knowing who it’s really about.

There’s no backing out now, she thinks. Her stomach drops, like she’s on the top of a roller coaster about to go down. A laugh bubbles up in her throat and leaves her breathless, her head spinning while she’s still laying there.

If holy shit were am adjective, she'd use it to describe how she feels. Because holy shit.

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Being backstage when she’s not on crew is a strange experience. She stands with her guitar slung around her body, in the middle of a current of students moving around her, half with the clunky microphones and walkie-talkies she’s used so many times before. She asks five of them if she can do anything to help-because they’re her people and she needs to do something to occupy her time-until she finally takes the hint and leaves them to it. Stagehands are the most efficient parts of any production, as she told Damian once. They’re a well-oiled machine at this point.

“Yo!” For a second, Janis thinks she imagined the whisper, just one in a jumble of backstage noises, until Damian appears at her side. A tiny ‘shit’ escapes her mouth, her body jerking. Barely anyone bats an eye at her, except him. “Sorry, didn’t mean to spook you.”

“Don’t worry. I think at this point a small breeze could knock into me and I’d crumble.”

“The great Janis Sarkisian gets nervous?” he asks, eyebrow raised.

“Only when she’s doing something incredibly personal and scary in front of her entire grade,” she whispers back. She swallows past the lump in her throat. “Aside from that I’m a beacon of confidence and unshakable will.”

“Hey.” He taps his knuckles against hers. “Remember how scared you were at Norbury’s assembly?”

“You mean after I had my picture all over the school with the d-slur written underneath it?” she mutters. “Yeah, I was shitting myself.”

“And yet, look what you did there,” he reminds her. “You were amazing. And you’re going to be amazing here too. Once you get on that stage, all those butterflies are going to make you fly, kid.”

She smiles, her heart warm, and pressed her face into the crook of Damian’s neck.

She doesn’t know how she got so lucky to have him, but she knows better than to tempt fate.

“Janis Sarkisian?” She lifts her head to find a freshman girl with a headset around her neck looking at her. “You’re up next.”

“Okay.” It’s only now she becomes aware that the last minute of Fairytale Of New York is playing, the notes will soon fade out, and that’s her cue. She turns to Damian and lets him straighten her black cardigan and fiddle with the collar of her shirt. “Wish me luck.”

“You don’t need it.” He drops a whisper of a kiss to her nose. “But good luck.”

She holds her half-heart necklace as he goes, the twin to the one around his neck. It’s as close as she can get to having him with her. Her chest tightens as she makes her way to the stage and she tries to breathe through it, because the next thign she knows, Mr Duvall is announcing her name, and she’s being greeted by a blinding spotlight that thankfully obscures most of her peers’ faces.

“Uh, hi,” she says into the microphone placed out for her. It’s just people , she reminds herself. Somewhere in that crowd, second row, seat 14, is Damian, and she breathes easier. And next to him is Cady, the girl this song is about, and for some reason that straightens her spine and irons out the shaking in her voice. She takes the pick out of its holder and tosses her hair back. “This is a song I wrote about being in love with someone who doesn’t love you back.” She blinks and hopes no-one sees the tears in her eyes. “So sing along if you get into it, because we all know it’s a shitty ass feeling.”

She plays the first chord, and then any and all doubts she had about this flee her. As cliche as it sounds, the song takes over her, and she blows through the nerves in the first verse. The experience becomes cathartic instead, like releasing a pressure valve on her soul. Even with the little diversions she threw in, she hasn’t felt this open and god damn free since last year, paraded on her peers’ shoulders with both middle fingers up. Except now she’s not flipping anyone off, or proving a point, she’s just finally telling someone how she feels, and holy shit, it’s amazing. Whatever the aftermath of this is, she won’t care, it’s worth it just for this feeling.

As she sings the last word, and that final note rings in the auditorium, her hands are shaking, her cheeks wet with tears and her hair sticky with sweat. She touches beneath her eye and her fingers come away stained black.  She hasn’t cried in front of people since middle school. She doesn’t care.

The cheers of her classmates ring in her ears, Damian’s whooping the loudest of all, and as she takes her bow, she hopes she’ll remember this moment for a long time.

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“Oh my God!” she’s barely into the auditorium when Cady launches herself at her, arms wrapped around her neck and legs circling her waist. Janis nearly topples over, digging her back leg into the ground just in time, and hugs Cady with the same ferocity. “You were amazing!” she yells into her shoulder, the sound muffled by Janis’ hair.

“Really?”

“Absolutely.” She sets Cady down, but the other girl keeps a tight grip on both her arms. Janis wonders if it’s to keep herself from flying away, given the amount of bouncing up and down she’s doing. “I can’t believe you wrote that! It was so good! You need to record it, Jan. Do you have any other songs?”

“Just a few,” she says. “And I don’t know if I’m in the business of making an album any time soon.” She swings her guitar case a little. “This might have been a one-time thing.”

“Well, even if it was, it was awesome,” she says.

“Thank you, Caddy,” Janis replies. “That means a lot.”

Her mouth runs dry as Cady smiles, all baby pink lipgloss and sparkling eyes and full cheeks. If this were a movie, she thinks, this would be the part where they kiss. No need for talking, or an explanation. Because Cady would have just known. The music would turn soft and twinkly, and the lighting would match it and it would look like they’re in a dream and they’d just kiss, and it will fix all of Janis’ problems. Maybe a single tear will run down her cheek. And then they’ll run off into their new lives as the end credits roll.

How sweet that would be.

But her life isn’t a movie. If she wants anything, she has to go for it herself.

And that includes-

“Caddy.” Her name is delicate on her lips, handled with care. Cady looks at her, giving a simple ‘mm-hm’ in response, and Janis’ heart beats out of control. “That song I just sang, it-”

“Hey, guys.”

Also if this was a movie, Cady’s sweet, lovely, nice boyfriend would not be barging in right now. He’d either be a douchebag who she doesn’t feel bad about hurting, or he’d be nonexistent.

Unfortunately, this is not a movie, and Aaron Samuels exists and is the human equivalent of a squishmallow.

“Hey Aaron.” He slings his arm around Cady’s shoulders, and she leans into his touch almost instinctively. “Janis, you were great up there. I didn’t know you wrote songs.”

“It’s a bit of a new hobby,” she says, her voice hoarse. She clears her throat, and finds a bottle of water being handed to-thrown at-her.

“Hydrate those chords,” is Damian’s greeting.

“This is what I get for being friends with a theatre kid,” she sighs before she takes a drink. She hadn’t realised how dry her throat was until now.

“Okay, so we’re all going for pancakes,” Aaron says. “I take it you two are coming?”

“How can I say no to pancakes?” Janis asks. “Uh, you guys go ahead, I have to get my stuff from the green room.”

“Okay, we’ll wait for you,” Cady says. “Aaron brought his car so he can drive us.”

“Grool.” Cady and Aaron turn around together, Aaron spinning his eyes around his finger and Cady lacing her fingers through his, talking about something she can’t hear. It’s like watching them through a sheet of glass.

Not a movie. Not unless it’s one of those really, really sad movies. Sad homophobic movies.

“You okay?” Damian asks. She snorts at the question. Nothing has changed, so of course she’s okay. But then, nothing has changed, so she’s not really okay.

“I did it,” she sighs. “It’s out there. I told her, unofficially. Whether or not she works it out…” She runs her hand through her tangled hair. “That’s something else entirely.” Damian hums in agreement, a sympathetic look on his face that soon morphs into a grin.

“Hey,” he says. “I’m proud of you.”

“Thanks Mom.” They snort, Janis caught between a laugh and a sob, and squeezes Damian’s hand. She’s not optimistic about any romance in her future, at least where Cady is concerned. She and Aaron are still rock-solid and she’s happy for them, whenever she isn’t angsting about it. It’s a weird combination to have.

And at least she’s done this now. Despite a future for her and Cady not being in the cards for now, she’s glad she did it. The secret isn’t out, not entirely. Just written on the walls in invisible ink.

“Come on,” she tells Damian. “I actually do have to get my bag, and you can use this as an opportunity to double check the ghost light is on.”

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

Cady and Aaron keep their promise and wait for them, waving off their apologies as they jog across the parking lot. Cady lets Damian take the front seat with Aaron and slides into the back with Janis instead. Janis frowns, confused as to why she isn’t taking her normal seat up front, and Cady rolls her eyes.

“There was a draw on the way here, and we lost,” she explains. “And now Damian has control of the aux chord,” She gestures with her head to the passenger seat, and Janis turns just in time to see him open his Spotify and scroll through his playlists. As the opening notes to Waving Through A Window fill the car, it’s met with three loud groans. Damian only turns it up louder, and adds in his own backing vocals.

“So, that song you sang,” Cady asks, leaning back in the seat. “Was it about anyone in particular?”

Janis looks down, her hands pressed together in her lap. If this is the moment the universe decided to give her, it’s a really terrible moment. Not only is Cady’s whole boyfriend sitting an arm’s length away from her, but she left her nerve back in the auditorium. Clearly, her and fate aren’t on each other’s wavelength.

“You wouldn’t know her,” she says. “She doesn't even go here.”

“Oh,” Cady replies. Her face falls, but she’s not too put out by it. Why would she be? She nudges Janis’ shoulder, a proud smile on her face, and squeezes Janis’ hand. “Well, if she has someone like you into her and she hasn’t taken the chance yet, then she doesn’t know what she’s missing.”

Janis only thanks her, and quickly changes the subject.

Someday she might tell her for real, but for now she'll stick to the songs.

[walkerwords]

“The Savior Sessions” Part 25 of 33 - Negan x GN!Reader

IMAGE CREDIT: AMC

SERIES MASTERLIST

Summary: The communities are on alert as Negan goes missing and Alpha remains quiet. As the reader is dealing with the love of their life disappearing again, Negan finds company on the road.

Word Count: 5413

Warning: Swearing, Graphic Depiction of Violence

Song I Wrote To: “Wicked Game” by James Vincent McMorrow

Note: We begin with the reader’s POV, but we focus on Negan for the rest of it. Reminder, I will be changing things from canon with the rest of these chapters. all official dialog is property of AMC. 

--------

One Week Earlier…

“You know, I once knew a woman who could swallow a sword,” you said, examining your own blade in the low light of the cell. “I think in another life, I could do it.”

“Let’s not try tonight, okay?” Negan said, lowering the blade with his fingertips as he sipped from the clear jar you had brought him.

There was too much drama going on at the moment with Alpha, her Walkers, and of course, just trying to stay sane in all of it. Nevertheless, you still found time to indulge in the man that you loved. 

Showing up at his cell once it became dark was a normal thing, but the jar of moonshine that you had brought along with you was a change. A very welcomed one at that. You and Negan now sat on the floor of the cell, your backs against the cot, basking in the alcohol as it warmed your veins. 

“I still think this shit is highly dangerous,” Negan said, passing you the jar back. 

“It’s flammable too,” you said with a small laugh as you leaned against him. “Learned that the hard way.”

“Do tell,” he urged and you sunk further into him, getting comfortable. Negan slung an arm around you, keeping you close. 

“Eugene used to keep it outside of Alexandria in an old electrical box thing,” you explained, trying not to slur your words. “One day, he asked me if I would help him move some of it to Hilltop. I think Jesus or Alden wanted some. Anyways, us being morons, went out in a thunderstorm.”

“Which of course was not your favourite plan,” Negan said. 

“Right,” you agreed. “So, we were on our way to the place that he was holding it in when Eugene suddenly realized he had forgotten to take the big metal antenna off the top of the box.”

“Oh no,” Negan said, running his hand over the back of your neck as he listened. 

“We were about fifteen or so feet from the thing when lightning strikes and the spark lights the booze causing a massive fire. The worst part was that Eugene was also storing some leftover fuel at this place for Daryl’s bike and well…” you trailed off, making explosion movements with your hands. “I smelled like burning metal for three days.” Negan started laughing at that and you looked up at him, trying to see his face. You always loved it when he laughed. 

Reaching up, you ran your hand over his face and he turned towards you. “You are just…” you trailed off. 

“I’m what?” he asked, raising an eyebrow as he gazed down at you. 

“Unpredictable,” you whispered. “You surprise and amaze me every damn day.” 

“That’s good though, right?” he asked, tilting his head. 

“It’s very good,” you said. “I’m not cut out to deal with the mundane.”

“Good cause you are anything but ordinary,” he said softly. The moonshine in your system was forgotten as those hazel eyes bore into yours. He was like the sun and you were trapped in his gravity. 

“You know that I’m always going to be here for you, right?” you asked.

“I know,” he whispered. 

“I just need you to understand that I trust you with my life and more,” you said, sitting up more. “I know that things are going to get messy with the Whisperers, but I think we’re gonna get through it. Especially if we stick together. I think we can win this war.” Negan wrapped his hands around your waist, pulling you into his lap. Bracing your hands on his shoulders, you ran your fingers through his hair. 

“I know, (Y/N),” he said. Tightening his grip, Negan made sure to be looking you in the eyes, something he always did when he was completely earnest. “I don’t know what I would do without you. For a while, I thought that there wasn’t a future for me besides these four walls, but you changed that. I love you so much and I know that you are right. We will win this war, no matter what it takes.” 

Smiling down at him, you leaned in to kiss him softly. “I love you, too,” you whispered against his lips as he pressed you harder against him. You laughed as he grabbed the bottom of your shirt and pulled it over your head before kissing you again. 

The moonshine on his lips was sweet but full of fire which was a perfect metaphor for the strong man that you gave your entire body and soul to…

A loud crash came from your right as a pile of lumber fell over near the windmill, taking you out of your memories. 

“Ya good?” Daryl said from beside you as he added fletching to his bolts. 

“Fine,” you said, running a hand down your face, trying to break out of the trance you had been in. 

It had been a day since Negan had gotten out, or was let out, and you didn’t know how to even begin to understand what was going on inside his head, let alone yours. 

The last time Negan had left, you had been angry, but now you were just confused. Something didn’t feel right about any of it. Negan wasn’t a saint, everyone knew that, but he wasn’t stupid and he wasn’t heartless. Multiple scenarios went through your mind after Gabriel told you what happened. 

Lydia had tried to take the blame, but you had barely slept that night and would have woken if she had snuck out at some point. Then there was the fact that you didn’t hear anyone below the Grimes house all night. So, if someone had let him out, it was definitely a planned maneuver. 

Negan getting out was something that you wanted to happen, but you wanted it to happen on your terms. You and Negan would have had to make the decision together. The two of you had even talked about running and staying gone for a while so tensions could calm down. You’d go North, see what was in New York or Philly. You always thought that you would come back a year or so later and things would be different.

It was reckless and an idea that you didn’t think you’d ever actually do, but it was still in your mind. Negan had cautioned you against thinking such things. You figured he was afraid that you were going to alienate your family for him. What he didn’t understand was that he was your family and if he could be free, it would be worth it. 

At least, that’s what you told yourself. 

Now, you weren’t so sure what all those words he said to you meant. Did he even want to get out with you or was he using you? No, Negan would never use you. He had promised that you were different from all the relationships he had had in the past and the man never lied. 

And yet, maybe he had been lying the whole time. 

Your brain felt as if it was on one of those rickety carnival rides from your childhood as it invented theory after theory, trying to soothe curiosities. It was disorientating and it was also making it difficult to focus.

Leaning your hands on the table before you, you picked up one of Daryl’s bolts, turning it over in your hands as you wondered what it would feel like to put one of them between Beta’s eyes. 

“(Y/N),” Daryl said again and you dropped the projectile. 

“Sorry,” you said, rolling out your neck. 

“Ya need rest,” he said, trying to offer some comfort, but you didn’t want it or need it. Daryl was also not the cuddly kind of person at the moment. 

“I need to find him, I need to find Beta,” you said. Daryl narrowed his eyes, confused. 

“I’m not sure that’s a great idea,” he said, remembering his own fight with Alpha’s second in command. 

“I think it is,” you said with defiance. “Beta threatened me; he put his hands on me and I am not going to let him breathe any longer than he has to.”

“He threatened all of us,” Daryl said, but you shook your head. 

“This was...different. The way he looked at me that night, it was as if he was challenging me to try something. He reminded me of the Governor. Beta has that twistedness inside of him, I could practically smell it.”

“He threw me around like I was nothing,” Daryl reminded you.

“Well, I’m not you, am I?” you said, facing him. “Beta dies by my hand even if I have to build my own damn rifle and take the shot.” 

“Revenge doesn’t look good on you,” he said. 

“It’s not revenge, it’s inevitably,” you clarified. Daryl sighed, but he could tell that you set in your ways about this. 

“I’m sorry I was right about Negan,” Daryl said after a moment. 

“You weren’t,” you disagreed. 

“Come on…” he said with a knowing look. 

“You don’t know him, Daryl, I do, and I know that he had a reason. He wouldn’t have left me if he didn’t.”

“You don’t know that,” he challenged. 

“I do,” you said. “I know him more than I know myself. I don’t know why he’s gone, but I don’t think he just left to get away from Alexandria. With Negan, there’s always a fucking reason. That’s what makes him… him.”

“Don’t hold onto hope, (Y/N),” Daryl said. Looking at him, you shrugged.

“Right now, that’s all I got.”

------

The outside felt different this time for Negan. 

The last time he had gotten out of his cell, it was on a whim. Now, he had a direction and a purpose and he was going to damn well fulfil it this time. If he didn’t, you were definitely going to hate him forever.

Leaving you had been the hardest thing he’s done since he’s been locked up. However, when Carol stepped out of the darkness with her offer, he saw something that he had only seen in you. 

Possibility. 

Killing Alpha ensured the survival of Alexandria, Hilltop, and Oceanside and while all of those people couldn’t care less about Negan, there were a few that did and that made a difference. You, Judith, Lydia, and all the kids would be safe. Carol would have revenge for her son’s murder too. While Negan knew he wasn’t going to be winning any popularity contests with these people, he owed them, whether they cared or not. 

However, while he was doing it for them, he was also doing it for himself. He needed to know if he was worthy of being the hero, rather than just the sucker. 

It wasn’t just you that Negan was thinking about though, he was also thinking about Lucille. His late wife was the only other person who knew him as well as you did. Lucille saw the man that he could have become but never did due to his own faults. Negan had been a horrible husband to her, but he was willing to do better this time. 

In no way were you a do-over, but he did see the relationship that he had with you as a chance to finally be the man Lucille knew he could be. He just hoped that you would not end up hating him as Lucille did. He didn’t think he’d be able to handle losing you, not after everything he had done and lost to find you. 

Still, there was still that fear in his gut that he would not succeed on this mission. Alpha could take one look at him and take his head as she had with the others months before. That thought scared him, but he didn’t fear death, he feared leaving you behind without an explanation. Negan was ready if it came down to it and as much as he knew it would pain you, he needed to take the risks. 

“‘To die will be an awfully big adventure’,” Negan quoted as he turned his face to the sun. You had found an old battered copy of Peter Pan not that long ago. You had spent nights in his cell reading him passages from the classic and now Barrie’s words were ringing true. With a sigh, Negan continued on through the woods, trying to formulate his plan. 

Just as he turned down a small hill, however, a voice stopped him.

“Gotcha!” a male voice said and Negan froze, swearing under his breath. Raising his hands, he was ready to take the person down and run if he had to. “Don't try anything,” the man said before he began to laugh. Confused, Negan turned and who he saw made him drop his hands. 

“You gotta be fuckin’ kiddin’ me,” Negan muttered, “Brandon?”

The young guard from Alexandria, who was carrying a backpack, smiled at Negan. “The look on your face! Dude, seriously, I'm just messin' with you!” he said.

“What are you doin’?” Negan asked, but Brandon was still talking. 

“You're fast. Took me forever to catch up,” Brandon said. “So, prison break part two, huh?” Negan rolled his eyes and turned away from the kid, continuing on his way, but of course, Brandon followed.

---------

“My dad, he used to tell me how, like, you and the Saviors would, like, whistle back and forth before,” Brandon said as he kept pace with Negan who was trying very hard not to slap him silly.

“That was a long time ago,” Negan said with a huff. 

“I mean, not that long ago though, right?” Brandon tried as Negan didn’t bother with an answer.

“You, uh you say you had some granola or some shit?” Negan asked. Brandon quickly began rustling through his bag, eager to please. 

“Sorry about the raisins and the busted knife. Was kinda in a rush when I packed it all,” Brandon said as he handed Negan some food and the weapon he had brought from Alexandria. 

“It’s fine,” Negan said, waving him off. 

“So, you're really not gonna tell me how you got outta that cell?” Brandon asked, but Negan stayed quiet, not giving the kid an inch. You really didn’t like Brandon and Negan was starting to see why. Sure, he was annoying, but Negan already knew that. Now he was starting to see him as who he really was, a leech. 

“Alright,” Brandon continued, “well, at least tell me what we're lookin' for.”

“Someplace safe,” Negan said. Carol had given him freedom, but the plan was completely up to him. Considering how his day went after the first time he got out, he was getting a bit nervous. 

“I get it. A new Sanctuary,” said Brandon. “Damn, how badass was that place? And then, Rick Grimes comes along, talk about hypocrisy, kills our parents, drags us to Alexandria, lectures us about community.”

“Grimes was a good man,” Negan commented, not allowing the kid to tarnish Rick’s name. No matter what they thought of each other, Rick deserved respect. 

“I guess,’ Brandon shrugged. “Man, I heard you made him cut his own kid's hand off, then you killed them,” he said and Negan froze. “You know, Carl Grimes, I heard you shot him.” 

Negan whirled on the kid, shoving him against a nearby tree. “I never did that,” Negan sneered. “I don’t give a shit about what kind of fucked up rumors you’ve heard. Carl was... I would never kill a kid.”

Brandon was staring up at Negan and the latter was glad to see a bit of fear in the kid’s eyes. People could hate on him all they wanted, but the Grimes family were good people, are good people, and he respected them too much to listen to any slander. 

Especially about Carl. 

“Yeah, no, definitely. I'm with you, obviously. We're both Negan,” Brandon said and Negan felt sick. They walked on once Negan let him go, but Brandon was still pushing. “Did you talk to (Y/N) before you left?”

“Excuse me?” Negan asked, looking over his shoulder at the kid. 

“I just mean, do they know why you left?”

“I’m not seeing how that’s any of your business, kid,” Negan snapped. Brandon fell quiet then but soon spoke up when the two men came across an odd sight. 

“Who would do this?” Brandon asked as he looked down at the makeshift fence. Wrapped in barbed wire, wooden posts acted as a barrier and Negan immediately knew what it meant.

“Whisperers,” Negan said. 

“Damn. Should we cross? The enemy of my enemy is my friend?” Brandon offered. 

“No,” Negan said but made a point to remember the location. “We’re not equipped to deal with them.”

“They’re just people.”

“People who can blend in with the Dead,” Negan pointed out. “I’m not sure we can consider them human at his point.”

“Right, like that Lydia chick,” Brandon snipped and before Negan could go off on him, Walkers converged on them. Brandon slid to the side as the Dead fell upon Negan. The weight of the Walkers nearly brought him down, but Negan was able to eventually overpower them.

Once the Dead were finally down, Negan turned to Brandon and he was pissed. “What the hell!” he said. 

“Sorry, sorry, I was just getting your gift ready,” Brandon said as he showed Negan what was in his hand. Negan straightened up as he saw the baseball bat. A bat that was freshly wrapped in the wire of Alpha’s border. “I also got this,” Brandon said as he pulled out a leather jacket. “Found it in the back of an old storage garage. My dad said he never saw you without it.”

Suddenly, Negan got an idea. Before Rick locked him up, he was good at a lot, but the best thing was charming his way into places. However, that charm had disappeared after the many years locked away. Now, looking at the jacket and the new bat, Negan finally realized what he would need to do to get to Alpha. 

He would have to become the Negan everyone once feared. Although, not just yet. 

“Listen,” Negan said, “uh why don't you just put that in your backpack? I don't wanna be recognized.” 

“You like it, though, right?” Brandon asked, sounding like a damn groupie. 

“More than you know.”

———-

Negan and Brandon kept moving. 

“Did anyone see you leave?” Negan asked, not wanting Aaron or Daryl to be tracking them. That was the last thing Negan needed. 

“Nah,” Brandon said, “but the bitch with the baby did see me come out of my house. Not sure she cares.”

“Her name is Rosita,” Negan corrected, surprising himself. Since the blizzard, he had been thinking about Miss Espinosa. Rosita had as much reason to hate Negan as Maggie did, but Negan began to think that perhaps the new mother was just as tired of being outwardly hostile as he was. 

“Right,” said Brandon. “Sorry man, I thought you didn’t like her.”

“No, she doesn’t like me, there’s a difference,” Negan said. 

“Is there?” 

“I only had problems with a few of those people. Rosita was not one of them.”

“I heard a story that she shot at you,” Brandon said and Negan snorted at the memory. 

“That she did,” Negan said. “Though, I did murder someone in front of her so I guess I deserved it.” 

“And now she’s with a priest. Weird.”

“Gabe is alright,” Negan said. In fact, besides you and Lydia, Gabriel was the closest thing he had to a friend. He had thought he was making headway with Aaron, but he could never get a proper read on that man. 

In fact, there was one person whom he actually did want to properly speak to and that was Ezekiel. There was something about the king that made him incredibly curious. However, after the death of his son, Negan didn’t even know what he would say to him.

You had always said that Ezekiel was a good man and a fair one. Negan began to wonder what the tiger-wrangler would have done with him if it had been up to him and not Rick. Those thoughts were interrupted when he and Brandon heard screaming. 

“Sounds like a girl,” Brandon said. 

“And a kid,” Negan said as he heard the second yell. Negan took off towards the sound, anxious to find the source. It didn’t take long for him to find it. An abandoned bus stood broken down in an old lot. Inside, he could hear screams of panic and the unmistakable groans of Walkers. 

Negan didn’t hesitate to run towards the bus, hauling himself up the steps of the old vehicle. In the back, a woman cowered before the Walker as a young boy hid with her. Negan headed straight down the aisle, grabbing the creature by its shoulders. The rotting jaw snapped at its new attacker, but Negan was stronger. Throwing it towards the open back door, Negan slammed it to the floor and used the accordion door to smash its brains to bits. 

The shouts of alarm were replaced by heavy breathing and then small sobs as the woman clutched at her child. “Thank you,” she cried, “thank you.” Negan, who was breathing heavily nodded to her, offering her a squeeze on the arm that she reached towards him. Amongst the gratitude, Brandon was celebrating Negan’s gory display. 

Once Negan was able to get the mother and her son calm and situated, he pulled Brandon aside. 

“So, what’s the plan here, boss?” Brandon asked. 

“What are you talking about?”

“Rob them? Take their shit and go, right?” Brandon offered. 

“It’s a mother and child,” Negan reminded him “Fuck kid, you really think that I’m going to hurt them?”

“I mean… that’s what you do,” Brandon said. 

“What I do is none of your goddamn business,” Negan said, stepping into his face again. “You know what, this isn’t exactly workin’ out, is it? I think you need to get lost, find your own damn celebrity so you can lick their fucking boots. I’m done.”

“I can’t just go home, they’ll know I helped you!” Brandon said, stopping Negan before he could leave him behind. 

“Then don’t go home,” Negan said. “You’re free, kid, go wherever the fuck you want.” 

“I thought I was helping you,” he said. 

“No, you’re not. I got my own shit to do and I can’t play babysitter. Do us both a favor and get the hell out of here,” Negan said before turning his back on the teen. Brandon hesitated for a few moments before hiking his bag up on his shoulders and walking away. Negan didn’t relax until his form disappeared into the surrounding brush. 

After Brandon had gone, Negan went to speak with the mother, helping her get comfortable as her son was in view just outside the bus. “Ya alright?” he asked. 

“Better now,” she said.

“How long have you been out here? You got people?” 

“It was just Milo and me. We'd been walking for days, weeks, until the hissers ran through our camp, scattered everyone to the winds. After that, we went back to what it was before, what it always is in the end, Milo and me, moving from place to place, surviving,” she said. 

“I’ve been there,” Negan said. “The wandering is the worst part.”

“How did you stop? The wandering,” she clarified. 

“That is a long story, but I did end up in a place that’s not too far from here. You and your boy seem like good people and if I know them, which I do, then they will help you,” Negan said. 

“Why would they?” she asked. 

“Because,” Negan said, “they’re the kind of people that save people.”

--------

Negan found Milo not that long after. 

“Hey,” he said, joining the kid. Milo looked at him with worry, but Negan offered his hands in a placating gesture. “Don't worry, kid. I don't bite. Your mom, she's inside, packin', so we got a little bit of time to kill,” Negan said. 

“Where'd Brandon go?” Milo asked, looking around. 

“Brandon, he went looking for supplies,” Negan said and then sighed, not liking the taste of lies on his tongue. “You know what? I'm gonna be real with you. Uh, I told Brandon to get lost. You see, uh, it turns out, not the best co-pilot, if you catch my drift.” Milo looked at him in confusion. “You don't catch my drift at all, do ya?”

“Not really,” Milo admitted. 

“You've never been on a plane, huh?” Negan asked and Milo shook his head again. “Aw, man, it's alright. It's not your fault that God turned this world into an asspit before you were born. Alright. Picture this, alright? Sitting on a plane, really nice, comfy seats, but it feels like you've been sitting on the runway for Goddamn ever. Suddenly, there's this kinda rumbling, a groan, alright? The plane finally starts to creep along, right, and now we're moving faster and faster. And you look out that window, and everything's turning into a blur. And then, Whew. Wheels come up off the ground. You are flying,” he said with a smile. 

“Like birds?” Milo asked. 

“Hell yeah like birds,” Negan said. “Up and up and up, higher and higher, until it feels like you are floating on top of the frickin' world. And you're looking out that little window, and you can see houses. They look like little toy houses and little toy cars.”

“Sounds scary,” Milo said. 

“No scarier than the hissers,” Negan said, using the nickname Milo’s mom had used. “I hope you’ll be able to experience it someday.” 

“Me too,” Milo said. Negan smiled down at the kid, reaching over to ruffle his hair. “Do you have kids?” 

“I don’t,” Negan said. “Though I do know a few and they are just as badass as you.”

“Are you married?” Milo asked, still curious.

“Not anymore,” Negan said, looking out over the dying world. “Though, I do have someone. Their name is (Y/N).”

“Where are they?” 

“Someplace safe,” Negan said. 

“Why aren’t you with them?”

“I gotta do something,” Negan explained. “Fix some things.”

“I get that,” Milo said, reaching over to pat Negan on the back, causing the latter to laugh.

“What is with you kids in this new world, you’re all so damn wise,” Negan said as he thought about Judith particularly. “Look, I told your mom about a place I know. They’ll help you and get you some food. They’re good people.”

“Are they your people?”

“A few are,” Negan said. “You’re gonna be okay, kid.” 

“Thank you for saving me and my mom,” Milo said and Negan smiled at him. 

“You are welcome, but if I don’t go and find some firewood, all three of us are gonna freeze tonight. Take care of your mom until I get back?” 

“I will,” Milo said. 

“Good man,” Negan teased as he got up and headed into the woods to hopefully find some warmth for the night.

------

Negan walked, grabbing wood as he found it, but it was taking too long and he needed to get back to Milo and his mother. 

As Negan began the trek back to the bus, a Walker shuffled out of the trees. Pulling the old knife that Brandon had given him, he let the Walker approach him. “You bastards just get more ugly by the day,” Negan grunted as it grabbed for him. Negan kicked out its legs and shoved his blade in the rotting skull. Kneeling down, Negan searched the Dead woman’s coat. He was hoping to find a lighter or matches, but what he found instead made him laugh. 

Inside her coat pocket was a broken hatchet. It looked as if she had hit something too hard with it and broke the handle. However, the blade was still intact and Negan could see dried blood in the etching. Holding the hatchet, he began to think about another hatchet-wielding maniac he once tousled with. 

“Look at me, Rick,” Negan said to the empty woods, “I’m trying to be the fuckin’ hero. If Carl could see me now…” Negan left the broken weapon behind as he hauled his firewood back into his arms and headed back to the kid and his mom. 

Negan walked with steady steps, ready to finally get some rest. However, as he approached the lot, something felt wrong. It was too quiet and as Negan turned the corner, the wood in his arms crashed to the ground. 

Laying in pools of their own blood, Milo and his mother were dead, their vacant eyes gazing up at the sky. Standing above them, holding a tire iron, was Brandon. The teen was beaming with pride as he looked at the man before him. Negan, however, was only seeing red as he saw the child’s body crumpled on the floor. 

“That's it, right?” Brandon asked. “You almost had me. Back on the bus, when you kicked me out. Then I remembered, This is Negan. He's always messing with people, keeping 'em in line.” Negan began to stalk towards Brandon, his body moving on its own accord. 

“So I realized there's a test,” Brandon continued. “‘It's gonna get a lot more dangerous from here on out.’ That's what you said to me. You wanted to make sure that I had the balls to do what had to be done. What do you think? I passed, right?” Brandon said with glee as he stared down at his victims. Negan bent over and picked up a large rock, weighing it in his hand as he approached the lunatic. “I am Neg‒” Brandon tried to finish as Negan swung and hit him over the head with the rock. 

Brandon went down hard, blood oozing from his head, but Negan had to finish the job. With a few more hits, the brain was damaged and Brandon was dead with no possibility of returning. The rage that he was feeling was too overwhelming. The mother was bad enough, but a child? Milo was as pure as they came. Brandon hadn’t killed them, he had stolen them and Negan wasn’t going to allow that. 

Blood was splattered on Negan’s clothes and face, but he kept moving. He grabbed Brandon’s bag, pulling out the black leather jacket. Taking it in his hands he admired it for just a moment before sliding it across his broad shoulders. 

The feel of the leather on his back was both familiar and terrifying. However, he knew it was needed and so, he zipped it up the way he used to and from the bag, pulled his new weapon. 

Lucille 2.0.

The menacing weapon felt familiar. She would never be what his original was, but she would do if he was going to pull off the performance of a lifetime. “Takin’ one for a team that would rather see me in a grave. Oh, how things have fuckin’ changed,” Negan said as he swung the bat up to his shoulder as he looked down at his newest victim. 

Negan raised his head, leaned into one of his legs and then headed towards his destination. A destination fenced with barbed wire. 

----------

“Alright, you sorry, rotten sacks of shit! What's a fella gotta do to get eaten around here?” Negan announced as he wandered through the darkness. Waiting until nightfall, Negan had prepared himself for what he was about to do.  

“What's the matter? Huh?” he continued. “Y'all scared of the Big Bad Wolf? Little pig, little pig! Let me in!” he yelled as he moved over the border and into Alpha’s territory, letting his voice travel. “And there you are!” Negan said as he finally noticed the Walkers and in the moonlight, blades appeared in some of their hands. “Oh, I am gonna huff. I am gonna puff. I am gonna blow your house all the way down!” 

Out of the darkness came a large shape and Negan immediately knew who it was. You had described him so much that Negan felt as if he practically knew the asshole. 

Beta. 

“Alright, you big-ass freak,” Negan said as he stared down Alpha’s right hand in the dark. With a deep breath and your face at the forefront of his mind, Negan gripped his new Lucille and grinned. “Here we go.”

TAGS: 

@lucillethings @cameronsails @stark-dreams @amaroho  @thanossexual @yes-sir-hotchner @boom-bunny @delusionalteenagewhispers @scootankle @ritajammer21 @writteriguess @tea-atfive @jennydehavilland @waspyyy @yespleasejayhalstead @hoemadegrace @writingdeadangel @huffledor-able541​ @pulplorrd​ @felicisimor​ 

[emerald-echeveria-plant]

Bro I gotta stop making these ocs 💀

Name: Jeremiah Cassidy Shih

Name pronunciation: jeh-ruh-mai-uh Cas-si-di Sh-ih

Personality: non-talkative, hot-headed, secretive, hides his true emotions, and violent

Age: 15

Species: Human

Sexuality: Unknown

Gender: Male

Pronouns: He/Him

Looks: brown hair, blue eyes, white skin, and freckles

Backstory: (Dis is loooooong) Before getting in his past, we first have to talk about his mother, Anne Larson or as her actual birth name Chenguang Shih. Chenguang was the daughter of the notoriously known unhinged pirate, Baozhai. Baozhai ended up having Chenguang completely by accident after she had a one night stand with one of her crewmates. She decided to keep the baby, wanting to start a long line of pirates like her. Baozhai had the baby girl just around when her torment was finally being taken seriously by the royals. Unfortunately, Baozhai ended up passing away on her boat when a cannon caused it to come crashing down. Luckily, Chenguang was safe as she had been taken by Baozhai's right hand man, Ironbeard with her. He did his best to care for the girl, holding up the legacy his captain would've wanted. Yet, he was a wanted criminal along with the other crewmates that survived the crash, so taking care of her was very difficult. But Ironbeard still pushed through.

Unfortunately, Ironbeard and the other were caught by a couple of guards and locked away. A judge sentenced them to be publicly executed by hanging the next. As for baby Chenguang, she was taken away and raised by the captain of the guards. Her full name being changed to Anne Larson just a few days later. When the day arrived for Ironbeard and the others be hung, the guards were surprise to see that they had escaped during the night. Ironbeard swore revenge for his captain and that he would one day return. As for the baby, he couldn't find her and gave up as the guards were on his tail. He regretted to not have fulfilled Baozhai's wish and those guards were going to pay for what they had done.

As for Anne, she was raised to never know of the events that took place. Her adoptive father, also known as Maxwell Larson, had told her of Baozhai and how she was a psychopathic murder that deserved what she got. So, Anne grew up hating Baozhai despite the fact she was actually hating her own biological mother. As she grew, Anne became educated and sophisticated. She quickly rose up to be one of the smartest students in her class. Getting all A's and being presented with awards for her achievements. Anne was asked to join a university of astronomy which she gladly accepted.

While she was attending, she ended up meeting a handsome young man by the name of Aaron Brown. Aaron was the typical bad boy that would rather get into trouble then be in class. He was charming, funny, and very attractive... Aaron easily charmed Anne which made her fall in love with him. Instead of focusing on her studies, she'd often daydream about him. Anne just couldn't get him out of her head. Eventually, Aaron asked her out and they went on a date. Which spiraled into several dates... Which turned into them dating each other. Anne would often ditch class just to be with him. This caused her to fail her class. Maxwell was angry at her for this. He demanded she'd retake the year and to leave Aaron. Anne was too far in love with him and didn't give into what he wanted.

Instead, Anne ended up dropping out of the university to further pursue her relationship with Aaron. They got married a few months afterwards and left their home planet. Anne decided to work as a weaver as Aaron became a marine. A year into their marriage, it all came crumbling down. Anne became severely depressed as she realized she gave up her dreams of becoming an astrologist. Aaron no longer found her attractive and began to pursuing other women behind her back. They argued a lot more than usual and it began to get physical. Finally the rose tinted glasses came off and they began to see how bad their relationship was. Anne wanted to save their marriage because she couldn't bare the thought being alone. Aaron still wanting the good things that came in a relationship while secretly having side pieces, decided to work with her on their marriage. The two came to a conclusion that having a child would be the best way to solve it.

Six months later, Jeremiah was born. Surprise, surprise, their relationship didn't get any better. Poor Jeremiah was now thrown into the picture of a broken marriage. Aaron became abusive towards Anne and didn't allow her to leave the house without his say. She'd get hurt if he didn't listen to what he said. Jeremiah wasn't safe from his abusive nature also. If the lad dared to bother him, he'd be met with a smack to the face. For five straight years had Anne and Jeremiah endured the abuse of Aaron. Anne finally decided to break from Aaron's abuse when something terrible happened to Jeremiah. One night during a drunken rage, Aaron put his hands on Jeremiah and tore out his left eye with a broken bottle. The event made Anne realize how horrible the situation was getting and it wasn't going to change unless he did something about it.

So during the night, she grabbed whatever she could carry and escaped with Jeremiah. Anne went back to her home planet where asked a place to stay with her adoptive father. Maxwell would've turned her away but when he saw the situation she was very distressed. He quickly let her in, where she explained what happened to her over the course of the years she's been gone for. Maxwell decided he would help her get back on her feet and get her son some needed medical attention. With his connections, Anne was able to earn a job as an assistant for an astrologist. She began to focus on her mental health which got better overtime. The same couldn't be said for Jeremiah. His worsened.

The abuse of his father caused major trauma in him that he wasn't able to get over. He became quiet, easily angered by others, and had thoughts about violence. Since he only had one eye now, he was bullied by the other kids once he was able to go to school. This aggravated him and he'd often get into fights because of it. Anne decided to pull him out of public school and into homeschool because things were getting out of hand. Jeremiah was taken to several doctors to see what was wrong with him. Each time, he refused to say anything. Anne stopped trying to help him since he was refusing to help himself. Yet, he was just a child. A child who wanted help but didn't know how to say it. Maxwell, decided to take over for trying to help him. Or what he thought would help him. He sent Jeremiah to a boot camp where he'd be straightened out for his bad behavior. Jeremiah loathed Maxwell for this and promised himself he'd get revenge. Life at the boot camp was utter hell. He was pushed to limits that caused him to have mental breakdowns in private. Jeremiah didn't have any friends. This caused him to be the target of the bullying of the other boys there. Throughout the torment, he was able to find comfort in the tales of well known pirates. His favorite being of the insane pirate captain Baozhai. Something about her unhinged, eccentric personality and her cruel brutality against others whenever the messed with her, manged put a smile on his face. (Baozhai in an old photo: *tearing someone's guts out.*

Jeremiah: 🙂)

At fourteen years old, Jeremiah made surprising a discovery that he was biological related to Baozhai. He had overheard Maxwell chatting with another guard about how he was glad Anne never grew up knowing that she was related to that maniac. Yet now that Jeremiah knew, he was angry that this knowledge was withheld from him. Why would they do such a thing? He tried telling his mother about this... His mother called him crazy... crazy... crazy...

That was the breaking point for Jeremiah. For a majority of his life, he was told that there was something wrong with him and that he needed help. Often being titled mentally ill or not alright in the head... Despite knowing he was, he was just tired of being treated like one.

Jeremiah ended up running away from his home planet by hiding on a cargo ship. He wanted to start somewhere fresh, where he wouldn't be as well known. He also wanted to know more about Baozhai, since most books didn't have enough information about her having a child, other than speculated rumors. For a while, he traveled around places, in search for more knowledge about his grandmother aka Baozhai. That's when he walked into a small tavern. He tried to figure out where else he could ask about her. An anonymous figure in the corner asked why he was wanted to learn about these things. Jeremiah, in the best way he could, explained that Baozhai was his grandmother. The tavern exploded into laughter after hearing him say that. They mocked him for a bit until the anonymous figure silenced the entire tavern by shooting a random person. They stood up and recounted the tale of Baozhai's fall. How she wanted the death of the upper class to continue. It was originally her plan to make a line of pirates to be like her. Then it was all ruined because of the guards. How he admitted that he failed because he wasn't careful enough... It was Ironbeard recounting all of this. He decided to continue with what she would've wanted... If Jeremiah wanted to join him. Jeremiah quickly took the deal, seeing as there was nothing holding him back now. On the outside, it didn't seem he was all too excited but on the inside, he was thrilled to finally be apart of something... And that he'd get to be just like his idol.

Likes: sharp objects, creepy bugs, reading, drawing, smoking cigars, and cats

Dislikes: his left eye, being told he's crazy, others trying to get close to him, physical affection (even though he sorta wants it), and long conversations

Other: Jeremiah doesn't like being called Jeremy or Jerry or literally any nickname to his name. If someone calls him "Jeremy" he would literally rip out their tonsils.

[writernomore]

Two sides of the same coin.

Alright! So this is how it’s gonna go, I thought of this little somewhat scenario in my head with an Oc of mine, Where she’s like a long lost sister of Harry Potter where there is this prophecy about twins being separated and brought back together when the situation goes dire.

Summary: Y/n Brighton adopted daughter of a Muggle family has been accepted into Hogwarts a school for wizards and witches has lived a peaceful life before going to Hogwarts, all of that changes when she is accepted the same year as the infamous Harry Potter.

How did your life get to this point?

Your wondering Y/n what do you mean?

Well I’ll tell, I was living quite a normal boring life that held the same routine and would only switch up time to time.

It all changed when I had received a letter, It was weird cause my parents were talking about me going to a private school, the schools name was Hogwarts it was really peculiar because I had never heard of it, and so did my parents, so we wrote back hoping to receive an explanation, we asked and we received.

Hogwarts was a school for young wizards and witches being taught magic, I wasn’t buying it but then weird stuff happened to me I when I would be scared or angry.

I then decided to learn what I can, buying books that contained things that I needed to know about magic, famous wizards and witches, and since I was adopted my biological parents were probably magical like me.

Excitedly going to Diagon alley to buy what I needed with my Family alongside with me, fully supporting me, My older brothers calling me cool and asking if I could do cool tricks like the wizards in games and movies did, My little siblings looking up to me and proud for having a witch for a sister.

There was also news that spread really fast through out the wizarding world about the boy who lived, Harry Potter.

Harry Potter, was only a baby when Voldemort or people call him you-know-who but you really didn’t see the point by calling him that, decided to kill Harry and his family, Harry’s parents were murdered but Harry survived but didn’t leave unscathed, He had a lightning shaped scar on his forehead.

I don’t know if that was pure coincidence but you also had a scar in a shape of a star on the side of your neck.

Your Mother had told you before hand to be careful because she heard that Voldemort was only gone for a while and we wouldn’t know when or if he’d come back, so you promised your Mother you would write to her updating your situation in Hogwarts every weekend, knowing you would stay in dorms at school.

Your parents cried when they saw you in your school uniform and robes at  Madam Malkin's Robes, your brothers bothering them if they could try on the uniform to, causing you to giggle.

It was then you were there at King’s cross station, parked at the front and getting your luggage and your owl out of the car with the help of your siblings and Father while Mother carried your new born Baby brother and sister.

You asked as how you were going to get on to platform 9 and 3/4 before hand, You and your whole family running at the wall between platform 9 and 10.

The train was magnificent, after exchanging goodbye’s and kisses your luggage was placed into the train and you were now finding a compartment to sit in, it was all full.

You were passing by a compartment when you heard a familliar name.

“Holy Cricket you must be Harry Potter!” You heard a girls voice.

“I’m Hermione Granger and...you are?”

“Um, Ronald Weasley” “Pleasure”

You shook your head and just continued to walk around finding a place to sit for a while and change into your uniform and robes.

The train had stop meaning you were at the station, going outside seeing a giant bearded man approached the station holding a lamp calling the first years to him, being you who had to behave because her parents weren’t around and clearly not knowing anyone, you obeyed and followed the 8 foot giant.

The travel going to Hogwarts was fascinating travelling by boat with four people each in it.

Then there you stood, getting out of the boat being presented in front of a large castle, Holy.

You were guaranteed you were going to get lost, and this was no mall, this was going to be the school you would be studying in for 7 years, they definitely would be having a map lying around, right? Like the castle was massive! 

The inside was fascinating in itself, It looked so grand ascending at the staircase you were met with a woman with Her hair tide up into a neat bun wearing a green robe and glasses.

She introduces herself to be one of the professors in Hogwarts, Professor Mcgonagall and that we would be sorted into houses that would be like our families, Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin.

She leaves us there for a while when this blonde kid speaks,

“So it’s true what they’re saying in the train, Harry Potter has come to Hogwarts” Others start whispering to each other while you on the other side just wanna get sorted and sleep, standing for a while having an effect on you.

“I’m Malfoy, Draco Malfoy” Ron snorts “You think my name is funny do you? Red Hair, Freckles, and a hand me down robe, you must be a Weasley” Draco said while he looked Ron up and Down “You see some wizarding families are more well off then others, you don’t want to be making friends with the wrong sort” “I think I can tell the wrong sort myself thank you” Draco surprised looked at Harry while other children snickering from behind, While you get Hangry wouldn’t care less.

The Professor Mcgonagall comes back to lead us to the Great hall where there were other students seated at four different tables in different colored robes assuming that’s why they had to sort us in houses.

You opened you eyes and looked up at the ceiling widening in awe on how beautiful it looked, the night sky on the ceiling of the hall, remembering it wasn’t real and that it was made to look like that in A Hogwarts History.

The first years stopped walking and a four legged stool was placed at the front where the teachers and students could see you being sorted into your house, you were not a social lot, or nor you were unsocial you just didn’t like the feeling of many eyes staring at you.

Professor Mcgonagall rolled out a scroll that had a list of names, students were called and seated on the stool and the sorting hat would be sorted into their houses.

Your name was called; Y/n Brighton.

Y/n sat down on the stool and tried to shake off the feeling of eyes watching her when the hat landed on her head and covered her eyes she could finally be sorted into a house and get this thing over with to stop the feeling of everyone's eyes boring into her.

"Ah..Yes.. Difficult very Difficult there's so much potential and a mystery waiting to be solved of your origins.." origins? You thought wondering what the hat meant by that.

"You are cunning, intelligent creative too..you could do pleanty of wonders better it would be.."

The hat stalls for a while deciding what House to sort you in, You just wanted to be sorted into a house any house, you just wanted to get down form there, nothing bad will happen anyways if you were sorted into a unexpected house, "SLYTHERIN!" The sorting hat shouts, the Slytherin table bustling having a new member on their side, the sorting hat was taken off your head and you jumped off the stool and walked to the Slytherin table.

You sat down and were still hanging onto what the sorting hat meant by ‘ a mystery waiting to be solved of your origins’  What did he mean? is it cause I’m adopted?

After the sorting ceremony and a speech we all went to eat, I was waiting for this I was starving the food was good and delicious It was like home.

*-* 

You were completely lost!

It was surely a stupid idea but you just followed the person in front of you, hoping you would get to where you were going.

And as stupid as it may seem it worked? You got to potions class and coincidently sat next to famous Harry Potter.

You got out your book and turned to the page Professor instructed the class to turn to and began discussing.

Next to you Harry was writing down stuff, you put your hand on top of his a signal for him to stop writing, and he did.

He looked up at you confused then you shaked your head and pointed at Snape’s direction, he looked at him and just put his quill down, you retreating your hand to listen in on the lecture.

Let’s just say you saved him one by telling him to stop writing.

It was time for Broom flight class, and boy this was going to be terrifying.

Don’t get me wrong flying brooms sounds cool and all but not when you were afraid of falling of the broom and hitting your head and forgetting who you are and who your family were and-

Okay! No overthinking! Overthinking is bad it restricts you in doing things properly...

There you were skillfully flying on your broom doing loopty loops with some struggles with your grip on the broom, it was like the broom had a mind of it’s own but you were still holding on.

No-one was clearly paying attention cause they were watching Harry getting Neville’s remembrall back.

He got it back, yes, But he was called by Professor Mcgonagall.

You went back down so you wouldn’t be scolded, a kid did complimented your little tricks, you thanked them.

It would be hard to make such an image if you were in the same year as Harry Potter.

So you took the chance of just doing well with your new subjects and learn and understand as much as you can.

Your Y/n Brighton after all!

Or where you?

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

You don’t know how excited I am to do this series I’ve had this idea for a while now and I just want to hope you guys will like this series, yes a series, for how long? I do not know, Have I already thought who would be Y/n’s love interest? Yes and there will be no love interest cause Y/n is an independent queen who always speaks her mind and will never be shut up.

Also I would like to think reader would look like Lily and has red hair but has James eyes, Like Harry looking like his Father but has his Mothers eyes, also I guess I’ll be putting stuff I learnt about when I started reading the Harry Potter books, I haven’t finished but it’s better than not being able to read it yet and I had to make reader be sorted into Slytherin cause #Normalizesiblingsindifferenthouses.

[emachinescat]

Wind + Water - Tree in the Road

A MacGyver Fan-Fiction

by @emachinescat

@febuwhump day 12 / alt. 5 - hostage situation

Summary: AU of 2x21.  The bank robbers make their escape with Mac, but this time there isn’t a tree in the road to slow them down.  The rest of the team arrive at the marina just in time to see the robbers procuring a boat - and they have every intention of taking their hostage with them.

Characters: Mac, Jack, Riley, Bozer, Matty, the robbers from 2x21 (apparently their names are Booth, Pike, Dean and Ash)

Words: 4,129

Note: The Spanish is a mixture of my own adventure learning the language (I’m getting there) and a more advanced translator than Google.  Hopefully there aren’t any mistakes, if so - I apologize to any Spanish speakers.

Keep reading here, or on AO3!

If you enjoy, please consider liking, commenting, or re-blogging, and you can follow me for more content like this! :)

“So, for the record, this wasn’t part of the deal,” Angus MacGyver informed his captors testily as he carefully steered the stolen Chevrolet down the narrow, debris strewn backroad toward San Juan Marina and Boat Rentals.  Even though his eyes were on the road, he kept the gun pointed at him in his peripheral vision.  He felt the eyes of the four bank robbers on him, so he continued, very aware that no appeal to logic or conscience that he made at this point would have any effect, largely because these men had depleted stores of both.  Plus, they were desperate.  “I said I’d get you out with the money if you left all the hostages behind,” he continued, then added pointedly, “All including me.”  

One of the three robbers in the backseat, Pike, leaned forward to give their hostage a hearty slap on the back, which sent waves of agony shooting through his battered body.  Mac’s sides, stomach, and back felt every kick and weighted punch, and his mouth tasted like blood.  “Guess you shoulda been more specific,” he taunted, and Mac glanced back long enough to see the amusement on the man’s face.

“Honestly,” said the leader – his followers had called him Booth – “After giving us a glimpse of what you’re capable of, you really think we’d just let you go?”  His tone made it clear that it wouldn’t have mattered if Mac had drawn out and made them sign an extensive contract expressly stating that he was to be left behind with the other hostages, nothing about his predicament would have changed.  He’d gotten them out of a seemingly impossible situation, he’d made himself a valuable asset, and if there was one thing Mac understood about desperate people, it was that once they had something they saw as an advantage, they would never let it go.

The realization left a distinctly sour feeling in Mac’s stomach. He’d been seen and used as a tool before – in the army, he was a bomb defuser; for Phoenix, he was a kind of real-life troubleshooter.  But even in the army, he’d still been a person whose life mattered.  And now, he knew he was valued for so much more than just his skill set by his friends.  

Here, though, with these four men who looked at him with a kind of contemptuous greed in their eyes, he was nothing but a tool, something to be used to their advantage, over and over, until his usefulness had run out, and then he would be discarded like a broken drill bit.  To Booth, Pike, and the others, Mac was less than human, and it made him feel dirty and used and caused his chest to tighten anxiously despite his cool demeanor.  He knew he had to find a way to get away, and soon.  Otherwise, one of two equally unfortunate things was going to happen to him: Either he would be used to bargain their way off the island and then, as soon as they were safely away, he’d be shot and tossed overboard, or they would decide to keep and use him, and his life would become a living hell.  Neither option was a possibility that Mac was willing to entertain, so he would keep his eyes out for the first chance of escape.  

Noting once again the scattering of wreckage in and lining the road, Mac found himself hoping for a large piece of debris – perhaps a fallen tree or power line – would end up in their path.  If they ended up having to get out of the car for any reason, that might give him the chance to plan an escape.  Until then, with the five of them in such close quarters, with all but Mac armed, it was too risky to try anything.  He’d wait for his opportunity, and then make his move.

***

Mac’s opportunity for escape never came, and as he reluctantly directed the vehicle into the marina, the knot it his stomach had imploded into a cavernous pit.  Real tendrils of fear radiated through him, and a furious sense of injustice made his knuckles white and his fingers cramp from the grip he maintained on the steering wheel.  Normally when he was out in the field and in a risky situation, he’d end up finding what he needed to make an escape or at the very least to put a significant hitch in the bad guy’s plan.  It was something he’d come to take for granted, he realized, this bit of luck, that he always had something to work with.  This time, he hadn’t been asking for much – just a piece of debris, a block in the road, on an island ravaged by a natural disaster!  Something should have stood in their way.  The statistical probability of the road being blocked at some point in the twenty-minute drive – especially considering the situation in Puerto Rico – was incredibly high.  He’d counted on that blockage.

And while there had been a couple of branches scattered in their path, none were large enough to hold them up for long at all, and at no point had Mac been allowed out of the car.  In the back of his mind, he remembered what Matty had said to him when she had first taken over.  She didn’t want to be there when Mac’s luck ran out.  He’d been quick to assure her that it wasn’t luck, that he was good at what he did, but now he had his doubts.  If he wasn’t given anything to work with at all, how was he supposed to do what he was so good at?

Still, Angus MacGyver had never been one to give up, and he continued to keep his eyes peeled for anything at all he might be able to use to his advantage.  Even if he couldn’t escape here and now, he would find a way to survive and get back to his friends.  He always did.  

“Stop here.”

Mac did as he was told, putting the car in park and waiting for further instructions.  The gun was still trained on him, and he knew that none of his other captors would hesitate to put a bullet in him from behind if he made one move they didn’t like.  “Dean, grab the kid,” Booth snapped, and the youngest of the robbers, the one who had been gearing up to kill all of the hostages and who couldn’t be any older than Mac himself, got out of the car, went around to Mac’s door, pulled the hostage out of the seat and shoved him forward.  Mac forced himself not to fight back, because Dean’s gun was now pressed into the small of his back, and his voice was deadly as he ordered, “Move.”

The marina was fairly deserted, which would have been odd any other time, but it was midday and most people were either already out on the water or further inland, helping with cleanup and rebuilding.  The only person in sight was the young woman working boat rentals.  She had an open, kind face with eyes that had seen their fair share of suffering – it was a look Mac had seen in Carlos’s more vulnerable moments, and in the eyes of everyone he’d met while on the island.

“Hola,” she greeted, a bit flustered at the new arrivals.  “¿Te puedo ayudar?”  Mac thought that she probably didn’t see a lot of business nowadays.  Tourists were the ones who rented boats more often than not – the locals usually had their own – and tourism had plummeted since the hurricane.  Mac noticed that the bank robbers had hidden their weapons, other than the one at Mac’s back, and to the girl it must have looked like Mac and Dean were just walking close together, side by side.  Maybe she thought they were a couple.  Mac made sure his face was neutral, not wanting to give anything away and put this poor girl in danger.  If only the marina had been deserted, with no one else in the crosshairs!  

“Do I look like I speak Spanish?” Booth snapped impatiently.  

The girl blinked, eyes wide, taken aback by the rudeness.  “I – I’m sorry,” she stammered in heavily accented English.  Mac’s heart went out to her even as he felt his revulsion for his captors grow.  It literally would have expended the same amount of energy to treat the girl with an ounce of respect.  These men were assholes just because they could be. 

“We need a boat,” Booth ordered briskly.  “Now.”

“Bien – ah, okay.”  She looked scared that her accidental slip was going to get her yelled at again.  “Our skippers are not on site at the moment, and most of our boats are being repaired.  We do have one –”

“We’ll take it,” Booth growled, and the girl flinched back at the harshness of his tone.  Tears forming in her eyes, she glanced around briefly at the other men in the party, her eyes landing on Mac last.  He offered her a sympathetic half-smile, knowing that the girl – Mia, her name tag said – was probably having her worst day on the job yet.  At least she didn’t know the true colors of the difficult customers she was dealing with.  

As if worried Mac was trying to tip Mia off, Dean tightened his grip on Mac’s arm and rammed the barrel of the gun painfully into his back.  Mac didn’t react other than to break eye contact with their hostess, who abruptly got back to her task.  “Do you have a boating license that I can see?”  Her dark eyes plainly showed she was afraid of the answer – afraid of what would happen if they did not have the proper documentation and she had to tell them no.

“I don’t have a damn license,” Booth answered, impatience rising with his voice.  

“Lo siento – I’m sorry, you can’t rent a boat without a skipper if you don’t have a license.”  At the fury on her tormentors’ faces, her eyes darted desperately to Mac, as if she had sensed he wasn’t like the others and would step out and ask his friends to give it a rest.  Not wanting to risk her life, Mac felt guilt rise in him as he pointedly avoided her gaze.  Her voice thick with emotion, she regrouped and offered, “But I can call and have someone here within the hour to take you out.”

Booth lost his temper completely.  Slamming his fist down on the counter, he leaned over the cowering girl and hissed in a deadly tone that brooked no argument, “You will get us a boat now.”  Mia stood frozen in shock, and Booth glanced back over his shoulder at his three men and their hostage.  Collectively, they came to a silent agreement – obviously, the subtle approach wasn’t working, and they were running out of time.  With deft movement, so seamless it could have been rehearsed, Dean let go of Mac’s arm and shoved him into Booth, who twisted his greedy, filthy hand in Mac’s hair for the second time that day.  Mac grunted in pain as his head was yanked back and stilled his instinctive struggling as the sun-warmed barrel of Booth’s gun found the left carotid artery in Mac’s neck.  “If you don’t,” Booth added grimly, “I’m going to kill him right before your eyes.”  

Mia’s eyes darted to Mac’s once more and he saw the barely controlled terror just beneath the surface.  She hesitated, and the gun jabbed deeper into Mac’s neck as the safety clicked off, and Mac fought the urge to squeeze his eyes shut as his heart jumped into overdrive.  “You’ll be scrubbing his blood off this dock for the next year,” Booth promised, “and you’ll never get it off your pretty little hands.”

Mac thought for a terrifying moment that Mia was going to pass out or break down, as she swayed slightly on the spot, but then she steeled herself, an inner strength that Mac was proud to see flowing into her.  She straightened her spine, offered a small, scared smile that was probably meant to be reassuring at Mac, and nodded curtly.  “Okay,” she said in a thin voice, and it barely shook, though her hand did as she reached for a set of keys hanging on the wall behind her.  “Just… don’t hurt him, please.”

As she slowly moved away from the wooden counter and motioned for the men to follow her along the dock to their new vessel, Booth yanked Mac’s head back fiercely and whispered, “I knew you would come in handy in some way,” and then shoved Mac forward, finally releasing his hair – Mac’s scalp ached and his neck had already developed a painful stiffness from being twisted back in such an uncomfortable position. The gun moved to the back of Mac’s head.  The safety remained off.

Everything moved far too quickly after that.  It seemed that no time had passed until Mac was being forced onto the deck of a small craft barely big enough for the five of them.  Mac graciously offered to stay behind, and received a crack to the back of the head with the pistol butt in response.  At some point, one of the robbers – Ash, Mac thought his name was – had stepped in and tied Mac’s hands behind his back with sturdy nautical rope.  Mac hadn’t had a single opportunity to attempt escape throughout the whole process, as not only was Booth’s gun still at the base of his neck, but Pike’s own weapon was on the helpless Mia who stood on the dock, tears streaming down her face as she watched the men prepare to leave with their hostage.  Mac knew that if he even thought about doing something stupid, she would be killed without a second thought.

And then many things happened at once – a battered orange car swerved into the parking lot, the sound of screaming sirens not far behind.  Mac couldn’t help but grin when he saw who jumped out: his team, Riley, Bozer, and Jack – who had death in his eyes.  Mac had seen that look many times before.  Someone had threatened his partner.  Mac didn’t envy Booth and his goons once Jack Wyatt Dalton got his hands on them.

Jack already had his own gun drawn as he raced onto the dock.  His boots thunked hollowly against the boards as he sprinted for the boat, keen sights already on the bastard who had his paws on his kid.

But Booth had all the power here, with Mac in his clutches, and he knew it. And with the innocent civilian being held at gunpoint, he’d doubly covered his ass.  Mac’s hope at seeing his team faltered when he realized that Jack’s being here really didn’t change a thing.  It would just make this so much worse, because Jack would be forced to watch as Mac was taken, and when he could finally chase after them, it would probably be too late.  As if to solidify this knowledge, Mac felt Booth’s hand twine in his hair, again – what was it with this guy and Mac’s hair, anyway? – and the gun was back beneath his jaw, Mac could feel the artery rapidly pulsing against the unyielding metal.

“You make one more step, and Boy Wonder here dies,” Booth shouted right in Mac’s ear.  Mac locked eyes with Jack, who stuttered obediently to a stop, Riley and Bozer following suit.  Even now, Mac knew that his partner was desperately searching for any opening, any shot he could take to save his friend.

“I’d put that gun down, if I were you,” Ash called out.

Jack glared at him, unrelenting.  “Who invited Papa Smurf to the party?” he joked, but Mac clearly saw the anxiety in every line on his face.  

A shot rang out.  Mia screamed.  A smoking hole had appeared inches from her feet: The bullet had buried itself into the planks.  “He said,” Booth repeated, “put down your gun.”  He punctuated his words with a brutal yank of Mac’s hair.  “Next time, I put a bullet in your friend. No more warnings.”

Loathing poured off of Jack in waves, but he did as he was told and lowered the weapon, though he didn’t put it down.  The sirens drew nearer, and Mac knew his captors were going to have to make their move before the police arrived, or things would get even messier.  “Ash, start the damn boat,” Booth ordered.  

The man did as he was told, inserting the key, and the engine spluttered, coughed, and fell silent.  He tried again.  Nothing.

“What the hell, man?” Dean barked, an edge of panic creeping into his voice.  

“I’m trying!” Ash shot back, making another attempt to start the motor.  

For a split second, Mac felt Booth twist behind him, trying to get a look at what was going on, and in that moment, Pike was distracted as well.  Just one look away from their hostages was all that Mac and Jack needed – maybe the universe was looking out for them, after all.  While Booth was distracted, both his grip on Mac and on the gun momentarily slackened, and Mac inched over and made himself as small as possible to give Jack a better shot at the man behind him.  The gun was far too close to his face for Mac to lash out himself; now was a time to stand aside and let Jack do what he did best.

In the span of five seconds, Jack brought his gun back up and shot both Pike and Booth in quick succession.  He hit Pike first in the gun hand, and the man toppled over the side of the boat, howling in agony.  Booth’s bullet too had been perfectly timed and aimed – it hit him in the side of the head as he turned back around to deal with his hostage.  He dropped, the gun clattering from his hand, dead before he hit the ground.  It had been a tight shot, and quite the gamble considering the gun that had still been at Mac’s throat, but Jack had timed it perfectly, and Mac never doubted him once. 

***

The next half hour was a blur of police sirens – “‘Bout time you got here,” Jack griped testily – painful but welcome hugs from his friends, and a collective promise of painkillers, a four-way lecture, a hasty debrief, and much-needed rest, in that exact order, on their flight to their next op.  

Jack had been livid, insisting that Mac needed more than on-the-go treatment, but Matty was firm – this op couldn’t wait.  Her fierce eyes did soften when she got a good look at the state that her agent was in, though, and assured him that he was getting a thorough check by medical the second they got home.  Until then, she ordered, with no room for argument, he was to rest and recuperate, and so help her God, if he purposefully threw himself into this kind of mess again.... She didn’t actually finish her threat, which made it all the scarier, and Mac had promised to be good on the next mission.  (Nobody really believed him, though.)

Secretly, though, he was glad that he would get a chance to rest on the flight, because every single bruise, cut, ache, and pain called out, vying for his attention.  A cursory check by Jack and a frazzled EMT revealed that though no ribs were broken, he had severe bruising along his back, sides, and torso.  Booth had chipped a tooth when he’d kicked Mac in the mouth, and Mac did not look forward to spending some quality time with the dentist when he got home.  And there was a nasty, bloody welt on the back of his head from where he’d been pistol-whipped.  

Added to that, his entire body, from his scalp to the tips of his toes ached with a bone-deep weariness that came from the physical abuse and stress of his time as a hostage.  As Jack had reminded him on more than one occasion when Mac had tried to brush similar experiences off, just because it wasn’t his first rodeo, it didn’t make it any less traumatic for his mind or his body – he was still human, after all.  Now, Mac found himself reluctantly agreeing – emotionally, mentally, and physically, he felt in that moment every single thing that had been done to him from the second he’d snuck into that bank.

As usual, though, Mac filed away everything he was feeling to deal with – or even more appealingly, to not deal with – later.  

While Matty finalized the details of their flight, Mac tied up a few loose ends of his own.  First, he called Carlos and spoke to him for a few moments, reassuring his friend that he was really okay and getting the same reassurances in return.  Mac wanted to see Carlos and his family one more time before they took off, but Carlos was just now being released from the hospital, and the Phoenix team was on a very tight schedule.  He did promise to come back and visit soon, and was able to reveal the exciting news that Matty was sending another team in their place, to continue to help with rebuilding.

Next, Mac made his way over to Mia, who was sitting on the edge of an ambulance, her sandaled feet dangling off the side and a bottle of water cradled in her hands.  “Hola,” Mac greeted, and she offered him a small smile.  Mac realized that she was even younger than he’d thought – she couldn’t be more than eighteen or nineteen years old.  “I’m, uh, really sorry about everything,” he stammered, feeling that his words were thoroughly inadequate.

“You have nothing to apologize for!” she exclaimed, dark eyebrows furrowing over kind hazel eyes.  

Mac didn’t agree – as always, that incessant feeling that he could have done more reared its ugly head – but he changed the subject anyway, because Riley and Bozer were approaching, and he knew his time was running short.  “Quiero darte las gracias.” It was important to him that he thanked her in her own language, after the way Booth had treated it.  She deserved better.

She tilted her head, dark brown ponytail swinging with the motion, but a soft smile touched her lips at his fluent but accented Spanish.  “¿Para qué?”

Unable to call the exact words to mind in Spanish, courtesy, he knew, of the light concussion he almost certainly had, he switched back to English apologetically, but Mia didn’t seem to mind at all.  “That was a risky play,” he admitted, “giving them the keys to a boat that didn’t work.  But it was brilliant – and it bought my friend enough time to take control of the situation.  Great job thinking ahead.  You saved my life.”

A brilliant blush colored her cheeks at Mac’s praise.

***

Twenty minutes and a couple of painkillers later, Mac found himself curled up in his seat on the Phoenix jet waiting for the inevitable lecture to start.  He know it had been a stupid and dangerous risk, sneaking into the bank and making himself a hostage.  But he knew that his actions had saved lives, and he would make the same choice if anything like it happened again. 

Jack dropped down into the seat beside him.  “You look like hell, brother,” he observed.  Jack Dalton didn’t sugar coat anything.

“Yeah, well,” Mac admitted, too tired to put up his normal unaffected front.  “Feel like it too.”

The lines around Jack’s eyes deepened.  “The kids are already settling in for the flight,” he said.  “Get some sleep?”

“I thought you guys had a lecture all primed and ready,” Mac muttered, already feeling his eyelids dragging themselves down.  He was exhausted, from everything he’d been through, the pain, and the drugs.  

“Aaah,” Jack waved his hand dismissively.  “What’s the point of lecturin’ you if you’re too strung out to actually hear what we’re trying to drill into that big brain of yours?”

Mac quirked a half-smile.  “Or you could just skip the lecture all together.  You know that you would’ve done the exact same thing in my shoes.”

Jack shrugged.  “Maybe, but tryin’ to get you to look after yourself has become a kind of bonding thing for the rest of us.  And it’s fun seeing you squirm.”

Mac groaned.  “You know I never listen.”

A long-suffering sigh.  “And that’s why my hair’s going gray, hoss.”

Letting his eyes fall shut, Mac couldn’t help but squeeze in one last, murmured jab.  “No, it’s definitely an age thing.”

Mac didn’t hear Jack’s indigent retort, or the quiet cackling of Riley and Bozer from the seats behind.  

He was already asleep.

[blackfemmecharacterdependency]

1. Red Tape and Red Lines

Nanefua lived before what they now call “The Fall.” She used to tell stories of green fields for miles and miles. Of trees that grew all sorts of fruits - each fruit from a different tree. Vegetables from the earth. Creatures that we see in picture books that used to live in the sea, and even roam the Earth. She would say, “But, that was a long time ago,” and top it all off with a sweet chuckle and a very inspiring, “And with the right leaders, it may be ahead of us again still.” 

She believed in a future where society could exist again, for all. She dreamed of a world where we all had what we needed to survive, as well as things that we wanted - pleasures of the world to grant us some happiness while we occupy our space here. I’ve always liked to think that she dreamed of this each time that she went to sleep. I like to think she was dreaming of it the last time she went to sleep, in our little hut in the Outskirts. I like to think that beyond this world, she went to another, one where she had trees with fruits again. 

As we buried her in the earth and I watched Baba draw himself a map of exactly where and put it into his favorite book, I let myself dream that Nanefua was in a better place. Not just in some homemade plot identified only by a hand drawn guide. That was the first dream that I can remember ever having, and I credit her stories. Because the world around me was nothing to build a dream upon. The world of my day was anything but fruitful, was as far from good as I can even describe to you…

.

The Fall. It happened before Shani was born. It happened when her parents were too young to even remember. They DIDN’T put it in new books. They didn’t make new books. They didn’t keep places open that did provide books. That was what made Nanefua faithfully believe that books were invaluable. She kept every one that she owned, collected every one that she found, and bought every one that she could afford. 

When the homeless were being relocated outside of the city and lower income households were being pushed further away from the city, Nanefua at least had a van to her name. She was content to live in it, as she wasn’t the best at haggling and that was what they were doing a lot of to get into homes in what was now called The Outskirts. She, like many women, paired up with a man to get into a space. It was a very small apartment, and he fortunately was good at maintenance, because The Fall stopped a lot of building ventures. Many of the apartments in the area were incomplete and abandoned. All of the empty homes of people who died were up for grabs. Squatters rushed into those, and landlords never came to collect. 

It was like people in the city refused to think about them for a while, probably simply hoping that they would just die, out of sight and out of mind. Having a male roommate was good for a lot of things. He built several shelves for all of the books she had, even though he didn’t know WHY she held on to something that was becoming obsolete, and he wasn’t bad looking, either. A little short, and stocky, but he was strong and had a nice smile.

Nanefua and her roommate were not in love. They barely even liked each other. But, they were human and they had needs. Baba was born in the beginning years of The Fall in a small apartment, with barely running water and scheduled electricity. When Baba was 3, the apartment’s original owner sent their emissary to collect payment. Nanefua thought this would eventually happen, so she had been saving up as much as she could. It wasn’t enough. They took what she had, gave a date for the rest and took her roommate to work for it.

She never saw that man again. Emissaries became the norm. They came with muscle behind them, with unfair contracts and rough consequences. She took her toddler and her books and they lived in a packed van and she posted near a well that she would steal water from. Every now and then, she would check the old apartment to see if Baba’s father had come back. When he was 6 was the last time. She saw the emissary bring in a construction team. They were going to work on the apartment, finish some things up... More people couldn’t live in the city and now, middle class folk were forced to live in these apartments.

Middle class no longer existed, they just didn’t realize that yet. Most of them began working JUST to be able to live in their homes. They had to hustle and scrape for other needs - food, water... She was content to build a little hut near the well. The owner of the well hired her to collect payment from anybody who wanted water from it and allotted her a certain amount herself. She used the land to grow food. The soil was better back then. The water was better back then. 

By the time Shani was born, the ecosystem outside of the city was abysmal. Working was done to survive. Rich people lived in the city and the further away from the city you lived, the further away from wealth, health and happiness, and the closer you were to death.

Shani wondered when she was little, “Was there a sickness? Like, a plague or pandemic? Was there a natural disaster? Was there an economic crash? How did things get so bad? What caused The Fall?”

“The rich was greedy and didn’t care if they killed everybody, as long as they had.”

Long story short, ALL of those things happened. Natural disasters, illnesses, every bit of misfortune... but they simply let them die. Pushed them out, forced them away. Let them die. The Fall is what they called it. They acted like it was something that happened. Like the system wasn’t up against these people all along. The system had been messed up. They just finely tuned it with the more money that they made.

That was the world that Shani inherited, but she also inherited the books. And Shani LOVED books. 

.

Her mind worked a little differently than the people around her. From the time she was able to recognize things and respond to others, that had been a truth about her. Her mother had learned to read before all of the school systems became privatized, and since her grandmother purchased as many books on teaching and learning as possible whenever bookstores began to go out of business and funding was cut for libraries - Shani never had a shortage. Reading became something that only the privileged had the best access to. The privileged, and Shani’s family... maybe a few other poor families.

Whenever libraries became obsolete and the buildings began being repurposed, only librarians cared enough to collect all of the now “useless” books and they banded together to get cheap properties and hold the books there. It would have been criminal to refer to these places as libraries. They didn’t receive funding. They couldn’t order other books, and they didn’t have fancy systems or regular staff to keep everything in the best order. 

So, after a few years, the Dewey decimal system was no longer at play. They simply had signs saying that if you dropped off books, you could trade them for others, and if you took any books to keep, to please try to leave another to borrow. After another few years, they had signs that just said: Free Books. Nanefua gathered as many as they could fit into the hut. Shani fortunately began reading very early as a result. 

True, learning to read from a book was extremely different from the computerized learning systems of the privatized schools, but the alphabet had not changed, and most people underestimated the purpose of books. By the time she was 4, she knew how to both read and speak in several languages, because she had been shown books since she was able to say her first word. Mama and Baba disagreed on what that word was, whether Mama or Nana, but the moment any of them heard it, Nanafue said the girl was ready to start looking at letters and words. She would teach her herself.

After all, she had survived mostly on things she learned just from looking into her own book collection.  Baba was a miner, and often had to travel and send money to them from wherever he was on location working. Shani got used to not seeing much of either of her parents as a small girl. Nanefua raised her for the most part for the first 6 years of her life. But, whenever Nanafue was gone, she had to get used to being alone. It was a long year. Time worked really different for little kids, whether or not they were having a ball. And she was not.

Her mother was bused into the city for gardening and landscaping. She did yard work through a firm and was sent to various properties to spend ours cultivating their yards and plant life. She had picked it whenever she was 5, and had been stuck doing it since then… only advancing to harder, more grueling work in fields and on large pieces of land as she got older. Whenever Shani was little, her mother spent most of her time working at a pomegranate farm. It was a very lucrative industry, and being one of the best, her mother made enough money to get her considered for schooling.

The tests for outsiders to get into city schools were much more difficult than they were for the rich people. Outskirts kids had to work harder and smarter to even get noticed, and their parents were charged brutally in order to take every potential step to gain access to a school.

It didn’t help that Shani’s mind didn’t work like other people’s did. They often thought that she was showing off, or trying to make them feel stupid whenever she would have conversations with them. It taught her not to speak too freely. But, that helped her learn to write things down. Sometimes, she couldn’t focus and needed to write many things down. Regardless of her speaking situation, or her focusing habits, she got into one of the best schools in the city whenever she was 5...

But her parents couldn’t afford to actually send her. 

Instead, they sent her to a less expensive Montessori school, on the merit of her acceptance into the Academy of Superiority. The school masters worked with them on paying her fees and she also was assigned several chores to help compensate. She was exceptionally good at organizing and cleaning up, and whenever she took summer breaks, her teachers would alert her of what they would expect to be known in the upcoming years so that she could homeschool for the summer while they saved up for tuition. 

They applied for the scholarship program each year since she qualified at age 7. It wasn’t until she was 10 that she both was granted access into AoS under the work program.

Riding into that part of the city sent her mind into a whirlwind…

[fairyqueenofthedragons]

Deus ex Machina in Fablehaven

Saw a thing about deus ex machina, by that I mean a convo on the discord (https://discord.gg/TYe6zbm for those interested) and anyways, I did a brief look over of the stuff that without context might look like cheats to solving problems, vs things that actually are just there for the one problem with no other plot relevance.

The discord helped name things that they considered possible deus ex machina.

Definition of Deus ex Machina: an unexpected power or event saving a seemingly hopeless situation, especially as a contrived plot device in a play or novel.

Book One: Kendra got the Queen’s aid.

Now, this might seem like a deus ex machina, except it was foreshadowed with Grandpa Sorenson’s mention of the Fairy Queen’s shrine. On top of that, it held importance through every book after.

And Kendra didn’t just get to the island and have her problem solved. She risked her life to reach the island cause she saw it as her only hope, and then she had to do more work to make the potion that she used to save her life. She also unknowingly ingested a deadly poison (the potion was deadly towards humans).

Not a Deus ex Machina

Book Two: The Cocoon.

Now, this is an item that Coulter said is super hard to make, and it took him a lot of work to get. He ended up giving it to Seth when the revenant was there, and it is due to this cocoon that Seth survived Olloch, who was trying to (and did) eat him.

Theoretically work was done for this magical ultimate shield that can defend against all things (at the cost of being trapped for a time). We don’t see it, and it’s use basically defeats Olloch. This was used really as a plot device, but it wasn’t unexpected, and there was a cost in that Coulter was lost.

Not a Deus ex Machina

Book Three: Patton and the Chronometer

Patton showing up wasn’t expected at all, but with the Chronometer it is explained. He also didn’t just fill the single plot of Seth escaping. It was unexpected, and didn’t really have foreshadowing beyond the fact that he brought it there (which would allow him to mess with it). But it did make sense, while also saving a seemingly hopeless situation.

By technical definition his appearance is a deus ex machina but by the way it’s used it’s not really one.

The Chronometer... honestly time travel in general usually counts a deus ex machina no matter the story. It jumps past the rules and changes things wildly. It’s op and works outside everything else.

Technically the Chronometer doesn’t do that, but also does. Supposedly everything that will happen has happened in terms of time travel, but if that’s the case then there are a lot of plot holes.

The Sphinx has been to the island before book 5, where time travel happened to open it partially. Yet it was not open when he was last there? Nor when Patton was there the one time in more recent years? But it’s already happened because it would happen?

The things Patton left behind have been “passed down” and yet... they’re never mentioned before they become relevant.

Overall, the Chronometer itself might not be a deus ex machina, but the way it’s used is. It’s a plot device that constantly solves the problem for them and the explanation doesn’t work.

Book Four: The Knapsack and the Stingbulb

The Knapsack is something that hasn’t been brought up previously as a possibility. It is explained as a powerful object, and is used to let Kendra escape from an otherwise hopeless situation (though she may have possibly been able to escape later it would’ve been extremely difficult and even though her stingbulb succeeded, she didn’t really. She was followed and the Sphinx was purposefully letting her get away).

So the item came out of nowhere, is a powerful magical object, and solves a hopeless situation. While it also is used throughout the rest of the book, it’s used as a way of holding a bunch of supplies and Warren then. And then it’s destroyed the moment it’s use is no longer necessary.

Technically yeah it is a deus ex machina.

The stingbulbs... they let people die but not die, are an excuse to bring back the Larsen’s who had a funeral literally book one, get Kendra dead and then let her escape, and are overall used to further plot points. But I could forgive all of this if they actually went “hmm, these are extinct, where did they used to grow?” and found the fifth preserve or at least started working towards finding it.

Overall they’re used to bring people back, or allow people to slip away, but aren’t just used for the heroes to escape.

Not a deus ex machina.

Book Five: Patton, Vasilis, the eternals

Patton, dear old Patton. Technically he’s already been involved, but he does basically solve all their problems when he gets involved. Yes they (Seth) still have to act, but he’s given step by step instructions and a bunch of guidance from the guy who’s long dead. But it’s been foreshadowed as a possible solution by book 3 and 4. And he didn’t personally solve everything just gave all the steps needed for it.

Vasilis is the sword of light and dark and was not mentioned prior to Patton. It in and of itself isn’t technically a deus ex machina, it has foreshadowing in that book... but not any earlier. It’s a powerful magical object, and it does kinda solve all the problems. It also seems to have no real price other than wanting the power, it uses their power to amplify but doesn’t seem to drain them.

Seth using it: He’s able to kill the two most deadly demons other than the demon king himself (and that’s actually debatable to me) with it. If you’ve read dragonwatch cottg we learned more that I won’t say in this post but it does tell you a lot. Him killing them was something that many have tried before, but he’s the one that succeeded, thanks to that sword. Yes he was injured, but the sword also made sure he survived to get healing. It allowed him to retrieve the artifacts they needed as well.

It is a bit of a deus ex machina there.

Kendra using it: She killed the demon king, one of the five great monarchs, with like three strikes. This is roughly similar to Seth’s ease with Graulus and Nagi Luna, though the sword also seemed more powerful with Kendra (which makes sense as she has a direct connection to the fairy queens source of power whereas Seth only has his own (immense) power). It ends the battle pretty effectively and the demons flee from there.

It is a bit of a deus ex machina there.

So the blade overall is op and while Seth worked to get it, it solves basically every problem when in his (or his sisters) hands. It is unexpected as it was only brought up a little bit before retrieving it, and it is a bit of a plot device to allow them to one-shot powerful demons.

The Eternals.

The Eternals? you ask. How are they deus ex machina?

Well, they haven’t been foreshadowed at all before book five. Even the new things in the book had at least stuff that could lead to it. Their only purpose was buying the protagonists time to fight the prison and make it so Kendra and her gang weren’t just twiddling their fingers waiting off to the side.

They came out of nowhere, saved the day by giving the kids time to gather supplies and allies, and ultimately served little to no point.

Unexpected: showed up out of nowhere

Situation: hopeless

Plot device: they had no time, the eternals gave them time

Deus ex Machina.

Feel free to lmk if you guys have other thoughts, or if you have other items/plots that you think are deus ex machina. I’m also gonna be doing a post on the cheats in the books (stuff that isn’t out of nowhere and doesn’t fit the requirements of a deus ex machina but oh do they make you angry with how they work) and do dragonwatch later :)

[chaoticevilbean]

Flames of the Moon

Chapter One : Storms and Spirits

The South Pole has always been dangerous. Between wild animals, polar nights, and the constant ice and snow and freezing weather, life has always been rather difficult. The Tribe that lived there often found themselves struggling to get by. When there were many waterbenders, the Tribe thrived. They could use their environment to their advantage. Life was far easier, or as easy as it could be in the South Pole.

When the raiding began, life once again became a struggle every year.

By the time Sokka and Katara were born, there were no more waterbenders. When Katara showed the first of her bending abilities, the village was both thrilled and terrified. Their burdens might be lightened with Katara's powers, but there was already a chance that they would be raided. Her abilities would only draw more attention if they weren't careful enough.

One of their worst years was when Sokka was six and Katara was five. The midnight sun went well, but they weren't nearly as prepared for the polar night as they should've been. Low on supplies from the start, the men were constantly out on hunting and gathering trips, trying to stock up on food and fuel. Within two months, the tribe was in only a few of their tents, the fires constantly going to fight off the cold. Fuel was being used too fast to help and food wasn't going to last much longer.

Near the end of that second month, a blizzard hit their village. The men were out hunting, and the elders, women and children could only hope they would return safely. They all crowded into one tent, though it wasn't nearly as much struggle as it would've been many years ago. The wind and snow was barely kept out, and they all knew the supplies wouldn't last through the storm. When there was barely two hours worth of fuel left, Gran-Gran suggested they pray to the Spirits. Every elder, woman and child bowed and closed their eyes and did just that. They asked for the blizzard to end. For the temperature to rise. For the fuel to last longer, for the men to get back sooner, for so many things.

But Sokka didn't ask for any of the things that the others did. He had always been of a practical mindset. He knew that changing the temperature or getting rid of such a big storm might cause some change in the world's balance. The fuel would logically not last long enough even if it was stretched as far as possible, and there was no way that the men would make it safely through such a blizzard. Someone would get hurt or lost or something. So Sokka asked for what the Spirits could do. He asked for the Spirits to give him the strength to save his tribe, or to give someone else the strength, or all of them, or none of them. Whatever they could do to make sure that every villager survived this disaster.

The Spirits heard him. Their attention was caught by this little mortal boy who didn't ask any more of them than they were willing and able to give. But more important than what he asked for was who he asked. Which is to say, he asked all of them. While his fellow mortals mostly called upon Tui and La and other snow spirits, he simply asked the Spirits in general to help.

So help him they did. Most did not give much, but they did give. Koh gave Sokka immunity to his powers of face-stealing. Wan Shi Tong gave him a compass that always lead him to the Library should the mortal ever enter the Si Wong Desert.

The more powerful Spirits gave Sokka more powerful gifts. In particular, Agni, La and Tui gave him some of the greatest things they could've.

Agni bestowed upon him the gift of firebending, and since it was coming directly from the source of all firebending, the fire burned brighter and hotter than any others' inner flame.

Tui knew that Sokka would not survive as a firebender in the South Pole, given that the polar night gave no contact to the Sun. Therefore, she gave Sokka the ability to also draw power from her. He would not die on her watch.

La gave Sokka protection from his treacherous waters, and by extension, from the piercing cold of the pole. Snow and ice would not touch him like it did the others. His fire would not flicker because of the harsh winds that constantly seemed to be blowing.

All of these gifts together were mighty indeed. And so many were there that despite the speediness of Spirits with a quick purpose, he sat bowed and unseeing for many minutes after the others had opened their eyes. Katara was the one to point out Sokka's unchanging position. A half of an hour passed before he so much as twitched, and by then, the entire tent was trying to focus on him instead of the cold and despair that ate away at them. The elders found this easier, for if one so young and energetic was so still for so long, surely he was experiencing something they weren't.

Sokka's eyes opened slowly, as if he was waking up from a trance. Then, as though some other force was guiding his limbs, and it probably was, the toddler's hands cupped in front of him. A single deep breath in and out, and the first of his flames appeared.

None dared move. There was no way the boy was born a firebender, for the pregnancy had been far enough between raids to be certain, and the boy had never shown any flames before. The heat from the fire in his hands was real, the blue flames steady and controlled. Those closest to him, his mother and sister, another mother and her child, and Kanna, all felt the heat radiate from his body, strong and comforting. Kanna was the first to speak.

"It seems the Spirits have answered one of us and bestowed a great gift." The soft words were barely audible over the raging blizzard, but still heard by all.

"Gifts, Gran-Gran," Sokka whispered, confused but pleased at what had happened.

"What?"

"They gave me more than one."

That moment was etched into everyone's minds who were present for the rest of their lives. The fire was no longer needed because one of their children was of the Sun. None of the hunters were told when they finally returned, for the raids still occurred and Sokka was young and blessed, but anger and hatred is blinding. The elders taught Sokka all they could when they could, without arousing suspicion from their fellow tribe members. Sokka watched the benders that came to raid, hiding behind ice piles his sister made to memorize the forms. He found himself using a more smooth version of their movements, more fluid like water or air. It made it easier to use fire on the ice, though Sokka still practiced the 'true' forms.

He almost stopped bending when Kya died. Fire had been her death and it had brought so much harm. But Kanna told him not to. The Spirits gave him fire because the flames were life. He knew this. Fire kept them alive on the ice, bringing heat and light. So Sokka kept going.

He found that the flames were different colors, and he found their meanings. Red, yellow, and orange were meant for small things. Common things. They were fueled by anger, fear, and worry. Though Sokka instead called it all necessity. The need for light, or for protection from injustice. Green was fueled by wonder and mysticism and joy. The green flames came when Sokka was staring at a polar bear pup or at the biannual sunset. They didn't burn, but tickled and danced. They spread fast, but disappeared as the wonder wore off. Where they touched, plants grew better, and Sokka felt happier and full of energy. Blue flames were hot. Hotter than necessity. They were a greater form of necessity, but also controlled. They were protection and light and heat on a grander scale, and they never strayed from where they were told to go. Purple was healing. It closed wounds easily, though the experience could be rather unpleasant or painful. Pinks and indigos were much like the blues of green fire. The same but stronger. They were harder to maintain, but they made the bushes bear fruit in under five minutes.

White fire was the strangest. It was cold. When Sokka first made it, he was curious. He was looking at the different colors and the white came suddenly, naturally. When held against the puddle of water he had melted, it refroze it like Katara sometimes did with her bending. Not as fast and not as strong, but like an ice pack.

When Sokka's dad left, he was the only man. He had to be a man now, because he was Acting Chief. He quickly realized that every resource had to be utilized. So he moved as fast as green fire. He taught the women the basics of fighting that he remembered and how to gather and hunt. He used his fire to keep the pits going, and held the kids close on especially cold nights were his body heat was almost tangible. He had the kids play games to build strength and balance and agility and all the other qualities they needed without losing their attention. He had Katara build up their walls and structures with her bending. He did all he could, learning the ways of the home that usually were only taught to females, and had the boys below him start learning alongside their female companions.

When him and Katara got caught on a current while fishing, he wasn't worried about himself. His panic had turned off the logic that said he couldn't die in the Sea thanks to La, but he was more worried about what would happen to his tribe. His people. When Katara cracked that iceberg open like a nut (thanks to Sokka refusing to use his firebending to melt the floes and save their canoe, which, hey, he was panicking and he had hid it from a lot of the tribe for years, it's instinct), Sokka didn't see the Avatar and bison. He saw more mouths to feed, and one was a growing boy and the other a giant animal. He could barely keep people fed well as everything was.

So, yeah, he was more prickly than he should've been, and definitely didn't take the best approach, but logic and a filter do not come together.

"What was that?" he shouted as his sister and the newcomer, Aang, a flipping airbender and probable Avatar, ran into the village at top speed. "Did you set off a flare?" His sister fired off some excuse about proving the war and an accident and Aang said there was a trap, but the teenage Chief was more focused on the black snow that was falling. He turned sharply, effectively cutting off the two troublemakers, firing off orders like an archer fires arrows. The villagers gathered in the center, Aang hiding in one of the tents. The children remained behind a solid line of women, while Sokka stood in the front, war paint on and spear at the ready.

Metal ship met ice wall, breaking the barrier with little difficulty. It wasn't meant to keep out warships though. A gangplank slid out, and several soldiers followed a young looking captain with an awful haircut down the steel. Sokka moved forward into a defensive stance, prepared to charge. When the captain reached the snow, he stopped.

"Where is the Avatar? We know he's here!" Sokka's mind worked overdrive, adrenaline pumping. Aang was likely the Avatar, having been frozen for a hundred years and therefore presumed dead. Aang may be another mouth to feed, but he was also twelve and kind and made sure to help fix whatever he broke. This captain referred to all of the soldiers. We, not I. That suggested he saw them as a group, an unusual trait among the Fire Nation. Sokka came to the conclusions quicker than wind, and charged before the man had finished his last sentence.

The captain attempted to disarm and kick Sokka away, but he ducked, grabbed his spear back and swept the leg in a single consecutive moment. The captain was caught by his soldiers, the unhindered ones moving forward to fight. Sokka relaxed his stance just enough to show he wasn't going to attack further, before leaning in ever so slightly to speak.

"We don't have much left. Your people have taken lives and supplies alike. Even if we have the Avatar, they would be one of us, and I'm not about to let you take a member of my tribe." The captain stared at Sokka, standing properly once more. He seemed to understand something, and signaled his soldiers to stand down, which they did so hesitantly.

"I am Crown Prince Zuko, banished prince of the Fire Nation. I have come to retrieve the Avatar by order of Firelord Ozai." Sokka slammed his spear's end into the plank, just enough to produce a good thud.

"Sokka of the Southern Water Tribe and sole Warrior of Tradition." Warrior of Tradition was what Katara had called him because he was technically the only male warrior left. "If the Avatar is among us, it is their choice. I will not allow you to take them by force should they exist as one of the tribe." Sokka knew he was laying it on thick, but he wasn't ever given proper formality training so it was the best he could do. It seemed to work.

"Can you find if the Avatar is with you? He'd be the age of her." Zuko pointed at Gran-Gran, at which Sokka couldn't help but snort. Upon the looks he got, he quietly explained.

"Don't let Elder Kanna hear you. She'll claim you as her grandchild and insist you call her Gran-Gran. It's her punishment for any person who calls her old." Leaving promptly, the teenager he hurried down the gangplank and towards where Aang was hiding, Katara and the elders following, though only Katara truly entered with him.

"Well?" was the first thing Aang said as they came in. Sokka sighed at the boy, turning so he was facing both him and his sister.

"If you decide to come willingly, they'll leave us alone. This captain is honorable. Not many would include their crew in statements but he did. He won't come back so long as he gets the Avatar."

"But I'm not the Avatar," Aang hurriedly said, causing Sokka to turn fully to the boy and hold him by the shoulders.

"Aang, the Avatar was thought to be dead for a hundred years. There was never a Water Avatar, so the whole world thought the cycle had been broken. But you were frozen for a hundred years. You're an airbender. It's kinda obvious you're the Avatar." Aang looked down sadly, caught in his lie.

"But, Aang, look at me." The boy's head slowly raised. "We don't care. Right now, you are a member of our tribe. Right now, we need to talk about if you don't go."

"What are you talking about, Sokka? Of course he's not going. There isn't an 'if'." Katara pushed her way into the conversation, hands on her hips and taking the new knowledge she apparently didn't have with stride.

"If Aang doesn't go with them, they'll attack. That captain is honorable, more so than most, but he's still Fire Nation. The Firelord wants the Avatar, and his soldiers will stop at nothing until they get you. There's not much we can do to fight them off, so we need to lay our options out."

"I could go with them."

"We're not letting you go with them. We could fight and you leave. If Appa can fly, they'll see him and start following you, and you'll have an easier time evading them."

"But if they all attack at once, the village will be destroyed in matter of minutes," Sokka pointed out. They all went silent in thought, before Katara clapped her hands together.

"You said the captain was honorable, right?" Sokka nodded, confused. "So if you remind him that you're the only warrior, which is technically true because you're the only one who was raised to fight, he might fight you alone! That way you can hold him off until Aang can fly over!"

"Are you guys sure?" Aang asked, looking between the siblings apprehensively. The two nodded, trying to reassure the hundred-twelve-year-old.

With their plan, Katara quickly instructed Aang on how to leave the village discreetly while Sokka went out to speak with the elders waiting. When both siblings were done, they walked together back to the main group, leading the elders behind them. Sokka continued walking, though only halfway to the soldiers this time.

"What have you decided?" Prince Zuko called out. He looked like he already knew the verdict.

"The Avatar will not go with you. We have accounted for your need to follow orders, so I was simply told to remind you that I am the only Warrior of Tradition left." Zuko nodded, turning and speaking quietly to his soldiers. Judging by their faces, they either didn't like or didn't understand what was being said.

The captain stepped forward, assuming a basic fighting stance. Sokka did the same, spear ready. No one moved, every person present holding their breath in anticipation.

Zuko made the first move, sending two fistfuls of flames towards the Water Tribe warrior, who dodged and charged forward. More fire kept Sokka away, and the two began a pattern. Zuko used fire to keep Sokka at bay, but the prince couldn't get a single hit in.

Sokka switched it up by sliding under the next wave of flames, ducking underneath the prince's arms and ramming into his chest. In return, the firebender grabbed his spear and broke it as he was pushed back. Sokka took his club out, holding the weapon at the ready. The next few moves from his opponent were startling.

The firebender switched to a hand-to-hand combat, surprising Sokka enough that he was able to be disarmed and tossed back. Sokka threw his boomerang at Zuko, who watched it 'miss' him with confusion. He sealed his fate by turning his back on the weapon, which quickly made its way back to its owner, hitting Prince Zuko on the back of the head and knocking his helmet off.

A few low gasps could be heard from the rest of the tribe as the helmet hit the snow. Sokka, to his credit, was only slightly stunned to find that the 'young' royal was actually a teenager. A teenager with a nasty scar covering the entire left side of his face, putting his eye in a permanent glare.

Prince Zuko gave no more time for his foe to gather his bearings, sending a wave of fire straight towards him. Sokka dropped underneath them, realizing a second too late that the flames would reach his tribemates. Fortunately, or maybe unfortunately, depending on how you looked at it, there was no need to worry. An orange blur came speeding past the villagers, and suddenly Aang was dispersing the fire with his glider staff.

"Stop!" Aang commanded, his voice strong and sharp. If Sokka had not earlier that day seen the same boy crash into a tower of snow and get buried just to make some kids laugh, he would have been shocked into complete silence.

As it was, he instead rolled his eyes.

"Glad you could join us, Aang," he said, sarcasm thick in his voice. "I guess Appa was too boring."

A look from Katara told him the sarcasm wasn't appreciated, and a look from Aang said that the Appa comment was uncalled for.

"Is this the Avatar?" Prince Zuko spoke up, ignoring Sokka in favor of glaring down Aang.

"Yep! I'm Aang!" Apparently, talking to a stranger from an enemy nation who wanted to capture him and maybe even kill him wasn't enough reason for the boy to drop his bubbly demeanor.

"You're just a kid!"

"Well, you're just a teenager," Aang replied, and Sokka could barely stop the snort that threatened to come. Zuko shook off the surprise of seeing a twelve-year-old boy instead of a hundred-twelve-year-old man, and slid easily into his beginning stance once more. Aang looked worried, and glanced behind him, at Katara and the others, and then over at Sokka. Despite only knowing the boy for a day, there was no doubt in Sokka's mind what Aang was considering.

"If I go with you, do you promise to leave the village alone?" Aang asked. There was no preamble, no accusing tone, just worry and a bit of curiosity. Zuko stood tall again, taking the question as easily as one could in the situation.

"You have my word, Avatar. If you come with me, the village will be left alone." Aang nodded once, firmly, before turning back to Katara and pulling her into a hug. Something was whispered in her ear, Sokka just knew, and when Aang broke the embrace and moved towards him, he knew it was his turn. Sure enough, as the small boy held onto Sokka, he whispered in the lowered ear.

"Take Appa, yip yip." The hug was over then, and Aang waved goodbye to the village, striding over to the Fire Nation soldiers. Zuko took his staff from him, pulling the boy up the gangplank by the shoulder.

A few minutes later, the ship pulled back from the ice, leaving a broken wall behind.

"Alright, Katara, kids, get to work fixing that wall, we need it done ASAP. Gran-Gran, ladies, I'm gonna need supplies for Katara, Aang and myself that will last until we can get to a market or some wildland. Make sure we have a sewing kit and stuff. I don't think we'll be back soon. Anyone not doing that, come with me. I need to go over some plans for while we're gone." Everyone sprung into action, two of the women and the oldest kid besides Sokka and Katara following their chief. Those three sat around him in their central tent, awaiting the instructions.

"Alright, we don't got much time," Sokka began. "Aang is the Avatar, but he only knows airbending. That kid is gonna need some serious help to get where he needs to be, and Katara is gonna save him no matter what. I might as well tag along and make sure they don't die but that means that there isn't gonna be a chief here anymore."

"Since we need a chief, I'm going to appoint Gran-Gran Chieftess in Absence because she's the eldest. Shiyan, I'm going to need you to start filling in the gaps. Wherever you can, especially hunting and fishing. Fang, you're going to have to take over as leader of our warriors. I know you're still training yourself, but you need to take charge. Caiji, you're all gonna need a lot more firewood since I'm leaving. Get started right away. I know we have a lot stocked up but it's better to have a large stock than to use everything up and find that there's not enough time or there's bad weather."

"SOKKA!" Katara's voice broke past the tent's walls, and her brother quickly stood, hugging each of the three.

"Keep things going. Everyone needs to work together." They all nodded their assent. Sokka rushed outside and began hugging those out there. He wasn't ashamed to say a few tears fell, because he knew that the loss of the tribe's firebender and waterbender would cause more struggle for those remaining. When goodbyes were done, Sokka attached a new spear to his back and stood in front of his people.

"While Katara and I are gone, I'm appointing Gran-Gran Chieftess in Absence. Keep strong and keep united. Life is going to be harder, so you'll have to be stronger. Tui and La bless you." With that, Katara led the way to the giant fluffy snot monster they had met earlier. Appa the apparent-flying bison. The two teens climbed aboard him, Sokka on his head, and told him to follow Aang. Only, he didn't move.

"C'mon, Appa!" Katara called from the saddle.

"Didn't Aang say something to get him to move?" Sokka asked, thinking back to the day before. Until he remembered Aang's whisper. "Yip yip?"

A yelp escaped both of the Water Tribe kids as the bison took to the air, indeed flying. Sokka nearly fell off, but managed to hold on and direct the creature towards the path of the warship.

"Katara, he's flying! Look, Katara!"

"Sokka, I know, turn around!" Sokka did just that, and found his sister sitting in the saddle with green fire dancing around her, a smug look on her face at her brother's obvious delight despite having previously discrediting the bison. Sokka schooled his face into one of indifference as quickly as possible.

"I mean, big deal, he's just flying." The statement, however unimpressed it sounded, was made null by the continuance of the green fire. Katara laughed at his attempts to pull the green back in, but flames have life on their own.

Sokka turned back to face the direction of the warship. Don't worry, Aang. We're coming for you.