#EURGH LIKE SHUT UP!!!!!!!

[maxlarens]

x

[tyrannuspitch]

they say if a partner or family member goes for your throat during a fight you need to get out of that relationship right now, because that will be the very last warning you get before they kill you.

thor grabs loki by the throat in the boat on svartalfheim, and less than an hour later, loki is dead. but not because he had no practical way to escape. because he was psychologically trapped and he chose not to leave thor behind.

[attackjester]

if i

get obsessed with dracula

the way i did with the magnus archives/the mechanisms and steam powered giraffe

i might cry

[toastsnaffler]

nvm im too tired and overstimulated for this shit

[sun-snatcher]

♧ ⎯ THE DEVIL YOU KNOW

summ.  Something is wrong with Gambit. Deadpool & Wolverine are attacked— but they aren’t the target.  pairing.  Void!Gambit x f!Anomaly!reader , (established in #WELUCKYFEW) w.count.  3.6k a/n.  Kickstarting a potential storyline?! I’m gonna be so honest I don’t know either but. Maybe not. C’est la vie. Warnings for canon-violence & gore!

CURRENTLY, IN DOWNTOWN NEW YORK:

WADE HAS A BLADE EMBEDDED through his throat. 

He hadn’t expected his Friday night to go like this.

This, by way of meaning: getting glass shards straight to the eyes after some asshole decided not to use the front door, and proceeding to wreak absolute havoc throughout the entirety of Wade’s apartment in an attempt to kill him. 

Which brings us to now.

“Can we— eurgh— please ta— ack—!” Wade retches, gargling in his own blood as he slowly unsheathes the sword out his neck. 

He spits the metal-tang-curdle of saliva to the floor with a hiss. His teeth and the house carpet stains an ugly vermillion. Somewhere amidst the long fight, Dogpool has scampered for cover with the roomba.

“Canwepleasetakeatimeout?!” 

A picture frame shatters above him in reply. Wade dives to the living room, booting the coffeetable onto its side for cover. “Fuck me, this’ll all be a pain in the ass to clean up once we’re done h— ooh, what’s this?”

The tipped over IKEA table Blind Al set up two days ago reveals, stunningly: a concealed Glock 47. And knowing the old lady, these— alongside every weapon she’s likely squirrel-stashed around this house— is probably loaded.

(It’s by no means a gold-plated Desert Eagle from Nicepool— God rest his soul— but Wade makes a mental note to kiss Al on the mouth once she’s back from the laundromat.)

He unholsters the pistol; unclips the magazine; gauges— only 5 bullets. (…Does she kill people in her spare time? He’ll have to ask.) “You couldn’t’ve attacked me in my superhero suit? Would be so much more visually appealing for the audience, y’know.”

The assailant lets out an accented snarl beneath the dark of her hood. “D’ya ever shut th’ fuck up?”

“Uh, no? Wow, it’s like you don’t even know who you’re trying to kill here—” 

Wade slides across the floor and fires. With a sharp dodge, the first bullet narrowly misses, bursting brick and drywall instead; The second clips the assassin’s shoulder as she curses.

“You sure you’re not supposed to be after Elektra instead? I mean, the whole hooded ninja-assassin-lady fit is kinda giving edgy early-2000’s era.”

A scowl. Ninja-lady hurtles a dagger just as he stands, slicing a whistle into the air. Wade only just deflects it with a timed swing from the same sword he’d yanked out his neck. 

“Aw, all out of steel? This is why you shouldn’t bring a gun to a knifefight, beautiful.” He narrows his eyes. “Hold on I said that wr—”

“All this fuckin’ chatter!” she groans, brandishing another sword. Dusklight scatters through the drizzling rain and the window curtains, glimmering against her blade— and for a moment Wade catches it reflecting in her eyes: crescent-like; amused. 

She’s smiling. Purposefully. 

“Where did you even—? Did you pull that out your prison-wallet?”  

“We been fightin’ a while now, Wilson,” the assassin ignores, looming like a living shadow in the dim of the kitchen. There’s blood splattered against her plain mask and the edges of her cowl. Most of it belongs to him. “Y’know y’self that this shoulda ended, say, ten minutes ago, now?”

“Well, that’s why I politely asked for a time-out, genius.”

“Makes y’wonder if this whole fight’s really ‘bout you, non?”

Wade stutter-steps.

His gut twists. 

Logan, he thinks, instinctively. Then: Vanessa, Blind Al, Laura, Gambit, and you— Stray.

This has been… a stall. A fucking distraction.

“Hah! See, now you’ve just pissed me off,” the merc sing-songs, tone falling flat. It’s one thing to come after him; another to come after his family. 

He tamps down the worry, rolls his shoulders. “Right, well.”

Deadpool recalls his rounds. 

Three remain; one already chambered. More than enough. 

“Let’s fucking dance, shall we?”

…ALSO CURRENTLY, SOMEWHERE IN NEW YORK:

“WHO—” 

Stab. 

“THE FUCK.” 

Stab. 

“SENT—” 

Stab. 

“YOU?”

The mountain of a man— if Logan can even call him that anymore after the absolute carnage he’d dealt to him in this seedy back alleyway— cries out a desperate ‘Wait, wait, wait!’ just as he rears back for another strike.

“God, wish they never assigned me to the fuckin’ Wolverine. Goddamn suicide mission,” he coughs out. His curly beard looks near black from the fountain of blood dribbling out his lips, and pooling down his neck where it stains his torn hood with gore.

Thunder rolls in the distance. The flash in the nightsky swaths Logan into cutting edges; paints him menacingly in every sharp crease and divot of his features. Rainwater mix with the streaks of red on his arms, dripping down, down, down to the blade-edge of his claws.

“Tell me what I wanna know and I might just let your sorry ass live.”

“I wasn’t told who sent us, okay—?” The answer has Logan snarling. “—Dude, I said wait, I said wait! You pointy prick— Jesus. None of this is personal, okay?”

A grunt. It’s nigh animalistic in sound. “Holding a gun to my head when I was mindin’ my own business is pretty fuckin’ personal to me.”

And they were Adamantium bullets too. He’d come prepared.

“Chill,” he laughs. “We’re not here for you. Or Wade Wilson, for that matter.”

Logan’s hairs stand on end. “What the fuck did y’just say, bub?”

“I said,” the man heaves, head lolling under its own weight and eyes heavy from the bloodloss. “This ain’t about you, or your cancer-fucked boyfriend.”

The crunch that resounds from between his jaw and Logan’s fist is monstrous. He’s half-sure he may have unhinged something, or dislodged a row of teeth. 

He snatches the assassin by the collar and slams him against a dumpster, hard enough to leave a dent. “How many else of you are there? Who the fuck are you after?”

“Not enough to be honest,” comes his wheezing answer. It’s a laughter churned in derision and obvious resignation. He knows he won’t survive this. The corners of his vision have already begun to vignette.

“Do you really want to measure your pride against my fucking mercy, bub?”

A huff, akin to the flap of a white flag. The behemoth relents. “Four… of us. Too many… and we’d cause an incursion.”

There’s no time to question what the hell that meant. He’s slipping.

“You didn’t come here to kill me,” Logan repeats, grip loosening. “So why’d you bother trying?”

The assassin grins, teeth shining crimson with fresh blood. 

“To buy ‘im time.”

5-ISH MINUTES AGO:

If war had taught you one thing, it’d be that instinct will save your life.

And something is definitely wrong. 

It needles over your skin and nape, makes your insides pace like a caged animal— you feel it whenever you turn the cornerstone down 5th Avenue, when you pass the pour of newsstands at the end of the street; feel it at the cafe just opposite the X-Men’s Academy grounds where you go to mark papers. 

You tell yourself to shake it off. That it’s just you settling into a new Universe, but—

“Rain caught you?” you ask, between the vinyl-croon in your shared downtown apartment, “Dinner’s ready soon. Allons manger.”  *

“Ooh! Smellin’ mighty fine up in here.” The front door is closed shut. Remy slides his coat off and tosses it lazily to the sofa armrest. Your eyebrows shoot up, but you don’t comment. “And oui. Rain caught me out a bit.”

“Them brigands give y’any trouble?” he asks, taking the plates from your hand to set once he’d come up to the kitchen island.  *

You make a noise as you shut the fridge door and turn with two beers in hand. Remy laughs. “Mais, y’been dealt a bad hand today, chèr?”

“How could you tell?” you feign a gasp, sliding a bottle his way and leaning back the counter as you sigh. “Students were restless today. And, my phone’s dead too. Drenched in the rain the second I stepped out the school. Stuffed it in rice and praying it’ll live.”

Then, suddenly— your nose wrinkles. You turn sharply towards the stove to check if anything’s burning. “Smell’s like smoke.”

A pop of his beercap. It clatters as he makes a hum of assent. “Probably me. M’sorry, chèr, I’ll change—”

“You smoke—?” 

Remy colours a little. 

“—Since when?”

There’s blatant surprise in your eyes more than there is confusion. Your gaze flickers to his hand. He has a deck in his palm; Charlier cut. One-handed shuffle. 

Anxious tic. You haven’t seen him do it in a while.

“Mais…” 

Needles, you’re reminded. That reflexive needling at the back of your mind is creeping at the margins again. 

“I, I’m not stopping you,” comes your quick answer. Your hands are raised in surrender; you aren’t here to interrogate or stop him from his will. “Just— I didn’t expect it. Is, Is everything okay?”

“Mais oui,” he nods, trying to reassure you. “S’not often. S’just t’help me blow off some steam. Ain’t gotta worry that pretty lil’ head a’ yours, chèr, I promise.”

Your Remy had been a smoker. You’ve told him this before. Perhaps it’s a Multiversal thing, too. “No smoking indoors, though, deal?”

He purses his lips, looking sheepish. “Deal.”

The topic is dropped; A bated silence falls as he watches you dish dinner for the both of you. His intuition has always been precise, however, and it’d only been a matter of time before he spoke up again after he watched you sidle into your high-chair opposite his and push your food around.

“And you?” he presses, carefully, “Can hear the gears in y’head turnin’ from here, chèr. Talk t’me. Quoi ça dit?”  *

It’d be pointless to lie. You glance at the rain pelting like hellfire at the window, then back at him, shaking your head as if in dismissal. “Nothing. I just feel like there’s someone out there, lately. Like we’re being… I don’t know.”

“Watched?” he offers, gauging your reaction.

Yes, you think to say, but you didn’t want to appear paranoid. You’ve had this conversation with Logan before; the thrown looks over your shoulders, the twitchiness, the habit of sitting with your back against the wall; Unending disquiet that simmers to a slow boil in your marrows. 

(The war in your Universe may not have killed you, but it’d broken you beyond repair.)

“...I feel like something bad’s coming. Like someone’s gonna break through the window or—” You shut your mouth with a click before that thought goes off on a nervous tangent. “My, my body keeps preparing for a fight. Like there’s something out to get me all the time.”

Remy’s eyes are curious. Observing. He’s stopped fidgeting as he listens, deck resting in ready position. 

“Chèr,” he begins, gently taking your hand from across the table and—

You almost yelp.

His touch is cold.

(Needle-like.)

You very nearly pull away.

(Instinct.)

Dread crows like a song; a banshee’s cry in your mind’s eye.

“Easy, hey,” he frowns, worry painting across his face when you slide your hand from his. “Chèr.”

“I—” Panic roars in your chest. Your lungs expand. It’s the beer bottle, you reason, that’s why his touch is cold. Maybe even the rain. Hell, this could just be an anxiety attack.  

“I’m fine. I’m fine, sorry, I’m just— tired. Yeah.”

His gaze softens.

“Hey. Look at me, chèr. Y’home. Y’safe. Y’know that.” 

You nod. Press your eyes shut. Take a gulp of beer, focus on the burn; on the distant New Orleanian croons of the record player just under the window. 

“Gambit ain’t gon’ let anythin’ happen t’you, yeah?”

“Yeah,” you agree, smiling tightly. It doesn’t reach your eyes; does little to dispel your razor-edged wariness. 

He notices. He always does.

“How ‘bout a game t’clear y’mind, chèr?” he offers, nudging his plate an inch to make way for his deck of cards. “Go fish?”

You laugh. It’s fragile. “You’re gonna let me win, anyway.”

“There’s that smile,” Remy hums under his breath, just enough that you can catch it. “—An’ no, chèr. Cross my heart, Gambit ain’t gon’ let y’win. Mais, y’know how I get wit’ games.”

He does cross his heart, playful, then shuffles his cards. You try to let yourself sink back into familiarity in his flourishes and its sounds; watch his hands work deft to chase away the anxiety still clawing under your skin. 

He deals.

You adjust your cards. 

…ven of Diamonds, Queen of Hearts, Nine—

Your blood runs cold.

“Is…” 

You try to swallow back the horror as you look at the neat fan in your hand. “…Is this a new deck, Remy?”

The next bit of what he says sounded off to your ears; a record scratch, a jerk of a needle. 

“Mais non, this the same deck Gambit been usin’ since the start.” He shoots you a confused look.

(It’s like a muslin-thin veil has been lifted: 

The nerves and paralysing paranoia, his precious brown leather coat thrown carelessly over the couch instead of being hung reverently on the rack, the grotty scent of cigarette smoke beneath the rain, the anxious shuffling of his cards at the table, the uncanny observation and scrutinising— and perhaps, what should’ve been the most damning of all— his ice-cold touch. 

No warmth. To the touch. In his gaze. In his smile. In energy.)

“Chèr? Y’alright?”

No. No, you’re not fucking alright.

Because this deck has a Nine of Hearts. That card has been with you, since the Void; since the start.

This…

This man is not Remy.

“Yes,” you say, and you internally scream at your reply— too quick. Too quick to hide the obvious lie. “Sorry, I just gotta— I think I’m gonna throw up.”

“Chèr—?” he frowns, chair scraping as he stands to try reaching out and steadying you.

Your heartbeat skyrockets. Instinct howls inside you. Everything has been recontextualised, and suddenly every difference about him jumps out: the rough edges, the muss of how his hair falls, the cut at the tip of his ear you never noticed.

“No, stay. Stay, I’m fine—” You teeter your way off the stool. It’s not entirely a lie that you felt like throwing up, but the omission is: there’s a gun you keep under your pillow, and another under the bathroom sink.

Your phone is dead. This will have to be a fight. 

And against a mutant? You have nothing but a slim chance.

“Stray,” he calls. His voice would be soft to anyone else's ears, but you hear it now— the difference, the rasp, the hardness as his heavy footfalls draw close behind you in the hall. Frustration. Not concern. “Talk to me, chèr.”

You slam the bathroom door shut with a resounding click of the lock. You let the sink run and drown out the noise of your hands fumbling underneath the sink, and once the weight of the 9mm pistol is in your palm, there’s faint comfort. 

The rest is muscle memory: confirming a round in the chamber, unclipping to check the remaining 15 in the magazine; recalling the distance to the front door and whether you can even get through this whole thing without firing a single bullet, much less alive.

Remy— or, no, fake Remy? Fake Gambit? —is knocking at the door. His words are muffled. You barely pay attention as you place your pistol by the faucet, and dip your head down to splash water to your face and ready yourself for a scuffle.

“Stray.”

Your head shoots up. 

The door’s unlocked and wide open. Gambit’s loom behind you through the reflection of the mirror is harrowing.

You barely have time to scream.

His hand snarls through your hair— then, like a loaded spring, Remy rams your head against the mirror.

You cry out. Glass shatters in a spray.

“Tell me.” A gruff chirp, right by your ear. “What gave me away, eh? 

“Fuck… you,” you choke out, cringing when a shard cuts into your cheek.

“Baw, why ‘de bobin, Stray?” His accent is heavier now that the guise has been dropped. “Y’know, I ain’t never understood ‘dat nickname. Where’d’ya come from, eh? Y’aint from ‘round here?”  *

“C’mon, Raven,” you rasp, head reeling as red gushes down your face. “Enough games. Drop the skin.”

He laughs. It sounds painfully like the Remy you know. “Mais la, how disappointin’. D’ya really think I’m Mystique? ‘Dat couyon bleue could never nail ‘de Cajun accent even if she trained for it.”  *

You don’t care which Remy this is. The distraction buys enough time. Your hands scramble at the faucet; grasping for your pistol until—

“S’Gambit in ‘de flesh, chèr bébé, jus’ ain’t ‘de one y’used t’cuddlin’ with at ni—”

You fire blindly. A tile bursts. The gunshot booms like a church bell. 

Gambit recoils with a sharp yell, vision searing white from the piercing ring in his ears. You take the chance to book it past him with a gasp, nearly slipping on the floor as he barely misses snagging the hem of your shirt. 

“Son of a bitch,” he grinds out, shaking his head. He springs his collapsible staff, props himself to his feet. “Gotta give it t’you, chèr, y’got bite. Shame ‘de night had t’end ‘dis way. Was hopin’ we coulda’ got on by peacefully.”

Gambit descends like a reaper down the hall. His hand draws a card and you hear the cutting whistle of it in the air.

It’s too quick for you to react. The Ace explodes, and the blast has you rocketing to the floorboards by the record player. The tracks skip from the harsh impact:

 “-- ZZzrt -- I been in the right place! But it must have been the wrong time!” 

Comically perfect. Life sure likes making a joke out of your situations, huh?

You fire two pointed shots as you turn onto your back. One hits the cornice and the other is a near-miss, dodged by Gambit ducking into your room doorway with a curse. It throws him off his rhythm. His growl turns into a sour grimace instead. “Goddammit, woman.” (You’re a sharp shooter, Gambit admits. He had felt the wind on that one.)

Dr. John still croons his ‘70’s Cajun funk in your ransacked home. “---I been in the right world! But it seems like wrong, wrong, wrong, wrong, wrong!---”

Pain lances up your leg as you stagger to your feet. You can’t pinpoint where, but nothing feels broken; a small mercy.

You make a break to the front door as you continue firing to keep him back. You’re not out of the woods yet. If you can just get out, dart for the stairs, you’d atleast get a better shot at surviving this insane manhunt—

The front door handle is busted. 

Busted, in which: Gambit must’ve charged the handle and melted the lock into nothing from the inside out when he first arrived. Sly bastard.

“---Refried confusion is making itself clear! Wonder which way do I go to get on out of here?---”

Thinking clearly is out of the question, so you think rapidly instead. Fire escape. Right outside your bedroom window. 

It’s too late, though. Gambit deals another card the moment you swivel on your feet— and the charge detonates just as you raise your gun.

The flash of purple is lightning hot against your fingers. The force sends you careening to the door and sliding down with a strangled hiss. 

Your pistol clatters. You scramble for it—

An aside on all the Gambit’s you have had the (un)fortunate opportunity to come across: all versions of him across the Multiverse are surely relentless. Be it in competition, or charm, or, in this case, pure fucking bloodlust amid combat. 

Some of his feats are impressively frightening.

Like charging his staff— and then spearing it straight from across the room and right between your pistol’s trigger guard.

Disarmed in an instant.

Deadly accuracy.

“---I took a right move! But I made it at the wrong time!---”

You really wanted to break that damn player.

“Nice try, chèr,” Gambit says, voice dark as he saunters over to you. The smile that spread across his face is like blood emerging from a quick, precise slit. (In another time, you might’ve considered it attractive.) “But Remy oughta teach you a t’ing or two ‘bout knowin’ when t’fold y’cards.”

That crisp accent of his almost makes the threat sing out sweet. He picks his coat up along the way and shrugs it back on.

“Yeah, well. Not your call,” you snap, scooting to your back with a visceral glare. “What the hell do you want?”

Another aside of Gambit: Like water in a river, Remy LeBeau always takes the path of least resistance. And yet he hadn’t killed you when he had multiple opportunities to do so, and every card he’d dealt throughout the fight was meticulously controlled, just enough to not do any real damage. 

The signs are clear— he needs you alive.

“Wanna put a damn gris-gris on you for ‘dis, first of all.” He gestures to his bleeding temple with a wince. Your first shot must have burst his right eardrum. “Mais la, I need me a cigarette.” *

A deep sigh. He fishes an odd gadget out his pocket, and you narrow your eyes. It looks familiar. 

“Listen, chèr.” Gambit rips his bō staff off with a grunt, wood splintering out the boards from the force. He lazily kicks the gun away, looming over you with a resigned look on his face. “I ain’t here to kill you, alright? ‘Dat’d make ‘dis a hit, and ‘dat ain’t in the nature of what Remy do.”

“---Head is in a good place, and I wonder what it's bad for!---”

You let out a defeated snort. “So? Is that supposed to make me feel any better?”

“So.” He exhales, triggers his device with a button. 

A TVA Time-door warbles open. 

…What the fuck?

“Don’t be harborin’ any bad feelin’s on me for what I’m gon’ do next.”

Remy re-grips his staff. You pale.

“Ah, shit.”

You’re out like a light before you register the blow.

No one’s home by the time Wade and Logan barge in, late by a matter of seconds.

*Cajun Footnotes

Allons manger — Let’s eat Brigands — Troublemakers Quoi ça dit? — What’s up? (Literally: “What that says.”) Bobin — Frown Couyon bleue — Blue fool Gris-Gris — a curse/bad luck

[mydarllinglover]

Alone || Picture to Burn

Previous

"So first I say something I've never done and if you have, you drink, and if you haven't, I drink. Then we switch" Beth explained the rules to Daryl. 

She had quickly got bored of their silent drinking, convincing the adults to play a drinking game around the table.

"You really don't know this game?" Beth asked.

"I never needed a game to get lit before."

"Seriously?" Natalia asked.

"Wait, are we starting?" Beth thought Daryl's reply was the start of never have I ever.

"How do you know this game?" He pointed at the blonde.

"My friends played. I watched. How do you know this game?" She asked Natalia.

"I was a teenage girl once."

"Okay. I'll start." Beth decided, she thought about it for a little bit. "I've never shot a crossbow. So now you drink."

Natalia didn't drink.

"Aint much of a game." Daryl said, picking up his drink and taking a sip.

"That was a warm up, now you go." Beth nodded at Daryl.

"I don't know."

"Just say the first thing that pops into your head."

"You don't have to think that hard about it." Natalia told him. 

"I've never been out of Georgia."

Natalia drunk.

"Really? Okay, good one." Beth then took a sip. "Okay, Nat, your turn."

Natalia clapped her hands together as she thought.

"Uhm... I've never lived on a farm." She shrugged, knowing this was something both of them did, even if it did end badly.

Beth and Daryl both drank, then it was Beth's turn again. 

"I've never... been drunk and did something I regretted."

Both Daryl and Natalia drunk

"I've done a lot of things." Daryl said.

"What did you do?" Beth asked Natalia.

"Well, incredibly embarrassing, I flashed a house party when I was 17, at the exact moment the cops decided to shut it down, as I was stood on the table with bra in hand... not my proudest moment."

"Did you get in trouble?" Beth asked, looking at her with wide eyes.

"Daryl, its your turn." Natalia turned to the redneck. 

"I've never been on vacation."

"What about camping?" Beth asked.

"No, that was just something I had to learn... to hunt."

"Your dad teach you?"

"Mhm."

"Okay." Beth shrugged as the two women drank. "Nat."

"Eurgh, uhm. I don't know, I've never rode a bike."

"Do you know how?" Beth asked.

"Nope, my dad died before he could teach me, so I never learned... my stepdad tried once but I kinda hated him as a kid."

"Why?"

"Cause my dad was dead and this random guy had moved into my house, also I was six. Once I grew up, he was cool." Natalia shrugged. "I was a total raging bitch to him, he was better than my moms other boyfriends, though.

"Did you have any siblings?" She then went on, Natalia kinda wished she'd just get on with her turn.

"No. I was enough for her, apparently too much." She scoffed.

Beth nodded, as her and Daryl drank. "I've never been in jail. I mean, as a prisoner."

Natalia could sense the change in Daryl's demeaner, but Beth hadn't seemed to clock on when she let out a short laugh.

"Is that what you think of me?" Daryl asked her.

"I didn't mean anything serious. I just thought, you know, like the drunk tank. Nat didn't you?"

"No, they took me home." She shook her head, picking at her fingers as the awkward tension surfaced.

"Even my dad got locked up for it back in the day." Beth tried playing her question off.

"Drink up." Daryl told her.

"Wait. Prison guard. Were you a prison guard before?"

Natalia rubbed her brow, wishing the girl would admit defeat.

Daryl stared at her before answering.

"No."

"It's your turn again."

Daryl tapped the table, standing up.

"I'm gonna take a piss." He decided walking across the room, dropping his glass down on the floor and letting it smash. 

"You have to be quiet." Beth reminded, her nerves picking up at the worry of walkers.

"Can't hear ya! I'm taking a piss!" Daryl raised his voice.

"Daryl, don't talk so loud." Beth continued.

"Beth, stop." Natalia tried to warn, keeping her voice low.

"What, are you my chaperone now?" He looked over his shoulder.

He zipped his pants up, turning around.

"Oh wait. It's my turn, right?" He asked rhetorically. "I've never, uh..."

"Daryl, just stop." Natalia told the man with a sigh, but he ignored her.

"I've never eaten frozen yogurt. Never had a pet pony. Never got nothing from Santa Claus." He smacked a chair. "Never relied on anyone for protection before. Hell, I don't think I've ever relied on anyone for anything."

"Daryl."

"Never sung out in front of a big group out in public like everything was fun. Like everything was a big game. I sure as hell never cut my wrists looking for attention." He sneered.

Natalia whipped her head to look at the pair, Beth looked humiliated that he said that.

"Daryl, you made your point." Natalia stood up. "Shut up."

The walker that was outside started snarling loudly, banging on the door.

"Oh, sounds like our friend out there is trying to call all of his buddies."

"Daryl, just shut up." Beth hissed.

He grabbed his crossbow from the hook it was hanging from, pointing at Beth.

"Hey, you never shot a crossbow before? I'm gonna teach you right now."

He grabbed her wrist, pulling her up and kicking the door open. 

"We should stay inside. Daryl, cut it out!" Beth tried to wiggle out of his grip. "Daryl!"

Natalia rushed after them, wishing they never played the stupid game.

"Dumbass. Come here dumbass." Daryl called to the walker, shooting an arrow into the walkers shoulder, pinning him to a piece of wood.

"Daryl."

"You want to shoot?"

"I- I don't know how" Beth's voice was shaky.

"Oh, it's easy. Come here. Right corner." He grabbed Beth, pretending to teach her how to use it as he shot another arrow.

She pushed him off of her.

"Let's practise later."

"Daryl, leave her alone." Natalia told him.

"Come on, it's fun. You're the one who keeps saying she needs to learn to take care of herself."

"Just stop it. Daryl." Beth cried out, as he reloaded.

"Come here." He pulled her towards him again, demonstrating as he shot it in the leg. "8 Ball."

"Just kill it!"

"Come here, Greene. Let's pull these out. Get a little more target practise." He walked towards the walker, but Natalia stopped him, running in front and plunging her knife in its head.

"What the hell you do that for, we was having fun!" He shouted at her.

"You're being an asshole, stop." She pressed a hand to his shoulder, pushing him away.

"You were being a jackass!" Beth took over. "If anyone found my dad."

"Don't." Daryl turned on her. "That ain't remotely the same."

"Killing them is not supposed to be fun.”

"What do you want from me, girl, huh?"

Natalia walked away, staying towards the door of the house, keeping a lookout whilst they got whatever pent up frustration and anger about Hershel off their chest's, but she could still hear them loud and clear.

"I want you to stop acting like you don't give a crap about anything. Like nothing we went through matters. Like none of the people we lost meant anything to you. It's bullshit!" She screamed.

"Is that what you think?"

"That's what I know."

"You don't know nothing."

"I know you look at me and you just see another dead girl, so does Nat, cause I'm not her. I'm not Michonne. I'm not Carol. I'm not Maggie. I've survived and you don't get it 'cause I'm not like you or them. But I made it, and you don't get to treat me like crap just because you're afraid."

"I ain't afraid of nothing." Daryl denied.

"I remember. When that little girl came out of the barn after my mom. You were like me."

Natalia was trying to piece together what Beth was saying, she must've been talking about Sophia.

"And now God forbid you ever let anybody get too close."

"Too close, huh? You know all about that. You lost two boyfriends, you can't even shed a tear. Your whole family's gone, all you can do is just go out looking for hooch like some dumb college bitch." Daryl raised his voice again.

"Screw you. You don't get it."

"No, you don't get it! Everyone we know Is dead!"

"You don't know that!"

"Might as well be, 'cause you aint never gonna see 'em again. Rick. You ain't never gonna see Maggie again."

"Daryl, just stop."

"No! The Governor rolled right up to our gates. Maybe if I wouldn't have stopped looking. Maybe cause I gave up. That's on me."

"Daryl." Beth tried to argue.

"No." His voice broke. "And your dad. Maybe... Maybe I could have done something."

The arguing had stopped.

Natalia leant against the wood, letting what he had confessed sink in.

It was night time, the three sat on the porch, peacefully in silence, Beth had brought a jar of moonshine, taking small sips now and again.

"We should start a club." Beth sighed.

"What sorta club?" Natalia asked her.

"The dead boyfriend club." Beth said, earning a snort out of the woman. "No offence, Daryl, but you don't qualify to join."

He looked at her, not saying anything.

"Alright Greene, I'll join your club." Natalia offered her hand to shake, which Beth shook. "The dead boyfriend club."

"I get why my dad stopped drinking." Beth admitted.

"You feel sick?" Daryl asked in a quiet voice.

"Nope."

"Be glad if you don't have a hangover in the morning, they suck." Natalia told her.

"I wish I could feel like this all the time." Beth confessed. "That's bad."

"Hmm. You're lucky your a happy drunk."

"Yeah I'm lucky. Some people can be real jerks when they drink."

"Yeah. I'm a dick when I'm drunk."

"Understatement of the year." Natalia commented.

"Merle had this dealer." Daryl started, after another moment of silence. "This janky little white guy. A tweaker. One day we were over at his house watching TV. Wasn't even noon yet and we were all wasted. Merle was high. We were watching this show and Merle was talking all this dumb stuff about it. And he wouldn't let up. Merle never could. Turns out  it was the tweakers kids favourite show. And he never sees his kids, so, he felt guilty about it or something."

Natalia started picking at her fingers as he talked.

"So he punches Merle in the face. So I started hitting the tweaker, like, hard. As hard as I can. Then he pulls a gun, sticks it right here." He pointed his finger at his temple. "He says, "I'm gonna kill you, bitch." So Merle pulls his gun on him. Everyone's yelling. I'm yelling. I thought I was dead. Over a dumb cartoon about a talking dog."

"How'd you get out of it?" Beth asked.

"The tweaker punched me in the gut. I puked. They both started laughing and forgot all about it." He finished his story. "You wanna know what I was before all this? I was just drifting around with Merle, doing whatever he said we were gonna be doing that day. I was nobody. Nothing. Some redneck asshole, and an even bigger asshole for a brother."

"You miss him, don't you?"

Natalia remembered that day, when her and Daryl found him, how she held him as he cried, then they got up and went back to the prison, never speaking about it again.

"I miss Maggie. I miss her bossing me around. I miss my big brother Shawn. He was so annoying and overprotective. And my dad. I thought, I hoped he just live the rest of his life in peace, you know? I thought Maggie and Glenn would have a baby. And he'd get to be a grandpa. And we'd have birthdays and holidays and summer picnics. And he'd get really old. And it'd happen, but it'd be quiet. it'd be okay." He'd be surrounded by people he loved." She laughed for a little bit, looking away from the other two. "That's how unbelievably stupid I am." She choked up, taking a swig of moonshine.

"You're not stupid." Natalia shook her head.

"That's how it was supposed to be." Daryl added.

"I wish I could just, change."

"You did." 

"Not enough."

"Not like you. Either of you. It's like, you were made for how things are now."

"I changed cause I lost the most precious thing in my life, I had to, cause who I was before, that wasn't enough, then a lot of bad shit happened in those 5 months I was by myself, I was forced into it." Natalia sighed. "Doesn't mean it was necessarily all for good."

"And, I'm just used to it, things being ugly." Daryl said. "Growing up in a place like this."

"Well, you got away from it." Beth tried to have a positive outlook.

"I didn't" Daryl denied. 

"You did."

"Maybe you got to keep reminding me sometimes."

"No. You can't depend on anybody for anything, right?" Beth reminded. "I'll be gone someday."

"Stop."

"Don't say that." Natalia looked at her.

"I will."

"You're gonna be the last man standing, and the last woman." Daryl stared at her, whilst Natalia shook her head. "You are. You're both gonna miss me so bad when I'm gone, Daryl Dixon and Natalia Moore."

"You ain't a happy drunk at all.”

"Yeah, I'm happy. I'm just not blind."

"Must be good moonshine, then." Natalia joked.

"You gotta stay who you are, not who you were. Places like this, you have to put it away."

"What if you can't?”

"You have to." Beth finalised. "Or it kills you." She pointed at her heart. "Here."

"We should go inside." Daryl decided.

"We should burn it down."

"Beth." Natalia went to disagree, but stopped herself.

Daryl stood up, grabbing the jar of moonshine.

"We're gonna need more booze." Daryl said, heading back inside.

Beth followed, then Natalia got up, trailing along.

The three undid the tops of the moonshine, splashing it across the place, covering the cabin in the liquid.

Natalia picked up the gun, putting it back around her shoulders, tying the crewneck jumper she picked up from the country club, around her waist, then continued.

They then continued to pour the last few jars on the porch, throwing the jars and letting them smash into thousands of pieces.

Daryl dug through his bag, picking up a box of matches and handing it to the teen.

"You wanna?" He asked her.

"Hell yeah." She grinned, taking the box and lighting a match.

He held out a wad of cash, letting her light it on fire, then he threw it at the cabin.

The three watched in victory as flames licked up the wood.

They then walked further away, knowing it was going to attract walkers, but stalled for a moment, continuing to gaze at the flames.

Beth smiled triumphantly, flipping the cabin off, then nudged the two next to her, gesturing for them to copy, which they did.

Natalia noticed the undead start to arrive.

"Gotta go." She muttered, turning back around and heading through the woods, Beth, pushed forward by Daryl, followed, him right behind her.

When the sky was blue, once again, Daryl decided to teach Beth how to use his crossbow properly, as well, how to track.

Natalia had enough lessons from the man about tracking, that she could handle, everything was a lesson if he was bored enough.

"Are we close?" Beth asked.

"Almost done." Daryl said in a low voice.

"How do you know?"

"The signs are all there." He explained. "Just got to know how to read 'em."

Beth lowered the crossbow, continuing the walk.

"What are we tracking?" She asked.

"You tell me." Beth turned around to look at him pointedly. "You're the one who wanted to learn."

"Use your surroundings, look at the clues oh young one." Natalia said in a deep wise voice, gesturing her arms around theatrically.

"I am." She glared at the woman, but turned to look at the ground. "Well, something came through here. The pattern is all zig-zaggy. It's a walker." Beth smiled.

"Maybe its a drunk." Daryl scratched his beard.

"I'm getting good at this." She ignored him. "Pretty soon I won't need you at all."

"Yeah, keep on tracking." He dismissed.

"Don't worry, I'll always need you." Natalia nudged him, teasingly. "Who else will skin animals for me, cause it's too gross."

"Whatever." He elbowed her back.

The three found Beth's walker, it was on its knees, eating something.

"It's got a gun." Beth pointed out, she raised the crossbow, aiming it at the walker as she inched closer.

Natalia pulled out a knife, just in case she needed to get involved, not like she didn't have faith in the girl, but you couldn't be too careful these days.

Beth continued to walk towards the walker, until something clanged, causing the girl to fall over just behind the feasting walker, catching his attention.

She managed to shoot the crossbow as he stood up, but it only flew into its cheek, not managing to do the job.

The two adults ran forward, Daryl yanked the crossbow out of the teenagers grasp, knocking the walker over the head with it as Natalia ran to Beth's aid, she managed to get her foot stuck in a foothold trap.

She tried to figure out what to do, but didn't have a clue to help the girl.

"Daryl." She called to him, who quickly turned around and dropped to the floor to help.

He undid the trap smoothly, pulling it off of Beth.

"Can you move it?" He asked as she tried to roll her ankle around.

"Yeah." Beth hesitated.

"We should wrap it, but we don't have anything, shit." Natalia cursed under her breath.

"Come on. We'll find a place." Daryl decided standing up and helping Beth.

He wrapped a hand around her side as she put an arm around his shoulders, so he could support her, Natalia took the lead, her knife in hand and keeping an eye out for walkers or shelter.

They left the woods, getting to a graveyard.

"Can we " Beth stilled. "Can we hold up a sec?"

Natalia turned around to see what was going on. 

"You alright?" Daryl asked her.

"I just need to sit down." Beth clarified.

Daryl tapped Natalia with his crossbow, gesturing for her to take it, which she did.

"Alright. Hold up." He said, before kneeling down in front of Beth his back to her. "Hop on."

"Are you serious?" Beth asked him.

"Yeah. This is a serious piggyback. Jump up." He told her.

Beth did as she was told, hopping onto his back so that he could carry her the rest of the way.

"You're heavier than you look." He mused. As the two continued to walk.

"Maybe there are people there."

"Yeah, if there are, I'll handle them."

"Or I'll kill them." Natalia shrugged.

"There are still good people, y'know."

"I don't think the good ones survive." Daryl thought out loud.

"Or they live long enough to grow out of it." Natalia added.

They walked past the graves, before Beth jumped down from Daryl's back, stopping in front of one headstone in particular.

Daryl took a step back, bending down to pull at some flowers, before moving towards the headstone and laying them on top.

The headstone was dedicated to a beloving father.

Beth reached out, lacing her fingers with each person who was stood by her side, as they took a moment of silence for the man who was brutally lost.

Eventually, they got their barings and carried on, Beth had hopped back on to Daryl's back.

Natalia reached the door of the tall white house first, pushing it open and banging hard on the wall.

Nothing stirred in the house.

Daryl stepped forward, letting out a sharp whistle.

"Give it a minute." He said.

They entered the quiet house, not seeing signs of anything, but it was remarkably clean and well kept.

"Its so clean." Beth spoke Natalia's thoughts out loud.

"Yeah. Someone's been tending to it." Daryl said, as he looked around, still. "May still be around."

He walked into one room, the other two followed.

It was set up like a funeral, chairs sat In lines, facing an open casket, a body sat inside.

"Not creepy at all." Natalia commented.

Daryl ran his fingers across the mans face, his skin was mushy, and moved with his touch.

They left the room, exploring the house more and found a staircase that went down.

Another room contained dead bodies in suits, but it looked like a work lab.

Daryl went through the cupboards.

"Lets get that ankle wrapped." He told Beth, finding what he needed.

Beth and Natalia were too busy staring at the bodies.

"Looks like somebody ran out of dolls to dress up." Daryl said.

"It's beautiful." Beth corrected.

"It's making my bones itchy." Natalia shivered.

"Whoever did this cared. They wanted these people to get a funeral. They remembered these things were people before all this. They didn't let it change them in the end. Don't you think that's beautiful." Beth asked.

"I don't like to think about it too much." Natalia dismissed, walking back upstairs.

Natalia found the kitchen, rifling through the cupboards, when Daryl and Beth finally made it back upstairs.

"You find anything?" Beth asked.

"Yeah, but I don't know if it's much good, or just proving that whoever lives here is a psychopath." Natalia replied, showing off the full cupboard of; Pigs feet, Peanut butter and Jelly, diet soda.

"That's a white trash brunch right there." Daryl took a jar of Peanut butter.

"It all looks good to me."

"No, hold up." Daryl paused. "Ain't a spec of dust on this.”

"So?"

"That means somebody just put it here."

"And they couldn't of got better stuff?" Natalia asked. "I'm allergic to peanuts."

"Nah, this is someone's stash. Maybe they're still alive." Daryl explained. "Alright, we'll take some of it and we'll leave the rest, all right?"

Beth put a can down, before smiling at Daryl. "I knew it."

"Knew what?" Daryl asked her.

"It's like I said. There are still good people."

Daryl undid a jar of jelly, dipping his fingers in before pouring it into his mouth.

"Gross." Beth moved away, undoing a jar of peanut butter.

"Hey, those pigs feet are mine." Daryl claimed.

"And I'll have... diet soda." Natalia sighed, taking down a bottle.

"Are you seriously allergic to peanuts?" Beth asked, making sure to keep the jar far away, and not contaminate any area's.

"Deadly serious." Natalia blinked. "It's genetic, my dad was too."

"Was your kid allergic?" She asked.

"I'm gonna set up some cans outside, make sure we'll know if anyone comes by." Natalia walked out the room, dodging her question.

Natalia was tying a string full of cans to the banister of the porch, when Daryl stepped outside.

"Hey." He announced his presence.

"I'm almost done." She told him.

"Came to check you were alright."

"Fine." Natalia replied, pushing hair out of her face.

"If she upset you, she didn't mean to."

"No, no, she's good, I'm fine, honest."

"Alright." Daryl, picked at his fingers, finally deciding to come clean after nearly seven months.

"Are you alright?" Natalia asked, finished with her job and wondering why he was still hovering.

"Yeah, I got something for you."

"If it's peanut butter, I wasn't kidding." She pointed at him.

"Nah, but it reminded me of something." He chewed on his thumbnail. "Been holding onto something for a while."

"Uhm, okay?" Natalia said, nervous about where this was going.

Daryl searched one of his pockets, pulling out something.

"Y'know when Judith was born, and we went to that place to get her formula."

"Yeah " The place where she confessed to Daryl about her past. 

He shuffled around before deciding to slap the picture in her hand, waiting for a reaction.

Natalia could read the words on the back, preparing herself to turn it around.

"Why do you have this?" Natalia asked, her voice was small and meek.

"Found it in that kitchen." He confessed.

"But why do you have it?" She repeated her question.

"I thought maybe you'd want it or something."

"You've had this for seven months, why are you only now giving it to me?"

"I was planning on it ages ago, but then after everything, I forgot."

"But its been in your pocket this whole time." She stared at the picture, her finger running over it. "You had no right to have this"

Daryl was thrown off by this.

"Huh?"

"Daryl, there's a reason I didn't take it." She looked at him through her lashes. "I can't believe you."

"I thought you'd want it to remember her."

"You thought wrong. What? You expected me to want to remember that she's been dead for 15 months, that she suffered and was ripped apart by her own father cause I was stupid enough to pick fault in the middle of shit? That she cried and my mind chose to blank it out, cause my mother told me "Don't go to her every time she cries, she'll just get clingy, like I was." I'll never get her back, I'll never forget that night or how, how-" Her voice cracked, she couldn't finish her sentence. "I can't look at this without imagining what she looked like when she..."

"Nat " Daryl went to touch her, but stopped himself.

"I'm sorry." She covered her face, wiping at her eyes. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to..."

"S'fine." He shook his head, looking anywhere but at her.

Natalia took a few deep breaths, trying to compose herself.

"Have you still got those matchsticks?" She asked.

"Why?"

"I never let myself mourn her, and I want to burn the picture, as, like, a last send off or something, I don't know, it's stupid."

"Mhmm nah, it ain't stupid" he disagreed, digging around in his pockets for the box of match sticks, handing it to her.

"You can go inside, thank you though, and sorry." She said, climbing over the string of cans to sit on the steps.

Daryl stepped over as well, joining her.

"You were there for me, when Merle... so I'm here for you." He looked at her.

"Okay, whatever." She brushed off, setting the picture down on the ground.

Her hands shook as she pulled a matchstick out, flicking it against the rough side of the box, before hovering it over the corner of the picture and watching it catch the flame and begin to fold from the heat.

Natalia then dug through on of the pockets in her cargos, bringing out a box of cigarettes, placing one between her lips and offering one to Daryl, who took one, before using the still lit matchstick to light his then hers.

"To Winnie." She sighed, inhaling the smoke.

The two sat out there and smoked, whilst watching the photograph of Natalia's past disintegrate, much like the cabin in the woods for Daryl.

Daryl tensed up when the woman leaned her head on his arm, linking hers through his elbow, but refused to let himself think much of it.

Next

[nevvaraven]

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From @jegulus-microfic’s prompt - camera (752 words)

“So that’s….a camera.”

“Yes I can see that,” Sirius grits out, a look of pain coming over his face.

“It’s not what it looks like!” James rushes out, cringing slightly because it’s exactly what it looks like.

“Really? Cause it looks like a video camera pointing directly at the bed you share with my baby brother.” Sirius wrinkles his nose as he speaks, choosing to look up only at the ceiling as he breathes out a frustrated sigh. 

James begins to protest but with the glare Sirius sends him as he opens his mouth he opts instead to hang his head shamefully and shuffle over to move the incriminating camera away, “ok it’s exactly what it looks like, but in my defence I told Regulus to put the rest of it away before you got here!” 

“The rest of it?” Sirius asks slowly, narrowing his eyes as James halts all movement.

“Um…well…you see..” James swallows roughly like a deer caught in headlights, fiddling with the buttons off the camera as his eyes reflexively dart towards the bedside cabinet where they keep their other….toys.

Sirius’ head instantly snaps towards where James’ guilty gaze falls, his eyes darting rapidly between the bed, the camera, and the locked drawer, all whilst James struggles to find the button to unhook the camera from the stand. 

It’s obvious when Sirius connects the dots as the scandalised gasp that falls out of his mouth is enough to make James squeeze his eyes shut and just hope the ground swallows him up before he can do any further damage.

“Eurgh! Fucking hell- alright just, stop talking before this gets any worse.” Sirius says rubbing at his eyes. 

“Oh come on Pads it isn’t that bad-“ 

James’ words are cut off when his thumb swipes a random button and the sound of Regulus’ moans begin to blare through the room. 

James and Sirius can only stare at each other in open mouthed horror as the reality of the situation dawns upon them and the chance of escape dwindles to nonexistent. 

“Fuck!” Regulus’ shout blasts out at volume startling James into action as he fumbles and fails to turn the blasted video off, whilst Sirius seems to fall into a catatonic state of simply staring straight faced at the mess James makes of the camera as Regulus’ voice fills their unwilling ears, “James, please, just- oh. oh!” 

It’s as the sound of Regulus’ orgasm from the previous night continues to blare through the room and Sirius is yet to make any humanely movement in response, that James decides he’s had enough and simply picks the stand up, camera still attached, and throws it directly out the open window. 

The sound of the camera crashing in the back garden lingers painfully in James’ ears as he and Sirius proceed to stand in the room, for who knows how long, in the most prolonged and awkward silence he has ever known, with Sirius still doing a flawless imitation of a traumatised sort of statue and James unable to meet his eyes for fear of getting punched. 

“So-“ James attempts to break the silence.

“Unless you want me to be the next thing that flies out that window do not say one more word.” Sirius grits out still not able to meet James’ eyes. 

James can only nod in response as he fights the urge to start word vomiting in response to the nerves now overcoming his body as he rocks back and forth on his heels.

Sirius shakes his head after a moment of more torturous silence and gestures lightly for James to follow him. “Come on, let’s just go downstairs.” He breathes out. James follows quickly but stops in his tracks when a sudden thought comes to mind.

“Pads,” James starts as Sirius halts at the doorway, “Could you just do me one favour and promise not to tell Regulus? I think he’d kill all three of us if he found out you heard….that.” James asks, cautious with his choice of words. 

“Yeah at this point I wouldn’t really be so opposed to that,” Sirius says leaning his forehead against the doorway, “but yeah I agree, Reg should never know.” 

James breathes out a sigh of relief at that, making a move to follow Sirius out the door when the new sound of Regulus’ not so happy voice trails up from out the window. 

“JAMES! WHAT THE FUCK HAPPENED TO THE CAMERA?!” 

…

“Shit.” 

[illegiblehandwriting1]

WIP wednesday? mayhaps?

-

A slight, curious wind breezed past his head, tickling his nose and nearly making him sneeze, but he just groaned and curled up tighter. His back screamed at the motion. His entire head felt like an overripe pumpkin. 

Good morning, his companion whispered. 

It’s not morning, he silently shot back, burying his head into his arms. He had wrapped his sailcloth around him, but now it was chilly and just a tad damp. He probably deserved it. It’s still night. Not bright enough for morning. 

There are roughly three hours until sunrise, Hylia informed him with infuriating gentleness, as if he wanted to know how long it would be until he could feel the sun again. As if that would help. 

“Eurgh.” Sky tried to moisten his lips. His throat had long since closed up: it had become remarkably difficult to force any food or drink down and keep it there. His tongue felt gritty and parched, just like always. His entire mouth had turned into a cracked, gravelly–sounding mess. Don’t think about it. It’ll be fine. It’s worth it. 

He cracked one eye open, squeezing it shut immediately as salty tears rose, unbidden and unwanted. Fucking sensitive tired eyes. He just needed to wake up, he knew that. 

Wake up, wake up, wake the fuck up. Don’t be stupid. Get moving. 

His limbs weren’t obeying him properly. 

-

please do not underestimate my ability to write 11k words of sky doing absolutely nothing

[greatbritishsimchallenge]

Cassian ran to the bedchamber, his armour clanking loudly as he did. A woman guarded the door.

"I rode back from the hunt as quickly as I could - is the baby born?"

"Not yet, my Lord. Her ladyship is still in labour. I've been informed it is progressing well."

As if timed, a scream from Regina rang out from behind the door.

"Eurgh... I remember that sound from the last times I saw childbirth. I think I'll give this bit a pass and take a bath. She doesn't need the smell of boar blood and sweat stinking up the room."

"Very well, my Lord."

Cassian began to turn away and then looked back again, as if registering the woman at the door for the first time. He immediately noticed how incredibly beautiful she was.

"Who are you, exactly?" he asked.

The woman was clearly offended by the question.

"Lady Regina," she replied.

Confused, Cassian asked, "Are you like my wife's... twin, or something?"

"No, my Lord, we are not related though we do share the same name. I am her Ladyship's lady-in-waiting..." when she saw Cassian was still not recognising her, she continued, "I've been with your household since you married..." With still no recognition, her tone became increasingly irritated. "I've been stood in a corner of practically every room you've been in all season?"

Cassian exhaled and raised his eyebrows, "Bloody hell, I must be really good at shutting out servants from my view."

"I'm not a servant. I am a Lady," bristled Lady Regina.

"Of course, of course - sorry, I didn't mean it like that. I just meant I must've been pretty oblivious to all the shit going on around me lately," added Cassian quickly. He smiled coyly then added, "Though I am surprised someone as beautiful as you escaped my notice. I won't let that happen again."

Cassian turned to head for the bathroom, but Lady Regina mumbled something under her breath that made him turn again.

"Did you just call me a dickhead?" he asked.

Lady Regina struggled for words as she initially attempted to deny, "I... no... I.... you must have...," but something within her seemed to stop her from finishing the lie. She sighed resignedly and said, "Yes... yes, I did. I've seen you every day. I was at your wedding, for God's sake, and you don't recognise me? In my book - that makes you a bit of a dickhead."

Cassian smirked and said sincerely, "I like you."

As he walked away, Lady Regina dropped her head to try and suppress her smile. Talking to Cassian had only confirmed the feeling she had had every day as she watched him with Lady Regina - for all his flaws, there was something irritably and irresistibly charming about him.

Start (Iron Age) | Start (Roman Britain) | Start (Anglo Saxon) | Start (Medieval) | Start (Tudor)

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[the-friendliest-freak]

Idk if this is gonna make sense but the reason why the Skip Button Ending works and the sad scene from Ralph Breaks The Internet doesn’t, despite them being the same concept, is due to the dissonance between character and gameplay element.

Lemme explain by first showing what RBtI does badly, and then how TSPUD handles it.

Ralph is being insulted like he’s a real person, but the commenters know he’s a fictional character. Realistically, they’d be aiming their insults at whoever was making the videos, not the character themselves. Also one of them says that he’s “a stupid bum laying on a pile of bricks” which…no one knows that. Like, that’s off camera in the arcade game. The lack of logic here takes the audience out of the scene.

In TSPUD, they used real reviews, which worked in two ways:

Immersion wasn’t broken, the reviewers aren’t going “EURGH the Stanley Parable is the worst game EVER!1!1!!” Which would ruin the emotional impact of the scene.

The Narrator isn’t being criticised like the creator, he’s being criticised as a gameplay mechanic, because that’s what he is to the reviewers, meaning there’s no weird dissonance there.

And it’s that second one that delivers a big emotional punch: The Narrator doesn’t see himself as a gameplay mechanic because, well, why would he? He’s The Narrator! He’s the creator of the game! He’s his own person!

The reviewers’ criticisms of him as a gameplay element are rather rational - but he’s taking it as personal, because he’s incapable of seeing himself that way. The reviews aren’t intended for him, but since he perceives himself as the Creator, he believes that they are.

I mean, imagine if you were told that you were annoying and preachy, and that everyone wished you’d just shut up. That’d upset you. Its difficult to not take something like that personally.

Also TSPUD was a sequel made with actual love and effort

[killingbirdswithastone]

HALFWAY DONE WITH THE FIRST CHAPTER OF MY STORY, FINALLY OH MY GOD

Quick thing of a prologue (I think it’s a prologue? I don’t know I wrote it first) cause EURGH I so want to post it: (tw for horror) (btw this prologue has to do with future events in the story, but I’m not gonna spoil it)

Can you guess I’m embarrassed about this

Pick up pick up pick up, Adam for the love of..

The sounds of banging and screams of agony rang through the house, making Keith tense. He squeezes his eyes shut, grasping onto the hem of his shirt, phone against his ear. Holding his breath, he waits. Waits to hear the sound of another, waited for anything besides the dial tone. He waited for Adam. He furrows his eyebrows. Adam would answer. He would. Keith just has to wait.

But wait is something he couldn’t do right now.

/Hey! This is Adam../

Keith’s breathes out a shuddery breath, head tilting forward. “Adam-“

/..Unfortunately, I am not on the phone right now, so I cannot pick up! Please leave a message./

Keith clutches his phone and grits his teeth. Voicemail. He was sent to fuckingvoicemail.

Keith’s head slams against the cupboard, lowering his hands down to the ground. He moves his legs to his chest, breath erratic. Taking in a sharp inhale, he feels his lips quiver and tears threatening to spill. This was a fucking nightmare.

     Click.

His phone buzzes. 

    Clack..

He tilts the screen up towards him.

      Click.

“Shiro.” He chokes out. Seeing his brother's contact felt like a breath of fresh air, above the dark and never ending sea. Hovering his finger over ‘accept’, he hesitates, clicking out of sheer desperation.

“Keith?” The sound of his voice sent shivers down his spine, but Keith felt a disgrace of a smile on him.

“Hi.” He murmurs. He ignores the loud screeching echoing around him, he ignores everything but Shiro. He needs to hear someone. Anyone.

“Hey! Sorry, Adam just messaged me that you were calling him, and I just wanted to call to make sure you’re alright—” His words blur up in Keith’s mind. He listens to his voice, the calm and collected voice on the other side of the phone. Looking down at himself, Keith is everything but calm. He’s messy, he’s shaking, he’s scared.

    Clack.

The footsteps cut him back to reality.

“—Do you need me to come over? I could bring some food, and we could chill..” Cut to the chase, Keith.

“Hey um. Shiro?” He raises his voice, glaring at the side of the cabinet as the clacking of claws smacking against the floor and heavy breathing came back into ear range, louder then what it was a minute ago.

    Click.

“Yeah?”

 The scratching of the claws stilled.

…

“It’s after me.”

Crack.

I HOPE ITS OKAY???? I’M NOT SO GOOD SO I HAD TO GET MY FRIEND PIDGE TO BETA IT- EUURRR

[sword-symphonia]

Hi, I'm Luca or Crab- either works. If you recognise this username, you may know me for my AO3 account where I write silly words and publish them for my future employers to find later. I have no idea how to use tumblr and frankly I'm scared to learn, but I wanted an excuse to have another platform to go batshit crazy on. So, what do we gotta know about silly lil me?

•I write stories. I also take requests for stories. Please give me requests. Please. Pretty please.

•So long as you don't perceive me as male, I legitimately could not care less how you refer to me. She/her is preferred, but xe/xem fuckin' rocks too. 'Male' terms (dude, bro, sir etc) are fine, I don't care- so long as you don't see me as. A guy. I dunno, it's weird. I'm a man in the sense of boats and cars being women. Also, no he/him, thank you. Makes me feel sticky. Eurgh.

•I'm prone to cursing a lot, so I'm sorry if that gets irritating at any point.

•I genuinely never shut the hell up. I'm insufferable. Do not bring up my interests around me unless you want me to ramble for seven hours.

•IRELAND RAHHHHH (I take my identity as an Irish woman incredibly seriously for reasons unknown even to myself so very sorry if I suddenly start goin wild about that)

•I like a lot of things!!! So many fandoms!!! GOD HELP ME!!!

•Men over the age of thirty send tweet

•My favourite Animal Crossing villagers are Ribbot, Jeremiah and Stella. I share my birthday with Maddie and Niko. If I were an Animal Crossing villager I'd be a rabbit. Probably. I'unno.

•Excessive NSFW's a bit iffy to me, but at the end of the day I don't care all that much. Just know when to tone it down a bit, is all. (And of course tell me to pull my socks up a bit if I start getting a bit too ridiculous)

•I draw pictures sometimes, so I might?? Question mark? Post art? I'unno

•When I grow up (I'm seventeen help me) I wanna work in animation and voiceover WAOW!! Currently working on interviewing my favourite voice actors for career research

•I have crippling anxiety, please be patient with me. Sometimes the prospect of breathing sends me spiralling.

I can't think of anything else to say. Does Tumblr have a character limit? I've been doin an awful lot of yappin and I fear I shall be penalised

Alright bye obligatory stupid image (I have the humour of a twelve year old boy)

[foxtriestobiteandmaimandkilland]

and now my Real secret weapon. if you had to pick your top 3 favorite riptide episodes what would they be

FUCK fuc fuc fuck fuck ok. SHIT ok SO. This is an impossibly hard question but i will DO IT.

I think bc there is no way i can do them in a specific order, i will classify my 3 favourite TYPES of riptide episode. Angsty story holy shit episodes. Teehee haha feelgood episodes. And secret third type.

Examples of Angsty Story Holy Shit episodes wait omg that spells ASHS like u fr omg ...

Examples of ash episodes that i rlly like include: 97/98 duo (even tho 97 is mostly teehee haha feelgood it feels like it fits w 98 too well in the same way 52 fits with 53), 114/115, 81/82 duo YES THEYRE ALL DUOS ITS BC THEY FEEL LIKE TWO PARTERS OKAY LIKE THE ASH EPISODES HAPPEN AFTER EACH OTHER, 52/53 duo bc YES 53 is the Big Scary Episode BUT 52 LEADS UP TO IT PERFECTLY ESPECIALLYYYY W THE FUCKING MEAT ROOM AND THE SANDS OF TIME AND ye andddd all of the dunjon or dungon or dunjun or HOWEVER ITS spellt. When gilly was in the pearl in dugon. Omg dugon,...

Examples of Teehee Haha Feelgood episodes that i rlly like include: 113, 105, 99, 91/93 (we dont talk abt 92.), 70-74 is all tbh rlly fuckin good AND YES 74 WAS TEEHEE HAHA FEELGOOD IT WAS ONLY THE END THAT WAS EURGH OK. 45 i think was the one with a certain song in it that just made it feel so. Good. And 11. 11 was rlly good.

Andddd examples of Secret Third Types i rlly like: 110, 106, 61/62 ermmm tbh there arent a lotta third types. WELP

Anyways so this means rn my top 3 is 115, 114, 113, 110, 106, 105, 99, 98, 97, 93, 91, 82, 81, gilly orb time, 74, 73, 72, 71, 70, 62, 61, 53, 52, 45, and 11

Which is too many for a top 3.

Id say i COULD maybe categorise these into which i like more than the others but NOT a full list. Like a tier list almost except its just. S tier. S+ tier. S++ tier. Nothing bad here at all.

115, 113, 110, 105, 98, 81, gilly orb time, and. God a LOT of boat episodes. are i think the top episodes for me. Boat episodes deserve their own lisr actually fuck u i love boat episodes.

The rest dont actuallt need sorting rn bc u only want the best of the best.

115, 113, 110, 105, 98, 81 and gilly orb time are non boat episodes (shut up 113 and 98 and 81 dont count for these. 113s the only rlly boatish boat episode of these and its DIFFERENT SHES DIFFERENT OK)

83-86 and 91/93 are some of my favourite boat episodes id say. It isssss kinda hard to remember the events of specific ones soooo ill just categorise em as 2 episodes. 83-86 was a very long episode. 91/93 was a boat episode w a commercial break inbetween.

Ok now is. Time to choose. I thinkk id pick. One Angsty episode. One Feelgood episode. And one. Boat episode. The secret third option was boat all along, as all things are.

98 is probably my favourite angst episode. Its just soooo. Living forever in my mind. It is everything ive ever wanted forever and swagever and always and ever. I love 98.

105 has a certain Feel to it. Idk what the council was on that episode but it was like. Idk it felt so Alive and GOOD man. Real what the scallop vibes WAIT. 113s a feelgood episode. AND it was literal what rhe scallop vibes. Fuck it 113 gets lumped in with 105 fuck u and fuck ur train

I just. Love 91 and 93. Like all of these just feel like so. Alive. They feel like the crew, and wait. Wait.

All of these.

With the exception of 105.

Which still has the right vibes.

All of these r boat episodes.

[i-will-cry-you-a-river]

This ficlet was definitely not written because someone is feeling under the weather and I wish them a speedy recovery. Of course it's not. On a totally unrelated note, I wish you a relaxed, easy day @mortysanchez

Rick wanted to make note of that it wasn't because he cared for the little turd. It wasn't because he loved his grandson, nor because that little scrawny thing was even tinier, scrawnier and miserable than usual as he was blinking tiredly up to him when he left Morty on the couch, eyes filled with tears, cheeks red with fever and button nose full of snot. It wasn't.

He just wanted to sleep, and he couldn't when that little idiot who had no idea of how to take care of himself was hacking up his soul upstairs. He was a busy man, with lots of inventions to tinker, planets to explore, beings to kill and things to steal. He needed his sleep.

Yet, there he was, laying in his bed, his body achingly dizzy with the amount of alcohol he consumed, and all he could do was to listen to that noisy little shit coughing up his lungs. It drove him crazy.

Didn't Morty have a mother with a medical license who could give him medicine? Or an unemployed father who had time to cook soup for him?!

"Fucking flaco…" he grumbled, getting out of his bed. That scrawny little thing better be thankful. The ideas on how Morty could make up for him ran through his mind, and he had to consciously squish the less than family friendly images of Morty-

"G-get a grip, you f-fucking pervert."

His uncertain steps led himself towards Morty's room. He glared towards Beth's door, his daughter was getting more and more like him as the days went by. Absent, alcoholic, uncaring asshole…

His grip on the doorknob tightened, and he opened the door with more force than he planned to, as it banged to and bounced back from the wall.

"W-w-what?" Morty croaked, as the sound woke him up from his fitful sleep. He looked around pitifully, sniffling and wheezing, eyes trying to adjust to the light flooding his room from the open door.

"R-ri- I don't… p-ple… no- now, I-I-I j'st w't to s…" Rick had seen him in bad conditions, he caused him some of those. He'd seen Mortys bleeding out, dead and in various states of decomposition. He should have been immune to Morty's tearful eyes and pouting lips.

He wasn't.

"S-shut the fuck u-eurgh-p," he growled, stalking towards his grandson, who looked like he was either going to fall asleep or cry his eyes out. Probably both.

"R-r-r-rick, please," Morty whispered. Rick was proud of his assholeness. He was proudly uncaring and fucked up, he didn't care about anybody or anything. So why did his chest hurt at Morty's pitiful begging? That his grandson didn't trust him that he wouldn't drag him to an adventure when he was this sick?

"I said, sh-ough-ut up!" he grunted. "I'm g-going to take care of y-euhhg-ou," he promised. Miserable, blood-shot eyes blinked up at him. Morty's brown curls were glistening with sweat, sticking against his forehead. His tiny body was shivering with cold and a forceful cough was shaking him.

"Oh, flaco… you little t-urp-urd," Rick murmured, his voice so much softer than he intended. A soft whine tore from Morty's lips as Rick's cold hand slid into his flaming forehead. "Y-y-you need…" Rick was murmuring to himself, thinking about all the ways he could heal his grandson, a Cure for Cold, a variation of one of the serums, maybe.

He got up, ready to go down into his lab, but weak little hands grabbed his sleeve, forcing him to stop. "D-don't go," Morty whispered, his eyes huge in his painfully white face.

Rick stood there, rooted in the ground, teeth clenching and cracking. Then, without thinking about the possible implications, he wrapped Morty into his fluffy blanket, and lifted his precious burden into his arms. A little gasp left Morty's lips at the sensation, but he instantly melted into Rick's chest. He was gasping through his mouth, his button nose stuffed up, and Rick should have been disgusted that the little idiot wiped his drooling, snotty, tearful face into his shirt - even though that shirt was drenched with worse things than Morty's fluids - but he wasn't.

He wasn't disgusted, he wasn't inconvenienced, he wasn't fucking irritated. He was madder for not being mad about the whole thing than about the situation!

"D-don't worry, peque, gr-grampa is going to make things better," he murmured, hoping that Morty wouldn't hear him though his own coughs.

He wasn't that lucky. "T-thank you," his grandson whispered.

"S-shut up."

It didn't take long until they reached the garage. The problem started, when the sick little shit didn't want to let him go, and Rick, instead of just dropping him to the floor, kept hugging him tight. The seat was uncomfortable for the two of them, but it was nothing compared to the knowledge that Rick showed too much of himself through his actions.

There was no way that Morty would be afraid of him after this. What a shame…

"Let's do this," he murmured, taking the necessary components for the serum. "Fleeb juice and turbulent juice… maybe this- or that?"

He didn't even notice when did Morty fall asleep, but by the time he was done with the serum, his precious grandson was snuffing peacefully, Rick's shirt in his mouth as if it was his childhood teddy bear's ear that would calm him down.

It was too cute for Rick to handle.

"Mo-ourgh-ty," Rick growled, shaking the tiny boy in his lap to wake him up.

Big, trusting Bambi eyes blinked up to him, as Rick shot the serum. The effect was almost immediate, and even Rick felt he could breathe easier now that Morty was healthy again. And wasn't that depressing? His mood depended on the state of a hormonal, idiotic teenage boy. He was fucked. And not in the kinky, fun way.

"I love you," Morty whispered, and promptly fell asleep. Yeah, Rick humbled, he was so. Fucked.

[i-write-hurt-not-comfort]

You know. I am gonna annoy you with Koushin for the rest of time. So ✨take your pick✨ hehe

Either you can write them do epic horse stuff or stargaze together. Admittedly the stargazing thing could be more cute :3

this has been sitting in my inbox since i was drunk and i thought i'd be silly and do it now.

i've never written actual romantic KouShin so i actually have no idea what i'm doing but here we go anyway. i gave it a sammy-classic twist.

tw for recreational drug use (just weed)

"Woah, woah. Where'd you get that?"

Kou laughs at the expression of shock on Shin's face when he pulls out the joint. Obviously, Shin knows Kou gets his hands on drugs every now and again but he's never presented them to his partner before.

They're sitting on a field together, outside the forest of Eden where there's zero light pollution. The sky above them is completely clear, like a painting, with a pitch black back-drop and stars dappled across it. Galaxies in Eden are more beautiful - they're brighter colours, with more constellations and different coloured stars.

"Yuma, duh," Kou chuckles, slowly sitting up from where he'd been laying on Shin's chest. "He grows it, you know. It's great stuff."

"I know he does," Shin says, "But you've never brought it here."

"It's a nice night. I thought I'd mix things up~" Kou chimes, as he pulls out the lighter too. "So? How about it?"

Dumbfounded, Shin just blinks at him. "Are you kidding? Nii-san will kill me if he finds out."

"Hmm? How's he gonna find out?"

"The smell!"

"Ahh, Shin, sweetie, do you really think Carla knows what weed smells like?"

"Well-" Shin stammers. Kou is right. Carla wouldn't have a clue. But he's still not all too convinced. "Still, I haven't... done that kind of thing before."

"You've never drank Vampire Juice?"

"I'm not a Vampire?!"

"Ahh, right, right. The Demon Market doesn't have a Founder-equivalent?"

"No," Shin deadpans, "Why would they? There's only two of us."

"Huhhh, I find it hard to believe Giessbach never felt goofy and tried to make something like that," Kou comments to himself, placing the joint between his lips, flicking the flame on, then lifting the lighter to the tip. The paper at the end catches alight quickly and he takes a long drag.

A familiar smell, one which the corridor around Yuma and Kou's bedroom is often filled with, follows in the air around them. Kou catches Shin staring at him as he exhales smoothly, so he flashes him his best, most convincing pretty-boy smile and holds out the joint.

"Try it," Kou tells him again. "It'll be fun!"

Tentative, Shin takes the joint between his fingers, staring down at it like it'll kill him. It makes Kou laugh, because Shin is normally bold and does anything but this concept is foreign to him.

But he doesn't want to seem weak to Kou, so he carefully places the joint between his lips and inhales sharply.

And immediately coughs.

"COUGH-! Eurgh!" he screws his face up, shoving the joint back into Kou's fingers. "That's nasty."

"Ehhh?! Is there something the great Shin Tsukinami can't do?"

"Shut it!" Shin yells, growing almost embarrassed. He snatches the joint back before Kou can take another hit, sucking on it again and fighting back a cough.

This time, with the power of full self-restraint, Shin holds down any reaction, keeping the smoke in his lungs for four seconds before exhaling. Whether it's the oxygen deprivation or the drug, the haziness which follows moments later is refreshing.

"See?" Kou sees him smiling, kissing his cheek. He then places his head back on Shin's chest, staring up at the sky. "Nice, right?"

"Heh. It's acceptable," Shin says, passing it back to the blonde. "Maybe we can do it another time."

[mydarllinglover]

Alone || Brothers reunited

Previous

"The Governor, that's really what he's called?" Natalia asked Michonne as the car packed full of people drove down the road.

"Says its a nickname, acts embarrassed by it." Michonne said in a low voice.

"See, Nat, that's a nickname, so is Rick, y'know, for Richard. But the governor? No, does he tell anyone his name?"

"No."

"Interesting." Natalia sighed. "I mean, I wanted to be prime minister when I was 8, until I realised we didn't have those."

"Stop here" Michonne said, louder than their previous conversation.

Rick parked the car offside the road, beside the woods.

Everyone climbed out the car.

"They have patrols, we're better off on foot." Michonne told everyone.

"How far?" Rick asked. "Nights coming."

"It's a mile. Maybe two."

A lone walker was catching up to them.

"I got it." Natalia called out as the others unloaded the car, walking up to the undead woman and putting her down, wiping her knife on the woman's ripped and stained dress.

She caught up to the others into the woods, skipping past Daryl and Rick to walk ahead, she could hear them talking.

She pulled out her ponytail, brushing it with her fingers, before doing it back up, braiding it tightly with the other band around her arm, making sure it wouldn't cause an obstacle.

As they continued to walk, a small herd of walkers came out from the trees heading for them.

"Get down!" Rick hissed. "In formation, no gunfire." He instructed, heading for the closest one, slinging his machete through its head and kicking it down.

Natalia dropped a few, using a body to shove at another, causing it to fall to the ground.

"There's too many of them." Daryl grumbled as more came from behind, surrounding the group.

"This way." Rick pointed down a path, the rest following.

Natalia had missed the memo, taking down another before her arm was grabbed, being dragged backwards.

She went to stab the offender before realising it was Daryl.

"Come on." He told her, letting go so she could run on her own.

"Through there. Come on." Rick shouted, continuing to run through trees, heading for a cabin.

The five rushed to the door, rick pushing it open as they got inside.

"Get the door." He told Michonne, who was the last one in.

"Eurgh!" Natalia groaned, covering her mouth and nose.

"Keep it down. Keep it down!" Rick hushed.

"The smell, it's loud." Daryl picked up, also covering his mouth and nose as he looked around for the culprit.

"What the hell is that?" Oscar asked as they all looked down on something horrid looking.

"It's got to be a fox or what's left of one." Daryl guessed.

Rick shined his flashlight on it, revealing a dog.

"Guess Lassie went home." Daryl commented.

Pounding on the door started as the walkers reached the cabin.

In the darkness, they found a bed, blankets were piled high, covering what looked like a body.

Both Daryl and Natalia held knifes in case of attack.

Rick slowly reached for the duvet, yanking it back to reveal a man jumping out of bed.

"Ah! Who the hell are you?" He shouted when everyone jumped back.

"We don't mean any harm." Rick surrounded.

"Get outta ma house!"

"Okay, okay, okay, we will, but we can't right now."

"Now!"

"Shut him up" Michonne hissed.

"Get out, right now!"

"There are walkers outside!" Rick explained.

Natalia was getting agitated as the walkers continued to pound against the house.

"I'll call the cops!" He continued to shout.

"I am a cop." Rick tried to reassure the man, but it wasn't enough for Natalia.

She stepped towards the man on silent steps.

Rick continued to talk, seeing what Natalia was up to but kept his eyes on the man to not alert him.

"Show me your badge!" The man said, raising his gun up to Ricks face.

Natalia reached out, plunging her knife into the mans skull, letting his body drop to the ground, the gun he was holding, fired into the wall, causing a hole to appear in the wood.

"I thought you were gonna knock him out!" Rick hissed.

"I don't know how to do that, he was making too much noise, I panicked!" She admitted, throwing her hands up in surrender.

Daryl walked towards the door, checking outside.

"Remember the Alamo?" He asked.

"Help me with the door" Rick sighed, picking up the man, Daryl helping.

"You've got to be kidding." Oscar shook his head.

"He's dead. Check the back." Rick told him.

Oscar did as told, heading to the back door, as the two men held the man up so that Michonne could get ready to open the front door.

"Its clear." Oscar called out.

"One... two... three" Rick counted down.

Michonne threw the door open, Rick and Daryl throwing the body out and slamming the door back shut.

They all headed out the back door, sneaking around so that they didn't alert the walkers that weren't feasting on Natalia's latest kill.

It was night time by the time they reached the town, sneaking round cars to examine the area.

"Hey" Daryl whispered, sneaking up beside Natalia. "When we get back, gonna teach you how to put down someone without killing them."

"Why, if you need to put someone down, there's a high likely chance you don't need them alive." She shrugged.

"Cause that ain't always the case."

There was two people stood on top of the wall of tires, one stood by a big light that over looked the deserted road, and one paced.

The one stood by the light shortly stepped away, being replaced by an older looking man in a cap.

"We should just take them out, they just swapped shifts, so no one will be coming round for a while" Natalia whispered.

"No." Rick hushed.

Michonne snuck away, ignoring Rick calling her back.

"Damn it," He cursed. "Alright, we need to downsize."

"Ain't no way we're gonna check in all those buildings" Daryl said. "Not with all them guards there."

"That's why I'm saying we just shoot them down."

A twig snapped, alerting that Michonne had come back.

"Alright lets go." Rick said, following the woman.

"Why does no one ever listen to me." Natalia grumbled as she followed.

Michonne had led them through a hole into a building with shelves of food and tables.

"This is where you were held?" Rick asked her.

"I was questioned."

"Any idea where else they could be?"

"I thought you said there was a curfew." Daryl whispered, looking behind a curtain at a street full of people.

"The streets are packed during the day, those are stragglers."

"If anyone comes in here, we're sitting ducks." Rick said. "We gotta move."

"They could be in his apartment." Michonne thought out loud.

The three looked at the woman, Oscar continued to keep his eye out.

"Yeah, what if they ain't?" Daryl asked.

"Then we'll look somewhere else"

"How do we know this isn't just some ploy." Natalia accused.

"You said you could help us."

"I'm doing what I can." Michonne defended herself.

"Then where the hell are they?" Oscar asked.

"Hey" Rick whispered, walking away and nodding for everyone but Michonne to follow.

"If this goes south, we're cutting her loose." Rick told them.

"You think she's leading us into a trap?" Oscar asked.

"Feels like it, she's keeping something from us" Natalia said, getting an itchy feeling.

"Nah, right now its a blind leading a blind." Daryl mused. "Lets split up."

A knocking at the door halted their conversation, before it was being unlocked, a man walking through.

"I know you're in here" The man said. "I saw you moving from outside. Alright now. You know you're not supposed to be in here."

Natalia grabbed a jar from off one of the shelves, jumping up from her hiding place and away from the others, Rick tried to stop her but she was moving too fast.

"Sorry, its just me." She smiled bashfully at the man. "I was just grabbing some..." She looked at the label, reading horseradish. "Horseradish. I just ran out, but I didn't wanna bother you." She tucked her hair behind her ear, laying on the innocent act, thickly.

"Ah, thas alrigh' Darlin', but y'know, you can't be coming in here at late hours of the day, especially after curfew."

"Yeah, but I was just really craving Horseraddish, and it was all gone, and you know how it is, I'm sure you can let this stay between just us, right." She patted his shoulder.

"Say, how long you been at Woodbury?" The man said, seeming to not be able to recognise the woman.

"Oh, uhm quite some time now... y'know."

"I just, I don't think I've seen much of you around, and I couldn't forget a pretty face like that, maybe I should go see the Gover-“

Rick jumped up, pushing the man against the wall and raising his gun in the mans face.

"Shut up, get on your knees." The man did as he was told. "Hands behind your back. Zip tie him." He told Daryl.

"Where are our people?" Rick asked him.

"I don't know" The man shook his head, paling at the sight of a gun aimed at him.

"You are holding some of our people. Where the hell are they?"

"I don't know." He repeated.

"Open your mouth." Rick said, shoving a white cloth in the mans mouth.

Daryl whacked his crossbow against the mans head, knocking the man out.

She ignored the look he gave her as Rick dragged the man back into the building.

"Y'know I was dealing with it, right?" Natalia asked Rick.

Gunshots aired causing them to make up the decision to leave immediately.

Rick opened the door, sneaking out.

They headed towards to where the gunshots came from, sneaking around what looked like a warehouse of sorts.

The group hid behind a metal sheet, acting as a wall as they listened out to people walking around and talking, their weapons aimed in front.

"On your feet. Move" A man ordered.

"Shit." Rick muttered, him and Daryl pulling out Flash bang cannisters out of a bag, releasing them and throwing to where the people were walking towards, bolting the other way.

"What the hell was that?!" One of the people shouted out, the enemies ducked and coughed on the fog.

Rick led the way back in, his gun locked and loaded as he waited for movement.

They eventually found Maggie and Glenn, Rick and Daryl helped an injured Glenn stand as Natalia grabbed Maggie, leading her away.

The people shot into the clouded room, Daryl followed behind the group, shooting back.

They ran through the street, as shadows of people floated past.

"Inside, quick!" Rick hissed when they passed a building.

Natalia ran for the door, opening it and letting everyone else in.

The door slammed from the outside.

"Are you okay?" She asked the recently rescued pair, passing Maggie a cloth so that she could wipe the blood off Glenn's face.

"Aint no way out back here." Daryl called out, looking around the room.

"Rick, how did you find us?" Maggie asked.

"How bad are you hurt?" Rick asked Glenn.

"I'll be alright." Glenn struggled to say, clearly lying.

"Where's that women?" Maggie brought attention to the missing person.

"I thought Michonne was right behind me." Natalia said, not being able to locate her either.

Rick looked behind the curtain and onto the now busy street.

"Maybe she was spotted." Oscar suggested

"Want me to go look for her?" Daryl asked.

"I'll help." Natalia offered.

"No, we gotta get them out of here. She's on her own."

"Daryl, this was Merle." Glenn told the redneck.

"Who's Merle?" Natalia asked.

"Daryl's brother" Maggie answered.

"You saw him?" Rick asked.

"Face to face. Threw a Walker at me. Was gonna execute us.”

"So my brothers this "governor"?" Daryl growled.

"No, he's somebody else." Maggie replied. "Your brothers his lieutenant or something."

"He knows I'm still with you?"

"He does now. Rick, I'm sorry. We told them where the prison was. We couldn't hold out."

"Don't, no need to apologise." Rick patted his leg, moving to look outside again.

"I'm gonna kill this sick son of a bitch." Natalia grumbled, checking her ammo, she didn't miss how Maggie was wearing Glenn's shirt.

"They're gonna be looking for us." Maggie said.

"We have to get back. Can you walk?" Rick asked Glenn. "We got a car a few miles out."

"I'm good."

"Rick, we have to end this, before we give him a chance to start anything back at home, he clearly was desperate to know where we are." Natalia said gesturing to Glenn and Maggie.

"No, we need to get them out of here."

"Hey, if Merles around, I need to see him." Daryl told him.

"Not now, we're in hostile territory."

"He's my brother. I ain't-"

"Look what he did! Look, we gotta we gotta get out of here now."

"Maybe I can talk to him. Maybe I can work something out." Daryl was almost pleading.

"No, no, no. You're not thinking straight. Look, no matter what they say, they're hurt. Glenn can barely walk. How are we gonna make it out if we get overrun by walkers or this governor catches up to us? I need you, both of you." He looked between Daryl and Natalia. "Are you with me?"

"Yeah." Daryl nodded, but he didn't look all too happy about it.

"Nat?" Rick then asked the woman.

"But-"

"We'll come up with a plan when they're safe, right now, this is what we need to focus on."

"Fine, yes," She looked away, biting her cheek.

"Thank you, we have to get out of here, now." Rick said, heading towards the door.

Daryl grabbed another two cannisters whilst Rick and the rest stood by the door.

"On three. Stay tight." Rick ordered. "One, two, three." He threw the door open, letting Daryl chuck the cans out. "Let's go" He hissed.

As the group ran, someone on the wall caught them, shooting.

Rick and Natalia shot back, one of the pair landing a shot as he fell down.

"Behind you!" Daryl shouted as gunshots came from behind.

All four shot back, the fog blurring their vision.

"Go, go, go!" Rick instructed as they headed out of the gunfire.

"How many?"

"I didn't see!" Oscar replied.

"Don't matter. There's gonna be more of them. We need to move." Daryl said as he reloaded his gun.

"Any grenades left?"

Daryl nodded.

"Get 'em ready. We gotta gun it to the wall." Rick said.

"You guys go ahead. I'm gonna lay down some cover fire." Daryl offered, handing Glenn a fully loaded gun.

"No, we stay together." Maggie denied.

"It's too hairy. I'll be right behind you."

"Want some help?" Natalia asked him.

"No, you focus on getting these guys out of here." He said, and that's when she knew what he was up to.

Maggie shot around the corner.

"Ready?" Daryl called out, throwing the grenade into the street.

"Bomb!" A man shouted.

"Come on, move!" Rick ushered as they headed for the wall.

"Glenn!" Maggie cried out.

"You're clear!"

"Go! Keep going!"

"This way!" Oscar shouted, leading them behind a bus, he helped Glenn and Maggie onto the bus as the others shot back.

Natalia noticed that Rick had stopped shooting, seeming to be in a daze.

Someone had shot Oscar down as she was watching him watch the man.

"No!" Glenn cried out as the prisoner fell.

Rick shot the man down, heading for him, but Natalia grabbed his arm, trying to pull him away.

"Rick, let's go! Come on!" She hissed as Maggie continuously called out his name. "Rick, now!"

He eventually began running with her.

Maggie had tried to help Oscar, but it was too late, so she shot him in the end and hopped onto the bus.

"Daryl, come on!" Natalia shouted to him as Rick climbed up.

"Daryl!"

"Go." He called out to the pair.

He didn't give them a choice, Rick pulled Natalia up onto the bus as they fled.

"Damn it, Daryl." She cussed the man out.

She followed the others as they all ran back towards the car they hid behind to scope the place out.

"Come on, Daryl" Rick muttered.

There was a rustling in the bushes, out came an injured and bleeding Michonne.

She went to go help the woman when Rick aimed his gun at her.

"Where the hell were you?" He asked her. "Put your hands up. Turn around. Turn around!" She did as she was told. Rick took her sword out the sheath. "Get what you came for?"

"Where are the rest of your people?" She asked him, leaning against the cart.

"They got Oscar." Glenn said, his gun pointed at her.

"Daryl's missing. You didn't see him?" Maggie asked, her gun pointing at the woman as well, Natalia was only one who hadn't.

"If anything happens to him-"

"I brought you here to save them." She cut him off.

"Thanks for the help."

"You'll need help to get them back to the prison or to go back in there for Daryl. Either way, you need me."

Rick and Natalia had managed to come up with a plan after getting Glenn and Maggie, back to the car, keeping an eye on Michonne as well .

When they had snuck back in, Natalia was shocked to see that the brothers were in a pit, with walkers on sticks being thrown at them as they fought each other, the crowd shouting and booing at them whilst the man with an eye bandage watched, his men holding back a blonde woman.

Natalia aimed her gun, taking out a walker that was heading straight for Daryl, then she shot at a young girl in a hat, roughly around the same age as her two friends. Rick threw a smoke bomb in the middle as she shot at some of his men, sending them down as well. Rick then began shooting as well, at any figure they saw, whilst taking out the lights.

They hid behind a large dumpster as people ran past them, Rick shone a flashlight ahead, catching Daryl and who she believed to be Merle heading straight for them, Daryl snatched his crossbow off someone just before Merle hit him across the head.

"Daryl" Rick called out, as they passed them, also after them.

They got back to the busses.

"They're all at the arena. This way," The older man said.

"You're not going anywhere with us." Rick told him.

"You really want to do this right now?" Merle began kicking at a metal sheet on the wall.

"Come on, man." Daryl grumbled. "Rick, come on, we gotta go."

"Go." Rick told Natalia, as he kept look out.

Once they climbed through the fence, they were met with Merle bashing in the head of a walker with his metal stump, there was clearly a story there.

Natalia shot at a walker, Rick doing the same and Daryl hitting them down with his crossbow.

"We ain't got time for this." Merle shouted, running off.

"Let's go!" Daryl told the pair, following his brother.

"We could of ended this, I had a clear shot!" Natalia hissed at Rick as the four ran through the woods.

"No, we need to get out of here."

"We wouldn't have to rush to get away if he was dead!"

"Nat, lets go" Daryl told her.

"Why are you not listening!"

"Listen, sweetheart." Merle started.

"Who are you calling sweetheart" She glared at him.

"Hey, Nat, we need to get Glenn home safe before we do anything, okay, I don't need you going and running off."

"What, like Daryl did?" She digged.

"Hey, watch your mouth." He told her.

"God, you're all idiots!" She stormed ahead of the woods, away from the three men, keeping her gun high, just in case.

"That's right, keep on walking, give us a show." Merle whistled from behind her.

If he wasn't Daryl's brother, she would've sent a knife hurling at his skull, instead she opted to flip him off.

"Leave her alone, man." Daryl muttered to his older brother.

"You got a lil crush, baby brother?" He teased.

"No, but she just saved both our asses, so lay off."

The sun had risen when they reached the car.

"Glenn." Rick called out.

"Rick, Rick, thank god." Glenn said, his breath laboured as he got up from the ground.

"Now we got a problem here, I need you to back up." Rick said, showing authority.

"What the hell is he doing here?!" Glenn shouted, raising his gun the same time Michonne pulled out her sword.

Natalia watched the show, this wasn't her business, and she didn't even blame them for being mad, she'd known the man less than a day, and she already didn't like him.

"Hey, hey. Put it down!" Rick shouted, raising his own gun at the swordswomen.

"Woah, woah, woah."

"He tried to kill me!" Michonne stressed.

"Look what he did! If it wasn't for him-"

"He helped us get out of there" Daryl said. "Drop it."

"Excuse me? I'm pretty sure me and Rick risked our lives going back in there to rescue you from your little family reunion, if I remember rightly, he was punching the shit out of you." Natalia leaned off the tree.

"Hey, we both took our licks, man." Merle put his hands up.

"Jackass." Daryl said to the amputee.

"Hey, shut up."

"Enough." Rick shouted over everyone.

Michonne attempted to sidestep Rick, but he moved in her way.

"Hey, hey, relax" Daryl turned around, before facing the group.

"Put that down, now." Rick told Michonne.

"Hey, get that damn thing out my face!" Daryl told Glenn.

Merle laughed.

"Man, look like you're going native, brother."

"No more than you hanging out with that psycho back there."

"Oh, yeah, man. He is a charmer. I got to tell you that."

"Where?" Natalia asked, completely puzzled that people kept using that word for the man.

"Been putting the wood to your girlfriend Andrea. Big time, baby."

She heard that name before, when Carl was trying to name the baby.

"Andrea? Andrea's in Woodbury?" Glenn asked.

"Right next to the Governor."

Michonne stepped forward once again.

"I told you to drop that!" Rick shouted at her. "You know Andrea?"

She didn't answer, glaring at the man in front of the tree.

"Hey, do you know Andrea?" Rick repeated.

"Yep, she does." Merle answered for her. "Her and blondie spent all winter cuddling up in the forest. Mm mmm yeah. My Nubian queen here had two pet walkers. No arms, cut off the jaws, kept them in chains. Kind of ironic, now that I think about it."

"Shut up, bro!" Daryl told him.

"Hey man, we snagged them out of the woods. Andrea was close to dying."

"Is that why she's with him?" Maggie asked.

"Yeah. Snug as two little bugs. So what you gonna do now, Sheriff, huh? Surrounded by a bunch of Liars, thugs and cowards, and this lil killer machine over here." He winked at Natalia.

"Shut up!" Rick told the insufferable man.

"Oh man, look at this, pathetic." He continued to laugh.

"Merle. Shut up" Daryl repeated.

"Shut up yourself, bunch of Pussies-" Rick thwacked him in the head with his gun.

"Asshole" He mumbled to himself.

"That's the best thing you've done all day." Natalia sighed, ignoring that it was the morning.

They had left Merle by the tree, going into the road to talk things out.

Daryl was trying to petition that Merle come back with them.

"It won't work." Rick shook his head. His hands on his hips.

"It's gotta." Daryl said.

"It'll stir things up."

"Look, the Governors probably on the way to the prison right now. Merle knows how he thinks. And we could use the muscle."

"I'm not having him in the prison." Maggie refused.

"Do you really want him sleeping in the same cell block as Carol or Beth?" Glenn asked him.

"He ain't a rapist."

"Are you sure?" Natalia threw out there.

"Well his buddy is." Glenn said, ignoring the look that Maggie had given him, but it seemed like the two other men had taken his comment lightly, this gave Natalia even more fuel to want to kill him.

"They ain't buddies no more. Not after last night."

"There's no way Merles gonna live there without putting everyone at each others throats."

"So you're gonna cut Merle loose and bring the last samurai home with us?" Daryl asked.

"Michonne hasn't tried to kill us." Natalia defended the woman.

"She's not coming back." Rick spoke over the woman.

"She's not in a state to be on her own." Maggie said.

"She did bring you guys to us."

"And then ditched us." Rick pointed out.

"Yeah, to go give our favourite pirate a taste of what his miserable death will be like." Natalia commented.

"Least let my dad stitch her up."

"She's too unpredictable."

"That's right, we don't know who she is."

"Says the man trying to petition Merle to come back with us. If you send her away, I'll go with her, someone's gotta make sure she doesn't die."

"You're not going anywhere" Rick told Natalia.

"Merles blood."

"No, Merle is your blood." Glenn retaliated. "My blood, my family is standing right here, and waiting for us back at the prison."

"And you're apart of that family." Rick told Daryl. "But he's not. He's not.

"Man, ya'll don't know." Daryl looked over at his brother, who was gaining consciousness. "Fine, we'll fend for ourselves."

"That's not what I was saying." Glenn argued.

"No him. No me."

"Daryl, you don't have to do that." Maggie said softly.

"It was always Merle and I before this." He shrugged.

"Daryl, you don't have to do that." Maggie said softly.

"It was always Merle and I before this." He shrugged.

"Don't"

"You serious, you're just gonna leave like that?" Glenn asked.

"You'd do the same thing."

"What do you want us to tell Carol?"

"She'll understand." He nodded at everyone before looking away. "Say goodbye to your pop for me."

"Daryl, are you serious? Daryl!" Maggie tried to stop him.

Daryl continued to walk away, the three watching as Rick caught up to him, talking quietly.

He took his things out of the trunk, saying goodbye to Rick before walking into the woods to his brother.

"Hey, you can come with us too, princess." Merle called out to a scowling Natalia, wiggling his tongue around in his mouth. "Give ol' Merle a bit'a company at night."

"My name is Natalia, and you can both go fuck yourselves." She called back, the older brother laughed, but Daryl bowed his head, walking ahead as Merle draped his arm around his shoulders.

Everyone placed their belongings into the trunk, getting in the car.

Natalia chose to sit shotgun.

Next.