#as someone who says shit like “may i share an uncharitable thought”

[dyannawynnedayne]

Finally started playing pentiment. Love it but with my mix of often overly formal speech, picking up others speech patterns, and previous experience growing up hyper christian it is so over for my ability to talk like a human

[diddlesanddoodles]

DUMPLING ch 59

“I swear to the Gods, Andy. If you don’t stop with that, I’m gonna kick you so hard in your damn stones, you’ll wake up at Virase’s door,” Thrist growled, waving away the offending odor with one hand while waving the other threateningly at his partner.

“Can’t help it,” replied Andy, not doing much to conceal his immature amusement. “It just happens.”

“This is going to be a very long trip,” Jae muttered under his breath as he wiped a hand down his face. He sighed deeply and rested his head back.

“We can’t expect all rangers to be like Keral,” Nenani replied, mimicking Jae and leaning back against the side of the pack. Fatigue was building more in her shoulders and legs, and her mind felt foggy and slow. The thought of sleep was increasingly welcoming.

Unlike Farris or Keral’s packs, Thrist’s smelt heavily of old sweat and mildew. While it was roomy enough for her and Jae to feel almost comfortable, Thrist had sealed them in so that they had only the smallest point of light above them to see. And it grew dimmer by the minute as night began to fall. And if the giants’ topic of conversation was any indication, perhaps that was an accidental blessing in disguise.

“If I have to shove a wad of cotton up your arse, I fuckin’ will!”

“You know a lot about shoving cotton up arses do you, Thrist?”

Their world tilted alarmingly to one side as Thrist lunged at Andy with an incoherent snarl of rage. Nenani braced herself as best she could as Jae began to holler his displeasure.

“Would you both stop?!” he demanded, slamming a frustrated fist against the side of the pack that lay across Thrist’s back. The sickening sway of the pack stopped and it straightened up. Both Thrist and Andy could be heard muttering uncharitably between themselves, but everything righted itself, and they returned to the uneven sway of the giant’s normal gait.

Jae huffed and took a moment to reestablish his seat before replying in a snarky tone, “Thank you.”

“Should’ve taken the Timberbrook assignment,” Thrist grumbled. “Could be spending my nights in an inn with the barmaid. But no. I’m on another one of the captain’s hell treks, and what’s more? Gotta keep a couple of royal whelps alive. Can’t even be proper sized ones.”

In any other circumstance, Nenani would have risen to meet the taunt, but she was feeling her previous exertions much more and she felt content to lay against the pack’s wall and try not to think about anything. Though, she found that task rather difficult. Her mind would not stray from Farris and what he was doing at that moment. If he was safe. Were they back at the estate? Try as she might, her worst fears and imaginings played continuously.

What if he was captured by Brennan’s men? They would kill him. Or maybe not. They could keep him hostage. He would fight them of course. They would hurt him. He promised he would come home to her. She had to believe him.

Resting her forehead to her knees, she closed her eyes and tried to steady the frantic thrumming of her heart.

“Are you alright?” Jae asked, his voice a gentle murmur, but perfectly audible within their shared space. She did not know how to answer him. “Nenani?”

Without uncurling from her ball of misery, she said, “Not really. No.”

“When I was still a little kid,” Jae said, “and when I had just started to not hate Keral’s guts quite so much, he came back wounded after one of his patrols had gone south. Some guy didn’t like him snooping wherever it was he was snooping and tried to cut his legs out from under him. He failed, but he did give Keral a really nasty gash. Got infected and he was in bed with a fever for almost a week. Yaesha said they may have to cut his leg off to save his life and I remember feeling honestly terrified at the idea. Because I hadn’t even realized it until that moment how much he looked out for me. And Warren. He’d been there through it all. And the idea of him not being there...I wasn’t ready to face that kind of thing again. Warren’s my Dad, but Keral...” Jae paused. “He’s like some...smelly drunk fairy godmother.”

Jae laughed, and the imagery alone was enough for Nenani to crack a smile.

“This was before Sawyer came to live at the castle, so I volunteered to help Yaesha in whatever way I could. Mostly I just kept watch while he slept and told Yaesha when he was awake. He got better after another week or so, but he limped for nearly a year after.”

Nenani nodded silently, though the swirling thoughts and emotions did not abate.

“Farris is just like Keral. They’re both far too stubborn to die,” Jae said in a halfhearted attempt at levity. “And more than that, Keral would never let him. He’ll make it home. We’re all going to make it home. We just got to make sure we’re there too when they get back.”

“Yeah...”

Even in the dying light, Nenani could see him crack a smile, but it faltered. “And also...I wanted to talk about...Well, about what happened before,” Jae continued, the amusement having vanished from his voice. “With the guard. The one you...um. Are you…?”

She did not answer right away, and she wasn’t able to meet his eye, though she could feel them on her. At last she shrugged and admitted in a small and hoarse voice, “I don’t know...”

There was a telltale warble to her voice that she was a little ashamed of, and she hoped the dark interior hid her expression well enough. There was a long silence that was only broken by Thrist and Andy’s occasional snarkery.

“You can talk to me, Nenani,” Jae said gently, reaching out to put his hand on her shoulder.

“I know,” she replied, putting her hand atop his and holding it. A moment passed and Jae pulled his hand away, clearing his throat awkwardly.

“Nenani, I‘ve been meaning to talk to you about...this. For a while, actually. About...well. You know that...I mean...that is to say...” He paused and gave a frustrated sigh. “Look. I know that you have...feelings.”

Nenani’s chest tightened alarmingly and she felt her mouth go dry.

“For me,” Jae said, struggling with his words. “But I have to tell you. I can’t return them. And...I am just realizing how terrible a moment this is to be saying this, but I didn’t have any way to say anything before. And Rosanna has been so fucking smarmy about the whole damn thing and...I didn’t want to hurt your feelings and I didn’t want to give you the wrong impression, but I couldn’t just push you away and I just...”

Another frustrated sigh.

“I am your friend, Nenani. And I do love you. Just...not like that. And maybe I can’t be what or who you want me to be, but I will always be by your side. If you need to talk or a quiet place to be away from everything or to just go have some fun to pretend like the dark stuff isn’t still all messing up your insides...I’ll be there. I promise.”

It would be an utter lie to say that her first instinct was not to punch him in the face. Her chest ached and her eyes burned as his words sank in fully. Of course she knew, but it was a different matter to hear the words and have that smallest of pieces of hope dashed. Even when they were said with real affection and sincerity. Somehow that made it all the worse.

“You’re right,” she said and burst into tears. “That was terrible timing!”

“I know!” Jae was quick to agree. “You’re my friend, I mean it! I’m not saying this to be mean or cruel or to make you cry or feel bad. It’s just so that –”

Jae scrambled forward gracelessly and wrapped his arms around her, pressing her face into his shoulder and squeezing.

“...I just want you to understand me. I don’t want to hurt you. I hate seeing you scared and sad because I spent so much of my life feeling like that and I know that hurt. Maybe not all the rest of the stuff...but I need you to know that I am here for you.”

At last, the walls that had buffered and cushioned and disguised her innermost feelings and thoughts all gave way. Jae’s words were like a hammer to the fragile dam that held everything within, and Nenani gave a loud cry of frustration and fear and anger. She had the presence of mind to suppress her flames, but everything from her fingertips to her elbows glowed a brilliantly bright white. Everything then flowed from inside her and into her fire opal. As she poured more and more of her grief and fear into it, the stone began to glow and shine. It started small, like a faint flicker, and then began to thrum with more magic until it began to shine bright enough to light up the interior of the pack.

Jae kept his grip on her and let her cry.

“Hey! What the fuckin’ hell are you screamin’ for?!” Thrist demanded, much in the same tone as Jae had used on him earlier. The whole pack jerked about and threw both Nenani and Jae to the floor. “We’re supposed to be stealth-like, you know!”

“Oh shut it,” Jae shot back. “You and trumpet britches over there are the ones being loud.”

“Well now we’re being quiet!” Thrist replied in possible the loudest ‘whisper’ Nenani had ever heard.

“Fine!” Jae snapped.

“It would be just my fucking luck that someone hears you,” Thrist continued. “And then we have to run to save our fucking lives or some shit all because you –”

A sudden whooshing sound cut through Thrist’s words followed by an immediate shlerk and the sound of something large falling over. Thrist cursed and dropped to the ground, and the abrupt weightlessness sent Nenani and Jae falling over each other.

“Whoa-!”

“Andy!” Thrist called. The pack tilted and rolled. “Oh fuck. Fuck!”

It took them several tries to untangle themselves, but when Nenani and Jae finally crawled out from the overturned pack, the sight that greeted them chilled their blood.

Thrist was huddled against the base of a large tree cradling Andy’s head in his lap, pressing his hand to a profusely bleeding wound in the giant’s neck. Above them, a single wooden crossbow bolt was embedded into the tree, the end still dripping with Andy’s blood. The mortally wounded ranger’s eyes were wide as his bluish lips moved to form words, but they only garbled in his throat, spraying flecks of blood around his mouth.

Thrist’s anguished face rose to look at the two startled humans and he snarled. “Get over here you idiots!”

As though having heard the ranger, another bolt flew towards them, striking the ground a few feet in front of Jae. Both he and Nenani jumped in fright and scrambled towards the shelter of Thrist’s tree.

Nenani looked as they ran, trying to see who was firing upon them and only caught the barest glimpse of what she thought were giants. Several of them. All marching towards them.

“Dammit!” Thrist said, still trying futilely to stop the bleeding. Andy’s face was starkly pale and his lips no longer moved. A muffled wail was caught in Thrist’s throat and he pressed his head down to his friend’s. “No. No, no, no, no...”

“They’re coming,” Nenani said. “We need to move.”

Thrist raised his head, blinking away the tears gathering around his eyes and nodded. With reverent gentleness, he laid Andy’s head onto the forest floor.

“Alright,” he said, his voice tight with emotion. He reached towards to grab both humans, his hands still stained with his dead friend’s blood. He cradled them both close to his chest, taking a single look at his pack laying just past the protection of the tree. He seemed to think better of it and turned away. With a single quick look to see if his path was clear, Thrist made a mad dash between one tree to the next and just as he reached the next one, a crossbow bolt struck the tree behind him with mere feet to spare.

Pressed up against the tree, Thrist listened to the sound of the footsteps of their pursuers and then made a sudden move for the next spot. Nenani expected him to stop behind it, but instead he kept moving, and then he changed directions. After several more false starts and zigzagging, he paused behind a particularly large tree to catch his breath. He lowered his two human charges to the ground and then reached for the knife at his belt. He regarded it ruefully.

“This might not end well for us,” he said.

Nenani swallowed against the rising lump in her throat. Everything was wrong. This could not be happening. From their vantage point, she could see the group of giants coming their way. She could make out at least seven. One of them carried a large crossbow. He fired it, lodging the bolt into the back of the tree that they were all sheltering behind.

“This can’t be happening,” Jae said, unknowingly giving voice to Nenani’s own feelings. She looked at him and could see the utter terror in his face, and it broke her heart. She took in the sight of Thrist holding onto his only weapon, a knife, with his hands still colored by his dead friend’s blood.

The flames within her stirred.

“You have to get Jae out of here,” she said to the giant. His eyes had been unfocused, but now zeroed in on her small frame.

“What?” he asked.

“What?” Jae demanded.

Nenani did not back down. “That knife won’t do you any good. I can keep them occupied while you run. Get Jae out of here.”

Thrist regarded her with a sort of bewildered anger, but as he mulled over it, he seemed to find he agreed with this. He looked to Jae, but the young man was red faced and angry.

“I am not gonna let you fight those fuckers all by yourself!”

“I stand a better chance,” she told him, trying to keep her tone even despite the intensity of her emotions.

“Like hell I’m just gonna leave you here while I save my own damn skin!”

“You need to get him out of here!” she said to Thrist. “Vhasshal needs him.”

“What?” Jae asked, pushing his way into her field of vision, but Nenani kept her eyes affixed to Thrist and moved her head this way and that to avoid meeting Jae’s furious gaze. Grasping her by the shoulders, Jae forced her to look at him. “And you don’t think we need you? What am I suppose to tell Farris, huh?”

“He’ll understand,” she replied mechanically. The more he objected, the more resolute she became.

“What about your mother?”

In a small voice, she said “...Mama has Haiyer.”

“Don’t you fucking dare, Nenani,” Jae said, his voice breaking. “We aren’t going there...we’re both going home. I’m not leaving.”

Nenani flung his hands from her shoulders and pointed to Thrist.

“You need to get him out of here,” Nenani said. The ranger looked lost as his eyes glanced between her and Jae and back towards the direction they had come. Towards his dead companion. She could see in his eyes that he understood perfectly well she was right. “Jae is your prince. You have to protect him. It is your duty!”

“Don’t talk as if I’m not here!” Jae demanded just as another bolt flew over their heads, missing Thrist’s shoulder by mere inches. Jae’s face contorted painfully through the riling emotions within as he grasped futility for words. His eyes trailed from her, to Thrist, and then to the approaching giants, and then back to her. A lifetime of words were trapped behind his teeth, but he could not manage to pull any of them out.

She forced away the bubbles of guilt that surfaced as she met his eyes.

“Thrist!” Nenani yelled, drawing the giant’s gaze back to her. “Vhasshal needs King Warren and King Warren needs Jae. So go. Get him to safety.”

“Nenani, you can’t just–!” Jae began, but she did not look at him. She kept Thrist’s attention with an iron grip, jaw clenched tightly.

“You owe me this,” she said. The other giants were closing in, and Nenani’s eye caught the glimmer of metal as a dagger was drawn. Anger overrode everything else inside her head as she whirled around fully to face both Jae and Thrist, her arms and torso erupted into tall blue and white flames as she screamed at them, “I SAID GO!”

Thrist leaped back in abject fright, taking his eyes from her terrifying display before scrambling forward to scoop Jae into his hands as he frantically complied. Jae flailed and smacked the giant’s hands, yelling obscenities that Nenani did not quite hear as he was unceremoniously carried away. She watched breathless for a moment, allowing herself only a small moment of grief, before turning back to face their attackers.

They looked so ordinary, she thought. They could have been any number of the Vhasshalans she had seen traipsing about the castle. They were just people. But capable of doing so much harm and doing it so willingly. So much wanton destruction and death and pain. And for what?

Her flames made them cautious, but there was no terror in their eyes as there had been in the guards who attacked them before. There was intrigue in their depths, a hunger for pain and flesh. Insanity, she decided. That was the only way she could understand it. They were all mad with bloodlust. The same that took hold of their king and drove him to destroy Silvaara. The destruction that gave birth to Aidus, ripped apart her family, and set her life onto a path of ruin before it had even begun.

One giant licked his lips as his white knuckled hand clutched the hilt of a gleaming dagger. Nenani reached down to her belt and drew her own dagger. She kept their gazes affixed with her own. In her hands, the blade was heavy with both history and purpose.

“Pretty little lights you have, little girl,” said one giant.

“You think they’ll scare us off?” asked another. He held his crossbow at the ready, a bolt as long as she was tall set within and aimed at her. It would easily cut through her without a bit of hindrance. He grinned a long sickly grin to flash off his crooked teeth. “I’d skewer you long before you could muster more than a spark. You’re not the first fire mage I’ve come across.”

His words seemed to grant more confidence in the others and as one, they began to close in with their weapons at the ready. She ran a hand across her fire opal where she could feel the magic pulsing under her fingertips. She hoped it would be enough. Her thoughts went to the fire mage spirit who gave it to her and wondered if he could see her somewhere in the ether. She still remembered the first time she heard his words. And then...

Abruptly, a memory from many months back bubbled to the back of her mind. Keral’s words echoed in her head as he read aloud the Gold Prophecy from a book. Those same words that had inspired so much fear in her. A deep nagging feeling she could not ignore, like the ghostly tapping on a door. A quiet request to come inside.

The faint yellows and silvery whites of her fire opal shifted into reds and oranges and then to a deep crimson, flecks of brilliant gold swirling throughout. Memories that were not her own began to filter through her mind’s eyes, and Keral and the mage’s voices spoke together as one.

“The river runs uphill to the dying song of fools and Kings…”

She could see her mother and father, so very young and in love, trying to leave Silvaara. The crowned prince Thadeus lay dying on the ground as Aidus stood upon his chest, plunging the blade of his sword into his heart. She heard the horrible wails of King Nethrin’s overwhelming grief and then the chorus of Vhasshal joining him.

“...that tear flesh from bone and the crown from the mountain…”

...that same grief that petrified within his blood and drove him mad. Genocide. Silvaara falling. Her grandfather’s dying pleas for mercy...and the Blood King having none to grant.

“Water runs red with fire…”

The dragon attacking the castle. A bright burst of flames and heat beyond all imagining as she was falling. Down into the river she went as the burning flesh of the dragon followed after her. Her namesake river was burning.

“… and shall rise when the old blood runs new…”

The joy of being reunited with her mother after so long. Meeting her brother and discovering who she really was.

But all the warmth and comfort of those memories faded and grew cold. Grief and anger bubbled within and began to spill over like a boiling pot.

“The flesh taken will be paid in blood...”

The flames all along her arms turned white and blue and tendrils of thorny vines were cast from her fingertips. The forest debris at her feet hissed and began to smolder. 

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

BONUS ART

[eddardstark]

someone ( @redead-red ) tagged me and now i’m meant to post the last sentences/paragraphs i’ve written? and, like, i don’t know what to say, except i’m sorry for everyone who reads this unedited, un-beta’d nightmare—which, by the way, was supposed to be a 1,200 word drabble and is now a 4,500 word, incomplete shit show.

Annie makes a move to flee. Beckett grabs her and pulls her toward him, her back against his chest, the knife leveled at her throat. You can’t help the flash of resigned irritation that crosses your face, or the dull mask that settles in its place.

You listen to him tell his story, spinning himself into a victim and martyr both. And Annie does the same, adding her own commentary and screaming bruises into his delicate pride. The two of them, so small and petty and childish, deserve each other. They’re each poised to murder the other, and over what? Some gambling debts? A simple insult? It’s nothing you haven’t seen before a dozen times and more.

And it’s nothing you haven’t born witness to since before you can remember: a man, attacking, and a wife, cowering. Annie at least has some measure of backbone; she doesn’t fold immediately like a house of cards, leaving her children to fend for themselves. She disappeared herself to escape Beckett, and now she’s fighting to be free of him once more. It may be currish, but it’s more than your mother ever managed.

The back of your neck flushes red with shame at such uncharitable thoughts.

For days, cold anger has been settling in the pit of your stomach, boring holes into your guts. Or perhaps it’s the thing filling them. Perhaps it’s grief that has cut you apart—made tatters of your principals and a wasteland of your control—and whittled you down to nothing but open wounds, no balm to hand but thorns and bile and the old familial violence.

You stalk into the room, still listening to their insipid sniping.

Under your collar you’re burning. Seething. The cool rage ignited and simmering beneath your skin, pulling until it’s too tight, until anymore you don’t fit your body and your ribs are crushing the air from your lungs.

“Do something about this!” Annie spits. “You’re the one that led him straight to me. Do something!”

He won’t be leaving here, you say softly.

oh, yeah. that’s me, writing murdoch mysteries angst set three seasons ago. in the second person. with flashbacks in the third person. all of it from william’s perspective. all of it an unholy butchery of both the show and books.

i think i’m supposed to tag people now, but i don’t know who here is still active and writes, so, if you see this, and you have writing you’re down to share, consider yourself tagged. and please tag me if you post because i wanna see! ❤

[spyvstailor]

Need 70 More

Sorry to do this, guys, but even though I thought I placed a one time stop payment on a bill that was coming out, it came out anyways, so my bank account is now overdrawn. I need just 70 more to get to a comfortable spot in my friggin life. However! Good news is you all reached my original goal! So life is doing good things for me!

HUGE THANKS AND SHOUT OUT TO EVERYONE WHO DONATED AND REBLOGGED! SOME OF YOU GAVE LIKE WAY TOO GENEROUS FOR MY SHITTY WRITING AND IT DID NOT GO UNAPPRECIATED OR UNNOTICED! GOOD THINGS WILL COME TO YOU IN LIFE FOR YOUR GENEROSITY. I LOVE YOU GUYS!

Donate to my Paypal. Also I now have a Ko-Fi at the suggestion of someone dear to me, so here’s the link to that. It’s kind of barren right now, I’m working on it to offer people things they might like in order to earn my keep.

But as promised, here is my give so I may take. Chapter Two of Graveyard Dirt & Salt!

Chapter Two

The bell tower was covered in bird shit and looked like it was going to give him some kind of disease, but the view from it was worth the filth.

If he stood, with his back to the trees that grew in thick to the South of the convent, the back end as he'd come to call it, he could see straight down the cattle trail that lead from the convent gate, almost all the way down to the highway beyond the woods. To his right, to his left, to his hindquarters, was nothing but trees. Thick woods to give them cover.

They were both a blessing and a curse.

In his mind, if anyone took beef with them, the trees would be perfect cover for lurking invaders. But on the other hand, the trees kept their little convent a secret from the rest of the world.

Kicking some of the larger detritus out from his new nest, he unfurled his bedroll and began to make himself at home. If he stayed longer than a week, if he lasted longer than a week, he would give it a good, solid scrub down, but for now it was a place to sleep without worrying about having his ass snacked on.

Besides, he was pointedly warned against trying to settle into the cloister itself, the dorms where the nuns seemed to sleep. So he had to make his bed someplace other than the infirmary.

The clacking on the wooden ladder up to his perch alerted him to the fact someone was about to visit and he settled on his haunches, wanting to appear non-threatening to the woman who was about to appear.

A blonde head popped up into view, followed by a blue jumper dress.

The young nun carried with her a plate with bread smeared with what looked like honey and she smiled sweetly at him.

“Mother Mena wanted me to bring you some food, she said you'd be hungry.” The woman said.

“That's very sweet of you, thank you.”

Setting the plate in his lap, the woman turned to leave.

“So...tell me about you nuns here, what's your deal?” He called out to her, mostly desperate for some conversation after months of solitude.

The woman turned. “Oh...uh...well, what do you...um. I'm sorry, I'm Mary Elizabeth, I'm a novitiate, which means I haven't taken my vows yet. We're a Cisterian order, which means we value stability and simplicity.”

“And you don't ever...do anything beyond pray?”

“Well, we garden and take care of our chickens and hives, mostly we supply...well, we used to supply vegetables and peaches from our trees and eggs and honey and bees wax to the local farmer's market to support our convent. Most of our funds go to charity in the church, people starving in other countries, disaster relief. And we reflect, on God, on man, on everything in between.”

Splitting the bread slice in half, he handed her the larger piece and bit into his.

Mary Elizabeth took the offered piece with a shy grin and squatted down like a lady to join him, knees together, skirt covering anything inappropriate, one hand on her knees to ensure this.

“Is it really bad out there?” She asked as they chewed in silence. “Some of our order went to the market nearly half a year ago and never came back.”

He nodded. “I can't give you any hope, they're probably gone. Swept away with the dead.”

The woman's pretty little face puckered in dislike of that idea, but she soldiered on bravely.

“It's like Revelations. The dead rising. Scares the dickens out of me, if I'm honest.”

The woman was so sincere in her fear, as she rightly should be, but it troubled him to think of her now knowing the full extent of what was going on outside the convent walls. The Lieutenant had been forged by war overseas, by rigorous training and by all he had seen and done in his forty-three years and he couldn't imagine being in the dark while the whole world fell to pieces around you. Then again, he was always the one running into the danger, as others fled.

This slip of a girl, barely old enough to vote, it seemed, was scared of the rotting corpses that walked across the land and he understood how she could be. It was bigger than them, out of control, there was nothing left but the dead and the vultures who picked at the corpses of society. The wildfire had spread, the towns and holy places had fallen.

Downing the last morsel of his bread and honey, the Lieutenant stood up and pointed at her. “Well, either you're closing your eyes to a situation you do not wish to acknowledge or you are not aware of the calibre of disaster indicated by the presence of a pool table in your community.”

The woman clutched her hands together and beamed happily. “Oh! I love The Music Man!”

“Ya got trouble, my friend, right here, I say, trouble right here in River City,” he went on playfully.

Mary Elizabeth blushed shyly. “Mother Mena says you're the trouble around here.”

“She's getting a hunter and protector out of this deal. Missy should watch her tongue.” He returned, easing his ass against the railing and folding his arms.

“I'd better get going, I have to do the washing tonight and I wasn't really supposed to talk to you.”

“It was nice to talk with you regardless, Lizzie. But don't get yourself into trouble on my behalf.”

The woman giggled. “You too, Lieutenant. And I won't. I think it's uncharitable to pretend you don't exist. Seems a little cruel. Not that I judge Mother Mena! She's kind, she's just...scared, I think.”

“We're all scared. That's the human condition. Fear of being the prey to a greater predator and for the longest time man was at the top of the foodchain. Mind yourself going down now,” he cautioned, moving to offer her a hand down the ladder, before remembering that he wasn't to touch any of the nuns, so he drew his hand back quickly.

Mary Elizabeth beamed at him. “Thanks for the offer though. I like a gentleman.”

For days the Lieutenant hunted for the nuns, but he was like a ghost at the convent. The nuns saw him, the spoke of him in hushed whispers, but no one dared approach him.

He'd bring them an animal sacrifice and they'd send someone up to his tower with a plate for his share of the meal, but he was still awful lonely.

It had taken an entire week before another nun spoke to him.

“That is a household worth of baggage, Lieutenant.” She said.

He had just returned to the convent with a successful bounty, two ducks and a goose for dinner, when Sister Mary Agnes approached him. He had met her the other day when she was the one to bring him some food. He liked her matronly look.

“I got lucky,” he returned, preparing to clean the kills.

“I meant that pack on your back,” she said, kneeling beside him. “Doesn't it ever get awful heavy after all that walking?”

Glancing at his pack, the one he went everywhere with, he grinned. “It's my apartment. Everything I own is in that bag.”

“How on earth can a man travel with so much on his back? Don't you ever get tired?” She demanded.

“Mais, when you don't have a home, Sister, you make do. My apartment is on my back, ready at a moment's digging.”

The woman stopped them both, her dark eyes grave. “What's it like out there, Lieutenant? Really?”

“Hell on earth,” he admitted. “If it's not full of the dead, it's lonesome and abandoned. Torn apart like the aftermath of a child's temper tantrum. It's like walking through a bad dream.”

“Sounds like things are bad.”

“Worse. Whatever you're thinking, it's worse.”

Mary Agnes frowned. “I sometimes wonder why, when everything has turned to dust, we're left here holding the bag, as it were.”

“We're the survivors,” he explained. “It takes a lot of hard work to become the survivors. A lot of loss and a lot of pain, but we're here.”

“I suppose that makes sense. They always said the broken ones triumph.” She nudged him kindly. “So what broke you?”

For a second he was thrown, gunshots echoed in his memory. Shouting and verbal abuse, memories of his mother, of everything that had shaped him came flooding to the forefront of his mind, before he managed to recover himself.

“Why, sister,” he teased. “We are all broken children under God's eyes. Doesn't take much more than a dead dog or a bully in our childhoods.”

“I pried,” she returned simply. “I'm sorry. But humour will only deflect for so long, Lieutenant.”

“Mais,” he sighed. “It lasts long enough though.”

He was on the wall later that evening, watching an uggie as it shambled from out of the woods towards the wall he was on.

Poor little lady in her bathrobe, one slipper still on, the other long gone.

“Didn't expect to be caught in your jammies, huh?” He asked the thing.

It grunted and made a mad dive for the wall just under him, hands clawing at the stones.

“Never actually thought people even wore bathrobes,” he went on calmly. “Maybe I should start wearing one. Look like one of those old Hollywood actors. Cary Grant, yeah?”

“What on earth on you doing up there?” Missy asked from the ground behind him.

“Bird watching,” he returned casually. “Wanna come up?”

“And fall off that wall and break my tail in this habit? I think I'll pass on the offer. Being up there in jeans is one thing, but this habit is a wind catcher for sure.”

Turning around he held out his hand to her. “Come on. I won't let you fall.”

Hitching her robes to her, she moved to a spot where she must have propped an old ladder in order to climb up.

He moved to help her onto the wall, once more forgetting that he couldn't touch the nuns.

She held out her hand as he moved to grasp her elbow and stood on the wall, peering down at the uggie in her jammies.

“Do you suppose they're in pain?” She asked.

“I don't think so, think they're running on instinct and nothing else.” He said, running his hand over the butt of his rifle a little nervously, ready to steady Missy at a moment should she prove correct and the wind grab her. “Reminds me of this fact I heard about octopi and how if you put their corpse by salt their little tentacles react, but they're dead as rocks. Like that, I suppose. Them folks in Japan eating them basically raw, and their little tentacles grab at them chopsticks. Little undead squiggles putting up a fight.”

“This is a person,” she murmured. “She had things to do, goals and dreams.”

“We're all born astride the grave.” He stated.

Handing her his rifle, he pulled out his knife and jumping off the wall, over the thing, he came up behind her and knocked the uggie against the stones, holding her there so he could drive his knife into the base of her skull. It sunk heavily to the ground and he eased the poor woman back into a dignified laying position. Kneeling by the corpse, he wiped his knife blade on her bathrobe, before looking up to find the nun peering down at him quietly.

“Do you want a hand with her?” She asked.

He moved to help her down, his large hand sliding around her waist so that she could hop against him to break her fall somewhat, the other day she had precariously climbed down and nearly fell, today she was wearing her full habit, she offered him a hard look as he set her on her feet.

“That had better been my only option of dismount,” she warned him.

“Unless you want to break your neck today, then yes, ma'am.”

Kneeling over the corpse, Missy pushed the woman's hair out of her face and peered upon the rotted visage.

“Last rites?” He joked.

“I can't give those,” she said. “I just wanted to look at the poor woman. I killed so many of these the past few weeks, I never had a chance to pause and give thought to them. I honestly thought it was for the best to put them out of their misery. They are abominations after all, but they were once God's children.”

Kneeling with her, the Lieutenant nodded. “Bet she was someone's mama. She looks like a mama.”

“I hope her babies are alright, but from what you tell me, I don't imagine they are.” She was quiet for the longest time, before adding, “you'll keep my girls safe, won't you?”

“If you want me to,” he replied. “I haven't got anywhere to be.”

She looked at him for the longest time, those pretty blue eyes of hers shining and hard, despite being the bluest things he had ever seen. Set against her white chocolate skin and framed by luscious dark lashes, she was hell in a habit. If he had to gauge an age on her, he would wager she was around the same age as him, maybe a little younger. She certainly aged well if she were any older, and maybe she had, she was in charge of her convent, after all, and it took a while to advance in any profession.

“Then if you advise me on how to keep them safe, I will listen, but I will not compromise our faith for anything. The bell will stay silent, and we will do a patrol of the wall, but I will not expect any of my girls to harm anyone or anything without knowing for certain that it won't damn them. Some of my nuns still have their faith and I want them to keep it strong.”

“Fair enough,” the returned with a grin, holding out a hand to shake.

She considered it for a moment.

“Nobody went to hell for shaking a Cajun's hand,” he teased.

“Yet,” she murmured with a very, very small shine in her eyes.

Reconsidering his dirty hand, the Lieutenant wiped it on the front of his shirt, before offering it again.

This time she took it, shaking gently.

“You know this reminds me of this story my mamere used to tell me,” he explained, grunting as he scooped up the dead woman. “About this--”

“Sorry, your 'mamere'?” Missy interrupted.

“My granny.” He said, moving the corpse onto the muddy cattle trail of a road leading up to the convent gate where a fire would burn better without starting the woods ablaze. If they were going to keep collecting bodies, he would have to begin burning them. That pile in the woods would soon be doing nobody no good. “She used to tell me about this old man named Gilliam, used to beat the hell out of his old hound. Never deserved the poor thing, so one night, my...uh...granddaddy, he goes over, dead of night, dark as Hades--”

“I don't mean to cut your tale off at the root, I'm certain it's a wonderful parable, Mister Lieutenant, but we are about to burn a body here? Perhaps some wise words or none at all?” Missy suggested.

The Lieutenant was quiet, settling the corpse up in the middle of the muddy trail, before reaching for his lighter. He set the woman ablaze, burning her clothing, knowing full well the parchment paper flesh that remained on her corpse would go up in smoke easily.

Standing back, he glanced around cautiously, knowing that uggies liked to pop up when least expected.

Finding them alone, he turned his attention back to the burning body.

“Uh, dearly beloveds we are gathered here today to, uh, burn this--”

“Are you marrying the corpse or laying her to rest, Lieutenant?” The woman demanded with another very small twinkle in her eye.

“Mais, girl, go easy on me. I ain't a priest.”

“Honey, even the heathens had idols they worshipped before the Christian God,” she pointed out.

“So I'm lesser than a heathen and yet greater then a toad, yeah?” He winked at her.

As the smoke began to choke them with the scent of burning flesh, the nun turned on her heel and headed back to the wall, hiking her hem up as she went tiptoeing through the mud.

“You're certainly bigger than a toad,” she said. “Now use that might and give me a hand up and over, please?”

She squealed an undignified and rather girlish noise as the Lieutenant came up behind her and scooped her up and at the wall with his hands.

“Mind your hands,” she warned coolly as soon as she recovered her dignity.

“Sorry,” he said easily, shifting his left hand from where it cupped her inner thigh, “there's so much skirt to you that I wasn't sure where the safest place to stick my hand was at. I guess I aimed wrong.”

“I nearly had to abandon my vows for you to make an honest woman of me,” she declared, hoisting herself up onto the wall.

Beaming up at her, the Lieutenant said, “hey, now, Missy. Mind your tongue before the devil cuts it off.”

As soon as she was safely on the wall, he said, “now hand me that rifle you got.”

“Aren't you coming up?”

“Well, I promised you some venison now didn't I?”

“This late? Lieutenant, it's almost dark.”

“Best time of day to hunt for deer, yeah?” He winked at her and held out his hand for the gun.

That night the Lieutenant stood in his bell tower watching over the land.

He had to admit, at night like this, with only the cicadas chittering, the ruined world was beautiful still.

As much as he loved people, he enjoyed his solitude as well and with the stars in the sky and the land absolutely still, he was able to just think his thoughts.

“If it keeps on rainin', levees gonna break,” he sung to himself, wandering around the small perimeter of the bell tower, watching all sides for anything moving in the shadows below. Raising the rifle he peered down the scope at something that shifted, it appeared to be shrubs and the wind. “If it keeps on rainin', levees gonna break.”

In the woods he knew they were there, lurking, shuffling, ambling, tripping up and falling. Maws open to devour whatever they fell upon, hands clenched into death claws at their sides, the muscles having retracted and dried up in death.

“And the water gonna come and we'll have no place to stay,” he lowered the rifle as an uggie emerged from the woods.

It was just a shadow really, shuffling from the darkness, finding the wall with its chest, bouncing back and staggering to regain its footing. For a moment, the thing stood dumbly, head bent down, before it seemed to lift its chin and sniff the air.

It wasn't worth it for him to shoot the thing, his gun wasn't much use at times like this, the sound only drawing more to his location, but he liked to use the scope to watch as the dumb thing sort of collapsed against the wall.

From his perspective, he could only see the top of its head, but the manic bobbing told him it had caught their scent and was trying to find a hole in the wall to get at dinner.

Tomorrow he would have to reinforce the wall properly, a few sharp sticks, some hole traps, anything to give them an edge on the dead. He'd head into the nearby town to find something that still drove that he could back against the wrought iron gate.

He wasn't sure about that one, most of the time the vehicles didn't turn over at all. Having never pondered it, he supposed that maybe the gasoline had gone south. He knew it could stale, had tried to drive old lawnmowers enough times to know you had to drain the gas out from the tank if you weren't planning on using them for a good, long while.

Maybe he'd find one though. He only needed her to limp to the convent, it didn't need to win no races.

“Good morning, Lieutenant.”

He had emerged from the church the next morning to Sisters Dymphna, Felicity Perpetua and Mary Claire standing around the steps in the cool shade of the north side.

“Good morning, ladies,” he returned. “Aren't y'all not supposed to talk to me?”

“Only when Mother Mena's not around,” Dymphna replied, her brown eyes sparkling. “Are you heading out?”

“I was planning on doing a little work on the wall today. Did you need me to head out for something?” He asked, coming to stand in the little clutch with them. So far he had found the younger nuns more receptive to his presence than the older ones.

Except for Sisters Gertrude and Boniface, he adored Gertrude and her cats and Sister Boniface was a Quebecois French woman, so he felt a sort of kindred spirit in her.

“Maybe we wanted to do something for you for once,” Sister Mary Claire said with a smile that could brighten a stormy day.

“Something for me?”

Sister Felicity Perpetua, who had been standing with her hands behind her back, produced a child's lunch kit and held it out to him proudly. “We made you a lunch if you're planning on leaving.”

“You have to stay strong,” Sister Mary Claire added. “An army marches on its stomach.”

“Plus, you know, we appreciate you being here for us.” Dymphna added.

There was something sincere in their eyes, something which made the Lieutenant give a slight, unsure pause, before he accepted the lunch kit.

“Thank you,” he said. “I'm going to be just outside the wall working on it today, but maybe at some point I might hike it into the nearby town, see if I can find a big enough truck or some kind of van maybe.”

“What for?” Felicity Perpetua asked.

He motioned for the nuns to follow him towards the gate. They all stopped before it and he motioned with the hand holding his lunch at the rusty gate. “She's solid enough, but old and if enough of those things out there pushed against her at once she could go. I'm going to back a heavy girl up against her and reinforce it.”

The nuns were quiet for a bit, before Dymphna said, “I'm going with you.”

“Nope,” he declared firmly.

“Yes,” she insisted. “You can't go into the town alone with those things out there.”

“I lived this long on my own, I'll be fine.” He stated. “You nuns don't go anywhere outside these walls without me. My job is to keep you safe, your job is to make my job easier by staying here and being your cute little selves.”

“What if something happened to you?” Felicity Perpetua whispered. “My soul would know no peace.”

“Don't you have chores?” Someone asked from behind them, causing a couple of the nuns to jump.

Sister Thomas Aquinas, a stern faced woman of about seventy stood behind them, her arms full of blankets.

The three nuns all ducked out quickly, but not before Dymphna grasped his forearm with a strong, small brown hand.

Looking at him with a hard, glittering stare, the older nun seemed to be sizing him up for a moment, before handing him the blankets.

“Here,” she said. “We found some of these to spare. I thought you might like to keep yourself warmer up in that bell tower.”

“Thank you.”

“You're welcome,” she said tersely, before turning and walking off, muttering to herself about a 'fox in the hen house'.

He missed the days when he could go out into the woods and just sit and enjoy the peace.

Now, whenever he was in the woods, he was vulnerable and on edge. Always prepared for something to stagger out of the underbrush.

There was a time, when he was a boy, he'd duck into the woods by his rural home near Eunice, what wasn't swampy bayou, was pretty little woods filled mostly with cypress and oak trees, the forest floor was always good and moist, carpeted with the soft needles that the bald cypress trees shed.

The smell of the forest was always the way he found peace. That scent of good, clean country air, with a little harmless stank from the bayou, coupled with the scent of the damp earth. It was home sure enough and he missed it.

Georgia had it's own smell. Less bayou, more fresh water on the air. Rivers and streams and creeks. Nothing like the stagnant scent of the swamp.

He supposed, it was perhaps a little more fresher air, though it just wasn't home and that made all the difference.

Georgia was True Love Ways compared to Louisiana's Oh Boy, if Buddy Holly songs could be used to compare the two. Both good songs, though one was a little more melodic and slow-paced, the other had a bit more get-up-and-go.

“Boy, what are you doing to my wall?”

The voice came from above him on the wall and he looked up to find a furious nun standing there, swaying a little unsteadily in her habit and the mild wind.

“Just reinforcing it, Missy,” he said.

Philomena sighed. “We look like an ancient castle with these sharp sticks poking out.”

Stepping back, he admired his work and nodded. “Yeah, palisades, that's where I got the idea. Figured if it kept them old Celt tribes out, it'd work for us.”

“It doesn't look very inviting,” she muttered.

“It's not supposed to be a welcome mat,” he replied.

“Well, I suppose that's fine, just please don't hoist yourself on your own petard,” she said after a moment of thought.

He wiped his hands off and dug through his pack for the lunch the nuns had packed him. “You up there for a reason?”

“Sister Mary Claire says some of the younger nuns expressed interest in helping you outside these walls.”

“And you want to slap my wrist for tempting them?” He used the gate to climb onto the wall and sat beside her to eat his lunch.

“Not entirely,” she admitted, easing down a little clumsily beside him. “I think...well maybe you could be permitted to teach those of us interested in a few ways to defend ourselves from the abominations.”

Plucking a half a carrot out of his mouth, he crunched on the other half for a good long while. It was so delicious. He had forgotten what fresh veggies tasted like.

“Really?” He finally asked.

She stared off down the cattle trail before them, and he followed her gaze. The path was hung over with oak branches and Spanish moss, pretty for the late summer, but it was tainted by the dead. Always and forever tainted now. Somewhere out there in those pretty trees and green shrubs they ambled and shuffled and staggered and crawled, gnashing and drooling for their next meal. And somehow it worried him more to think about them in the broad daylight, then at night where all the boogins and monsters belonged.

He supposed those uggies all had hopes and dreams and plans set aside now for one thing and one thing only. Same as him, same as the woman sitting beside him, same as all the nuns in the convent behind them.

“Our wills and fates do so contrary run,” he began with a sigh, reminded by something she had said earlier.

Beside him Missy was quiet still, eyes on the world beyond her walls. “You're well read, for a soldier.”

“I'm sure you had to read Hamlet in high school too,” he teased. “A lot of it just stuck with me, I suppose. Don't be fooled,” he went on with a grin, “I'm just a simple country boy from the bayou.”

“I grew up in Savannah,” she said. “Have you ever been?”

“No,” he admitted. “Didn't get a chance before all this and I damned well won't go now. It'll be overrun.”

“We've been so secluded here,” she admitted gently. “I thought though, that someday I would be transferred out to a school or a...missionary, but I suppose this is my life now.” She hurried to add, “not that I'm complaining. I will bear this with grace, only that I miss the outside world, God's real world out there. Art and books, beauty created by the hands of His creatures, so much lost now.”

The Lieutenant stared at the woman as she continued to gaze wistfully out at the trees. He was so struck by how easy she made being beautiful look. “Has anyone ever told you that you that you look like Vivian Leigh?” He asked.

For a moment, the woman's face read irritated, then puzzled, before she finally smiled sweetly and looked down. “Tell me, Mister Lieutenant, is it nature or force that compels you to flirt with every woman you meet?”

“Sometimes it's not just women,” he teased.

“Oh!” She offered him a scolding look, though her face was still mostly smiles and amusement.

He beamed.

[eldritchsurveys]

685.

what was going through your mind during the presidential campaign? were you relieved when it was over? >> This survey is from early 2009 and let me tell you, I don’t even remember the 2008 election anymore. I’ll be fucking relieved when this year’s is over, though (although depending on who wins, the noise might keep going right through the end of the year, so I may get no relief).

what do you think of the Duggar family ( 17+ kids )? could you handle taking care of that many children? >> I have my share of uncharitable thoughts about families with that many children, but I’d rather not give voice to that kind of rudeness. It’s nothing to do with me, anyway. I couldn’t handle taking care of one child, so that’s that on that.

in your opinion, do you think that you act your age? what do other people think? >> I don’t know what it is to act a certain number of years old. I don’t know what other people think regarding this and I really don’t care.

what is the nicest thing you have ever done for a stranger? >> Nothing comes to mind.

so far, what is the number one, best decision you have ever made? how has it effected your life? >> I find it difficult to think of my life in terms of decisions I’ve made, and direct results of those decisions. That’s just not how things work -- I’ve made choices, but the things that happened after those choices are not necessarily direct results of the choices I made. The element of other people and the element of randomness play equal parts, too.

have you reunited with any old friends recently? was it awkward, or just like old times? >> No.

when was the last time you talked to your first ex? >> ---

how different is your online personality from your offline personality? >> It’s the same personality, dude. It might manifest somewhat differently because of the difference in communication style (typed dialogue vs face-to-face dialogue), and that’s all.

have you made any headway on any new year's resolutions? >> I don’t make resolutions.

what are your favorite holiday-themed movies? >> It’s a Wonderful Life, Rise of the Guardians, Klaus, Love Actually.

do you listen to christmas-/winter-themed music when the season comes around? >> I sure do.

if you could create a law, what would it be, and why? what if you could take one away? which, and why? >> I have zero interest in the law.

is there anything that you do that's potentially controversial? >> Well, sure, depending on one’s worldview. I’m sure some special people out there don’t think I should even be alive, in which case my very existence is controversial.

would you ever sign up for a reality television show? if yes: which one, why, and how would you act while on tv? >> No. Absolutely fucking not. NO.

what is your most recent obsession? >> Hmm... Heartman from Death Stranding, maybe. Low-grade obsession, but it counts.

do you say "merry christmas" or "happy holidays"? to you, does it really matter which one is said / you say? do you do your best to remain politically correct? >> I repeat whatever is said to me first, because that’s usually how such interactions go -- I rarely initiate any sort of seasonal greeting like this.

if you could relive one week of your life, which would it be, and why? would you do anything differently, or keep it all the same? >> I would really rather not.

is there a part of your life you wish you could remember, but can't? >> Sometimes I get frustrated with the patchiness and distance, so to speak, of my memory, but I’ve come to expect it. Most of these memories aren’t specifically mine, after all.

what was the last thing / event to trigger a painful memory? >> A lot of my memories are painful because they make me feel alien and disjointed, or like I’ve “lost” something important, or whatever. So, like, I don’t know if anything triggers that, sometimes I just randomly remember shit.

if you had to give up one of your 5 senses, which would it be? >> No thanks.

what do you think of people that choose not to vote? >> I don’t think anything of them. That’s their right. The fuck do I care? Also, I was one of those people until very recently, and I still don’t feel any better or like a better citizen or whatever for having begrudgingly registered.

are you keeping anything from the people you love? >> I mean, not intentionally, I guess.

have you ever written a suicide note, whether joking or not? >> No.

what is the worst physical pain you have endured? >> Cramps.

what is one thing that you want other people to know about you? why is it so important that someone knows this? >> Meh.

what is something you wish people DIDN'T know about you? what would be different if they didn't? >> I have Trauma Brain so I irrationally wish no one knew anything about me because vulnerability bad.

what is the worst question that someone could possibly ask you? what about the worst thing that someone could say to you? >> *shrug*?

would you consider yourself a sensitive person? why, or why not? >> I don’t know. Maybe there is a sensitive person in here somewhere, but it’s buried in all the noise from Trauma Brain. Or maybe Trauma Brain is the sensitive person turned in on itself. I don’t fucking know, next.

you can spend the day with anyone, living or dead; who do you choose? what do you do / where do you go? >> ---

when was the last time you let something 'go to your head'? >> I don’t really know.

when are you most likely to show off? >> I don’t show off. I have nothing to show off, lol.

which would you prefer: spectacular view of the ocean, or of the mountains? >> I like both views. I don’t see why I should have to choose. I live on a landmass where you can easily make trips to see both. (Well, considering travel expenses, “easily” might not be the right word. But.)

do you follow any dating rules / play any dating games? >> No.

when was the last time you felt extremely confident about something? >> Good question.

how do you, personally, know when you are falling in love? >> ---

when was the last time you blew the seeds off of a dandelion? >> Maybe last spring? I don’t know. I do enjoy doing that very much, though.

in your opinion, which holiday is the least important? >> All of the United States-specific ones are just. Trash.

what was the last thing that happened that you couldn't explain? >> I can think of an explanation for anything. Whether the explanation makes any sense to anyone else but me is the question.

what do you do with all of your spare change? >> ---

where did you hear about your all-time favorite band? >> ---

how many cans of soda do you drink in a day? >> Zero.

what is your idea of paradise? >> I never bothered thinking of one. Maybe Inworld is the closest thing.

what do you think goes on in the minds of the opposite sex? >> You know. Thoughts.

what is the oldest thing that you own? and the newest? >> I have no idea what the oldest thing I own is, but I guarantee you it’s not more than 4 years old. The newest thing is an eyeshadow palette and a lipstick that Sparrow got me.

is there anything you wish you had never found out about? >> Probably.

describe your handwriting? >> I don’t know how to describe it. It’d probably be pretty difficult to forge.

have you ever had to choose between friends and family? if yes, what happened? >> No.

in what ways has music affected your life? >> Many ways. It’s a very integral part of my life and has been since childhood. It’s the one constant (aside from Inworld).

what is something that you refuse to believe in? >> I don’t refuse to believe in anything. Some systems just don’t work for me so I don’t use them. They might exist for someone, but they don’t for me.

what is something you wish more people believed in? >> ---

what food is your ultimate comfort food? >> I don’t think I have one.

have you ever put anything inside a time capsule? what? >> When I was pretty young, I tried to make one. But I opened it within like, a year. I couldn’t imagine waiting for like... ten years or whatever because I couldn’t even fathom that kind of time, lmao.

how did you come up with your bzoink screen name? what would you change it to, if you could? >> It’s just one of my standard usernames. I really only registered to avoid seeing that “this is a rated R survey” screen and having to click through it every time.

when was the last time you experienced deja vu? >> I don’t remember. Maybe never.

what do you do when someone snarkily corrects your grammar? >> Ignore them.

what was the last thing that you put quotations around? >> Part of my answer three questions ago.

in the time it took you to fill this out, what else could you have done? >> Well, it’s taken me a half-hour, so I could have done a lot of things in that time. Watched a show episode, eaten, done a dance, idk.

is there too much violence on tv, or are people to sensitive? >> There is a lot of violence on television. People should be sensitive to violence, because desensitisation to violence has led to a lot of bad shit. Personally, I’m mostly desensitised to fictional violence and that probably is becuase I’ve seen a fuckton of it, but fictional violence isn’t the same as real-life violence, and I would probably still react more acutely to violence that’s literally happening in front of me.

what is one "junk food" you enjoy? >> I refuse to label foods like this. It’s reductive and unhelpful.

what is one "health food" you enjoy? >> ^

what is something you used to fear, but no longer do? >> Thunderstorms.

who was your first hero? >> ---

is there anything your friends won't let you forget? >> No?

is there something you have trouble putting into words? >> There are many things I have trouble verbalising.

when was the last time you were at a loss for words? >> I don’t remember.

what bothers you most about getting older? >> The increased likelihood of disease and infirmity.

have you ever flown all by yourself? how was it? >> Many times. It’s lovely.

if you have one hour left to live, how do you spend it? >> ---

do you think it's important to know a 2nd language? >> Sure, but it might not be important to someone else, and that’s fine.

do you know anyone that's just naturally good at almost everything? >> No.

do you know anyone that's just bad at everything? >> No.

what is one emoticon you use often? >> xD

what is one emoticon you almost never use? >> Hmm.... I can’t think of one.

do you use emoticons to express yourself? >> Sure. That’s what they’re there for.

[ellanainthetardis]

Greetings to my favorite writer!(That's you :)) Here's a prompt. Can you do one where Haymitch accidentally calls Effie "my love". Its like Haymitch is in deep thoughts about his feelings for Effie and he didn't realize she's been trying to get his attention. And Effie's like "Hello! Earth to Haymitch!" And then Haymitch goes "Yes, my love?" What happens from there is up to you. (Oh, and may I ask how long is your prompt list by now? I just want to have an idea to where I stand on the queue :D)

Well it was probably a long wait. Sorry! [x]

Never Boring

Plutarch did love to hear himself talk, Effieuncharitably mused, drumming her broken nails on the edge of the briefingtable. Coin was listening to every word, her milky grey eyes riveted on theformer Head Gamemaker, her face a blank mask that didn’t even reflect a hint ofpolite interest. She had noticed Thirteen’s leader had very little patience foranything that wasn’t related to war butshe had also noticed a shift lately, as if Coin had finally understood she needed to work on her image if she wanted toupgrade from leading a District to leading a country.

Which was why Plutarch was rambling aboutapproaches, speeches and possible propos that they needed to be careful aboutbecause Katniss had to remain the face of the rebellion after all. It wouldn’thave done to confuse people now.

It was all a sound plan in Effie’s opinion butshe would have summed it up in a fifteen minutes briefing instead of the halfhour long tirade Plutarch was on.

She was pretty sure Boggs was sleeping. Withopen eyelids, yes, but he looked asleep.

Beetee was doodling on the little notebook hecarried everywhere with him. It might have been a new invention, it might havebeen a caricature of the Capitol man who was cheerfully talking, apparentlyunaware everyone around that table was bored.

She chanced a glance to the left, hopingHaymitch might turn out to be a source of distraction – because, let’s behonest, it wouldn’t have been the first time they would have discreetly (and ina most foolish manner) teased each other under the table, safe from preyingeyes, during a boring briefing – but he was staring into the distance,absent-mindedly tugging on the battered golden bangle around his wrist withoutever entirely slipping it off.

She let out a small sigh and focused on herdrumming fingers. The sight made her cringe. Most of her nails had blackened,some were chipped and painful when she accidentally hit them against the wood.

She didn’t like thinking about her first fewhours in Thirteen. The rebels had stripped her off everything that made her her. They hadn’t hit her, they hadn’traised their voices at her, but the threat had been there all the same. Theyhad taken all her jewelry, they had taken most of what had been in her purseexcept for the silver lighter she had fearlessly clung too, claiming they couldtake everything else but that becauseit was a heirloom – and that hadtaken some convincing – and then they had asked her to surrender wigs andfrills to slip on the grey monstrosity she was now forced to wear.

It had only taken her a few seconds to decideshe hated military districts even more than she hated poor ones. She wasn’texactly fond of the dangerous games of appearances in the Capitol either but,at least, she knew how to survive in thatparticular fish tank.

She hadn’t had the first clue how to survive ina place where strangers tore off your lovely fake nails without skills or careon your very first day there.

Most days, she was still trying to figure thatout. Relying on Haymitch for protection worked up to a point but she was alwaysanxious of doing the wrong thing, of sayingthe wrong thing. She tried to fit in, she did, but she stuck out like asore thumb. The fact that refugees kept tossing her dark looks and spat insultsher way wasn’t helping her settle in and Haymitch’s tacit refusal to take herdefense unless there was a physical threat stung.

She understood, of course. It was the very samereason he had always let the other victors make fun of her up to a point. Shewas an escort, she had done terrible things in the name of the Capitol – and inher own name, for her own glory – she deserved what she got. The fact that he had chosen to see past that, to seebeyond the escort’s mask, didn’t mean he didn’t respect other people’s reasonsfor hating her.

Somehow, even knowing that, it still hurt herwhen he stood by and let someone mutter an insult in her wake.

They were less likely to do it when he wasaround though, she had noticed, and a few people had actually been morewelcoming and nicer than she had expected, thanks to his open friendship andKatniss’ family’s willingness to include her, but he always told her to ignoreit and walk on when someone called her out on her escort’s past.

Or present.

She wasstill the Mockingjay’s escort, after all.

Even if her current job felt more like beingPlutarch’s personal assistant rather than Twelve’s escort.

“I will take it under consideration.” Coindeclared. Effie realized with a startled jolt that Plutarch had finally reached his conclusion. Everyonelooked at Thirteen’s leader hopefully and the woman rolled her eyes. “We willtake a fifteen minutes break.”

It seemed that everyone couldn’t bolt out ofthat room early enough.

Even Plutarch left, murmuring something aboutbeing parched and needing some water.

Effie stood up and discretely made hershoulders roll, hoping to relieve the tension that had gathered there. Haymitch,she noticed, hadn’t moved one inch, his gaze was still lost. Whatever he wasthinking about, it must have been fascinating.

Still, she thought he would be sorry he hadmissed the break.

She gently placed her hand on his shoulder,careful not to been seen as a threat. She had learned long ago that hissubconscious didn’t react well to that sort of things. “Haymitch?”

His hand shot up to cover hers. “My love?”

His voice was faraway and it was plain to seehe was still lost in his thoughts but the word took her breath away all thesame. He had hinted at it lately,vague allusions as to why he had had her brought to Thirteen when shecomplained, claims that he had made sure she wouldn’t get a roommate, muttered explanationsthat he liked sleeping with her at nights better than he liked lying awake inthe compartment he shared with Plutarch because she made everything bearable,small touches and soft words he wasn’t usually in a habit of offering…

She cleared her throat and squeezed hisshoulder hard enough that he jumped a little and blinked out of hisdaydreaming. He looked up at her, glanced around and made a face. “He’s finallydone? I spaced out.”

“I noticed.” she hummed, a pleased smilefloating on her lips. It was obvious to her he had no clue what he had calledher, which made it all the more precious. “What were you thinking about?”

His mouth twitched into one of his familiarsmirks and he wiggled his eyebrows, tilting his head a little to watch her withthat impudence she really shouldn’t have found so attractive. “Wanna guess?”

She rolled her eyes but didn’t call him out onhis lie. She could grant him his pretences, he had humored hers often enough.

“I hope it was a particularly fruitful reflection.” she teased. “Iwill expect something imaginativetonight.”

His chuckles were immediate and strangelydevoid of their usual bitterness. “You’re finally bored with me, Princess?”

“Isn’t that my line?” she retorted withamusement, taking back her seat.

“It’s a stupid question anyway, yeah?” heshrugged, his teasing smirk softening into fondness. “I’ve got this feelingwe’re still gonna be right here in forty years. Fighting, fucking and driving each other insane. No place for boring in there.” He paused and snorted.“Assuming we survive this shit, thatis.”

Her heart was beating so hard in her chest italmost hurt.

“Forty?” she repeated. “That’s ambitious.”

“Probably.” he admitted. “My liver’s gonna kickthe bucket long before that.”

She refused to consider the reality of what hisalcoholism may have done to his body. The Capitol did miracles with illnessesanyway. The war wouldn’t last forever and… They would cross that bridge when and if they came to it.

“I meantthe sex.” she countered, careful to keep her tone casual. “You think we willstill have sex when we are in our eighties?”

“Hell,sweetheart… I’m still gonna want to fuckyou if we reach a hundred.” hemocked. “That’s what those blue pills are for. We’re gonna be that kind of oldpeople who have a dirty kinky sex life.”

The idea that he had been thinking about whatsort of life they could have together was more shocking that hearing him callher his love. She didn’t try to make the conversation more serious or to getmore than he was willing to give. From him, this was already huge. A lot more than she had everexpected.

“We will break our hips having sex.” shepromised, fighting a laugh. “Won’t that be embarrassing to explain at thehospital…”

“See?” he challenged, reaching out to place hishand on her thigh. “Never boring.”

“Never boring.” she echoed.

[sanjuno]

It’s another gods-be-damned Time Travel Concept Fic

Yeah so I’m calling this one A Widening Gyre because I’m not at all pretentious. XP

IN FAIR KONOHA WE SET OUR SCENE

Rin was a jinchuriki and we all know that those people don’t die easy, so she totes survives the chidori to the chest. The need to heal from near-death let Obito have his dramatic breakdown in the rain over her (not-quite) dead body plus gave Minato enough wiggle room to fix the faults and traps in Rin’s seal.

Rin was declared KIA though, and her survival was classified to protect her from Kiri trying to get the Sanbi back and also to keep the Elder Council from fucking with her. “Turtle” joins ANBU under the command of “Wolf” and they are the scariest dual act ANBU has seen for a long time. Like, holy shit. Then “Tiger” joins their team right after “Wolf” gets his Captain promotion, and the addition of Mokuton is frankly ridiculous. Then “Crow” joins the team right as Kushina announces her pregnancy and this is just. They are all approx. 4 feet tall and the most terrifying ANBU team Konoha has and no one knows how to deal with this. (There are rumours about an ANBU trainee going by “Raven” and FFS T&I isn’t paid enough to deal with this nonsense.)

Obito is a sensor (natural or trained IDK but he has that skill set) and he gets sidetracked on his way to Naruto’s birth b/c “That’s... that’s Rin.” Things happen, reunion of the Team plus “You’re alive!” drama is interrupted by Danzo being a giant bag of dicks, ROOT shenanigans ensue because Kinoe is also “Tiger” and KakaRin are possessive little shits. To say nothing of how Shisui reacts to the idea of someone being more important to his teammate than him. (Fucking Uchiha drama queens I swear...)

This is all taking place while Kushina is in labour BTW. WTF people how are you fitting this many feels into less than 12 hours I am impressed by this. Danzo was expecting Zetsu and “Madara” to back him up r.e. disposing Minato and getting the Kyuubi shoved in a more manageable host but Obito is la~ate and also KakaRin have v. strong grips, like wow do you work out?

Kakashi and his-name-is-Tenzo-now’s weird bromance drama comes to a climax when Danzo is chased back to his HQ by the Hokage’s v. pissed off guard team. (Hi Genma and Raido welcome to the madness.)

So it turns out that Danzo took over Tobirama’s old lab as ROOT’s main base but missed a few experiments pretending to be part of the security system. Oops. So Kamui plus experimental seals plus the Hiraishin markers carried by Genma and Raido and Kakashi plus an attempt to interfere with Rin’s containment seal means it all goes BOOM

Upside: Kyuubi stays sealed.

Downside: Sanbi goes on a rampage instead.

This is the last we see of the future Konoha timeline kthnksbye~eee...

NEW SCENE SETTING: THE WARRING CLANS ERA

Rin is out of it b/c Sanbi was forcibly removed from her chakra coils

Upside: She gets to keep a larger reserve of chakra than what she was born with naturally, keeps a few of the jinchuriki perks like rapid healing, and her chakra control is back to medic-inn levels for the first time in almost 2 years!

Downside: Motherfucking ow.

Rin is down, therefore Danzo did something to her so KakaObi don’t hesitate in aiming to kill. Genma and Raido trust Kakashi and back him up but oh look Danzo has stolen sharingan eyes implanted in a creepy zombie arm oh very shit forever.

EPIC SHOWDOWN!! FIGHT!!

KakaObi are scary AF and also apparently share a brain. Danzo is made v. dead before they even realize that they’ve been shot-put through time as well as space. But leftover Zetsu shit/heart seal is triggered when Danzo tries to not die but Kakashi gets in the way b/c he’s not losing Obito again. MAGIC NINJA DEATH CURSE NO JUTSU idk I’ll figure out the details later but OH NO Kakashi is poisoned and Obito is distraught b/c Kakashi just jumped on the sword for Obito again this is not a theme Obito likes to see reoccur fuck you universe.

The antidote only grows along the seashore so ANBU Team Baby Genii Ne minus Wolf do a suicide run to Wave Country and back.

Without Danzo around Kakashi, at 14 years of age, is the highest ranked Leaf Shinobi. ROOT proceeds to imprint like ducklings.

Shit friends I just realized that Kabuto is still in ROOT at this point excellent now Genma can be the poison specialist and Kabuto can be the baby medic and they can work together to keep Kakashi alive while Obito threatens to kill everything (except Rin) if Kakashi dies.

Alrighty fuck it let’s make it a party. Anko’s there too b/c she followed the mayhem b/c she knows that Danzo had something to do with Orochimaru’s defection but her Curse Seal gets the same yoink treatment as Rin’s Bijuu Seal and now Anko’s 100% doing the deputy thing while Raido arranges the patrols. (Radio may not have the highest rank in their group but he is the oldest so that’ll have to do)

Tiny baby Sai and Shin are the cutest murder babies aww... (Also get to indulge my HC that newborn Uchiha have red eyes instead of blue so Itachi and Shisui know from the get-go that Sai is an Uchiha.)

Speaking of murder babies Itachi is trying v. hard not to think about never seeing Sasuke or his parents again. (FFS Itachi is the only one of these jackasses to canonically have living parents at this point in the TL. Except Rin but TBH she’s been pretending to be dead for the last 2 years so I don’t think she counts anymore.) Itachi is going to latch onto Sai so hard as a replacement baby bro omg Itachi stahp

War interruptus via Kakashi’s ANBU team plus All The Baby ROOT Agents. This will be fun!

Team Ne is gonna bulldoze through a Senju patrol on their way out to the shore. Tobirama was not expecting a hostile Mokuton user to defend a couple of Uchiha and also the girl they were with broke a tree with her fist and then it melted. Toka definitely saves Tobirama’s pasty ass b/c his instincts forget to dodge IRT Mokuton jutsu.

Team Ne is also going to trip over an Uchiha patrol and Itachi is high-key going to not!cry b/c Izuna looks hella like Mikoto/Sasuke and Itachi misses them. Shisui does a lot of high velocity absconding with his teammates come on ppl keep running pls. Izuna is so confused by tiny Uchiha not knowing who he is and running around with some random not!Uchiha WTH?

For max drama Team Ne will blast through a big battle, interrupt Hashirama and Madara’s posturing, accidentally save Izuna’s life (thanks, Shisui) and then bravely run away without ever slowing down. Senju and Uchiha call truce while they figure out WTF is up with those kids and track them down.

This team-up thing does give both sides a chance to see the “Hashirama And Madara Show” up close. Madara lovingly and eloquently details all the many and varied ways Hashirama is an idiot (it sounds an awful lot like Tobirama’s most uncharitable thoughts re. his brother. Only blunter.) Hashirama just laughs and agrees with Madara WTF Anija? The Hashirama does his best to hug Madara to death b/c they are apparently the cuddling type of sworn enemies (Izuna is horrified and so offended. He’s the only one allowed to snuggle the grumps out of Madara!) Izuna and Tobirama are the world’s most resentful team-up ever but they’re doing their v. best to keep their older bros apart b/c no, Anija, just no.

They find the Konoha camp b/c Tobirama is a stupidly strong sensor and Hashirama can tell where the trees got bent by Mokuton. They were not expecting to find nothing but children. Raido is the oldest and he’s only like 19-ish I think? Plus ROOT kiddos are suu~uuper creepy-tactic omg.

NOW BACK IT UP A LITTLE!!

SR timeskip mostly consists of Kakashi escaping his medic, making Obito panic, and bonding with the ROOT minions (this involves a lot of spitting on Danzo’s grave TBH. They all find it v. therapeutic.) The worst of the poison’s effects are being mitigated by Genma’s antidotes and Kabuto’s treatments but that’s just a delaying tactic to prevent total system shutdown so Team Ne really needed to hurry the fuck up.

Obito is A Mess b/c Zetsu/Danzo were just using him to hit Kakashi (just like the Iwa-nin who took Kakashi’s eye and you know that means something more to an Uchiha than the standard shinobi but Obito can't fix the poison damage from progressing though spontaneous organ donation.) Kakashi keeps Obito distracted and busy growing a fortified encampment for all his adorable new minions. Genma and Raido are just glad not to have the terrifying Uchiha powerhouse threatening to turn them inside out every 10 minutes thanks muchly.

Captain Wolf has already managed to take over as the focus of the ROOT agent’s personality cult. Obito is now the leading member of the Kakashi fan club (b/c Tenzo is off on the SR at the time, nat.) Genma and Raido are Concerned b/c Kakashi hasn’t been emotionally stable since he was 6 y/o there’s no way him being a role model for 100 brainwashed baby assassins will end well.

Anko thinks everything is hysterical and she’s so glad she stuck her nose in where it wasn’t wanted this is better than Icha Icha. Izumi’s just happy someone got her away from Danzo before he could fuck up her head/mess with her eyes too much. (This was the most horrible side effect of her betrothal to Itachi being announced how did Danzo even get her out of the compound FFS?)

11th hour arrival by Team Ne with the antidote means Rin, Genma, Kabuto, Obito, and Tenzo are all v. busy when the Uchiha/Senju combo team find the Konoha camp.

So then Kakashi wakes up after being cured and there’s more weirdness b/c Obito has both his eyes but Kakashi’s left eye is still red and works like a Sharingan but it isn’t a sharingan obvs. but they still share a field of vision and Obito’s left eye is silver when the sharingan is turned off and Rin is 100% done with both of them defying medical convention. There is a lot of head scratching and pointing of fingers before they hug it out is what I’m saying.

Team Ne thinks this is adorable and super romantic and the entire camp ships it so hard you have no idea. I might make this Rin Demi-Ace b/c then her crush on 9 y/o Kakashi when she’s 13 is much more understandable. (A squish just fits better to the situation IMHO.) Also ace!Rin would 100% be the one to join forces with bb!Kabuto to create (recreate? precreate?) Orochimaru’s test-tube-baby no jutsu in the WCE.

SRTS IS DONE NOW YAY NOW TO FUCK WITH THE FOUNDERS

Raido is A Wall and he never anticipated using his ANBU training to waylay the 1st and 2nd Hokage WTF is even his life but Teamwork! and TWOF means Standing Strong even if Uchiha Madara is Scary AF wow and Raido thought seeing Fugaku-dono walk into a room was bad.

Kakashi is cured (yay!) and also gets to arrive dramatically on the scene of confrontation and verbally bitchslap everyone into calming TF down b/c I Have A Headache And I’m Tired Of Your Shit. Rabidly overprotective ObiRin are rabid and overprotective. Also Obito is super Uncanny Valley b/c he looks just like Madara and Tobirama is busy having a heart attack b/c this “Captain” person has Itama’s eyes (red and grey) and Tenzo has Mokuton and is maybe reminding him too much of Kawarama and also Itachi has the same grump lines as Madara and Shisui has Izuna’s smile.

Yeah so everyone from the WCE is pretty much convinced that their “dead” siblings were kidnapped instead and the large number of Clan children Danzo kidnapped for ROOT doesn’t actually do much except convince them they’re right. Kakashi OFC decides to play along WTF you giant troll and what the Captain says goes so the tiny minions aren’t arguing and Genma’s like FFS it’s the WCE I want to live agree with the terrifying figures of legend already you idiots.

Note that at this point Obito is still gaslighted to believe that Madara wants world peace and no wars ever and irony at it’s best is that this iteration of Madara is still at the point in his life where he actually does still have solid moral objections to children dying b/c their Clan Leaders can’t keep a fucking peace treaty. So yeah.

Tobirama and Madara are in raptures over their “little brothers” still being alive and also found. Obito is v. affectionate b/c he “remembers” Madara. Shisui is also super cuddly. Itachi mostly just stares and is confused by human interaction. Kakashi is Fierce and nearly feral and makes Hashirama cry a bit and Tobirama is So Mad b/c Itama was a gentle boy what happened and Tenzo was Kinoe until literally just last week and he’s v. much not the happy kid Kawarama was.

So much jealousy when Kakashi lets Obito cuddle him. Kakashi Ignores Them and just keeps commanding everyone around while being princess carried by the homicidal Uchiha. Which... Obito having Mouton confuses the Senju team so much but Hashirama is so excited b/c Tenzo (”Kawarama!” / “My name is Tenzo, Senju-dono.”) has Mokuton too and now he has people to practice with!

So that whole thing where the Senju and the Uchiha HATE each other b/c dead kids gets massively derailed like whoa b/c look they’re alive and also someone else has been playing silly buggers to make all the Clans keep doing the War Things so. So the Senju and the Uchiha still don’t like each other much but they hate ROOT more. Zetsu circa. WCE finds it 111% impossible to manipulate things from behind the scenes b/c They’re On To Him.

So Konoha gets founded like 10 to 15 years earlier than in canon b/c none of the Konoha-nin are willing to leave their Captain and also strength in numbers b/c someone’s been stealing our babies is really up there so far as motivation to maintain cordial relations with other Ninja Clans goes. Other Clans joining Konoha happens both faster and with more issues b/c ROOT kids are many things but normally socialized is not one of them.

Do I hate Kakashi enough to make him Shodaime? TBH it’d be hella funny and the other Nations Are Not Prepared for trolling on Kakashi’s level even if it’s just baby troll Kakashi.

POLITICS and ninja diplomacy ensue.

TBH I just wanna see Tobirama slam Madara up against a wall and fuck him crosseyed. Hashirama was Not Emotionally Prepared to realize that his little brothers and their libidos were already acquainted. Izuna decides that Itachi is his favourite b/c Itachi’s the only one not fucking a Senju. (Joke’s on him though b/c both polyamory and Senju Toka are things that exist.)

Endgame is for TobiMada, ObiKakaRin, ShiTen, MitoHashi, TokaIzuKanna (Kanna is my OC stand-in for Izuna’s unnamed canonical wife), ItaIzumi, GenRai. Not sure that it’s much important b/c Romance not really a major plot point and also Kakashi is 14 y/o through this whole thing but also ninja mature quick so maybe it’s more important that I think it’s gonna be? I dunno whatevs guys that’s all I’ve got except for maybe some timestamps later.

TA DAH THE END!!

Anyway yeah, I needed to get this written down somewhere b/c it would not Leave Me Alone while I was trying to write other things.