#(Some of the comments I was seein {in a more very 'General' sense But} REALLY Rubbed me Wrong way)

[koushirouizumi]

Me: Hey guys Im sorry this whole time I didnt realize Digi{+Advs} {even if partially} 'dedicated' fan-blog's were here purely, not actually as 'just a joke', to be your Personal ContentTM Creator's and not exist as you know, like, Human, with similar Interests to you while existing as a fellow FAN in a f ANDOM---

[jitmakesstuff]

hmm. there’s a lot to say and my brain isn’t really large enough for any of it, I’m afraid. but reading back on some of the comments left on the oyo reupload post, it really does mean a lot to me to see people liking my stuff. part of the problem of working within the homestuck music team sphere was always this sense of isolation from the rest of the fanbase in general. or maybe I’m just bad at connecting with people? there’s certainly a fair bit of that too, I still hardly don’t ever talk to anybody from back in those times, aside from when plaz wants some help with chords every once in a blue moon. probably doesn’t help I’m not always working on music, either, I get more into sound design or voice acting or y’know, things that I can’t go posting on here at all. I mean I do musical theater too? but that’s not something that can be posted about on here either.

mm. point being, I’m always very appreciative of people enjoying my stuff, even if I feel bad about it or even if I’m hardly making music as much. not that I don’t like music, just like, I don’t find myself doing it as much unless there’s a reason, I guess. like how I was in stream earlier and makin played that clip of radiation “don’t call me toby fox” doing the games will never stop, and I’m like huh, maybe I should remake game bro? that could be fun. but at the same time I’m between houses right now so, hmm. who knows. we’ll see. be seein’ y’all, it was nice to see you all again. all the few of you that are still left around here, heh.

[prose-for-hire]

An impassioned debate

Pairing: Giles x Spike (”platonic” but they’re arguing lol)

Request: Spike & Giles bicker fest a la missing moments from when they were housemates, please?

Requested by: @staycalmandbeafan 

Warning: Sex references.

A/N: Sometimes when I write I assume the attitude of one of the characters. Therefore, Spike doesn’t always appear in a good light lol (It was fun to write though and I got a little carried away sorry) 💜🖤

Giles liked to live alone.

He had grown up living with his parents. He had roommates in university. He even flat-shared in the communal house him and the friends he hung around at the time broke into and claimed as their own in his early twenties.

And that, is exactly how Giles knew he liked to live alone. Some days he could barely tolerate the young people that no matter how fond of them he was, would go on about pointless and often arbitrary nonsense in his presence.

His home then, became his sanctuary. A place where he could shut out the world.

That was until one fateful day in the all-too recent past. Thanksgiving day. A day where the Americans gave thanks for the parts of their lives they are grateful for. He thought he ought to partake in tradition and suggested how grateful he was for Buffy and the others.

A silent, more self-indulgent thanks was to the peace and quiet he would get at the end of the day. His house to himself, not shackled by parents. Kept up all hours by housemates or forced into copious amounts of overly emotional performance at the hands of the well-intentioned Americans.

This silent thought was shattered as a thud at the door announced an unwelcome visitor.

That’s how Giles ended up with a new houseguest. The vampire chained to his tub. A tub he had been very fond of until Spike had come in and ruined with his stench. He was probably the only person that smelt this bad after spending this amount of time in the bathtub.

It would be fair to say that Giles hadn’t been a very welcoming host, but to put it in context, despite being ‘harmless’ Spike had tried to bite Giles not once, but twice. Upon the first attempt being a near-miss and the second ending in blinding pain for the corpse-faced lunatic, he had the gall to tell Giles that he would taste like a dried up old prune anyway.

There was also the incident on Thanksgiving day itself where he managed to eat half a plate of cookies before anyone had the chance to stop him. A miraculous feat when you note that his hands and feet were bound tight.

These were, for the most part issues that Giles could look past. Especially now he was sure that Spike was unable to actually harm him. But what he couldn’t get past were, well, every other area that involved living with Spike.

The issues could be divided as such: Eating habits; sleeping habits; general depravity and what one could only describe as ‘The Passions debate’.

We should probably begin with the sleeping habits:

Or lack thereof. Spike was cat-like in the sense that he didn’t usually get a full night’s, or days, sleep. He tended to sleep a couple hours here or there seemingly whenever he pleased. Which meant that when he was tied up after dark, the vampire had a whole lot of thoughts and nowhere else to go so he seemingly spoke them out loud.

Giles tossed and turned in his bed desperately clinging to sleep, able for the most part to ignore the constant babbling of Spike’s innermost thoughts. Which actually amounted to shagged someone, shagged someone oh I drank some blood, shagged someone.

It was utterly mind numbing and Giles was beginning to feel that should he ever get out of this arrangement alive he would look into finding a house in the middle of a deserted island. Never to return to civilisation.

Giles managed to mostly ignore the fanged menace. Until the singing started. Or, what Giles would only call tuneless hollering. He butchered every punk song known to man and some surprisingly sugary pop ballads that Giles wouldn’t dare comment on, less he revealed that he himself knew the songs lyrics too.

He actually started singing to pass the time, it was lyrical to begin with but as the night wore on he started to shout the words, the tune lost. Sacrificed to a greater goal. Irritation.

He grinned when Giles padded downstairs to try to silence the din.

“Alright, Rupert? Here for dinner and a show?”

“I’m going to gag you” Giles warned. Something they had already had numerous arguments over.

“Well, you’re really gonna have to take me out to that dinner then” Spike smirked at Giles’ disdain for his words, moving his head slightly at the man’s reaction.

“Will you shut up! For God’s sake, man, be quiet!” Giles shouted, sleep-deprivation and living with someone that had more fangs than brains made him more and more irate. It made Spike smile even further, his next words making Giles about three seconds from throttling him (which, wouldn’t have killed him but it would have been very satisfying for Giles).

“Well, seein’ as you’re awake and all and got nothing better to do, be a love and get me some blood?” Spike cackled. Giles stopped himself from going near Spike and instead trailed to the kitchen, hoping it would at least shut him up for five minutes.

Which brings us nicely along to eating habits:

“I like a bit of texture in it!” Spike had shouted one morning. His blood was steaming but Giles had returned back into the kitchen with it to add something to try and get a moment’s peace.

He had been playing a very enjoyable game of see how many times he can send the same mug of blood back before Giles realised he was only doing it to annoy him. The highest score had been 3 times and only, in Giles’ defence, because the man hadn’t been properly awake that morning.

Giles had hit Spike twice (which was very tame considering the horror that was a feral vampire that wasn’t used to being in a domestic setting). Once because of the aforementioned incident and the second time after a particularly heated debate that we will discuss later.

Spike had been lounging on the sofa again, getting crumbs all over his chair. Giles swung his feet and made him sit up as he spoke.

“Will you bloody-”

“Oh don’t start conjuring those sweet massacres in my mind, Rupes, makes a fella’s hunger unbearable” He rubbed his stomach that did in fact appear to be gurgling at the mere mention of the word.

Spike, when he was allowed out of his restraints and Giles saw it was too much like hard work to be waiting on Spike all of the time, began to make his own meals. Which, really, just created more of a mess. And a distinct lack of Weetabix around the house.

He created the worst combinations known to man, sometimes to annoy Giles and other times to just see how it went. He sprayed cans of whipped cream in his mouth left over from Thanksgiving, ate crackers with every topping he found in the house and made sure to use the least amount of manners as possible whilst doing so.

Which brings us onto the section Giles would entitle, Spike’s ‘generally depraved character’:

Giles was still in the habit of tying Spike up at night, but he had subsequently allowed him to walk around in the day after a while.

There had been one evening where Spike ran through the entire house, struggling at every turn so that Giles couldn’t tie him up again. He was bored and it was fun making the human chase him. Eventually he was cuffed and tied to his chair and left there through the day so that it didn’t happen again.

Luckily, Spike had gotten bored of that game and just let Giles tie him up at night again now. Not without comment, of course.

“Call that a knot? I’ve had tighter curls, mate” Spike rolled his eyes as Giles looked over the glasses perching on the end of his nose. He then reached and tightened the knot by a lot making Spike yelp and scowl at him.

“Hey! You can’t just leave me like this – I’m getting’ rope burn here!” he shouted as he struggled, thus giving himself worse rope burn.

“Ah, yes and what’re you going to do about it, Spike, hm? Serenade me to death?” Giles rolled his eyes in disdain. He rolled his shoulders, adjusting his position with a scowl stamped on his face. 

He watched Giles get back to reading his paper. He let him get a few lines in before he interrupted him this time.

“Not exactly the five star digs I’m used to” Spike said which made Giles scoff. He had seen many of the places Spike had called home and none of them were fit for burying a corpse in let alone housing a living one.

“I can untie you and you can just leave, Spike, I’m sure burning to a crisp would really show me what for” Giles muttered, focusing on the paper he had been trying to read.

“Oh, I see you. Thinking you’re better than me – smarter. Anyone can read books, they don’t make it their whole sodding personality. You’re a good ol’ British stereotype, Rupes,”

“Ah, yes, well, many people can read Spike but it takes a particularly impervious individual to be so oblivious to their own misgivings that they result in insulting themselves in the same breath as their foe”

Spike rolled his eyes at the use of the word ‘foe’ but kept silent for a while. It was a rare silence and Giles made the most of it. Savoured it. He wasn’t sure if it was the big words that had evaded him or just the fact that his insult had resonated. But he didn’t say these thoughts out loud, less he would have to listen to Spike’s sparkling wit.

However, lo and behold, Spike suddenly spoke up again. 

“You know what I miss?” Spike asked, leaving Giles sighing audibly and putting his unread book back down. He had tried several times to read the same line.

“No, but I assume that you’re about to enlighten me”

“Civil wars”

“What?!” Giles asked incredulously, taking his glasses from his face just so he didn’t have to look at the vampire who appeared to be staring up at the ceiling and reminiscing.

“Yeah” No nodded, “There’s just something about a civil war… could be the fear. Aphrodisiac, it is”

“I’m not sure I agree-”

“Probably ‘cause you’d be the one doing the fearing you great ponce”

“Now-” Giles was ready to launch into a barrage of insults, using all of his wit to ground Spike into the pile of dust and ash he was destined to be. But then, he took a breath. He decided to hit Spike where it hurt, “That’s it! No more television”

“What?!” Spike shouted, his eyes bulging in horror, “You can’t do that, I’m dyin’ here gramps-!”

“You’re already dead”

“Yeah, well, now I’m rotting away here with the living. I mean, you’ve aged – I saw your graduation photo in the hall. It’s like lookin’ in a particularly haunting mirror when I see you” Spike spoke smugly of the way his face hadn’t aged despite being older than Giles.

There was a stony silence for a while. Giles went quiet. When Giles went quiet, he was mad. The kind that could become insidious. His fists curled and his mind raced. Blood pumping hot around his body.

But, after a moment, he resolved himself. Spike wasn’t worth Ripper making an appearance. No, Spike wasn’t worth anything.

“Why don’t you read something, or perhaps figure out how to count past two?” Giles offered, stepping away from where the tv was now staying off. Spike’s face turned sour at the prospect of another afternoon with his thoughts.

“How about four?” Spike asked, flipping the v’s with both arms raised at the man who looked like he was about to thump his guest yet again.

“You’re a piece of work, Spike”

“Thanks” Spike nodded, still looking at Giles expectantly, waiting for the television to be turned back on. But when he turned way and started to look busy Spike’s mood changed.

“Come on, it’s telly time!” Spike shouted but Giles just took his jacket and left the house for the rest of the day. Leaving Spike bored and trying to avoid the patches of sunlight where Giles had ‘accidentally’ opened some of the curtains on different levels of the house.

When Giles eventually began to turn the television back on for Spike, it leads us on to ‘The Passions debate’:

“Are you blind willingly or are you truly this ignorant?!” Giles shouted, his words directed at Spike but his eyes were glued to the screen. No matter how much he had fought it, Giles had been well and truly sucked into the fictional world.

“Don’t be a bloody idiot! It’s clear as sodding day that they’re meant to be together” Spike gestured wildly at the screen.

“Their relationship is forced – there is no real meaning there!” Giles insisted, much like most shows on television in his opinion.

“You got it all wrong - it’s fate, destiny or any of that bollocks”

“Ah, yes, that would be the latter”

“Don’t be daft, Ripper – have you seen them?! Pure chemistry. Nobody can act that good either, they’re shagging behind the scenes – mark my words”

“You really are as perceptive as a wooden spoon, Spike” Giles berated him.

“That’s rot, that is! They’re shagging no two ways about it”

“Two people can have chemistry and maintain a platonic relationship” Spike raised an eyebrow at him and Giles had become heated in the debate, “They are not bloody shagging!”

“Aw, does it bother you that fictional characters are getting more action than you?” Spike mock-pouted. Trying to rile the man up further. This was where it descended into chaos.

“Ah, fortunately I’m satisfied in the knowledge that there will always be someone that is worse-off than myself” Giles paused before asking, “Is Drusilla well?”

“Bugger off! That was low for an ex-watcher who gets all his happy feelings from a group of school children” Spike pounced on him, going for the jugular, “You spend an embarrassing amount of time with dear Buffy. I wonder, what could you be doin’ behind closed-”

Spike was cut off by a blow to his face. It sent him flying backwards and splintered the wooden chair he had been sat on into pieces.

“Out!” Giles demanded, face like thunder, “Out before I do something I wouldn’t regret!”

Both Spike and Giles eyed the weapons chest that was on the floor between them before looking back at the other. Both were trying to calculate how long it would take the other to get there. After a moment, Spike got to his feet and just slinked off to a different corner of the house until he got hungry and Giles went to walk off his anger.

That had been the last straw. Soon after this particular incident, Spike was shipped off the Xander’s basement. Giles finally got his house back. His wooden chair however, unfortunately never recovered.

[homogrimoire-archive]

Kingfield's Fourth Anniversary - Day 1

Just An Urban Legend

Feng, David, Dwight, and Jake find themselves at the fire together after a trial. Stories from back home are exchanged to pass the time, and some of those stories manage to find their way into the trials.

AO3 Link

This time around, it was Dwight, Jake, David, and Feng around a fire. They all had finished a trial some time ago, Dwight and David were with a different set of survivors, and Feng and Jake from another set as well. Jake was contently resting on the outskirts of the camp, Dwight and David were leaning against each other by the fire to keep even more warm, and Feng was sitting on a log bored out of her mind.

She really didn’t like this place. Its not like she was ever particularly outdoorsy. Sure, she had her smartphone, which miraculously never died, but it was entirely useless. No offline games on it, no music, and the clock was obsolete in a place where time didn’t matter. The flash didn’t stun killers, and throwing it at them just made them angry more than anything.

Still, she held onto it. A piece of home. All of them had something from home they kept on themselves. For Jake, it was a well used Swiss Army Knife, an expensive and genuine one at that. For Dwight, it was his old wristwatch. Apparently, he had it since forever. It looked as old. And for David, it was a roll of sports bandages. It never seemed to run out, despite how much he used it.

“I’m bored. Any of you got any stories?” she eventually asked since she figured the others would like to kill the time too.

“Hmmm… ” Dwight contemplated. Feng noticed that David patiently awaited his boyfriend’s response. How someone could manage to fall in love here was beyond her.

“I saw bigfoot once.”

“No you didn’t.” Jake quickly protested as he shot up from where he slept. “It was probably an emaciated bear, or some guy in a suit, or a trick of the light with some branches or something.” He then promptly went back to lying down.

“Yeesh mate, how long’ve you been holdin’ that one in?” David wondered.

“I just have very strong strong and very right opinions on dumb myths like that.” he rationalized.

“Well it’s true!” Dwight pouted. “I was working as a janitor for this huge park and this kid got lost in the woods so they arranged a search party. I went to help after my shift with a co-worker. We were searching for hours, and it was getting dark, so we decided to head back. Keep it one missing person instead of making it three, you know? So, we were on our way back when we heard this terrifying scream! It was like something I’d expect to hear here, honestly. So me and my co-worker are scared shitless. We’re back to back with our flashlights looking around to see if we can find the thing. And just when we think we’re kinda safe, I turn my light to see two glowing eyes staring right at me and the outline of a huge man.”

“No!” Feng says, almost in disbelief.

“Yes! I scream and cling onto my coworker, and then he sees it and screams, and we trip over ourselves and fumble as we run away, still screaming like little girls!” Dwight laughed. “No joke though, it had to have been at least twice as tall as me.”

“What you heard was probably a cougar, or some other large cat. Or some animals mating. Those things are freaks.” Jake shuddered. He heard animals getting it on more times than he would have ever liked to.

“Well, I know what I saw, or my name’s Aloiscious the Third! And its not.” the honest man proudly stated.

“…Whatever.” Jake sighed.

“Well, I believe you, luv.” David comforted with a kiss to his cheek.

“Thanks David.” Dwight cooed as he leaned back into his boyfriend.

“You know, I saw something’ kinda scary too when I was a kid.” David mentioned. “Not so scary now, but that’s kinda expected.”

“I’m down to hear it. Fire away, champ.”

“It began on a dark night. Me ‘n some blokes were bored and decided to pay a visit to an abandoned church.”

“You know how cliché that sounds, right?” Dwight questioned.

“And wanderin’ to the woods at night ain’t?” David fired back.

“…Touché.”

“Anyhow, we were walkin’ up to the place when we saw the thing. It was a Black Dog. Thing was guardin’ the place of course. Pry thought we were gonna tear it up, so it howled bloody murder and ran straight for us barkin’ like it was rabid!” David laughed at the memory. “Needless t’say, our arses were humbled for a few good days.”

“You saw a feral black dog? I guess that’s kinda scary.” Feng commented. She liked Dwight’s story better.

“Yeah… Could be scarier.” Dwight admitted.

“Wasn't just any ol’ bloody black dog, A Black Dog. Guess you lot might not know what they are. Legend says the first buried at a churchyard had t’guard it ‘gainst the devil. Since no one wanted to be the poor sod stuck doin’ that, people buried a dog first. Then again, could’ve just been a regular ol’ demonic black dog. Lot more of those furry bastards.”

“I could believe that.” Dwight conceded.

“Yeah. If I’m remembering correctly, there are tons of spirits and a ton of different types back home. I never really bothered to learn about it though.” she nonchalantly admitted. It never really interested her. “But, this one gaming cafe I was staying at did have a legend around it. Supposedly, a guy solo queued nonstop and died there. Sounds like a noob if you ask me. Honestly, he wasn’t even Top 500. He wasn’t even Grandmaster!” she laughed, and then saw David and Dwight looking at her in confusion. “Oh wait, you’re all kinda old huh? Guy played alone in a team based video game nonstop, and died. He wasn’t even that good at the game.”

“Ah.”

“That makes a bit more sense.” David said gratefully. Things could get rather confusing when you had friends from a few decades ahead or behind you.

“So anyways, legend has it that if you sat in the chair he died in, his spirit would possess you, and you’d get his skills. But, you’d also game yourself to death like him.”

“Did you ever sit in his chair?” Dwight wondered.

“Pft, and gain the skills of a noob like him and get wrecked? As if! I might as well have went AFK for a week. I had some juicy Prestige to keep up you know.”

Before they could pester Jake for a story, the Fog began to roll in.

“Aw shit, here we go again .” Feng said as she rolled her eyes.

“Ain’t no rest for the wicked, huh? See you guys there.” Dwight said with a wave. With his other hand, he still held onto David despite knowing the Fog would separate them regardless. They had all worked together before, so Dwight didn’t need to explain a plan of action.

“I hope it’s one a them Legion bastards. Love seein’ ‘em lose.” David grinned, sure they would have a successful trial. He gave Dwight a kiss on the cheek in celebration of the impending victory, making the shorter man blush.

“As long as we survive, I don’t care who we're up against.” Jake said as he threw in an offering, hoping it would land them in the forest. “See you all on the other side.” And with a salute, they were whisked away.

-

The Fog cleared to reveal the Red Forest. Dwight knew that somewhere, Jake was happy. He just hoped the Huntress wasn’t here this time. She was far too efficient on her home turf. Dwight wandered shortly before coming across a generator to work on. Surprisingly, he managed to complete it before something happened. Based on the scream, David was hooked. But thankfully, he wasn’t too far away from him.

Sneakily, Dwight made his way over to the hook, keeping an eye out for this trial’s killer. In a close call, he saw the eldest Legion member passed right by him. Dwight let out a sigh of relief once he was in the clear, and then rushed to David.

“My knight in shining armour’s come t’rescue me, has he?” David chuckled, but instantly regretted it and winced from the pain of the hook.

“You can thank me later. Come on, let’s go!”

“Oh, I will~” David said smugly.

“You’re terrible…” Dwight said in a restrained voice, not wanting to reveal his anticipation and spurn the other man.

Eventually, it came to the last generator, and Dwight ended up being the one to keep the Legionnaire busy.

“Come out come out wherever you are! Don’t worry, I bite!” the young man teased. Dwight tried to keep calm as he hid in the locker. Slowly, the legionnaire passed by the lockers, dragging his knife across the metal doors.

“Gotcha!” he steamed as he yanked open a locker door, revealing it to be empty. “Fucker…” he cursed as he slammed the thing shut. “Now where could he have gone?” he wondered as he idled in front of the locker Dwight was hiding in.

“How about… Here!” he screamed as he opened the locker Dwight was in, causing him to scream in turn. “HA HA HA! Classic!” the Legionnaire rejoiced as he tossed Dwight over his shoulder.

Dwight tried to break free, but was unable too. The closest hook was nearby, leaving him with not enough time.

“Alright, let’s hear you scream again!” the killer announced with eager anticipation. But just before setting Dwight on the vile contraption, there was a roar that seemed to shake the area. “What the fuck was that? What the fuck is that?” he said once he caught a glimpse of the roar’s source. Dwight saw it too, a tall thing with glowing eyes.

“Hmm?” the killer hummed, and brought up his free hand to the side of his face like it was a phone. “… Really? … Alright, alright! I get it! Sheesh… Consider it done, boss.” the killer said and hung up, and threw Dwight to the ground. For a moment, he thought he was about to get mori’d.

Instead, he got a kick to the dick and a boot to the face as the killer ran off laughing joyously. Meanwhile, Dwight curled up into a ball as he clutched his groin. A few moments later, he got up and hobbled away. A terrible experience, but better than being mori’d. When he reached the group, they had just finished the last generator, sounding off to let the killer know as well.

“Shite, wot happ’ned to ya?” David fretted as he immediately went to Dwight’s side, the deep bruise on his face and funny walk evident. “I swear, I’ll find a way to make the bastard pay!”

“Well, a kick to the dick and face. I’ll live. But, something else happened, something odd.” Dwight began. Then, they felt the heartbeat, letting them know the killer was near. Then, something passed then, something neither survivor nor killer.

“Get back here so I can skin you alive! Papa needs a new pimp coat!” the Legionnaire giggled.

“Hey, watch this pro strat!” Feng told the other survivors. “360 no scope!” she announced with a twirl, and tossed her phone. It flew in the direction of the killer, just so happening to land in front of him. He stepped on it, and slid head first into a tree. A crack formed on the mask as he groaned.

“Suck it!” Feng taunted as she brought her hands to her hips as she thrusted outwards. The others celebrated with her. This was the most fun she had in a long time.

“You little bitch! I’ll-” he began, but was cut off with a swift knee to the dick. He let out a long, high pitched squeal as he slowly crumpled to the floor, clutching his family jewels.

The thing had come back to help out. It gave a thumbs up. They all knew what that thing was now that it was in front of them.

“Nice.” David said as he gave it a thumbs up in return before it ran away again. Dwight looked at Jake with a shit-eating grin once it had left, and they were on their way to the exit gate.

“Okay, you know this doesn’t count!”

“Gotta take the L, my guy.” Feng said as she patted Jake on the back.

Back at the campfire, Dwight recounted what happened, to the shared anger and surprise of the others.

"Least that bigfoot bloke seems like a good fellow. Has my respect."

"I hope we see him again. He seemed cool." Feng hoped. It would be something to spice up life in hell.

"And what do you think, Jake?" Dwight smugly asked.

"I refuse to acknowledge that thing." he simply stated. Dwight let out a little laugh that David found cute.

But, to the surprise of everyone, the Fog rolled in. It never rolled on so soon after a completed trial.

"Oh come on! We just finished one, you bastard!" David yelled out.

“It’s probably because of what happened last round.” Dwight sighed. None of them were in terrible condition or overly exhausted, but still. It would have been nice to have a longer break.

“I’m sure we’ll do fine like last time.” Jake assured.

“I just hope it’s not that doctor. He really creeps me out.” Feng said. The others agreed, and were taken by the Fog.

On the other side, they found themselves in a warm climate, a ghost town in the wild west. Dwight and Feng found themselves spawned near each other, and were quick to get working on a generator. As it neared completion, their hearts hastened as they heard the fear-inducing lullaby of The Huntress.

She was unbothered by the vastly different environment. She sniffed the air, and snapped her head in the direction of the generator. An axe was readied, and thrown in the direction of the generator.

“Run!” Dwight yelled as the generator announced its completion. An axe buried itself in the spot where he was. Feng was faster than him, so Dwight found himself the target of the killer once more. He cursed being fun to chase. He noticed that for some reason, the Huntress particularly liked to hunt him. He didn’t want to dwell on why.

He was eventually axed and downed in a single hit. He screamed when she yanked it out, revealing that its iridescent red color didn’t just come from his blood. She scooped him up in her arms and held him like a baby, resuming her song to try and comfort him. He tried to wiggle free, but it was harder than it looked. Sometimes, he wondered if the Entity even gave her any supernatural strength. He wouldn't be surprised if she didn’t. He was soon on the hook in a basement, crying in pain. She stood there for a moment to admire her work, or something, before leaving.

Dwight knew to wait for someone to unhook him. It was safer, even more so with David around. But basements were a more dangerous place to be when the Huntress was involved. She always seemed to know when someone was there. He figured that another generator or two had to be finished by the time he heard someone approaching. It generated a spark of hope that quickly dissipated as he heard her song.

And down the stairs came Feng, a wound in her shoulder, also in her arms like a baby too. As she screamed on the hook, the Huntress also winced, muttering something unintelligible before leaving.

“Hey Feng…”

“Hey…”

“How- Ack!” he cried as the hook moved a little in him.

“Fine.” she sighed, already knowing his question. “Two more gens. … I hate this place.”

“Yeah…”

They waited for a rescuer in the ambient silence of the basement. With two left, it would be easy to lure the Huntress far from the basement so they could be saved. Their hopes rose and fell, just as before. She came down singing with David slung over her shoulder. One of his arms appeared to be wounded.

“Fockin’ bitch!” he screamed as she tossed him onto the hook and left without a second glance at him. “I swear ’m gonna- Argh!” he yelled as the hook dug into him as we squirmed.

“Okay, let’s just, keep calm. Wait a few moments, and then we’ll try to free ourselves.”

“As you say luv.” David agreed. Feng hummed in agreement as well.

“So, how’s it hangin?” he dared to ask after waiting a little bit.

“Ughhh, you did not just say that.” Feng groaned.

“David, I swear!”

“Sorry…”

“You’re lucky I love you. Alright, on the count of three guys. One… Two… Three!” Dwight yelled as they tried to unhook themselves. Each of them failed, screaming in pain as they fell right back onto the hook, Entity’s claws showing up to induce more fear.

“It’s okay guys. It’s- It’s alright.” Dwight said, trying to sound calm himself even though he was not, panting, sweating, and a few tears breaking free. He didn’t want to feel that emptiness that even love could not stave away. Neither did the others. Then, the last generator sounded completion. A few moments later, Jake came hurrying down the stairs. The Huntress would surely be there soon.

He unhooked David first, who unhooked Dwight with one arm as Jake got Feng. They didn’t even bother to heal, not that it mattered when she could one shot them into dying this trial. But at the top of the steps she awaited. With a hunter’s cry, she threw an axe down the stairs, the survivors narrowly dodging it. Still, she sang her song and grinned a mad smile

Just when she was about to lunge at them, she shifted to block an attack from something. It was a dog. It chomped right through her axe handle. She wasn’t singing anymore. She quickly retaliated with a headbutt, knocking it away. She cast aside her broken axe with a snarl and lunged at the other beast. They wrestled each other to the ground, aiming for each other’s throats. Seeing their chance, the survivors took it and ran.

“I thought you said those things were demons?!” Dwight questioned as David carried him in one arm.

“Most a ‘em! The church ones ain’t the only ones to do protectin’.”

“Who cares! Let’s just hurry up and escape!” Jake yelled as he led the way.

They soon reached an exit gate and hurried to unlock it. About a third of the way through, they heard an animalistic yet human roar. She had won. Around her mouth was black blood. But, she did not come out unscathed. She bore many scratches, a number of them deep and flowing with dark red blood. Even half of her mask was broken, revealing a red iris surrounded by black.

“Come on come on hurry up!” Feng shouted at the switch as she ran towards them, laughing maniacally with an axe in hand. Their hearts were pounding, the knowledge that at least one of them was probably going to die about to set in. Jake took out the flash light to try and stun her, but fumbled and dropped it.

And out of nowhere, she was knocked to the ground by a blur of black. It was the black dog again. It was on top of her, and then in one swift motion, she was on top, and tore out it's throat with her bare hands. She tossed aside the flesh and fur and resumed her true hunt. She was only a few feet away when she fell forward, the dog’s maw mangling her ankle. She let out a scream as she tried to hit it with her axe, but missed. Then the alarm sounded and the gate opened.

“Go, go, go!” Jake ushered.

“Wait!” David shouted, and switched Dwight for Jake’s flashlight. He ran back, and aimed the light at the Huntress as she thrashed about. Once she was blinded, David whistled for the dog and patted his thigh to usher it to come.  It did, and ran beside David as they ran through the exit gate to the safety of the campfire.

David and Dwight laughed in celebration, the dog rejoicing with them. Feng breathed a sigh of relief as Jake mended her wound.

“Wanna refuse to acknowledge this one?” David joked as he ruffled the dog’s thick, dark fur. Jake finished patching up Feng, and went to go patch up David while Feng took care of Dwight

“Refuse to acknowledge what?” he asked, playing dumb. “There’s no such thing as a Black Dog, just black dogs.” Just as he was about to apply something to David’s arm, the dog growled at him, causing him to back away. The others lightly laughed.

“Alright, fine! … It’s real.” Jake told the dog. It seemed content with being acknowledged, so it let Jake do his work, proceeding to rest at David’s feet.

“So, what can you tell us about your dog, King?” Feng asked.

“Hmm… their name is Heir, being heir to the King’s throne an’ all. Fights like a King too!” he praised he he ruffled the dog's fur.

“You mean we’re keeping them?” Dwight asked with a bright smile.

“Well, I hope so.” David said as he continued to pet it. “Don’t think Heir’ll be goin’ to trials though. Pry for the best.”

“Aww, so cute! C’mere!” Dwight called. It got up and went to sit before Dwight. He let the dog sniff his hand, and it licked it before ploping back down in front of David. “Oh my god they like me!” Dwight squealed, looking like he was about to cry.

“‘Know I said most were demons. A few are good, like this little bloke ‘ere!” he praised as he scratched behind its ear, which it seemed to like. “Either protect a church, or guide the wayward. Fittin’.”

The Entity seemed to be willing to allow them the repose, since it didn’t quickly call them into a trial. Even after the next trial the dog remained by the fire, awaiting David’s return. If David were out in a trial, Dwight would oft find the dog at his feet, lounging around. The big, dark furball comforted other survivors after dreary trials, even if it too could not dissipate that empty feeling.

And even so, the trials soon became much more lively, as did the times round the fire

[angelsknife]

a different look into exile

what if exile is taylor talking to her fans, who she is afraid will leave her if she lived her truth, in this case, if she came out?

exile brings out a similar sound heard in a previous taylor swift collaboration the last time where there is a conversation being had between two people however one take on it that i haven’t seen yet (though correct me if i’m wrong) is that maybe exile is another song, similar to mirrorball, where she is talking to her fans (and her lover). i believe exile has more similar themes to the archer, another song where taylor brings up the idea of having something to tell us... but not being able to.

lets take this verse by verse

I can see you standing, honey With his arms around your body Laughin', but the joke's not funny at all And it took you five whole minutes To pack us up and leave me with it Holdin' all this love out here in the hall

I think this verse is definitely her lover (or ex lover) talking to her. There were clear signs that Taylor was going to come out during the Lover era, only to have to quickly pivot due to her masters issue (which is understandable). However, we all remember the build-up: Taylor was nervous the whole era, we all knew something was coming, the “friday calmness” selfie and then... nothing. Just like that the era ended. i feel this is her lover seeing taylor being forced to go back to the bearding and the lies. In a weekend, Taylor would have been free but instead she went back to “him” (her beard) and her coming out was cancelled. 

I think I've seen this film before And I didn't like the ending You're not my homeland anymore So what am I defending now? You were my town, now I'm in exile, seein' you out I think I've seen this film before 

Once the coming out plan had been cancelled, Taylor’s lover is now in exile. It is why I believe this song is about Karlie(whereas other songs may be about previous gfs). We see the way a good amount of swifties treat Karlie: they drag her through the mud, comment hate on her posts, and are often just downright mean. Taylor cancelling her coming out plans is the final nail in the coffin for Karlie (for now). Whereas if Taylor had come out, her connection to Karlie would be out in the open. Even if people believe they broke up, the connection to Taylor as someone who she clearly loved, would hopefully lessen the hate Karlie receives. Right now, we are still unsure if Taylor will ever come out. Maybe the lover era confirmed to Taylor that coming out will never be an option for her until she decides to slow down her music career. in that sense, “Karlie” is saying that she’s seen how this ends. she knows that this is a position she may always be in. 

I can see you starin', honey Like he's just your understudy Like you'd get your knuckles bloody for me Second, third, and hundredth chances Balancin' on breaking branches Those eyes add insult to injury

It’s here where I believe the shift happens. No longer is this a conversation between Taylor and Karlie (who she left behind) but now it is a conversation with Taylor and her fans. Swifties are fiercely loyal to Taylor and would get their “knuckles bloody” for Taylor. Taylor did this through creating a bond of trust between her and her fans. However, if she comes out, she ultimately lied to her fans... something that may break this bond of trust. 

I think if Taylor comes out swifties will accept her, and they will support her, but i think they will wonder why it took so long or why Taylor was so afraid of their reaction. We know a lot of swifties see Taylor like a friend that they know in real life (even though they don’t). When Taylor refers to “second third and hundredth chances” she’s talking about how many times she debated coming out. This is similar to the theme in the archer that we see in the line I've got a hundred thrown-out speeches I almost said to you. 

She has wrestled with the idea of coming out for a long time, however she just couldn’t bring herself to do it because her career is in the balance. Seeing her fans trust her and be so loyal to her, hurts her, because in the end she cannot be truthful about something that truly makes her, her. It’s the eyes of her young fans who look up to her and the older fans who trust her adding insult to injury.

I think I've seen this film before And I didn't like the ending

Like I said before, if Taylor comes out, I think overall swifties will be accepting even if they were against the idea before. While some swifties will decide to leave, I think Taylor will receive an overall warm reaction to her coming out.

 However, this is a big decision and it is completely understandable that she is afraid. The film she is referring to, is similar to the “heroes” she refers to in the archer. She has seen what happens to people when they come out. 

She has seen the effects it has on their career and on their lives. She has seen others who can never come out (like she is afraid will happen to her) and must accept being alone forever. It’s why I think Ellen had a large role in the Lover era. Whatever your opinion of Ellen, many forget that she lost her career when she first came out as a lesbian. This is the “ending” Taylor doesn’t like. She doesn’t want to remain alone, but she doesn’t want to lose everything she worked for. 

I'm not your problem anymore So who am I offending now?

I think this might be referring to Big Machine and maybe her old fanbase?  We all know Big Machine most likely pushed her into hiding her sexuality in order to make it big. I’m sure she must have heard something along the lines that her coming out might “offend” people. Here she is talking to Big Machine telling them she is not their problem and therefore she can’t “offend” anyone anymore. Her old fanbase before she shifted to “pop” is often reported as feeling left behind by her. 

You were my crown, now I'm in exile, seein' you out I think I've seen this film before So I'm leaving out the side door

Taylor is extremely grateful to her fans as she always lets us know. But she is also grateful to her old fans. They are what put her here, and they are her “crown” so to speak. But if she comes out, there is still the chance that her career will take a hit and there is still the chance that people feel betrayed by her. Additionally she will once again be joining her lover that she left behind in exile. However, she’s “seen this film before” and takes the easy way out (the side door) and puts her coming out plans on hold. 

So step right out, there is no amount Of crying I can do for you

I’ve skipped ahead here, since I don’t want to go over things too much more than once. But here is where the “conversation” happens. I think these lines are Taylor’s lover again because you do not hear Taylor’s voice at all in the background. She’s urging Taylor to come out. To step into the daylight and let it go. It’s not that she can’t sympathize with Taylor but she’s tired of being in the dark too. The time for crying has passed, it’s time to take action. 

All this time We always walked a very thin line

If you listen closely, you hear Taylor’s voice again here, which is why I believe that this is addressed to the fans again. Taylor is referring to how fickle fans of any artist can be in general. She learned the hard way during reputation, when she felt that so many of her supporters dropped her. She knows success is fleeting, and that her relationship with her fans (especially her less hardcore fans that listen to her from time to time) can be lost in an instant. 

You didn't even hear me out (Didn't even hear me out) You never gave a warning sign (I gave so many signs)

I think this is mostly self-explanatory, but I think this is referring to how there is a clear disconnect between some of her fans and Taylor. While there are people who believe Taylor isn’t straight (I’m here right now aren’t I?) the majority of her fans do not really think about these things (which is fine.) Maybe we as fans, aren’t really listening to her. But maybe we also feel that she isn’t listening to us. 

When she comes out, the first question everyone will ask is how “no one” knew. How was she able to hide this for so long considering she is known for “writing songs about her boyfriends”? Her fans are going to be surprised and she is saying that she gave so many signs we just chose not to see them.

All this time I never learned to read your mind (Never learned to read my mind)

I personally love this line because of the amount of layers it has. Taylor shares so much of herself in her music, that it is unsurprising that her fans feel a sense of kinship to her to the point that they feel they know her inner most thoughts. Taylor even released her diaries during the Lover era, furthering this idea that swifties know everything about her. However, despite the fact that Taylor revealed so much in her music, her fans never learned to read her mind or properly analyze her music. They never were able to crack the true meaning and muses behind her music. 

I couldn't turn things around (You never turned things around) 'Cause you never gave a warning sign (I gave so many signs so many times)

Once again, he is emphasizing the point that she gave so many signs. She dropped so many hints, especially in the Lover era. The delicate speeches, rainbow dresses, You Need to Calm Down, Me! Out Now, the rainbow theme throughout Lover. Then there were the more “secretive” signs: the secret moments, dancing with her hands tied, the original gorgeous lyrics, and the fact that A Portrait of a Lady on Fire seems to be her inspiration for much of folklore. A movie about a woman being able to be free and honest about her love for another woman through.... her art, and her “muse” being “free” through her art as well. 

You never gave a warning sign (All this time) I never learned to read your mind (So many signs) I couldn't turn things around (I couldn't turn things around) 'Cause you never gave a warning sign (You never gave a warning sign) You never gave a warning sign Ah, ah

I think it’s interesting here how she changes from “you never turned things around” to “I couldn’t turn things around.” Maybe she blames herself somewhat for the way this secret kind of balled up and became so big over time. Maybe she is answering the question of whether or not she can just stay closeted forever. She’s saying no. She can’t turn things around and she can’t make things different. This is who she is. 

[shadowofthelamp]

The Old Friend

Summary: While stopping for some food, Sylvia and Wander happen to hear a story, and Wander recognizes the storyteller- another one of his species he knew from a long time ago.

Rating: G

Wordcount: 1605

AO3 link

Feedback through tags or comments/replies is super duper appreciated, and since tumblr is mucking around with tags, reblogs really help! Here’s a picture of the character, btw.

Sylvia had seen a lot over the past few years she'd been traveling the galaxy with Wander. Creatures from the size of a pin to the size of a planet, with problems and solutions large and small.

One thing she'd never seen, though, was another one of Wander's species.

Wander hadn't said much about it, and she hadn't pressed- species were sometimes spread thin or became endangered, after all, and it was possible he didn't like talking about it. She wasn't about to drag up painful memories when she had more than enough of her own.

"The hall shimmered with golden vines, nature having overtaken parts of the temple. However, there were still intricate designs mapped over the walls, and it didn't take long for Quincen to decode the runes."

However, when stopping on a nearby planet for food, she'd spotted someone who looked shockingly like Wander. Same color, same general shape, same fur- however, while Wander's eyes were deep brown, this creature's were blue, and it had a large loopy curl above them. It also had on a sleeveless turtleneck sweater, with scruffy orange fur poking out the bottom the same way shirts always did on Wander, almost like a skirt. The one big difference, though, was that it wasn't wiry like Wander- it was more rounded, with a thicker torso and limbs.

Sylvia hadn't intended to stop, but realized she had when her feet dug into dirt. Wander turned to see where she was looking, and his eyes widened as his mouth spread into a grin.

“Well, I’ll be darned!” He slid off of her back. “I haven’t seen them in ages!”

“You know them?” Sylvia said.

“Sure do. It’s been a long, long loooong time, though.” Wander walked over and plopped down near the back of the crowd, crossing his legs. Sylvia followed- the person did seem to be telling a good story.

They wove a tale of ancient artifacts being stolen from off-planet, then returned to their rightful place within the temple. She found herself getting swept up in the excited performance as they gestured with a pen, turning it into everything from a sword to an umbrella and grappling hook. Wander was clearly hanging on to every word.

At the end, a few people tossed coins into their bag, and they smiled. “The best payment will be if you share the story with others!”

When they closed their bag and moved to leave, Wander hurried up. “Goodness, you’ve barely changed! Still telling your stories?”

“Still helping people?” They smiled. “Dusty?”

Wander shook his head. “Wander, and he. What name do you go by these days?”

“Pen, but it used to be Muse. I liked that one, but people got the wrong idea. I prefer to learn the stories, not inspire them. It’s still she.”

“Both are quite fittin’ for you, either way.” Wander waved to Sylvia, urging her closer. “This here is Sylvia, the best friend this side of the cosmos.”

“Oh! It’s lovely to meet you!” Pen held out her hand with a smile, blue bracelets clanking about on her wrist, and Sylvia shook it.

“So you two... grew up together or something? I don't think I've ever met somebody that looked like Wander.” Sylvia guessed, and the two shared a glance.

“You could say that. How much have you told Sylvia?” Pen asked.

“Not a whole lot, but my past ain’t important.” Wander said.

Sylvia had wondered more than once, of course, (especially after learning where he got the Hat) but Wander could be infuriatingly tight-lipped whenever she tried to ask.

“Well, we did know each other as children.” She smiled. “I’ll let him tell you when he’s ready. It was lovely to meet you, though. Thank you for listening, today's was one of my favorites.”

“Are there more of you?” Sylvia blurted out, and Pen tilted her head.

“We’re scattered, but it’s hard to really get rid of us.” She grinned. “We all have our ways of keeping busy. I share stories, so that people who cannot tell them themselves are remembered. I know one who devoted themselves to learning botany on every planet they come across to help keep the environments clean. What really unites us is just that we don’t particularly like to stay in one place.” She held out her arms, and Wander let out a little happy squeak before rushing into them, pulling her into a tight hug.

She hugged him back with the same ferocity. “I’ve heard about your good deeds. The universe needs you, especially at a time like this. That Dominator's such a mess, aren't they? But things will work out... eventually. They always do.”

"Do you want to have lunch with us?" Sylvia asked, and Pen blinked.

"I... would like that very much." She smiled. "Thank you."

They found their way to a diner, Wander chattering the whole way and Pen listening with rapt attention.

"You're much braver than I could ever be." She toyed at her bracelets. "I know it's difficult to get hurt, but..." She leaned in close, but Sylvia could just barely hear her. "Don't you worry about your friend?"

"Nah, Syl's great at gettin' herself outta trouble!" Wander said easily. "Heck, she rescues me more than anything!"

"I'm glad you found someone to keep you company, then." She smiled and pulled back as Wander held the door open for her and Sylvia, the bell tingling above their heads.

The shop was bustling, and Wander asked what sandwiches they wanted before heading up to the register as Sylvia and Pen sat down in a booth.

"How long ago did you two know each other?"

"A long time." Pen said simply. "I won't say much, but I will say that Wander has always been high energy and prone to trouble. I'm glad he found you- he's better when someone's there to keep his head on his shoulders."

"Don't I know it." Sylvia leaned back. "Nice to know he isn't the last of his kind. Always kinda worried about that."

"He isn't, but it's not very often someone sees more than one or two of us. We spread out pretty far, once we grow up. Often it's one to a galaxy." She used a little straw to draw patterns in the spilled salt on the table. "I didn't think I'd see him again for a long time, but go far enough and you end up near where you began. Although by then, everything's changed."

"Here ya go!" Wander had procured plates as well, and settled down next to Sylvia. They all dug in, Wander and Pen exchanging tales of galaxies Sylvia hadn't even heard of.

"And then, they tried to tear up my sweater because clothes were illegal there!" Pen laughed. "I took it off as soon as I realized of course, but that sure was a tense few hours."

"We'd do fine there!" Wander grinned. "Have you ever been to Bingleborp? Their festival-"

"Isn't it the cutest thing?" She interrupted. "Those carnival games are so fun, and they're all so happy."

"I know, right!" Wander finished off his sandwich.

"Do you have anywhere to be?" Pen asked, tilting her head.

"We kinda go wherever." Sylvia said. "We really just stopped here for the food."

"Ah." Pen said. "That makes sense. I don't usually have much of a plan either. I've been here for about two weeks and I'm about ready to move on. We're lucky that we met. It was nice catching up with you." She'd finished her food as well, and set the little plate on the pile on top of the trash can. Wander grabbed Sylvia's and set it on top of his own before doing the same.

They headed outside the diner, and she did a little curtsy. “I’m sure our paths will cross again, even if our experiences made us slightly different people by then.”

Wander tipped his hat. “Hope the stars will take you somewhere real nice.”

She smiled. “And may they keep you safe. You'll need it.” She tugged her messenger bag over her shoulder and pulled out a container of Orbble juice, and they watched her pull out a pencil and notebook as she drifted off into the sky, scribbling down something they'd couldn't see.

"So, gonna tell me how you know her?" Sylvia asked as Wander hopped up on her back.

"We were kids together. I might have kinda sorta maybe gotten into trouble sometimes, and she was always writing everything down, whatever it was."

"You might have gotten into trouble sometimes. What a shock." Sylvia said, turning back to face him and rolling her eyes even as she smiled. "I'll get the whole story out of you one day."

"It's nothing to fuss over." Wander waved a hand, using the other to grip Sylvia's reins. "I grew up on a ship in space, when I got old enough, I left, same as anyone."

"A ship?"

"A big one." Wander said. "No different from growin' up on a planet."

"Huh. Somehow I always figured you popped out when a star went supernova or something." Sylvia said with a little shrug.

"Aw, that'd be amazing!" Wander laughed. "Nice seein' her around, though. I'm never lonely with you around, Syl, but..."

"But there's something about family and old friends, I know." Sylvia finished. Look how easily she’d slid back in with Ryder, after all, and he was a much worse influence than this Pen. 

Wander pulled the Orbble juice out of his hat, pulling the bubble around them in one practiced motion without Sylvia even breaking her stride. They headed off into the stars, and the weight on her back (what little there was, Wander was such a pipsqueak) made her smile at the thought of friends old and new.

[theshapeshifter100]

Guess What? I‘m Not a Robot Ch40

Summary: Everyone can finally chill, take stock, talk to family. Then there’s a knock at the door.

Chapter Warnings: Mentions of injury and being shot. One (?) f-bomb.

Word Count: 1,745

09.45AM Friday 12th November 2038

She unlocked the door and let the boys in. It felt weird to back. The whole world had changed since she and Paul had left, and yet the apartment was still the same as they’d left it.

“Alright,” Megan set about introducing the place to Oscar. “Bathroom’s there, kitchen there. That door there is my bedroom and I’d appreciate it if you didn’t go in there.”

As she did this Paul went to check the taps and lights. The lights flickered on dimly but the tap made a horrible gurgling sound with no water appearing.

“We’re on generator power. Great,” Megan sighed. “We’ll just have to deal with it.”

She turned her attention to the landline phone and sighed, seeing that it was blinking with several messages. She went over to play them over one by one.

“Megan,” it was her mother. “Things sound like they’re getting pretty dangerous in Detroit. Stay safe okay? Call me back.”

The next one was also from her mom, and the next, and the next. Each one becoming more and more hysterical.

The second to last one was from her brother, saying that he’d picked up movement in his college with Android Allies and was hoping to keep protesting and harbouring androids as best he could.

The final one was actually from the Beckwiths.

“Megan dear, we hope you get this. We made it to my sister’s and Anita is safe. Don’t you worry. You and Paul take care of each other now. Okay? Stay safe.”

With a long sigh and a bit of preparation as the boys puttered around in the background, Megan called her parents.

“Megan Violet Carroll!” her mom screamed down the phone, making her pull the receiver away from her ear. “Do you have any idea how worried we’ve been?!”

“I can probably guess,” Megan spoke before she thought, and quickly realised that now was not the time for a smart answer.

“We’ve been worried sick! Especially with all the phones down. What the hell were you thinking, protesting illegally?! I never thought you’d be one to break the law! We’re booking a flight for you to come home right now!”

Megan felt sick, but did something that she felt like she needed to. “You don’t need to do that.”

“Yes I do. And I know airports make you anxious sweetheart but we’ll put that in the extra requirements and we can have someone meet you.”

“No. You really don’t have to. I, I don’t want you to.”

“Megan? What are you saying?”

“I’m staying in Detroit.”

“No you most certainly are not! The entire city’s a warzone! Buildings destroyed, people fleeing in terror-”

Megan interrupted her mother for the first time in many years. “Well I’m looking out of the window right now and not a single building has been damaged and people are leaving in an orderly fashion.”

“What about these androids-?!”

“They haven’t hurt anyone. Not a single human life was lost in this entire revolution. Detroit is safe.”

“Young lady, in case you haven’t realised there’s an evacuation order!”

“I’ve broken one law. I’m happy breaking another. See you later mom.”

“Megan! Don’t you dare-!”

Megan hung up the phone and took a deep breath to steady herself. Her stomach roiled in protest and she felt her legs wobble, but overall, she was okay.

Before her mom could call her back, she called her brother.

“Hey James,” she said after he’d picked up.

“Hi Megs, still in Detroit?”

“Yep, still on campus?”

“Just about. I hid under the bed when security came round. They don’t know I’m here.”

“Cool, I’m guessing mom demanded that you come home?”

“Oh yeah. I shut her down though. You?”

“Same here. She was not happy. How’s AA your end?”

“Pretty good. Some guys had to go home but most of us are still here. What about you? I saw you on the news.”

“Yeah. Most of us are still here. Alex was arrested. I don’t know what we’re going to do about that,” the pain killers had worn off about an hour ago, and she shifted her shoulder uncomfortably, wincing audibly.

“You okay?” James asked and Megan couldn’t bring herself to lie.

“Had a run in with the military for the protest and harbouring an illegal android. I, I got shot.”

“What?! Shouldn’t you be in hospital?!”

“What hospital? They’re all closed,” Megan rebuked. “One of the guys knows first aid and can sew. I’m stitched up pretty nicely.”

“Good, that’s good. Don’t do anything too reckless, okay?”

“You’re telling me not to be reckless?”

“Well, given what you’ve just told me...”

“True true,” Megan agreed. “How are you doing anyway?”

“Me? I’m fine. Not shot anyway.”

“I mean, mentally. Are you okay? I know this might not be a good time to talk, but...”

“...it’s okay. I’ve got other things to focus on. I’ll figure it out when everything dies down okay?”

“James,” Megan warned, feeling big sister mode kicking in.

“I’m fine. College was a bit of a shock, that was all. I’m fine.”

“Alright,” Megan sighed, not believing him but too tired to push. “I’ll call you later, okay?”

“Sure. Love you.”

“Love you too.” Megan hung up, that phone having been a lot better than with her mom. Final call was to the Beckwiths. It went to voicemail, so Megan left a message.

“Hey, just letting you know that I’m okay. Me and Paul are okay and I’m glad to hear Anita’s good. Hope you three stay safe. Don’t worry about calling back. I have a feeling that things might get a bit busy. Bye.”

Megan hung up and turned to face the rest of the apartment. Paul had moved some of his stuff from the couch so that Oscar could sit down, and the android was now pottering around the kitchen.

“Paul, what are you doing?” Megan asked.

“Making breakfast,” he replied, checking bread, bacon and eggs. They seemed to satisfy him and he got to work.

“Need help?” Megan asked, already knowing the answer.

“How about you read a book?” Paul suggested. “I’ll ask Oscar if I need help.”

Megan sighed, nodded and did as he suggested, sitting in her desk chair. It felt so good to sit there again.

There was silence for a while before Oscar broke it.

“So, now what?” he asked. “We’re just going to hole out here?”

“For the time being,” Paul replied as bacon sizzled. “We will need to do a supply run sooner or later, and deal with Alex. We should have gotten Lieutenant Anderson’s phone number, then we could have gotten him to get them out.”

“Hindsight is 20/20,” Megan commented, nose deep in her book.

Oscar shifted uncomfortably. He wanted to do something, but all he could think of was watching tv, and they were on limited power.

“Oscar,” Paul started, sensing his restlessness. “I would suggest calling your parents.”

Oscar nodded, and got up to do just that.

The whole thing was very calm, very domestic. Almost a complete contrast to the last few days. If you ignored the hand guns the boys had placed on the coffee table.

Morning soon past into afternoon, and everyone was startled by a knock at the door.

2PM Friday 12th November 2038

Everyone stopped what they were doing and looked at each other. Paul grabbed and cocked a gun before approaching the door and looking through the fish eye hole.

“Lieutenant Anderson?” he opened the door to reveal the titular detective.

“Finally!” he stated. “I was starting to wonder if you were even in.”

“What are you doing here?” Paul asked, angling himself so that he couldn’t see into the apartment. Or the gun he was holding.

“Thought ya might want to know about your friend. They got released today, on account of bigger fish to fry.”

“Okay, thank you for that information,” Paul responded. “It seems like you went to an awful lot of trouble for this detective.”

“Yeah, ya got me. That ain’t the only reason I’m here,” Anderson rocked back and forth on his heels. “Mind if I come in? It’s freezing in this corridor.”

Paul looked his shoulder at Megan, who nodded reluctantly. He stepped back to let in the detective.

”Damn tiny place you got here,” he commented, Paul closing the door behind him.

“It was designed for one person,” Megan’s snark was there, but was muted in the presence of a near stranger.

“I can tell,” Anderson continued to rock on his heels. “Anyway, you guys seem to be the main pro android group in the city right now, huh?”

“I, guess,” Oscar responded with a shrug. “No one else seems to be organised.”

“Exactly, and ya say this Alex is yer leader?”

“More or less,” Paul responded cautiously, wondering where this was going.

“Look, I know Connor, and I know he’s gotten in good with the deviants, so I figured that I could talk to ‘im and see if we could set up a meeting between your guys and Markus.”

Megan made a noise that sounded like a cat coughing up a hair ball, and Oscar’s mouth fell open.

“Are you certain about this detective?” Paul asked, the only one able to regain his cognitive faculties.

“Not really, but I can try. Besides, it would be good for them to meet pro android folks who aren’t politicians. Plus, you can be with other androids if ya want,” he aimed that last part at Paul, who narrowed his eyes.

“I’m not sure that I do.”

“Eh, whatever,” Anderson shrugged. “You do you. I’m just putting the offer out there. I didn’t get a chance to tell yer friend, and you’re the only other guys I know.”

“We will pass it on,” Paul assured.

“Great! Er, here’s my phone number, just in case,” since Paul was closest he handed it to him, and Paul copied down Megan’s landline and cell phone number.

“Alright,” Anderson made his way back towards the door. “I’ll, er, be in touch.”

“Thank you Lieutenant,” Paul responded, since no one else seemed to feel like talking.

“Call me Hank. This is unofficial after all,” the detective attempted a smile, and seemed to fall a little flat. “Be seein’ ya,” with that he left.

A few seconds after the door fell shut Megan stared at Paul.

“...Did that just happen?”

“Yes. I do believe that it did.”

“Fuck.”

“Indeed.”

Well, I guess Hank showed up sooner than I remembered.

I'm admittedly not too fond of where the story goes from here. It seems like a natural continuation to me, but it feels, I don't know, too convenient. At the same time, I don't know how to make it better without dragging it out, so I've left it as is. Other Options Flowchart

(Megan) Be blunt. Be sincere. Be sarcastic to her mother's worries.

(Megan) Be firm. Be hesitant. Be rude with her mother.

(Megan) Lie to James about the injury

(Megan) Press James about his mental health.

(Paul) Leave the gun.

Tags! @nightmarejim @nightmarejim

[stark-mercy]

A short modern au gendrya fic I wrote for a friend. May be more depending how I’m feeling.

Gendry Waters swore lightly. He stared at the bottom side of this car, knowing the problem, seeing it with his own two eyes, but certainly not having any clue how to fix it. He could hear the gentle tapping on the tire behind him as Arya swung her legs, and perched on the hood as she was that involved kicking the tire. “What’s wrong?” She asked, assumably having heard his expletive. He shook his head, not crawling out from underneath the car. No reason to, not as of yet.

“It’s just an annoyin’ fix,” He commented. He could practically hear the nod from Arya. She had been oddly silent this afternoon. Gendry could not say why. Since coming across the girl it was like he couldn’t get her to shut up. Not that he wanted her to, it was nice to hear her talk. Act normal around him.

A few moments passed in that exact silence before Arya asked the question Gendry had been waiting for, knowing it would come. ”Can I do anything?” Gendry quickly responded, asking for a certain material and a certain tool, which she retrieved quick enough before returning to her position atop the hood. She was well-versed at this point in names and such of everything, and probably knew at least a little about under the hood work given how much time she spent around here. He’d prodded her on occasions and gotten little of what he wanted from her in terms of a reason why. Essentially it just boiled down to that she didn’t like the rest of her existence. But it wasn’t even that. Gendry didn’t know. Perhaps it was that Gendry was a factor she could control. Gendry had ascertained that she was wealthy, though by the gods did she hide it, and he knew enough of high society to know that they were busy people, busy at least with things like studies and work and parties and those things wealthy people do with those people wealthy people do them with. So it was nice for her to just hang he supposed. Gendry cared little for her reasoning really, just taking solace in her companionship.

She wasn’t saying much of anything and Gendry found that eerie. Again, she talked a lot, though he’d noticed that the moment someone else entered the conversation she would generally clam up. Not into silence, but no longer the stream of consciousness. He rolled out from underneath the car and looked up, tracing up her legs past an untied sneaker and ripped jeans. He found her face which looked down into a phone screen. “Wut’s up?” He asked her, and she flipped, switching the phone off and moving backwards across the hood, tucking the phone close to her body. Gendry chuckled and she swore at him. “You ain’t normally on yer phone round ‘ere. Wut’s up today?” He asked, knowing there must be some kind of drama occupying her attention. Gendry was rarely a part of that anymore, he… didn’t have much in the way of friends or companionship, not among peers at least.

“It’s nothing.” She asserted, though Gendry raised an eyebrow. That wasn’t really convincing, not given the terseness in her tone. Arya breathed heavily, brushing a hair back from her face in a way Gendry found attractive, not to say he wasn’t fond of the wildness of her hair in her face. Fuck, he needed to focus on his actual friend and not an ill-composed fantasy. “Boy trouble. None of your business.” Gendry’s heart didn’t skip a beat so much as just shut down. He grimaced, and rolled under the car again.

“Oh.” He gave a simple response. Hence why the fantasy was not worth even thinking about. She was a couple years younger than him and in the midst of her studies and had a whole different crowd of friends or associates if that was what rich people called people they knew. Worthless. He went back to work, and silence again ate them up. Not to say he wasn’t comfortable in it, but in this instance… It was awkward and Gendry didn’t like that very much. “I’m a boy. I could help.” Ugh this would suck. This would suck. But he didn’t have much choice did he? Well, he did have a choice in the matter, but he’d made this one. He could help his dear friend Arya get a guy of her choosing. No. Big. Deal. She paused for awhile, not saying anything.

“I don’t think a guy likes me as more than a friend.” She answered, and Gendry shook his head, though he was invisible underneath the car. How could anyone not think of Arya that way? She was hands-down the best girl he’d ever met. “And I would very much like him to.” Gendry breathed deeply. Why was he giving her this advice? Why was he not just owning up to her here and now? But why would he? Obviously she had no interest in the poor mechanic else why would she be talking to him about getting another guy?

“Be upfront with him. Assumin’ the guy doesn’t already have a girl, that’s enough to knock sense inta most o’ us. Possible he just ain’t seein’ yer flirting for what it is. We’re pretty dumb most the time.” Arya scoffed for a moment, as if agreeing with that perception. Another long pause, and Gendry wondered if she was messaging the guy now. Was she doing exactly what he’d said to right here, right now? He didn’t know how he felt about that. For one thing it made him irrationally angry that someone else was getting Arya Stark’s affection in his garage, for another, it made him content that Arya trusted his advice.

“And if I… I’m too shy I guess?” She asked. Gendry’s brow furrowed, and he rolled himself out again. He sat up once out from underneath the car, and looked to Arya, who bit her lip just a tad which again was so crazy hot. But focus. What she’d just said was unbelievable to him, for if there was one thing that had been made abundantly clear in the months since he’d known Arya it was that she was not shy. It was that she took what she wanted with no prisoners.

“You are Arya fucking Stark last I ‘eard, so I dun think that’ll be a problem.” He told her. She seemed to grow more nervous at this, before turning away from him and slipping off the hood of the car. Gendry stood so that he could still see her though she was on the other side of the car from him. Arya was considering something for a moment longer, before making a decision, he could tell when she did that, commit. Her entire demeanor changed, becoming more sure of herself than he’d ever seen anyone else.

“Gendry Waters I’d like to go out with you.” She affirmed. Gendry watched her, eyes blinking, and she stood firm, straight as a nail though her full height was easily a few heads below his, staring straight back. Then he began to laugh, a chuckle that originated from the belly and flew upward, out of his mouth like a weapon. “What the fuck you shithead! I did exactly as you said!” She shouted, growing angry at him in a flash. Gendry waved a hand, trying to get her to calm down but it was far too late for him as she rounded the car and shoved him in the chest. He was pushed backwards, reclaiming his balance by putting a hand on the car. He breathed deeply as she stared at him, her eyes full of more wrath than anything he’d ever seen.

“I just… I can’t believe that you thought I only liked you as a friend.” He told her, a small smile coming to his lips. She watched him, and he stared back, before she shook her head turning away from him, muttering something about him being stupid. Gendry’s grin spread.

“Tomorrow. 4. In the morning because fuck you. Pick me up. Don’t tell a goddamn soul.” Gendry couldn’t care less about her conditionals. He was riding some form of euphoria that Arya Stark was into him and he into her and life was good as far as he was concerned. Consequences? Oh to be sure. But they were not for today. He whistled as he moved back to work, the hard fix not even clouding his mind as Arya got a ride from her sister and vanished.

[variationalpokemonbreeder]

Life of a Breeder - 4

 She had fed the little ones and had seen to it that the troughs in the barns had enough food in them to last a few days. The next part of the routine revolved around checking on the crops. Like many breeders, she grew a steady supply of berries on her property. The Pokemon were free to snack at them as they saw fit. The berries were for private use, not typically for commercial sale; although she would sell excess berries from time to time, when she knew that the only other option would be letting them go to waste. Typically she would only wind up with a couple pounds of berries that she had no use for; so whenever she did need to sell them, they would go to another breeder who would be able to put them to good use. Sometimes she would wind up selling to a private chef looking to prepare a proper meal for their employer; but she had never sold anything to a chain.

 The crops grew behind the barns, in a fenced off space. The fence was really just something that she used to establish the borders of her planting space. The fence itself had been built less than a foot high and was composed entirely of wood. Completely unsuitable for making any attempts at keeping regular animals away, yet alone Pokemon. She stepped over the fence with ease and began to walk around the border of the crops. She had three different types of berries growing, along with some fruits and vegetables for personal consumption; not that the Pokemon would leave alone anything that appeared even remotely edible. A faint chuckle escaped her at the feel of her leg being pet. The Weavile had decided to follow her around for a while longer. Possibly in hopes of being given a little something extra from the garden. There was bound to be a few crops that she was reluctant to share.

 Typically the only ‘closed off’ crops were the ones that she was specifically growing to use for herself. They were usually plants that she was reluctant to share, in the sense of not allowing her Pokemon to freely access them as they grew and ripened. These select crops were kept secluded. She used wire and wood to build domes about them for the sake of deterring Pokemon. The addition to this being that she would spray repel in the general area of those specific crops, just to be sure that her Pokemon would be much less willing to try and go after her food. When there was such a variety available, something being off limits hardly added enough incentive to go after something painted with a nasty substance which irritated virtually every sense. She already had a faint idea as to what the Weavile might be after. She had a special type of potato growing that they seemed to have taken a liking to.

 She grew the traditional potatoes for her Pokemon to enjoy; they were large, nutritious tubers with a thick brown skin that she usually had to peel away prior to consumption. The red potatoes, which she had decided to keep to herself, were much smaller and had an exceptionally thin skin that she could eat without issue. She could prepare them in whatever way she liked; they were a frequent part of her diet. She would share the red potatoes from time to time when she had prepared more than she would eat in a sitting. Some of her Pokemon appeared to prefer them to the typical brown potatoes that she allowed them to eat. Her basic assumption being that they liked the thinner skin better. Then again, if it wasn’t the potatoes, then chances were it was the carrots. Her Weavile appeared to be particularly fond of carrots, although she had little idea as to why.

 She had not managed to get any information to verify that the creatures had a history of partaking in that particular root vegetable out in the wild. There were bound to be some differences between the natural diet and the domesticated, but even then. She had little idea as to why a predatory Pokemon might enjoy a root vegetable so much. Perhaps they simply instinctively enjoyed the dense calories that came with eating carrots and potatoes, and other such root vegetables.

 “Silly things, let me walk~ I might trip with you catchin’ my legs like that.” She mused, slowing down as she walked so that she could look back at her companions without unintentionally tripping over her own feet. The Weavile each offered an affectionate noise as they dropped their paws against their sides, making it clear that they would stop trying to hook her pants on their claws. She laughed to herself as she turned to walk between two rows of berry bushes. She expected that they would be set for a proper harvest sometime within the next few days. She just needed to have a look how many berries had been left behind for her to collect. Surprisingly enough, most of the bushes seemed to be at peak production period. Her Pokemon must not have been interested in eating them, considering they were the same type of berry that was found in their feet.

 By rough estimate, she would wind up getting about ten pounds worth of berries. Depending on how many eggs she hatched come the next breeding cycle in a month, she would probably be using about nine pounds of berries to make her special formula. So as long as the Pokemon refrained from over-indulging today, she would have a nice sized harvest come tomorrow.

 “S’a nice garden you’ve got growing here~” A voice called out to her out of seemingly nowhere, proving to be enough to make her jump out of her boots. Figuratively not literally, thankfully; but still. Considering that she was closed today and there was absolutely no reason for someone to be out in her garden, it would come as a natural shock to suddenly wind up with company. Having gone completely frigid for a split second, the woman snapped her head around to try and find the source of the voice. What she found was a young man casually standing at the end of of plot, staring towards her with an unusually content smile spread across their features. Unnerved by the casual appearance of the stranger, the woman straightened herself out and proceeded to walk towards them. Each step being stiff to a degree, due to having become anxious. Why had the Pokemon not alerted her to the arrival of this man?

 “I appreciate the complement.” The woman said flatly, attempting to keep a calm and formal tone to her voice as she made her way over to the unexpected guest. She put conscious effort into refraining from crossing her arms, or putting her hands in her pockets. Call it an anxious habit. She was prone to trying to occupy her hands whenever she was feeling uneasy; and at some point in the past, someone had commented on it being an obvious tell. She did not enjoy it when people understood that she was anxious around them. Being aware of her fear meant that they would be able to take the steps needed to push her into a corner.  “But in case you didn’t see, I’m closed right now. I wont be open for breedin’ requests, sales, or trades, until the weekend. So I’ll have to ask you to leave and come back later, seein’ as there’s no point in you bein’ here.” She offered a very simple request onto the male. One which she expected him to comply with. As it were, she would be very willing to ask her Pokemon to escort them off of her land if they refused to comply. She had been closed for the past two weeks while she cared for the Riolu that she had produced this season. Come the weekened she expected that they would be healthy enough to start spending some time outside with the other Pokemon. That was when she would start looking into some requests and the like. The male merely offered a soft hum and crossed their arms behind their back as they peered down at her. She came to stand directly in front of him, not being one to easily ignore when someone was trespassing on her land. Clients were one thing; but no one was allowed out in her garden area without prior permission.

 “You’re a bit shorter than I thought you’d be~” The male commented, appearing to have completely overlooked her request for the sake of making that observation. The woman felt her cheeks heat up ever so slightly upon hearing the comment, and she mentally grit her teeth as she struggled to retain a calm expression. She was well aware of her short stature, and very much disliked it whenever someone called attention to it.

 “I’m aware of my height, sir. Please refrain from pointin’ that out again.” She retorted, putting her hands behind her back so that she could ball her fingers into fists. Her nails dug into the palm of her hand ever so slightly, but she did well to ignore the discomfort. If anything, it helped her to better focus on the task at hand.  “Now, again. Please leave. I’m not takin’ any clients right now.” She repeated, feeling the need to make it clear to the man that his presence was not welcomed. The male offered a laugh at this, and shook his head.

 “No can do, Ma’am. I went through a lot to get all the way out here, and I don’t plan on leaving anytime soon~” The man retorted, shifting his arms so that he could lock his hands behind his head in a casual display. The woman found herself folding her hands together behind her back in an attempt at keeping calm. She was not anxious anymore, thankfully; but it was unfortunate that that uneasiness had been replaced by anger.

 “Sir, I’ll apologize for the inconvenience that gettin’ her has caused you, but I repeat. I’m closed right now, and I need you to leave. Do not make me ask you again.” She repeated herself for the last time, and then offered the male one final warning. If he refused to leave still, then she would ask the Weavile to make him leave. At this point if they hurt him she could tell the authorities that it was self defense, and that he had been trespassing and refused to leave after multiple requests. Legally she aught to be in the clear if her Pokemon had to rough him up a little to make him leave.

 “Hey, is the Dragonite here yet? If I’m right about today then he aught to be here.” The male inquired, having completely ignored her request for a third time. The woman’s jaw dropped ever so slightly at this, having been completely caught off guard by such an idiotic comment. Not only had he refused to leave despite the warnings; he was babbling about a Pokemon that she had not been given any means of acquiring. Was he here to make fun of her? To try and cause a scene to give her establishment a bad name? She might be willing to smack him in the face if he didn’t clear out of here.

 “Sir, I don’t own a Dragonite, and I don’t plan on takin’ ownership of one for a very long time. I’ve asked you multiple times to get off of my property! Leave, before I make you!” She huffed, finally allowing the anger to show through in her tone of voice. Of course it would be impossible for her to keep a stoic stance while such a man was blatantly ignoring her requests. She could only imagine what he was like with others.

 “I thought you weren’t gonna give me another warning~” The male said in a teasing manner, drawing attention to the fact that he had been purposely ignoring her requests. Her rage appeared to reach its peak at this point; coaxing her into curling her lower lip against her teeth so that she could offer a shrill whistle. The noise was short lived, but loud enough to sting her ears; and it came with a specific purpose. The Weavile which had accompanied her to the garden rushed to her side immediately, their claws and teeth exposed in a threatening manner. That whistle was reserved for fighting purposes. She used the whistle whenever she trained her Pokemon in mild battles; so the Weavile understood that it was time to start being aggressive.  “Well now, looks like I finally ticked ya off~ Don’t they look scary.” The male commented, shifting his gaze so that he could peer down at the Pokemon. Honestly, she was a little unsettled at this point. The man showed so signs of concern when being confronted by a pair of agitated Pokemon that were more than equipped to do him serious harm. Had he come here looking for a fight? She didn’t know; but chances were that there was going to be some blood shed before noon had come.

[akastarlords]

home sweet home

2/?

chapter two and it only took me a year! lmao i know, i am garbage made flesh. i’m sorry. but last year was wild. but i love this story and i refuse to give up on it. also i’m flying out to australia thursday!! i’ll be there for a good while so hopefully more updates will follow while i’m there! anyway, this chapter has been a long time coming. sorry again and i hope it’s alright!

Owen woke up that morning with a sense of dread. He couldn't quite place his finger on what it was, or even why. Especially after dreaming about red hair and blue eyes. 

But as the day dragged slowly into evening, Owen began to relax. Nothing unusual happened. It was like every single routine morning since she left. 

A loud bark echoed from the porch, followed by a car door slamming shut. Great, just some unannounced visitor.

Owen sighed, scooping up the motor piece he had been working on and strolled out from the work shed. "Hey, settle down!" He called over to the bloodhound dog. 

Blue continued to bark at the newcomer, until Owen came up and patted her head. "Ah, she's all bark and no bite. Ain't ya, girl?"

Blue huffed and dropped her head back down. "How can I help you?" Owen asked, not bothering to glance at the new comer's way. 

"Well, for starters." They replied and the dread Owen felt in the pit of his stomach reared its ugly head. The motor piece fell from his hands. "You can come down here and give me a divorce."

Now, usually, Owen like to consider himself decent with the quick quips and sly comebacks. But for his life, not even a single coherent thought could even form in his mind at the sight of Claire Dearing standing in the front yard. 

Her long red locks that use to tangle around his fingers with ease were cut into a short and neat bob. Somehow the freckles that use to scatter across her cheeks, the very same ones he loved to kiss one by one, seemed to have vanish. 

Owen stomped across the porch and down to his truck. Claire rolled her eyes skyward, as she followed. "Owen, enough's enough. We've dragged this on for too long. Let's finish this, I have a plane to catch and-"

"You're shittin' me, right?" Owen grunted, facing her. Claire's nose wrinkled at the expression. She never could understand it.

"No, Owen. I'm not 'shitting' you." She replied as calmly as she could, and dug into her purse. Owen jerked his head back as Claire whipped out a manila folder inches from his face. "It's easy. See? It's even got idiot proof tabs."

"Oh, well golly." Owen commented dryly. "After seven years, that's the first thing you got to say to me?"

Blue lifted her head and let out a bark. Claire gave the floppy bloodhound and hesitant look, before narrowing her eyes back on Owen. "What do you want me to say?"

Owen leaned against the bed of the truck, a mocking look of thought crossing his face. He even tapped his chin for good measure. "Oh, I don't know. Maybe 'Hey there, Owen. Remember me? Your wife'? That's a good one, or even 'Hi, Honey. Lookin' good. How's the family?"

Claire crossed her arms, lifting a brow. "You expect me to tell you that you look good?" She asked. She gave his appearance a one over. Sure, not much had changed about Owen. It's like he never took the time to properly scrub himself clean, or try to use a razor weekly. But even after seven years, it worked for him. Even better now.

It was that and the way he'd surprise her with the soft words he spoke and daring promises he made that charmed Claire right into his arms. Claire stood straight and fixed her shoulders. "Did the run out of soap at the general store since I left?"

"Do they laugh up North?" Owen countered.

Claire poked at his chest. "You knew exactly where I was. You just never-"

Blue howled loudly, drowning out their argument.

At once they both shouted.

"Charlie, shut up!"

"Blue, shut up!"

Claire froze, eyeing the sleepy looking dog on the porch. "Blue?" She asked. "Where's Charlie?"

Sighing, Owen shook his head. "She died. Ya weren't here." He slipped passed her, yanking the truck door open. Claire stared at Blue, her mouth opening and closing before she turned back to Owen.

"What are you doing?"

"Leavin'." Owen answered as a matter of fact. "You should recognize the gesture."

He certainly was getting his jabs in. But Claire wasn't about to back down without throwing in a few of her own. Blocking the door, Claire braced herself against the side with her body.

"I know it'll be a great feat for you, Owen. But can we try to keep this as civilized as possible?" Claire said, holding the folder to him. "Please just sign these so I can go home?"

Owen scoffed. "That's rich. What do you know from home? I bet your sister and dad don't even know you're back in town."

"That's my business." Claire retorted, settling the folder on his lap. The papers fell into a mess at the ground as Owen climbed across the seats of the truck and came out on the other side.

"Honey, they're the only family you got."

"Don't you 'honey' me, I- Owen!" Claire shouted after the man as he marched back into the house, slamming the door after him. Claire stumbled slightly in the mud as her heels sunk in, but still made an impressive B-line for the door. 

"Owen! Open up!" she demanded, slamming her hand on the thin window. Owen appeared as he lifted the blinds, giving her a thoroughly over and done with look. "Call your family. Maybe we'll talk!" He snapped, tugging the blinds back down. They shot right back up. Claire stood there, watching as her husband tried in vain, once, twice, three times to keep the blinds shut. After the fifth time they shot back up, Owen practically tore them from the hinges and shook them in Claire's direction.

"Ya finished?" Claire asked, not even flinching at the way her well softened and hidden drawl came back to her. Owen threw the blinds down and stormed away. 

"Divorce. Right." Owen grumbled. Pausing, he eyes caught a flash of Claire's hair as she rounded the house. The garage door. Sprinting, Owen practically lunged himself over the couch and barreled into the garage, snapped the lock shut just as Claire twisted the knob.

The red that crossed Claire's face nearly put her hair to shame. Owen grinned lazily and held up his hands. "Good seein' you again, Claire." 

He heard her aggravated squeal as she walked away. Finally, maybe now he could process Claire's sudden arrival in peace. He walked back into the house, only to find the front door wide open.

"Hey, genius." Claire called from the dining room. She lifted her hand to show off the dirty key between her fingers. "If you wanna lock someone out, make sure they don't know where the spare key is hidden."

Owen didn't reply to her and instead looked to Blue who remained outside, watching the whole ordeal curiously. "Some watchdog you are."

Blue yawned and circled around back into a nap with a tired huff. Owen finally looked back to Claire. "Also, funny thing about hiding things, it'd be nice if your wife told you were she was." he said, this time, his voice was much more quiet. Claire shook her head.

"I'm not your wife, Owen. I'm just..."

Neither of them spoke. The seconds that passed almost felt like grueling minutes. Claire lifted her head. "I'm just the first girl to climb in the back of your truck."

Owen felt his body slack. Claire felt like she swallowed an entire rock. 

"I don't even know that girl anymore." Claire added. Owen nodded slowly, setting the can down, yanking up the phone from the table. 

"Well, lemme be the first to remind ya." Owen muttered, going into the next room, shutting the door. Claire sighed and dropped onto the couch. It sunk instantly under her weight, Claire reached out for anything to pull her out.

The same God awful couch that Owen had since he was a teenage, with the same deep dip and still he hadn't replaced it. Claire flashed an annoyed glare to the closed door. She really was dumb to think anything could have changed. 

Especially Owen.

-

Ten minutes later, Owen strolled out of the room with a satisfied look. "So, big into fashion up North?" he asked casually. Claire grunted as she finally pulled herself free from the couch. 

"What kind of question is that?"

Owen shrugged slightly. "Just wanted to know if stripes are in." It was almost too perfectly timed, as soon as Owen asked his question a police siren rang out. Claire paled. "You called the sheriff?!" she dated to the window and pressed herself to the wall in a fruitless attempt to hide herself. "You know he hates me!"

"For a damn good reason." Owen agreed, nodding. Opening the door wide. "Cuthers!" He called out. 

A much younger and not as angry looking Sheriff Cuthers stepped through the door, a wide grin on his face. 

"Hell's bells!" He greeted in Claire's direction. "If it ain't devil-may-care Claire!" Claire looked into the familiar face of her old friend, and found a smile pulling the corners of her lips. "Lowery? You're the sheriff?"

Lowery nearly beamed with pride. "Someone had to take over that old bat I call my dad. Besides, gettin' to spend my days frisking pretty things like you-"

"Try to be a professional here, Lowery." Owen cut in.

Lowery nodded but continued. "Hot damn, we've missed you around here, Claire. 'Specially Owen."

"Lowery." Owen snapped, jabbing a thumb at Claire. "She's a crime suspect. Breaking in and entering."

Claire cut in before Lowery could even get a chance to speak. "I didn't break in and enter. I used a key." She explained. Lowery held up his hands. 

"Sorry, Claire. It's still not your house. I'm gonna have to escort ya out." 

"Use the handcuffs." Owen suggested. The look Claire gave him should have put Owen twenty feet under. 

Claire backed away and held up the folder that had Owen rolling his eyes. "Not till he signs these divorce papers. Then I'll go."

Lowery glanced at Owen. "I thought ya said that was all cleared up. You're still married?"

By the stiff silence he got from them both, Lowery took it as a reluctant yes and snorted. "Then this is still her house, Owen. I ain't needed around here." He laughed. "You know, there isn't a single childhood memory I have that you two ain't apart of."

He walked to the door. Owen followed. "I set you up with your wife, Lowery! You owe me one! C'mon...what about that steak shop lifting from the Winn-Dixie?"

"I returned everything!" Claire defended herself. Lowery waved a hand.

"The..." Owen tried again. "The vandalism at the stockyard? Totally her!" He accused. He held out his arms wide, blocking Claire from reaching Lowery

"Like I could tip a cow by myself!" Claire gave Owen a scratching gaze. Lowery snorted, stepping outside. Owen finally had to draw his final card. 

"Lowery, ain't there an outstanding warrant for whoever dumped your mama's tractor into the fishing pond?"

Claire gasped, and covered her mouth. It was too late. Lowery turned slowly back to them. Owen slipped away. "Should've stuck with breaking and entering, Claire."

-

Boy where the black and white background stripes of a mug shot a familiar sight. Claire turned slowly and faced the camera. The flashing lights blinded her for a second and she realizes how much she didn't miss it at all. Usually Owen would be on the bench waiting his turn or already in a cell waiting for their parent's bail. 

But this...

"Turn." The officer snapped. Claire faced away, her mind already at work.

This was war.

(tagging: @dinosaurswowenough )