#but he's so uplifting!! he sends him off at the station with kind words!!

[bonemeal12]

I love this panel so much. I love this whole issue. look at their little faces :)

[ajokeformur-ray]

i’m the skincare nonnie! thank YOU sou much for your everyday kindness.

also there is this idea that i just have to vent out because i’m not really a writer, but it’s been stuck in my head for weeks now. i was curious as to what j’s reaction would be to seeing someone he used to babysit years before he turned into the joker? like teenage years. maybe he was doing it for some extra money. from a reader’s perspective, maybe you see him on the news that first time and are hit with the realization that is him.

i imagine a scenario like this;

you’re sitting in front of the tv, scrolling through when you land on the news station. at first, it seems a bit off. killer clown? you stay on the channel, thrown by the wording of the headline. the news anchors drone on about the back robberies before displaying a picture.

you drop whatever it is in your hands, recognizing that wide smile. you know it’s him, there’s something in your gut telling you.

then one day, you’re strolling through the streets of gotham and just... end up at the wrong place at the wrong time in some alley when he’s closing a deal. your freeze when you see him. it’s been so long. his head snaps up at the sound of your approaching footsteps and he is almost starstruck.

i don’t think his face would display it so much, but he would genuinely be surprised to see how much you had grown. he recognizes you instantly, and i think his mood would completely uplift and he’d put on that charm like he did with rachel.

“well,” he says, his lips curling up into a small smirk. “look at how big you’ve gotten, kiddo. haven’t seen ya since you were, ah, runnin’ around, givin’ me a hard time.” he narrows his eyes at you pointedly, a silent message that he remembers babysitting you and how much of a pain you were (in the best way possible, of course.)b

but nonetheless, you were like family to him at that point and... that hadn’t exactly changed. he still saw the kid he used to take care of.

“ja-”

he practically lunges forward, his hand clamping onto your mouth as he shushes you with a stern expression. “ah-ta-ta-ta. careful throwin’ that name around, doll. don’t ah, want it falling into the wrong hands now, do we?” another pointed look with a raise of his eyebrows- he’s telling you to zip it.

“okay. j it is then.”

i don’t know why, but i just think this would be such an interesting dynamic to see. almost like a brother-sister kind of ordeal with a slight twist. i’m sorry if this bothered you and you don’t even have to read it or respond, i just really needed to write that out’

Skincare nonnieeee ~ 🥰🥰🥰🥰

Ever since you mentioned to me the use of witch hazel, my skin has cleared right up and my acne scarring’s gone down a bit, too! I now only get spots if I’m close to being on my period; but it’s minimal compared to what it used to be. Thank you so much once again for your guidance and helping in seeking proper care for my skin!!🥺🙏💙

I love this scenario; it’s perfect!!!💖💖💖 It’s so well written and it’s such an interesting dynamic to think of. I think J really would remember babysitting you and I think he’d be a... casual protector of sorts over you. Short on money one week? Someone wires you just enough to get you through to your next paycheck from a throwaway account. Late for work? Some kind of traffic accident or hold up occurs which means you get there on time and/or get told to not come in because the road’s blocked up too badly.

Things such as that would keep happening after the reunion; or so I like to think! It’s really interest to think of and definitely a brother-sister type thing. I love this so much, thank you so much for writing it out and for sending it to me! I’m so sorry that it took me so long to respond to this hasdfghjk I hope you’re around to see my response!!!💛🌸🌸🌸

[fleetwoodmactshirt]

roadtrip headcanons (requested)

i think they’d all have a different vibe and a different energy. i didn’t really rank them best to worst, i just explored what i think the vibe of a road trip with each of them would be like. i also let loose and slipped in some super self-indulgent personal hcs/one-shot au idea that is a WiP about ezra as an intriguing handsome stranger you encounter on your solo cross-country road trip. as a treat. s/o to @ithinkhesgaybutwesavedmufasa​ for suggesting whiskey’s fav song.

frankie morales is the road trip king. no matter how spontaneous, frankie can whip a road trip plan together smoothly. he’s got a spacious truck, he’s got a cooler, he’s got the coziest blankets, he’s got the travel pillow, he’s got the camping gear, he knows the best scenic routes, he’s got the best classic tunes, he’s got the best snacks. he makes homemade sandwiches and burritos, wraps them tightly in tin foil. he heats up frozen pizzas, cuts them into slices. he stores it all in the cooler for lunches. when the supply runs out, you gorge yourselves on burgers and fries at roadside diners. but every morning he’ll stop in the nearest town to buy some apples, or some fresh fruit/veg of some kind. if they’re ripe he’ll get avocados that he’ll cut in half for you both to scoop out with a spoon to eat plain while you sit together in the bed of his truck in the shade of a lake you’ve stopped at for the afternoon. but he surprises you with your favourite junk food and snacks. he lets you borrow his cap if the sun is in your eyes; he’s got a spare, more threadbare one in the glove box. he’s low key done the research on the best places for stargazing; you lie back nestled together under a blanket, in the bed of his truck, gazing upwards; you listen as he describes the constellations, tracing them out with his finger.

max phillips. business road trips but max’s...condition necessitates driving at night only. liminal spaces. driving through the night, sleeping in business hotel rooms during the day, dust motes floating in the thin streams of sunlight peeking through the cracks in the curtains you’ve pulled shut. you see incredible sunsets and sunrises from the highway. you also see some undeniably weird shit late at night on road trips with max. he watches you eat breakfast food at 2 am in neon lit 24/7 diners. while on the road he passes you lots of candy throughout the night; he stocks up from the hotel vending machines. but no matter how much caffeine and sugar he tries to fuel you with, sometimes you’re lulled to sleep by the peacefulness. you nestle your head against max’s shoulder; it’s not the most comfortable position to drive in but he can’t bring himself to readjust and shift away from you. solitary brightly lit gas stations that are like an oasis of light breaking the pitch darkness. the two of you feel utterly alone sometimes; the world has shrunk down to only you, max, in this car, driving along this empty, dark stretch of road, a blush of purple on the edge of the horizon signalling the dawn.

based on how oberyn canonically took his daughters to explore an abandoned holdfast, i think his road trip energy would be all about the journey and not the destination. road trips with oberyn and ellaria would be meandering and adventurous. sometimes you’re riding shotgun and sometimes you’re sitting in the backseat with ellaria laid out and napping beside you, sun hat dipped down covering her eyes, her long legs stretched across your lap. if the three of you come across a motel you enjoy he’ll feel no urgency to leave; the days blur together and soon you’ve spent a week soaking up sun by the pool and sleeping in late entangled together in a pile of limbs after long passionate nights. day by day you may not even travel very far; he wants to stop and explore. hike amidst rock formations, swim in hot springs, explore the local museums; whatever catches his or your fancy. if he sees a billboard on the side of the road advertising local caves, or a petrified forest, or hears rumour of nearby ghost town that’s all but disappeared off the map, you’ll suddenly find yourselves veering off down small country roads, hours from the highway, seeking out pleasure, adventure, mystery. 

marcus has a hilton rewards card so you’re staying at hilton garden inns every night. clean sheets. comfortable beds. complimentary breakfast. it’s very pleasant. middle class fancy. holds out his hand for you to drop some snacks into his palm so he can remain focused on the road while you’re both munching. let’s you curate the spotify playlists.

roadtrips with javier are always last minute decisions to just take off, head to a gorgeous but isolated beach you’d heard about that’s a few days from here. he doesn’t get many opportunities for long stretches of time off, so when he does you don’t hesitate. you might not even wait for a rational time to leave. it’s midnight and you guys just speed off into the darkness. you just threw some essentials into a bag, jumped in his jeep, and booked it. you gotta buy toothpaste and toothbrushes at a gas station, and you borrow javi’s deodorant stick because you forgot yours. greasy fast food containers, half-empty cigarette packs, and snack wrappers litter the dashboard. his aviators perched on his nose, one hand resting on the wheel, the other curled around your thigh, javi on a road trip is relaxed. he’s leaving all his burdens, his worries, everything weighing on his chest, all of it, behind him. literally, the more distance you guys put between yourselves and where you were, the more uplifted his spirits. when your favourite song comes on the radio, and you’re shimmying in your seat, he can’t keep his eyes off you, his gaze flicking between you and the road. he sings along under his breath, bobbing his head almost imperceptibly and tapping his fingers on the steering wheel, a slow smile spreading across his face.

whiskey pulls up to your house at 5 am on the dot, the obnoxious custom sound of the horn of his bronco rattling the windows and scaring the birds out of the trees lining the street. country music jams ONLY. you argue over his taste in music; does he enjoy being a walking cliche? he will not accept any song that doesn’t have a twang to it. he’d be an aux cord hog if he knew what an aux cord even was. so much for your favourite spotify road trip playlists. “spot fly? spot what fly, where?” still has mixtapes he made himself, the same ones he’s been playing since forever. forces you listen to all his favourite songs, the ones he knows all the words to, while he obnoxiously sings along and ignores your eye-rolling. but he doesn’t ignore how your feet start tapping absentmindedly to toby keith’s ‘whiskey girl’. the corner of his mouth quirks up in a smirk that quickly becomes a broad grin as he reaches over to smack your thigh, laughing he’ll make a country girl of you yet. startled out of your daze, you vehemently deny you weren’t enjoying the song, he doesn’t know what the fuck he’s talking about. he insists he knows the best places to stop, which means you always end up driving far off the highway to some little mom and pop diner that has killer apple pie for lunch. in the evenings you always end up in some honky-tonk bar that’s joined to a motel and yes, there’s line dancing, and yes he manages to twist your arm and convince you to join in. 

ezra…..as a man who’s floated from planet to planet, following jobs and leads, for the better part of his life, he’s found himself smooth-talking his way into being a lot of people’s unexpected travel companion out of necessity over the years. road trip ezra is on the run from someone or something; maybe the law, maybe not. all you know is this beautiful, mysterious stranger you met under dubious circumstances somehow, with his roguish grin and drawling accent, his kind eyes and eloquence, convinced you to let him ride along with you. you ran into him in the grungy diner attached to an even grungier motel in some desolate nowhere town. you recognized him; he’s unmistakably the lone figure on the side of the dusty road, his thumb stuck out, that you drove past yesterday. you’d driven past but that blonde streak had been unmissable and you won’t admit it but you’d felt his gaze on you long after you’d left him in the dust. ezra’s endless chatter on the road isn’t unwelcome; he knows seemingly innumerable facts about local folklore, flora, and fauna, and he never seems to be depleted of stories. you’d made the conscious and contrary decision to make this cross-country road trip alone, rebelling against a lot of cautionary advice, but somewhere along the way loneliness had creeped in under your skin and settled there. this handsome stranger may have an edge of danger to him but later when he’s bringing you to heights of ecstasy in a motel room you won’t give a damn.

maxwell lord flies everywhere in a private jet. the worst.

din djarin’s entire life is basically one long never-ending road trip. but in space. i figure earth-bound din on a conventional road trip would basically be how we see him: no nonsense. no frivolities. no music; travels in total silence. gets where he needs to go. stops for soup, as needed. stops for repairs, as needed. stops to work an odd job with some really sketchy people for some gas money, as needed. din’s road trip energy would be like that john mulaney joke. you’d see the mcdonalds sign lit up and shining in the distance and plead for him to stop so he’d pull into the drive-thru, order one black coffee and keep driving. except if you’ve got the baby with you; he gets a chicken nugget happy meal for the kid. he’s a good papa! and of course you’d get whatever you wanted too, he provides and cares for his loved ones after all.

SEND ME ANY QUESTIONS/HC PROMPTS/REQUESTS YOU HAVE

[at-sarvival]

maeve + monty, matthias + jasper, lynn + harper, mel + raven, callen + kane, weslyn + jaha, maeve + raven, mel + bellamy, rena + lexa

send me an ask with one of my ocs + a canon character and i'll tell you if they would work together as a couple/if i would ship them or in general what kind of relationship i see them having.

01.   maeve  +  monty

while maeve can be conforntational at times and protective,    she would only want to learn some things to fight to protect those she cares and herself.       but other than that i don’t think she’d be focused too much in the fight.    and would find other ways to try to help.    actually the more i think about it they more i think they would work together.     or be really good friends throughout the seasons.  maeve is more outspoken but she can also be a really good listener & that can balance things out with monty who keeps to himself a lot but he also needs to express his frustrations because he carries a lot.    &  i think that with monty,  maeve would let herself heal more.   they’d obviously each be on their own journey but support each other through it.

02.   matthias  +  jasper

first of all,  it’s in my bio for him that matthias helped took care of jasper,    especially when clarke was out of camp / was looking for the sea weed.     so there’s already a first interaction there.    &  i think in a post season two setting matthias would try to reach out to him because he’s been struggling with his mental health a large part of his life & on his own, so that would push him to be there for jasper beyond his instincts of taking care of others.   i don’t know if they could have developed into a relationship, or a healthy one not only because of those issues but because i think that jasper was still struggling with his love for maya but matthias would at the very least try to be a good friend.

03.   lynn  +  harper

i do think lynn would be drawn in to harper even from the beginning.     there’s a subtle confidence to harper,   knowing who she is and what she wants while lynn is greatly unsure of themselves and who they are beause of their upbringing.     harper can also be kind and comforting and uplifting while being so damn strong at the same time and lynn needs that after spending so much time in fear.      they’re more stoic than harper and distant at first,   but the more they allow themselves to open up and actually exists,     they can be sweet and caring to those close to them.       i would really like them together actually.    &  there could be a beautiful parallel in s4 when harper is doubting herself & the world of    ‘  you helped me discover myself, now let me help you find yourself and your puprose again.  ’

04.   mel  +  raven

okay look,   the majority of my muses like raven.   am i biased ?  nooo.  a little but-    mel in general gravitates towards the delinquents  &  wants to help any way she can.     she’s stubborn so she wouldn’t easily be phased by raven trying to push her away or when she shuts down.     but she also keeps a lot to herself,  so she wouldn’t tell raven how to handle thing.     she can also understand partially her grief with finn,   because she also had a strong connection with sterling growing up.     mostly mel would be around raven,  slowly, gradually,  because she has lost all ties with people she was close with.    i could def see something blossoming post s2.    i think it could work a friends to lovers situation for them.    also them lowkey b.itching abt a.bby together

05.   callen  +  kane

callen and kane on the ark would not get along at all.    cal is far too compassionate to be able to even understand kane on the ark.     however,,, moving on in the series like at least post s2,  something could happen between them.    they can be bearded dads of the hundred ablfruwfgwrl

06.   weslyn  +  jaha

to be honest,    weslyn thinks low of the council.    she was raised in factory.    she experienced the treatement first hand & while jaha obviously wouldn’t be the chancellor then,   she can not sympathize really with the council.     truthfully,   she used her liking of exercising to take advantage in a way of the system and climb up the ladder & in her attempt ending up being apart of it but that’s a meta for another day.    but yeah she would not get along with jaha,   especially in s3 wise when he’s promising everyone an easy way out of pain.

07.   maeve  +  raven

maeve is pure devotion to those close to her.     regardless if they’re in a fight or have grown apart,   she still cares a lot about them.     &  i do think raven not only wants but searches for loyalty and devotion with her relationships.       maeve also can very easily call out someone bullshit’s when they’re stepping off a line,   so it’d be v interesting to see them interacting.   so when raven is being too stubborn for her own good,    maeve would try to reign her in.       but she can also be really patient & a good listener so she could be there for raven when she needs to let out her frustrations.     

08.   mel  +  bellamy

well,   there’s definetely an opening of them interacting not only because he saved her but because they along with a couple more delinquents are all that’s left of factory station.    & there’s already a foundation of trust from her part at least because of what happened.     moreover,     while generally she’s not that outspoken,    she can be a lil shit and sassy and form some kind of banter with him.     idk if they would have worked in the long run,   but i could see a fwb kind of situation for a distraction, because there is some familiarity, and that later dissolves into a friendship.       i also think i saw somewhere but don’t take my word for it that she was supposed to be a li for him but t.anaya had scheduling problems,  so i’m kind of eyeing if they had originally in mind what later turned out to be g.ina/b.ell but with a few more interactions in s2 ?

09.   rena  +  lexa

lil info:  rena grew up wanted to be a strategist, a diplomat and to represent her clan not in the battle field as much but as an ambassador in polis. she did not, but she'd studied enough battles to play a part in training her village's children and advising the general of her village even if queen nia's orders were always the defining directions. s4 is an arc i’m still contemplating about, where she could have a more prominent role.

now, on a slight au where she does end up as an ambassador in polis i could see it happen. as it seemed lexa only holds nia responsible for costia's death so there wouldn't be a problem on that part. obviously there would be the trikru / azgeda tension but at the end i don't think it would be a defining factor. i think they'd work, i can not speak sm of lexa but rena would definitely be interested in the commander.

[blissfulalchemist]

"wind chimes" + dealer's choice!

Dealer’s choice said that this would relate to Hypatia’s story just from a different perspective. I wanted to write a little more Conner I’m sorry. I hope you enjoy!

The elevator doors open before him, eyes scanning for the placement of the cameras in the building. Blind spot still where it always is, first corner on the left wall and Conner makes a brief stop looking down to the simple cord bracelet it's only embellishments four small periwinkle blue stones, angelite. The magic still reads strong but he’ll have to find the materials to strengthen it soon, I should ask Abe to send what I need on a subscription, he thinks letting out a breath, continuing down the hall. He hated playing babysitter to Tia despite it being the best thing for his mission, hated having to keep everything hidden away, how much easier it would be if he could just tell her. Mostly he hated being this close to people that would sooner see him and those like him gone from the world. They’d never do it themselves though, but they wouldn’t be first in line to help if you were in trouble. A debt was a debt though and Conner would pay it. Zmey only sent Conner here because he was so good at following the rules and keeping his head down. Pristine Alchemist behavior.

Fifth door on the right, glass panel in the off white door, a doorstop keeping it open two inches exactly. He saw her, dark hair with the fading purple and green highlights pulled up into a ponytail, hunched over the table mumbling what he knew to be Greek, the power radiating off of her. Of course Conner would find Tia here, right in what she dubbed the “witchatorium”, avoiding the combat training. Conner slipped in quietly as to not break her concentration, looking over the ingredients and book in front of her, Impressive, she’s making her way up in difficulty. He gave a small smile, crossing his arms and clearing his throat. She didn’t look up at him, but the chanting was coming to an end, “I told you already I’m not making you a potion to get a date, Conner.”

Conner rolled his eyes, “I get plenty of dates, Caro,” he lied, “Just went on one the other day.”

“Spending an extra five minutes ordering at the coffee shop doesn’t count as a date,” she smirked, amused eyes glancing up to him briefly, “Was she cute at least?”

“Who?” Conner walked closer to the table, looking over at what she was channeling her energy into, Spell needs two people ideally, bold of you to try it on your own, he thought having seen his mother perform it once before. 

“You’re date dummy,” Tia couldn’t roll her eyes but Conner could tell it was there, “Was she cute?”

Conner gave a shrug, “She was,” he saw her eyebrow raise in a small nod of acknowledgement, “Not that it should matter to you.” Tia started to repeat the Greek incantation louder this time around, Conner mumbling behind her the magic flowing easily and weaving nondescript with hers. He nudged the next item she needed, a piece of petrified wood from Lesbos, within reach of her. Her eyes focused intently on the gold ring bringing the wood next to it along with a small piece of white quartz, Conner looking for the chimes she would be hitting soon. He let out a breath through his nose seeing it on a shelf just to the right of him, This is why we read through all the instructions Tia. He glanced once more seeing her gaze fixated on the items in front of her, his hand reached up to the small wind chime waiting to hear the right words. 

She started on the fifth line of the incantation, Conner letting his fingers drift through the chimes, their music filling his ears as the melody matched the beat of Tia’s spoken words. The spell was used for protection against curses and hexes, the music of the chimes meant to be uplifting to aid in dispelling the negativity that was brought along. Two people were meant to cast it as one was to help in fending off the gods, the original bringers of curses. Each little component tied to a meaning dating back thousands of years….and looking at the chime he just played it wasn’t the right kind with the right notes. It would work in a pinch sure but the spell wasn’t going to be at full power once all was said and done. 

He suppressed a groan as he grabbed hold of the chimes, the melody stopping abruptly. Conner flinched at the sudden silence, the spell was already screwed up and he just finalized it. He shut his eyes tightly waiting for the tilting feeling that came from a complex spell going wrong, the one Tia didn’t notice as she continued. The feeling never came though, met with just the fading and faint sounds of a wind chime blowing in a summer breeze. Conner slowly opened his eyes, seeing the soft golden light surrounding her. He’d never seen anything like it around another magic user, as he took a step closer the chimes got louder, their sounds muffled and feeling like a softly blurred memory. He listened closer, tuning out her words, the notes playing correctly, but unable to focus on the shape of the wind chime, just a feeling, like it was the right one, the one that was needed for this ritual. 

His breath caught as he admired her, the golden ring around her emphasizing her facial features, soft and full of laughter. The way her eyes turned to a bronze in the sunlight, how her smile brightened in its harshness, dark hair flowing behind her, the laughter….oh the laughter that harmonized with the world and echoed in the vast emptiness of the desert. It was her world and her memories that brought about the music, her happiness personified. He wanted to join her, partake in what she was showing him, his hand reaching out to touch her, falling short as he felt the magic start to dim and recede. Tia finished off the last few steps, her breathing slightly labored as she looked up giving a smile before collapsing to the ground. 

He moved to grab her, stopping her head from making contact with the ground. Her skin glistening with sweat, face having gone pale, Conner reached into the small fridge just below the work station. He pulled out the bottle of fruit punch, she hated the taste of orange juice, moving her to sit up more, the open bottle brought to her lips. Tia took a few sips on instinct before she took hold of the bottle, the contents gone in seconds. The color returned to her face as she moved to grab another bottle, this one disappearing slower. She beamed looking at Conner, “How did it feel getting to second base with a scary and evil witch?” She held her fingers up as if they were claws, Conner rolling his eyes. 

“Glad to see you’re back to normal,” he stood half heartedly making the Alchemist sign against evil on his arm, “Were you successful in your endeavors?”

Tia’s eyes lit up as she stood quickly grabbing the gold ring, smile turning to a frown as she studied the ring. “Sort of I guess,” she sighed, “It’s not as powerful as it could be,” Surprised there’s any power in it at all. She looked back over the instructions, “I wonder where I went wrong.” Conner made a show of reading over her shoulder, her eyes catching him, “You know Greek better than me, right Khaki Pants?”

He opened to protest the nickname, looking down at the wardrobe choice for the day, khakis. “I may,” he leaned back crossing his arms, catching the small camera in the upper right corner, In their line of sight now, “Don’t think it’s a good idea for me to be translating spells that are for frivolous purposes though.”

“Oh come on,” she pleaded, her eyes sparkling, “It’s just one little spell. What’s the harm in that?”

“A lot,” he stated, “It’s bad enough we talk the way we do Caro.”

She rolled her eyes, “Ugh what is with you people?! Nothing more than a bunch of stiffs with backwards beliefs.”

“You’re the one that has something wrong with them,” he spat, the role he played coming back up. The rhetoric he repeated came out with such ease, Conner no longer flinched or gave much thought to it all anymore, “You’ve tainted your soul with this darkness. Might as well have joined the undead.”

Tia’s eyes narrowed, “I know you know that’s not true,” she stepped closer to him, finger soon touching his chest, “that you don’t even believe what they say.” His heart picked up its pace as he backed up out of sight of the camera, “You’re friendlier than the others Conner no matter how much you try to keep up the facade of not caring. Of hating me.”

He stumbled on his words for a second as he looked for the best way to change the subject. “We have to focus on the task at hand,” Conner finally said as she pressed him against a shelf the glass jars clinking, “Working with you and your dark magic is just a necessary evil, much like working with those evil creatures of the night.”

Her eyes, green under the fluorescents, flashed with her pain from his words, Conner’s heart falling, Please don’t cry Tia. I wish I could tell you how much I hate hurting you, “So that’s how it is,” she nodded her jaw tightening, sucking her teeth and stepping back, “Cool. Nice to know.”

“Caro,” he whispered, shaking his head, “it’s-. It’s just how it is. It’s the rules.”

Tia gave a snort, “Always the rules with you.” She looked down shaking her head, “So it’s the rules that say you have to just be an asshole then.” Conner swallowed, straightening himself out, shoulders rolling back, Tia flipped her hair back behind her shoulder, “So what did you come down here for if not to fraternize with the tainted.”

“You missed training,” he said flatly, “I was sent to bring you.”

She bit the inside of her lip, picking up the ring, “Bet they’re still waiting then.” 

Tia made her way to the door, Conner close behind, “You’ll need to change.”

“No thank you,” she grumbled, pushing on the button of the elevator, “They want to train me to fight, I’m gonna do it in the clothing I’d be wearing in a real life situation.” 

“It’s regulation to wear the clothing they’ve provided,” he argued, the door opening, “Besides your clothing is impractical as it is.” They both looked down to her cutoff jean shorts, dark purple tank top, and black Doc Martens, “You wouldn’t be wearing that once you’re in the field.”

“I’m not wearing khaki,” she retorted leaning against the wall, arms crossed, “Doesn’t work with my complexion.” He looked straight ahead giving a quick smirk, “Doesn’t work really well with yours either.”

“Thankfully this is just work wear, Caro,” the elevator dinged, doors opening once more, “I have more colors at home.”

Her eyes went wide, “Bullshit,” she laughed, “I don’t believe you for one second.”

“It’s true,” he shrugged, holding the door open for Tia, “Just never saw me outside of here.”

“See now you gotta take me out so I can,” her smile returned in full force, dimming once seeing Conner’s face, “Let me guess, it’s against the rules.” He nodded, Tia letting out a small groan, “Well guess I gotta find paint swatches and hold them up until I find the colors that work best for you.” He rolled his eyes, half listening to her ramblings as they made their way down to the training center, Tia stopping just outside the door, “Is it sunny outside today?” He nodded, giving a slight tilt to his head, “You think they’ll let me train outside today if I ask nicely?” 

No, they would all claim it was too dangerous, too much of a risk. They couldn’t risk you running away on them. You’re too valuable to them, “Since when do you ask nicely?”

She gave a light punch to his arm, “I can be nice.” Tia looked up to the ceiling, “I just miss the feeling of the sun on my skin is all,” her eyes met Conner’s giving a small smile, “Rules are rules though right?” With that she gave a shrug leaving Conner standing alone in the hallway. He looked around the basement level frowning. I can think of one excuse that might work, he thought, making his way back to the elevator, Could make up for today if I can pull it off.

[thisonesforfanfic]

Light in the Dark (5/?)

Bucky x Reader

A/N: Still not sure if I have to put any warnings, please tell me if you think any are needed :)

Summary: The boys come back from the war for a while, and Bucky takes you on a date

Word Count: 2.3 k

You were eager to see them again. Steve and Bucky had been gone for a while now, and you missed them like crazy. Yeah, sure, it's not like you knew them your whole life, but they had been so good to you ever since the moment you met them, ever since their last visit, you'd get at least a telegram or letter a week from them, always checking on you or secretly letting you know if they weren't going to be able to send anything for a while. And at those moments, your heart ached, though you tried to send them cheerful and happy letters back, everytime.

You could feel your heart pounding on your throat as the train arrived at the station, your glance running through every single window, looking for a sign of the men's blue eyes. 

"Y/N!" Your eyes filled with tears of joy as you saw Bucky and Steve rushing towards you

"Thank God!" you let out with relief, jumping into Bucky's open arms. He spins you around in joy, finally listening to your sweet laugh again

"I missed you so much doll" he put you down and hugged you tight, burrying his face on your shoulder, breathing in your scent

"Me too, Bucky" you pulled away to embrace Steve "And you too Steve!" your cheeks were hurting as you couldn't stop smiling from ear to ear "I actually can't believe my eyes right now"

"Well, you should" Steve chuckled "Because someone couldn't shut up about that reward you promised for the whole trip, right Buck?"

"Shut up, punk" You let go of Steve to see the red taking over Bucky's cheeks, letting a loud laugh escape through the smile

"No, no, please, tell me about the supposedly heroic act!" you were practically skipping in place with your hands joined together, jokingly pleading to Steve

"Best thing I can remember is him not hitting on any nurses" Bucky sent him a bothered look

"Punk" He let out under his breath, then turned to you "Doesn't 'going to war' count in on itself?"  

"You remember I said 'maybe', right James?" His eyebrows frowned as if he was a puppy that had just fallen of a moving car "What kind of girl do you take me for?" you put your hands on your waist. Bucky's whole face was bright red, and you bursted into laughter 

"Haha" Bucky took a minute to get your joking manner, and it made the situation even funnier for you and Steve, who could barely breath

"You'll have to at least buy me a drink first" you winked

"Let's go, pair of clowns" shaking his head, he started walking away with his bag, while Steve put his arms around your shoulder as you followed Bucky. 

Steve stayed by your side, and Bucky was a few steps ahead, but still listening to Steve as he told you about their missions. As you got to your apartment, Bucky finally faced you, with a serious expression

"I'll be here at seven" then, he turned away

"What bit him on the way back?" you looked up at Steve to see him shrugging his shoulders

"I guess you'll find out at seven" once your door was unlocked, he then held you again for a moment "See you tomorrow doll?"

"I will need help from someone who doesn't get drunk" Steve shook his head with a chuckle

"Alright then... Had I known I would become a sitter everytime we go to a bar, I would've had second thoughts about the whole serum experience"

 6:30

Twirling in front of the mirror, you were second guessing the third dress you had tried on before the date. None of them seemed to be the perfect one, and it was getting closer and closer to the hour. Your last hope was the emerald green one, hanging in the back of the closet, you hesitantly grabbed the hanger and took a good look at it. It was off-shoulder, tea-lenght with a pleaded skirt "here goes nothing" you slipped into it and looked in the mirror again.

The green in contrast with your skin was gorgeous, you couldn't even believe your eyes. It was perfect, you didn't remember it fitting you so flawlessly, the stripes hanging just below the shoulder, your hips comfortably fitted, and the flowing skirt beneath it. You didn't put much make up on, and pulled part of your hair back on a neat half bun at the back of your head

Almost instantly after you finished getting ready, you heard the door and ran downstairs. You opened it to see an extremely well dressed Bucky, on an Oxford blue suit, holding a bouquet of pink heather flowers on his hands. You thanked yourself for not putting any rouge on, since your cheeks were naturally blushed with the sight of him

"You're early" Smiling at him   

"And you are stunning" he handed you the flowers with a wink. You forgot you had told him about them. Heather flowers were your favourite, small and with a sutil, soothing scent. "Shall we go, doll?" he offered his hand for you to hold

"Let me just put these in water, come on in for a second" climbing up the steps with Bucky right behind you "So... What are we doing tonight?" the only sound was the tap running as you filled a vase with water. You started wondering if you said something that bothered him "You know... you were acting so strange on the way back from the station, did I say-"

"It's a surprise doll" He cut you off before you could start blaming yourself for the jokes you had made, with a smirk on his face "Now, can we go?"

You looped your arm on his as he lead you through the streets, guiding you to the carnival. 

"Really? I didn't take you for a man who liked these" you looked at Bucky with one eyebrow arched, he shrugged as he glanced at the booths "Bet you never won a thing for any of the ladies you brought here" you laughed as his arms tensed when you mentioned other girls

"Don't worry James" you were a proud smile on your face as you walked to a booth "I'll win you one"

"There's no way, this whole thing is rigged" he said as he stopped you from reaching into your purse "And also, you are not spending a cent tonight" paying the man himself, then handing you three tiny sandbags

"Watch and learn, Barnes" the cans all fell on the first strike, along with Bucky's jaw "Which one do you want, doll?" smirking shamelessly

He was laughing, still in disbelief as you handed him the stuffed bear with a bright red bow.

"I can't believe you did that" he put his arm around your shoulder pulling you closer as you walked through the carnival

You played some more, laughing with eachother and rode the carrousel before leaving to get some dinner. After that, you headed back to your bar, it was meant to be closed today, so it was just you and Bucky. 

You sat side by side at the counter, pouring out of a special whisky bottle into two glasses, you caught Bucky's stare "what?" you asked while closing the bottle

"I love you" his words left his mouth before he could stop them, fear immediatly showing through his eyes "I mean- I-" before he could continue, you put your hands on his face, pulling him closer, and let your lips clash onto his.

He was hesitant for a second, then realizing what was happening, Bucky held you closer by the waist, the warmth and sweetness of your lips dominated him, he kissed you back passionately, his tongue taking control of yours before you pulled away to catch your breath. Resting your forehead on his, you stared into his eyes, he was confused, waiting for a verbal response

You were lost for words, you loved that man, Bucky was everything you wanted, but you were afraid, you didn't know what to say, how to say it. He pulled back to look at you properly

"Y/N, I didn't mean to startle you" he began, scratching the back of his head "I have never felt this way before... That is, you are different- special"

"You don't know what you are talking about James" you were shocked by the fact he wanted you "You can have any girl you want, why me?" you took a gulp of the whisky and then he smiled

"That's why" you looked down at your glass and then back at him, with one eyebrow arched

"Because I give you good scotch?" he chuckled at your disbelief

"Because you are confident, proud of who you are, as smart as they come" you blushed at his speech "extremely beautiful, knows how to throw a punch, independent... But, most of all-" he let his face get closer to yours "you are one of the most uplifting spirits I have ever met. And no one, not even Steve, can make me laugh like you can"

"Bucky, I-" you looked down, avoiding his eyes as you felt your face burning

"The way my name sounds in your voice, how you are always willing to help anyone in need, the way you drink like a sailor" he chuckled as you put your glass down, feeling a little embarassed "I can list everything that's great abut you all night. You are everything I want Y/N.... Give me a chance"

"I don't know what to say, I.." you finally looked up at him, with hope and fear mixed in his eyes "Bucky, I wanted you ever since that first night" he lit up "I was kind of trying to get rid of you when I asked you to help me, I'd never thought you would actually help. I knew right at that moment the man you were, and..." You paused, sipping on the glass while trying to find the words, Bucky rested his hands on your knees "What I'm trying to say is... I think your are special to me too"

"Is that all?" He taunted you, raising an eyebrow "I feel like that kiss had a little more than just 'you're special"

"I can't really think straight when all my blood is flowing to my face" you shrugged with a smile "I don't think I can put in words everything I feel for you" you could feel the tears coming "You helped me in one of the most difficult moments in my life, and I don't think I can ever repay you- You are all I want"

He couldn't hold back any longer, as he saw the tears trying  to escape from your eyes, Bucky leaned in, letting lips brush yours softly, just long enough to soothe you, slowly his lips travel through your skin, until he found your neck. The nibbling on your skin made a quiet moan leave your mouth, and you let your hand travel over his suit, desperate to feel more of him.

"We should go" your voice was breathy, Bucky's eyes were immeadiatly on yours

"Did I- do something wrong?" he sounded worried, afraid he had crossed a line, moving too far

"No, I mean-" you handed him the glasses and grabbed the bottle, getting up and heading for the door "We should go" turning to him and pointing at the celing. Your apartment

Quiclky locking the entrance and practically running to your door, Bucky's hands were on you again before you could finish turning the lock on the inside. You wrap yourself around him as he lifted you up, heading up the stairs, this time, your face burried on his neck, kissing every inch of it, making your way up to his ear, letting your tongue trace it carefully before whispering

"I love you too, Bucky"

He put you down for a second when you reached the living room, putting the glasses and bottle on the table. Bucky stood there watching you bite your lower lip, curious to know what his next move was going to be.

He took a deep breath, and wrapped his arms around you. No kiss, just his lustful glance locked on yours.  

"I don't want you to regret this, doll" he paused, looking for any signs of hesitation

"I won't James" your lips softly toched his "I want you, I've wanted you for quite a while now... The only thing I could ever regret is letting this moment go to waste" his smile widened, then kissed you softly, the slow movements picking up the pace as the kiss grew more passionate and more heated. 

Leading him to your bedroom, not letting your lips part, you let him have all of you. That night, you were his, and he was finally yours.

 In the morning, none of you dared to move, you rested your head on Bucky's bare chest, listening to his heartbeat, while he stroked your hair gently. Comfort you both had been aching for, finally fulfilled.

About half an hour of serene silence, Bucky asked if you wanted to eat something, offering to make breakfast

"Well aren't you a keeper, James" he groaned at his name, making you giggle "If you make me breakfast every day, I may start using 'Bucky' more often"

"You seemed quite comfortable saying it again and again last night" he scoffed "And also, what kind of man do you take me for?" mimicking the face you had made yesterday

"In that case" you jumped off the bed, grabbing a ring from your nightstand and getting down on one knee "James Buchanan Bucky Barnes, will you do me the honor of making me breakfast everyday" barely holding back the laughter beneath your smile

"No way! That'd be my question to ask" he sat on the bed, crossing his arms and frowning. You stood up chuckling and sat on his lap, your arms wrapping around his neck

"I'm pretty sure you lost that spot when I was the one to win you that teddy bear" your smirk was interrupted by Bucky's lips, roughly pressing against yours

"Then I'll get it back, right now" his whisper against your lips was followed by him grabbing and throwing you back in bed, his body hovering over yours

"I suppose breakfast can wait"

########

Thanks for reading!

[noblehigh]

**slams fists down ** five times kissed !!! ( basically make me feel things )

send  five times kissed  for a drabble about five times our muses have kissed.

i. )  there was always a sort of unity when they were in the fireflies. they were a family, to a certain extent, but nothing like how it is here in jackson. it’s truly a  community, full of people who know everyone else, people who keep up with other’s troubles, and do their best to help  ease  those troubles. no one is given too much of a workload, and it’s fairly easy to get time off if you need it. it’s a sense of normalcy, something that’s one in a million. brian’s convinced that there’s no other place like it in the world. though, their world is very small compared to the endless opportunities that could be waiting somewhere else. they don’t know what could be waiting on another continent, if those places were even  effected.  he believes they were ; he believes everywhere is gone, everywhere is bits and pieces, and wherever there are people they’re trying to make due with what they’ve got.

tonight, the community has gathered out in the streets ; fires blazing, music playing. they’ve somehow convinced joel to play a little guitar, but most are amused by the way his brother strums on his own, taunting and joking with him. it’s not that tommy is bad, he’s just  definitely  got his own taste. laughs are shared, children run freely (  brian’s being one of them  ), and he finds himself snuggled back in a corner next to the stairs of the saloon with the one person who’s made this place truly feel like  home:  paul. 

there’s a hot cup of cocoa in his mitten-clad hands, and a gaze that was previously set on all the fuss around him slowly begins to focus on the man next to him. he just  watches.  watches as paul smiles, watching the music play and the children dance ; dina has managed to pull ellie up, and she’s up to her usual antics of putting on a show, this time with her lover. the flicker of the flames near them puts a special kind of sparkle in paul’s eyes, and brian can’t help but  smile. he leans over, presses a lingering kiss to the man’s temple. it’s sweet, soft ; it’s meant to show appreciation, more than anything. appreciation that paul is here, that he’s  alive, and that he’s  with  him. it’s an impulsive move, but at the same time it feels so  natural, like it’s the right thing to do.

ii. )  it didn’t take much convincing to get himself and paul put on a patrol together. maria and tommy are forgiving. they seem to sometimes  exude  love ; this deep care for everyone in the community, no matter the diversity or the situation. they want everyone to be happy, that much seems obvious to brian, and as long as it doesn’t harm anything and they can still get their work done, why  not  have two people who enjoy each other’s company on the same route?

brian has always had a love for horses, and has since gotten his own after being in the community for awhile. whiskey. his pride and joy. a large, brown horse who stands as tall as the highest building, with the elegance of a fine ensemble. he’s beauty, he’s  grace  --  he might just  be  mister united states. it’s why he rides him with such  pride. today, he managed to talk paul into just taking one horse ; yes, it’s due in part to him wanting to show off the stud, but also because he wanted to be  closer  to his favorite jackson patrol member. he follows along the muddy trail, sat high, hands loosely gripping the reigns as whiskey trots along through the tall grass. brian’s head turns to the side to glance over his shoulder, halfway keeping his gaze on the trail before them as he speaks to the other man,  ❛  -- i’ve always had a soft spot for animals, y’know?  ❜  oh, really?  ❛  yeah.. -- before all of this, we had a rottweiler named jackie -- she was badass. i had a horse for awhile, too-- and a  snake. i think, out of all of ‘em that the snake probably made it out.. maybe he got to live a long life. i don’t know how well they don’t out of captivity once they’ve been in it, though..  ❜  probably not  well. he turns his head back to the front, chuckles before adding,  ❛  -- his name was steve-o... y’know.. like that guy from  jackass? he was still little when everythin’ went to shit, only about two years old. he was a ball python, they’re great for p-- ❜  it’s when he glances back that he cuts himself off because, well.. quite frankly, he can see the way paul is looking at him. he’s looking at him like he’s the biggest  dork  on the planet. but that’s the thing with brian: you get him started on a subject he likes, something he’s  passionate  about, and he could talk for hours.

❛  -- what?  ❜  oh, nothing..  ❛  i’m ramblin’, aren’t i?  ❜  he gets a chuckle in response, no words, but a kiss to the corner of his mouth pairs with it. he’ll take it. smiling wide, he takes one of his hands off the reigns to reach back, giving paul a pat on his thigh. ❛  you’re by far my  favorite  person to run patrol with, you know that?  ❜

iii. )   ❛  ohhhh, c’mere, munchkin--  ❜  he drawls out, bending down to pick up his son from where he sits in the living room in front of paul. he’s got all of his legos out, and it’s no doubt going to be a  task  to clean them all up.  i don’t wanna!  ❛  well, i know you don’t  wanna, but you  gotta  go to bed. you know why?  ❜  the child shakes his head, looking rather bashful, and still rather  skeptical ; bedtime just doesn’t seem like it should be such a necessity... especially when you’re having so much fun!  ❛  ‘cause you gotta get big ‘n strong. and if you get a good sleep, maybe we can get up early and go play in the snow with dina tomorrow, huh?  ❜  that seems enough to persuade him. the boy smiles, nods his head quickly.  ❛  all right, then,  ❜  brian agrees, and he turns to look at paul before heading for the stairs,  ❛  i’ll be right back.  ❜

when he comes back down from putting oliver to bed, he notices the smile on paul’s lips. he’s intrigued, shown by the smirk that’s tugging at the corner of his mouth. ❛  -- and what are you smilin’ about?  ❜ he inquires as he heads over to the fridge to pull out two beers ; he then moseys on back over to where the other man sits, taking a seat next to him.  you’re a good dad, you know.  not even a question, a  statement. the once  uplifted  mood the man had has now turned a bit sour, proven in the way he loses eye contact with paul and looks down. he breaks open one of the beers, sliding it over on the coffee table to the other, then opening one for himself. well, he’s got some kind of vice now, so he’s willing to talk about the dirty past  (  as long as he can drown himself in  something  ).  ❛  wasn’t always like that.. -- don’t really know if it even  is  like that,  ❜  he comments, knocking bag a large swig of the amber liquid.  ❛  i wasn’t there like i should’ve been when he was a baby.. when he was  younger. had a lot of.. bad shit goin’ on in my head.  ❜  a multitude of things, but, mainly, a nasty drug habit. ❛  i’d probably still be just as shitty if the infected hadn’t started eatin’ everyone.  ❜  hey--  paul seems quick to cut off the harsh criticism of himself, and it’s probably best that way. if he lets it go, brian could easily spiral into spilling all the things he finds wrong with himself, and that would just ruin the mood of the night. he’s never been his biggest fan, and that’s one thing the end of the world  couldn’t  change.

a kiss to his shoulder is what finally makes him look back over, and he winds up resting his forehead against the other man’s, eyes slowly falling shut.  you can’t change the past.  he’s right, of course.  ❛  -- is there ever a time that you ain’t up to par on everythin’?  ❜  he swears, there’s never a time that paul  isn’t  right. still, it’s said with good intention, and it’s clear paul has lightened his mood a bit just by the faint smile on brian’s lips. he tips his chin up, lets their lips meet for a short, sweet kiss.  ❛  stay here tonight.. i don’t want you to go.  ❜

iv. )   ❛  hey!  ❜  it’s the first time he’s felt  frustration  towards the man, and he definitely isn’t scared to  show it.  paul begins to head towards the exit of their stationed patrol at the sound of a  shrilling  scream (  one asking for help, no less ), stating he’s going to go check it out.  ❛  -- we can’t just go out there like it’s nothin’, you don’t know what’s out there!  ❜  someone could be hurt, brian, you heard that. it was a call for help.  ❛  it’s outside of our zone--  ❜  brian. he’s right-- fuck, he  knows  he’s right, and it’s not like brian to be wary of going outside of zones or to even be wary of going and helping someone. he’s usually the first to jump to it, but there’s been more raiders around than usual lately, and he fears this one might be a trap. 

why are you fighting me on this?  because he’s  scared. he could give a  shit  about himself, but if something happened to  paul?  that’s something he’d never be able to forgive himself for. leaving the fireflies, all the damage and death that followed, including the death of  joel -- those are things he can find the time to push away, or find the time to get over  (  even if it comes back to haunt him every so often  ).  the more time he and paul spend together, the more he finds himself becoming  attached ; he’d be terrified to even think of it, the word  (  love  ), but he fears he’s edging closer and closer to it becoming his truth.  ❛  i’m sorry--  ❜  it’s a rarity for him to apologize, to admit he’s  wrong, but he  is. it’s out of character for him, and paul has to have noticed that, as well. he lets out a sigh, steps over to reach for his backpack that’s rested on an office chair, and he makes his way to where the other man stands. 

he fights with himself on what to say. he fights admitting that he doesn’t want anything to happen to him, that he doesn’t know what he’d do with himself if something did, that he’s increasingly becoming  scared  whenever they go out because of the countless possibility of  bad shit  that could happen to him. instead, he takes his hand, presses a lingering kiss to his forehead, and gives his hand a tight squeeze. he hopes he knows what it means without having to say it.  (  i want you safe, i want you with me when we get back to jackson. )  ❛  let’s go check it out, but let’s be smart about it.  ❜  always.

v. )  he would fight an army of infected, he would leap  bounds, if it all meant that he could savor in even  one  of these moments. he hangs onto these tightly, close to his heart. they’re both sat on paul’s bed having come back from a long patrol, the weight of his backpack finally falling as dead-weight to the floor. he brings his hand up, rubs at his sore shoulder. he watches paul as he sets his own backpack on the bed, beginning to unpack a few things he needs, and while he does that, brian pulls off his own jacket and his dirty shirt. 

when paul rids himself of his shirt, that’s when brian makes his way over to him. the bruises and scars that pepper the skin of the man he’s grown fond of are reminders of the fight they battle each day, and brian runs his calloused fingers along a few of them. his head dips down, soft kisses being sprinkled along the length of his shoulder to the curvature of his neck. one hand raises, loops a finger in the hair tie that holds the other’s hair, and he tugs until it’s loose and falls, cascading over his shoulders. palms run up and down his arms, squeezing soft at his biceps, and he nuzzles his nose against his jaw.  ❛  you’re so beautiful..  ❜  it’s spoken soft ; no one is around, but he wants to make sure only he can hear it. he wants him to know how  special  he is, because he feels like he doesn’t show it enough, and he definitely doesn’t  say  it enough. index and middle find paul’s jaw, and he turns his head until his entire body follows, and he’s facing brian. a kiss, slow, passionate, and  wanton graces his lips, fingers beginning to thread through the hair at the back of the man’s head.  ❛  you have to know how much you mean to me. i want you to know..  ❜  brian..  ❛  -- just let me love you.. even if it’s just tonight.  ❜

[hookaroo]

Vocivore, Ltd. (32 of 41?)

Also on FFN and AO3 (ListerofTardis)

Tagging @ouatwinterwhump, @killian-whump, @sancocnutclub, @killianjonesownsmyheart1 and @courtorderedcake <3

***THE MOST WONDERFUL COVER ART BY @cocohook38 HERE!!!!!******

***Chapter 12 animation and art that will absolutely astound you!!!!!!!!!**********

***LETHAL Chapter 19 art in all of its BLOODSTAINED GLORY!!!!************

**POOR STABBED KILLIAN falling into the sheriff station! Ch. 7 & 23 art!!**

****KILLIAN AND HIS MASTER IN THE GORGEOUS CATHEDRAL!!!!!!!!!!!!    CHAPTER 1 ART THAT KILLS ME EVERY TIME I SEE IT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!*********

*****AMAZING AND ALSO HEARTBREAKING COVER ART!!!!! MY POOR BOY, HELPLESS AND SCREAMING WHILE HE SLOWLY LOSES HIS GRIP ON REALITY… D: COCOHOOK38 IS TRYING TO KILL US ALL!!!!*************

***AAAAHHHH!!! THANK YOU MY WONDERFUL COCONUT FRIEND!!!!!!***

Two days ago (continued)...

David. Detective Jones.

"Killian?"

His... the Master, watching, listening.

“Killian, it’s me. I’m here.”

His own blade flashing down, plunging into the prince's back, striking off the detective's chest. Smoke and flame, sparks of blue lightning, orders to kill growing stronger, overcoming his battered reason. That was then. Now…

“Can you hear us, Hook?”

Pain, that familiar companion, muted and fuzzy. And words half-remembered, half-commanded. The last thing he wanted to say, obliged.

"I must return."

The grating growl sounded almost as bad as he felt.

"I must return to my Master."

Did the ragged quality of his voice do enough to disguise his utter terror at the very thought? Or did his audience hear lack of conviction? How he would rather perish in that hospital bed than spend one single second more in the Master's presence?

Somehow, Emma managed to keep up a false front, even though she was undoubtedly just as tempted as he was to fling herself at him and express her love after such a long and difficult separation. The story demanded that she turn her questioning to the subject of their supposedly missing daughter. Killian displayed exhaustion and confusion: not much of a stretch, although the drugged haze did not let him forget the fact that they may be under observation. But when Killian reached up toward his throat, he was pleasantly surprised to find the dreadful collar gone. He and Emma could talk freely… if it weren’t for the crowd of onlookers surrounding his bed.

Emma must have shared his urgency to have a real conversation, for she immediately got to work bargaining for time alone with him. Fighting the persistent pull of narcotic slumber, Killian gladly allowed her to handle the details. Bloody hell, the pressure between his ears was intensifying, voices in the room sounding like they were being filtered through stacks of wool. His damaged stump pulsed with pain despite the drugs pumping into him; he vaguely remembered using it in battle and must have reinjured partially healed flesh inside. But the measured tone of Jones' voice alleviated a small amount of guilt: he would be in a hell of a lot of pain for awhile but would evidently make a full recovery.

Killian listened dully to the negotiations taking place. 15 minutes would be pushing things; 10 was nothing. But it might be his only chance, if bloody Whale insisted on more sedation afterward. Gods, that sounded like nirvana. The drugs would hardly even be necessary; Killian felt as if he could sleep for a month, and dammit, he did not have that kind of luxury.

“...Mr. Zombie Universe…”

That about summed it up. No matter that he looked the part; he felt even worse. While he was on some kind of opioid--he knew that for a fact--the simple act of breathing made some hurt or other fire up in a never-ending carousel of complaint. His arms were doing their blasted skittering again, and choking fog kept swirling behind his eyes. Getting up, he could maybe handle. Escape without alarm, doubtful. As for a long trek… back there…

Killian didn’t realize he was panting, tense and desperate, until Emma leaned over and began caressing his face. She placed a light kiss on the tip of his nose, whispering,

“It’s okay; they’re gone… Killian?”

Through the vise constricting inexorably tighter within his throat, Killian whined,

“I have to go back.”

He couldn’t open his eyes. He would see his wife there, fraught with worry and determined to detain him. Not understanding. And he would relent, and they would lose their only advantage, and all would suffer and die and it would be his fault for being a cowardly weakling--

“Killian, no.”

Choking back a sob, he struggled to detach himself from the fear. “My Mas… the… the monster, it… it’s starting to trust me, that’s why it sent me here, as a test, but it… it knows things, Emma, it can sense things and if I don’t return we’ll never have this opportunity again--”

“Rumplestiltskin lied to us.”

Emma’s quiet statement brought him up short, and he could not help opening his eyes then. An icy shiver of dread shot down his spine.

“Hope? Is she...?”

“No, she’s okay.”

He couldn’t even allow the automatic wave of relief, or his Master would feel it. Killian deliberately swung his bandaged stump against the bedrail, cringing as the spike vibrated within his flesh and ground glass pressed against raw nerves.

“Then what?” he growled. Emma blinked, started to reach for the injury, but grabbed his fisted hand instead.

“Your immunity. You were asleep, but they did an MRI, and Whale confirmed: you’re starting to show the same symptoms as all the others, the ones who…”

Who had died. All of them; they’d all died.

But it didn’t matter. If he failed his mission, the whole United Realms--hell, the whole world--would face that same fate.

“Bollocks. Whale is a damn fool; I’m completely fine.”

“I can hear you.”

He stared at her blankly, and she touched his shoulder.

“Did you forget? I’ve been listening.”

Killian swallowed, sickened by the reminder. The last thing he wanted to think about was subjecting his beloved to his torment. “Aye? What of it?”

Her lips tightened, revealing the struggle to contain her emotions. It’s so hard, she seemed to say. I can’t keep listening to you fall. Bleed. Scream. Suffer. “So you win his trust. Then what? You need to tell me that you have a plan. ‘Cuz I’ve gleaned exactly zero from this guy. And it has to be worth it.”

Killian drew as deep a breath as he could muster. He had to make this convincing.

“I do have a plan, Swan. And I’ll need your assistance to pull it off.”

“I’m listening…”

He thought for a moment, willing his sluggish brain to gather all of the pieces into a coherent thought.

“You… may have gathered that the Master feeds off of negative emotions in addition to the… the screams?”

Emma’s response was drowned out by echoing memories of his own cries of agony, trumpeting loudly in his skull. He hissed and pressed his fingers into his eye sockets, begging the noise to stop.

“You okay?” asked Emma quietly, full of concern. With a final shudder, Killian nodded. “I hate to rush this, but we’re running out of time.”

Mumbling as he massaged his forehead, Killian continued. “Well, it’s weakened by positive emotion--that’s why it sends its slave army to wreak random havoc. The worse the morale around its hideout, the stronger it gets.”

“Kinda got that already, when the bastard was sending you out on your mission.”

“Aye, well, suppose we could turn that to our advantage?” He lay his hand at his side once again, tremors causing his fingers to twitch uncontrollably.

“How? Even if we sent the most annoyingly cheerful and optimistic beings in the Realms, the guard slaves would kill them all before they ever got close.”

“Its camera network,” slurred Killian. An inexorable weight pressed down, the feeling of disconnectedness, of floating through half-reality with nothing to grip. His heavy eyelids at half mast, he struggled out, “Turn all camera feeds into positivity channels--uplifting music, comedies, silly cartoons and the like--at the right time…”

Emma managed to look simultaneously thoughtful and skeptical. “Defeat the scream-eater with laughter? Pretty sure I've seen that one.”

Killian shuddered. “How Pixar managed to come so close with that Waternoose fellow, I’ll never know.”

“Another one to permanently take off the Netflix queue?”

Killian restrained himself from reaching for her hand. He couldn’t allow the comfort, not now. His Master would sense it. “So? Can I count on you to arrange the details?”

“Tell people to add a laugh track to their home security systems… but without letting the cameras see.”

“Precisely.”

She blew out a breath. “Not difficult at all.”

“Remember, you’ll have the advantage of knowing when the creature is… occupied…” He smiled bravely, and perhaps the early stages of neurological degeneration could explain the quaver in his voice and the flicker of reluctance on his face.

“But, hold on, in the movie, didn’t the laughter produce more energy? For the… monster city or whatever?”

Shifting off of an intensifying throb in one hip, Killian squeezed his eyes shut in brief concession to the pain. “You, of all people, should know not to put too much stock in those things.” He worked to settle, to absorb as much rest as he could before it became impossible once again. “I’m certain it doesn’t work that way in this case. The Master has every reason to be forthright with its slaves. And it has been very clear about its need for negativity.”

“Okay, but… hell, why do you even have to go back? The camera stuff can easily be managed without you in the mix.”

He shook his head once. “It will have to be an exceedingly powerful dose to get past all of the despair the Master has cultivated in its slaves. Someone will need to tune each of the monitors to a positive channel, all at the same time. I managed to do some scouting last night; I think I know where its surveillance equipment is kept. And then, if the positivity isn’t enough... I’ll be there to finish the monster off.”

There was a beat, punctuated only by quiet beeps and the whir of the IV pump at his bedside. Then Emma grimaced.

“It’s a terrible plan. I hate it.”

“Aye,” he agreed. “I concur. But it’s all we have.”

He could tell she was thinking furiously, searching for alternatives, brain turning things over and over so fast it hurt. Her pained scowl could attest to that. He also knew the moment she gave in: her spine sagged in brief defeat before straightening along with a deep breath. Brave determination.

“It’ll work. It will. And then you’ll come back, and magic will come back, and I’ll be able to heal you.” She settled her hand along his jaw, her thumb stroking his cheek. “Promise me you believe that?”

“I…” He averted his eyes, unable to watch her face. “I dare not. Optimism is a dangerous thing to bring into the Master’s presence. I’m sorry, love. You’ll have to carry enough for the both of us.”

She did not speak for the longest time. But then she wrapped his hand in hers and gave it a tight squeeze. “Okay, Killian. Consider it done.”

He looked back at her, and saw that her eyes glistened just as much as his. Desperately, she lunged forward and possessed him with her kiss. And this one, he was allowed to feel. Because this was goodbye, and goodbye could mean forever, and that hurt so much worse than any stab of a knife or pinch of a claw ever could.

Emma was the first to break away. She startled back so fast that Killian sucked too deep a breath and found himself clutching sore ribs. Then he heard the faint buzz of her phone. She pulled it out of her pocket and read the screen with dismay.

“Crap, we only have like thirty seconds until the ten minutes are up. How are we getting you out of here?”

Killian’s sense of time was undeniably muzzy due to the drugs in his system; he would have sworn that no more than three or four minutes had elapsed. “You’ll have to stall them, Swan, unless you care to carry my unconscious self to the forest’s edge.”

Emma cursed again. “Pretend to be asleep.”

Well, that wouldn’t be too hard; the challenge would be remaining alert enough to pay attention to whatever she devised as cover. Closing his eyes, he settled back and worked to slow his heart.

He heard footsteps and then a quiet,

“How’s it going in here?”

Detective Jones. Emma sighed.

“Seemed like we were starting to get somewhere, but he was just so tired. I told him he could rest for a little while and try again later.”

One set of footsteps drew closer, and then the IV tubing lying across his arm was jiggling slightly.

“What’s that?” Emma asked casually, but Killian could detect a note of alarm.

“Dr. Whale prescribed a sedative,” explained the nurse, and Killian cursed inwardly. Maybe it really would come down to Emma having to carry him out.

“Hold on a sec. Please? Could you come back in, say, an hour? He’s sleeping without it right now, and I need to be able to wake him up in a bit to finish his questioning.”

“This isn’t like anesthesia,” soothed the nurse. “He’ll have periods of wakefulness still; it just helps him to sleep more soundly.”

“Yeah, but… he’ll be… super drowsy when he is awake, right? Couldn’t that make it harder to think clearly?”

The nurse paused. “I’m sorry, but it’s doctor’s orders… he's really most insistent.”

“Would one measly hour make that much of a difference?”

During the long silence that followed, Killian waited with bated breath, trying to continue the charade of slumber. Finally, the nurse said,

“I can give it IM, which takes longer to metabolize. He’ll get the required meds, and you’ll get your questioning time.”

“Thank you.”

“I’ll be right back--have to get a different needle.”

Killian heard her shuffle away as the IV swung to a halt. He felt Emma brush her hand along his arm, probably in silent apology. The drug would complicate things, for certain, but wouldn't truly be anything his Master would be suspicious of. It knew of his capture, and probably even his arrival at the hospital. It would likely be pleased at his escape and return, even if he did have to collapse and sleep it off halfway back to its lair.

“Has he said anything of value?” wondered Jones.

“Well… not really. Nothing we didn’t already know.”

“I’m sorry.”

Gently, trying to appear as if she didn’t want to wake him, Emma wriggled her hand beneath Killian���s. Then she sighed.

“Don’t take this the wrong way, Detective, but you look awful.”

Killian heard a familiar, rueful breath of laughter.

“Who would believe that nearly all of it could be attributed to that man there?”

Emma snickered back. “He’s a fighter, that’s for sure.”

Over the sound of the nurse’s returning footsteps, Emma added,

“Look, I appreciate the support, Killian, but you don’t have to stay. Go home; get some sleep. I’ll pass on any information I get here.”

The nurse folded back the blanket covering Killian’s right leg, and he growled faintly in feigned, sleepy annoyance, while truly wondering what the hell she was playing at. When she’d said ‘IM,’ he’d been expecting a jab in the arm. Meanwhile, Jones was responding to Emma’s suggestion.

“Thank you, Emma, but I’d like to stay. An extra set of ears can sometimes make all the difference in a case like this.”

Emma was thinking furiously; Killian could tell. Startled by the cold touch of an alcohol wipe on his outer thigh, his grumbling flinch was not at all an act.

“Sorry, Killian,” murmured the nurse. She pinched the muscle with one hand, adding, “Quick little mosquito bite, and you can go back to sleep.”

Emma squeezed his hand in solidarity, placing the other hand on his shoulder in a comforting manner. The long needle stung his thigh, the sedative drug forming an aching pool within the muscle.

“At least go have something to eat,” Emma urged Jones. “I’ll call you and you can listen in if he starts talking.”

Plucking the needle from Killian’s throbbing leg, the nurse spread a Band-Aid over the sore spot. “All done.”

While she rearranged the blankets, Emma asked casually,

“You wouldn’t happen to have a couple extra Band-Aids with you, would you? I've got some hangnails annoying the hell out of me right now.”

“Lemme see… yup, here you go!”

“Thanks.” Emma’s hand left his shoulder, presumably to take the proffered bandages.

“I’ll be back in probably an hour to check on him,” promised the nurse. “In the meantime, if you notice anything unusual, don’t hesitate to press the call button.”

“Okay. Thank you.”

She bustled out of the room, taking her damn needle with her. Emma patted Killian’s shoulder in sympathy.

“Suppose I might at least get something to drink, if I can manage my wallet with numb fingers.”

Killian could hear the sheepish smile on Jones’ face as he said the words, and he tried not to cringe. He’d done his best not to injure the other man too severely, but still felt remorseful about what had been necessary.

“Good luck,” Emma replied. “See you in a bit.”

As soon as Jones’ footsteps had retreated, Emma sat back with a sigh. “Well, that sucked. Sorry, Killian.”

Killian stretched gently and dragged his eyes open, blinking. Emma winced at him.

“Are you still going to be able to make it?” She seemed to be doing what he was: acting as if they didn’t know anything about what lay in store for him at the end of his trek. He nodded unenthusiastically. In truth, if he ignored the drug side effects, he actually did feel stronger than he had in weeks, which he credited to whatever volume of replacement blood he’d received so far.

“Hopefully at least beyond the point of rediscovery.”

Emma pulled back his blankets. “I’ll do what I can to put ‘em on the wrong track.” She reached into her pocket, retrieving her keys. “Why don’t you take the Bug? You’ll get farther. Just… you know. Pull over well before you start to fall asleep.”

Fighting the sudden chill, Killian accepted the keys as he gathered the strength required to swing his legs over the edge of the bed. His head was spinning alarmingly and he wondered for a moment whether he would need to reassess the distance he had in him. Emma studied the machine controlling the flow of donor blood and saline into his arm; after a moment, she was able to decipher how to pause its program. Setting aside one of the Band-Aids she’d begged off the nurse, Emma reached for the tape securing the catheter to his forearm. Then she stopped.

“Emma?”

A sudden sob ripped through her; she put a hand to her mouth as if stifling a cough. She couldn’t look at him.

Grim, Killian glanced a the door. “We don’t have a lot of time, love.”

She scrubbed at her eyes with one hand while picking at the corner of the tape with the other. “It’s… it’s just different, you know? Talking about it versus actually doing it. Actually helping you ditch the hospital and go back to--”

Choked by another sob, she didn’t finish the thought. Killian reached up to clasp her wrist briefly before allowing her to continue to work.

“I know.”

She managed to get one side of the tape undone with the minimal amount of arm hairs as casualties. “It just feels like… if you don’t come back… this is me, killing you, right now. Taking out this IV that could be saving your life, it’s just the same as…”

Emma shuddered, and Killian knew she was picturing that awful night with Excalibur, on the banks of the river. How it felt to run him through with her own hands. As if trying to purge the memory, she violently stripped the remaining tape from his arm, pulling the catheter right along with it and spattering small droplets of blood everywhere. Killian sat passively, allowing the outburst. For the moment.

In anger, Emma crumpled the sticky tape and tossed the wad onto the floor, then used the bedsheet to scrub at the smear of blood gathering around the puncture site. She tore open a Band-Aid and pressed it in place with a shuddering sigh.

“Don't be concerned about the silly IV; my good friend Z seems to have an unlimited supply of the damn things.”

It wasn’t about the IV, of course. Nor even the concept of proper medical care as a whole. Killian pulled his arm away from her attempts to apply pressure over the Band-Aid and reached up to stroke her face. The rough brand scar on his palm caused a tiny wince from her as it brushed her cheek.

“It isn’t you,” he murmured. “It won’t be you.”

Silent, she watched his face. Unconvinced. Unplacated. She pressed his hand deeper into her flesh and raked him with her gaze, as if burning his features and new, unfamiliar scars into her memory. He saw the moment of surrender. The light left her eyes and they became cold, tired points of vacuum. Outer space without stars. At last, her voice came through the death mask, low and flat.

“Why us?”

A shade above bitter, Killian said,

“We’re the heroes.”

A somber, unsurprised nod, and then Emma was back in motion. But with inexplicable intent. Killian couldn’t contain the elevating eyebrow as she shed her jacket and prepared to lift her t-shirt. She waved her hand in vague explanation.

“I don’t know how most of this crap works. But if it turns off suddenly, or loses input, it might alert the nurse’s station, and we don’t want that, right? So we switch, as fast as we can. Hopefully we can set it up reading me, and they’ll think you just rolled over or something.”

Glancing down at the EKG leads attached to his chest, Killian’s skeptical expression didn’t change. “And I’m meant to have thought of this myself, am I?”

“You’re smarter than you look.”

He missed the normal playful tone with which she would have teased him. But she was still stiff, heartless, carefully on guard. Ready now, the t-shirt rolled up and tucked under her chin but with her arms still in their sleeves, she sat beside him. Testing the slack in the wires, she took a breath and frowned in concentration.

“Lemme do it,” she instructed quietly. “You just keep an eye on the door.”

Killian nodded and did as ordered, but watched out of the corner of his eye. Emma dug her nails beneath the first EKG lead, and he knew she was attempting to take as much of the sticky conducting gel with it to ensure a solid connection. She paused to estimate the proper placement on her own chest--right in the center above the sternum--then brutally ripped the pad off of him and slapped it on herself. The loss of a few chest hairs left stinging patches behind as Emma repeated the process twice more. Successfully, by the sound of it: the machine behind them beeped a couple of queries as the transfer took place, but no obnoxious alarm rent the afternoon stillness.

“Not bad, Swan,” Killian praised. He ducked out of the way of the gathered leads while Emma adjusted her shirt back down and checked the monitor for functionality.

“The question will be whether I can stand pretending to be unconscious until someone discovers me.” Emma reached up, unclipped the pulse oximeter from his earlobe, and clamped it onto her own. She made a face. “Think I prefer the fingertip one.”

“Aye, well, it does tend to get in the way when one has only five fingers at one’s disposal.”

The last piece of equipment was the blood pressure cuff, which was easy enough to slip off and then adjust to fit her bicep. And then Killian was free.

He stood with appropriate caution, but still nearly fell--twice--as vertigo, generalized weakness, and drug side effects played havoc with his balance. Emma watched with clenched teeth, no doubt struggling with the urge to tackle him and wrestle him back into bed, the rest of the world be damned. But she contained herself, he clung stubbornly to his equilibrium, and they were again faced with the reality of the moment. Cautiously, Emma got up, holding the EKG sensors in place. She assessed him briefly, cracks in the emotionless mask allowing both tender concern and raging terror to leak

“You gonna be okay, hiking in that?”

Killian glanced down at his gown with a shrug. “It’s no worse than the sackcloth.”

“And… your feet? What about…” She trailed off, and against his better judgment, Killian stepped forward and wrapped her in an embrace. For the sake of his Master, though, he kept his mind on the goodbye, on his concern for Emma. On that disturbing mantra. Hope kidnapped, Hope tortured, Hope dead... Muffled into his chest came the words they both dreaded:

“You’d better go.”

Emma was dry-eyed and tight-lipped as she stepped back from him. He turned toward the window. And neither of them said what was foremost in their hearts.

I love you.

[naughty-teddy-innit]

Rehabilitation: Chapter 4 An Ed Sheeran Fanfiction

Title:      Rehab: Chapter 4

Author: @naughty-teddy-innit

Rating:  PG- No smuts for a while, but intense content?

Click here for the Previous Chapter

CHAPTER 4

“You’re shitting me.” Her face was nothing short of incredulous as she stared me down over the messy, food strewn surface that was my kitchen counter. “How is that even possible??”

 I popped a slice of freshly washed strawberry into my mouth and tossed the rest of the juicy slices I’d already cut up into the glass salad bowl in front of me, a yummy complement to the spinach greens and pecans I’d already added to it.

 “I don’t know??” I took a sip of my Sauv and then replaced my goblet on the counter.  “I guess I just don’t Social Media and/or Pop Culture much. I grew up with Credence and Springsteen and Janis and the masters.  I just don’t pay much attention to the current pop stuff. Until I managed to bump into his manager, I had no idea who he even was.”

 “Leesie.” She paused herself mid-sentence and fortified her apparent upcoming rant with a long sip from her own wineglass, and then fixed me with a stare.  “He’s probably the most famous musician on the planet right now. He writes the most beautiful lyrics you can imagine, has a voice like melted butter….and did I mention he’s fucking gorgeous?!! And has the most delicious accent you can even fathom. And he’s supposed to be the sweetest guy EVER. How do you NOT tell me he’s lying in your hospital and that HE KNOWS WHO YOU ARE??”

 “Lynds.” I swallowed the laugh that threatened to bubble out and fixed a smile on my best friend. Who was currently aiming a dagger-laden death stare right back at me. “I love you. Very much. But you know I can’t talk about patients and medical stuff at work.  If I screw with confidentiality stuff, I could get FIRED. I like my job, remember??”

 “I’m not talking about his medical records! Everyone knows he was in this awful crash and that they have him locked away where the press and all that can’t get to him.  But like…. you’ve had conversations with him! I mean- he’s gonna be okay right?”

 “Happenstance, honestly.  I never went looking for him. And I wouldn’t say it was much of a conversation. Actually…”  I grabbed the wooden salad tossers and the dressing and began to toss the salad. “A few days ago, one of the healthcare aides got caught trying to sneak pictures of him on her iPhone while she was supposed to be passing out meals.  Security had to call the police because she flipped her shit when the nurse manager caught and confronted her.  Hauled her out yelling and screaming.  Thankfully Stuart figured it out before she managed to cause any real damage or freak him out, but it was awful.  THOSE kinds of people are the ones looking for him. I’m just doing my job. I never wanna be like that.”  I inwardly shuddered at the thought. So intrusive. I caught her eye and grinned. “I guess I can say he’s going to be okay. But I SWEAR. I really don’t know much else.”

 I looked up and she was swiping and searching for something on her phone, her lip caught between her teeth.  She suddenly grinned and slid her phone across the counter to me. I could see it was open to a video app, and I could see Ed’s name across the bottom.

 “Watch that.”

 I totally was not going to deny that I was curious.  I shook my head, laughing, and plopped myself down on the stool at the end of the peninsula-style counter.  “And what is it exactly I’m watching?”

“I’m starting you off easy.  This was the biggest song off his last album.  You’ll see.”  She bit the end off of one of the strawberries that hadn’t made it into the bowl and continued. “That pretty boy is ALL about the love songs.”

 I tapped the screen and grabbed the half empty bottle of wine, refilling my glass while the video loaded on the screen.  I flipped her phone around, allowing the images to fill the whole screen, and raised an eyebrow at the figure of the dancer whirling across the screen.  Whoever she was, she had a slammin’ body.

 His voice WAS really pretty, she definitely hadn’t made that up.  It wasn’t booming or theatrical, but softer. More melodic and sweet.  And he certainly pulled off the vest and crisp white shirt with the rolled-up sleeves thing REAL well; I was also more than curious about all the colourful tattoos that adorned his arms. He definitely was not an ugly dude that was for sure. But. I was feeling like I was supposed to be blown away. Why did I feel like my next opinion was going to be a REAL Unpopular One?

 “Well…” I took a deep breath and bit my lip at her eager expression. “I mean, he’s definitely not awful to look at. I’ll give you that.  And his voice is pretty! But it’s…I mean, it’s kinda just a typical pop gushy love song, right?  And the pretty pop star boy dancing with the pretty girl?? Come on…”  I stifled a laugh at the way her mouth dropped open in what was obviously affront and offense. My girl, she was nothing if not dramatic.

 “Annaliese. You are damaged, I swear. Where is your sense of romance??”  She was gesturing wildly with her freshly filled wine glass, the cold white wine an inch from sloshing all over our salad, and it took everything I had to not crack up completely.  I just shook my head.

 “It’s there.”  My voice was soft as I watched the video fade out on the screen. “Guess it just hasn’t come out in while.”

---------------

The next afternoon found me back on familiar ground, ready to get my volunteer on.  The schedule had me on the 4C IP unit, also known as the inpatient/recovery unit, and it was one of the sections of the hospital where I’d spent plenty of volunteer hours.  I was feeling particularly cheerful and rested considering the copious amounts of wine that I’d accidentally (or not so accidentally) consumed the night before, and I swiped my way through the unit’s security doors with a smile on my face.  I spent a good chunk of the afternoon with Callie, a nine-year-old girl recovering from a kidney transplant, knee-deep in Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire.  She’d read the book multiple times and by the time we finished the movie, she’d fully educated me on dragons, wands and Hogwarts.  She was a feisty, tiny little thing, and was as desperate to get home and get on with being a kid as any child I’d spent time with over the years, and I definitely finished up my time with her uplifted, and with a grin on my face.  I promised French fries and a milkshake on my next visit, as long as the doctor signed off on them, and slipped out as her mom was coming back from her lunch.

 I stepped up to the massive desk at the nurses’ station, intending to find out where they needed me next, when I heard a familiar voice behind me.

 “Really doesn’t make a damn bit of difference, mate. I really just want to sleep. Can I just get back to my room now, please?”

The soft accented voice caught my ear right away, I remembered it well. But unlike the last time….it was flat. Devoid of any warmth.  

 It was Ed.

 I had no idea where it came from, or what I was even thinking, but I found myself turning towards him and before I could help myself, my mouth was open and words were coming out.

 “Ed…Hey.” I tipped my head to the side and raised an eyebrow. “Everything okay? Anything I can do?”

 He was carefully positioned in a wheelchair, his casted leg propped up and his injured hand, implanted pins and cast still intact, resting on his leg.  He had a nasal cannula still in place, but much of the swelling and bruising that had taken over his face had gone down.  I could see he was still moving very stiffly, carefully, as he slowly turned his head toward my voice. The orderly who’d parked him at the nurses’ station shot me a quick, polite smile and turned to head off to his next task.

 A brief, rather emotionless smile flickered across his face, and then he tipped his head back, resting it against the back of the chair.

 ‘S’kind of you, Annaliese.” He took a slow breath. “Tired of being poked and prodded and this test and that scan. Really jus’ want to get back to my room.”

 “Well, I can certainly get you that far.” I raised an eyebrow at the nurse behind the desk. She nodded at me, and gestured to the door at the end of the hall. “I’ll send Malik to help actually get him situated in a minute, he’s just finishing up with inventory in the med lockup.  Thank you, Leesie.”  She raised an eyebrow at Ed, and then looked back at me before looking back at the sheaf of paperwork in front of her. “Perhaps you can work your magic and get this stubborn young man to eat.”

 I just raised an eyebrow and nodded, deciding that for now my inside voice would probably be a better choice.  Why in the world wasn’t he eating?

 “Alright…Let’s get you back to your room.”  I tried another gentle smile as I released the brake on his chair, but he just nodded, staring off down the hall.  We found his room, and I got his chair situated by the bed while we waited for the nurse to come help him into it.  I debated with myself for all of 3 seconds before lightly dropping myself into the chair beside him.

 I took a deep breath and found myself cocking my head in an attempt to catch his eye. “Alright.  So. What’s this business about you not eating?”

 The only response I got was a huffed breath and tight-lipped expression. But I wasn’t giving up.  Apparently, I was no longer nervous about overstepping? I tucked a stray lock of hair back behind my ear where it belonged, and leaned forward, intent on getting him to talk to me.

 “I’m a lot of things, definitely not a doctor, but… Even I know food is kinda important when you’re trying to heal. Gotta fuel your body, right?”

 “Why.” His voice was low and his eyes were closed. “Does everyone in this bloody place seem to be obsessed with feeding me? I’m not fuckin’ hungry.”

“Well….” I was bit taken aback, to be honest. Admittedly, my impression of him was limited to the night he’d woken up and remembered me from the ICU, but he’d seemed like a genuinely kind, nice guy. I could only imagine he must be struggling with all of this, so I figured the snippiness was only fair, and let it slide. I was trying to think of the right thing to say when he beat me to the punch.

 “Nah. I’d like very much if everyone, EVERYONE, could please remove themselves from jumping up my arse, and just leave me alone. Stuart, my dad, Mum, Matt, everyone. Just….”  He was silently shaking his head, and his uninjured hand was clenched in a fist.  “It’s NOT going to be fine, and stuffing my bloody face isn’t….it doesn’t…Jesus.” His voice broke off and I took the opportunity to change tactics.

 “Okay then.” He looked up at me, the straightforward tone in my voice probably taking him by surprise. I pushed on. “Fuck the food. Let’s just…leave that. The rest of it though? Ed… I’d imagine these people, who clearly care about you and love you so much, just want you get strong so you can get better and get the hell out of here. Right? You must want to get back to your life and never see this place again?”

 The saddest smile I think I’ve ever seen ghosted across his face, and he looked down. “Mikey doesn’t get to go back, does he?”

 Oh god…his driver. I’d left his room when I’d last seen him, before that conversation took place.  I couldn’t imagine how that must have broken his heart. My heart ached at sadness in his eyes.

 “Oh Ed…” It came out as a whisper. He looked up at me, the pain in his eyes raw.  They were such a beautiful blue, but… there was no light in them. Like windows with the blinds pulled tightly shut.  “I am so, so sorry. I can’t even ima-“

 “No, no you can’t. No one can.”  He cut me off, his accented voice once again flat. “They can’t imagine because it wasn’t their fuckin’ fault. It was mine.  He can’t go back to his wife and his children and his grandchildren, because I’m a selfish prick. He’s dead because’a me. All there is, and I don’t really care about goin’ back anywhere but my bed. Please.”

 My heart shattered right then and there. How could he possibly think such an awful accident could be his fault? Nobody, NOBODY should have that on their conscience. I didn't stop to think; I lifted myself up from my chair and knelt by his, and laid a hand on his good one. I squeezed gently and waited for him to look up at me before I spoke, and then speak I did.

 “I was there, Ed. The night this all happened? I was working in the ER when everyone was brought in. I saw the paramedics bring in the truck driver. The guy that fell ASLEEP at the wheel, the one that hit you. I could hear him crying, wailing actually, that he didn't mean to. That he was exhausted and never meant to hurt anyone, that it was an accident. But regardless of all of that, he hit you. HE did this. Not you. You could not have known something like this would happen.” I took a breath and bit my lip, in an attempt to gather my thoughts, and pressed on. “Mikey shouldn't have died, Ed, but nothing you did made that happen. I promise you that.”

 I could see the sheen of tears in his eyes, and I so badly wanted to make it better. But I didn't know how.

 “... She's right, you know.”

 The soft, gentle voice that came from behind my right shoulder startled the hell out of me and I quite nearly fell backwards. I pulled myself together and awkwardly stood to see who was agreeing with me, and Imogen, Ed's tiny, lovely mother was standing just inside the door, nothing but love on her face as she looked her boy in the eyes. I opened my mouth, the beginnings of an apology for… What I wasn't sure, on the tip of my tongue. She shook her head and gently patted my shoulder before I could get anything out, and then lightly settled herself into my now empty chair. How long had she been standing there? How long had she been listening?

 “Do you know…? “  She paused and I suddenly realized, as she glanced in my direction, that she was addressing me. “When they came to talk to us, the police, about the accident, when they told us what happened. Do you know what my boy said when they told us about the man that fell asleep?”

I shook my head, watching as she smoothed an errant curl from his forehead and lightly brushed her fingertips along his stitched up hairline.

“He wasn't even angry. He can't have meant to, he said. Isn't it enough he has to live with what he did? What about his children?” She shook her head and Ed spoke up before she could say another word.

 “They said he has 4 children at home. He'd been driving those massive lorries for years, to put them through school. Who can bloody blame him for being tired?” His voice was quiet, not really directed at either of us. “He never meant to smash us up. He's gotta live with the guilt. And so do I.”

 “Ebs.” Ebs? Her voice was soft, but determined, and his eyes met hers in a heartbeat. The expression on his face…this boy loved his mama, that much was clear.  “What Annaliese said is exactly right. You mustn’t take this on your shoulders. There's no guilt for you to live with. Michael… He’s driven you for YEARS. He knew the job, he knew you were a night owl; you always have been. He loved you like you were one of his own, and looked out for you the same way. He wouldn't have blamed you for this. Not for one moment.”

 Ed was already shaking his head. “Nah. I made him drive, overnight, in the freezing rain. Gig wasn't even for three more days, and he'd been sick with a cold for a week. We weren't supposed to leave that night. I wanted to get there early so I could write with the lads. We were on the road because of me. Simple. My fault. I'm here, he's not. All there is.” His voice was sharp, dripping with…disgust? Anger? At himself, I didn’t know, but it was killing me. And I was not having it.

 “And if you'd left the next morning, maybe a motorcycle would have cut you off or a tire might have blown.” It was my turn to shake my head. “Ed, I'm calling it. That's crap.”

 Imogen raised an eyebrow in my direction, a slight smile dimpling her cheek, and nodded.

 A different voice cut through the room before anyone could say a word, and I turned to see Malik, a big hulking quarterback of a man, and one of the best nurses on the unit, popping his head in the door.

 “My man! I hear we need to get you back in your bed. You down?”

 “Please.” He truly sounded exhausted and I knew it was time to let him rest.

 “Leesie - they bringin’ up the supper trays if you wanna give em’ a hand?” He shot me a grin and moved to the side of the bed to get it adjusted for Ed's casts and oxygen and monitors.”Gonna get this boy up in his bed and check his oxygen and pressure and all that nonsense.”

 “Think I can handle that.” I shot a raised eyebrow at Ed. “Don't even tell me gourmet Hospital Spaghetti doesn't sound delicious right now.”

 He just shook his head and sighed. “Not In-N-Out, is it.”

 Imogen unfolded herself from the chair, a tired smile on her face. “Do you work here, too, Annaliese?”

 “Oh, no!” I quickly explained my volunteer hours versus working in the ER and ICU, and I let out a quiet laugh and smile, explaining that I hope they didn’t think I was intruding or...well. Stalking her son, for lack of better way of putting it.

 “No, no, not at all. It…. “   She paused a moment, walking with me to the door while Malik assisted Ed back into his bed, and lowered her voice a notch. “It’s very reassuring and a good feeling to know my son is surrounded by people who care about him in this place. You've been very kind; John and Stuart have both said the same thing. And you're honest with him. You pull no punches. I like that.”

 I could feel my cheeks pink up at her words, and she patted my arm as I smiled and huffed a small breath.

“Well thank you, Mrs. Sheeran. That means a lot. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go pass out some exquisitely prepared gourmet hospital food.” I rolled my eyes and she shook her head, and we both shared a laugh. “Hopefully Ed will actually eat some tonight.”

 I turned to leave, but stopped short when Ed's soft accent caught me.

 “Leesie? They call you that, right?” He was back in bed, his leg positioned back in traction, and his oxygen and monitors set around him, pillows piled up behind him.

 I couldn't help the smile that crossed my face. And there was that pink in my cheeks again....

 “Yeah. Yeah they do.” I crossed my arms, and smiled to myself.  “My mom used to hate it. She always said she picked Annaliese because it was different and pretty, and then everyone started calling me Leesie for short. To this day, she's about the only one, who knows me anyway, that calls me by my full name. Well. Unless I'm in trouble, I guess.”  I tucked a stray lock of hair behind my hair, silently chastising myself for being such a chatterbox.

 “... I think Annaliese is lovely.”

 His voice was soft, and was studiously looking down at his injured hand, still bandaged, implanted pins still in place.

 “Oh, well… Thank you. You're sweet. I don't mind it much myself.” I smiled at him, thinking that this was the sweet boy I’d met the other night. I caught a glimpse of my watch and straightened up. 

“Oh crap. I should go, dinner is starting.  Be excited, Ed -  Spaghetti is coming.” I may have rolled my eyes, hoping for a smile. 

 “...Will you be…. Here… again this week?”

 I stopped short again at his quiet voice. If he wanted me to be…

 I tipped my head to the side. “Wednesday for a few hours, I think…?” I said softly.

“Just wonderin’...”  He lay his head back against the pillows, grimacing as something somewhere caught him. I hated seeing him in pain. 

“Could always use a visitor…. If you're around, that is.”

 I shook my head and flashed him a small smile. “Eat your spaghetti, bud.” I turned to leave. “And we’ll see.”

LINK TO MASTERLIST

A/N: I am so SO sorry this took so long, but it feels so good to be back in the swing of things. I beg you please, all comments/feedback/suggestions/Reblogs/ANYTHING is welcome and appreciated! Drop me an Anon ask, a comment, anything, and it makes all the difference! Thank you and SO Much more to come!! Xoxoxoxoxoxo

[azzandra]

Cave Felem

Girl Genius Event Week Day 3: Construct / Clank / Machine

Words: ~1200

(Part 1) (Part 2)

Cats were not uncommon on space stations or ships. Any place that facilitated the traffic of people or freight tended to be plagued by vermin, and even technology specifically developed to deal with this problem had its limits. When the DNA scanners, energy nets, organic dischargers and cleaning automats with switchblades all failed, nothing could beat a good old fashioned cat for murder with great prejudice.

What stations tended not to have, however, were uplifted cats. It was not uncommon for frontier or backwater colonies to have uplifted animals, but this was seen as a practice typical to obscure outposts, where extra working hands were always needed, and if the extra working hands were also not recognized as people, that was all the better excuse not to pay a wage. Core Worlds abhorred even the creation of uplifted animals as inhumane, and the traders who kept the flow of commerce between the frontier and the Core Worlds tended to share in that attitude.

Krosp was... an interesting outlier, on a series of levels. Agatha still didn't know what he'd been doing on the station, except his creator had apparently run foul of Captain Wulfenbach's militia. But he was unusually sharp even for an uplifted animal, and self-interested in a way that tended to be eliminated on a gene level during the modification process.

Which was perhaps why Krosp was the first one to notice when the pack of mercenaries caught up with them.

"There's three of them," Krosp informed Agatha in an undertone, poking his whiskers out of her backpack just enough to be heard.

Agatha was in the middle of haggling for parts, so she didn't pause to respond to Krosp, but her negotiations turned more aggressive after that.

They'd gotten as far as the Zumzum asteroid belt colony before Baba Yaga's rickety old hyperstream engine finally gave out. They could have surfed the hyperstream for a while longer, letting it take them all the way into wild space, but there was no saying if they'd run into an outpost before they ran out of steam. Zumzum was the last civilized marker on their map.

Agatha didn't get the part she needed, but she left the machine shop behind and walked into the flow of traffic. There wasn't much of it; as a trading post, Zumzum was secondary at best, and made its living off asteroid mining. But in the crepuscular lighting of the colony, kept at 40% to preserve energy, Agatha was hoping she could at least lose the tail.

She dodged between two buildings, climbed up a ladder, scooted across a thick pipeline, and dropped into an alleyway on the other side of the marketplace. It looked like a refueling station just off the space dock, but it was empty of workers at this hour. The colony was small, but it was built into an asteroid, and it was twisty, especially since they were clever about the artificial gravity. You looked up, and what you saw wasn't sky, but more buildings. Maybe that labyrinthine nature would be enough to help her escape pursuit.

She had to let Zeetha know about this pursuit. But calling her might be too risky, if the mercenaries were listening for any transmissions.

Agatha heard footsteps, and that sent her scurrying for a nearby grate, which she pried loose so she could hide into the crawlspace behind it. She had just enough time to pull the grate back into place before the footsteps turned a corner.

She help her breath, straining to listen and be quiet both at once, but the loudest thing was the thundering of her heart. Both she and Krosp stood absolutely frozen as they waited. The footsteps seemed to make a short circuit of the area just outside, and then fade into the distance.

The entire thing must have taken just five minutes, but Agatha was shaking with tension by the end. It might have just been paranoia, and whoever that was hadn't even been looking for them, but after the narrow escape out of Mechanicsburg, Agatha didn't want to take any risks.

Krosp's ears flicked, swiveling back and forth as he strained to listen for any sign of approach.

"I think they may be gone," he said.

"Oh, good." Agatha pushed the grate off the entrance, careful not to rattle it too loudly. "We need to find Zeetha and--ack!"

Agatha was interrupted by a hand clamping down on her forearm as soon as she tried to leave the crawlspace, and dragging her out.

Krosp hissed as Agatha was dragged out, her feet kicking and stirring up dust.

"Hoy! Look vot ve got here!" a cheerful voice rang out, and that was when Krosp zipped out and jumped right onto the face of Agatha's attacked.

The mercenary staggered back, dropping Agatha as he suddenly had a face full of claws to deal with.

"Agatha, run!" Krosp yelled, digging in viciously.

But when he glimpsed back at her, she was already in the clutches of a second mercenary, and--how had Krosp not heard two of them get so close?

Krosp froze with his claws still planted right in the face of the mercenary he'd attacked. He looked unusually green, now that Krosp thought about it. Baseline humans didn't usually come in that kind of coloration. And if this wasn't a human, then what--

The moment of hesitation was enough for the mercenary to grab Krosp by the scruff of his neck and peel him off, holding Krosp at arm's length.

"Goot kitty," the green one spoke, grinning even with the bleeding furrows on his face and neck, "but ve iz not goink to hurt hyu."

The grip on his scruff was immobilizing, sending a numbness down from Krosp's jaw to the rest of his body. But the mercenary dropped him, and Krosp landed gracefully on his feet. His fur stood on end as he hissed and prepared for another attack. There were three of them now, Krosp noticed. How were they this stealthy?

Agatha was not out of the fight yet. She snarled as she swung at her own opponent, managing a punch to the neck that would have made Zeetha proud. Most armor was vulnerable at the joints, and she'd been drilling Agatha on the weak points for every model.

"Hy giff up!" Agatha's opponent said, throwing up his arms, and this actually had Agatha freeze in place, unsure about the sincerity of the statement, but unwilling to keep waling on someone who wasn't fighting back.

"Ve iz ezpecially not goink to hurt you," the green humanoid continued, and then fell to one knee, much to Krosp's confusion. "Miztress," he added, his grin still in place as his eyes were turned down.

Agatha looked flabbergasted for a moment. The second mercenary took off his helmet to reveal a purple complexion and a mane of enviably glossy hair. He knelt as well. And the third mercenary, who had a horn sticking out of his head and had foregone a helmet completely, joined them.

"Krosp, they're Jagers," Agatha whispered to him, awed and even a little scared. "Uh... please rise?"

The Jagers were on their feet with surprising speed, grinning at her.

"Hyu haff a goot cat," the green one told her, voice rumbling with approval. "But how'z about ve do de fighting for hyu now?"

[katrinawritesthings]

Jonghyun/Taemin; Problematic Fave (Part 4/4); PG

He still has to ask Key what their favorite song is, too. He’s fairly certain that it’s “White T-Shirt,” but it might also be “Orbit,” because “Orbit” is exactly the kind of gay shit Key is into, even if it is a little slow.

ao3

1-2-3-4

Jonghyun,

Hey!! Taeminnie again. I’m on my couch writing this, all snuggly in blankies because Spring still hasn’t made up her mind and it’s raining pretty hard outside. I do love the rain, but I prefer to experience through a window rather than in the middle of it. I’m watching Key’s little pups while they’re at work so they’re up here with me. Key doesn’t like them on the couch but they’re really really warm and what Key doesn’t know won’t hurt them. I’ll send a pic for you to see!

Speaking of Key, they told me that they saw you coming out of a recording studio as they were going in the other day. Honestly, at this point, I think their feelings towards you are more complicated than mine ever were. They’re still mad at you in defense of me from nine months ago, but I think that’s mostly out of spite because I told them that they couldn’t stay mad forever. They also lowkey want to book you again for another shoot, really love your little line of accessories, and are extremely bitter that they like more than three songs on your She Is album. They won’t admit it, but ??????fuck i forgot??????? is their favorite song.

As for me, I think I’ve finally come to a conclusion for my favorite. I know, it’s been, like, three weeks, and I’ve cycled through all of them being my favorite (except “Moon,” and I’ve already explained what was wrong with that one), but I’m serious now. I really think that I like “Dress Up” the most. It feels weird to say that, seeing as how I always liked your softer songs the most, but I can’t deny that “Dress Up” is fun to jam to.

I wanted to tell you again that this comeback of yours has been so good and healing for me. The fun songs, the bright colors, the inherent and blatant queerness of everything, your pink hair…. All of it makes me feel bright and fuzzy on the inside. Before, your stuff would cheer me up just by being gentle and uplifting, but now it cheers me up by making me feel all excited and bouncy and validated. So, thanks for that!

Thank you for letting me love you, too. I know I say it a lot, but it’s just nice to have a fave to think of and love and feel all fuzzy about again. Maybe I’ll get a real romantic datefriend one day and be able to be super gay with them, or maybe I’ll friend marry Key and get all of my emotional fulfillment from that, but until then, it’s nice to draw comfort from you. Thanks for letting me and, really, all of your fans do that. I know it’s kind of part of the job description of being an celeb, but still. It means a lot to a lot of us that you put so much of yourself out there and act as support for us, even from afar.

This is getting kind of long, so I’ll stop here. I know this week is your last week of promotions, so good luck on all of your music shows and I hope you’re having a nice day!!

Love, Lee Taemin ❤

P.S.: If you ever see Key again and they try to give you two dollars, just take it and pretend like you know what it’s for.

Taemin hums to himself as he reads his letter over. That’s a pretty good first draft, he thinks, and he’s pretty sure that his opinion isn’t affected at all by how he’s hanging half upside-down off of the couch and squinting at it on his phone.

Key’s little pupps snooze gently, one in his lap and one nuzzled against his leg. Taemin scrunches his nose. Hmm. Maybe he won’t send Jonghyun a picture of his lower half, even if there are cute dogs in it. That would be kind of weird, he thinks. Maybe he can get Key to--oh, no, he’ll have to scoot them off of the couch before Key comes to pick them up so he doesn’t get in trouble. Dang.

He still has to ask Key what their favorite song is, too. He’s fairly certain that it’s “White T-Shirt,” but it might also be “Orbit,” because “Orbit” is exactly the kind of gay shit Key is into, even if it is a little slow.

Taemin’s left eye scrunches when he reads over the little paragraph about his favorite song. Every time he thinks about “Moon” he feels all gross inside and he should really stop thinking about it, but he just. Wants to passive aggressively remind Jonghyun that it was gross at least one more time in his letters. After this one he’ll start working on forgetting it exists. At least it helps him keep his love for Jonghyun grounded.

“Dress Up,” though. “Dress Up” is good.

The whole comeback is good, and as Temin scans his letter he feels himself warming up inside all over again. A smile cracks open his face, cheeks flushing as pink as Jonghyun’s lovely, lovely, lovely hair. It’s so nice and fun and bouncy and--

“Fuck,” Taemin hisses. He was turning halfway over to smile into his carpet and his legs slipped off of the couch. He crumples gracelessly, grunting softly as he struggles to get his hands under him and push himself up. “God, fuck,” he mutters. Pushing his bangs out of his face, he leans against his couch to just blink for a moment and let the blood rush out of his brain and into the rest of him.

Key’s little pups whine and snuffle at him, Garcons's wet little nose booping his temple. Taemin leans away, then lifts a hand to pet their soft little heads.

“I’m fine, I’m fine,” he tells them. “Mwah.” He kissies Garcons's little head when he keeps nuzzling at him. The press of his lips seems to calm the pup and Taemin vaguely wonders if that has anything to do with the way Key pulls themself out of anxiety attacks with a million little kissies to who or whatever is nearby. Probably.

Instead of trying to clamber back onto the couch, he slowly slides himself the rest of the way off and rolls to lie on his tummy. Tugging a pillow down from the couch, he holds it under his chin as he finds his phone again. A pup hops down from the couch and wiggles to curl up on his butt; glancing over his shoulder, he finds Comme Des. He lazily reaches behind himself to give him a little pat before he looks back to his phone to finish scanning his letter.

Blah blah blah, blah blah dogs, Key blah blah, songs blah, the comeback makes Taemin’s soul feel alive, blah blah… aha. Taemin reads over the next paragraph with his top lip between his teeth. Hmm. Feels a little repetitive in places. He’ll work on that. The P.S. he has to work on too; he wants it to be in the actual letter and not a P.S. He’ll figure out how to add it in without making it seem too bulky or whatever. Besides that, though….

“I think this is good,” Taemin hums to himself. He lifts the phone up to Garcons on the couch so he can see. “What do you think?” he asks. The little pup sniffs his hand and then licks him. Taemin assumes that means “yes” and gives Garcons a little scritch behind his ears. Then he rolls to his back--apologizing again for disturbing Comme Des and letting him snuggle up under his arm instead--and taps his letter to edit it.

Honestly, he missed how fun this was; just sitting here and editing out his thoughts and feelings. Thinking them over and figuring out exactly what he wants to say is so… calming. Even his first letter back where he sent, like, three pages detailing his entire emotional response to everything was soothing. Since he started writing to Jonghyun again his anxiety has been better than it has in months and he’s been able to reason his worries away almost as well as he could before he even got all hecked up in the first place. He thinks he might start up a diary anyway, in addition to his almost-weekly letters to Jonghyun. It might get him back to where he started.

As he’s deleting a word in the third paragraph, his phone vibrates in his hand with a text from Key. He hums. Now would be a good time to ask about their favorite song, yeah, before he forgets again. He opens the texts of the day and scans them quickly: “good morning egghead,” “I’ll bring you a muffin when I drop the kids off,” “do you think thick stripes or thin stripes look better in plaid,” “one of these days I’m gonna say something important and you’re gonna regret letting my texts pile up,” and “wow okay I know I just said that as a joke but I can not Fucking believe this and u gotta reply rn or I’m gonna call you!!!”

“Hmm,” Taemin hums again. He scrunches his face in confusion. What. He doesn’t think he’s ever seen Key use any punctuation in a text, let alone three whole exclamation points. He sits up, resting one elbow on the couch so he can focus better on his phone as he texts back, “Thick stripes and also what’s your favorite song of Jonghyun’s again and also What???”

Taemin isn’t sure if it’s the immediateness of Key’s reply or the contents of it that makes him drop his phone. Either way, he hisses and scrambles to pick it up and confirm that what he thinks he saw is really is what he thought he saw.

It is: Key sent him a picture of them with Jonghyun, like, right next to each other, taking a selfie, together, Key looking huffy and annoyed and Jonghyun smiling gently with one hand kind of blurry in a little wave.

Taemin can’t fucking believe it, either.

“Ohmhy fuc k ign gdo,” he texts back. He is so upset and jealous. What the fuck. This is so unfair. It’s not even that Key is with Jonghyun and he isn’t, or that Key doesn’t appreciate Jonghyun’s loveliness, or even that he’s so far up Jonghyun’s ass again that it burns him up on the inside to not be there; it’s that that morning Key literally offered to take him to work with them and he declined. It’s his own dang fault that he isn’t blushing and smiling and hiding behind Key’s arm with his heart making him all giddy right now.

“I went to a radio station to grab a friend to hang out with and he was here and he says hi,” Key texts him next. Taemin groans quietly and wilts back down to the floor, texting back a single frowny face. Then he throws his arm dramatically over his eyes and whines again. Heck. Hecking fuck. He does not believe. Lifting his arm just enough to see his text, he types “Tell him i’m in the middle of writing a letter to him.”

“I’m not playing back and forth between u two jfc,” is Key’s reply. Taemin huffs, then sighs. Yeah, that’s kind of what he figured they would say. “listen tho he’s trying to give me a free album bc I guess that’s a thing that singers do but I don’t want it so do u want me to tell him to just sign it to you instead,” Key sends next. Taemin gasps this time, suddenly all excited again. He sits up quickly, then grunts and lies back down, pressing his hand to his forehead under his bangs to fight the sudden wooziness. Whoops. Key’s pups nuzzle and whine at him; Taemin doesn’t know if it’s from worry or annoyance at his constant movement.

“Yes pls,” he texts back, and then scoops both dogs up in his arms to snuggle them under his chin. With two soft little fuzzballs against him and the prospect of a bright, shiny, new, signed album coming his way soon, Taemin feels his inside get all warm and fuzzy again very quickly. He’s never been more sure of anything in his life than the fact that he loves his fave and he loves being able to love him.

[iratesquatch]

Valiance: an Oath to Honor, Duty, and Sacrifice

In which a very tired student sets out to write a summary, does her best.

Summary of my Dissertation on the History of the Valiant

Draft 1(to be paired with the summary of Vrinslen culture)

Colnso, Jayreen

Date TBD

Dr. Lanstring

Northwestern Station University No. 16

Before the Fourth Expansion, the planet Brinslav was home to the Vrinslen, the precursors to what would become the Shear. Then, they were a simple people, with very limited access to magic, given their planet’s distance from the closest lay line. Their society was splintered, with various tribes vying for dominance of the planet’s single continent, Traas.

During the preliminary scouting for the Fourth Expansion, this planet was labeled as too dangerous to be uplifted, and placed in quarantine. However, as the expansion got underway, the funds ran out before Brinslav was within the rings, instead falling on the Fringe. As the dust from the Expansion settled, pirates, marauders, and various predatory types realized how powerful the Vrinslen were. Standing anywhere from 10-13 feet in height, and weighing up to half a ton, a single Vrinslen was more than a match for any squad of trained soldiers. Since the planet was on the Fringe, there was no one to enforce the quarantine.

Soon, a entrepreneurial group of pirates decided to make their move. They had noticed that one of the larger tribes, then called the Trubick, or the Sword, was far and away more bloodthirsty than their neighbors. The pirates struck a deal, trading weapons, technology, and knowledge in exchange for warriors. The leader of the Trubick, a woman named Vring’s Swordarm, was as cunning as she was ruthless. Armed with the pirates’ technology, she quickly brought the rest of the tribes under her heel, assimilating or enslaving them all.

Not long after she managed this, however, she was challenged. By the man history remembers, Klimon Nilx, or, as we know him, Klimon’s Shear. Vrinslen etiquette demanded that, since he was also Vrinslen royalty (as can be seen by his single-word name), Vring had to accept the challenge. Details on the duel vary wildly, ranging from he killed her in a single blow, to three days of stalemate, until Klimon cheated, or that Vring tried to cheat, and forfeited. However it happened, Klimon won, and took power. His first act was to do away with Vring’s tribe and loyal followers, an act known as the Shearing. He even changed the name of the people, an act that would change the Vrinslen forever. From that day forward, they were called the Shear. They turned on their pirate trade partners, stole their ships, and took to the skies.

Using their natural propensity for violence, they quickly overtook the Fringe worlds. They never settled them, however, only leaving behind enough Shear to keep things in order, before moving on. Soon, they had their own small armada, and they were planning on using it. Klimon was smart, however, and patient. Since the Fringe is a lawless place, no one was surprised when pirates started disappearing. Klimon knew when he went into the Rings, it would be war. So he bided his time, waiting in the Fringe and sacking any merchant or transport ship he came across. When he felt he had enough resources, and enough subservient colonies in the Fringe, he began to push Ringward.

Klimon was careful to never take too much, weary of the Federal Navy coming down on their heads. The Shear were unbeatable on the ground, but their naval tactics were lacking. After nearly two centuries of rule, Klimon was killed in battle when the Federal Navy inevitably came for him.

After his death, Klimon’s daughter, Minslas’ Shear-Point, took command of the Shear. She quickly created the rank of General-King (approximate translation, verify before final draft). Minslas had her father’s smarts, but not his patience. She expanded Shear territory nearly ten-fold before her death at the hands of a Federal blockade. For nearly a millennium, the Shear were the scourge of the Outer Rings. The Federal Navy was unwilling to go to war with the Shear, for fear of their retalitions and the costs of an ongoing conflict. However, as the years stretched on, so did the resources that could be mined from within the Rings.

The purpose of the Expansions is to ensure that there are enough resources to go around. Due to the constant stalemate with the Shear, as well as their constant raids on material shipments, meant that the Inner Rings were starving for raw materials. This turned out to be enough to get the Federals to act. On (DATE), the Federal Navy, along with the Army and a selection of mercenary forces, began their war with the Shear. The initial assault would come to be known as the Red Sky, and the war overall would be called Brinslav Incident, and later the Shear’s War.

The Shear General-King during the Red Sky was Krummag’s Brine. The Shear were in the middle of on-loading stolen cargo when the Navy and Army arrived. Though the Shear ships outnumbered the Navy’s, it was a long and grueling battle. The Army had it even worse, fighting it out on the nearby planet of Kipples. Krummag was on planet when the fighting started. The army, with their mercenary reinforcements outnumbered the Shear there nearly twenty to one, but they were still unable to complete their objective: Seize the orbital cannons on the planet and stop them from firing on the Navy. Krummag’s forces were more than a match for the Army, but his ships did not fair so well. Even with the orbital cannons from Kipples, the Shear ships were overwhelmed and forced to retreat, abandoning their General-King. The Navy was quick to bomb the cannons off the face of the planet, killing Krummag in the assault, sending a clear message to the Shear forces. (expand on the war as a whole in the full dissertation)

Over the next two hundred years, the war was a stalemate. When either side gained ground, the other was quick to take it back. Many planets along the front are still uninhabitable to this day. Eventually, the federal government was desperate, and they devised a new plan. Over the course of the war, many General-Kings had risen to their position through battlefield prowess, only to be shortly thereafter killed on those same battlefields. The last General-King was Lyonses’ Eyes Pierce the Stars, and she ruled from the home planet, Brinslav. She had a more sickly stature than the rest of her people, and had earned her right to rule through cunning alone, a fact that was very politically divisive for her.

The new plan the federal gov had come up with was relatively simple; they were going to blow up Brinslav. How they were going to do it was much more tricky. Given the planet’s location relative to lay lines was a problem. It meant travel there was much more tricky, and also meant that any kind of magical device would have a reduced effect without that energy to draw on. (maybe cut down on the technobabble, eh, Jay?)

And thus Operation 78 was executed. A dumb bomb was launched from on of the Rings, and it was expected to impact the planet roughly 18 years after launch. During those years, the Federal government did everything it could to try and end the war before the bomb hit, but the Shear were just as determined, their pride on the line. On (DATE), the bomb hit Brinslav, completely destroying the entire planet, and a large portion of the surrounding solar system. The effects this had on the lay lines are still being researched today.

The feds expected this to either end the war outright, or severely limit the Shear’s ability to react and fight. Neither of this things happened. Instead, every ship inside the rings went apeshit(!), attacking the Federal Navy until the Shear vessel was completely annihilated, or unable to attack in any way. A few anecdotes even depict the warships firing escape pods (fuckin escape pods) as a means of attack. In every case, the crews would refuse to surrender, insulting the officers and resisting until they were put down. As the clean-up went on, the Federal Navy stopped going aboard to take prisoners, instead sinking the disabled ships from a safe distance.

Despite this, the ships outside of the Rings, in the Fringe, behaved differently. Instead of attacking, they retreated, seeking refuge away from Federal Navy, keeping to the Outer Fringe. Out of sight, out of mind, I guess.

With the Shear broken, the government was able to move forward with the Fifth Expansion. During this period, the remain Shear kept as far to the Fringe as they could, trying to figure out how to retrofit their warships into habitats. For another hundred years, the expansion went on, for another hundred years, the Shear slinking in the shadows, scraping to get by.

Then, the expansion hit upon another alien race; the Kuplinni. Everyone knows them, im not going to go into detail in the summary. Their invasion was quick, brutal, and relentless. Planet by planet, system by system, they pushed the Navy and Army back, eventually using the Rings against the government. Entire sections would be taken down for fear of the Kuplinni using it against them. The Navy couldn’t stop them, only slow them down.

Then, the unexpected happened. On the planet Ryuss, one of the first planets taken in the fifth expansion, an unknown vessel was spotted during a ground assault by the Kuplinni. It flew new colors; dark green, gold, and red. On the side of the massive dreadnought was “VALIANCE: AN OATH TO HONOR DUTY AND SACRIFICE’. It was a Shear vessel, fashioned from the cobbled together remains of their warships. It had no accompanying ships; it stood alone, apart from the Navy. Reports indicate that the Navy’s fleet was ordered to fire on the ship, but there were no guns to spare for the super dreadnought, as it would come to be classified as. It landed as many troops as it could spare, and the Shear and Army fought side by side against the Kuplinni. From then on, the Shear had a new name. They were called the Valiant.

The Navy, with support from the super dreadnought, and the Army, with help from the Valiant warriors managed to stop the Kuplinni at Ryuss and finally turn the tide. The next three hundred years were the mirror image of the Kuplinni invasion: the Valiant were instrumental in retaking the planets, and they were always the first boots on the planet and the last bullet fired.

Finally, the government and the Valiant had pushed the Kuplinni back to their home planet, Vryssis. The government wanted to quarantine them there, but the Valiant were unwilling to let that happen. Against the government's orders, the Valiant invaded Vryssis and slaughtered the last of their kind, ending the threat forever.

The slaughter did cost the Valiant dearly. All through the war, they had suffered far harder casualties than anyone else, and by the time they reached Vryssis, they were all but gone, the Valiance nearly a ghost ship, with entire sections of it non-operational. By the time the dust on Vryssis settled, there were only a few dozen Valiant left; too few to keep a viable gene pool going. After they were done, they all went their separate ways, finally tired of war.

Those that survived Vryssis were welcomed as heroes on the planets they had liberated, and they lived their lives there as kings. But, as they died off (their average life span is roughly 300 years), people slowly stopped remembering what they had done, what they had saved. Slowly, the name ‘Valiant’ became less popular, being replaced by Shear again. These days, that is all they are known as, and remembered primarily as vikings and pirates.

Blah blah in conclusion yadda yadda whatever.

Note- address rumors of Valiant sleeper cells and cryopod experiments

Im gonna go pass out now

[spnrelatedurl]

Stay Beautiful - Chapter 3

A/N: The response for this series has been incredible so far, and there’s only been 2 chapters. So, to reward you guys for your kind words, may I present to you; Chapter 3! Seriously though, thank you so much for everything. It means a lot that you guys are reading this, let alone taking time out of your day to say something kind about it. You guys ROCK! I hope you enjoy this very angsty chapter! :D

Trigger Warnings: Kidnap, Missing Child, suicide mention

Word count: 1825

Tag List:  @winchesters-favorite-girl @winchester-writes @storyofawinchester @rosie-winchester @bea789  @inkedinpastel @alicat-life @wayward-marvel-sommer1196 @straightasdeanwinchester @unicorndreamer1622 @internationalmusicteacher@xdsockmonkey @lolawinchesterr

I was at the City of Austin police station.

Morgan had gone. Jared had gone. All of the Padalecki’s and their friends, the Ackles’ and Collins’ had gone.

I’d been talking to an FBI agent for the last two hours. Kinda funny really, considering my possible father poses as one sometimes on the show he’s in. Ava Alexander was a tall woman with a long, horsey face. I liked her. She listened carefully to every word I had to say, then asked me questions in a sympathetic inflection.

She went away for a bit, then came back to tell me that my parents were being looked for in both New York and around England. I knew this was good news. But my mind was still on my meeting with the Padalecki’s. I kept trying to match the sad-eyed Jared with the image I had of him in my mind, holding me as a baby. Was that really the same man?

“Kendra?”

I looked up. Ava stretched out her long legs.

“You have to understand,” she said. “There’s two separate issues here. The whole business of you maybe being stolen from your birth family when you were a baby. That’s one. But then there’s also the possibility of your parents being involved and planning something else. Those are two separate crimes. Two different but overlapping investigations.”

“So what’s going to happen next?”

“You mean to you?” She stood up.

I nodded.

“We’ll keep you informed.” She said before leaving the room. I was left on my own again.

I curled up in my chair and rested my head on my arm. The seconds on the clock ticked by.

Jack must be so confused right now, and he probably hates my guts more than ever. Not that it could be by that much, and if my parents get sent down for this I don’t know if I could stand facing him with him knowing why.

And I needed time to think about the Padalecki’s. I must’ve been wrong about Jared. I must’ve. Surely, if Jared was my father, I would’ve felt something more when I saw him.

I closed my eyes. Tears prickled at the lids. The only person I could stand being around right now was Morgan and I didn’t really want to see her much either. I just wanted to be on my own.

The door opened and I turned to face who it was. Luckily it was only Morgan with Ava.

“Hey.” She greeted.

“Hi.” I said.

“So, any more info yet?” She asked, leaping into the chair opposite mine, strangely content. Almost upbeat.

“Not really. Just some stuff about two crimes my parents committed.” I sighed. “Morgan, even if this is all true, what’s gonna happen to Jack?”

“I thought you didn’t care about Jack?”

I let out a short groan.

“I mean, I hate him, sure. But he’s still my brother despite everything. And it wasn’t his fault. I don’t know.” I said.

“Listen, girls, there are some practical issues we need to discuss.” She said, standing in the corner of the room with her arms folded and a file in her hand.

“Like what?” Morgan asked.

“Well, so far we have no actual evidence that you were kidnapped at all, or if it was your parents who did it, Kendra. But if they did kidnap you as a baby, it would give them all the more reason to try and make your disappearance permanent.” She said. I shook my head.

“No. I mean, my dad’s a harmless person. My mum’s organised, sure, but she wouldn’t be able to organise a murder. She’s not like that. She’s so squeamish that even the mere drop of blood would be enough to send her into a frenzy. Besides all of that, they kidnapped me for a reason. They must want me, right?” I asked.

“Listen, we’re checking out all the details, but that’s going to take a bit of time. And, naturally, the Padalecki’s are all stirred up to know one way or the other.”

Ava cleared her throat. It was some awkward tension in the room when we suddenly realised the Padalecki’s are the true victims here.

“There is one way to speed all this up, however.” She paused. “A DNA test.”

The test took less than a minute. The nurse who checked me over when we came into the station was the same nurse who took a swab and stuck it in my mouth and swiped it against my cheek. She said the results would be ready tomorrow. I couldn’t believe something so big rested on something so quick and easy to do.

The FBI let Morgan and I go to a hotel – with police supervision, of course – and once we got in our room, Morgan’s parents were there to greet her.

“You stupid, stupid…” Her mum sniffed. “I’m just so glad you’re okay. Both of you.”

She pulled me into the hug too. Little did I know, that was exactly what I needed. I’ve always loved Morgan’s family. I’ve been a little jealous of them if truth be told. They were the perfect family who loved each other more than anything. They were so close-knit it actually made me jealous most of the time.

“Listen, how’s about we get some room service and watch some TV?” Her dad suggested. Morgan and I smiled and nodded our heads.

“Look, your father and I know it’s a big day tomorrow, and we want to have a chat, so we’ll leave you to order whatever you want – within reason – and we’ll be back before you know it.” Morgan’s mum said.

Once our food came Morgan switched on the TV. She’s a bit of a news fan. I’ve never figured out why. It’s all horrible most of the time, and the most uplifting stories are usually the ones involving animals or an overachiever.

I just picked at my food, trying to ignore the endless drone of the TV. Too many thoughts were crowding in on me. All the stuff about mum and dad possibly being arrested, the DNA test I have to look forward to. What would it mean if I really was Chloe Padalecki?

I’d only ever thought of my birth family as some kind of fantasy before. Some place I could turn to when it suited me. A whole alternate life that changed depending on my mood. Now I’ve met the Padalecki’s, I’d painfully realised there was a whole family reality behind my fantasy. A family reality I wasn’t entirely sure I wanted to face.

I tried to distract myself by flicking crumbs at Morgan, but she just laughed then brushed it off, getting increasingly less interested by the second.

“Why don’t you just watch this with me?” She said as she turned back to the news.

The police came in at about 10 o’clock, when Morgan was asleep and I was pretending to be too.

As the night wore on my thoughts became darker and more insistent. When I turned away from one, another pushed its way into my head. I found myself imagining how upset Jared and my still imaginary mother must’ve been when they realised I was missing. Then it was my parents – I saw them in my mind’s eye waiting and watching outside my hotel door. Then I tried remembering that the police were there so it would be fine.

Get a grip, Kendra.

I slept a little, then woke up when it was getting light. I lay on my back, quietly giggling at the sound of Morgan lightly snoring. She always joked about how I snore like a little bear. For that second, everything was normal again. Then my thoughts intruded on me again.

If I was the Padalecki’s daughter, what would that mean? They would want to see me again – which is fine, I was curious about them too. But it wasn’t going to be easy.

Suppose they call me Chloe?

Suppose Jared expects me to call him dad?

There was a rap at the door. Morgan snorted herself awake making me smile, but I got up to answer it nonetheless.

“Good, you’re up. Not because of me, I hope.” Ava Alexander strode in with a coffee and some pieces of paper.

“No, you’re alright.” I answered.

“Speak for yourself.” Morgan yawned.

I looked around for a clock. 6:30 am. Why was Ava waking us up this early? And where were Morgan’s parents?

“Your DNA results,” she spoke.

But in that moment, I knew before she told me.

“According to the test there’s a greater than 99.9% chance you’re the biological offspring of Jared.”

So, in other words no doubt at all.

After all this time and effort into finding out where I came from, I thought I would feel excited. Or afraid. Or at least relieved.

But I felt nothing.

Morgan put her hand on my shoulder and squeezed it sympathetically.

“What does that mean for me now?” I asked.

“Well, in normal situations there’d be a foster home. Then-” She answered.

“What? A foster home?”

“They’d be good people, Kendra,” she patted my knee. “Properly vetted by the state and-“

“But I don’t want to live with strangers!” I said adamantly.

“Listen, you’re not letting me finish. I said, normally the state would find foster carers for you. But this is not a normal situation. The Padalecki’s know about the DNA result. My guess is that they’re going to get a family court judge to approve a ‘best interest placement’.” She said.

“What does that mean?” I asked, leaning against Morgan. I couldn’t believe this was happening.

“The Padalecki’s are most likely going to get themselves approved as temporary foster parents,” Ava smiled. “They’re wealthy people, with good standing in the community. If they can get social services to rush through the necessary criminal background checks and stuff, and persuade a judge you’d be better off with them than anyone else, then you could stay with them until the permanent orders are issued, and, if your adoptive parents didn’t kidnap you, then they would fight your adoptive parents for custody.”

I stared at her blankly.

“What about my birth mum? I don’t know a thing about her.” I said. She sighed sadly.

“I was told if you asked I should be the one to tell you. Listen, once you were kidnapped your mother took it bad. Really, really bad. She… well… she’s not with us anymore.” She said. Tears were already dripping down my cheeks.

“That’s it? That’s all I get? I have to live with this family I don’t know and that’s all I get about my dead mum? That she offed herself years ago?” I asked angrily. Ava sighed, standing up, getting ready to leave the room.

“Look at it this way, Kendra.” She said, putting on her coat. “After 18 years, you’d finally be going home.”

[stacks-reviews]

New Releases 10/3/17

Happy New Release Day! 

In Books --The Name of the Wind 10th Anniversary Deluxe Edition by Patrick Rothfuss “My name is Kvothe. I have stolen princesses back from sleeping barrow kings. I burned down the town of Trebon. I have spent the night with Felurian and left with both my sanity and my life. I was expelled from the University at a younger age than most people are allowed in. I tread paths by moonlight that others fear to speak of during day. I have talked to Gods, loved women, and written songs that would make the minstrels weep. You may have heard of me. So begins a tale unequaled in fantasy literature - the story of a hero told in his own voice. It is a tale of sorrow, a tale of survival, a tale of one man’s search for meaning in his universe, and how that search, and the indomitable will that drove it, gave birth to a legend.”

This book more than likely did not require me to provide a description. But I just love the description so much that I just had to put it up. This is my current top favorite book. I really love it and I am very excited to see an anniversary edition for it. I have been wanting to retire my mass market paperback for a while. I did get to meet Pat at a book signing a few years back and got that copy signed, as well as my copy of The Wise Man’s Fear, and my hardcover of A Slow Regard of Silent Things. I’ve been wanting to retire these signed copies so that nothing happens to them so this anniversary edition is just what I’ve been waiting for. At least until I can meet him again and get this one signed.

This edition has a new cover by designer Paul Buckley and artist Sam Weber. I’m not crazy about the cover. I prefer the standard cover used now. I’m having some trouble trying to understand just what all the images represent in the story so that’s what is really making me not like it as much. There is also some never before seen illustrations by artist Dan Dos Santos. Nate Taylor created a updated and detailed map of the world. An appendix of the calendar system, the currencies, and a pronunciation guide was added. And Pat wrote a new author’s note for this edition.

As of this writing (around 10:30pm Monday) it has not arrived at any of the bookstores near me but I have seen where it it out at other locations. I’m hoping it will arrive near me sometime today. Then I guess I’ll have to plan a fourth (or maybe a fifth. I don’t remember) reread of it soon.

--Anime Supremacy! by Mizuki Tsujimura “Japanese animation - the globally acclaimed, family-friendly theatrical features are the exception rather than the rule for a TV-oriented industry that has been pushed into late-night slots in an era of fragmented audiences. When only three titles among fifty might turn a profit, topping the charts is hardly an overambitious aim. Yet as three women, a producer, a director, and an animator, survive in a business infamous for its murderous schedules, demoralizing compromises, and incorrigible men, moments of uplift emerge against all odds - and how. More than just a window into an entertainment niche, here’s a kickass ode to work.”

A new; though only volume, manga about the animation industry in Japan. It sounds like a good look into this industry and it follows three women as they try to make their way in an industry full of ‘incorrigible’ men. Which this might be the first manga to follow women in this industry. I’m not positive but I’m fairly sure most of the manga that has used this type of story has mainly followed men. I can think of maybe one or two that has some ladies but I can’t recall for sure.

--Assassination Classroom Volume 18 by Yusei Matsui “Nagisa and Karma travel to the International Space Station in hopes of learning the secret to saving Koro Sensei’s life. Meanwhile, Yanagisawa and the upstart Grim Reaper II train ever harder to assassinate him. Then, when academic setbacks lower the spirits of his students, Koro Sensei comes up with an ingenious - or perhaps idiotic - way to cheer them up. Next, Valentine’s Day arrives! Will any of the 3-E students or teachers find true love? And will the meddling and teasing of the others help or hinder Cupid’s arrow in finding its target...?”

I’m reading this volume right now. But in Volume 17 Nagisa and Karma faced off in their fight to determine if they should save or assassinate Koro Sensei. Nagisa won and they learned that information about Koro Sensei was on the ISS that could potentially help them save his life. It ended with Nagisa and Karma sneaking into a rocket prototype to retrieve said information. Which was handed over fairly easily in this volume. The part with Yanagisawa and the Grim Reaper were short which is for the best to keep us wondering what they will try to do to kill Koro Sensei. I last left off during the start of the Valentine’s Day chapters which I will finish sometime today.

--Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban Illustrated Edition by J.K. Rowling and illustrated by Jim Kay Finally! I love the illustrations in these editions and just how full and how many are used in them. PoA is my favorite of this series, mainly because of this is when we are introduced to Sirius (my favorite) and Lupin.

Though as the rest of these are released I start to wonder how much longer they will be released as a single volume. At some point; either for money or for the binding of the books, they will probably be split into volumes. For my bookshelf’s well-being, I hope that is not the case but it could happen.

--The Last Namsara by Kristen Ciccarelli “In the beginning, there was the Namsara: the child of sky and spirit, who carried love and laugher wherever he went. But where there is light, there must be dark - and so there was also the Iskari. The child of blood and moonlight. The destroyer. The death bringer. These are the legends that Asha, daughter of the king of Firgaard, has grown up hearing in hushed whispers, drawn to the forbidden figures of the past. But it isn’t until she becomes the fiercest, most feared dragon slayer in the land that she takes on the role of the next Iskari - a lonely destiny that leaves her feeling more like a weapon than a girl. Asha conquers each dragon and brings its head to the king, but no kill can free her from the shackles that await her at home: her betrothal to the cruel commandant, a man who holds the truth about her nature in his palm. When she’s offered the chance to gain her freedom in exchange for the life of the most powerful dragon in Firgaard, she finds that there may be more truth to the ancient stories than she ever could have expected. With the help of a secret friend - a slave boy from her betrothed’s household - Asha must shed the layers of her Iskari bondage and open her heart to love, light, and a truth that has been kept from her.”

I have a few questions regarding this book. Mainly revolving around the Namsara since it isn’t mention again in the description except in the beginning. Is Asha’s betrothed the only one who knows that she is the Iskari? If so, is she being blackmailed into marrying him? My theory right now is that by killing all these dragons it makes her the Iskari but since light and dark are two sides of the same coin, she has the possibility to turn into the Namsara. Cause I expect the legends to end up saying that it was the same person.  It sounds like it could be pretty good. There’s dragons, fights with dragons (don’t kill dragons cause they are awesome), and the classic light vs dark. 

--The Water Dragon’s Bride Volume 3 by Rei Toma “Unable to return home, Asahi grows into a lovely young woman. As a priestess, she must spend time with the water dragon god for a ritual every year, but because of her connection to the water dragon god’s power, someone kidnaps her! Will Asahi be able to escape unscathed?”

Such a cute and still surprisingly dark series. The first two volumes were kind of dark because her best friends; Subaru, mother tried to have her killed a few times. And the water dragon god didn’t care if she lived or died. He only really intervened when the other gods started annoying him. 

This volume came out early where I live so I read it over the weekend. The volume was mostly about Asahi being kidnapped, then rescued by Subaru, which then started a war between her village and the one that kidnapped her. The water dragon god does sorta intervere and helps them out a little. But he slowly seems to be changing and might eventually develop feelings for Asahi. Which will interesting since Subaru obviously loves her and she him. Though she may not realize that herself yet. 

--Yona of the Dawn Volume 8 by Mizuho Kusanagi “Jaeha, the Green Dragon, joins Yona’s party after their harrowing adventure together in Awa. Now the group must find the Yellow Dragon - the last dragon from the prophecy that Ik-su told Yona! Meanwhile, Su-won visits Chishin Palace and tells General Geun-tae, chief of the Earth Tribe, that he should hold a mock battle and festival. But what could be the true intent behind Su-won’s proposition?”

I think the last volume I read was six. Seven never came in near where I live and I haven’t been able to order it. Last I read was Yona and Yoon got themselves onto the pirates boat so that they could try and send a signal for the others to attack the right boat. 

I can’t wait to see what the Yellow Dragon is like and I’m interested to see what this mock battle will be about.

In Movies --Revolutionary Girl Utena Set 1 (Blu-Ray) “‘Never lose that strength or nobility, even when you grow up.’ When Utena was just a child and in the depths of sorrow, she found salvation in those words. They were the words of a prince, who wrapped her in his rose-scented embrace and bestowed upon her both a ring and the promise that it would lead her to him again. She never forgot the encounter. In fact, she was so impressed that she aspired to like the prince and also help those in need. Now a spirited teenager, Utena attends the prestigious Ohtori Academy. However, her strong sense of chivalry soon places her at odds with the school’s student council and thrusts her into a series of mysterious and dangerous duels against its members.”

For the first time the hit anime is being released on blu-ray. I have only seen the series and the movie once. One of my friends can explain it a lot better than I can. The next time I watch it I will not be putting so much time in between each season. There is a lot of symbolism throughout the show so it can be easy to forget or miss something. It is a really good show and worth checking out. The manga of the same name (by Chiho Saito) that it was based on is also available in an awesome box set that was released by Shojo Beat. 

This set contains the first twelve episodes. Set two is not street dated until 11/7/17 but is now available on Rightstuf. Set three is set for 12/5/17, might also be out before that day but not at this moment of writing, and includes the movie. There is also a box set coming out on 12/5/17 that contains the complete series, the movie, a replica Rose Crest Ring, a replica Black Rose ring, and a 264 page art book with sliver foil numbering.

[threeorphanpilgrimage]

Chapter 66 - Tulsa

"Have you ever seen anything like this?" asked Sin.

"They sure as hell didn't put up any signs in Miami," answered Patty.

"The only signs we ever saw in Houston were ones warning people to keep away," added Jet.

"We sorta saw one like this in Baton Rouge, on the side of a truck they used to block the bridge," said Sarah. "But it said 'Turn off your engine and don't move' or something."

"Just because it ain't telling us to fuck off doesn't mean it's good news," interjected Anthony as he adjusted the strap of his machine gun. "I mean, if I wanted to set up an ambush, I'd leave a sign like this hanging in front of the biggest highway into town."

Clementine kept rereading the words of the weathered banner strung up on the overpass ahead of them: DOWNTOWN TULSA ABANDONED - FOLLOW SIGNS TO CITADEL. The crudely painted letters had faded and the white tarp they had been written on fluttered in the cold wind along with a few of its ropes that had come undone. Beyond it, there were nothing to suggest anyone had been here since the start of the outbreak, just more fields of grass killed by the winter surrounding a now desolate highway.

"Clem, you ever see any towns with signs posted outside with something like this on them?" asked Patty. "Instructions on where to go?"

"No, but I saw some that said 'stay out' for a neighborhood in Georgia," recalled Clem. "They also piled up walkers to block the road, and left a few alive stuck on spikes."

"Shaffer's did that?" asked Patty.

"No, this was another place in Georgia I never want to go back to."

"Shaffer's had a huge wall; Valkaria had a barricade of cars blocking the road," listed Sarah. "We always see stuff trying to keep things out, not invite people in."

"All the more reason to think these people put up a friendly welcome sign to guide gullible dopes into a trap," stated Anthony. "What better bait than sending out a rumor that they were the one safe place left on the planet."

"So what exactly do you suggest then?" asked Sin, his normally stone-faced expression faltering as he spoke. "We came all this way, just to turn around once we actually got here?"

"The lead up to Tulsa hasn't exactly been encouraging," said Patty. "Clem and I had to hack our way through a few walkers yesterday just exploring the outskirts. There wasn't many of them, but it's not a good sign, especially considering there wasn't a speck of food to find either."

"That lack of food means people are here, collecting it," concluded Sin.

"There probably were," spoke Clem in a disappointed voice. "But if there are walkers this close to town, there's probably no one left or they'd kill them anytime they went out."

"Yeah, when I left Miami, I didn't start running into the dead until I got as far as Boca Raton," added Patty. "The troops were always having to push further away from the heart of town to find more food, and they always killed any stray walkers that would wander in each time."

"It was the same for Valkaria," added Sarah. "The road leading up to them was just completely empty. The closest we found a lurker was at a gas station far away from town, and Clem killed it."

"So we should just leave then?" asked an irritated Sin.

"I didn't say that," insisted Patty. "But, going into Tulsa is a risk, and odds are we're not going to get anything out of it."

Sin slowly eyed the entire group, seeking out possible supporters perhaps. Clem wish she could muster a more uplifting expression to show the man, but everything she had seen suggested they were still no closer to safety. Even Jet appeared discouraged, a small frown tugging at the corners of his mouth as he stared down at the cracked asphalt.

"I'll go alone," Sin suddenly volunteered. "It was my idea, so I should—"

"I'll come with you," insisted Patty, sounding reluctant. "Everyone else can lag behind a bit, in case something happens, just like we did on our approach to the outskirts of town."

"Granddad, maybe we should…"

"Stay with Clementine and Sarah for now," Sin instructed Jet. "You'll be safer with them than with us."

"Oh… okay," conceded Jet.

"Anthony, give Sin your gun, he might need it." Anthony passed the older man the weapon and received a holstered pistol in return, which he clipped to his belt. "We'll follow wherever the hell these signs lead us and call out what we see on the radio."

"Be careful," said Clem as she walked up to Patty.

"Don't worry partner," she said as she leaned in to pat Clem on the back. "This already looks a lot more inviting than New Orleans."

"You've got that ankle gun right?" asked Clem in a whisper.

"Yeah," confirmed Patty. "Hopefully, I won't need it."

"Any chance I could get that big rifle?" Clem backed away from Patty and saw Anthony looking at them. "In case something finds us while you're scouting ahead."

"It only has six bullets," retorted Clem. "And we don't have any more."

"But you had bullets for that thing?" asked Anthony as he pointed to the machine gun Sin was holding.

"It uses nine-millimeters," informed Sarah. "None of the bullets we have are the same as the ones in the automatic rifle though."

"Oh…" Anthony shrugged. "Still, it's better than just a pistol, the rifle has a scope on it at least."

"Go ahead," Patty told Clem. "If something happens, he might need to bail us out."

"All right." Clem turned around and headed back to the Brave, which was parked on the road alongside Sin's RV and Anthony's truck right behind them. She retrieved the automatic rifle from their closet, then made sure its safety was on before loading it with a nearly empty magazine. Heading back out, Clem noticed Patty just a few feet away in front of one of the Brave's storage compartments.

"What are you getting?" asked Clem as she moved closer.

"Insurance." Clem watched as Patty removed a grenade from the green metal box she kept them stored in. "Hope I won't need it either."

"Me too." Patty stored the grenade in her bag and then locked the compartment. She handed Sarah the keys as they returned to the group while Clem passed Anthony the rifle.

"If you have to use it, don't put it on auto," she said.

"Sure," shrugged Anthony as he threw the gun over his shoulder.

"Keep your radios on," said Patty as she walked with Sin to his RV. "If you hear any trouble, and then don't hear from us… just turn back." Clem watched as Patty disappeared into the RV, which then pulled forward and through the underpass. Feeling Sarah tug on her sleeve, Clem returned to the Brave with her and Jet.

"I should have gone with him," Jet said the second Clem locked the door.

"He didn't want you to," assured Clem as she approached the boy.

"Yeah, but I didn't say anything because I was scared," he confessed.

"It's okay to be scared," assured Sarah.

"Is it? My granddad might die and I didn't even say I would help him." Sarah didn't seem to know how to respond to Jet, nor did Clem either.

"Bree-bree." Everyone turned to find Omid dragging a picture book behind him as he emerged from the bedroom.

"I—"

"I'll read to him," insisted Jet. "You both have more important things to do." Jet picked up the book and then led the toddler back to the bedroom.

Despite what Jet said, Clem couldn't think of anything she urgently needed to do herself. She checked to make sure the volume on her radio was turned up, then sat down next to Sarah. Looking over at her friend, she noticed the older girl was watching Anthony through the windshield. The young man was just leaning against the hood of his truck, apparently undisturbed by the cold.

"You okay?" asked Clem.

"I just worry about him," said Sarah.

"Anthony?"

"Yeah."

"I don't."

"I really wish you'd stop saying that."

Clem was surprised by the harshness in Sarah's voice. "I'm sorry, but I really don't. He's a jerk to Patty."

"She's not nice to him either."

"He slapped her butt," reminded Clem.

"You did that to me," reminded Sarah.

"What? When?"

"Back at that mall we stopped at. When I bent over to pick up that toy sword, you slapped me with yours."

"I… I was just playing," insisted Clem.

"Well, maybe so was Anthony," reasoned Sarah.

Clem became silent for a moment as she noticed Sarah was still looking out at Anthony. "If I ever do anything you don't like, you can just tell me to stop and I wouldn't ever do it again. You know that?" Sarah was still looking out the window, but Clem could tell from the way her eyes were wandering that she was thinking. "Did me doing that make you mad like it did Patty?"

"Not that…" said Sarah.

"What then."

"Well…"

"Just tell me."

"It kind of made me mad that you and Patty decided all this stuff about who goes where and how much food everyone gets without even talking to me about it." Finally turning to look at Clem, the younger girl found herself disturbed by the clear signs of discontent on Sarah's face. It was subtle, like the way her eyebrows were slightly scrunched up, but knowing she caused even that made Clem feel guilty.

"I'm sorry," said Clem immediately. "I was just trying to find a way to makes things better for Patty, and we just kept talking until we figured out something that sounded fair. We didn't mean to plan that stuff without you."

"I know, I know," assured Sarah as her expression softened. "I guess it just bothers me you're going on supply trips again, and you didn't tell me first. Maybe we could have figured something else out."

"Like what? Taking turns with each other?"

"I… I don't know," admitted Sarah in an unusually pained voice.

"Well if you ever think of anything you want me to do, just tell me."

"Well, there is one thing. I really wish you would be nicer to Anthony."

Clem groaned in frustration. "You know he didn't just slap her butt. I told you about all those jokes he was making and—"

"I know, and Anthony said he wouldn't do stuff like that to Patty again."

"After we asked him to stop like a hundred times."

"I know, and he was wrong, but I still feel bad for him."

"Why?"

"Because so many people have been bad to him. There were the ones he told us about at Gulf Port, he said his mom hated him, and then he was homeless, and then the lurkers," recalled Sarah. "And even now he really doesn't have anyone. We've got each other and Patty and Omid; Sin and Jet have each other; but he's still alone, even when he's with us."

"I guess so." Clem looked out the windshield at Anthony. The young man was now lying on the hood of his vehicle, idly fiddling with the rifle in his hands with a bored look on his face.

"I think if he just had a friend, he'd be nicer."

"If he wants a friend, he should act nicer."

"Maybe if we're nicer he'd be nicer."

"We were already nice to him a lot."

"Patty aimed a gun at him."

"Because he wouldn't leave her alone."

"I know, but… could you just try to be nice to him, for me?"

"I don't—"

"I know it's not fair you have to be nice after he was mean to Patty, and if he keeps acting like a jerk after that you can stop, but could you please try?" begged Sarah. "If you were nice to him, maybe he'd realize we care about him and stop acting like the way he was. I mean if he's going to stay, it'd be better if we were all friends."

"I don't think he wants to be friends," said Clem. "But I'll try, for you."

"Thanks Clem," said Sarah before taking a deep breath. "I just wish we could all get along."

"Yeah, me too."

"Seeing Patty aim that gun at Anthony… it made me think about that night at the ranger station, when I woke up and dad was aiming a gun at Christa, and she was aiming a gun at him."

"Yeah, stuff like that happens a lot now," spoke a weary Clem.

"I remember when we didn't have to worry about people pointing guns at each other when they got mad."

"I barely do anymore. Things from before just feel like a dream now."

"Really?"

"Yeah, not having to worry about food all the time, or monsters, or people trying to kill us… none of it even feels real anymore."

"Guys?" Clementine grabbed her radio in a flash.

"Yeah?"

"We're a few miles down the highway and there's still more of these damn signs pointing us ahead," reported Patty. "You guys might want to go ahead and start following us, it might be a little while before we get to wherever the hell we're going."

"Have you seen anything yet?"

"Suburbs, trees, and empty space so far. No citadels that I can tell."

"I'm telling you, this is a trap," said Anthony.

"Possibly, but judging from the occasional walker and the state of the things we're passing, I'd say it's more likely this place is just abandoned."

Clem sighed upon hearing that.

"We'll start following behind you," reported Sarah. "That way if anything happens we can get to you sooner." Sarah turned the key and the Brave's engine churned a few times but didn't start. "Come on." Sarah had to turn the key twice more before the RV finally started. Soon after they heard Anthony's truck starting right beside them, and then both vehicles drove forward.

Just traveling through the underpass, the group discovered a line of cars blockading most of the road. It wasn't nearly as long or elaborate as the one used at Valkaria, and they could easily go around it if they wanted to. It's only purpose seemed to be to guide people towards the lane leading to the on-ramp, where a road sign reading exit had been painted to say 'citadel' instead. Leaning in for a better look as they drove onward, Clem saw the surrounding area was exactly as Patty described; trees, suburbs, empty space, and nothing else she hadn't seen before.

After a couple of miles, Clem spotted a large building coming up on their right. She sat up and examined the parking lot for signs of life. Sarah must have been looking as well since the Brave started to slow down. But there was nothing but parked cars strewn across the lot, with no signs of where their owners went or what this place was for. Turning back to the road, Clem found herself grimacing at an overhead sign that read 'New Orleans St.' And next to it was another sign pointing straight ahead with the word 'citadel' sprayed painted over it.

"Kem-men." Clementine turned around to see Omid walking towards the front of the RV. "Sah-duh."

"I tried to read him another book," said Jet as he followed behind the toddler. "But he just keeps saying your names… I think."

"Did you miss us?" asked Clem in a sweet voice as she picked up Omid.

"Kem-men," he repeated with a smile.

"You feeling all right?" asked Clem as she gently brushed back Omid's hair. "Your head feel okay?"

Clem briefly examined what remained of the bruise on the boy's forehead. As she did, she felt Omid's hand on her face, likely imitating what she was doing.

"Do you see anything yet Granddad?" Clem heard Jet ask his radio.

"Your granddad is driving," answered Patty. "But so far it's just a lot more of the same. We're still seeing signs that say 'citadel' on it, so we haven't missed it yet."

"All right." Jet put his radio down and looked right at Clementine. "Do you think we'll find anything?"

Clem considered Jet's question carefully while Omid continued to touch her face. "Probably not," she finally admitted.

"But we might," interjected Sarah. "All these signs means there were people here."

"Were," repeated a disappointed Jet. "If we don't find anything, where do we go next?"

"I… I don't know," admitted Clem.

"Well, where were you guys going before Tulsa?" asked Jet.

"We were going west because someone told us they saw planes going that way," said Clem. "And that's when we met you and your granddad."

"Oh, that's right," said Jet. "And before that, you went to New Orleans, and you said there was nothing there either."

"Yeah, and before that—ow!"

"Mah-bah," said Omid as he tugged at Clem's hair.

"OJ, no!" scolded Clem as she pried Omid's hand away.

"Here, I'll hold him," said Jet as he pulled the toddler away.

"What about you?" Clem asked Jet. "Where do you want to go?"

"To my parents," blurted out Jet. "But I don't even know where they are."

"Okay, I think I finally see this citadel thing," reported Patty. "The signs had us turn off the interstate and now we're heading north to this… weird ass office building I think."

"What's weird about it?" asked Clem.

"The design is just kind of odd, it's gold with white trim," said Patty. "And it looks like the only tall building in the area."

"Do you see anyone yet?" asked Sarah. "Or signs that people are here?"

"Not yet," said Patty. "I'll call back when we get closer."

"Be careful, both of you." Jet put his radio down and Clem watched as he slumped down in his seat. She tried to think of something comforting to say to him, but nothing came to mind.

"Ah-sah." Clem and Jet looked over to see Omid at the bottom of the steps pushing on the door.

"No!" Jet rushed over and grabbed the toddler while Clem checked to make sure the door was still locked. "I'm sorry, I put him down for a second to get my radio and—"

"It's okay," assured Clem as she lightly pushed against the door to test it, making certain it wasn't going to pop open. "It's okay."

"Ah-sah!" demanded Omid as Jet carried him away from the door.

"No, you can't go outside right now," lectured Clem.

"Ah-sah!" repeated Omid.

"Maybe… well probably not later either, we don't know much about this place," admitted Clem as she sat down.

"I was thinking we she should look for a farm." Clem and Jet looked over at Sarah. "I… I mean, I was thinking since we're already in Oklahoma, and it'll be spring in a couple of months, maybe we should just find a farm or something and grow our own food."

"That's… not a bad idea," realized Clem. "Sin even used to be a farmer."

"He was?" asked Jet.

"Yeah, he grew up on a farm," said Clem. "Didn't you know that?"

"No. How do you know that?"

"He… told me." Jet stared at Clem in disbelief.

"Well, anyway…" said Sarah, breaking the awkward silence. "We could find somewhere really isolated and far away from any of the major roads, so we wouldn't run into lurkers or people, and if we could grow enough food we could just… live there."

"I guess that sounds okay," shrugged Jet.

"It sounds great," said Clem. "Why haven't you ever told me you wanted to do this before?"

"Well, we'd need a lot of food just to get started," explained Sarah. "It would take a long time to grow crops, and we'd probably eat more than usual because of all the work. Remember how hard we worked on that garden all summer, and we only grew enough to eat for, like, a month, and we were still eating out of cans because there was so little of it."

"Yeah, I remember that. We did all that work and we didn't even get to eat a lot of it. Birds and bugs and the sun killed so much of it."

"Yeah, that's something else we'd have to figure out if we started a farm," said Sarah.

"The military wouldn't even let people grow their own food in Houston," said Jet. "If they saw you growing something in your yard, they'd take the whole plant away."

"Yeah, Patty said they did that in Miami, maybe because people like us would mess up if we did it ourselves," reasoned Clem.

"Even if we hadn't messed up," said Sarah. "What we were growing still wouldn't have been nearly enough for the winter, and there's seven of us now instead of three."

Clem sighed. "How come there was so much food before?

"I don't know," admitted Sarah.

"Me either," said Jet. "Maybe Granddad knows."

"Before they got messed up, I had been reading as much as I could about farming in our encyclopedias, but most of it wasn't very specific. I was hoping we could find some books about farming, but food's been so hard to find lately and—"

"Guys."

"Yeah Patty?" answered Clem.

"We're at the citadel." Everyone sat up upon hearing that, except Sarah, who was already busy guiding the Brave onto an exit ramp. "It's some kind of skyscraper with a big ass wall around it that was clearly built more recently than the rest of building."

The Brave banked to the right and then turned onto a small highway. They were now passing by abandoned restaurants, stores, and other places of business sandwiched between sporadic trees and empty fields; no different from the dozens of other small cities they had passed through. But looking straight ahead, Clem could see a literal tower far off in the distance, shining in the early morning sun.

"Weird…" said Jet.

"Yeah, it really is the only tall building around," said Clem.

"And we're still like ten miles from the center of Tulsa," added Sarah. "There shouldn't even be a big office building this far away."

"There are faded instructions painted on the wall," reported Sin over the radio. "Telling us to wait outside until someone comes out to meet us."

"But I kinda doubt there's anyone left inside to do that," said Patty.

"We can see a gate too, and it appears to be open," added Sin.

"We'll wait for a few minutes, see if anyone comes out, then we'll go inside," reported Patty. "I'd park it for now and wait on us. If this is a trap, no need for you guys to get any closer than you already are."

"All right." Sarah slowed the Brave to a stop at an intersection and shut off the motor. A second later Anthony's truck squeaked to a stop right behind them. Then everyone sat in silence for a moment as they stared out at the ominous gold tower in the distance.

"So, we just wait?" asked Jet.

"Pretty much," said Clem.

"I could put on some music," suggested Sarah.

"No. We need to be ready in case Patty calls back needing help," reasoned Clem. "Music would just make it harder for us to hear her, and easier for someone to hear us… if there is anyone."

"Yeah, you're right," conceded Sarah.

"So… we just wait." Jet's words were followed by silence. Everyone remained in their seats; eyes fixed on the alleged citadel, and ears alert for any possible calls for help.

"Wah-wah." Clem looked down to see Omid trying to pull free from Jet. "Wah-wah!"

"He must be thirsty," said Clem as she stood up. "I'll get him some water." Clem located the toddler's sippy cup and placed it in the sink. She turned on the faucet, and only creaking noises came out. "Come on." Clem lightly tapped on the spigot, which finally started producing water in short spurts. Clem looked aside at the window to her right as she waited for the cup to be filled.

All that was outside was another intersection, same as any other. There were cars pulled off to the side, signs of people once here who were now likely long gone. Small buildings whose windows and doors were broken out when they were looted. Dead trees throwing shadows over the withered grass in the areas bordering the cracked roads. The only thing of interest Clem noticed was a traffic light with a road sign that read 'Riverside'.

"Clem."

Clem looked down and realized the sippy cup was overflowing. "Oops," she said as she shut off the water. "Sorry, I was just looking at something."

"It's okay," said Sarah as she screwed the lid onto the cup.

"Wah-wah," demanded Omid as he walked up to the pair.

"Here you go," said Sarah as she handed the cup to the toddler, who eagerly began to drink from it.

"Sarah, do you think we can drive over to the road on the left? I think there's a bridge over there."

"Why do you want to go there?" asked Sarah.

"If there's a bridge, there's probably a river, and maybe we could see something if I went up top with the telescope. It'd be better than doing nothing."

"Yeah," concurred a bored Jet.

"I guess we might as well," said Sarah as she sat down in the driver's seat.

"Anthony," called Clem as she grabbed her radio off the counter. "We're going to drive over to the bridge across from us, see if we can get a view of the area from there."

"Okay, I'll be right behind you."

Clem paused as she moved to set her radio down. "And maybe you can help me?"

"Do what?" asked Anthony.

"Just, keep watch?" suggested Clem.

"Sure, why not." Clementine found Anthony's resigned tone concerning, but she didn't dwell on it. The girl retrieved her gun, knife, respirator and raincoat as quickly as she could. Seeing the bridge pull into view, Clem was relieved by the lack of anything dangerous in sight. The bridge didn't even have any abandoned vehicles left on it, let alone walkers. But inching ahead, she was troubled by the sight of a break ahead in the road.

"I think the bridge is out," noted Sarah as she slowed the Brave to a stop. "I'll park us back here, far away from where it might have broke."

"Good idea," said Clem as she went to pick up the telescope. "This probably won't take long. I'm just gonna see if there's anything on the river and then come back." As the girl grappled with the telescope, she noticed Jet approaching her.

"Maybe I should go with you," he suggested as helped Clem carry the telescope to the door. "I could, I don't know, keep watch or something."

"It's okay," assured Clem. "I already asked Anthony to do that."

"You did? I thought you didn't like that guy."

"I don't," said Clem in a hushed voice. "But Sarah thinks maybe if we're nicer to him, he wouldn't be such a jerk. And she's right about us trying to get along if we're going to stay together."

"Okay, I just get sick of feeling so useless all the time," admitted Jet.

"You're—"

"Not useless? I guess not, but you can do so much more than me… and you're younger."

"You only left home like a week ago," reminded Clem. "I spent over three months living at a hotel before Lee taught me to use a gun, and I hated it."

"Really?" asked Jet.

"Yeah, and I still don't like using a gun, or all this other stuff we have to," admitted Clem as they carried the telescope towards the door.

"But you still do it," said Jet as they set the telescope down. "I… I don't know if I could."

"Just… stay here," instructed Clem. "There's no reason all of us should go out."

Clem turned to the door when she felt a hand grab hers. "Be careful…" pleaded Sarah, sounding more worried than usual.

"The bridge is empty, and I'm just looking around. I'll be fine."

"I know it's just…" Sarah took a breath. "Just be careful."

"I will."

"Muh…" Omid moved towards Clem, then backed away and whimpered slightly.

"I love you too OJ," assured Clem as she grabbed the telescope. "And I'll hug you once I take off this stinky raincoat."

Clem bounded outside, finding Anthony standing near the front of the bridge. She set the telescope down and inched over to the young man, who hadn't even bothered donning his raincoat. Stopping near the end of the bridge, it looked much like the one they had seen outside of New Orleans. The road just stopped suddenly and there was a large chunk of it missing, as if something had just crudely snapped off a piece of the bridge. And about thirty feet below, Clem could see the river calmly churning along.

Looking over at Anthony, he seemed just as curious about the bridge as Clem did. "What do you think happened?" she asked him. "You think the military did this?"

"Who else," he mumbled. "Not much for me to keep watch for up here."

"Yeah." Clem couldn't ignore the discontent look on Anthony's face as he stared off into the distance. It wasn't subtle like Sarah, he was clearly unhappy. "Um… you could help me take the telescope up the ladder, if you want."

"Sure, why the hell not." Anthony walked over to the Brave and grabbed the telescope, then kept walking towards the back. Clem followed after him and started climbing the ladder, trying to keep up. Anthony's tone had been oddly quiet and dejected since she and Patty confronted him over his behavior. Clem found it a relief at first, but after a couple of days, it was beginning to concern her, and she was starting to see why Sarah was worried.

After reaching the top, Clem noticed Anthony had already set up the telescope near the edge of the RV. "Thanks," she said. "I—" Anthony turned around quickly and sat down on the opposite edge of the RV. Seeing him literally turn his back on her, Clem felt obligated to say something. She still didn't exactly feel bad for Anthony like Sarah did, but she realized saying nothing wouldn't improve the situation either.

"I know you're probably still mad at me and Patty," she started as she pulled her respirator down to speak more clearly. "But I wanted to tell you we appreciate everything you've done for us, like teaching us how to fish and going to look for food, and we do care about you and want to be friends with you."

Anthony made no answer, and remained so still it made Clem wonder if he was even hearing her. "Are you mad because it looks like Tulsa is probably not going be safe either? It's bothering me too; it's bothering everyone. Jet was even asking what should we do next, and I have no idea. What about you? Where do you want to go?"

Still no answer. Clem wasn't sure if he was ignoring her, or if he simply had no idea what do himself. Or maybe the smell of her raincoat made him not want to open his mouth. In either case, she didn't see a point in talking to someone who wouldn't talk back. Clem put her respirator back on, then moved over to the telescope and looked through the eyepiece.

Examining the citadel in the distance, Clem saw it was actually composed of three office buildings. The main tower was about twice as the tall as the second building, which was a little taller then third building. All three of them had bright golden exteriors with massive white borders that would connect each side to the next at an odd angle. She couldn't be sure, but these buildings all appeared to have three sides, instead of four. Between the sun reflecting off the exterior and its strange design, the structure resembled a temple more than an office building, but Clem doubted there was any salvation to be found there.

Turning away from the citadel, Clem spotted a couple of short buildings on the river, and behind them was a taller and more lavish building. Looking closely, she could see even taller cranes behind that; monuments to that what would never be finished. Looking further to the left was just open water until she found the leafless trees planted on the other shore. Focusing on what may have been a small hotel in the distance, Clem suddenly saw something moving in its parking lot.

"I think I see someone," she announced as she tried to get a better at look at what was creating the movement. "I see them, they're…" Even from this distance, Clem recognized the familiar shuffle of a walker. It was ambling about aimlessly as at least two more stumbled into view. "It's just walkers. It's always—" Turning away from the telescope in frustration, Clementine found herself colliding with Anthony and then being pushed backwards.

"Oh shit!" She heard Anthony yell as she felt herself falling. "Clem!"

Clementine could briefly see Anthony reaching out for her and she tried to grab his hand, only to be yanked away by gravity. Anthony, the RV, even the bridge itself, it all shrunk away in the blink of an eye before disappearing into darkness as Clem felt herself being swallowed by the river.

The impact on the water felt like a million tiny sharp blows across the entire upper half of her body before the stinging cold attacked the rest of it. In an instant, Clem could feel the pressure of the tons of water above her, first in her ears, then in her eyes as it felt like the river was trying to crush her head. The watery darkness engulfed her as she searched in desperation for anything that would tell her which way the surface was.

Clem swam towards what she could only hope was up, following the blurry hint of light she spotted out of the corner of her eye. The faint light grew brighter as she moved but the surface still wouldn't come. Her lungs ached and her mind raced in terror as no matter how fast as she swung her arms or how much brighter the light grew, she couldn't seem to escape the river. Clem forced her mouth to stay shut as her every instinct told her to take a breath and swam as hard as her aching body possibly could.

Her head burst past the surface and Clem gasped for breath, only to feel water flowing into her mouth. Bobbing back under the river, violently choking for air even harder, Clem realized her respirator must have had water in and ripped it off in a hurry. She poked her head above the river again, puking out the water and part of what she had for breakfast and taking a single quick breath before she felt herself pulled under the surface again.

Clem managed to swing her arms hard enough to force her head up again for more air. She looked around desperately for any idea of where she was, but could only see more water in every direction and a single distant shore covered in trees before falling beneath the surface again. The constant sound of water rushing past her ears made it impossible for Clem to hear anything else and every stroke to keep above the water drained a little more of Clem's failing strength as the river refused to release its grip on her.

Head spinning, muscles aching, skin stinging from the frigid waters, Clementine couldn't even tell which way she was facing anymore as the current continue to drag her further from where she had fallen. Suddenly, there was a deafening boom and Clem found herself instinctively diving underwater, fearful that, for some reason, she was being shot at now. The girl could only bare a few seconds before coming up for air again, her arms so numb that she wasn't sure if she could force them to move for much longer.

Spinning around in desperation for anything that could help, Clem spotted something bright red just ahead of her. Desperately swimming towards whatever she saw, she could suddenly see multiple bright red objects all rocking back and forth on the surface. A few more painful strokes forwards and Clem saw there was a neon yellow rope marked with small plastic flags just sitting on top of the river.

Clem instinctively grabbed hold of it, only to keep drifting along with the current. Out of desperation, Clem tried pulling herself along the line, hoping it was tied to something. As she did, there was a sudden jolt as the line pulled on her. Clem wasn't sure what was happening, but something was moving the rope so she clung to it for dear life. Each sudden pull felt like it was threatening to dislocate Clem's aching arms, but she refused to let go, and with each tug the shore moved a little closer.

Kicking her legs to move forward as she moved, Clem suddenly felt her foot connecting with the riverbed and didn't hesitate to plant herself on the ground. Pulling herself forward along the rope and running as much as she could through the water, Clem stumbled out of the river as fast as her aching limbs could carry her. The last hundred feet or so all dissolved into a blur as she burst out the river and collapsed onto the ground.

Lying on the dirt on her hands and knees, gasping for air, the girl desperately tried to collect her thoughts when she noticed a large shadow looming over her. Looking up in a hurry, she saw a tall figure clad in black body armor and a gas mask reaching out to grab her.

"Stay back!" yelled a panicked Clem as she stumbled backwards, her shaking hand trying to remove her gun from its soaking wet holster. "Just stay away!" Clem finally managed to raise her pistol and took several more steps back as she aimed at the armored stranger. They raised their hands in surrender and pivoted slightly to see Clem better as she walked along the shore. She stopped moving after she realized this person wasn't pursuing her and just stood there patiently while she tried to steady her aim.

"Easy," instructed the armored stranger, their voice muffled by their mask. "I'm not going to hurt you." After several deep breaths, Clem finally felt her heart slow down just enough so that it wasn't causing her chest to ache with each beat. Clem lowered her gun, and the stranger lowered their hands, letting them rest at their side. "Are you all alone?" they asked. "Is there anyone else that—" The stranger stopped speaking suddenly and turned their head, prompting Clem to look over her shoulder.

She saw a glint of light coming from a tree next to the shoreline and realized what she was looking at; someone raising a scoped rifle. "Anthony don't!" yelled Clementine at the top of her lungs as she ran towards him. "It's okay, don't shoot!" Sprinting forward, Clem could clearly see Anthony now, the rifle still raised. "Just put the gun down." Anthony slowly lowered the rifle, then hurried forward to meet the girl.

"Jesus, are you all right?" he asked, a guarded concern in his voice as he approached.

"I think so," answered Clem as Anthony moved past her.

"And who is that?" asked Anthony as he moved towards the armored stranger. "You some kind of—shit!" Anthony raised the rifle. "Clem, get his gun!"

"Gun?" Looking down at the dirt, Clem suddenly noticed some kind of rifle just a few feet from where the armored stranger was standing.

"Take it," insisted the stranger without a trace of hostility as they raised their hands again.

Clem hurried forward quickly and grabbed the weapon with both hands, discovering it had a large metal canister attached to the underside of it. Upon closer inspection, Clem found that the rope she had grabbed apparently was tethered to the weapon's odd attachment. The gun also had an incredibly short barrel for a shotgun or rifle.

"Why don't we go somewhere and talk," suggested the stranger as Clem picked up their rifle.

"Why don't we just talk here?" suggested Anthony.

"That thing made a lot of noise when I used it," spoke the stranger. "And there's a lot of infected on the other side of the river. Even with the bridge out, they manage to get over here sometimes."

"Where do you want to go?" asked Clem. "The citadel?"

"You saw our signs," concluded the stranger. "Yeah, that's the safest place to hold up on this side of the river. Let's go there, and I'll tell you people what's going on."

"Why can't you just tell us right now?" challenged Anthony.

"It's a long story, and out here in the open isn't a good place to tell it."

"But who are you?" asked Clem. "Can't you tell us that?"

"Me?" asked the armored stranger. "I'm the last living person in Tulsa."

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