#but the people being attacked in this movie run a horse farm. yeah for movies but they themselves arent in the movies

[southerngothicaf]

I don't think we appreciated Nope enough for making the alien a giant eye, a camera, that consumed anything that looks at it and spits out the remnants in a rain of blood. In this day and age, where people just going about their day can become a viral video and get chewed up and spit out by the internet, all just for existing, for looking at the person holding the camera.

[mirkwoodshewolf]

The city kid and the horse whisperer; Charles (Joe Mazzello Wooly boys) x reader

*Author’s note*

Okay let me first start off by saying I have NEVER WATCHED WOOLY BOYS SO IF YOU HAVE AND I GET ANYTHING WRONG, I AM SORRY!!! There’s just no way for me to watch this film unless I buy it. But I figured I give this a shot, hopefully you all like it and I’m planning on one more Charles fic in mind but until then I hope you all enjoy this one.

Warnings: drowning (just vague scene of it, not really any major details), some flirting, playful banter, teasing (platonically), and a writer who has no idea about this film other than from what she’s seen in the trailer and a clip or two of the movie.

Taglist:

@plethora-of-things​

@waddles03​

@ixchel-9275​

@psychosupernatural​

@simonedk​

@dancingcoolcat​

@queensdivas​

@queendeakyy​

@kairosfreddie​

@geek-and-proud​

@jd-johndeacon-or-jackdaniels​

____________________________________________________________

I watched from afar as Charles was struggling to get onto Whiskey and I couldn’t help but feel sorry for him.  How could someone that is related to the great AJ “Stoney” Stoneman, and not know how to ride a horse? Guess city folks really don’t get it.  I stood there with Stoney’s white stallion ‘White lightning’ as I continued to stroke his mane.

“He really is trying isn’t he boy?” he grunted as he turned his head towards me and nickered softly.  “Oh come on he’s not that bad.”

“I swear every time I hear you talk to them, it’s almost like you do have witch-like powers.” Stoney’s voice soon spoke up.  I turned and smiled at the old man who’s been the only real positive male figure in my life.

“Just call me one with Mother Nature’s creatures.” I joked.

“You know; you are the youngest rider out of Shuck and I. And Charlie there won’t really listen to a bunch of old geezers like us. Why don’t you give him some tips on riding?” I chuckled softly.

“That’s funny.” When I heard Stoney not laughing nor chuckling along, I looked back towards him and said, “You’re being serious?” his brow raised. “Stoney, he won’t listen to me. You know that right?”

“Well he’s pretty pissed off at me and Shuck doesn’t really believe he can be a Wooly boy. Besides no one else is a better rider than you. Remember how you bested them Spratt boys last year at the rodeo?” I grinned smugly, “You lasted longer than either of them arrogant little assholes did on the bull ride, a full 20 seconds.”

“Yah those boys hadn’t let me live it down ever since. Always challenging me to a rematch or claiming I was cheatin.”

“My point is, I think my grandson could do better with some company around his age.”

“You sure this is about letting your grandson learn to ride? Or are you just avoiding him?”

“He’s getting no better teacher. Hell might be good for you too.”

“What are you talking about you ole coot?”

“I maybe old and sick my dear but I know when a mare is interested in a stallion. And sweetheart you’ve been eyein my grandson the second he arrived here.” I punched his arm which made him groan.  “Didn’t I ever teach you about respect for your elders?” he teased.

“Yes but I counteract that when said elder person decides to be a busybody towards young one doing the ‘disrespecting’.” I teased back to him.  I looked back towards Charles who was finally up on Whiskey but was struggling on trying to keep him calm.  “Alright, but only because if I don’t then Whiskey’s gonna piledrive him to the ground.”

I walked right over to the riding ring and I leaned up against the fence as I could hear Charles say to Whiskey.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa. Easy. Easy. Just—hold still…..”

“He can sense your uneasiness yah know?” Charles suddenly turned towards me which made Whiskey nicker nervously.

“No offense but I have ridden a horse before, okay?” I raised my brow at his arrogant attitude before he suddenly deflated, “Okay. It was—virtual saddle. And I—don’t remember it being this high.”

“City kids and your fancy tech. You can try to make it as easy as you can or make it seem you’re really doing it but all that crap, doesn’t even come close to what people like us do.” I hopped over the fence and placed my hand on Whiskey’s strong neck and took one of the reins and whispered soothingly. “Easy big guy, steady young buck, steady.”

Whiskey’s nervous pacing soon stopped as his head touched my shoulder and the only thing that moved from him was his tail, whipping every now and then.

“Good boy Whisk. That’s a boy.” I patted his neck before giving it a gentle and soothing stroke.

“So it—it is true.” I heard Charles say.

“What’s true?” he tried to get down with ease but his foot got caught up in the stirrups.  As he tried to wriggle it out, I couldn’t help but softly smile and try to hold in my laughter.

“That you really can talk to the horses.” He said as he finally got himself free.

“Well it’s not really talking. I mean yeah it is but it’s also showing respect. These creatures have been around and helping mankind for literally millennia’s. They gave us speed, power, and companionship in a way. Cowboys in the wild west had no one but their posse, if they had one, and their horses. One thing that mankind seems to forget is how to respect those that have helped us. That’s why I always treat any horse of Stoney’s with respect and dignity.”

“But—aren’t they just animals?”

“Just because they’re animals doesn’t mean they don’t have feelings too.” I sassed at him. The two of us stared at each other as I unhooked Whiskey’s saddle. “Your grandad wants me to help you learn how to ride. So be ready tomorrow at dawn.”

“Can’t we start after breakfast?”

“No can do Yankee-doo. Besides, I needed to go out hunting anyways for Shuck, might as well give him his winnings before he nags me to next month.”

“Winnings for what?”

“Oh last month he and I had a bet on whether or not Stoney would actually have the guts to go see yah in the city. I bet he wouldn’t, so—you can pick the story from there.”

“Am I supposed to be insulted that you lost a bet because of me?”

“Don’t kid yourself city boy.” I laughed. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to go put Whiskey up before you do anymore further trauma to him.” I took the reigns and led him toward the barn.

“I didn’t—”

“Loosen up Yankee I’m kidding again!” I laughed as I turned my head towards him before grinning and turning my head back to continue to the barn.

The rest of the day was just helping Stoney around the farm and by the time the sunset we all sat around and had dinner before I finally decided to retire for the day.  I showered, brushed my teeth and put my hair up in a bun before finally falling asleep.

Early the next morning as soon as the rooster crowed, I woke up and stretched myself out.  I got on the first pair of clothes I could find before heading downstairs to the kitchen to see Charles asleep on the couch.  I grabbed an empty vase and filled it up with cold water.  I walked over to Charles and shook him.

“Oi get up.” He groaned tiredly and turned away from me.  Okay but don’t say I didn’t give him a chance.  I then dumped water on his face which immediately woke him up.

“What the hell!?”

“Oh good you’re awake. Get up and get dressed.”

“For what?”

“Oh don’t tell me you forgot about our riding lesson.” He groaned again as he almost went back to sleep. “You know I can dump the rest of this water right? Or would you rather have me hogtie you till you scream uncle?”

“Didn’t know you were that kinky.” He teased as he peeked out from underneath his pillow.  I blushed and turned aside before dragging his butt out of the couch.

“Just get dressed and meet me in the stable!” I didn’t once look back at him as I raced outside and ran towards the barn.

I had just finished saddling up Whiskey and now I was saddling up my stallion “Tornado”, a pure black mustang.  Few years back Stoney and I came across him after he had a nasty encounter with a mountain lion.  After chasing the demon cat away, Stoney and I took Tornado to the farm and I stayed with him and healed him up.

Now if I told you it was all trust and immediate connection between us, you’re wrong. Tornado definitely proved himself to be a pure, wild stallion.  Hell if I didn’t know any better I’d say he was the leader of his herd.  He wouldn’t even let me anywhere near him for 3 days till finally his injuries got so bad I feared he was gonna die.

So it was then I stepped in and cleaned out the injected wounds, wrapped him up and stitched him.  Every now and then I gave him peace offerings of apples and water which he gladly took. Weeks passed and he showed great improvement, of course his wild nature still stayed (and of course I was dumb enough to think I could try to ride him, got my ass whooped a few times)

Finally I knew that I wouldn’t be able to ride him so I let him go.  He raced off and never did I think I would see him again.

Until one day seven months after Stoney and I had rescued him; I was out alone scouting for the annual hog trails when the Spratt brothers tried yet another of their failed attempts to flirt with me.  After I had denied them, the youngest and most relentless one Billy got so assertive that he had the nerve to cup a feel of me.  Well I’ll have you know I didn’t take that sitting down, so I gave him a right hook so hard, I heard a crack of his nose.

Pissed and beyond angry that I had the nerve to attack his brother, Owen took me to the edge of the cliff we were on that overlooked the river and he pushed me down off the 10ft cliff.  I fell into the river and was dragged down the rapid miles away from the trail.

As the river overtook me and forced me down underneath its rapid current, I thought I was dead for sure.  But the next thing I see running up along the side of the river was a large black creature. I almost couldn’t believe it myself but I recognized that shape and pure black stallion anywhere, it was him.  The wild mustang.

I watched as it jumped into the river and actually swam after me.  He put himself between me and the rest of the current as I reached out and grabbed onto him.  He then swam with all his might against the current to get us to the shoreline before the river could sweep us away further downstream.

I almost doubted it but Tornado proved to be one strong mustang.  He reached the shore line and got me out of harm’s way. Exhausted from traveling down miles of strong rapids, I collapsed on the river’s edge and instead of him abandoning me. Tornado knelt down and stayed with me till I woke up around nightfall freezing cold.

When he noticed that I had woken up after passing out, he adjusted himself so that I could not climb up onto his back and actually ride him.  He stood up and trotted back the 20 miles back to Stoney’s farm.

Now three years later, Tornado has not left my side.  I saved his life and he repaid me back by saving mine.  After that debt was paid, we had this—incredible bond, and that is something that no one can ever take away from us.

Once I hooked him up I said to him.

“I don’t know Tornado, maybe I’m just going crazy.” He nudged shoulder and gently nibbled the ends of my long hair.  I giggled and shoved him away from my hair.  He nickered at me as he moved his head towards mine so that he and I were staring at each other eye to eye.  My forehead touching his muzzle. “You Mister are as much of a busybody as Stoney is.”

“So, are we doing this or not?” Charles’ voice suddenly rang out.  I backed away from Tornado and I said.

“Well you seem eager.”

“Not really. I just didn’t want to get water dumped on my head again.” I scoffed softly as I grinned.

“Normally I’m a bit easier when it comes to wake up calls. But you’re still not getting the hang of being here on the farm are yah? Here we wake up as the sun rises and go to sleep as soon as it sets. If not for us you wouldn’t have any of those vegetables or fruits. Nor your wooly sweaters at Christmas time, or even the milk and eggs you eat every breakfast.”

“Alright, alright I get it. So—is the black one mine?”

“Not unless you wanna get kicked across the barn. Tornado don’t let anyone but me ride him.”

“Is he picky or just clingy to you?” Tornado huffed at Charles and I saw him stomp his front right hoof in a challenging gesture.  

“Steady Tornado, steady. For your information smartass, he’s a pure bred wild stallion. He’s only ever really trusted me.”

“Why’s that?”

“That’s a story for another time. You’ll take Whiskey again, but before we ride; I’m gonna teach you the proper technique on how to mount him cause let’s face it, after yesterday—you’re gonna need it.” I walked up to him and he and I stood beside Whiskey.

I told him the proper way on how to mount a horse on the left side, how to hold the reins and which foot to step onto the stirrup before shifting your weight to fully mount the horse.  I mounted onto Whiskey so that he could properly see how it was done before I got off of him and stood on the right side of him now.

“Okay city kid, your turn. Like I showed you, hold the reins first and foremost before you even think about stepping up.” He took hold of the reins and waited a bit for Whiskey to get used to him before he used his left foot to get on the stirrup.  He counted down softly to himself before finally hauling himself over with ease and as soon as he was on Whiskey, Whisk started acting up again, this time circling around nervously.

“Okay, okay now what—hey, hey what do I do now?”

“Take hold of the reins and even them out. Don’t grip them though. If you hold them too tight, it’ll show Whiskey you’re nervous. Ease and loose.” He did as I told him and Whisky immediately calmed down his nervous circling. “Now with your legs, don’t tuck them inward. Let them come outward. Have you ridden a motorbike or anything?”

“I once went boat racing with some friends of mine one summer.”

“Okay that’s good. You know how you have your legs relaxed and your knees pointed outward?” he nodded. “Do that.” He adjusted his knees and for the first time Whiskey didn’t react at all.

“I did it. I did it!” Charles laughed happily.

“Great kid don’t get cocky yet. You just got on the horse. Now you need to learn to ride.” I grabbed my hunting rifle and wrapped it around my shoulder before I mounted on Tornado and urged him outside with both my right foot and clicking my tongue.

Charles followed awkwardly behind me, I could hear him nervously telling Whisky to slow down.

“Telling him to slow down will only make him speed up. Try not to have your legs kick him every time too, that’s a sign to him that you want to go faster. And keep those reigns even.”

“Maybe we should just give this up. There’s no way I’m ever gonna ride a horse in New York City.” Charles whined.  I stopped Tornado and turned him around and I said to Charles.

“Listen Charles; I know you think this is pointless. But out here, this is life. Best way any of us get around here is through horseback. Not everyone is automatically born a horse rider. We all had to learn, your grandad, Shuck, the Sheriff, even me. Hell I was worse than you were when I first started. But how bout I give you a little piece of advice my teacher gave me.”

“What?”

“He told me ‘(Y/n), life is like a horse itself. Somedays you’ll be riding freely like a bird in the sky. Other days it’ll haul you off and slam you smack down into the ground it’s like all your insides are busted. But it’s up to you to get back on that horse and ride on. Cause if you don’t, then you’re just sitting there in the dirt watching life go by without you. And only the dead need to do that’.” Charles looked at me in awe and he said.

“Damn. That’s—that’s deep.” I nodded. “Who was your teacher?” I smiled softly and said.

“You’re living with him.” We continued onward the trail and didn’t speak another word to each other for a while.

As the day got brighter and the sun moved higher into the sky we finally reached the entrance to the forest trail, the perfect place to get Shuck a deer.

“We’ll tie off the horses here and continue on foot.” I urged Tornado onward closer to the forest.  Charles urged Whiskey behind me, suddenly a bunch of birds suddenly flew out from the bush which startled Whiskey and the next thing I heard was Charles exclaiming as he was knocked off to the ground and Whiskey running into the forest.

I steadied Tornado and got off his back and raced towards Charles and stood over him.

“Can you move?”

“I think so.” I held my hand out to him and he took it.  I helped him up and groaned in pain as he rubbed his head.

“You don’t have a concussion do yah?”

“Yeah, my vision isn’t blurry or anything.”

“Good. Well most likely Whisk ran about several yards into the forest. He usually don’t stay scared for long when something startles him, especially if he finds something to eat.” We walked towards Tornado and I grabbed his reins and we walked into the forest.

Low and behold we soon found Whiskey standing beside a tree eating some grass and wild flowers not even a half mile as soon as we entered the forest.  I walked up to him and grabbed his reins and said to him.

“A bunch of sparrows Whiskey and you go running off like a big fat ninny!” he raised his head and allowed me to tie his reins to the tree.  I whistled for Tornado and he came up to me and allowed me to take the saddle off of him to lighten him up.

“Aren’t you gonna tie him up too?”

“He gets restless is he stays tied up. So I allow him to just roam around a bit whenever I go out hunting or we go for a ride. But he knows to stay close so that he can hear me call out for him when I need him. Like I said, pure blood wild mustang. You can take him out of the wild, but you can’t take the wild out of him.” I took the reins off of him and he happily spat out the metal bars between his teeth and shook his head.

I smiled and stroked up his muzzle as he nickered in gratitude before turning around and trotting off deeper into the woods.  I hung the reins over a thick branch right beside where Whiskey was tied up and took my hunting rifle off my shoulders.  Standing there for a bit I looked around and said.

“This way.” We walked Northeast for about 10 minutes till we finally reached a good rest stop near a small creek where animals would be coming for a drink. Charles and I perched up against a tree and waited.

“So—how did you become part of my grandfather’s farm?” a slight smile came at the corner of my mouth.

“That is a long story.”

“I think we got time.” I adjusted myself to fully turn towards him.

“Your grandad has been with me since all before I was born. My father used to help him out when he was growing up before he met my mom. Sadly when I was born, my mama died. Complications from the birth or something like that. After that, my dad was ruined. He drank—a lot. Then when I was—six, maybe seven my dad got the final strike when he and I got into a car accident when he was drinking and driving. After that, Sheriff put him away and Stoney actually stepped up and took me in.”

“I’m—I’m so sorry (y/n) I……”

“Didn’t know. It’s fine. I…..really don’t like to talk about it much. Never went to see my dad cause let’s be honest he never really was a father to me. I was just a visitor to him. Sometimes he’d get so drunk he’d get confused and just call me ‘little tenant’. So Sheriff did me a solid and I hold no grudge against him. Until I was told when I was 14 that my dad died in prison. I never really cared to ask how he died. But Stoney’s been good to me, as have Shuck and the Sheriff.”

Suddenly the sound of a twig snapping alerted me.  I cocked my gun and raised it up to my eye as I aimed forward towards the shrub.  Only to see a mother deer step out and a second later, her baby.  I lowered the gun and smiled lovingly as the mother deer and her baby walked towards the creek to get a drink.

“Do you—ever miss your mom?” I heard Charles ask.  I looked up at him and that’s when he said, “Sorry stupid question.”

“No it’s not stupid. And yeah. I wish I got to know her, that way I could decide for myself whether we would get along or just end up hating each other.” The reason why I mostly said that was cause I knew how Charles was towards his mom. His face immediately turned to regret as he said.

“Guess I should really rethink about how my mom’s been treating me lately.”

“Take it from me Charlie boy. Never take life for granted, cause you never know when you got something that someone else doesn’t. Be thankful that your mom is still in your life and is doing what she does because she loves you. Yeah it may seem cold at times but that’s tough love. And coming from your grandfather’s bloodline no doubt she’s a Wooly girl, just in a city environment and adapting as the times and laws change.”

It was then we both heard the chittering of squirrels just nearby.  One squirrel had a surprisingly good sized nut all to himself but there was another squirrel slowly creeping up on him wanting to steal it.

“You know if you wanna hear something really stupid. When I was a kid, sometimes I used to commentate on what an animal might be thinking in a situation.”

“Seriously?” he chuckled.

“Yeah, yeah go on laugh it up.”

“No I’m not laughing. I think it’s—kinda cute. What do you imagine those squirrels are saying right now?” I chuckled and said.

“Well the one with the nut is probably saying ‘hmm I lucked out today. Got me a really big nut. This’ll last me till winter time for sure.’ Now the one coming up behind him is saying, ‘that nut will be mine. Bucky always gets the big nuts, well not this time’.” We then watched as the squirrel behind quickly stole the other squirrel’s nut and took off running.

As the squirrel who had the nut previously chased after the thief squirrel I continued to commentate the chase scene.

“Oi Daryl that’s my nut give it back!”

“No way Buck finders keepers!”

“I found it give it back you thieving rodent!” Charles softly laughed hearing my ‘squirrel’ voices as we watched the two squirrels chase each other up and around the tree they were standing near.

Unaware that the mother deer and her fawn had left and that another deer was coming in for a drink.  This time an adult male one.

Charles and I continued to watch the squirrel’s chase each other and I continued my commentary till I stopped when I heard a twig snap.  I turned my head and that’s when the large buck and I met eye to eye.  Slowly and carefully I raised my gun back up to my eye as the buck soon took off running.

“Cover your ears!” I said to Charles as I fired the shot and the buck immediately dropped to the ground mid run.  After a few minutes of it not moving, we walked towards it and I handed him some leather gloves. “Put these on. Never know with bucks, I heard of one case where someone took a 8 pointer buck without gloves and ended up with lime disease.”

I put my gloves on as well and the two of us worked together to carry the 6 pointer buck back towards Whiskey.

After getting him tied onto the Whiskey’s back, I whistled for Tornado and within minutes he came trotting back towards us.

“Hey big guy, have a good time roaming?” he nodded as he nickered happily. “I’ll bet you did. Unfortunately though, we’re gonna have to saddle you back up boy. But we’ve done what we needed to do. Come on boy let’s get you hooked up.” I walked back to get his saddle up ready for travel.  Once he was good and ready, I mounted onto him and said, “Alright, let’s go.”

It was roughly mid afternoon when we were about 3/4th of the way back to Stoney’s farm when I stopped by the river and I said.

“Hey Charles,”

“Yeah?” I got off of Tornado’s back and I said as I grabbed the pail bucket from one of the tacks I had on him, “I just remembered I promised the Sheriff some of Stoney’s fresh river water. Think you can fill this pail up to that I can take it to him?”

“Why can’t you do it?”

“Yeah and leave you to watch Tornado? Please he’d snap you like a twig.” Tornado gave a proud huff as Charles submitted.

“Fair enough.” He got off of Whiskey and took the pail from me and jogged towards the river.  As soon as he went down, I smirked and got off of Tornado and whispered into his ear of my devious plan.  I saw Tornado blink one eye at me, like he was winking at me before he silently walked towards Charles.  Oh man was this city kid gonna get a surprise.

Tornado finally stood over Charles and he still had no idea what to expect.  Next thing he would know was something shoving him into the water.  As he fell into the river, I couldn’t help myself from laughing, while Tornado reared up and whinnied what sounded like a laugh.

“Did you tell him to do that?!” I walked towards the river’s edge wiping a tear away.

“I’m sorry. I couldn’t resist. You’re just too easy. Here, let me help you.” I reached my hand out for him.  He took my hand before he said.

“No, let me help you.” next thing I knew, I was pulled into the river right next to him. I resurfaced and saw him now laughing at me.  I splashed some water in his face to shut him up and soon it escalated into a water fight between the two of us.  

After our water fight ceased, Charles and I stared at each other exhaustedly.  The way his auburn hair shined under the sun reminded me of the reddish tint that the sunset makes especially during the summer time.  And the way his pale skin gleamed off of the water’s reflection, it was like looking into a fresh pail of milk.  The two of us continued to stare at each other till he finally broke the silence.

“(Y/n)?”

“Uhh—yeah?” I whispered softly.

“Do you……uhh….I mean has anyone t-told you—” he stammered nervously.

“Told me what?”

“Has anyone ever told you that you have really pretty—”

“So there you two are. I was beginning to think you both decided to hit the trail and take off out of the state line.” We looked up and there on their horses were Stoney and Shuck.

“Sorry Stoney, we were just……” I started off before Stoney once again said.

“No need to explain. We can see what’s going on here.”

“It’s not like that you old coot!”

“Seems our horse whisperer has finally gotten on the horse after all.” Shuck teased. I groaned and got out of the water as Charles followed behind me.

“Here Shuck, I got you yah damned deer. My debt has been paid and now I bid you all adios.” I said as I unhooked the deer from Whiskey and dropped it at Shuck’s horses feet before going on Tornado and riding off back to the ranch.

As the day went on I avoided Charles or anyone for that matter.  I kept myself busy around the farm, caring for the sheep and of course taking care of the horses.  Currently I was brushing Tornado’s mane when I heard the voice of the boy I really didn’t want to hear right now.

“Hey (y/n).” I circled around Tornado to hide my face from him as I kept brushing Tornado.  “Are you really not gonna talk to me anymore? You’ve been avoiding me all day.” I bit my bottom lip as Tornado looked right at me with a slight huff.  He lowered his head and nudged me away from his side before finally nudging me outward so that I now stood in front of him, but also in Charles’ line of sight.

“Damn you stallion.” I muttered to my horse as he bopped his head up and down nickering and whinnying.  I turned towards Charles and I said.

“Okay. You’ve got me now. Now what is it?”

“Well when you talk like that it almost makes me not want to say it at all.” He grouched.

“Well sorry I wasted your time then.”

“What is wrong with you?” I scoffed.  “No seriously, ever since the lake you’ve gone back to the cold-hearted girl that I first met when I came here. Did I do something wrong? Cause I swear I didn’t know Stoney or Shuck would come looking for us.”

“No it’s not something you did per-say.”

“Then what is it? Tell me cause right now I’m completely……”

“I LIKE YOU OKAY!?!?”  There was dead silence in the air.  Charles’s eyes turned from anger to shock in the manner of a second.  His mouth slightly dropped as he just gawked at me.

“You….. you like me?”

“Please don’t make me say it again Charles. I—I’ve never really been interested in any of the boys in this town, but then your grandad drags you here and……I don’t know you made me feel things I’ve never felt before. But I didn’t want to be all smoochy-gooey-goo about it. That’s just real sissy stuff but I—” I was interrupted by feeling Charles grab my arms and shutting me up with a kiss.

I froze right there on the spot for a moment not even believing what was happening till finally I succumbed and kissed him back.  I wrapped my arms around his neck as I felt his wrap around my waist bringing me closer.  After awhile we separated for air, our breaths mixing in together in a warm dance.

“I—I’m sorry. I’m sorry I….I didn’t mean to do that. I mean not the kiss that I mean kiss you so suddenly, I was just….” This time I interrupted him with a kiss. This time, it was much more softer and meaningful.  I separated from him and he whispered. “Your eyes.”

“My what?”

“Back at the lake. I—was going to say you have really pretty eyes.” I smiled happily and leaned my forehead against his.  

“Thank you. No one’s….ever really said that to me.”

“I’m more than happy to say it to you as many times as you want. Hell I’ll say you have a pretty foot if you want me to.” We both laughed and I said through my giggles.

“Please don’t though. I’ll just take the ‘pretty eyes’ compliment.”

“Hate to break it to you angel, but I’m gonna add more cute body parts to compliment.”

“Such as?” he cupped my face in his hands and just stared into my eyes.

“Well I love this pretty nose,” he kissed my nose. “And these pretty cheeks,” he kissed both my cheeks, “Especially when they get red from either the sun or from you blushing.” He teased.  I poked his side which made him curl inward for a brief moment before he continued, “And those pretty lips.” He gave me a soft and ginger kiss. “I especially love your lips. They’re not all poofed up or overly coated with lipstick like the girls have back home. It’s natural, with a hint of cherry chap stick.”

“Farm work can cause chapped lips. And the cherry was the only flavor available when I first started working here. Guess it just kinda stuck.”

“Well I love it, please keep getting that flavor.” I nodded as he leaned in and captured my lips one more time in a passionate kiss.  This time I was now pinned up against the wall and I felt Charles’ hand slowly slid down my side, to my hips and slowly back around.

But before I could feel his hand go any closer towards my butt, that’s when Tornado let off a warning neigh.  Not just any type of neigh, it’s the type of neigh that almost makes a horse sound just like a demon.  Charles immediately backed up as Tornado huffed through his nose and glared at him. I laughed softly and said.

“Oh you mind your own business Tornado. I’ll bet you were way worse with the mares of your herd.” I playfully swatted him with my cowgirl hat and he walked back towards his stable but kept his eyes on Charles.  After locking him up in his stable, I turned back towards my auburn city boy and took his hand and the two of us walked out of the stable together.

“Is he ever gonna warm up to me?”

“After seeing that, probably not. But no worries, I think the only approval you’ve got to face and already gained was your grandad’s and Shuck’s.”

From that day on, Charles and I continued to grow closer and closer with each other.  He slowly improved on his farming skills and dare I say, he went from city boy to Wooly boy in a matter of a few weeks.  Never have I been more proud to call that city kid my boyfriend.

[incorrecteragonquotes]

Eragon Movie Recap Part 5: Big Trouble in Little Daret

There’s magic in this one.

We pick up where Part 4 left off. Eragon, Saphira, and Brom have left home, and there’s no turning back now. They may have evaded their pursuers this time, but if all that bickering is any indication, they still have a long and trying path ahead of them.

We begin by returning to Durza’s fort. We get a nice, long look at this sizable yet dingy workshop where Urgals can be found. This is the first time we’ve seen them since the ambush on Arya’s patrol! I wonder how they’re doing.

They look to be doing well enough until Durza himself materializes out of thin air. The guy must run a tight ship, as the whole place goes quiet in an instant. There is one Urgal who missed the memo, though, and he continues with his important mission of sharpening his large, bladed weapon of a type that I cannot identify. His nearby friend gets him to stop after a moment. It’s quite awkward.

Durza walks over to our focused friend, compliments his blade, stabs him in the foot with it, complains about Eragon’s escape, and gives the guy some orders. Durza then dissipates. Say what you like about him, but he sure does know how to keep a schedule.

Meanwhile, in the forest, Brom’s scheming session is in full swing. He claims the best way to evade Durza’s minions and reach the foothills near the Varden’s hideout is to trek over to the reasonably nearby village of Daret. But Eragon’s skepticism may have reached Brom; even he doesn’t seem to have too much faith in his own plan.

Brom gives Saphira some instructions on how to stay safe and hidden. Fly high, only rejoin the group at night, you never know when the Ra’zac may be watching. You know, the usual. Or rather, Brom gives Eragon the instructions, but the instructions are for Saphira. Eragon pulls a classic Yeah Just Do What He Said manoeuver when Brom finishes talking.

Now aware of how to avoid detection, Saphira shares a little bit of sass before promptly departing. She is immediately spotted by the Ra’zac, who are watching from a cliff some distance away.

After about 10 seconds of riding montage, Brom and Eragon hear screams from around a corner. It turns out that some Urgals are attacking a nearby group of random civilians. Brom’s a bit too eager to flee the scene, but Eragon’s a bit too eager to join the fight, which Brom knows isn’t a great idea.

Eragon gets a little cocky when insisting that he’s a trained fighter thanks to his bouts with Roran back on the farm. Brom is visibly excited, while somehow managing to remain simultaneously skeptical, but he still chooses to leave the scene before assessing Eragon’s skills by sparring with him.

Sure enough, they spar by a stream an unspecified distance away after an unspecified amount of time. The bout is implied to be a sort of litmus test for whether or not to participate in the fight with the Urgals, but there’s no way they could get to the sparring ground, finish the bout, and get back to the scene before it’s too late. The terrain is different enough that it can’t reasonably be all that near the Urgals and their victims, who are not seen again. This suggests that these people’s sole purpose in this story was to act as a catalyst for this sparring session. Maybe also to add to the background threat of Durza and friends? I guess we shouldn’t ignore the part where the raid reminds Brom to stay off the main roads. What a noble sacrifice. Maybe the filmmakers were trying to darken the story’s tone here, but it just feels like we lost some perfectly good civilians to a potentially interesting raid that our characters literally walked away from with smiles on their faces.

Regardless, the sparring match is inoffensive enough. They fight with a pair of sizeable wooden sticks. Eragon promises to go easy on Brom because he doesn’t want to hurt an old man, Brom’s clearly in teacher mode, Eragon gets overconfident, Brom gets the upper hand quickly and easily, Brom causes Eragon to lose the bout and get his boot wet in the stream. Brom reminds Eragon that, unlike Eragon’s previous opponents, the enemies they’ll be facing will actually be trying to kill them.

Saphira rejoins the group as they set up camp later in the day. Eragon insists that he Totally Could Have Won That Fight But Didn’t Want To Hurt An Old Man, I Swear. Saphira amusedly voices her doubts.

Brom, meanwhile, is trying to light a fire by hitting a pair of rocks together. When asked, he informs Eragon that Saphira is too young to breathe fire. Eventually getting tired of his repeated failures, Brom stealthily conjures a fire with the power of language. Eragon immediately notices that something is amiss, and questions Brom on the thing he just did. Brom firmly denies the occurrence of any shenanigans.

Uncharacteristically, Eragon doesn’t press the issue. He’s disappointed that Brom doesn’t trust him enough to explain, but Saphira suggests that maybe the whole trust thing is a two-way street, and they should start doing their part as well.

The next day, they set out towards the village of Daret. It’s a long and uneventful journey, and they arrive around dusk. The village is shrouded in mist, and it seems to be built as a series of bridges and platforms on top of some sort of marshy lake. Eragon’s falling asleep on his horse, and even though it mostly seems to be an excuse to show Eragon having another dream about Arya, I think it’s a really neat detail for the filmmakers to have included. Not every movie shows that part of the journey.

Brom shakes Eragon awake so they can enter the village on foot, leaving the horses at the entrance. Brom strikes out on his own to go wrangle some information out of the locals, and Eragon wanders off alone. He is tasked with buying bread and talking to nobody. After a few seconds, Eragon notices a mysteriously cloaked figure a few platforms away. They look at each other for a moment, but the establishment of eye contact prompts Eragon escapes the situation by entering the nearest door and hoping for the best.

On the other side of the door, Eragon finds himself in a dimly lit hut featuring many modest but homely decorations. Eragon immediately moves to touch the dragon-shaped handle of some sort of basin. The resident of the hut takes this opportunity to jumpscare Eragon by suddenly walking out from some back corner of the tiny room. Her clothes are loud and jangly, and she speaks in the third person. Introducing herself as Angela, she offers to read Eragon’s fortune.

Saddened, Eragon laments that he has no money. Angela scolds him, as she is apparently doing this for fun. And for free! She shakes her bag of dragon knucklebones out onto a table, her eyes go all milky, and she begins spouting vague and elaborate descriptions that generally boil down to either “you are important and so is your destiny!” or “you are powerful and so are your enemies!”. Eragon clings to her every word.

There are two meaningful pieces of information. Firstly, a tragic death is imminent! Eragon is unfazed. It happened back at home, after all, didn’t it? Secondly, there is a girl! She’s super important, and she’s calling to him. Eragon realizes that this must be the girl he’s seen in his dreams, and asks Angela to tell him her name. Angela closes her eyes, bows her head, breathes deeply, and the scene cuts to outside the hut, leaving it unclear how much information, if any, was disclosed.

I would like to take a moment to note that Book Angela lives with a werecat named Solumbum. His impact on the first book is minimal, but he eventually comes to play a crucial role in the story. There is no sign of a cat in this scene, nor in the rest of this movie. While the filmmakers could introduce him later, the level of teamwork between him and Angela, such as his interest in Eragon being the thing that prompts her to do the fortune reading, makes it important that he be introduced here. Regardless, the writers will need to work overtime later if they want his exclusion from this scene to work in their favour.

Upon exiting the hut, Eragon manages to walk about three steps before being attacked by an Urgal. A few seconds later, Brom appears and solves the problem for him.

Brom is not thrilled about Eragon’s fascination with his fortune. While Eragon keeps pestering him about how he’s been told his future, Brom gets a few good quips in as he drags Eragon to the outskirts of town. The residents are nowhere to be seen. Urgals are coming from every which way now, including beneath the floorboards, and our heroes find themselves quickly surrounded. Desperate, Eragon fires an arrow while shouting the word that he heard Brom use to start the fire. As a result, the arrow is fired in a spectacularly fiery manner.

The arrow causes quite the explosion, but it does little to affect the Urgals outside the blast radius. Drained, Eragon faints. He manages to stay awake just long enough to see that Saphira’s here to save the day.

That’s it for Part 5! This part covered about 10 minutes of screentime. Things actually happened this time! After Part 4, this change of pace is both wild and welcome. We’ve even got some new characters, some of whom we’ll even see again later! What an exciting time!

Remember to tune in next week when we visit such questions as “how does Angela wash such loud clothing?”, “has Brom ever experienced appreciation?”, and “will Eragon perfect his battle strategy of shooting a fire arrow and fainting?”. See you then!

[theravencroft]

Survivalists and the Proletariat Apocalypse

This began life as a Metafilter post and has been cleaned up and lightly edited.

(To me there is a difference between prudence like having some canned goods and stapled and flashlights and whatnot and planning to survive the EMP burst with a dedicated SUV. There's prudence, as in preparing for a storm and bad local events, and then there's pretending you're going to be Immortan Joe and not one of the people begging for water).

I love making fun of preppers.

I think part of it is obviously the just world fallacy at work.

"When the hordes come for me, I will simply shoot them. But I'm just built different."

And some of it is fending off the fear of death and oblivion with telling yourself you are already prepared for every situation.

And there's a good chunk that's what I'll call the Libertarian Fallacy where every Libertarian assumes he will be the triumphant Captain of Industry and not one of the Voluntarily Indentured Servants carrying his palanque. It's like the old Bob The Angry Flower where the Captains of Industry get to Galt's Gulch and realize *somebody* forgot to invent the labor saving robots to do the dirty work like tilling the soil.

But part of it is when something doesn't happen for a while, people assume it didn't happen at all or at least not recently. It's the old "oh well if measles is so bad, what did they do before vaccines, huh?" Well, sometimes they just fucking died. Like it's not that long ago that even in very modern industrialized countries people had families of 8-12 kids and it wouldn't be all that surprising if maybe 6 or 7 made it to adulthood. Because they just died. Of stuff. Of Things. There was a Twitter that would tweet medieval death records and it was kind of funny because it's like "guy fell in a river and died." "Guy got hit on the head and died." "Guy got run over by a horse and died."

We're not really used to that anymore because of this invisible web of medical technology and public health and sanitation.

I obviously don't have a rigorous demographic breakdown of preppers but I suspect a lot of these guys aren't training for, say, the rigors of "No power tools at all," old school, walk behind the plow farming. Can you imagine the heart attacks and strokes? And even the pharmaceuticals a rich prepper can get don't compare to what a small town Walgreens has on hand for an ordinary Tuesday, not to mention the weird stuff they can order.

Oops, your precious kid to repopulate the planet has a rare birth defect. Used to be a 20 minute surgery, now you just die.

Got bitten by a snake? Ah, yes, I too remember antivenom. Would be great to have some of that now. But it turns out it wasn't profitable to produce so it was impossible to find even before total collapse. And even if we didn't have antivenom we could run fluids and machines to support your organs but we don't have that now, you just die.

Oh it turns out without mosquito control, mosquito born disease is a lot more common. And if you get the wrong one, you just die.

I mean how many totally well meaning people buy land in the country thinking they are going to run a little hobby farm and it is going to be so cool and they will have big colorful produce not like the crap you get in stores and then oops it turns out farming is hard work and it never ever ends and honestly a lot of times, you know, it takes a few crop seasons to really get anything going. And I know it's not really cool to admit, but a whole lot of modern farming is huge agribusiness companies with modern chemicals and whatnot for things like pests. Subsistence farming is hard, brutal labor where you barely make enough to survive until you screw up and die.

Yeah, yeah, organic, but lots of times farms fail and you just die.

Until relatively recently it was pretty common for entire regions and even countries to have massive famines because the crops failed and you Just Died.

Good thing we have modern distribution networks to get wheat from, I dunno, China when the Midwest crops fail because because there's no Army Corps of Engineers maintaining the levees anymore so a good chunk of the farm belt is underwater and never will be above ground again. Oh we don't have that anymore? What do we do?

Oh, we just die.

I mean, let's be real, most of these guys aren't picturing themselves as stocking up to spend the rest of their lives being an old timey sodbuster scraping out a living. They probably don't outright say it publicly (some do I'm sure), but the guns are so they don't have to do the manual labor. That's for the slaves/completely totally voluntarily indentured contract labor (depends how Libertarian they are).

They picture it more like, you know, because I was the one who was smart enough to get all these guns, then people will have to come to me, and THEY will do the work, and I will sit on the throne and have big ideas. It's being the Ideas Guy for the post apocalypse.

I would wager not many of these guys spend a lot of time studiously learning to spin and knit and weave or mastering growing flax or cotton or what have you to make cloth to turn into clothes. What do you think happens when your sicknasty BDUs that only True Operators wear rip from stem to stern? Goddamn clothes, nobody makes them to last anymore. Good thing there's a massive manufacturing and distribution network where child labor makes plenty of this in my size that wind up in my local Cabela's and...oh, I forgot, that doesn't exist anymore. Okay, let's see, we have 500,000 rounds of .223 and 55 years of MREs and...goddamn it Gary did you forget the go bag with all the clothes? Well how are we gonna survive? Winter is coming. How do we stay warm without clothes or blankets?

Oh, we just die.

That's not even getting into the monied classes. Do you think THEY are signing up for the manual labor. It is kind of funny imagining the billionaires emerging from their bunkers into the brave new world. Imagine Zucc swinging a scythe to reap grain or Bezos spending 8 hours a day bent over to pick cotton to eventually make clothes. Or the billionaire CFO and airport novelist teaming up to hand-dig the irrigation trench because we are getting low on stockpiled seeds and this is going to be it.

It's absurd. It's like the Hitchhiker's Guide ship entirely full of useless people.

The would-be Immortan Joe has a shot but how in the hell are you still going to be a billionaire when your money is a line in a bank database and "money" and "banks" and "databases" don't exist anymore. You're a computer programmer, dipshit, that requires electricity at the very least.

No, no, no. What they are picturing is, basically, the Proletariat Rapture. "I will retire to my comfortably appointed bunker where I will still get to be a big shot business guy and take meetings and be extremely important and all my guards with explosive collars to assure their loyalty will call me sir, and then something will happen and all the homeless and poor people I see on the streets of San Francisco and all the other poor people, the rabble, the useless, (include the races they don't like as appropriate), will be gone, preferably violently, with lots of suffering. And then me and my buddies will emerge, all 12 of us, all Big Shot Business Guys, will take our robot cars into San Francisco for Meetings and we finally, FINALLY won't have to risk soiling our $5000 hand made Italian dress shoes (new Chucks, in Zucc's case, man of the people) stepping in a pile of human shit. And everything will be exactly the same as it is now including a global electronic trade network and people thinking "apps" are life-changingly important, but even better, because the people I don't like are all dead, and we can finally settle in to the most important work of all, disrupting the convenience store industry by putting a little kiosk in the lobby of apartment building with some essentials, like a Bodega but see there's an app and it's automated."

That's not even getting into the lack of knowledge transfer!

We can't even get people to believe things like "okay so a lot of illness is caused by tiny things you can't see, and believe it or not the best treatment isn't thoughts and prayers or willpower or even bootstraps, it's covering your mouth and nose when you're sick or cough or sneeze and it's rubbing your hands together enthusiastically in clean running water with a mild detergent of some kind smeared on them" NOW!

By the shock collar thing isn't a joke. There's an article where the writer goes to one of these rich guy survivalist conference/seminar things and the conversation is pretty much literally...

"Okay so obviously we hire these mercenaries and private security and they've got the guns and we've got the money but, you know, how do we make sure they stay loyal"

"Well...you could try treating them really well and also including their families and taking care of them, so they have an incentive besides a paycheck, build actual loyalty."

*silence*

*hysterical laughter*

"Nice joke but seriously like I saw this movie where they had explosive collars and if they didn't like you or you turn against them or whatever, they blow your head off, does that actually exist yet?'

Say what you will about the robber barons of the 1920s but at least they realized some basics like "give back to the community a smidge so they don't remember they outnumber you" and "generally speaking our beloved capitalism requires other people to have at least a single wafer thin mint of money so the whole thing keeps going." These guys are like "okay but I could have all the money and also more capitalism enabling me to have even more money?"

Okay okay, work with me.

You are Reebok (some shoes they gave you, it said Reebok, that's your name) Smithandwesson (your gun, which you were issued at birth, as this is post apocalyptic Libertopia). You are a gate guard for the Republic of Cleveland, which is a thing, and isn't really a republic, but since you were born post-Event you don't have much of an understanding of what a Republic even is. But you have a job and that is okay because you have a weapon and a bunk in the barracks and you are basically fed and supplied. Maybe if you fantasize, you think about running one of the outer satrapys some day. But you are not a Founder. The idea of Moving Fast and Breaking Things seems odd, because things are hard to fix and replace.

You don't have an inkling or idea of what "shareholder value" is. You poor dumb son of a bitch. You will never earn incredible returns and work a 4 Hour Workweek and retire at 35 to give TED talks about ayahuasca and microdosing hallucinogens to crush code and design Wireframes for cutting edge AR devices to stream Burning Man and meet new angel investors.

You know some of these words, but they are words and the important ones are different for you.

Your job is actually kind of interesting. You don't really make the final decision about who gets to be a citizen or a concubine or a slave or even a fellow gate guard. You just kind of do a screening to see, you know, does this person seem more or less healthy and useful. Because even glorious Cleveland requires a certain trade of useful labor of some kind in exchange for the hassle of getting you clothes and food and shelter, all of which are in short supply.

Sometimes you vaguely wonder who Cleve was and why this is his Land, but not deeply, more daydreaming between people approaching, petitioners, traders, madmen, the occasional raid. It's interesting enough, every day is a little different, and it beats the poor wretches who toil in the field. You don't get to do deep evaluations but you kind of pride yourself on deciding who gets to enter. Really deciding who will be a future citizen or slave and who gets gently herded away or shot at or shot depending on a variety of factors. You're not a murderer exactly but killing is a casual decision, sometimes a matter of self defense, sometimes an act of compassion like putting down a mad animal.

Zucc or Jack Dorsey or Jeff Bezos have emerged from their bunkers tanned and rested and ready to deliver a ton of value to the post-apocalyptic shareholders, especially now that the idea of "national government" is gone. Free at last to disrupt, unhindered.

But...

There's not a Ted Talk in sight. You wonder whose job it was to maintain the ATM network. Jim Cramer isn't returning your calls. Actually, you can't get any calls. Nobody seems interested in having a breakout session. There are definitely NOT butts in seats at the office, much less meetings or presidential runs. Elon is unreachable. Weirdly, nobody seems to know how the whole Mars thing is going. Or what Mars is.

Over a period of time even the most promising 30 under 30 begins to break down and admit that okay, I cannot find a single sushi restaurant of any kind.

Nobody seems to offer you a kombucha.

There is plenty of raw water but there also seem to be a LOT of people dying of waterborne disease, which is odd, since this is the most pure and organic and unfiltered water possible, especially since toxins seem to be unknown. Nobody knows what they are anyway or that Gwyneth had a great way to shit them all out and get it over with.

Using acai, isn't that cool? It's a superfood.

Through time and necessity and plot device, Bezos or Zucc or Dorsey have arrived in front of you, reduced finally to asking for refuge or sustenance or food it doesn't have to be organic but it would be nice, you know.

There is an air of desperation about them but you know enough to put it down to hunger and theist and some loss of status perhaps. But you steer the conversation to the thing you really care about: what skills do they bring? How can they be of use?

They do seem to think they are extremely important but don't seem to be able to tell you what they actually do. You sort of get the idea of "thought leadership," But telling other people how to be in charge when you don't have a rifle, much less 300 mounted troops, seems odd. Why would they listen? They plead with you but you don't really get why it's important all voices be represented in the conversation about Star Wars, even those we find loathsome. You didn't even know the Stars were at War much less who they were fighting.

But it's kind of fascinating.

They don't quite sound completely gone but they do seem deeply convinced that they "deliver shareholders value" by optimizing bottom lines and making tough choices.

You snort.

Whether to try the "meat" on Wednesdays, now THAT is a tough choice.

While this is an interesting bit of novelty for a while, you soon grow bored.

Maybe you send them away.

One tells you he is the richest man in the world but seems to be offering you stock options but you can't figure out why you would want the chance to maybe buy some things at a reduced price and then sell them later at a high price if Previous Performance Indicates Future Results which it definitely DOES NOT wink wink.

Maybe you send them onward because they seem reasonably lucid despite being convinced they went to Space as a Real Astronaut, whatever that meant. Many "important" men found out their choice now was to shovel shit or starve. Most shoveled. Some starved.

But you always wonder if you were missing something. It was kind of weird how convinced they were that you should've heard of them or a book of...collected faces, apparently. To say nothing of the very odd man convinced getting a wide array of opinion on the gender of some manner of knight was of life or death importance. Knights were hard to find. And who is Jed I. anyway?

Oh, well, another day on the gate.

[elthadriel]

Clean up that Blood all over your Hands

During their time in SEP Jack made Gabriel a promise that he intended to keep. He just wished it hadn't had to be under these circumstances.

Tags:  Major Character Death, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Hurt No Comfort, Sad Ending, SEP era, Post-Recall

Read on Ao3

“Need help”

  Jack went from half asleep, squinting into the too bright light of his phone, to completely awake, jolting out of bed in a faction of a second on reading the text. He almost fell in his hurry to pull on his trousers while still staggering to the door of his room. Gabriel’s room was only just across the corridor from his own, but even that felt like to far.

  They had lost two people to this round of drugs already.

  Gabriel’s door was unlocked, they had all stopped locking their doors at some point into this hell.

  “Here,” Gabriel croaked, voice barely more than a horse whisper. He was curled into the corner of his en-suite by the toilet. He apparently hadn’t made it there in time, as there was vomit down the front of his shirt. That wasn’t overly concerning, Jack was throwing up nearly every other day at this point in the experiments, but the sweat soaking through his clothes was.

“Shit, Gabe.” Jack dropped down in front of his friend, pressing a hand to his forehead. It was clammy and unnaturally hot.

  “Bad reaction today’s dose.”  Gabriel tried to laugh but it quickly turn into a hacking cough.

  “I didn’t know you were getting more today.” Jack started to help Gabriel out of his shirt, revealing even more burning skin. There had been jokes the first time they had had to help strip the other, but they had passed the point where this was even a little funny a long time ago.

  “Me neither. Told me after dinner.” Gabriel was trying his best to help, but he was almost a deadweight, clearly struggling to even lift his arms.

  God, this was going to kill them both.

  “Fuckers.”

  Gabriel grinned, revealing blood between his teeth; he had a habit of biting his cheek when he was in pain.

  “I’m gonna get your ass into a cool shower, try and get your temperature down,” Jack said. Gabriel had probably meant to try that himself, but he didn’t look like had the strength to even crawl across the bathroom, never mind stand to turn the shower on.

  “My Prince Charming.” Gabriel drawled, slumping back into the wall without Jack there to support him.

  Jack put the shower on as strong as it could manage; at least the government had supplied them with showers with great pressure. Jack stripped off his own clothes, dropping them into a heap before turning back to collect Gabriel. “Which princess does that make you then?”

  “I always thought of myself as a Jasmine.” Gabriel said, managing a slightly pained smirk.

  Jack hauled Gabriel up, ignoring how his own muscles, pushed to the limit by his own cocktail of drugs, ached at the effort. He was getting stronger by the day, but the strain on his muscles was unforgiving.

  “Jesus, Gabe, how much did you eat today? You weigh a tonne,” Jack asked, trying to lighten the mood, as if everyone in the program weren’t eating enough for three regular, non-lab rat soldiers, and as if the evidence of Gabe’s dinner wasn’t all over the bathroom floor.

  “You shouldn’t have skipped leg day,” Gabriel said. To his credit, he was trying to carry as much of his own weight as he could, but he looked a pale from the effort.

  “Fucking hell, I’m shocked the god damn carpet can even fly with your fat ass on it. Jasmine is the one from Aladdin right? I haven’t seen one of those movies in ages.” They technically had plenty of downtime, but they spent most of it either suffering awful side effects or wired to the point of paranoia, running laps for hours trying to get rid of the anxious energy.

  Still, they should try and have a quiet evening and just watch some films; it would do them both good.

  If the experiments didn’t kill them first.

  Gabriel laughed, before it broke quickly down into awful retching. Jack barely managed to keep Gabriel on his feet as he staggered, bending almost in half. Blood splattered onto the floor. Jack would have tried to convince Gabriel to go to the med bay, if he thought for a second Gabriel would agree, or that the doctors would have better advice than shrugging and telling them to wait it out.

  “Fuck, Jack, it hurts.”

  “I know, sweetheart, I know.” Jack half carried, half dragged Gabriel the last couple of feet to the shower, letting him sink back to the ground once he was under the spray. Gabriel flinched from the water, though it was tepid at worst.

  “Was there blood in your vomit?” Jack asked, concerned at how natural questions like that had become.

  Gabriel shook his head.

  “Just the fever, and vomiting?”

  “I was shivering earlier, even though I wasn’t cold.” He let out a full body shudder. “I’m cold now.”

  Gabriel’s skin was still feverish under Jack’s hands.

  “You’re being a baby, I used to have to take cold showers before school, and it’s not that bad.”

  “Oh yeah, and then you walked uphill both ways?” Gabriel said with a smile though he was still hunching away from the spray.

  There wasn’t enough room in the shower for both of them, but Jack squeezed down next to Gabriel anyway. Their sides were pressed tight together. Normally Jack liked the heat of Gabriel pressing up against him, but now it made him worry. What would happen if he they couldn’t get his temperature down? They’d already lost a couple of others to fevers.

  “Of course, and in the snow, don’t forget about the snow.”

  Gabriel rested his head on Jack’s shoulder. It was hard to tell with the water, but it looked like he might be starting to cry. Jack was almost tempted to join him. He was so fucking tired.

  “I know you aren’t as much of a farm boy as you pretend to be, Jackie,” Gabriel mumbled, barely audible over the sound of the shower.

  Jack smiled despite himself. “Don’t say that too loud, half of my personality is built of people thinking my best friend growing up was a cow.”

  “Don’t say that about your mother, Morrison.”

  “Oh fuck you, Reyes. I’ll leave your ass in your own bile next time if you don’t stop talking shit.”

  “No, you won’t.”

  Jack turned and pressed a kiss into Gabriel’s hair.

  “No, I won’t.”

  ---

  Their skin was starting to prune by the time Gabriel’s temperature finally dropped down enough that Jack felt safe getting him out of the shower. He carefully washed Gabriel’s hair first, cleaning out the sweat and remains of vomit. Gabriel was mostly silent, but he leant into Jack’s hands.

  They both got awful headaches that had become so standard they barely warranted mentioning. Jack had lost track of the amount of times they had sat one of them with their head in the other’s lap, an amateur head massage the only thing stopping them from going totally crazy.

  Sometimes Jack forgot he’d only known Gabriel a few months; it felt like a lifetime.

  “You think you can sleep?” Jack asked, carefully hauling Gabriel to his feet. Gabriel was standing a little more under his own weight now, but still leant heavily on Jack. They shuffled awkwardly across the wet tiles, careful not to slip.

  Gabriel shock his head, accepting a towel from Jack. “Still hurts,” he grunted, but didn’t elaborate. He didn’t really need to, Jack was all too familiar with the engulfing pain the drugs could bring. It made their blood feel like fire, burning them up from the inside. They couldn’t last much more of this.

  He led Gabriel to the bed anyway, leaving him with the towel across his shoulders while he went to find a clean pair of sweats, dragging an extra set from the drawer for himself. His own abandoned in the bathroom.

  Gabriel was shaking again, tiny little moments across his shoulders and down his arms.

  “Put this on, I’ve seen more than enough of your ass for one day.”

  Gabriel smiled weakly, either too tired to make a comment about how no one could tire of seeing his ass, or spending great restraint to hold the comment back. He took the trousers either way, managing to put them on without the help he had needed to get undressed. He couldn’t keep his hands steady, but Jack pretended not to notice as he dressed himself.

  “Thanks for helping,” Gabriel said, sitting in the far corner of the bed, giving Jack plenty of room to sit down beside him. Somehow they ended up pressed up against each other all the same. “I couldn’t move, or really think, I was just fixated on the idea that this could be hit, ya know, that I could die on the floor of a shitty bathroom, in a shitty army base, and who knows how long it would take them to even find me. Who even knows what they do with our bodies, probably cut us up and do just a couple more tests.”

  “Breathe,” Jack interjected, placing a hand soothingly on the back of Gabriel’s neck.

  Gabriel did was he was told, breathing deeply. “Fuck Jack, I’m so tired of being this scared.”

  “Yeah.” Jack wished he had something clever, or meaningful to say, something to make the situation better.

  “I don’t know if how much longer we’ll last.” Gabriel drew up his knees, staring blankly past Jack’s head.

  “Fuck that, don’t talk like we don’t have a chance.” Staying hopeful was becoming harder each day, but the idea that death was unavoidable was unacceptable.

  “Tommy died this morning.”

  Jack froze.

  “What-”

  “Heart attack.”

  Jack’s hands were trembling.

  “We’re gonna die, Jackie.” Jack opened his mouth to interrupt but Gabriel ploughed on. “I’ve been trying to stay positive, but fuck, there’s four of us left, and I’m out of justifications of why I’m gonna live while everyone else dies.”

  “Justifications?”

  “It’s fucked up, but shit like I was stronger than them, or smarter, like they deserved it, anything to keep myself from accepting there was nothing I could do, because being helpless to this is,” He swallowed, “real fucking depressing.” Gabriel laughed, empty and hollow. “But with Tommy, and Zoe earlier this week, they were better than my sorry ass. If this shit got them, it’s gonna get me. It’s gonna get all of us.”

  “They said they think they are close to stabilising it.” Jack hadn’t really believed it when the doctor had first cheerfully shared this information with him, and it sounded even less believable coming from his mouth. Gabriel certainly seemed unconvinced.

  “I’ll believe it when we stop dropping dead because our bodies either can’t take the strain, or the poison is just a little too lethal.” Gabriel’s eyes were unfocused. “I mean look at us Jackie, my body is freaking the fuck out every other day, and each round of drugs is only making it worse, and you were unconscious for three days after your last shot, and they called that a good sign.”

  Gabriel ran a hand through his hair, hysteria flirting at the edge of his voice.

  “They’re killing us.”

  Jack was crying, he couldn’t help it. He wanted to have faith that they could make it through this, but he was so fucking scared.

  “Jack just, shit, can you just do one thing for me.”

  “Anything.”

  “I’m okay with dying, I really am, this was worth trying if it could have helped in the war, just. Please, I don’t want to die alone.”

  Jack couldn’t help but feel it was an empty comfort, having someone beside him as he died, but he would walk through fire for Gabriel, he could give him this.

  “You won’t.” Jack only hoped he'd be able to keep that promise.

  “You’ll stay?”

  “Course. I’ll be here.”

  Gabriel visibly relaxed. “Thanks.”

  “Not this week though, I have shit planned, so you’re gonna have to put off the whole dying thing for a while, how does six decades from now sound?” He tried desperately to drag the tone back to something lighter.

  “Sure thing, Jack, I’ll try and make sure my death is convenient to you,” Gabriel said drily.

  Jack wanted to kiss him, but pushed down the urge. When they’d both made it out of this hell, he’d kiss the bastard, but right now it felt too much like desperation.

  “Fucking right you will.”

  Gabriel smiled, and it might even have been sincere.

  *******

  When they finally took Reaper down, he didn’t go quietly.

  Ana was dead, for good this time. Reaper had put a round of one his shotguns through her face, splattering gore across the wall behind her, apparently without an ounce of regret. She had managed to stick him with one of her darts, too late to save herself, but enough to slow Reaper down, enough for Jack to unload more shots into him than any living creature should be able to take.

  He still wasn’t dead, still trying to struggle to his feet, even as his limbs turned to smoke around him, and his blood, covered the ground. He was snarling like a cornered animal, reaching desperately for one of his guns, metres out of his reach.

  “Lena, take the others and get out of here, I’ll join you shortly.” It hurt to talk, his voice wrecked from all the shouting he had done.

  “You sure, Jack?” Tracer flittered anxiously around in the corner of his vision. “He’s still dangerous.”

  “I’m sure. Get Winston to a doctor, see how much of his arm they can save. I’ll finish up here.” It was stupid risk to take, after all they had sacrificed to get to this point, but Jack had always been a little stupid when it had come to Gabriel.

  He walked as close as he dared before slipping to the floor, crossing his legs, and placing his gun to the side, but still very much in reach.

  “Gabe?”

  Reaper’s mask was cracked, a chunk of it missing down the left side of his face. There was smoke escaping his mouth and nose as he panted, and leaked from the corner of his eyes. His skin was a pasty grey, stretched too tight across his skull. He looked like he had died some time ago.

  The edges of Reaper’s mouth curled into a snarl, and he abandoned his doomed attempt to reclaim his gun, to making an equally fruitless swipe at Jack. He let out a howl of pain from the effort. Fuck, there was so much blood.

  “Say what you want to say, Morrison,” Reaper rasped.

  Sometimes Jack had been able to look at Reaper, even at his worst, and still see part of Gabriel there, in the way he had stood, or something he had said. Now, curled up on himself, dying but still ready to cause as much damage as he could on the way out, there was nothing recognisable left.

  “I’m not here to say anything.”

  “Nothing to say?” Gabriel laughed, and then choked, coughing blood and smoke up onto the ground. “That’s a first.”

  Jack didn’t say anything, but reached up and unclipped his mask, pulling it from his face and placing it down next to his gun. Without it, his vision in his periphery blurred. He wanted to see Gabriel without technology altering his perception.

  Gabriel tried once again to push himself up, but slammed hard back into the ground, letting out a guttural moan of pain. Jack stayed silent as Gabriel drew steadying breaths.

  “Just here to gloat then? Either put me out of my misery or let me die in peace, Seventy-Six.” Reaper sounded as tired as Jack felt even as he tried to bury it under layers of rage.

  Gabriel’s eyes had been the prettiest brown once, but now there was only the thinnest hint of colour around his eerily big pupils, and the whites bloodshot to hell. Jack might have assumed it was a side effect of dying, but Ana had commented on them when she had seen him without his mask. She had seen many people high on all sort of things, but had said none of it had made anyone’s pupils so large.

  “Will you take your mask off at least?” It was foolish to get emotional, but Jack wasn’t sure how he was meant to do anything else.

  Reaper, surprisingly tried to comply, but his hands were so slick with blood he couldn’t get a grip, hands slipping uselessly off the faceplate. Jack, abandoning any caution he had left, shifted closer.

  Reaper’s hand slammed closed around Jack’s wrist as he reached for the mask, but even without testing it Jack could tell he would easily be able to break free. Still, he allowed Reaper the appearance of control and stilled his hand.

  “What the fuck do you want, Jack?” It would be so easy to reach out and touch the bare skin of Gabriel’s face. They had touched before, since Switzerland, but not without layers of leather between them.

  “I promised I wouldn’t let you die alone.”

  Reaper had already been struggling to hid how much pain he was in, but he the expression on his face suggested that hurt more than any of the bullets Overwatch had put into him. His grip slackened and Jack close his fingers around the remains of Reaper’s faceplate. He wasn’t sure what he was expecting, perhaps some great insight into what had happened to his partner, but instead there was more of the same discoloured skin.

  Reaper looked up at him, teeth bared.

  “You think you can change the fact you killed me, with some promise you made forty years ago?” He looked desperate.

  Jack shook his head. He slumped over a little, tugging Reaper’s closer, so he was across his lap, rather than on the ground. Reaper’s blood soaked through his trousers almost instantly. No normal human should be able to lose this much blood.

  “Fuck you, Jack, all of this is on you, you did this.”

  Jack knew Reaper was just trying to hurt him, some final, desperate attempt to cause just a little more pain.

  It still hurt. It was at least partially true after all. Gabriel and Jack had both been just as responsible in the others’ downfall as their own, but it was hard to say they had both faired as badly when Gabriel was bleeding out and Jack was going to walk away from it all.

  It had always been like that, Jack landing on his feet, while the universe conspired to fuck Gabriel over.

  “It shouldn’t have been like this,” he said at last. He wasn’t willing to apologise, not after everything Gabriel had done, he wasn’t even sure he could admit fault out loud. If this had been Gabriel he might have been able to do both, but to this shell, acknowledging the unfairness of it was the most he could offer.

  Reaper laughed, and the bitter tone made Jack whined. “I hope you suffer for this,” Reaper hissed, “I hope it haunts you.”

  Jack didn’t have anything to say to that.

  “I was going to marry you,” Jack said after a long silence. He wasn’t sure why he was saying this now, knowing it would hurt Reaper as much as it hurt him. “I was going to be with you forever. I figured we’d retire, eventually, and head back down to Cali, get a house or something, a couple of dogs. Shit Gabe, I was going to spend my whole life with you.”

  “Stop.” Reaper said, sounding more like Gabriel than he had in years. Jack ignored him all the same.

  “I loved you.” Jack said softly. “Why did you do this to us, Gabe?”

  Reaper twisted in his grasp, lashing out, clawed gloves slashing across Jack’s face leaving two shallow cuts across Jack’s jaw. Subduing Reaper was easy even as he struggled, and Reaper’s strength abandoned him quickly. He slumped back across Jack, breathing heavily.

  “Fuck you,” he managed between gasps. “I hate you.”

  “I know.” Tears pooled around the edges of Jack’s eyes, blurring his vision even more. Maybe it was better if he couldn’t see, it was easier to pretend the familiar weight in his arms was still Gabriel.

  “Then go, leave me. Don’t make me endure your bullshit now.”

  “I’m not leaving.”

  Reaper laughed again, loud and manic. “You can’t even do this for me. I ask you one fucking thing one my deathbed and you still can’t do it for me. You selfish son-of-a-bitch.”

  “I promised.”

  “I think the situation has changed just a little since then,” Reaper said.

  He wasn’t wrong, and maybe it would be kinder, for both of them, to leave. Jack couldn’t bring himself to move.

  “Say something,” Reaper snarled, he grabbed Jack’s throat, but it was easy to tug Reaper’s fingers away from Jack’s airways, too easy. Reaper’s strength was failing.

  “What do you want me to say?” Jack couldn’t help but push the strands of hair that had fallen across Gabriel’s forehead back. His skin was as cold as it looked.

  “Anything.” Reaper’s chest was heaving, each breathe painful and laboured. “That I did this to myself, that I deserve this, that you hate me, anything.”

  Jack wet his lips. “I don’t think you deserved this.”

  Reaper was staring past him, up at the sky. His hand had slipped down from Jack’s throat and was clutching weakly at the front of his shirt.

  “But you do hate me?”

  “Sometimes.” Jack was too tired to lie anymore; surprising, as he had always been so good at it. A dashing smile and an earnest tone, and no one would doubt a word that came out of his mouth.

  Reaper looked relieved and Jack wished he knew what he had been thinking, wished he had time to ask what he had been thinking since everything had gone to shit.

  “I still loved you at times too, though, but hating you was easier than trying to make sense of how I could love you and fight you at the same time.” He wished there had been some closure for either of them, rather than the trauma of losing him, and then raw pain of getting him back and realising what he had become all in the same moment.

  Reaper’s face twisted into something that might have been a smile. “Yeah.”

  The light was starting to fade, and his eyes weren’t good in the dark. Soon he wouldn’t be able to make out anything more than rough shapes. Reaper’s breath was weakening.

  “I’d still kill you,” Reaper said, “if I could reach my gun, or overpower you. If I could I’d make you die with me.”

  Jack cupped Reaper’s jaw, running his thumb across his cheek.

  “I know.”

  Reaper fell silent, only the rise and fall of his chest indicating he was still alive.

  Eventually, even that ceased.

  Jack pushed Gabriel’s corpse off his lap and collected his gun and mask from the ground. They had prepared for this, and Tracer had left the supplies behind. He poured lighter fluid over the body and lit a match. Reaper’s body went up in flames but he didn’t stay to watch.

  He contemplated collecting Ana’s body, but found he didn’t have the stomach for it. Someone would have to come perform clean up anyway, they could handle it along with the burnt remains of Reaper.

  He was done with this.

[sweetcontradiction]

The Bet

ICYMI: Part 1

PART 2

Distributing all her toys, Charlotte handed Charlie a handful of figurines, hoping he’d find one that he liked enough to play with in her dolls’ house. She smiled in relief when he eagerly took two out of her hand and shuffled over to join her by the gigantic pink house situated in the corner of the room by the bay window. He looked on in awe at the glimmering white door, the white trim to the pink paint and the immaculate white roof; even with the intricate details inside from the staircase to the homely kitchen, he didn’t care if it was considered a ‘girl’ toy - he wanted one.

Charlotte looked on in pride as Charlie sat awestruck but as she moved the wooden baby into its crib and deposited the mom in the kitchen with the dad just like own parents were, she couldn’t help but notice Charlie’s eyes were averting to something else.

“What’s that?”

Following his eyes, Charlotte traced his gaze to the massive picture frame on the main wall of her house, above the mantel.

“That’s momma and daddy…” she answered, confused. Although the picture was taken before she was born, she figured they hadn’t changed so much to the point of being unrecognizable.

“When?” Charlie asked, not taking his eyes off Charlotte’s parents on the canvas.

“On the day they got married.” Charlotte beamed. “Momma’s in her white dress.”

It was her favorite picture in the house, it even beat the family portraits where she was the center of attention or the many dog photoshoots she had been included in; her mom wanting all her babies in one big picture. She loved how happy Miranda and Anderson looked, his arm slung neatly around her waist as they gazed up at each other.

Not thinking anything of Charlie’s fixation on the picture, Charlotte let it go. Most people who visited the farm always complimented it. Just as she was about to pick the mom figurine back up, she heard Miranda call from the kitchen that lunch was ready.

As she darted into the adjoining room with Charlie in tow, she pushed herself up onto a stool and stared at the array of sandwiches and fruits Miranda had prepared. Whilst the pair dove in, Miranda smiled to herself, happy that the food was going down well. When Luna reached out to her, she laughed, her little hands squeezing together to make a milking motion - she knew what that undoubtedly meant.

“I’ll feed her upstairs.” she whispered, taking her baby from her husband and making her way to the nursery; Charlie and Charlotte so engrossed in their lunch that they didn’t even notice she had left.

Once the pair had demolished everything in sight, Anderson suggested that they watch a movie to try and calm them down. He was pretty confident with the amount of talking Charlotte had been doing that she needed some time to recuperate. As he waited for them to decide on the Lion King, Anderson took a seat on the couch, moving Luna’s pink blanket out of the way so it didn’t bother them but his eyes almost popped out when his little girl’s friend toddled over to him.

“Can I use your bathroom?” he tried to whisper, a little shy. He would have much preferred Miranda and her warm smile but with her disappearance, Charlie was left with no choice.

“Sure, buddy. It’s upstairs, it’s the second room as soon as you walk up.”

Charlie nodded his head and mustered a quick thank you before running upstairs and trying to recall what Anderson had just told him. All the room doors looked exactly the same and he couldn’t quite remember if he said the second or third. Trying his luck on one, he twisted the handle and walked in, surprised when he saw Miranda sitting in the armchair in the corner of the room with Luna cradled in her arms.

“I’m s-s-sorry. I-I—“

“It’s okay, honey.” Miranda smiled, not fazed by the little boy interrupting her. He seemed more shaken up than he should be. Luna evidently didn’t care either as she continued to squeeze at her mom’s breast to ensure her lunch wasn’t going to be cut short. “What are you looking for?”

“The bathroom.”

“It’s next door.”

Stuttering a thank you, Charlie turned around to leave but his curiosity got the better of him and he whipped his body around once again to face Miranda.

“What are you doing?”

Miranda beckoned him over, hating how nervous the little boy looked cowered over by the door. She watched as he made his way over timidly, still keeping his distance from the armchair Miranda was situated in but his eyes remained on Luna.

“You know how you had your lunch?” she began, trying to start up a little conversation. All Charlotte’s other friends were inquisitive too but none were as shy as this little boy. When he nodded his head, she continued. “Luna is having hers right now.”

Charlie shot her a look of confusion, his eyes diverting up to her welcoming face as she kept her grip on the one-year-old. He didn’t have any siblings so he had never seen a baby being fed before and from what he saw it looked uncomfortable.

“You make food?”

Miranda chuckled.

“Yeah, I guess. Only milk though, nothing special.”

Charlie looked on, completely fascinated. He watched as Luna sucked for dear life, her eyes rolling back as she held onto her mom.

“Did my mom do that with me?”

“Probably.” she smiled. “Just like I did with Charlotte.”

Once Luna had finally had enough and her mouth let go of Miranda, she gave out a long and happy sigh, her body inching closer to her mom’s as she began to give into her tiredness.

“This part is less fun.” Miranda told him, pulling her shirt back down over her chest. As she lifted Luna over her shoulder and began to softly pat her back, Charlie agreed with her, said a quick goodbye and wandered off to the find the bathroom.

“He’s a nice little boy, isn’t he babe?” Miranda asked Luna but her only response was a loud burp.

—————

Anderson thanked his lucky stars when the credits rolled for the Lion King, he was sure he was one animal away from falling asleep but much to his surprise Charlotte was re-energized and ready for more fun with her friend. Looking out the window, she bounced up and down in excitement when she noticed the rain had stopped.

“We can go back outside!” she hollered, making her way back over to Charlie who was lazing in the big armchair with Bellamy cuddled into his side.

Suggesting a game of basketball to try and tire his little girl out, Anderson smiled when he heard his wife come down the stairs, a sleeping Luna pressed against her chest in a pink wrap. Charlotte seemed just as thrilled with her mom’s presence as she enthusiastically asked her parents to join in too.

“But y’all can’t be in a team together.” she instructed, authority in her voice. “Dad’s too big and that’s not fair on me and Charlie.”

Anderson looked at his wife with a helpless expression but as Miranda bumped his shoulder with her own, he humored her and accepted her forcible request.

“So who’s with whom?”

“I’ll go with Miranda!” Charlie bounced up and down, running over to her and positioning himself in between Charlotte’s parents.

Charlotte just nodded her head, smirking to herself. She knew she hit the jackpot being in her dad’s team. Her mom was useless - always scoring into the wrong net and giving up before the game was even over. With her lack of interest in all sport, she had a feeling it was going to be an easy win.

“Whose team is Luna in?” Charlie asked innocently, looking up at Miranda and completely ignoring Anderson.

“She’s the referee.” Miranda smiled, pointing over to her bouncy chair that was located by the TV. Anderson took that as his cue to go and pick it up and take it into the backyard where they could keep an eye on her and still include her in the fun.

As the five made their way out of the patio doors, followed by a few of the smaller dogs, Charlotte found a basketball in the garage and held it tightly against her chest, hoping if she remained incognito she could start the game and get ahead quickly. Realistically, she knew that was more than likely considering her mom didn’t know the rules.

Making sure Luna was okay in her chair, Miranda moved over to where Charlie was stood, his hands clasped as he looked over at his friend and her dad. Anderson had Charlotte on his hip as he whispered into her ear.

“Do we have a game plan?” he asked Miranda, signaling over to Charlotte. They seemed to be taking it more seriously than his other team member was.

“Of course we do, Charlie. Do whatever it takes to win. If we gotta cheat, we cheat.”

Charlie giggled, liking how upfront Miranda was. She seemed a lot more fun than her husband. As she got ready to attack her daughter for the ball, she bit her lip when a compliment escaped Charlie’s lips.

“You’re really funny…”

“I’m funny, huh?” she grimaced, liking the compliment but cursing deep down. Her horse was getting further and further away from her. She reckoned her husband would never know he told her that so what he didn’t know wouldn’t hurt her chances.

Charlotte dribbled the ball up the makeshift court, trying to dodge Charlie as best she could when he extended his hand to try and hit it out of her hands but her tiny legs were too fast for him and she slowly managed to reach the net, throwing the ball up as it landed perfectly through.

Miranda looked on in dismay, she may not have cared for sports but she was still a sore loser.

“3 points for Charlotte!” Anderson cheered, running over and giving her a high five as they dribbled back. He shot Miranda a wink as she stalked back over to her own side of the court, her hand on her hip.

As the game went on and Miranda and Charlie were getting beaten by almost 15 points, it was time for her to take matters into her own hands. With Charlie too polite to try and attack his little friend for the ball and his intimidation toward her husband, Miranda knew it was up to her. When Charlotte bounced the ball to her dad and he began to dribble his way past Charlie, Miranda seized her opportunity. If there was anyone she could take down - it was her husband.

Sneaking up behind him, Miranda waited until he was almost running before she grabbed him from behind, wrapping her arms around his middle and holding him back. His weight was far too much for her to carry but as she held and gripped him with force, she laughed when he tried to shrug her off.

“That’s not happening!!” she groaned, keeping her grip tight but with one swift motion, Anderson freed himself from his wife’s embrace and passed the ball to Charlotte who was waiting by the net.

When she missed the net by a fraction, Charlotte passed the ball to her dad, hoping his height would help him score another point but as he leaned up to try and hit the target, Miranda came storming at him, her body flying into his. As he tried to wriggle out of her grip, Miranda took extreme measures and kicked his knee cap, celebrating a little too profusely when he crumbled to the ground. But as he fell, Anderson couldn’t resist and grabbed her waist, taking her down with him.

Charlotte and Charlie looked on confused as Miranda and Anderson wrestled on the grass, their arms flying everywhere as Miranda tried to take the ball out of his hands. When she finally did, she held it up in the air and threw it as far away as she could.

“REFEREE” Anderson shouted jokingly, looking over at Luna who looked like she was about to fall asleep. Clearly they were the only two who cared about winning.

With Miranda in his lap laughing at her own triumphant interception, Anderson grabbed her hips and pulled her down closer to him, his hands making their way through her sweaty hair.

“You hurt me!”

“You big baby. I could’ve hit you in worse places...” she teased, leaning down and giving his lips a quick kiss, not particularly bothered by the kids’ presence. While Charlotte rolled her eyes at her parents’ affection, Charlie’s eyes didn’t move off Anderson’s hands which rested proudly on Miranda’s hips.

“I’m serious.” he stated looking straight into her eyes. “I may never walk again.”

Moving off his lap, Miranda pressed her lips against his jean-clad knee, allowing her lips to linger for a few seconds before looking back up at her husband.

“Better?”

“Almost…” he smirked, kneeling on the ground and pulling Miranda in closer as he puckered his lips out and let her attack them, her hands covering his face.

Sick of her parents, Charlotte ran off to retrieve the ball, wanting to get the game back up and running as soon as possible. Running back and throwing the ball at Anderson’s back, one strict look from his five-year-old and he knew she wasn’t playing games.

As he held Miranda’s hands and helped her off the ground, he gave her ass a quick pat before running over to Charlotte ready to defeat her once again.

After the father-daughter duo had scored another few baskets, Miranda was ready to call it a day. She could tell her daughter was running out of steam and Charlie’s mom would soon be showing up to collect him. With her hands on her hips, she exhaled a deep breath and made her way over to Anderson but just as she reached him, her breath hitched in her throat when she saw Charlie trip over his own feet and tumble to the ground, gripping his knee just like Anderson had five minutes prior.

“Oh, honey! Are you okay?” she rambled on as she ran over, Anderson and Charlotte right behind her.

Charlie shook his head as he continued to grip his knee, reluctantly removing his hand when Miranda put hers on top of his.

“It looks alright…” she stated, checking it over before looking at her husband for a confirmation. “It doesn’t look like it’ll bruise.”

“It hurts!” Charlie insisted, moving his hand back over the invisible injury.

“Do you wanna put something cold over it?” Miranda suggested, wracking her brain for ideas. “I think we have some cold peas in the freezer…”

“No…” the little boy trailed off, looking Miranda straight in the eye. “Maybe a kiss will help…”

Anderson bit his lip as he tried to keep his laughter in. He desperately wanted to run over and pick up Luna so he could choke but he wanted to see how this went down more. One thing was for sure, he knew he had won not only the game, but the bet.

Miranda didn’t even bother to look back at her husband, knowing his smug face would be too much to handle right now. But as to not dishearten Charlie, she laid her lips on his tiny knee and kissed it. Patting it for good measure, she stood up and ruffled his hair.

“Better?”

“Much.” Charlie said proudly, standing up and running over to Charlotte like nothing had happened.

As the kids ran into the house, Miranda didn’t say a word as she wandered over to pick Luna out of her bouncy chair, her frown turning upside down as her mom held her in her arms and kissed her temple. Picking up the chair, Anderson used his other hand to hold Miranda’s waist, not wanting to say anything. He knew she was aware of the circumstances.

With Luna crawling around the living room babbling to herself while Charlotte and Charlie spoke to each other on the couch, Anderson took the opportunity to spill to his wife. Planting himself into the armchair, he pulled Miranda on top of him, turning her around a little so she was nearing closer to his face.

“Do you think he actually fell?” he whispered so the kids couldn’t hear.

“Maybe…”

“I feel bad for him.” Anderson said, getting Miranda’s attention. She thought her husband would be loving this - especially his part of the bet. “I remember my first crush.”

“Who was it?” Miranda asked in surprise, her voice rising. He had never told her this story before.

“She was my babysitter.”

Miranda kept her lips pursed together as Anderson rubbed her sides.

“My dad had no idea I liked her.” he laughed at the memory. “I was six. She was starting college; tall, brunette, brown eyes. She lived in the same street and I had to see her almost everyday.”

“You poor thing…” Miranda teased, running her fingers through his curls.

“My point is… I would have tried anything to get her attention. I once tried to make her dinner but when I burned the sausage, I had to give her cereal. I know what a little boy’s crush looks like. Especially one that happens to be on my wife.”

“But I’m not tall, brunette or a student…”

“You know that’s not what I mean” he laughed, hitting her playfully. “and besides you’re way hotter than she ever was.”

Miranda smiled, moving in and leaning her head on her husband’s shoulder as they watched Charlotte play with her friend. Each time Charlie turned his head around and smiled at Miranda, Anderson kissed the top of her head. He knew she knew he was crushing hard but he could tell she was embarrassed by it so he chose not to press the subject.

When they finally heard the doorbell ring, Charlotte helped Charlie collect his things before they met Anderson and Miranda at the front door. As Miranda made small talk with Charlie’s mom, Anderson made sure he had all his things.

“Thank you Mike.” Charlie said politely, after being forced to do so. “And thank you, Miranda.”

Anderson watched as his smile grew bigger with that courteous reply.

“You’re very welcome, honey. You’ll need to come over again sometime.”

After Charlie and Charlotte had said their goodbyes, Anderson threw the door shut and gave his wife a heavy sigh. Just as he was about to talk, Charlotte stalked over, taking Luna from her mom’s arms and carrying her back into the living room, ready to play with her again now that her friend was gone.

“I think we should call it a tie.” Miranda stated. “I mean there was no actual evidence. It’s not like he admitted it…”

“He didn’t have to, babe. His face said it all.”

“But that doesn’t count!” she insisted. “If we call it a draw we both win; you get to find that corset in the closet and I get my horse.”

Anderson laughed as her eyes lit up and she clapped her hands together like a child.

“A tie.” he reiterated, extending his hand out to hers and shaking on it once again.  “I’m the only winner, really. You know I was gonna get you that horse long before this bet.”

Miranda smirked, telling him she knew that but the sentiment was there. Just as she was about to lead him into their girls, he held her back by the waist.

“And besides, I have no choice. I’ve gotta keep you on my good side - you have a history of going for younger men…”

Hitting his shoulder, Miranda leaned into him, pretending to be offended by his comment.

As she pressed her hands against his stomach, she looked him straight in the eyes.

“Only one younger guy with curly hair and a guitar. Otherwise I’m not interested…”

————

“Goodnight, baby” Miranda smiled, moving in to kiss Charlotte’s lips as she tucked her in.

Pulling the sheets up past her Aladdin pajamas, Miranda gave her nose one last kiss before moving over to allow her husband to do the same. Their daily ritual.

As Charlotte settled into the sheets with her stuffed dog and Bellamy at the foot of her bed, Anderson turned off the light and was about to leave her when she piped up.

“Momma?”

“Yeah, babe?”

“I had fun today…”

Anderson rolled his eyes, knowing she was trying to prolong bedtime. The same routine happened almost every night.

“I know you did, honey. But it’s time to sleep.”

Charlotte nodded, her body too tired to form any more words but just as her parents were about to close her door, she managed to muster a few final words.

“Charlie really liked you, momma.” she muttered, barely audible. “He said you were really pretty.”

Hitting her husband’s shoulder, Miranda put her finger to her lips, signaling that they weren’t having this conversation again. The bet was well and truly off. And she had lost by a clear mile.

[ruffoverthinksthings]

The Xiongnu and You: A Headcanon Guide to Mulan’s “Huns” in the Descendants Verse

What do you think happened to the Huns after they were sent to the Isle? Personally, I think that Auradon sent most of the Xiongnu (Shan Yu's people) to the isle to avoid future problems.

In my opinion, I think Mulan would have been a better movie if we had mention on why the Huns attacked China. I think it would have shown more than the ‘Good’ vs. ‘Evil’ mentality. I mean, wars happen for a reason, either a legitimate or stupid reason, but a reason regardless.

Like what if the war was because Shan Yu wanted to expand his empire for goods and the economy.

For my fic that I’m writing, I’ve been doing research on Shan Yu’s people, the Xiongnu and the Chinese relations and it’s a lot more complicated than ‘Oh, he’s attacking because he’s evil.’

Wouldn’t been interesting if Shan Yu was a little more complex? Like yeah, he invaded a country and burned down a town, but who's to say that the Chinese army didn’t burn down a Xiongnu village. We only see from Mulan’s POV, so we didn’t see everything at happened during the war throughout all of China.

War is complex and tricky and when written down, it is in the POV of the winners.

My oc, who’s the daughter of Shan Yu is not evil, although she is not the friendliest of people, she takes pride in her people and heritage. I can see her being pissed off in history class at Auradon Prep when they are going through Chinese history and they are portraying her people as barbarians. She states that it’s more complex than that.

@mazuru7

Yes, Auradon did in fact send some or most of the Xiongnu people (or “Huns,” as Mulan misnames them) because of the War with China, and their history before that. Little bit of background context, a mix of historical accounts and my own headcanons because Mulan is an anachronistic mess as is:

The war depicted in the movie happens after the Warring States Period, where the six states of Han, Zhao, Yan, Wei, Chu, and Qi, were conquered and unified by the seventh Qin state, and became the first unified “China.” In my research, there was mention of them expanding into the territories occupied by nomadic people like the Xiongnu, and even the Xiongnu being conquered and enslaved by the various Chinese states during, and before this period.

During the Han Dynasty, the period where the “Great Wall” was built, they have been mentioned to have repeatedly attacked and invaded China, the progress of their societies relying entirely China’s because they constantly sought and demanded “tribute” from them, had marriages between the Xiongnu and China (that didn’t last long or were successful, politically speaking, and weren’t popular decisions--“humiliating” is a word used), and some Chinese leaders that hired Xiongnu generals, only to have them turn against their masters and start their own independent states.

Whether this is necessity after having lost their lands and being forced to rely on China for their daily needs, or the same greed and lust for power that leads other states to go on military conquest and dominate others, is up to you.

What I can say definitively, though, is that yes, the War and Shan Yu’s behaviour was much more than just “Oh, he’s evil.” In Mulan, China is painted as this noble, civilized society that is fighting a war of self-defense, but History is Written by the Winners indeed, and it’s not like many pinnacles of society and progress didn’t bloody their hands and have some ugly, ugly pasts indeed.

Examples and the rest of this long piece below.

Rome was a big fan of the coliseum and going to war to expand their territory, and much of their infrastructure ran on slavery,

Western Europe, which most of Auradon belongs to, invaded, robbed, and conquered numerous countries and indigenous peoples for their own selfish needs, and

America had many sordid business in becoming the “Shining City on the Hill,” like the extermination of Native American tribes, African-American Slavery, and of course, their less than glorious wars, such as the Iraq war.

That the Chinese may have also burned a Xiongnu village is just one “evil” action among many: as mentioned above, the Chinese were the ones that invaded, conquered, and enslaved the nomadic Xiongnu people, and I don’t doubt that what accounts we do have were heavily biased.

Who’s to say that all of the behaviours we’ve seen from them—the raids, the faltering marriages, the betrayal of their Chinese masters—wasn’t done from desperation, necessity, and a desire to turn away from the tyrants that had “corralled them like farm animals,” as I assume Shan Yu might say?

There was also the possibility that before China fused with Auradon, emboldened by their victory against the Huns and the marriage alliance in Mulan’s sequel, they were already well on their way to pushing back against the Xiongnu, exterminating or scattering them to the point where historians don’t even bother to mention them anymore.

Maybe all of the Xiongnu were thrown onto the Isle, maybe some of them were spared, but I can guarantee you that the ones that did end up there alongside Shan Yu are very bitter about their situation, to say the least.

They harbour an inherent distrust and disgust towards Auradon and especially that of China, seeing them as tyrants masquerading as “the Good Guys,” and would rather die before they subscribe to Maleficent’s rule. I imagine that they actually separated from the Isle society at large, ruling either a mountainous, hostile region of the wilds, or being a third party vying for territory and control over the Badlands alongside Queen La and Scar.

Like with China, I’d imagine they frequently get into military and violent conflict with the “inland” Islanders, fighting with them for scraps and disrupting Maleficent’s operations to secure necessary supplies and luxuries, much like the “tributes” from China from before, only much more desperate.

In line with this, the Xiongnu VKs aren’t really part of the culture, seen as outsiders, troublemakers, and enemies that you should never consider working with—if Shan Yu’s Descendant is portrayed as also going to Dragon Hall rather than coming over to raise hell every once in a while, I’m assuming it’s a “know your enemy” sort of deal rather than them “willingly being indoctrinated by your petty immortal empress.”

Both the adults and the kids culture likely relies on these key tenements.

Unbreakable In-Group Loyalty, “the Horde above all else,” with them refusing to be abusive or cruel to each other unless someone truly gets out of line

Militaristic Society, based on a strict hierarchy that decides who controls how many soldiers, who organizes the raids, and who gets to parcel out the spoils of war and who gets to enjoy the “tributes” they extract from Maleficent or the other residents

Shan Yu and his descendants being at the top of this hierarchy, by virtue of infamy and “still having it” when it comes to fending off challengers

“Taker” Mentality, in that they don’t even bother to set up any form of agriculture or permanent living like their ancestors, living true to their nomadic past by shuffling around the Isle and raiding what they need from Maleficent

Strong Emphasis On Military Training And Martial Prowess, though instead of horseback archery, it’s now guerilla tactics, using stealth, shock, and the element of surprise to catch their enemies unaware, or pilfer all of the enemies goods without them ever noticing you’re there

Deity-like Worship To Horses And The “Great Lands Of Old,” a myth they propagate about a bountiful land of pastures where they were free to ride and live, until the “Conquerors” (the Chinese) came, greedily took everything from themselves, forced the Xiongnu to attack them out of desperation, and had the gall to call them the cruel, heartless barbarians and separate them from their ancestral lands forever, trapping them in a hellhole where they would be trapped behind a barrier, forever forced to longingly look at it, but never able to return

Please note that the above is just the Xiongnu belief, and could be actual history from the perspective of the “losing” side, propaganda, or a mix of both, as serves their needs to spur and combine their people towards one common enemy.

Should you, or anyone else wish to play a VK that is either Shan Yu’s descendant (male, female, or non-binary, it doesn’t matter as they’re still of Shan Yu’s blood and sexist ideals falter in the face of need and the lack of infrastructure to support it), or a member of their “Horde,” here’s some behaviours, scenarios, and beliefs you may find useful and a springboard for your ideas:

Anti-Establishment Beliefs, thinking the current state of Auradon like one “giant, gold-plated and gem-encrusted toilet your ‘glorious leader’ sits on like it’s actually a throne,” being disgusted with the laws, rules of civility, and systemic means of oppressing the people and “keeping them in place,” along with a strong desire to rebel, establish their own “free” society, possibly coordinating with the Sidekick League and other outcasts like the Merry Men and Maidens

Strong Anti-Consumer Culture Bent, mostly because I headcanon China as a giant producer and consumer of goods, and they see that the rampant “buy, buy, buy” for more convenience, comfort, and speed has made the Auradonian people “fat, useless, and lazy”

Frequent Run-Ins With the Royal Guard, for raising trouble, stealing without remorse, or intentionally provoking them into combat to test their skills. Because the Guard has spent 20 years without any real fights or combat, and the veterans of actual war are retired or in desk jobs for ageing, the Guard fails, and fails BADLY in the face of the Xiongnu VKs—oftentimes, it takes one hit to down them and they’re disgusted that they don’t even try to get back up

Tourney and Other Sports Emphasis, their way of legally engaging with “war” with the AKs without getting into trouble, treating the trophies like conquests, and abusing the system to gain privilege, legitimacy, and numbers with their new “horde.” I wouldn’t be surprised if they make up a new Xiongnu people united by love of sports, and get in bloody conflict with the Tourney fans from Greece, Sparta especially.

Love Of Horses And The Outdoors, being the ones able to tame and ride the “can’t tame ‘em, can’t ride ‘em” steeds in the stables of Auradon, fond of exploring the forests of Sherwood, the hills of Dunbroch, and the mountains of Arendelle, and generally finding careers as either environmental preservationists, forest rangers, shepherds, or a new breed of highwaymen and raiders making hell for Auradon at large

Alienation And Constant Conflict With The Regular VKs, such as the Rotten Four, the Second Wavers (Freddie, CJ, Zevon, Uma, Gil, Harry, and the rest of the Pirate Crew), and any Third-Onwards Wavers you can think of. These kids were not friends nor even frenemies on the Isle, have probably gotten into some very unfriendly disagreements, and still see each other as competition, what stands between them and getting to eat today or starve, bruised and battered physically and emotionally.

If you have more questions, or you feel this was unsatisfactory, please feel free to ask.

[words-writ-in-starlight]

If you are in the mood to write pain (and, really, when aren't you in the mood to write pain): Rachel/Tobias during the early war

*mean cackling* So when I’m in a very particular moodabout the little girl I used to be and how much she was screwed over, I tend totake it out on my characters.  Ergo, I ambanned from touching my Alleirat story until our houseguest leaves, and willinstead be writing Animorphs because how much worse could I make it.  Sorry.  And since this got pretty long and also there’s not exactly loads ofAnimorphs fic, I crossposted it to AO3.  If you like Animorphs, maybe comment on thatshit or something.

here we stand (with our arms folded)

It hadn’t even been twenty-four hours sincethe disastrous attack on the Yeerk pool, the sun still over the trees at theedge of the forest where it butted up against Cassie’s farm.  The horse she’d morphed, whose quick legs hadsaved Cassie and one single woman the night before, was loose in the field, andRachel was cross-legged on a crate in the barn as Cassie murmured to a woundedrabbit.  Rachel felt dazed, withexhaustion and shock, as if every blink and turn of her head demanded a freshcalibration of her brain, a new moment of I’malive and nothing is okay.  She’dspent an hour in the shower after getting home, with the water as hot as shecould stand, but she could still feel the grit of the Yeerk pool floor on herpalms and feet, and kept expecting to catch a glimpse of Hork-Bajir blood onher human teeth in the mirror.  

Cassie didn’t seem much better, her handsstill where she would usually be smoothly going through her tasks and her voicemindless nonsense, as if she was as numb as Rachel.  The silence wasn’t quite tense, but there wasan unmistakable taut feeling that kept even the noisiest patients subdued andquiet.

“Did Jake say why he wanted to talk to us?”Rachel finally asked, and Cassie glanced up, shaking her head.

“No,” she said. 

Rachel nodded and sat quietly for anothermoment, fidgeting her fingers over the seam of her jeans and trying to hold theanxious question tightening her chest behind her teeth.  Letting out a breath that carefully didn’tshake, she asked, as casually as she could manage, “Have you talked to Tobiastoday?”

Cassie paused for a longer moment at that,considering, and her eyes were more focused when she looked up.  “No, I haven’t,” she said, and offered Rachela small smile, an attempt to reassure. Cassie was good at that, Rachel thought distantly, at beingreassuring—Rachel had never mastered the trick of it.  “But I’m sure he’s fine.  We’re trying not to stand out, remember?  We didn’t exactly run in his social circlebefore, there’s no reason he would have come to find us today.”

Chewing at her lip, Rachel tried to feel reassured.  It didn’t take, and she said, “I didn’t evensee him at school, though.  What if he’shurt, or–”

“Rachel,” Cassie said, peeling off her heavywork gloves and closing the rabbit’s cage. “Calm down.  I barely knew Tobias’name until…yeah.  He’s good at blendingin with the crowd, I’m sure you just missed him.”  She walked over and pushed at Rachel’s legsuntil she dropped them to let Cassie perch beside her.  

Cassie’s close-cropped hair crinkled againstthe skin of Rachel’s neck when she pillowed her head against Rachel’sshoulder—the same shoulder Tobias had perched on the night before, before theywent down into the Yeerk pool, Rachel couldn’t help but think.  Rachel tucked an arm around Cassie’sshoulders and rested her cheek against Cassie’s hair, trying to feel more atease.  She and Cassie had sat togetherand watched movies and talked like this for years, Cassie taking cheerfuladvantage of Rachel’s taller frame to curl up against her side, and under anyother circumstances, Rachel would feel calmer just being able to smell her bestfriend’s cocoa butter and hay scent.

Rachel hadn’t felt calm since theconstruction site, and couldn’t begin to imagine what would repair her.

“I would have noticed him,” Rachel muttered,low enough that she wouldn’t have minded if Cassie had pretended not to hearher.

Cassie straightened up, a curious glintshowing through the layers of weary shock in her eyes, and opened hermouth.  She was cut off by a quiet knockon the barn door.

“Come on in,” she said, a note of forcednormality in her voice.  “It’s just meand Rachel in here.”

“It’s us,” Jake said, pushing the door openand preceding Marco through.  He offeredthem both a faint smile, but Marco, uncharacteristically, looked downrightgrim.  “We need to talk.”

“What’s wrong?” Cassie asked, shifting tostand, and a shadow swept over the dirt floor before the red-tailed hawk sweptthrough the door, flared, and landed neatly on an empty cage.  

“Oh, God, Tobias,” Rachel said, jumping toher feet so quickly a caged fox squalled in surprise, eyeing human and hawkalike with suspicion.  “We were worried,we didn’t see you at school.”

Tobias said, soundingstartled.  

Cassie stood, more slowly but just asserious.  “Jake, what’s going on?”

Tobias said atonce, and when they turned to look at him, he flared his wings, ruffling thefeathers uncomfortably.    He trailed off and Jake sighed.

“Tobias was trapped in the Yeerk pool,” Jakesaid after a moment, and Rachel, in all her years of knowing her cousin, hadnever heard his voice so heavy.  Not eventhe revelation that Tom was a Controller had weighed on him so clearly.  “It took him more than two hours to make itout.”

There was another silence, uglier and darkerthan the one that had hovered between Rachel and Cassie, and Tobias was the oneto break it.

he said bluntly, andhesitated.  

“Don’t be sorry,” Rachel said automatically,and although she recognized her voice in the air, she didn’t seem to be the onespeaking.  Her body seemed to be outsideher reach—somehow, until this precise moment, she didn’t think the reality oftheir situation had quite sunk in.  Thedazed exhaustion from before started to clear, and left something hot andbitter and vengeful in its wake.

“It’s not your fault you were stuck downthere,” Cassie said quietly, and thank God for Cassie, who could always say theright words as Rachel stood and tried to wrestle her voice into obedience.  She could feel her body again, imagined gritand all, and it was trembling with the need to hurt someone for doing this tohim.  She knew that feeling, the burn inher gut as if something toxic wanted to eat through her skin, but now there wasthe wicked murmur at the back of her mind that she could, and it shook her. “Even if you’d been human going in, you’d have been stuck.  And you saved me.”

Her words cut through the tight-wound airlike a blade, and Jake let out a deep breath, his shoulders slumping as heleaned back against a sturdy wooden table. Marco shoved his hands in his pockets, and Cassie sat down on the crateagain.  Rachel, hands knotted into fiststo keep them from shaking and not quite sure that she could bear to sit justyet, leaned against the nearest empty cage to where Tobias had perched.

The five of them looked around at each otherfor a moment, trying to decide what needed to be said.  “What are we going to tell people?” Marcoasked.

“Try and give a crap about the situation fora minute, Marco,” Rachel snapped, the heat flashing into something cutting fora moment.  She regretted the words thesecond she’d spoken them, and Marco bristled at her.

“No, Marco’s right,” Jake said, interveningsmoothly.  He was looking at the ground,near Cassie’s feet, with the wrinkle between his brows that said he wasthinking hard.  “We have to find a way toexplain where Tobias went, we can’t tellanyone.”

Tobias offered, and he sounded like he was trying to make the situation easieron everyone.  

“Dude, you’re missing,” Marco pointedout.  “Like, milk-carton-kidmissing.  We have maybe another day, you can’t file a missing person’s report for afull twenty-four hours.”

Tobias said, pragmatic and blithe.

The fire in Rachel’s chest changed, goingbright white-hot, and she felt her lips twist into a snarl as she pushed awayfrom the cage at her back.  It clattered,and voices called, but she ignored both—she needed out, she needed to be somewhere where it didn’t feel like she was aheartbeat from punching someone she cared about, her best friend or her cousinor even Marco.  

The sun had started to drop behind the trees,outside, and the air was cooler, less stifling than in the barn.  It cooled something in her throat, unwound abit of the tension in her shoulders as she skirted around the wall to the backof the barn, where the shadows of the trees stretched across the field.  Not for the first time in the last week,Rachel wished she’d let Jake convince her to do karate rather than gymnastics,when they were both six and he didn’t want to do it alone—punching somethingwould be really gratifying rightnow.  Instead she pressed her backagainst the wood of the barn and blinked against the burn behind her eyes,fingernails cutting into her palms.

Nothing was fair.  Nothing had been fair, not ever, and shecouldn’t do anything about it.  Theirattack on the Yeerk pool was a failure, the Andalites were God knew how faraway, and Tom, her cousin, who hadn’t questioned her sudden habit of turning upunannounced during the divorce and had just handed her whatever book he’d beenassigned lately for school ‘because Jake only reads comics and boring-ass warstories sorry-for-the-language-Rache’, was a Controller.  And now, God, now Tobias was stuck as a hawk,sweet gentle Tobias who she’d always smiled at in the halls and worried aboutwhen he showed up with bruises.  She’dtried, when she saw him getting into trouble with the bigger guys at theirschool, had dropped a murmur in Jake’s ear and been relieved when she saw hertrustworthy, reliable cousin towering over two guys with Tobias behind hisshoulder.  

And now he wasn’t ever going to be that sweetgentle kid with the solemn eyes and sad smile again, and he believed, reallybelieved, that no one was even going to miss him.

Rachel wanted to kill something.  MaybeTobias’ uncle, or his aunt, or his absent parents, but she’d settle for apunching bag if one made itself available. Maybe the gymnasium had one.

Rachel wasn’t sure how long she’d stoodthere, eyes fixed on nothing and hands clenched so tight it hurt, but theflicker of movement in the corner of her eye startled her.  Red and brown—Tobias, fluttering down to landon the fence near her.

“Sorry,” Rachel said, barely a whisper, andhe cocked his head.

hesaid, almost teasing.  But he was seriouswhen he spoke again.  am sorry, Rachel.>

“You don’t need—I’m not angry at you!” she burst out, and found she wasbreathing hard, the hot thing in her chest shaking to pieces without anoutlet.  “I’m just angry.”  She closed her eyesand scrubbed at them with one hand, catching a stray drop of salt water anddashing it away before more could follow it.

Tobias didn’t say anything as Rachel tried toswallow down the acid in her throat, and she was briefly, desperately, gratefulfor his silence.  She needed it, neededthe space to get herself under control again.

“You shouldn’t be the one being nice to meabout this,” she said at last, when she thought her voice was reliable.  

Tobias was quiet for another moment, then hesaid,  Rachellooked up to meet the fierce eyes of the hawk, and he continued, slow andcareful, as if unsure about his words.  He ruffled his feathersagain, a vague approximation of a human shrug, something vaguely sheepish.  

“I’d miss you,” Rachel said withoutthinking.  “If you just up anddisappeared.”

Tobias’ voice was quiet, almost shy, when heanswered.  

“It’s not fair,” she said.  “This whole stupid war and your whole stupidfamily and this whole stupid two-hour limit. None of it’s fair, and I can’t doanything about it, and I’m just—angry.”

Tobias said, thoughtful.  

“It’s not enough.”

Tobias said, and fluttered into theair again, this time landing on her shoulder. His talons were a careful set of pricks against her skin, not quitepainful, more…itchy.  He was lighter thanhe looked, but a comforting weight on her shoulder nonetheless.  Rachel tipped her head slightly to touch hercheek against his wing, as she had before the Yeerk pool.   

[horror-movie-blog]

HMB: The Beast of Exmoor

Original Publishing Date: June 10th, 2016 

I saw this movie months before June and I thought to myself, "Beast of Exmoor! Fuck! That's a cryptid! I can watch this in Cryptid Month". Well, as it turns out, this movie has nothing to do with the Beast of Exmoor, but I'll get into that in a minute. The movie is about, stop me if your heard this one before, a skeptic and a paranormal investigator investigating sightings of a cryptid. This particular one is called the Beast of Exmoor, famous for its mysterious live stock killings in the United Kingdom. They team up with a big cat tracker to try to find the creature in the moors. I will say I love the establishing shot of the moors. They use a tracking shot, but from a bird's eye view, making the ground look like the tops of tree, only to have the camera pan up and establish we were looking at the grassy ground of the moor. I thought that was a clever establishing shot. But let's get into the problems with the movie. The point of this movie is to find the Beast of Exmoor. Okay, so when making a story like this, you need to give the audience a reason to want the creature captured. Usually it's because the beast has done something terrible, like eat someone, or you can make the characters likable and we follow them along because we want them to succeed. The film doesn't do a good job establishing likable characters nor a motivation to want to capture the creature. Yes, there are attempts, like the cold opening where a young girl is being chased out of the woods by the beast, but we don't know anything about this character for us to give a shit, and that's the worst thing we see the beast do in the film. The rest are implied attacks. Well, that doesn't give us an emotional reason to go after the beast, so there's nothing there for us. But you can make up for this with good characters. The film doesn't even introduce the characters, it starts off at them at a coffee shop talking about the beast. There's simple character development and then there's forgetting to put in character development at all. We don't know anything about these characters other than the girl paranormal investigator is friends with the animal tracker and the skeptic boyfriend worked for some company that had fancy surveillance equipment, which he stole. The movie tries to make up for a lack of character by having these characters say stupid, forced quirky comments all the time. Yeah, okay, try are trying to establish the character as funny, but it doesn't come off that way, and we need more to root for this guy. So let's get into the twist of the movie, although I wouldn't call it a twist seeing how it happens midway through the movie. The Beast of Exmoor is not a cat, but a serial killer. Right out of nowhere. There was no build up to the people being missing, no hints scattered before this scene, it just changes gears to a serial killer movie. Now, I wouldn't mind this twist if there was build up, but like I said, there wasn't. So the animal tracker knew of the killings and didn't report it to police because he wanted to find the serial killer and be a hero. And then what follows is an unnecessarily amount of bitching. The paranormal investigator bitches. The boyfriend bitches. And the animal tracker bitches. The bitch about betray. They bitch about serial killers. They bitch about not trusting each other. Like I know it's hard to understand how people would act if they found out their friend unpurposely brought them to the den of a serial killer to attempt to catch it, I'd imagine there would be a lot of bitching, but instead of being worried how realistic the reactions should be, how about you give us the reactions we want to see? We want to see the investigators suck it up and help their friend nab the killer. So keep the bitching to a minimal so we can get to the good stuff. Is it unrealistic? Yes, but you are telling a story, not real life. Now, the movie then does something I kind of like. It implies that the animal tracker might be the serial killer. Now, to make an effective mystery, you need more than two possibilities. Seeing how the Beast of Exmoor argument isn't ruled out yet, there are three possible killers. The boyfriend doesn't trust the tracker because of sexual frustration the two have over the girlfriend. It's a nice source of conflict and its believable, seeing how crazy the animal tracker is. But what a let down, turns out the serial killer is its own God dam character. Again, this would be fine if there was built up and suspense, but nope, as soon as its suggested that the tracker could be the killer, he's killed by the real killer. But the biggest problem I have with the movie is something I forgot to mention from the beginning and what's scattered throughout the movie. Random, pointless shit that shouldn't be in the film. There's a scene where identical twin gingers throw a molotov cocktail into a car and pushes it at the heroes' van. They only show up again when they were trying to rob the investigator and tried to rape her. Then they vanish from the movie. What was the point of those characters? At first I thought it was to make us think they were the ones committing the murders, but A, they were introduced when we thought the bad guy was the cryptid, not a serial killer, and B, they never hinted that it could have been them. So those characters were useless. There's a character who is a crack head who is introduced in her underwear. Okay, this character makes sense. The tracker brought her in because she saw the beast. But this is horse shit, the tracker just paid her to say that to get the two onboard with his killer hunt. She was important to the story. When then afterwards did they just leave her at the abandon farm is beyond me. And then there's a little girl with an eye patch who is the serial killer's daughter. Why the fuck was she in this? To add more minutes to the run time. One of the "dead" bodies they found came back to life, but this character is more useless then the ginger kids. She doesn't nothing to further the story other than be a nuisance. The heroes are trying to help her but all she does is try to attack them. Writer, we need to sympathize with the victim. That's how it works. If you just cut out all these useless elements in the story, you'd have enough time to build up more character and make us want them to stop the killer. This script feels like a rough draft, in fact, there's a line in the movie, by the eye patch girl, in which she says "Don't go in there" when referring to the investigator leaving the hummer they were in to go back into the woods. She was going outside, and the little girl said, "Don't go in there". Now, this could have been the actor's fault. Or maybe the writer didn't double check his script and forgot to change the words. Either way wouldn't surprise me. Look, it's a good plot, I like the twist and all, but this is a story driven by character, and without character the plot has nothing. The creature does nothing that makes us want to stop him, so it's up to the character to drive the story. These characters are to bland to be interesting, and because of that, the entire movie falls apart. Well that's it. This was longer than my usual blogs, but God dam I had a lot to say. Still, despite everything I just said, it's not the worst film I've seen all year. At the very least it was able to catch my attention at some part and was entertaining at others. So what I'm saying is, it needs a little bit more work before it could be "okay".