#Multichapter Tag

[derelictlovefool]

Summary: Dean Sinclaire used to consider Jacob Seed his best friend, the only person in the world he could rely on. Now, he was the only person he couldn't run from fast enough. In their years apart the little boy who had promised to take him to the stars had become a living nightmare hellbent on making him the same, would he succumb to his trials or was there a chance he could bring his old friend back to the surface?

Wordcount: 3k

read on ao3

This was insane.

It was more than insane, it couldn't be real—this couldn't be happening.

But it was. No matter how many times Dean Sinclaire blinked or shook his head the blue eyes staring back at him didn't go away. Jacob Seed, a name and a face he hadn't seen in a very long time, stood up on the church's stage with a similar look of shock on his marred face. Dean felt like a deer in headlights, staring down an impending doom he couldn't ever hope to comprehend.

The voices of his Sheriff and the outta town Marshal were like white noise, none of it made it through as Dean stared at his old friend in utter confusion. What the hell had happened to him? A lot by the looks of it. Dean ducks his head down, unable to handle the foreign yet so familiar face zoned in on him. He'd really been hoping the last name of this cult family had been a coincidence, that it was possibly more common than he thought. But now faced with the truth of it all Dean felt the weight of reality crushing him into the old, creaky floorboards.

This sucked. His breath caught in his throat and his ears rang, hands balling up into fists as the Marshal grabbed his shoulder.

"Cuff this guy Rook."

Dean lifted his head.

Joseph Seed stared back at him, a look in his eyes that unsettled Dean and rocked him to his core. It was an expectant look, like he had been waiting for him much longer than the short minutes his superiors had been talking for. He tried not to glance over his shoulder at Jacob but he felt his heavy stare as he cuffed the cult leader, hands shaking as he secured him.

"God will not let you take me." 

The words were sharp. They made Dean want to turn back time and crawl back into his bed and forget he ever got a call from the sheriff.

Dean felt his mouth fall open as Joseph leaned in closer to him, blue eyes glazed by the golden aviators and promising a fate none of them were ready for. He felt like he was going to be sick, the small church was even more suffocating than before. His brown eyes flickered to Jacob, an unconscious action he quickly regretted. There was no comfort to be gained from his face which had steeled, his eyes that had hardened and he looked like nothing but a stranger to Dean. An angry cultist ready to cut his hands off for even daring to put them on his brother.

He realises then he'd never been this close to Joseph, not even when they were kids. He'd only ever waved to him and John from the sidewalk before he and Jacob ran off to their spot. His hands hovered over Joseph's wrists, the little boy who so often had his shirt on inside out now covered in scars and tattoos, he was someone else entirely. His skin was clammy or maybe Dean's was. He tugged Joseph forward, stepping around him and placing his hand on his bare shoulder in a robotic motion. He had to focus, despite so many visions blurring together behind his eyelids and confusing his mind, he had to stay in the present.

He had a job to do and these people were dangerous criminals. The past was the past. He didn't really know them, despite what his mind said to him. Not any more, anyway.

The thoughts churned away in his stomach as he led Joseph out of the church, feeling Jacob and John's eyes burn into the back of his head. He followed his coworkers, almost deaf to the rioting Peggies, blind to their swarming bodies as he stared at the side of Joseph's face. He thought back to the video he'd watched in the chopper, glanced down at Joseph's hands and remembered how they were stained in another man's blood. He remembered a time they'd been covered in paint, did he still like to paint?

What? What the fuck was he thinking? That wasn't important—He sucked in a sharp breath as something knocked into his shoulder, Joey rushing back to him to shove away a Peggie that had apparently gotten too close without him realising.

"Fuck Rook, keep your eyes open! What are you doing?" She shouted at him. He uttered a quiet apology and tightened his grip on Joseph but he couldn't focus, everything felt wrong. This wasn't right. None of this was right. He caught Joseph's gaze and shoved him forward, fighting to get away from those haunted eyes as soon as humanly possible.

This would be over soon and he'd just fucking quit. Forget this ever happened and finally learn how to play the stupid guitar gathering dust in his room. Yeah, that sounded like a good idea. Sounded better than the possibility of having to face whatever this was.

He pushed Joseph into the helicopter, climbed into his seat and buckled himself in, off balance amidst the chaos. Peggies climb over the vehicle like ants, the shouts are like bullets and Dean focuses his gaze on the eyes staring him down. Joseph is singing, he can barely hear it but he can see his lips move as the words flow out. Amazing Grace. Dean swallowed thickly, feeling a hand wrap around his arm and nearly pull him out of the plane. As he kicked the Peggie off of him the chopper lifted off the ground and Joseph, he just kept singing.

Vaguely Dean can remember Jacob mentioning a school choir, the thought of Joseph being in it is soured by his current visage. Any warm feeling Dean could have felt about it is dust in the wind as the chopper went up and bodies dropped down. Bullets whizzed past his head, bounced off the metal and into the blades of the chopper. His coworkers' shouts finally registered in his ears but there was nothing he could do but sit and helplessly listen.

Dean's head knocked back against the headrest, the helicopter turning sideways and wind and smoke stole all the air from his lungs. The horrid feeling of falling filled his gut and the hand that grabbed hold of his flying hand brought not even an ounce of relief. Joseph was still singing even as they descended to the earth. They didn't even make it off the island, the wreckage lying just outside of the compound.

The world was white noise, Dean didn't want to open his eyes, even as he heard Nancy's pleading voice over the radio. He wanted to check on his fellow deputies, his sheriff, the Marshal…. But he had never wanted more for something to be a nightmare. He willed himself to wake up but his body already had and he was still hanging upside down in that fucking chopper. Pain bloomed in his neck as his senses came back to him fully, the sensations and aches all over his body bringing tears to his eyes and forcing them open.

The smoke from the flaming vehicle stung his eyes and he coughed as it snuck past his lips. He could see the Marshal and Joey, both unconscious and looking worse for wear. Dread washed over him at the empty seat in front of him, he twisted his neck to the side but immediately hissed and pulled it back. That hurt. That hurt real bad.

Nancy cried through the radio and Dean tried raising his arms, not to grab the dangling headset but to see if he could unbuckle himself. The faster he got out of here the better. But fate really wasn't on his side today and a hand grabbed his wrist halfway to its destination. Dean wanted to scream, yank his arm away and block him out like a bad memory. But he hadn't been, until now. He'd been a sweet one. 

Joseph crouched down in front of him, and Dean recalled a time he and John peaked down at him from their roof as he hid candy bars under their porch. That was just before they left… Dean squeezed his eyes shut and opened them, fighting away the memory and focusing on the dirtier, bloody image of the man in front of him now. Stay focused. He chided himself silently as Joseph leaned closer.

"I told you God wouldn't let you take me."

Dean wanted to bring his head forward and slam into his, knock him out and maybe give himself a moment to escape but he knew from where he was that would be almost impossible. Joseph grabbed the headset and brought it to his lips, keeping his eyes locked onto Dean as he did. He wanted to watch his expression, see the look in his eyes as he got out what he had to say next.

"Dispatch?"

Nancy gasped, Dean's jaw tensed.

"Everything is fine, no need to call anyone." Joseph's voice is monotone, deceptively soft to anyone not staring into his cold eyes at that moment. Dean tunes out Nancy, the assured tone in Joseph's voice told him all he needed to know about his sweet old coworker. Of course he'd had plants in the department, probably Jacob's idea. He was always the strategist. Dean felt his face twist involuntarily, his emotions clear as day on his face and for a moment it looked like Joseph's softened. Something deep in his eye as he let go of Dean's wrist and cupped his cheek in his hand.

"Jacob used to talk about you every night, when we were in that old barn… He missed you…" Joseph studied his face as he spoke quietly, gaze calculating and his touch anything but welcoming. Joseph nodded to himself after a moment, a silent thought he didn't voice lost on Dean as he finally turned and crawled out of the helicopter's decomposing carcass. Peggies rushed to him, shouting in rejoice of his safety and Dean brought his arms up again to grab at his seat belt.

That white noise returned as tears welled in Dean's eyes. What the fuck had been the point of telling him that? It would have been kinder to stab him.

He cursed as he fumbled with the belt, noticing Joey and the Marshal beginning to stir as Joseph spoke to his followers in a loud, booming voice. A voice that commanded attention yet failed to keep Dean's. He glanced at Joey, a fleeting thought to maybe reach over and help her out first fizzled away by the sight of familiar red hair once again. Jacob stood by the car his brother had taken to standing on, his blue eyes zeroed in on him with a look he could no longer read.

Panic filled him. It was odd. He'd never been scared of Jacob, not once. But right now… He felt a pang of fear at how he was looking at him.

"Begin the reaping!" Joseph's voice roared out into the night air and like a tape being put into fast forward everything started buzzing forward at an alarming rate. Anxiety built up in Dean as the Peggies descended on the helicopter, he shouted uselessly as they grabbed Joey, grabbed onto her and tried to yank her back into the helicopter as they dragged her out. He cried out in frustration as she slipped through his fingers and again as flames erupted and pushed back the oncoming Peggies.

The Marshal was out of there before he could blink, the Sheriff and Staci had been pulled out by the Peggies and Dean finally got his seat belt off in a messy motion. His neck ached as he hit the roof of the chopper and he almost cried from the anger he felt, flopping onto his side before he crawled out of the ticking time bomb. He fretted seeing Jacob waiting for him but as he pushed himself up and began to run nothing stopped him, no one grabbed him. Bullets whizzed past his head but he avoided the cascade of them as he sucked and swerved through the trees.

Dean skidded down the wet forest floor, jumped over a small trickle of water and stones, climbed up a steep hillside and past a bridge that looked far too out in the open to have crossed from the other side. He was running on adrenaline and he almost missed the radio call from the Marshal spouting off his vague location. He was still thinking about the haunting faces that refused to leave his mind.  What had gone so wrong, what could have led them here? He had so many questions, so many regrets and no way to get conciliation with any of them.

Somehow, almost by pure dumb luck, Dean stumbled upon the trailer the Marshal was hiding away in. He carefully made his way to the door, glancing over his shoulder as he turned the handle. Hands grabbed onto the front of his uniform and yanked him inside, he gasped from the swift movement and blindly grabbed at his attacker. The Marshal's face became clear in his vision and he threw his hands up in defense.

"Wait! It's me, it's me!" Dean squawked, twisting away and frantically waving his hands in an attempt to dissuade the Marshal's misguided attack on him. Relief and recognition washed over the Marshal's face and his shoulders slumped as he lowered his arm.

"Oh fuck Rook, you made it, thank God."

The Marshal patted his shoulders in a friendly way but Dean didn't lower his arms, he really just wanted to go home. He cautiously followed after the Marshal as he walked further into the trailer, pausing as he grabbed a mock family photo off the wall and smashed it to the ground with a promise to put them all away. Dean stared down at it, three faces he knew and one he'd never seen before. Well, they may as well all have been strangers to him, the three men nothing like the three boys seared into his memory.

"We're gonna get out of this Rookie, first things first, we gotta arm ourselves—Here." The Marshal pulled Dean from his frozen stance, tossing him a gun. Dean fumbled but caught it, watching as he grabbed another gun and checked it over. This was really happening. He was stuck on an island full of people who wanted him dead and his childhood friend and his siblings were at the forefront of it all. Fuck, how did he get here?

"Okay, here's what we're gonna do…"

Dean had never envisioned himself as a cop, never envisioned himself living in a County in Montana either. Of all places, why did he end up here? Of all places, why did they end up here? What sick and twisted turn of fate was this? This was not how movies showed reunions going down, one party turned into a cult and the other a cop meant to arrest them. This was so out of the realm of possibilities Dean had run over in his head, it was unfair. This was all un-fucking-fair.

"You hearin' me Rook?" The Marshal shoved his shoulder and he realized he hadn't heard a word he'd said to him.

"Man this is life or death right now are you really daydreaming on me?" The Marshal asked incredulously and Dean bowed his head bashfully.

"Sorry I… Fuck. I'm just—I don't know." Dean ran a hand down his face, a tightness building in his chest as he put himself into a ready position. He shook his head and forced his gaze back up to the window.

"Okay look, just—"

"Come around here! Check the trailer first!"

Dean's heart sank just as fast as the Marshal's face dropped. He shushed Dean as his mouth flew open to ask what the plan was and Dean nodded wordlessly, gripping his gun nervously. He'd never been in a firefight before, fuck he'd never used a gun before. The one the department gave him was more of a prop and he never even had it loaded. This was so fucked.

The Marshal nodded towards the other window and Dean crouched down and shuffled towards it, gasping as the Peggies began to shout and the glass in front of him exploded from a bullet breaking through. He ducked down and hid under the frame, heart hammering in his chest as he watched the Marshal shoot out the window with a confident aim Dean knew he didn't have in him. Still, he couldn't let him go at this alone so he sucked up his fear and pushed himself back up.

He fired warning shots, close to the Peggies but nowhere near landing on them. The Marshal hurried out of the trailer to make ground, firing away as Dean provided him cover. A bullet went right past Dean's cheek, the heat and sting searing his skin and forcing him back for a moment. Fighting the shock Dean messily reloaded his gun and followed the Marshal out of the trailer, ducking down behind the small cover they had.

"Keep 'em off me Rook I'm goin' for the truck!" The Marshal instructed him through a short yell, not giving him time to reply as he jumped up and started moving. Dean swirled to a kneeling position and raised his gun, firing a shot at a Peggie pointing their gun right at the Marshal. Time seemed to slow as his bullet made impact with their body, he hadn't meant to actually hit them. He froze, watching their body curl and face twist into one of pure agony. The world went quiet, white noise enveloping the shouting and gunfire. 

He watched as the Peggie fell out of sight and he felt his stomach drop. Had he just…? 

"Rook, cover me!"

A bullet clipped his hair, another skidded over his shoulder.

He moved in slow motion, firing more shots at the Peggies and making the ballsy ones duck for cover. His vision got blurry, his throat tightened and his hands shook as he heard the truck engines start. He kept glancing to where the Peggie he shot had fallen, praying to see their matted hair pop back up and an angry face glower at him again.

But they didn't.

"Rook, get in!" The Marshal stopped the truck and shouted at him and Dean didn't dawdle, he jumped up and into the truck, falling into the passenger seat and slamming the door closed. Everything felt like a bad trip, Dean felt like he was about to puke and he hung his head between his knees as the Marshal began to drive, bullets reverberating off the truck's shell.

"Fuck…" He whimpered, squeezing his eyes shut and shaking his head as he sucked in deep breaths. Panic spread out along all of his limbs and he rocked gently as he tried to keep his breathing even. He just killed someone, he just killed someone—

"We're not outta the woods yet Rookie, up ahead!" The Marshal yanked him back up, and he was right back in the seemingly never-ending nightmare.

[andaniellight]

Hey has anyone made a fic where in the first weeks of being a straw hat crew Sanji and the others discussed about the importance of celebrating birthdays on the going merry and of course out of the five of them it's Zoro who couldn't care less about his birthday except if they're going to celebrate it with lots of alcohols and no sweets, cakes, whatever the hell those kinds of atrocities. But because Sanji was only 19, raised by Jeff for years which means he's petty as hell, he took that as a challenge to make mosshead obsess with his own birthday for the rest of his life.

He even told the whole crew to plan it with him. The kind of special birthday that can be make Zoro want to stay sober enough to enjoy without feeling guilty bullshit. All of the straw hats are onboard of course—hah! Onboard. Obviously they are. Mainly because they will all get to feast on so many meals and desserts prepared by their insanely skilled chef. All Sanji's got to do is prepare the most Zoro-kind of birthday cake and a banquet that will alter Zoro's remaining braincells forever. Maybe even make a bunch of pavlovas that taste like alcohol also. Won't hurt and worth to try, right?

[paradoxlemonade]

@mcyt-summer-of-yuri gift for @sooonah !!! It's Gempearl in a Secret Life mage AU <3

[meatgrinder-0]

does anyone have gen/non shipping gf fic recommendations specifically ford focused ones . that actually write him well. i literally cannot find any more good ones. the well is empty.

[reading-writing-dying]

I am supposed to be sleeping but instead I wrote an angsty little oneshot about Shiny Duo divorce while watching Gem's phasmo vod from today

[nell0-0]

Still working on this btw

Avoiding conflict is conflictive

Chapter 4: A couple's banter

Malon and Time keep proving why they're the best for each other while the chain's struggles continue.

At first I wasn't gonna write this much for Malon's part but her dynamic with Time is very fun to mess around with

[anonymous-dentist]

love that bd!Cellbit is such an odd guy that apparently all the supernatural people he’s encountering either assume he’s some kind of creature or willing to be. The amount of times people have implied he might be a vampire? Iconic.

Oh you bite people? It’d be more normal to assume your a creature of the night rather than just the Weirdest Guy to encounter

This idea of the Weirdest Guy Alive being surrounded by supernatural creatures was the whole reason I wrote the fic in the first place lol, it's just such a funny concept that I had to run with it while I still could

[sirenspells]

Drew a sort of cover for the fic I just finished and will be (hopefully) uploading soon!

[astriiformes]

Annoying that I am in such a writing slump lately, because almost no one is writing the gen Laios whump I want so badly to read, and every time I have the thought "I should fix this" my brain absolutely bluescreens

[mimicteruyo]

Has Hell frozen over? It's a new multichapter Mimic fic!

The Day Tenshi Hinanawi Disappeared

Word Count: 16,800 Rating: T Characters: Tenshi Hinanawi, Reimu Hakurei, Marisa Kirisame, Hecatia Lapislazuli, Iku Nagae (+ a bunch of smaller roles and cameos) Summary: It's a day like any other, with one crucial difference: Tenshi Hinanawi is nowhere around. It's as if she's somehow gone back to Heaven without a single word of farewell.

Only… she is still right there in Gensokyo. And getting more annoyed by the moment. Whoever's behind her "disappearance" is going to be sorry. Even if that means she has to go to Hell and back.

[derelictlovefool]

Summary: Dean Sinclaire used to consider Jacob Seed his best friend, the only person in the world he could rely on. Now, he was the only person he couldn't run from fast enough. In their years apart the little boy who had promised to take him to the stars had become a living nightmare hellbent on making him the same, would he succumb to his trials or was there a chance he could bring his old friend back to the surface?

Wordcount: 4.5k

read on ao3!

The sun was way too fucking bright. Dean squeezed his eyes tighter as if that would protect him from the rays seeping through the curtains. It didn't have much effect other than making his eyes hurt. He buried his face away into the pillow under him, abruptly tossing his head back as he landed in a damp spot.

"What the fu…" He groaned, realisation dawned on him as he wiped his face. He'd drooled, real nice. He rolled onto his back as he tried to wipe his face clean on his sleeve, dropping his hand back to the mattress when he figured he'd gotten most of it. He heaved a sigh, feeling the heaviness of sleep slowly leave each limb as he laid there. He had a small throbbing in his forehead and really hoped he hadn't ended up with a hangover, he didn't have that much to drink—as far as he could remember.

He was hesitant to sit, but pulled himself up slowly. Sure enough the pain in his forehead flooded the rest of his brain the moment he was upright and he groaned, covering his face with his hands. This is why he didn't drink, stupid hangovers. He lifted his head after a moment of trying to will the pain away, glancing around the room and spotting a door to what he assumed was a small bathroom. He pushed himself to the edge of the bed, standing with some effort and stretching until he felt that satisfying pop between his shoulder blades. His body ached even more than it had yesterday and he shuffled across the floor to the bathroom, shrugging off his shirt and unbuttoning his pants as he went.

The shower in the bathroom was cramped but he could care less, he was just happy to be under warm water and scrubbing the grime off his skin. He didn't allow himself to stay under the stream long after he was clean, not wanting to waste any resources unnecessarily. They would no doubt get more people flooding the town in search of safety and they'd need every last drop of gas they could get. Dean grabbed the towel conveniently hanging on the towel rack, drying himself off and staring down at his dirty clothes with disdain.

He tried the closet in the corner, rummaging around and finding a clean pair of underwear and socks. A knock on the door stopped him from pulling on the blood and dirt covered jeans he'd picked off the ground, giving him pause as he swiveled around to look at the wood grain. His movements were too fast and he winced at the spike of pain in his temple.

"Deputy, you awake yet?" Mary May's voice came through the door, muffled and sounding like she could use some shut eye herself. Did she get any sleep last night?

"Yeah, yeah I'm up." He called back, stepping closer to the door to hear her better.

"Got some clothes for you, from the lost and found box. You'd be surprised how many people strip in here and just leave their shit." She continued and Dean had to laugh at the mental image of half naked drunk patrons in the bar and also the convenience of it all. Maybe today wouldn't be as shit as yesterday, maybe whatever omnipotent being there was looking down on them would be nice to him for once.

"Thanks, you didn't have too."

"Yeah I know, I'll leave 'em by the door for you. We got some stuff to talk about before you head off so don't run off right away alright?" Mary May replied with a smile in her voice, he heard the shuffling of clothes being put on the floor. Dean nodded, despite the woman not being able to see him.

"Yeah, got it. Thanks again." He leant against the door frame, chucking the dirty jeans to the side as he spoke. Mary May gave the other side of the door a firm pat before he heard her walk off down the stairs. He waited for another second before opening the door and picking up the pile of clothes. He picked whatever fit, landing on a Cougars t-shirt and faded blue jeans. He had been hoping for a jacket but he'd have to make do without, it wouldn't kill him either way. He pulled on his boots and tucked his dirty clothes into a pile on a chair by the door—he doubted he'd be getting to do any laundry for a while.

Blair sat at one of the tables and waved at him as he came down the stairs, he waved back before abruptly reeling back as a guy rushed by hurriedly with his hands full of boxes. Upon further inspection he noted a few other patrons idling around, it seemed a few people had made their way to Fall's End during the night. That was good, the more manpower the better. Mary May waved him over once she caught his eye and he meandered over to the bar.

"Mornin' sunshine, how's your head?" Mary May greeted with a knowing smile after spotting him wince at the lights. He chuckled and took a seat, sighing heavily and running a hand through his damp hair.

"Hurts a bit but nothin' I can't handle." He said, resting his hands on his knees and ignoring the fact every sound was just that bit louder than it should be.

"I have a special hangover cure I can whip up if you want?" Mary May offered, resting a hand on her hip and studying Dean's face. He paused, weighing up the offer before deflating slightly. It was that or suffer all day—well, more than he was already about to.

"Yeah okay."

"Okay," she stepped back and began grabbing bottles from behind the counter, setting a glass in front of Dean. As she disappeared into the kitchen to get some other mystery ingredients the front door opened, Jerome walking in—Boomer skittering through his legs and beelining for Dean.

"Good morning deputy, get any sleep?"

"I did," Dean looks over the eyebags on the other man's face with a small sympathetic smile, "doesn't look like you got any." He muses, reaching down to scratch under Boomer's chin. The dog's tail wagged at the speed of a propeller and the way his tongue lolled out of his mouth was almost cute enough to distract Dean from his headache.

"I'll sleep when this is all over, don't worry about me. What we need to be worrying about is checking on our people." Jerome replied, walking over to sit beside Dean. He patted his shoulder, squeezing it lightly before letting his hand fall. Dean noted he had his bible in his other hand, clutched to his chest protectively. It must have brought him a lot of comfort, Dean envied him for having something like that.

He nodded, head bowing back down to the bar as he took a second to actually take in Jerome's words. Mary May came back, cracking an egg into the glass smoothly as well as something else he couldn't recognise. She chuckled at his expression as he clearly paled at the thought of swallowing a raw egg. He'd done it in the past, who hadn't at least once, but still; not a great taste. She slid the glass toward him, full of her apparent mystery hangover cure that didn't look totally awful despite the raw egg and mystery ingredient.

"Uh, thanks…" He took it, watching Mary May as if to check if she was playing a prank—she wasn't. She smiled expectantly and Dean decided chugging it was the best course of action, he took a small breath and threw it back. It was cold, which was nice, but the taste left a lot to be desired. Once he was finished he scrunched his face up at the aftertaste, Jerome and Mary May failed to hide their laughter. It was nice to hear, even if it was at his expense.

"Uhm ta—" he coughs, the taste still on his tongue, "—talking about our people… Dutch told me John has my partner Joey and that you folks might be able to help me get her back." He gets the words out, voice smoothing out by the end of it. His headache wasn't instantly cured like he'd hoped for but there was a small sensation of relief. He also noted how odd it felt to talk about John, his name sticking to his tongue like a bad taste. The last time he'd said his name was when he was younger and he'd been teasing Jacob for being such a softie around his brothers. He had been talking about a much different boy back then.

Jerome and Mary May shot each other a look as he slid the glass back to the bartender, shaking the thought away. He didn't need any random reminiscing today. Their reactions weren't promising but he tried not to assume the worst. Dean pursed his lips into a thin line as Mary May let out a long sigh and rested both hands on the bar. Again, not a great sign.

"I get you want your partner back deputy, but we don't have enough man power to take on John Seed just yet. We need to spread out, help our people where we can and build up to that." She reasoned, gaze firm as she spoke.

Dean frowned, hands falling to his knees. He got where she was coming from, but that didn't stop it from being frustrating to high hell. He was just one deputy, he needed his team to function here. The people who had been doing this job for longer and actually knew their way around the County. Jerome reached over to place a hand on his shoulder and the gesture was far less comforting this time around.

"As soon as we have enough people, we will get your partners back, that is a promise deputy. But there are people that need us right now and we'll need all hands on deck." Jerome squeezed Dean's shoulder with his last few words and he nodded. It was hard to swallow, knowing he'd have to leave Joey, Staci and Lola to fend for themselves… It wasn't like he had much of a choice here though. He needed these people, without them he had no support and he'd get gunned down before he could even reach Joey.

He was only one guy and without the guidance or backup from the locals he was kind of screwed. His only option was to work with them and hope they stayed true to their word and that his team wouldn't kick the bucket before they got around to getting them away from the Seeds. This was a game of trust and luck, neither things that came easy to Dean. But what else could he do?

"Okay then," he let out a deep breath, "where do we start?"

Dean cut the ties around one of the hostages wrists, glancing to the side and spotting his newly gained helping hand Grace Armstrong. He'd gotten himself lost again despite Mary May and Blair's directions and picked up a distress call from her. The church her old man was buried at had been under fire from peggies and he'd stopped to help, it didn't feel right to ignore it after he'd heard it. The graves had gotten a bit messed up but not totally irreparable and Grace had agreed to tag along with him as thanks for his help, which he appreciated. She was skilled with her sniper and she was quiet on her feet, which was coming in handy here.

Grace untied another hostage across the way and gave him a firm nod as they locked eyes. There were only two left and then they were done here and no peggies had been taken out lethally which eased some of the weight on Dean's chest. He hadn't asked Grace to follow his non-lethal take downs but she'd seemed to have just chosen to follow his lead and pull peggies into bushes in a mirrored fashion to how he had anyway. He appreciated it, he'd heard enough snapping bones and gunshots for a lifetime.

After helping the hostage to a safer place he crouch walked to meet up with Grace, stopping beside her in some tall grass. There were four peggies left, one sitting on a stack of hay and playing guitar with another sitting in front of them and listening serenely. The other two marched around the church their hostages were in, all very out in the open and not as conveniently hidden as the others had been.

"What's the plan?" Grace asked in a whisper, her eyes calculating as she scoped out the scene. Dean didn't have one but he couldn't say that so he sucked in a breath through his teeth and rolled his shoulders.

"You get the ones at the church, I'll get wonderwall."

Grace snorted, which surprised Dean as well as herself it seemed. She glanced back at him before clearing her throat and pulling her cap down a fraction to hide her face. He admitted thinking she didn't laugh had probably been a rude assumption but her demeanor up until now had been pretty stoic. Well, good to know anyway. Mediocre jokes were back on the table and he'd be sure to toss them her way—when appropriate. A badly time joke might get a different reaction he didn't want to see.

"Got it, should be quick." She muttered, pushing herself up and staying low as she began to loop around to the church on the right side of the small clearing. Dean smiled, he missed that sort of thing. Funny little awkward interactions, it was never something he thought he'd miss but he really did. It was nice to watch someone get a little flustered over something small and inconsequential, given the circumstances. Not that he missed being the flustered one though, that he'd avoid for a while longer.

He copied her swiftness, making his way to the opposite side of the church to sneak up on guitar guy and his audience of one. This would be a little tricky but if he and Grace were as in sync as they had been so far it would be quick and easy. He'd just take down guitar guy, avoid getting shot and take out the other one hopefully around the time Grace is done with her two. Easy.

In theory.

Dean's limbs weren't as cooperative as they had been yesterday and he was sloppy. He jumped out from his hiding spot, hit the guitar playing peggie over the head and watched the shock and horror wash over the other peggie's face. Immediately she was standing and throwing herself at Dean, he moved back but her hand wrapping around the fabric of his shirt and his foot getting caught on something threw him off balance. Before he knew it he was on his back with the ache in his head doubled and the peggie's hands wrapped around his neck.

She shouted at him, spittle hitting his cheeks as she went red in the face from how ferociously she damned his soul. He floundered for a moment, dazed by the impact, before one hand wrapped around her wrist and the other searched the dirt around him. His breathing was being cut short, the pressure on his jugular cutting off airflow and causing him to gasp uselessly like a fish out of water. His hand hit something hard and he didn't think, he wrapped around it and brought it down on her temple as hard as he could from his position.

The peggie shouted in pain and recoiled, hands slipping away from his throat and allowing him to suck in deep, needy breaths. He followed her as he gasped for air, noting the deep red blood pooling down the side of her face. His stomach curdled at the sight but he pushed forward, using his weight to knock her to the side and wrapping his arm around her neck. Now it was her turn to claw at his arm and gasp for breath, except her hands were covered in her own blood and slipped uselessly off his arm as they could find no real purchase.

It took a minute but she fell limp and as he laid her down gently he heard multiple sets of footsteps behind him. He turned, spotting Grace and the hostages walking up to him; the three men looking more than a little shaken up. He stood, ignoring the way his forearms were now coated in blood. She was still alive, it was just a small head wound, it was okay.

It didn't feel okay.

"We gotta escort these folks outta here real quick dep, a bunch of peggies are gonna be on our asses real soon." Grace told him, adjusting her vest as she began walking past him.

"Wha— Why's that?" He asked, falling in step with her despite his confusion. They'd barely made any noise how would anyone know they were here?

"They were coming to get these three ready for John's baptisms. We got here just in time but we gotta get a move on." Grace was firm in her words, sounding like the seasoned vet she was. Dean shut his mouth and decided it best to just follow along with no more questions. Baptisms? Was John qualified to do that? Dean didn't know much about baptists but he was sure you needed a fancy piece of paper or a blessing from the pope to do that or something. Yeah, he had no idea.

John had never liked church when they were younger, what had cha—Wait. No more reminiscing. Right. Dean cleared his throat, forcing himself to focus on the path ahead as they trekked through the parse woods.

The small group made it over a hill, Grace all but leading the charge as they beelined for the river. Dean hadn't signed up for swimming today but the thought of getting the blood off of his arms was very appealing. And as he came in contact with the cool water he felt an amazing rush of energy course through his tired limbs. As they waded further into the river he washed the sticky liquid off of his arms, glancing back at Grace and the three men before focusing ahead of him.

They were almost in the clear.

Almost.

A gunshot, a splash of water and a sharp yell shattered the relief. Dean's body tensed as bullets rained into the water, Grace was quick to raise her sniper and put down the two peggies shooting at them from the other side but his heart was already hammering in his chest.

"Okay, move it or lose it!" He shouted back at the three men, pushing into the deeper water until he had to start swimming. He was clumsy in the water, he always had been, even the three panicking men got ahead of him. Grace helped him out at the other side, both of them ducking as another wave of bullets poured out of the tree line. Dean pulled Grace behind a boulder, the three men ducking behind different trees. Grace jumped back up, perching her sniper on the boulder and firing off some more shots.

The other gunshots stopped and Grace tapped his shoulder, a signal to move. He swiveled out from the boulder and moved forward, the three men on his tail and Grace right behind them as they continued toward their destination. Dean didn't really have a good sense of where that destination was but one of the men took the lead and set them on the right track. Dean followed closely, glancing around to check for any other peggies as they made their way through a trail.

Distant shouts dug their way into his bones and if it weren't for the adrenaline in his veins he would have ducked down and run in the opposite direction. As he watched the direction the shouts came from he ran into one of the three men who had stopped short on the trail. Dean's mouth opened to ask why but he paused as he looked over the three men's shoulders. A brown bear stood in front of the small group, black, beady eyes staring right back at him. Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Not good. Very not good.

Dean reeled back enough to bump into Grace who grabbed his shoulder with a bruising grip, dark eyes urging him to get his shit together. He swallowed the lump in his throat, mind fraying as the bear reared onto it's back legs. The three men immediately scrambled and sent the bear into attack mode. Dean and Grace fled into opposite directions, Grace following two of the men while Dean followed the one left. They didn't make it far before familiar symbols emerged from the tree, dirty faces and guns coming into view.

"Oh for fuck's sake!" Dean cursed, grabbing the civilian and pulling him behind a tree. Gunshots and the bear's angry roar mingled together in the air, all paled by the loudness of Dean's heartbeat in his eardrums. The peggies angry shouting turned to frightened screams and Dean dared to peer around the tree, spotting the bear jumping on two peggies and taking them down. Not wanting to test his luck he yanked the civilian back in the direction they ran, hopefully they could take advantage of the distraction and get out of there.

"I'll follow you, move!" Dean said, shoving the guy in front of him and urging him to lead. And he did so clumsily, glancing back as he ran and Dean wasn't sure if he was checking if he was still there or if the bear had followed after them. He wasn't about to check for the latter, he kept his gaze forward. Relief bloomed in him as he spotted Grace and the other two civilians, up ahead on the trail. Grace glanced back and nodded once she saw him, something of a hint of a smile on her face.

They all continued forward as the horrified screams died out and the bears roars were the only thing heard. They'd put enough distance between them now that hopefully it wouldn't follow them and even if it did Dean's job was done once these guys got wherever they were going. And that very destination was not as far as he'd thought, he almost ran through it before Grace caught the crook of his elbow. He swiveled around and screwed his face up in confusion, heart still hammering in his chest and mind still reeling from the close bear encounter.

"What?" He asks through shallow breaths, "This is it?" Dean didn't mean to sound so judgey but after having a near death experience it just made the small camp feel like an insult. He almost got attacked by a bear and shot by peggies for this? No wonder they got kidnapped, there was nothing here to defend! Grace had a similar exasperated expression but dimly shook her head, resting her hands on her knees to catch her breath.

"It's not much but it's been a good base camp, we really appreciate you helpin' us out." One of the men stepped forward to offer his gratitude to Dean and he forced his mouth into a polite smile.

Awesome. Cool. Cool, cool, cool. Very cool.

He nodded and looked back at Grace, who seemed to be the only one picking up on his irritation and she offered a half-amused, half-sympathetic smile. Her chest was still heaving from the panicked run they'd all jumped into but she kept her calm facade up as she glanced back from where they came from.

"What's gonna stop peggies from stopping in and getting you again?" He couldn't help but ask, looking back at the three men; he didn't want to be saving the same three people over and over again. Or worse save them only for them to get killed an hour later. That would create a small crack in his ever thinning patience and resolve for sure.

"The peggies didn't find us at our camp they got us while we were oit hunting, we can hold down the fort here deputy don't you worry!" One of the men wearing a Cougars cap saluted him, which would have been funny if Dean hadn't felt like he'd aged ten years in the span of five minutes.

"Okay," Dean took a calming breath, "stay safe." He offered, stepping around to Grace and watching the men busy themselves with re-arming and reloading their weapons. He just had to accept this, if he didn't he'd have a hernia.

"Will do!"

"Gotcha!"

"You got it dep."

Grace patted his shoulder as he began walking back down the hill in the opposite direction of where the bear was, falling into step with him as they walked. They both kept eyeing the trees, paranoid of running into the grizzly again. Grace allowed for a moment of breathing room, silence draping over them for a moment as their fraying nerves slowly fell back into line. But not completely.

"It may not feel like much," she muttered, "but in the bigger picture this was worth it. We just saved three lives. That's not nothing." Grace spoke as if reading his mind and he sighed, clenching his shaking hands in attempts to stop the trembling. She was right. This was something, three less people for Eden's Gate to torture. Three less names on the list of people he wasn't able to help. It felt good—just anticlimactic. All that build up for a tiny camp barely hidden away with a chance either the peggies or bear would find them with barely any effort.

Well, he and Grace had done their part here and there was nothing more they could do. There were plenty more people in need of help right now—more people Jerome and Mary May had advised he check on. He couldn't help but muse that having Grace around might make the wrong turns happen a lot less.

"You feel like tagging along a little longer?" He asked once his breathing had evened out and they trudged through denser trees and foliage at the base of the mountains. It didn't hurt to ask. He kept his eyes forward and could just make out a small house tucked away in the trees, if it weren't half burnt down it might have made for a nice shelter for the night. He spotted Grace giving a firm nod at his proposal from his peripheral.

"For as long as you need me dep." She replied, patting his shoulder blades, a gesture that felt solid and like a promise in its own right. He wasn't sure she meant it, but if she did then he was glad. Having her steady presence made that last encounter just a bit easier.

[wikiangela]

gonna finally make a tag list

so, if you wanna be tagged whenever I post new fics, please interact with this post

[paradoxlemonade]

My @mcyt-summer-of-yuri gift for @garlicsbreadcrust!

Princesses Pearl and Lizzie share a sweet moment at a royal gala... Let's give them some privacy <3

[dsevalyappuccino]

Doodles of like... A CrossDust daughter i made. A menace to society.

Her name is Iris. She's somewhere around teen age, didn't really think(okay i don't usually do shipchilds but I cannot resist)

The other character at the upper right corner is Aurora, a ColorKiller shipchild created by my friend @unlikelyluxbeloved

Dust by Ask-Dusttale Blog

Cross by Jakei

[artemistorm]

I wonder if the reason why I tend to get overlooked as an LU writer is because I tend to write for Wild and Hyrule and not the "cool" Links like Legend, Warriors, Time or Four.