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until-theend-oftheline · 5 years

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Out of the Shadows - Part 2: In her Shadow

Pairing: Clint Barton x Reader

Warnings: Minor character death(s), domestic abuse (mentioned), underage rape (hinted, not glorified what so ever and not graphic), incest (hinted, not glorified what so ever and not graphic).

Square Filled: Domestic Abuse (marvel fandom) for @badthingshappenbingo and Crying for @clintbartonbingo

Word Count: 2700ish

A/N: This is written for @thorne93 writing challenge. I am so sorry I am late! The entire series is for her challenge and it’s inspired by Greek Tragedy by the Wombats and Drive you mad by Amy Shark.

Clint is a mix between comic book version and MCU. He is deaf and has no wife and kids. The world is a bit closer to MCU and it takes place somewhere between CAWS and CACW mostly.

Betaed by: @jewels2876 thanks darling

Out of the Shadows Masterlist

***My fics are not to be saved nor posted on any other sites without my express written permission.***

The Black Hood, or Aurora as she had named herself to Clint, had learned from a young age to trust no one. Everyone close to her had hurt her or let her down in some way or another. You can’t get hurt if you don’t ever let anyone close to you.

Clint had challenged Aurora in her ways of thinking over the years. Sometimes directly, telling her that everyone needed somebody sometimes. He told her of his best friend and how she once hadn’t been all that different from Aurora. He told her how she hadn’t trusted anyone but herself and even still to this day kept her walls up to most people. She had seen the value in friendships though. She believed in loyalty and love even if she might not be willing to let most people know that just yet.

Aurora smiled when Clint spoke of Natasha. Not just because she agreed they were anything alike, but because Clint always spoke of her with such warmth. The smile on his face was contagious and he had a way of making her a part of his life through his words. Soon she didn’t only feel as if she knew Natasha, but also the rest of the team Clint became part of. Bruce was as broken as she felt at times. Tony struggled with demons just like her. Thor had pride and belief in his own skills that she saw in herself as well and Steve Rogers sounded like he was just about as stubborn as Clint kept reminding her that she was herself.

Clint made her feel like she was a part of something the one time a year he visited her. He offered her a way that she really could be, but even if it became increasingly alluring she couldn’t make herself take that leap. Not even for the man that she trusted with her face, her heists, and her heart.

Aurora hadn’t loved anyone or anything for a long, long time. Even if she wouldn’t admit her feelings to his face, or even to herself, they became increasingly harder to deny. His kisses made her toes curl, his arms tightly wrapped around her made her feel safe and laughing with him gave her a sense of home. All sensations she hadn’t felt for years, if even ever. Which was the reason she hadn’t let the relationship go beyond the kisses and cuddles they somehow always ended up sharing, talking about the year that had past.

When Aurora needed something she would go out and get it. No matter if it was a drink, food, dance, sex or something else. She attached no emotions to the action or whoever she did it with but with Clint… she couldn’t do that. She wanted to be with him. She thought about how he would feel. How he would make her feel. She even thought about what the moments would be like after. Which scared her most of all. So she wouldn’t let their relationship go that far. Just being in his company, made her want to trust him and it became harder and harder for her to turn him down, whenever he asked her to come back with him. She couldn’t. She had done things no one could forgive, not even Clint. She would end up hurt and alone again. Living alone was easier and safer. Life was better on her own.

It didn’t stop her from thinking about him in the year that passed between him dropping from a vent in whatever hotel room she was staying in at the time. Even if she had grown to expect him every year on the anniversary date of when he first appeared, he always managed to scare the crap out of her dumping from the ceiling. Clint had almost gotten himself shot over the years on that account and he most definitely had gotten several punches on that account. Still hadn’t prevented him from appearing that way until the day he showed two months before their anniversary knocking on her hotel door.

Aurora looked through the peephole on the door, before lowering her gun with a frown. She quickly holstered it before pushing open the door looking past Clint up and down the hallways before stepping to the side, letting him in.

“Did you lose your calendar? And who taught you how doors work?” she teased as she closed the door, but stopped when she turned around. Unshed tears welled in his eyes as he stood a few feet from her taking her in.

“I needed to see you,” he confessed and Aurora instinctively opened her arms to him, inviting him closer.

“I’m here,” she promised as Clint took a few quick steps forward into her embrace. He leaned forward, resting his head against her shoulder, letting his tears fall as he wrapped her arms around her waist and she put hers around him.

“It’s okay. I got you. I’m here,” she repeated as she hold him, letting him cry against her as long as he needed to. Not until his body stopped shaking and his tears subsided did she lead him towards the couch in the middle of her suite.

“Do you wanna tell me about it?” she asked gently as she sat down next to him, keeping her hand in his. She gave it a small squeeze as Clint took a deep breath, letting it out slowly as he began telling her his side of the story she had already been following on the News.

He told her about how Tony had created Ultron fearing the battle of New York that the Avengers had won a few years ago wouldn’t be the last attack the world would have to face from space. He didn’t trust the Avengers would be enough to hold back another attack and that they would be able to keep the world safe so he had created what he thought would be mankind's best defense.

He told her of the twins from Sokovia, that Clint had quickly grown to feel responsible for even if he had no reason too. He didn’t explain it like that but Aurora thought it to herself. Clint had a huge heart. Bigger than anyone she had ever met before in her life, and he seemed to just naturally collect broken people. Natasha, Aurora, Wanda, and Pietro. When he hadn’t been able to protect the latter when the young man, in fact, had died saving Clint’s life it had shattered him. He had held it together for the other’ and for Wanda, the twin sister. Normally he would have gone to Natasha with something like this, but from what Aurora could gather she was suffering too, only for different reasons. This battle had taken a toll on her and Clint hadn’t wanted to burden her too.

More than that Natasha hadn’t been the one he needed. Aurora ignored him telling her that. Being needed was almost as bad as needing someone else. It only got you hurt. Instead, she wrapped her arms around him again, gently rocking him in her arms in silence for a while.

“I love you,” Clint muttered tightening his hold on her when Aurora froze. He had expected her to react like that but he could no longer hold back what he had been feeling for years. She was more than just a mission to him. In fact, she hadn’t been since SHIELD had fallen and yet here he was seeking her out year after year because he wanted too. Because he needed her to know that he cared, that someone else could too. She could have a family if only she chose to come back home with him.

“No you don’t” Aurora released her hold on him, pushing him away from her with a hard look. So hard it made Clint flinch and Aurora almost regretted her action. If only he hadn’t said that. He was already hurting and she didn’t want to hurt him further. He was wrong though. He didn’t love her. He loved the idea of her. Just like men before he had. Men she had let stay in their belief until she had stolen their money and disappeared in the night. Clint wasn’t those men. She didn’t want to lie to him any more than she was willing to let him lie to himself.

“I do,” Clint looked down, to avoid the fire shooting from the woman’s eyes.

“You think you do. But you don’t know me. You don’t know the things I’ve done,” she hissed and Clint looked back up at her shaking his head.

“I don’t judge people by their worst mistakes. So even if I knew, which I don’t because you refuse to let me in ...” Clint yelled, but when he saw the shook on her face he stopped. He took a deep breath, before calmly finishing his sentence. “It wouldn’t change how I feel about you.”

Aurora looked at him in disbelief as she let his words sink in. She opened and closed her mouth a few times before she made a decision she never thought she made. She told him the truth. The truth she had never in her life shared with another person. A truth she had been carrying on her own for over half of her life.

“I killed my parents,” she blurted out, hoping to shook Clint to take back his words but he didn’t even as much as flinch, so she continued. “I killed my parents and I took their money. I have lived off my inheritance for all of my life. That’s why I never keep any of the money for myself.”

Her words were true, even if they weren’t the entire truth. She hoped that they would make Clint back off. Maybe even stop seeking her out every year. Her attachment to him was becoming dangerous. A clean break now would be better and she knew she couldn’t be the one to make it. Clint wouldn’t ever give up on her, even if she broke his heart. It was better this way she thought. But Clint saw right through her half-truth.

“They hurt you…” Clint concluded, never taking his eyes off her when she took a step back as if Clint’s words had slapped her across the face. He wanted to move towards her and pull her into his arms as her eyes began to water. He didn’t. He knew she wouldn’t let him. Not right now. She was opening up to him, just like he had wanted her to for years. Clint knew that one wrong step would make her shut down.

Aurora didn’t say anything. Instead, she spun around heading the bedroom. Clint closed her eyes, breathing in. He feared he had lost her, but before he could even begin to decide between leaving or staying she reappeared back in front of him. She dropped a folder in his lap, before turning around, starting to pace the floor.

Clint opened the folder to see a huge mansion in flames; presumably her childhood home. He frowned as he began flipping through the pages.

Billionaire couple dies in a house fire. Leaves behind 16-year-old daughter.

Uncle takes in Y/L/N heiress.

Y/L/N orphan put into foster care.

Y/N Y/L/N turns 18. What will she do with her inheritance?

21-year old Y/L/N heiress disappears after clearing out bank accounts.

“Y/N…” Clint looked up from the papers and Aurora froze. “That’s your name?”

“It was,” she answered without facing him. “A lifetime ago. Not anymore.”

Clint nodded, looking back down to the papers. Recognizing a pattern. Clint was a spy but he was also an heir himself as well as a survivor of abuse.

“The foster home saw you as a paycheck. Your uncle didn’t believe you when you told him what they did,” Clint concluded before looking up in her eyes. She looked so much like a hurt animal and Clint wasn’t sure if she was gonna lash out or run. Either way, he wasn’t letting her go. Not know. Not when she had come this far.

“And my parents what did they do to me?” she stared Clint down, almost challenging him to guess her suffering.

“They hurt you,” Clint answered simply.

“He told me he loved me,” Aurora’s voice broke and tears started to build in Clint’s eyes along with hers as he realized the nightmare she had lived. “It started when I was eight. She knew. I told her and she hit me. She hit me every day since. She blamed me. And he kept… She told me I stole her husband. I was their daughter and they…”

Aurora stopped her hysterical rant and she just stood there staring at Clint. All light had gone from her eyes as the night she had put an end to her nightmare no doubt flashed through her mind. “I blocked their bedroom door and I set fire to the house. I killed them.”

“You were a child and you saw no other way out. You’re not a murderer. You’re a survivor,” Clint stood up, taking a tentative step towards her and Aurora fell into his arms, sobbing as she let him hold her.

He held her for days. Listening as she opened up sharing her story. Listening to the men and women that hurt her after she received her inheritance. He told her about his past as they stayed hidden in the hotel room together for weeks. He told her about his dad and how he had lost most of his hearing. He told her how his brother had taken a different path in life from him, but that he still loved him despite all his flaws. Clint meant it when he said he didn’t judge people by their worst actions. He judged them by their heart and will to carry on.

Aurora told Clint how someone all her life had wanted something from her. Money, recognition, sex. Everyone she had let close to her had let her down in one way or another. So she disappeared. She became a vigilante in her own way. She stole from the type of people that had always hurt her and she gave to kids like the kid she had been once.

She hadn’t trusted anyone since she was 21, not until she had met Clint. She let all her walls down with him. She let him see her, all of her as she was. Wounds and all. She let him love her in spite of it. She shared her bed and let herself feel what life could be like. For a brief moment, she let him and herself believe he had convinced her to come back with him. She let herself hope that he was right when he told her his friends would help her. They wouldn’t judge her for her worst actions any more than he did. She let herself dream of a life where she could trust again.

She let herself feel his touch and his love, clinging to him as they moved together, holding back her tears when he whispered how much he loved her. She wanted to say the words back but she couldn’t. She knew that she would be gone before the night was through.

As the moon shun clearly through the windows, illumination Clint’s naked sleeping form Aurora pulled herself from the bed. She pressed a soft kiss to his cheek, softly whispering the words she couldn’t bring herself to say when he was awake.

“I love you.”

She pulled on her clothes and grabbed her bags, giving his naked form just barely covered by the sheets one last look, before placing a note next to his pillow on her empty side of the bed.

“I’m so sorry. I can’t be the person you want me to be. Thank you for everything

- Aurora”

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Clint Barton Tag Team

@feelmyroarrrr @scarlettsoldier @hellaqueerangelofthelord @danijimenezv @becs-bunker @smoothdogsgirl @avengerscompound @grace-for-sale @mizzezm @girl-next-door-writes @sorenmarie87 @docharleythegeekqueen @myfanficlibrarium @dottirose

Out of the Shadows

@dark-night-sky-99

#clint barton #clint barton x reader #hawkeye x reader #hawkeye fanfiction #clint barton fanfiction #mcu imagine #mcu fanfiction #oots

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tmae3114 · 7 years

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What’s this? A new fic from me for the first time in nine months? Yes it is! ...aaaand it’s not DF or MQ. Whoops.

There are DF & MQ fics in the works, I promise, but I’ve been putting off posting this since about late September (though it was originally written in early September) because I wanted to finish one of them before posting this and I... really don’t wanna put off posting this anymore.

So! Here’s my first fic for Dice Camera Action! First and definitely not going to be the last. Fic-inspiring fandoms are so rare for me and I’m so ecstatic to have found another one! :D

So, uh, enjoy! :D

Auld Lang Syne

AO3

"You just get this sudden flash of familiarity. The lines of the wagon, the colours of the wagon… this is all something from your childhood.” “She says that this wagon seems somewhat familiar to her as well, like she’s seen it before as a child,”

Or: Strix recognised that wagon too.

Paultin is sitting on the edge of the bench, practicing his letters, when his father enters the wagon. He’s cradling a small bundle tightly swaddled in cloth in his arms and it takes less than an instant for Paultin to decide that that is far more interesting that trying to remember which was ‘b’ goes and which way ‘d’ goes. He drops his pencil, which roles into the middle of his writing book, and points at the bundle.

“What’s that?” he asks.

“Something very special that we need to take somewhere else,” his father says, closing the door behind him by hooking a foot around the edge to pull it closed without moving his arms.

As he moves further in after doing so, the bundle moves, like something inside of it is wriggling.

“Why’s it moving?” Paultin asks, shoving his letters book off of his lap with little care as to how it lands and scrambling across the bench to where his father is now standing, eyes sparkling with curiosity. “Is it something alive?”

He leans up onto his tiptoes and grabs his father’s shoulder, trying to lean over and look at what the bundle is. His father laughs, well used to his clambering, and simply adjusts his stance and grip so that he won’t drop the bundle and Paultin won’t fall off. The child in question simply takes advantage of this newfound stability to stick an arm down to try and move some of the cloth. His reach isn’t quite long enough, though, so he just ends up with one arm dangling down towards it.

The bundle wriggles again and then, to Paultin’s immense surprise and delight and his father’s amusement, a small hand works its way out of the cloth and knocks a loosely draped one out of the way, revealing a face.

It’s a baby, Paultin realises, staring downwards, mouth dropping open a little bit. It’s a little bigger than most babies and might actually be almost a toddler maybe but his first thought was baby so he’s going to call it a baby.

The baby is staring right back at him, eyes wide and mouth open in a little ‘o’ shape. There’s a mop of messy black hair on its head, really thick and starting to fall down by pointy ears, with two little horns poking out of it, and its skin is very pale and looks almost greyish. The eyes meeting his own and almost exactly mirroring his expression are almost solidly milky white.

The baby’s little ‘o’ of a mouth then splits into a wide shape that he thinks is what a smile looks like on a baby, makes a weird babbling ‘hcha’ noise, and wriggles even more, the one free hand flailing a bit. He can’t quite stop himself from grinning back.

And then the free hand shoots upwards and grabs one of his dangling fingers.

“…oh,” says Paultin, blinking down at the baby, who is staring straight at him and tugging on his finger a little bit “…hello,”

The grip on his finger tightens a little, and then the baby lets go. Its face starts to screw up a little bit and Paultin feels his father tense a little. He’s just about to ask what’s happening – is something wrong? – when the baby inhales deeply and starts to wail.

“Why does she always cry so much?” Paultin asks his mother, three days later. The baby is fast asleep, curled up under the blankets she arrived swaddled in, quiet for what seems to him to be almost the first time she started wailing when she got here. He has to be careful with swinging his legs while he sits on the stool, because if he kicks anything it’ll make a bang and wake her.

“Because it’s the best way she has to tell anyone when she needs things,” his mother replies in a whisper, giving him a quick gesture to lower his own volume, then submerging the cloth in her hand into the bowl of water she just warmed.

“Why?” Paultin asks, his whisper a little louder than hers because he hasn’t entirely figured out whispering yet. He has to stop swinging his legs when she crouches down in front of him so that he won’t accidentally kick her.

“Because she doesn’t know how to really talk yet,” she says, gently tipped his chin up and starting to dab at his face with the cloth.

“But she can talk!” he protests, forgetting his volume for a moment, making them both freeze and throw a glance to the side. The baby is still asleep, blessedly.

“She can talk,” he continues, back to whispering, tilting his head as she directs “I’ve heard her and so’ve you!”

The baby has held up grabby hands and demanded “up, up, up!” far too many times for him to think that she doesn’t know what sounds mean.

“She only knows a few words so far, Paultin,” she says, wiping at a particularly stubborn bit of muck a little bit harder, which feels weird.

“…so she’ll stop crying if she learns more words?”

She laughs, quietly, and gently wipes the last of the blood away from under his nose.

“We can but hope, Paultin,” she says, ruffling his hair with her free hand, then standing to walk back over to the bowl and rinse the cloth off.

He kicks his legs again now that she’s not in front of him and looks longingly to the door, mind already moving off of the subject at the lure of the light outside and the sound of other children laughing. They’re in a new place now which means new things to explore and he wants to be back out there.

“Can I go out again?” he asks, already leaning towards the door as though to bolt, seemingly closing the subject of the baby and crying.

“As long as you’re careful not to get another bloody nose,” his mother says, smiling softly.

He chirps out a promise and hops down from the stool, eager to get back to running around and exploring and playing pretend.

That night, both his parents watch in amusement as he puts object after object in front of the now-awake baby, forcefully pointing to each and repeating their name, over and over and over.

The baby watches with rapt attention, one hand shoved in her mouth, head mimicking the movement of his arms, and occasionally mimicking sounds.

It doesn’t really work.

“Where’re we going this time?” Paultin asks, trying to squeeze up on the seat at the front of the wagon with his mother. She chuckles fondly at his repeated failures and picks him up, settling him in her lap.

“Wherever the road takes us,” she says, letting him squirm up between her arms to hold the part of the reins that falls between where she’s holding them.

He tilts his head up as far as he can to try and look at her face without moving the rest of his body and sticks his tongue out.

“You always say that,” he says.

“It’s always true,” she replies, leaning over so that he can actually see her face and sticking her tongue out right back at him. He can’t quite help giggling.

Then he rolls his head from side to side slight, the closest to shaking his head that he can manage with it tilted back like it is. His hair rubs against her clothes and starts to go flyaway with static.

“I meant about the baby,” he says, blinking upwards “Where’re we taking her?”

“The City of Doors, though not just yet,” his mother replies.

“When then?” he asks.

“When she’s old enough that she’ll have a chance,” she replies, releasing the reins in one hand to ruffle his hair and then gently taking the part of the reins that he’s holding from his grip. “Inside with you now, sweetheart. We’ve got to head off soon,”

Paultin pouts but does as he’s told, slipping off of her lap and clambering to the ground.

About a week later, while they’ve all stopped for the night, Paultin’s voice trails off towards the end of a song he’s singing with his mother as he glances at the baby bouncing on his father’s knee, his brow furrowed in a way that almost looks comical on as young a face as his.

When his mother finishes the song and there is some quiet, he speaks up.

“Does she have a name?” he asks, head tilting to the side as he watches. He kinda misses being small enough to be bounced like that. It was fun.

“Only her birth family knows it, if she does,” his mother says, sounding a little sad.

Paultin’s furrowed brows become a thoughtful frown.

“We should give her a name then,” he says “We can’t just keep calling her ‘the baby’. Everyone should have a name,”

His parents exchange a glance and several head tilts, his mother also tossing a few quick hand signs that his father can’t return because he’s balancing a baby on his leg; an unspoken conversation that almost completely passes him by – he caught a few of the hand signs, but mostly just ‘he’ which doesn’t help much – and then his mother smiles at him.

“Okay,” she says, ruffling his hair despite squawking protests “Any ideas?”

“…no,” he admits. And then, face steeling into determination “But I’ll think of some!”

The baby is crying again and food hasn’t done anything and she doesn’t need changed and she isn’t tired and doesn’t seem to want to be sung to and it’s really starting to annoy him. It’s really hard to think about anything when a baby is crying and also he really wants to sleep.

He goes over to where his father is rocking her in his arms, singing a soft tune to try and calm her, his mother rubbing a temple and seemingly having given up on singing herself.

He leans over, points at her face, and goes “Stop it,” in his best Stern Voice.

The baby’s cries abruptly cut off with a sound vaguely like a hiccup and she stares at the finger in front of her face with slightly cross-eyed wonder. Then she follows the finger up the arm it belongs to and looks at his face. And then she giggles.

“Well, would you look at that,” his father says, almost sounding relieved beyond words. His mother just lets out a massive sigh, which sounds actually relieved beyond words.

Paultin, for his part, just looks at the pacified baby, looks at his hand, and then goes “…huh,”

He tells of this accomplishment quite proudly to the other children the next day. They’d all noticed the waxing and waning bags under his eyes ages ago and he’d gladly whinged to them when explaining why he had them – “The baby just won’t. stop. crying,” – so he feels very cool when they all ‘oooh’ appropriately in response to his having managed to calm her down, the ones with younger siblings especially.

He just kinda hopes it wasn’t a one-off thing. It’d be lame to get to boast about it and then never be able to do it again.

Eventually, he thinks of a good name.

He tugs on his father’s arm, getting him to crouch down. Paultin puts his hands gently on the sides of the baby’s face, looking her dead in the eyes. She doesn’t seem to particularly sense the gravitas that he’s going for, given the fact that she shoves a hand in her mouth and starts sucking on it.

“Your name is Strix now,” Paultin informs her, voice grave.

The newly christened Strix just keeps sucking on her hand, staring at his face. Then she reaches out the other hand and puts it on one side of his face, mirroring what he’s doing.

Then she pulls his hair.

Paultin has a feeling that he can’t call Strix a baby anymore, even in his head, when he spots her trying to figure out walking, pulling herself along the bench with her tail flicking from side to side as though to help her keep her balance. He’s pretty sure that it’s too thin to actually help her with that but he’s also not the one with a tail, so he’s not sure if it’s doing anything for her or not.

She doesn’t manage to stay upright very long and starts crying – again – when she falls. He sighs and goes over to pat her on the shoulder and sing a song to make her stop.

Then he takes her hands and gets her back onto her feet.

“C’mon, you’ll figure it out,” he says “and I’ll be way better help than a bench,”

Once Strix figures out walking, she’s insatiably curious. Nothing is safe from her grabbing hands and newly discovered ability to open drawers. Most things she just assigns a name of her own to, rather than asking anyone what it’s called, which Paultin thinks is kind of adorable, though he won’t tell anyone that. A few times she almost falls, or does fall, into drawers trying to reach something at the very back that caught her attention, which Paultin thinks is hilarious, though he also won’t tell anyone that, because he’d probably get into trouble.

It becomes a lot less adorable and funny when she finds something that she really shouldn’t touch though.

“Don’t touch that!” he shrieks, swatting the puppet out of her grip and then pulling her all the way to the other side of the wagon, holding on tightly to stop her trying to go back over to it. Strix, as always, starts wailing.

The sounds draw his father inside in concern. He takes one look at the situation and seems to know exactly what happened. He picks up the effigy of Strahd and puts it away, this time in a drawer much higher up than Strix had managed to pull it out of that she definitely can’t reach, and sets about soothing the crying toddler and calming his panicking son.

“Strix, c’mon,” he wheedles “You’re gonna be fine,”

She looks doubtful and shakes her head, making a whining sound as she does so. Her legs swing over the side of the wagon, her fingers clutching the edge of the step by the door that she’s sitting on.

“But you wanted to come outside,” he says, holding his arms up a little higher to try and coax her down “and you’re too little to get down on your own,”

She shakes her head again, harder this time.

“No,” she says “No, no, no,”

He sighs and lowers his arms.

“Okay, back inside then,” he says, conceding defeat and gesturing for her to move so that he can come back inside himself.

“No!”

He sighs again, louder and more exasperatedly this time.

“Make up your miiiiind!” he whines, dropping his head forwards so that his forehead clonks against the side of the wagon, just next to the door that Strix is sitting in.

“Want out,” she insists, and then points at him “But no,”

“You’re not making any sense,” he continues whining, wishing he hadn’t been asked to watch her alone this afternoon. He can do it but she’s not making it easy.

Strix makes a noise that he’s pretty sure is her being exasperated at him not getting it, which is so not fair when she’s the one not making any sense.

Hands shove against his shoulder and he tilts his head to the side slightly, cracking open an eye to look at her.

“Move,” Strix demands, her expression something like a determined pout.

He sighs and takes a few steps back. She waves with both hands to indicate farther. He takes a few more. She nods sharply.

“Not too little,” she says, and then shoves herself off the side, landing in the mud on her hands and feet.

His first reaction is panic because if she got hurt on my watch I’m going to be in so much trouble! which only gets worse when Strix doesn’t immediately get up. The fact that she isn’t crying yet is maybe a good thing but now he’s scared that maybe she’s too hurt to cry-

Before he can do much more than get closer to check if she’s okay, though, she rockets up, her hands cradling a massive clump of mud, and declares “Bug!”

And then there’s a beetle at least the size of one of his eyeballs in his face.

“Cool,” he breathes, panic fading to a grin now that he knows she’s definitely okay “Are there more?”

“She’s a lot better at talking but she still cries a lot,” Paultin says to his mother that night, as a recently de-mudded Strix dozes off. He’s only recently clean himself and neither of them have any regrets about how muddy they got. They found a lot of cool bugs.

His mother laughs a little.

“Some people are just criers, I suppose,” she says in reply, ushering him towards his own bed. “She might grow out of it with more time,”

“She’s good at walking and running now too,” he says, fiddling with his covers.

“…yes, she is,” she says, starting to look a little worried, as though she can tell where this conversation is going.

He fiddles even more with his covers, bunching the blankets around his hands, and then, quietly but not whispering:

“We’re going to that City of Doors place soon, aren’t we?”

She sighs and then gently tugs the blankets out of his hands, rearranging them around him for sleep, and strokes the hair out of his face.

“Yes, we’ll be heading to Sigil soon,” she says.

Paultin nods, uncharacteristically sombre for his age. He’d expected the answer to be that.

“…I’m gonna miss her,” he confesses.

“I think we all will,” his mother replies, gently kissing his forehead. “But we’ve got time yet. And now is time for sleep,”

He wants to protest that he’s not tired yet, but his own massive yawn interrupts him.

The trip to Sigil seems to take both forever and no time at all. It’s like it drags on and on and on but is also over within a blink. It’s weird and he doesn’t like it.

But it isn’t until Strix is once again bundled up, almost like she was when his father first brought her back, though she’s bigger now and the way the fabric is wrapped is more like a weird poncho-cloak hybrid than swaddling, that it hits Paultin that this is really it. This is the end of her travelling with them. This is it over. They’ve brought her to where they needed to bring her and now she’ll be coming no further.

He’s not used to goodbyes being this permanent.

As his mother starts to leave the wagon, Strix in her arms, he realises that he’s forgotten something important.

“Wait!” he blurts, just as they step out the door.

He scrambles to a chest, digging through it until he comes back up with a quill and a bottle of ink. Then he dashes over to the door with them in hand and leans out. He pulls some of the cloth loose and lifts Strix’s arm up. The toddler just blinks at him curiously, while his mother smiles fondly when she realises what he’s doing.

Carefully, very, very carefully, far neater than he could’ve managed when his father first came home with a baby though still very scrawly, Paultin writes a series of letters on her arm.

S followed by T followed by R, oh-so-carefully the right way around, followed by I, somewhat messily dotted, followed by X.

“There,” Paultin says, satisfied with his work as he pulls back. “Now whoever she’s with after us will know what her name is,”

As they leave Sigil, the wagon feels a lot quieter and emptier.

“She’s gonna be okay, right?” Paultin asks, fiddling with the quill, running the soft parts of it over his fingers over and over. The question sounds incredibly loud, even though he’s only barely not whispering.

There’s a pause, a hesitation, and then an almost completely believable “Of course she is,”

He’s old enough to know that that might not be true but also young enough that he wants to believe everything he’s told, so he just nods and accepts it.

“D’you think we’ll ever see her again?” he asks.

“You never know,” is the reply that he gets, along with a ruffle of his hair “Maybe you will when you’re both older, if she decides to travel too, or if you come back to Sigil,”

He kicks his legs against the bench, looks thoughtful for a second, and then starts “If we do meet again when we’re older…”

He sucks a cheek between his teeth for a moment, as though deciding whether or not he should say what he’s about to say. Then he makes up his mind and grins as cheekily as he can.

“…I hope that she cries less by then,”

It almost feels weird to be posting fic again, tbh. I haven’t really been consistent with any since early 2016. I’ve honestly really missed it but I just haven’t had the motivation or inspiration for anything that I’d want to post - I’ve been writing though, don’t worry! I’ve made a whole lot of progress on my book. I’m very excited about that.

Brief notes on this fic:

it’s been revealed since I originally wrote this that the ‘Strix’ written on Strix’s arm when she was little was likely a misreading of ‘Skizzix’. But it was too integrated a thing in this so I didn’t bother changing it

I love forgotten childhood meetings. I love them so much. So of course I couldn’t ignore it when DCA gave me the perfect chance

I tried really hard to make Strix and Paultin both feel like themselves and be, well, children who have yet to go through severe trauma. I hope I managed and would really appreciate any feedback on characterisation

yes, this fic has nothing at all to do with New Year’s. yes, the title is still Auld Lang Syne. If I wanna give a fic a pretentious poetic title in Scots, then I will, regardless of whatever cultural connotations the phrase my have thanks to beauitful poetry set to music. And “days gone by” is a fitting title for this, you’ve gotta admit. (okay yes the literal translation is “Old Long Since” but Sometimes You’ve Gotta Be Idiomatic)

#Dice Camera Action #Paultin Seppa #Strix #DCA fanfic #...that's a tag now #I can't wait to watch that fill up #I HAVEN'T POSTED FIC TO A NEW FANDOM IN /FOUR YEARS/ I'M SO NERVOUS

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vmheadquarters · 7 years

Text

What Goes Around... (Part 26)

This is PART 26 of a story that is being told in segments by twenty-seven different authors, campfire-style. Each author will take over the story with no prior planning and then pass it on after putting their own spin on it! Expect the unexpected! :) You can check our vmhq campfire tale tag for all of the previous installments or read the story as it develops on AO3. — Part 26 is written by @ghostcat3000

[Part 25]

Neptune is not a large town. A person could drive around and hit all the important corners in a little over an hour. They wouldn’t even need to speed. On one side, the ocean and the bended pines, the glassy, silvery wide half moon of a cove, surfers bobbing out to greet the waves, ducking their heads under the spume-curl. The other side—dry canyon brush, curved roads and boxy one-level ranch houses, stuck in some 1980’s decor time warp. To the south, all the poors and college kids living together in what passes for the hood in Neptune; chock full o’ check cashing places and liquor stores, always on the brink of conversion to cold coffee cafes and farm-to-table restaurants. Northside: formerly trailer parks and large undeveloped plots, now home to several boutique farms and wineries.

Most of them are closed now, all those grapes drying on the vine. Only one still in operation; the Van Vliet Winery. Running, not on grapes and weddings, but promise. The promise of power, the chance to get finally end up on top and win. Miles from Neptune’s center but seemingly a world away—no lights, no reception, only darkness and an occasional ribbon of warm wind—the epicenter of the revolution.

“Yo, Rubster. You have a great ass but HOLY SHIT, do you talk a lot.”

Ruby sighs and spins around, her long arms hanging loose at her sides. “Point is, we are out in the middle of fucking nowheresville. Our phones don’t work. We’re completely cut off from civilization. The pink zombie apocalypse could be happening, like, right now, and there’d be no way for us to know.”

“In the vineyard, no one can hear you thcream,” Sean lisps, then coughs, spitting down into the dry dirt beneath them. Somewhere between here and the tunnels, he appears to have lost another tooth. He brings up his hands to his face and rubs his nose with his palms; a frantic up and down scratch.

Dick flicks the back of Sean’s head with his free, non-gun-carrying hand. “No one asked for your input, douchecanoe. We're the ones with the firepower. Your job is to lead us to the girl and hope you get a plea deal.”

“What are we going to do when we find Katie? We can’t call for help and who knows when Logan will be back.” Ruby spins and stops, holding her cell phone at different angles. “Seriously what is the deal with the reception?” She casts a withering glance at Sean. “You realize this means you can’t call anybody either? You are not good at being bad guys.”

Sean shrugs. “The thell phone tower died. About three monthth ago. The community took the Van Vliets to court. Apparently, it wath never thupposed to be there tho it never got reactivated or whatever. We uthe the landlineth.” He tightens his lips together and looks away.

“Cell phone tower?” Ruby frowns.

Sean jerks his head forward, sighing with something like relief. “We’re headed right for it.”

Dick peers into the darkness. “That’s a tree, dude.”

“No. It’th not. It’th a thell phone tower dethigned to look like part of the foliage. It died. We don’t know why.” He rubs his nose again.

Ruby takes out a pair of binoculars from her Veronica bag. She peers through them, the wrong way around. “Is Katie near the cell tower?”

Sean doesn’t answer, keeps trudging along, rubbing his nose. Dick shoves him.

“Hey, numbnuts. Talk.”

“Yeth.”

Ruby lurches alongside Sean. She’s taller than he is, so the effect is predatory but also comical. “You had her here the whole time? Why?”

“Yeah, dude. Why run the risk of having her be found by the people you’re hiding her from? Where's the foresight?” Ruby and Sean stop walking near-simultaneously, turning slowly towards Dick.

“Hey,” Ruby says, stretching the vowels like a rubber band, approaching Dick. “You feeling okay?”

“Totes McGoats. But seriously, so much of this whole super soldier plan doesn’t make sense. You’re a sleazoid drug dealer-” “Video director,” Sean hisses.

“Sleazoid drug dealin’ video director. Who is more likely to be snorting the merchandise than selling it amirite?” Dick sniffs for effect.

“He’s got a point.”

“I’ve been clean for two months.” Sean pauses. “Okay, one.” He resumes the violent nose scratching.

Dick puts the gun down at his feet, digs around his front jean pocket, pulls out his weed and papers, and quickly rolls up with an exacting efficiency. He lights the joint and takes a deep drag, pausing to look at his fingers, smell them and shrug. “None of this adds up. You’re a joke, bro. You know who else is a joke? Your pharmacist. Mad Scientist Barbie creating super soldiers by day and clubbing with the rest of the ‘09ers at night? Her brother? Pass. Liam Fitzpatrick? As a recruiter? According to Logan, that guy is a psychopath who can barely run a mob, much less a globetrotting merc-creation operation.” He pauses to laugh. “That rhymed. Boss.”

He licks his teeth and takes another hit, “The whole using the near-abandoned winery as a base of operations is solid. I’ll give you that. This place is isolated as fuck and if anyone stumbles over here by accident, they’d be easy to contain. Throw ‘em in the tunnels. Wait. Are there..whatchamacallit...floor plans for the tunnels? There's gotta be a bigger section we missed.”

“Floor planth?” Sean’s eyes trained on the gun at Dick’s feet.

“Yeah, like a room where, if this wasn't a weird ass Bond-meets-Living-Dead movie type of winery, but like a romantic comedy with Ryan Reynolds as me and I’m at a wedding and I found the perfect underground room full of wine barrels to bang the bridesmaid played by the hot Swedish chick in Mr. Robot.” Dick pauses to do some pelvic thrusts and mimed ass slaps. He stops and points at Sean. “Blueprints. That's the word. How much you wanna bet we find a whole room of pink goo coffins up in that bitch? Whaaaat.”

Ruby motions to the joint burning between Dick’s pinkish fingers, “Can I have some of that? Keep talking.”

He passes the joint to Ruby. She takes a hit and nods. He returns her nod with a slower nod.

“This operation is half genius and half muy ‘est-too-pih-toe’. The parts don't match. Taking a little girl as a hostage. That does sound like a mob thing. Intimidation and whatnot. Is it long-term though?” Dick squints and grimaces. “Not really. But keeping her here, keeping her close? Knowing exactly where to hold her so that she’s not easily found? By the people providing you with the goods? I don’t know, bro. That’s next level.”

“It wath my idea,” Sean says smugly.

“Sounds fake but okay. The Irish mobster? Chhhyeah, again I'm gonna say no to that too. I can see House of Pain getting into guns to go with his drugs but soldiers? It's too… ambitious.”

“This isn’t working on me like it is on you,” Ruby says, still nodding but returning the joint back to Dick, whose narrowed eyes are nearly shut from the exertion of his thoughts. “Why Nice Guys?”

“Why Nice Guys? Dude, that's one of the parts I don’t get. They won’t be loyal, like all good soldiers need to be, all they want is revenge. But what would Fitzpatrick know about that? I think what really happened is Toothless and his pals decided to…what do you call it when you try to make stuff cooler?”

He snaps his fingers and Ruby jumps up.

“Ooh. Innovate?”

“Yeah. That. Like I said, not smart. Know your workforce.”

Sean sighs. “I read Flowerth for Algernon. It doethnt end well.”

“Whatevs, nerd. There’s got to be better options. Like cops. Neptune’s got plenty. Or actual soldiers maybe. Like Logan. You just gotta get ‘em all here at once. Dump the goop on them and BOOM, army, yo.”

“Dick.” Ruby says, her eyes going wide.

“Whoa. This is some good shit, right. I feel like, smart.”

“Can I be high too?”

“Shut it, Sean. Unless you can explain everything this-” Ruby bats her eyes at Dick. “...wise man is saying, you’re not allowed to speak.”

She takes the joint back from his outstretched hand and blows the smoke back in his face. “And what about this terrorism stuff happening in San Diego? Are they stealing cops?”

“Maybe it’s the mercs.”

“Maybe. Oh shit. Delayed reaction.” Dick turns to Sean in a slow heel-swivel. “He said community. The community sued the Van Vliets. What community? There’s no community for miles.”

Sean has been shuffling away from them, backwards, in the direction of the dead cell phone tower.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Ruby barks.

“My new tooth thtub is quite sharp.” Sean holds his hands up, they are free of tape. “And you're not going to shoot that gun and draw unnecessary attention to yourself. See you later, moronth.”

He runs for less than a minute. No more, no less, twenty seconds of scurrying and poof. Like a climactic comic book panel, he drops out of sight. Dick doesn't even have enough time to pick up the gun.

“What the fuck.”

Sean’s scream is high, hysterical and also, muted, dampened. Ruby and Dick hesitantly approach the sound.

“The ground ate him.”

Dick gulps. “Are we in a horror movie now?” Absentmindedly, he pinches the ends of his joint, puts it in his front pocket, and picks up the gun.

The closer they get to Sean’s screams the more they see that the part of the road they thought was road was not. It’s a hole, leaves surrounding the edge of the drop. At the bottom, sits Sean, his leg twisted underneath him in a backwards L-shape. His screams are thinning out, turning to whimpers. Next to him is a man, eyes wide and surprised, a sharpened pole going through his neck like a kebab.

“That sucks,” Dick intones.

“Yeah,” Ruby breathes out, a hand at her throat.

“Get me the fuck out of heeeeere!”

Dick leans down to look into the pit. It’s not as deep as he’d previously thought, maybe ten feet. There are roots sticking out of the edges, like little grasping fingers, useless to someone falling in; nothing to stop the descent or hold on to. At the bottom of the pit there is a single line of stakes. Sean managed to miss it when he landed. The other man, not as lucky.

“It’s like those things that cops lay out in the road to blow out tires.” Ruby kneels down alongside him.

“Oh yeah, but like huge.”

“It's kind of cool.”

“What the fuck! There’s a dead body in here. I know this guy. GET ME OUT.”

Ruby takes out a pair of eyeglasses from her bag and puts them on. She peers down into the pit. “I don’t see a ladder. Do you, Dick?”

“Nope.”

“COME ON.”

“Sorry, Stubby. We can’t get down there.”

Sean’s whimpers become sobs. Ruby digs into her bag and pulls out a small pack of kleenex, she throws it in. “I guess since you didn’t know about the Death Pit, you’re less in the know than you thought.”

“What she said.”

Ruby shoots Dick a baleful look. “Sean. We can’t get you out right now. But you need to keep your part of the bargain. Tell us where Katie is so we can go get her. Once we do that, we’ll come back with help. Okay?”

A small, broken little yes rises up. Ruby straightens up and dusts her hands. “Where are we going?”

“Thraight ahead. To the thell phone tower. Thereth a thmall cabin behind it, hidden in the pineth.”

“Thank you, Sean. I promise, we will come back.”

Ruby takes Dick’s arm and they walk around the pit. Dick leans in and whispers in her ear. “We’re not though, right?”

“Ugh, you smell like pee.”

Dick does his best Blue Steel. “Are you negging me right now? ‘Cause it’s working, babe.”

Without discussing it, they start walking by the side of the road. Shoulder to shoulder, tight and quiet. Before long, Sean’s whimpers can barely be heard; ahead of them, where the taller trees give way to a small clearing, there’s the faint sound of music. Dick points the gun in front of them, completely focused.

“I wish I had a gun too,” Ruby murmurs.

“I wish I had a crossbow. And a red turtle shell.”

Ruby shushes him, but holds his free hand tight enough to hurt. They arrive.

Up close, the disguised cell phone tower looks less like a pine tree and more like an enormous mascara brush. At the top of the tower, jutting out from the fake greenery are the metal arms, useless and rusted. A tiny white cement house sits at the base of the cell tower, a squat square behind a locked fence.

Dick tests the strength of the fence. “Should we bust in?”

“No, we need to find the house where they’re keeping Katie.”

The music they’d heard from the path comes from behind the trees. As they get closer, the melody becomes recognizable.Tell it to my heart, tell me I’m the only one, is it really love or just a game? a woman moans, with the urgency of a UTI at Sunday brunch.

“That is not cool.” Ruby whispers and straightens the set of her shoulders, as if preparing to charge, walking towards the trees and the darker darkness beyond them.

The cabin is painted in shades of muted browns and grays, and seeing it, head on, it looks tiny. It isn’t until they’re right up to it, that they realize that as narrow as it is in the front, it goes deep. It’s mostly dark, except for the windows which glow dimly behind red curtains. There's a pick-up truck parked there, the tire tracks in the mud behind it showing a large curving last minute turn.

The song ends. A few moments later, it starts again. Dick and Ruby nod at each other and approach the front, silent and fast. Dick gets there first and when he puts his hand on the handle of the screen door, he turns to Ruby and holds up his hand. Stop. She doesn’t. When he steps inside, she goes right after.

The walls are wood paneled and the floors are hardwood as well. Bob Ross-style paintings hang on the wall and an incongruously cheery beige-and-brown plaid couch facing the door, a red velvet pillow stitched with the words Shattered Dreams. Across from the couch, a TV set to a Spotify playlist with only one song, Tell It To My Heart blares. Free from the outside vista, the volume is even more unnerving.

Dick goes over to the television and picks up a remote, looks at the buttons, then points it at the screen. Ruby rushes over, “Don’t-”

He clicks it off. “What?”

A telephone rings out shrilly. Dick shoots into the floor and both of them jerk into high-pitched screams, the sound dying in their throats at the next ring. And the one after that.

“Should we answer it?” Ruby asks, throat dry.

“Fuck no.”

A fourth ring.

“Or maybe yes. Man. I’m too high for this shit.”

“Me too. Give me the gun.”

He hands it to her. Five rings, six, seven. They follow the sound of ringing to a console table in the hallway. It’s got a lime green rotary phone on it; cheerful and strange and utterly terrifying. The ringing stops. Dick picks it up anyway. Even a few steps away, Ruby hears the dial tone. And three soft knocks.

“Whoa, did you hear that?” Dick knocks three times on the receiver. “Hello?”

“No, Dick. It’s coming from down there.” Ruby rushes down the hallway and Dick follows behind. There’s three little knocks again, coming from the last door on the left.

“Whoever you are,” Ruby’s voice pitches a little higher. “Name yourself. We're armed. And dangerous!”

“Yeah, we know kung fu, sucker!” Dick chops at the air with his hands and kicks out.

“Stop it, you buffoon.”

A soft voice, as soft of those knocks says, “Ruby?”

“Katie?! Sweetie? Are you okay?”

“The door is locked. I can’t get out.”

Ruby bends her head and peers at the padlock.

“Hold on, honey. Auntie Ruby will be right back.” She turns to Dick, hands him the gun, saying “Stay here. Put the thing on that keeps it from shooting. Keep her calm,” before rushing down the hall, bag jingling.

Dick slips the gun in his waistband and leans in to speak through the door. “Hey there. What’s up?”

“Hi. Who are you?”

“I’m Dick. Uh, Ruby’s friend.”

“I’m Katie.”

“You okay in there?”

“I’m a little hungry.”

“Bummer.”

“Yeah.”

“Maybe we can get a burger or something after this?”

“Okay.”

Ruby returns with a little straw and a hammer. She hands Dick the hammer.

“Step aside.”

She removes a can of air from her purse, shakes it furiously and sticks the straw in. Angling the straw into the lock, she sprays until she drops the can. Using the hem of her t-shirt, she picks it up and sprays some more until the lock goes from silvery to white. Ruby grabs the hammer from Dick and brings it up high and down hard, just once, on the frozen lock, which splits in two pieces and onto the floor.

“Look at you, Rubster McGruber!”

They high five.

“Veronica Mars isn’t the only one with skills,” she drawls, flipping her hair.

With a flourish, fingers spread like a spider, Ruby pushes the door open. Inside, in an old fashioned wheelchair that leans slightly to one side, sits a young girl with long, wavy blonde hair, big brown eyes and a tiny, pointed chin. Ruby bends down and hugs her fiercely.

“How long have you been in here?”

“I don't know. Usually they let me move around the house. But this morning, Andy wheeled me in and said I had to stay here all day. Then that song kept playing and it was horrible.”

“I know, that song gives me nightmares. There's always someone murdering it at Karaoke and not in a good way. Who’s Andy?”

“The man that brings me my food. There's a lady too, Julie. She helped me with bathroom stuff.”

“Gross.”

Ruby kicks Dick in the shin.

Down the hall the phone rings again. They stop and listen, barely breathing. It rings six times, and stops. Dick puckers his lips into a silent, extended no which transforms into a wide grin.

“Hey, I’m remembering that this place sucks and we need to get out of here, pronto.”

“Yeah, let’s. We should use that nightmare phone to call the cops.”

“You can't,” Katie says. “You need a code to dial out.”

“Of course there is. Honey, can this wheelchair get you to the front door?”

“No. They took away my real chair.”

“I see. I’m going to carry you out then. Dick, hold my purse. We’re gonna hotwire that car outside and save this little girl.”

“You got it, hot stuff. You sure you can handle it?”

“I'm stronger than I look. Let's go.”

They speed through the house, Dick leading the way, Ruby close behind with Katie in her arms, and go out the back, through a small kitchen that smells strongly of paint.

It’s cooler outside and when Dick opens the driver’s side door, a very pink Liam Fitzpatrick tumbles out right out onto the ground, eyes open and dried froth around his mouth, dead-as-a-doornail dead.

“Holy shit!”

“Holy shit!” Ruby repeats after Dick, then looks at Katie. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay, dad says that all the time.”

“Cool. Cool. Dick, open the passenger side door. Quickly. Katie, sweetie, don’t look at the corpse. At least I think it’s a corpse.”

“It is.” Dick kicks Liam’s body. “Ouch.”

Ruby places the girl into the car, Katie uses her arms to shift to middle of the front seat.

“Dick, check his pockets for car keys. And grab his wallet too. There might be something important in there. Clues and whatnot.”

“Do I have to?” He throws Ruby’s purse next to Katie.

“What?” Ruby says, clicking Katie’s seatbelt in place.

“I said, you have guns, lady. What do you do to stay in shape?”

“Boxing and modern dance.”

Liam Fitzpatrick looks different than his picture in the paper. His hair graying at the temple and while generally trim, the skin on his face sags at the jawline like a bulldog. A pink-hued bulldog, bloated and shockingly bright. One hand clutches the air, a claw, the other is pressed tight in a fist. Near the knuckle, there’s a tiny bit of metal. Dick swallows the nerves and unpeels Fitzpatrick’s swollen fingers back like a gross banana. In the center of his palm are the car keys.

Inside the house, the phone starts ringing again. Staring at Fitzpatrick’s lifeless eyes, Dick sees his own reflection and with every ring, feels less and less like himself. Like he’s disappearing into the sound of the ringtone.

“Did you find them?” Ruby stands next to him, hands at her waist. She blows her hair out of her face and widen her eyes meaningfully.

Dick dangles the keys up to the light.

Inside the house, the phone stops ringing, after five rings this time.

“Is this a countdown?” Ruby swallows. “Don't forget his wallet.”

A phone chimes, closer at hand. A cell phone.

“Dick. Your phone is ringing. Answer your phone. Dick?!”

“What?”

He throws Liam’s wallet at her.

“Your phone!”

He pats his pockets and pulls out his iPhone. The screen reads Unknown Number. Dick hits answer call and locks eyes with Ruby who holds her clasped hands to her mouth.

“Hello?”

“Hi. Uh, is this Dick?”

“Uhyeeees.” Dick nods at Ruby, who nods back, and pulls her phone out of her back pocket.

“Hi, um, I’m Detective Leo D’Amato. We haven’t met.”

“I know you. You’re the dude Veronica was working for. You can’t intimidate me, dude. I know my rights and also that you’re EVIL.”

“What? No. Listen, I’m in the hospital. My partner, Wei Breitski, shot me and left me for dead. I have reason to believe that he’s either running or helping to run some kind of drug operation out of Neptune. Is Veronica okay? Do you know where she is?”

“Yeah, she left with your dirty partner to go find the antidote for the pink goo for Wallace?”

“What? I’ve been trying to call her. I need to speak to her. This is very important. She has to-”

“Wait. How do I know you’re not playing us?”

“Yeah!” Ruby yells.

“Who’s that?”

“Ruby.”

The phone cuts off abruptly. A moment later it rings again. A facetime call.

Dick accepts and Det. D’Amato’s face fills the screen. Half of his face is swollen and he’s got bruises around his eyes, like a panda mask. He’s wearing a hospital gown and is lit in the sad, sallowing way of hospitals.

“You look like shit, bro.”

“Thanks, Dick.”

“How did you have my number?”

“Veronica gave me a list of contact numbers, you were on it.”

“Aaaaw, Ron Ron.”

“Barf.”

“What did you say?”

“Barf. Veronica told me to say that in case you called her Ronnie, Ron Rons or Ronniekin.”

“Bitch knows me. What can I say?”

“Charming.”

“Was that Ron’s too?”

“No, that was me. Look, you don’t have much time. The so-called street uprisings I was told to investigate turned out to be bogus. Falsely reported incidents meant to distract us from the real problem. The-”

Leo’s face freezes.

“Dude, I can’t hear you? See you?”

“-You have to tell Veronica-” Leo cuts out and back in again. “The soldiers will get a modified formula, a refinement to make them dumber, more compliant, less likely to question things.”

“WHOA, I have a solid plan for that. I got this super weed and I’m going to smoke them all up and make them smart again.” The screen freezes on Detective D’Amato’s look of open-mouthed confusion. It unfreezes. “Okay, you do that. I’m going to call in my boys in San Diego and also the couple of guys at the Neptune PD who aren’t-” D’Amato freezes again. “Get as far from that winery as possible. Don’t let-” Freeze. “Pink.” Freeze. “Touch-” Freeze. “Got that?”

“Like almost none of it, dude.”

“Great.”

Ruby snatches the phone from Dick. “Hey, you. I’m Ruby. Give me proof that you’re one of the good guys. How do we know you’re in a real hospital, even? You could be lying.”

D’Amato does a reverse shot and gives them a shot of his hospital room.

“Not good enough. Show me your ass.” “Excuse me?” The phone returns back to his face in time to catch a raised eyebrow.

“Your ass. Show it. If you’re really in a hospital, you’ll be commando under there.”

“Like me!” Dick offers.

“Fine.”

Leo jostles out of frame and there, frozen on the screen, a pale ass cheek.

The Face Time call drops.

“Fuuuuc-I mean-udge,” Ruby looks over her shoulder at Katie. “The battery on my phone crapped out. Can you call anybody?”

Dick goes through his phone list. Logan, Veronica, everybody—nobody picks up.

“Okay. Veronica’s cop friend’s partner is evil. We knew that. She might be dead. I have to save the world.”

“No. Logan is with Veronica. He’ll protect her with his life. Oh no.”

“Oh no.”

“He’ll protect her with his life!” They shout simultaneously and run to the pick-up truck.

They drive back towards the barn by following the tire tracks out to the main road in silence. When the main buildings of the winery become visible, they kill the lights and go off road, wobbling slowly in the dark towards the barn.

“What are we going to do?” Katie asks.

“I don’t know, sweetheart. But Dick might drive you into town. I have to stay.”

“Fuck that! You need to go. I’ll stay.”

“Dick! Language.”

The door to the pick-up truck opens suddenly. Before any of them can scream, the wide-eyed blonde puts a fingers to their lips.

“Shhhh. I think I lost him but he’s insanely fast.”

“Daddy?”

Rooks takes off the wig and leans over Ruby to hug Katie tight. “Are you okay? Did they hurt you? Where were you? I was so worried.”

“I’m okay, Daddy. There’s bad stuff happening.”

Dick glances at Ruby over their heads. She rolls her eyes and shrugs, in a what-can-you-do? sort of way, then grabs the fabric of Rook’s shirt and shakes him to attention.

“Rooks.” Ruby whispers. “We’re going to give you the car keys. You have to get Katie out of here. Dick and I need to stay and kick ass. You got it? You and I will never be okay, you know why, but go, take care of your daughter. Don’t fuck this up. Also, you owe me a leather jacket.”

“Oh man, you don’t want it. That monster... grabbed it and uh, got intimate. I left him with it, used the moment to get away.” Rooks dries his eyes. “Wait. What? What’s going on?”

“You have to go, guy. NOW. And, uh, gimme that.” Dick grabs the wig from Rooks. “I might need it.”

“Katie, sweetie, you think you can tell your dad how to get back the way we came?”

“Yes.”

Ruby hugs her and Katie, softly says, “Thank you.”

“You got it, kid.”

They watch them drive off in the dark.

“You know what’s weird.” Dick says, stroking the blonde wig in his arms as if it was a Persian cat.

“What?”

“All these people, all these freaks, you, Logan, Rooks, Sean… They’re are all connected to Carrie in some way.”

“You think I’m a freak?” Ruby’s big eyes catch all the moonlight.

“Oh, I know you’re a freak.” Dick shimmies around her, grinding and whisper-singing UNTZ UNTZ UNTZ.

She doesn’t move at all, her arms folded tight across her chest.

“In high school, you used to say I smelled like wet bathing suit.”

Dick laughs. Ruby doesn’t. He stops.

“You said I would die alone in a dress made of banana peels.”

“What? Dude.”

Dick kicks at a patch on the ground.

“I was an asshole and didn’t know shit. Okay? I paid for it. Believe me. I’m sorry.”

They walk towards the barn. In the distance, there’s a howl. The Pizmonster can’t be too far behind.

“Okay. We have a gun and a hammer and we are super fucking smart.”

“Fuck yeah. So what do we do?”

Ruby swats at a buzzing insect near her ear. “We look for those landlines, plural, that Sean mentioned. I know they said that all the wires were cut but they're all, like total liars, so there has to be another one like back at the cabin. Maybe in another one of the buildings?”

“Right.” “And we keep an eye out for Logan. Protect him.”

Dick nods. “You’re a cool chick, Rubster. But I got to tell you, Logan will never quit V-Mars. She’s his… heart.”

Ruby breathes in. “I know. But I have my part to play. ‘It is a far, far better thing that I do’ and all that jaaaaaazz.”

“Yeah. Man, I’m hot. Are you hot?”

“No.”

Dick holds his hand up, the nerve endings on his fingertips are dancing with electricity.

“Hey, Dick. Look, isn’t that Veronica’s dad’s car?” They move towards the car in a low-to-the-ground undercover crouch and peer in the window—there’s nobody inside. There is no sign of anyone around, no footsteps or voices. Only wind.

“There’s a note.”

On the dashboard, in left-slanted all-caps letters—I HAVE YOUR FATHER, MS. MARS. DON’T DO ANYTHING STUPID.

Want to find out what happens next? Check back next Saturday for the next installment written by… @cheshirecatstrut Tag, you’re it! Make sure to submit your segment to [email protected] by Wednesday, November 1st.

#veronica mars #vm fanfic #vmhq round robin #vmhq campfire tale

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acprincesscat · 7 years

Text

How to Plan a Town

So, I made a post forever ago called “My Guide to a Beautiful Town” and in it, I mentioned that I would one day make another version walking through how to build a town from the ground up, but I’ve never gotten around to doing it. I ideally wanted to make a town from the ground up, and show my process, but I keep getting busy with life and then I forget to play for months and whatnot. So, since I am going to be doing the one year challenge, I have been sitting the past few days to plan out what I’m gonna do for my town, and I’ve realized that I have a system that I use each time I plan a new town (and I have 6 towns already). Because most of what I do now with ACNL is I get an idea, and with the help of hacks, I can just decorate my town how I want because that’s all I really wanna do with ACNL now is just decorate it which is why the challenge will be fun and a step back from how I’ve been playing. So, for those who have trouble planning a town, this is how I usually do it:

So, I like to write things down in a notebook cause I’m old fashioned, but you can use a google doc or word or just your brain. I find that paper and pen helps my thoughts flow a little better. But you do you.

Step 1: Come up with a theme

This is something I am typically very good at. I have several towns written down, that I may or may not ever make, but I have the idea for them. If you aren’t as good at coming up with ideas, however, a good idea is to browse the internet. Tumblr has a huge ACNL community, and there are all kinds of blogs out there that can give you inspiration. Just searching ‘acnl’ or ‘animal crossing’ in the tumblr search bar can pull up all kinds of pictures of towns that people have shared. You can also use google or pinterest if you like. I have several QR blogs that I saved that I like to browse as well, sometimes finding a path or an outfit might inspire me. You can also tap into your other interests. TV shows, comics, books, movies, other video games, anything that inspires you, and you feel like you can create it in ACNL, go for it.

I’m not going to number the rest of these steps because really they can be done in any order:

Next in my handy dandy notebook, I usually make a page that looks something like this:

Town Name: *the name of the town/ideas for names

Mayor: *includes name, face guide, hair, eye color, any general notes about them, skin tone, etc

Alt 1:

Alt 2:

Alt 3:

Villagers: *10 “dream” villagers

PWPs: *a list of pwps that I think will fit the theme

And then I start filling in the blanks. So for example, if we took my town Camellia that I just finished, it would look something like this:

Town Name: Camellia

Mayor: Caterina (AAB, super short dark brown pixie, blue eyes, dark skin, a cute little witch)

Alt 1: Rose (BBB, mid-length pink, blue eyes, pale skin, forest fairy)

Alt 2: Sophie (BBA, wavy gray, grey eyes, pale skin, ghost)

Villagers: Molly, Fauna, Deirdre, Beau, Shari, Teddy, Scoot, Shep, Lucy, Purrl

PWPs: metal bench, streetlight, stonehenge, statue fountain, camping cot, fire pit, zen streetlight (x2), zen bell, log bench, hammock (x2), windmill, stone tablet, totem pole, outdoor chair, water well, light house, water pump, wisteria trellis, wooden bridges, classic police station

I use a variety of sources to help me gather all that information:

JVGS Face Guide

JVGS Hair Guide

PWPs

Villagers

RV Villagers

And this is just the preliminary planning, obviously a lot of this can change as you work with the town and see what else you want to do.

For those that are confused by my AAB, BBB, BBA lingo, that’s just how I coded the face guide. So, what face you get is dependent on your conversation with Rover, so when you get past your name and gender and get the window that has three options: “Never been there” “I don’t remember” or “It’s a secret” I code all of those as A, B, and C respectively then each additional dialogue is either A or B (A on top, B on bottom).

Once I have all that information, I start considering what I want to do with character houses. This can be tricky, and this is probably the thing that I change the most once I get started in the actual town, but if the character has a theme, like Cat is a witch, I see if I can work off that theme with some of the rooms in her house. So on the next page of my handy-dandy notebook, I make something that looks like this:

Houses:

Caterina:

Main: Living room (cute, cozy, bright)

Upstairs: Observatory (stars, bright colors, strange knickknacks)

Left: Kitchen (witchy, foresty)

Right: Library (old, dark, witchy)

Back: N/A

Basement: Bedroom (bright, colorful, cute)

Once I have a general idea of the theme, or if I’m stumped on what I want to do with a room, I go to MoriDB and browse their furniture catalog. I usually have a wishlist for the whole town at the start then I break that into specific character wishlists as things progress. But I’ll browse through furniture and add things that I would like to try and incorporate into any of those rooms, or I look at what’s available and consider what I can make with it if I don’t know what I wanna do. I also go back to tumblr, pinterest, google, etc to look at other people’s towns, I visit dream towns to get ideas, pretty much anywhere that posts acnl, I’m there. Once I compile a hefty list of things to include in houses, I move onto the next step, and I do repeat this step often because sometimes I get all the stuff I picked initially, and still feel like my rooms need a little something extra, or I get a new idea for a room.

Next, I start browsing paths I want to use. There are a ton of blogs out there for paths, pinterest has a ton, you can google and find people’s personal blogs with qrs, wherever you like to go to look for qrs. I’m not even going to list all of the places I look here, maybe if someone asks I’ll make another post of just QR blog reccs, but I typically search until I find something I think fits the theme I’m going for and then I either bookmark it or save it to my computer to find later.

Once I have all this information planned out, I typically will start my game. The houses can often wait, and if you don’t have everything exactly you can gather that as you go along. Mostly all you need is the town name, your mayor’s name, and what face you want them to have. Everything else has no time table, I just usually plan it all beforehand, because like I said, all I ever do nowadays is decorate. After I have everything planned, it’s just a matter of executing it.

I hope this helps a little if you don’t know where to begin planning your town. If you break it down into little sections, it’s not so bad, and a lot of those resources I linked are super helpful. As always, message me any questions you may have, and I will do my best to help out! Happy planning~

#acnl #acnlwa #acnl guide #animal crossing new leaf

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