#cause ill be blowin shit up

[no1maddoxfan]

i swear if i miss a arc finale cause of a fuckin hurrican im goin straight to jail not even playing anymore this one important

[hysterialevi]

His Name Was Isaac - Ch. 15

Fanfic summary: During a mission to avenge his mother’s death, Isaac hunts down the men responsible for her murder and kills them off one-by-one, only to discover that his last target is taking refuge among the Van der Linde gang. In an attempt to kill them, Isaac attacks the gang and unknowingly becomes enemies with his own father, who is in the process of fighting his own battle for redemption.

Point of view: third-person

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This story is also on AO3

THE NEXT DAY

GRIZZLIES WEST

Resting a hand on the journal’s worn pages, Dutch hesitated to turn to the next chapter as he thought back on the things he’d just read, wondering where everything went wrong.

Just this morning, he finally took the time to sit down and skim through some of Arthur’s private thoughts, only to end up discovering that they were much worse than he expected.

It was evident from the entries that Arthur lost his faith in their gang years ago. His words had no motivation behind them. No hope. No purpose.

They were all just so... bleak, and so full of finality.

It only made Dutch wonder if things were always meant to end this way. If, perhaps, Arthur was meant to turn on him from the start.

He knew the man wouldn’t be able to stick around forever. No one would. Not even Hosea. But the fact that he lost Arthur so quickly and so easily made Dutch question if there was ever a true relationship between them.

If there was, he would’ve given anything to get it back.

“Boss!” Micah’s voice suddenly barked from behind, leading Dutch to look up from the journal.

“What is it?” He asked, still somewhat preoccupied.

The other man sniffed, strolling in his direction through thick snow.

“...We got a problem, Dutch. It’s Bill.” Micah stepped next to him, letting out a disappointed sigh. “I think... he’s cut loose.”

Dutch snapped his head towards Micah in surprise, furrowing his brow.

“What? What do you mean he’s cut loose?”

Micah gestured towards the horizon, casually explaining his thought process.

“I saw some tracks leadin’ to the south from where I sent Bill to investigate last night. His horse is gone too. You ask me, I think he made a run for it. Probably decided to make his way back to New Austin. Try to survive on his own in the desert. He certainly talked about it a lot.”

“You sure it wasn’t somebody else’s tracks?”

The outlaw chuckled. “Who else could it have been? The Pinkertons? They’re mean bastards, I’ll give you that, but I reckon we’re the only ones crazy enough to actually come out here, Dutch. No... I’m pretty sure it was Bill.”

Dutch firmly shut the journal closed, storming off into the distance. “Dammit...! That goddamn coward.”

Micah gazed after him, shrugging in confusion. “You wanna try findin’ him?”

The older man coughed before waving a dismissive hand. “No. We’re here for Arthur and Isaac. No one else. If Bill wants to leave us behind and freeze to death in these mountains, then so be it.”

“Of course, of course. But you should know, Dutch... it’s gonna be trickier, now that it’s just the two of us. ‘Cause as much as I hate Arthur and his lil’ brat, I can’t deny that them boys know how to fight. I mean, look at what they did to my goddamn eye.”

Dutch glanced down at the journal, mindlessly tightening his grip on it. “...I’ll fight Arthur myself if need be. I raised him ever since he was a boy. I know how he thinks.”

The man coughed a few more times, his strength wavering with every jagged breath as the wind howled loudly around them.

“...Listen, son,” Dutch continued, his tone much softer now, “I don’t know how all this is gonna end. I don’t know if... Arthur will kill me, or if the tuberculosis will, but... whatever happens, I appreciate you stayin’ by my side this whole time. You’ve always had my back ever since you joined us, and I won’t forget it.”

Micah grinned, his eyes dark with insincerity. “Of course, Dutch. You’re practically family to me now. There ain’t much I wouldn’t do for you.”

Dutch nodded in reassurance. “I know, son. I know.” 

Slipping the journal back into his satchel, Dutch walked over to his horse and began mounting up, eager to continue his search for Arthur while the day was still young.

“C’mon, Micah.” He beckoned. “We’ve got one last score to settle.”

~~~~~~~~~~

MEANWHILE

NEAR LAKE ISABELLA

“Here,” Isaac said, handing a warm mug to Arthur as the campfire crackled between them. “Drink this.”

The man took the cup in hand, curiously examining the dark liquid inside. “What is it?”

“It’s... medicine, I guess you could say,” Isaac answered. “I made it from some herbs I picked. I was gonna brew it when we got done fishing yesterday, but I never had the chance. It should calm your cough down a bit.”

Arthur raised the mug in appreciation, beaming at the boy. “Thanks, kiddo.”

Isaac held up a hand just before his father could consume the drink, giving him a last-minute warning.

“Oh, um, just so you know -- it’s probably gonna taste like shit.”

Arthur chuckled, bringing the mug to his lips. “Yeah, I figured as much. That tends to be the case with most medicines. Though, it can’t be worse than salted offal.”

He took a sip, immediately grimacing from the bizarre taste. “Jesus Christ, you wasn’t kidding. What kinda herbs did you make this with?”

Isaac smirked at his father’s disgusted expression. “English Mace and Alaskan Ginseng. They’re pretty hard to find in Ambarino, but they’re a common mixture when it comes to curing illnesses. I remember mom always used to make this when I got sick.”

Arthur cocked a brow in interest. “Did she?”

The boy smiled fondly at the memory. “Yeah. I’d always get nervous whenever I saw her makin’ it in the kitchen ‘cause I knew it would taste horrible. But... I can’t really complain. It did its job, after all.”

The older man nodded in a nostalgic manner. “Yep. Eliza always had a knack for takin’ care of people. I remember she’d fret over me every single time I came home, lookin’ to see if I had any stray bullets stuck in me and whatnot.” A sigh escaped Arthur. “Your mother was such a sweet woman. She didn’t deserve the stress I put her through.”

Isaac gave Arthur a gentle look, reminiscing about his times with Eliza. “...She loved you, you know.”

Arthur cupped the warm mug in his hands, setting it down for a moment. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. Mom always talked about you whenever you was away. She could never say much since she didn’t want me to know about your work, but I could tell she missed you. She was never angry, though. She understood why you couldn’t be around.”

Arthur felt a tinge of guilt. “...Did you?”

“Not at the time,” Isaac admitted. “But I do now. You had people to look after. A gang to protect. You couldn’t just abandon them.”

The older man glanced at the ground in remorse. “I guess that’s true. But I still wish I could’ve protected you and Eliza. You were in danger, and I wasn’t there when you needed me.”

Isaac shook his head in disagreement. “It was four men against a woman and her child. Even if you had been there, you probably just would’ve gotten shot with her. And trust me, that’s not what mom woulda wanted. For either of us.”

Arthur found some peace in those words. “...Maybe you’re right.”

Falling into silence for a moment, the two of them quietly enjoyed each other’s company as snowflakes gently fluttered down from the sky, painting the ground around them with a new layer of snow.

The weather was getting colder in this region, or so it felt. It was probably due to the fact that they were further up north than before, but the sun seemed to appear less often these days, and Isaac couldn’t remember the last time he saw anything apart from dying grass and naked trees.

It just made the boy wonder how much longer they had until they’d reach Canada’s border. He had never been anywhere outside of the United States, so the idea of finding freedom in a different country was admittedly daunting for him... but he knew they had to do it.

There was nothing left for them in America. Both of their gangs had scattered to the winds, and it was more than obvious that the age of outlaws was finally dying out. 

Civilization was moving on without them, and if they didn’t catch up, they wouldn’t survive. It was a sad truth about their lives, but one they had to accept.

“Hey, Dad,” Isaac said. “I gotta ask. Did you... hear what Bill said last night? About Dutch bein’ sick with TB?”

Arthur nodded, his tone more serious now. “Yep. It would explain why we’ve both been coughin’ so much.”

The boy sighed. “...I’m sorry. I wish there was somethin’ I could do.”

The older man coughed into his elbow a few times. “You’ve done more than enough, Isaac. Don’t go blamin’ yourself, now. We talked about this.”

“I know,” Isaac replied. “It’s just... hard to accept, you know?”

Arthur took another sip of his drink. “I understand.”

Finishing the rest of his medicine, Arthur put the empty mug down and stood up from his seat, stretching out his arms as he began gathering their stuff.

“Hey, Isaac, why don’t you go make sure the horses are ready? I think it’s time we get movin’ again. We’ve been stuck here long enough.”

The boy followed his father’s actions and headed over to the hitching posts, helping to pack up their camp.

“Okay. You think this weather will hold up? It got pretty bad last night. I just hope there won’t be another storm blowin’ through here before we can... we can...”

Stopping mid-sentence, Isaac’s voice suddenly trailed off into silence as the young man noticed something in the distance, leading Arthur to follow his gaze.

“Isaac?” He called out. “Everything okay?”

The man glanced at Arthur, his tone now low with caution. “Dad, I think I see Pinkertons.”

Taking hold of his gun, the older man instantly strode over to Isaac’s side and stepped protectively in front of him, looking to see who it was approaching them from the horizon.

Their uniforms certainly resembled that of the Pinkertons, but unlike before, it wasn’t just Edgar Ross and Agent Fordham. This time, it looked like they had an entire group of men riding with them, ready to take Arthur and Isaac in at a moment’s notice.

Arthur whispered quietly to the young man as the Pinkertons rode in their direction, making sure to keep his movements subtle.

“Keep your gun close, boy. And be ready to ride when I say so.”

Isaac nodded, taking position near the horses. “Got it.”

Standing his ground, Arthur readied his pistol as the Pinkertons got closer to their camp, causing a trail of snow to wildly spray behind their mounts.

So far, no one was shooting at them, so Arthur took that as a sign that the Pinkertons wanted them alive. But based on the heavy amount of security Ross had brought with him this time, he assumed that lethal force was no longer out of the question.

Arthur would have to do his best to keep things peaceful. There weren’t a lot of places for them to hide out here, and if anyone started firing, he and Isaac would be caught dead in the open.

It was unlikely that they’d be able to run away from this without a fight, but for the sake of not getting Isaac killed, Arthur was sure as hell going to try.

He just had to trust that the boy would do the same.

“Mr. Morgan.” Agent Ross greeted upon reaching the camp, remaining mounted on his horse. The rest of the Pinkertons lined up beside him, keeping their rifles at the ready.

“I’m surprised to see you all the way out here,” Edgar confessed. “I didn’t think you’d risk trying to survive out in this cold, but it seems Mr. Bell was correct.”

That caught Arthur off-guard. “You spoke with Micah?”

The Pinkerton casually adjusted his sleeves, straightening the cuffs. “Regrettably, yes. Not too long ago, actually. He was quite the informant. Said he didn’t know exactly where to find you, but that he suspected you were wandering somewhere in Grizzlies West. Looks like he knew what he was talking about. For once.”

Arthur grunted at that. “I’m sure he did.” He coughed a number of times, trying to stifle it as he spoke. “Look, what d’you want? It’s clear you ain’t just here to chat.”

Edgar’s eyes narrowed. “No, I’m not. We’re done giving second chances, I’m afraid. Though, I’ve given you far more than that, haven’t I?”

The agent took a few steps forward, signaling the other Pinkertons to brace themselves.

“Look, Mr. Morgan, I know we’re both tired of having this same conversation over and over again. Lord knows I am. But I need you to listen to me. Ideally, we would like to capture you alive and have you face full justice, but I think it’s safe to assume by now that you’re not the type to cooperate with the law. Or with anyone, really.”

Ross held up a cautionary finger. “This is why I’m only giving you one last opportunity to comply. Surrender your weapons, and come with us peacefully. Do this, and you have my word that you and your son will not be harmed. Not for now, anyway. Once we return to civilization though, your lives will be in the hands of the law. You will both face a trial, and a judge will sentence you. What happens after that is up to them. If you refuse to surrender, however...”

The Pinkertons prepared their weapons, causing Isaac to grow restless in his position. Arthur threw a side-glance at him, reminding him to stay calm.

“...well,” Edgar continued, “I think you know what’ll come next.”

The outlaw scoffed at the meager offer, glaring at Ross in disbelief. “So, my only options are to either die right here, or let you drag me and my son all the way to Blackwater where you can parade us around before havin’ us swing? You really think that I’ll--” a cough interrupted him, “--that I’ll--”

Another series of coughs came bursting from Arthur’s throat, causing the man to keel over slightly as the Pinkertons watched him from their mounts, waiting for a response.

Meanwhile, Isaac stared at his father in concern and felt the need to rush over to him, but restrained himself out of fear of alarming the Pinkertons.

“...That’s quite a cough.” Edgar remarked plainly.

Arthur spat some blood onto the snow, wiping his mouth. “TB will do that to you. I got it from Dutch himself, apparently.”

“That’s a tough disease.”

“Sure. But it makes your job easier, I suppose.”

Edgar rested his arms on the saddle’s horn. “I know you see us as the bad guys, Mr. Morgan. We’re the ones threatening your livelihood, after all. But what’ll it take for you to see that you’re also threatening the livelihood of others? You people are all about violence, and living in the wild. Your code revolves entirely around one man and his gun versus another man. It’s survival of the fittest, put simply. It’s a living hell.”

Arthur shook his head. “You’re talkin’ philosophy with the wrong man, agent. I done some bad things in my time -- that, I won’t deny -- but I don’t care about any of that no more. Right now, only concern is my son. And as much as you and I may disagree, you are right about one thing. You are a threat to my son’s safety, and there ain’t nothin’ you can do that’ll convince me to let you lay your hands on him.”

The agent sighed in disappointment. “Well, unfortunately for you, there’s nothing that can stop us.”

Realizing that it was pointless trying to dissuade Arthur from the inevitable, Edgar decided to put an end to this chase and reached for his gun, swiftly pulling it out so that he could shoot the man.

Just before he could properly aim however, Arthur quickly caught wind of his intentions and hastily fired a stray bullet, shooting Edgar’s horse in the neck. The creature reared in panic and collapsed to the ground, causing the agent to be trapped under its massive body. 

Though, that didn’t stop the man from pulling the trigger. Despite the unexpected turn of events, Edgar still attempted to take a shot at the outlaw, and before Arthur even had time to react, he suddenly felt a sharp pain hitting him in the abdomen.

It didn’t take long for him to figure out what just happened.

“Father!” Isaac shouted in horror, hurrying to Arthur’s side. He fired two bullets into the line of Pinkertons, taking down an agent with each of them. 

Letting out a strained groan, the boy desperately dragged Arthur over to his horse as the agents continued to fire back at him, only to end up shooting a large tree that stood between them.

“Stay with me, Dad...!” Isaac urged, helping his father onto his horse.

Climbing onto the saddle in front of Arthur, the young man let loose another bullet in the Pinkertons’ direction before bolting off in the other, causing Agent Ross to yell after them.

“Goddammit!” He barked. “Don’t let them escape! And somebody help me out from under this horse!”

~~~~~~~~~~

A FEW MINUTES LATER

NORTHEAST OF LAKE ISABELLA, COLTER

Galloping frantically through the snow as the Pinkertons fervently chased after him, Isaac found himself riding into what looked an abandoned settlement not too far away from Lake Isabella, leading him to come to a halt.

The last thing he wanted to do right now was give the Pinkertons a chance to catch up to him, but with the state that Arthur was currently in, he needed someone to look after his wounds. 

There was already a worrying amount of blood staining the fabric of his shirt, and judging by the roughness of the man’s breathing, Isaac assumed the horse’s sporadic movement wasn’t helping him much either.

He hopped off of Aldo’s saddle, quickly bringing Arthur into his arms.

“I got you, Dad.” Isaac whispered, letting the older man lean on him as he headed inside one of the cabins. “Just hold on.”

Arthur groaned sharply at the pain piercing through him, struggling to keep up with the boy’s pace.

“...What the hell’re you doing...?” He wheezed, pressing a hand on his stomach where the bullet had hit him. “You need... to run...! The Pinkertons--”

“--I’ll worry about the goddamn Pinkertons later!” Isaac dismissed. “I ain’t lettin’ you die. Not like this.”

Kicking the cabin’s flimsy door open, Isaac practically hurled Arthur inside before shutting the entrance again, giving the older man some time to rest on the floor. They couldn’t hear any of the Pinkertons’ voices at the moment, but Isaac knew it wouldn’t be long before they picked up their trail again.

He crouched down next to Arthur, taking a closer look at his injury.

“Shit...” Isaac muttered under his breath, unsure of what to do. He fumbled through his pockets for a minute, desperately searching for anything that could’ve helped. “I... I have some bandages left. Here.”

Stretching the bandages into one long strip, Isaac tightly wrapped them around Arthur’s waist as the man hissed in pain, trying not to make too much noise lest the Pinkertons hear them. 

Blood was already starting to seep through the thin layers of white cloth, and with every agonizing second that slipped by, the more Arthur could feel his energy escaping him.

No, Arthur thought to himself. Not now. Not like this. He couldn’t give up. He just couldn’t. Not after fighting for so long. Not after finding his son after all these years.

He had to stay strong. For Isaac’s sake. The boy was counting on him to survive. He couldn’t die now. He refused to.

“...Dammit...!” Arthur cursed through clenched teeth as Isaac pulled on the bandages. “That son-of-a-bitch got me good...!” 

The outlaw’s body shook with another series of coughs, causing even more blood to gush from the open wound.

Isaac immediately placed his hands on top of the injury and pressed down, doing whatever he could to stop the bleeding. But it was no use.

The red liquid only ended up leaking through the cracks between his fingers, and by now, Arthur’s skin had transformed into an alarmingly pale color. 

His eye sockets were almost purple, and judging by how the man could barely walk right now, Isaac knew there wasn’t much of a chance of him getting out of this alive. But that didn’t mean he was willing to quit.

“Hold on, Dad...” the boy pleaded, “...please. Just hold on.”

“...Isaac...” Arthur groaned out, his voice grating against his throat. 

“You’re gonna be fine.” The boy insisted. “Don’t you give up on me now.”

The outlaw coughed weakly, struggling to get his next words out. “...Isaac, listen to me.”

“You’re gonna be fine.” He repeated, but Arthur knew what was coming. “We just... we just need to...”

“Isaac...!” He said more firmly, gripping the boy’s arm this time. “Listen to me.”

The young man fell silent, his eyes glossy with tears. He looked up at his father, fully aware of what the future held. 

“I’m... I’m dying, son.” Arthur said softly, almost sounding apologetic. “I can feel it. I know... this ain’t how we wanted things to end, but it’s what we’ve come to. It’s what we gotta deal with. You hear me...? I need you... to be strong, Isaac.”

The boy gazed downwards, unable to hide his true emotions. 

“I...I don’t know if I can, Dad. First mom, and now you? I can’t lose both of you. Not after we just found each other again.”

Arthur placed a hand on Isaac’s shoulder, urging the man to keep his composure. “I know it’s difficult, Isaac, but...” a cough rattled his chest, decimating what little energy he had left, “...I know you can still survive this. You’re strong. Much stronger than you realize. You just... have to keep pushing. Just for a little longer.”

Isaac shut his eyes, shaking his head in refusal. “...I ain’t goin’ to Canada without you, Dad. You’re outta your mind if you think I’m gonna leave you behind--”

“--You have to, Isaac...!” Arthur reiterated. “I wish things was different. I do. But look at me. I’m sick, I’m dying... I ain’t much use to anyone in this state. But you... you can still make it. You can still reach the border. You’ll be a free man. You’ll have the chance to start a new life for yourself. One that isn’t full of death, and violence, and fear. It’s the life your mother and I wanted for you.”

“But you said it yourself,” Isaac recalled. “What’s the point of survivin’ if you’ve got no one to care for?”

Arthur’s hand began to slide down Isaac’s shoulder, his exhaustion finally being reflected in his movement.

“You will find other people, Isaac. And besides, life don’t end just ‘cause you’re alone. I’m sure you’ll find someone you love. Someone who... you can start a family with.” A quiet chuckle escaped Arthur. “...Heh. Who knows...? You might even have a son of your own, someday. But whatever happens... you need to get out of Ambarino alive, first. You can’t stay here. You can’t... let me hold you back. You understand?”

Interrupted by the sound of men yelling at each other from outside, Isaac glanced out of one of the windows and suddenly noticed the large presence of Pinkertons closing in on the area, causing Arthur to reach for the boy’s hand.

“Isaac...!” He whispered urgently. “Tell me you understand.”

The young man gazed down at his father, still reluctant to leave him behind. The idea of leaving Arthur alone in the middle of these mountains tore Isaac apart with guilt, but deep down, he knew it had to be done if he wanted to live.

There were far too many Pinkertons for him to fight alone, and if they managed to corner him in this cabin, they’d both be finished.

Isaac would be shipped off to Blackwater to be executed, and all of Arthur’s efforts would’ve been in vain.

He couldn’t let that happen.

“...O-Okay.” The boy finally agreed, his voice trembling softly. “I’ll... I’ll go.”

Arthur appeared content with that and let out a relieved breath, his shoulders now slouching due to the fatigue quickly overtaking his body.

“...Thank you, Isaac.” he murmured weakly. 

Reaching for his satchel’s strap, Arthur slowly pulled the bag off and reached for his gun before handing both of them to Isaac, ensuring that the boy would have some supplies in the wilderness.

“It ain’t much...” Arthur said with a cough, “...but there’re some provisions left in here. They should keep you goin’ for a few more days. And take my pistol, too. You’ll need the extra firepower.”

Isaac cradled the last-minute gifts in his palms, staying quiet as his father lived out his final moments.

“Oh,” the older man remembered, “and there’s one last thing... I want you to take...”

Lifting a shaky hand up, Arthur gently gripped the dented crown of his hat and gave the accessory to Isaac, placing it so that it sat proudly on top of his head.

The hat looked like it was made for the young man, and for just a split second, Arthur almost felt like he was looking at a reflection of his younger self. Isaac had the same ruffled hair, the same blue eyes, and if he looked closely enough, Arthur could’ve sworn he saw some of Eliza’s features hiding behind his expression.

It was the perfect fit, just like when Arthur took the hat from his own father.

“You look just like me when I was younger,” the outlaw reminisced with a faint smile. “...Eliza would’ve been so proud of you. You’ve grown so much.”

Isaac’s sharp gaze softened a bit at the remark. “You think?”

“Well, I know I am.”

Letting his head lean back against the wall, Arthur finally decided to rest and and gazed up at the cabin’s decrepit ceiling, sighing in peace as Isaac stood up from the floor.

This wasn’t quite the death he imagined he would experience, but no matter how cold these mountains were, or how desolate their environment remained, Arthur still considered himself lucky for being able to be with his son in his final moments.

Part of him wished he could simply ignore the pain and follow Isaac out of these woods, but as the edges of his vision started to go black, the more reality began to sink in... and the more Arthur came to accept the fate that had been given to him.

His job in this world was done. His time with Dutch’s gang was over, and his responsibility as a father had been fulfilled. 

Isaac was his own man now. The boy still had much to learn about life and the people around him, but from now on, Arthur would have to trust that he would do the right thing in the future.

It was his journey to lead from this point, and Arthur could only hope that the kid had a better chance at life than he ever did.

It was the only thing he ever wanted for the boy. The only thing he and Dutch ever dreamed of.

Freedom.

“...Isaac...” Arthur whispered, his breath faltering with every syllable, “...if you see Dutch again.... tell him I never hated him. And I’m sorry I weren’t there when he needed me.”

The young man nodded in an assuring manner, trying his best not to break down in front of his father. “I will.”

“...Thank you, son...” The older man said quietly, letting his head tilt to the side. “Thank you.”

On the outside, he might’ve looked miserable to the boy, but on the inside, he was surprisingly content. Arthur found himself flipping through all his memories like an old photo album and recalled the days from when Dutch first met him, all the way to when he finally reunited with Isaac in Tall Trees.

There were so many emotions flowing through him. So many what ifs. So many things he wished he could’ve said when he still had the chance to say them.

He thought about his parents. He thought about Dutch and Hosea -- about their gang. He remembered the days they’d spend riding freely through the open deserts of New Austin, and the nights where they’d share stories around the campfire.

He thought about the years he spent falling in love with Mary. About the life he wished he could’ve had with her.

He remembered the pain of her absence when she decided to marry another man, and the happiness that quickly replaced it when he ran into Eliza a few years later.

But most importantly, Arthur remembered the day Isaac was born. He remembered the feeling of holding him for the first time, and wondering how on earth he was going to raise a family.

The boy was so innocent back then. So pure. He was completely untouched by the troubles of the world, and every time Arthur came home to visit, he’d feel at peace seeing his son’s face again... only to be forced to leave a few days later.

In the beginning, Arthur thought he’d never see Isaac again. He thought that Shay and his men had finished the kid off for good, and that he was condemned to be alone for the rest of his life.

And yet, here he was -- fifteen years later -- a full grown man, and fighting against the world entirely on his own, stronger than ever.

He carried a lifetime of sorrow and remorse with him, but Arthur knew that Isaac was still good at heart. The young man had the same compassion that Eliza held for others, and Arthur couldn’t have been prouder of the boy if he tried.

He loved him more than life itself, but now... he had to leave him behind. One last time.

Finally reaching the end of the road, Arthur welcomed the cold sensation that embraced him and calmly shut his eyes, falling still as one final breath escaped him.

His body was completely motionless now. Completely devoid of life. And the longer Isaac stared at the corpse of his father, the more he could feel warm tears welling up in his eyes. 

He was alone again. After all those years of seeking vengeance for Eliza’s death and finding the strength to move on from it, the process of mourning had reset itself.

It felt like the world around him had stopped turning, and despite the urgent threat of the Pinkertons lurking close by, Isaac couldn’t help but feel nothing except emptiness.

But he knew there was no time to grieve. Not right now. Arthur would’ve wanted him to get out of here safely, and he wouldn’t have wanted him to look back.

So, with one last farewell, Isaac said a brief goodbye to his father before heading for the cabin’s exit, and taking his leave from the abandoned town.

He felt like the same scared, little boy that watched Eliza die again, but this time, he wasn’t going to let others determine his fate for him.

He wasn’t going to allow anyone to control him like Shay or his gang did, and he wasn’t going to lose himself to vengeance.

The only thing he was going to do was reach the border, and he’d be damned if he let anyone stop him.

~~~~~~~~~~

OUTSIDE COLTER

Stepping back out into the unforgiving weather of Ambarino, Isaac removed himself from the confines of the cabin and began making his way back to Aldo, only to stop in his tracks when he noticed a man waiting for him outside.

The man was clearly a Pinkerton based on his uniform, but unlike his fellow lawmen, he seemed to display no hostility towards Isaac. His gun was resting in its holster, and even though the boy was obviously alone now, the agent showed no intentions of taking advantage of the situation.

In fact, his temperament suggested quite the opposite. The man wore a sympathetic expression on his face, and when his eyes landed on the signature hat sitting on Isaac’s head, a proverbial light bulb seemed to illuminate in his mind.

Isaac tentatively walked towards the man, analyzing his face.

It was Agent Fordham.

“There you are.” The Pinkerton said as he leaned against a wall, keeping his arms crossed. 

The boy kept a hand close to his gun, admittedly suspicious of the lawman’s motives.

“Archer Fordham...? What are... what are you doin’ here? You knew I was in there?”

The man nodded. “Yes. I saw you and your father go inside earlier, but I didn’t have the heart to interrupt.”

Archer sighed morosely, gazing at the snow-covered ground. “I’m sorry for your loss, Mr. Morgan. Your father and I may have been on opposite sides of the law, but it sounds like he was a good man.”

Isaac replied halfheartedly, still somewhat shocked by the sudden death.

“He was.”

The Pinkerton steadily approached Isaac, careful not to alarm him.

“Listen, Mr. Morgan, I know this is a traumatic time for you, but you need to understand your current position. If Edgar finds you, you’ll be a dead man. After that little shootout he had with your father back at camp, he’s fully intent on taking you back to Blackwater as a corpse. He won’t let you walk out of here alive.”

Isaac picked up on the man’s tone. “...But you will?”

Fordham let out a conflicted breath, furrowing his brow in thought. “I believe in a world of law, Isaac, but I don’t believe that a world built on order has to be one without mercy. I’ve read your files. I know you’re only twenty-one years old. And I know that if I alert my superiors of your presence here, they’ll take away everything you’ve worked for. They’ll have you killed.”

The agent stepped closer to Isaac, looking around to make sure no one else was nearby.

“...I know Edgar disagrees with me on this, but I think you deserve a chance at life. It may be the unlawful thing to do -- letting you go -- but I believe it’s the right thing to do. After all, how much is civilization really worth if we reflect the same savagery we fight?”

Taken aback by Archer’s compassion, Isaac found himself at a loss for words and simply stared at the man incredulously, unable to believe his stroke of luck.

“You-- you’re--” Isaac stuttered, “...thank you, Fordham. I doubt your friends would’ve done the same.”

The Pinkerton maintained a stoic demeanor, but Isaac could tell he felt empathy for the young man.

“Just don’t mistake my mercy as a pardon. You’ll still be a wanted man in the United States, and the Pinkertons will take you in if they find you again -- myself included. So, if you have any plans to get out of the country, I’d use them now. This will be the only chance you get.”

Isaac nodded despondently, his mind still preoccupied with Arthur’s final words. “Of course. I understand.”

Archer turned on his heel and walked back to his horse, promptly ending the conversation there.

“Good. Then I think it’s best if you and I pretend we never had this talk.”

Mounting up, Agent Fordham took hold of the reins and clicked his tongue, urging the horse to begin trotting away.

“It’s a shame that it had to end this way, Mr. Morgan, but I wish you luck. For both our sakes, I hope we never cross paths again.”

Isaac watched the man slowly vanish into the distance, holding onto Arthur’s gun as if his father were still around. He was fully aware that the man wasn’t coming back, and yet, part of him couldn’t help but hope.

Strangely enough though, that just seemed to make it even worse.

“Yeah...” Isaac whispered solemnly, his tone burdened with loneliness. 

“...Me too.”

[fart-gate]

SG1

Season 5 episode 7

"BEAST OF BURDEN"

Notes by me

- unas!!!!

- ah yes. Gotta make them connections with food!! What food should we use to make this important alien contact??

Cliff bar

- hey bro Idk where you think you are but we dont shoot people on this show

- haha jk imagine tho

- wait isnt that the unas that stole Daniel that one time

- chaka!!!

- ok!! Daniels hair said swOOP

- Jack pls have a little bit more sympathy

- guilty!Daniel

- literally they wouldnt have let Daniel go if they didnt think there was a new weapons opportunity >:(

- god can the unas catch a break

- I fucking hate these ppl already

- burak can die and I would not care less

- "honesty huh"

"We're traders!"

Daniel saying thier best bet is to be honest and then lying thru his teeth is the height of comedy

- "what happened to him/her?" Inclusive!

- this storyline is the same as that star trek enterprise episode when they enslaved the aliens that had previously enslaved them. Circle of enslaving

- "dan-yel???....." The love and admiration in his eyes .....

- "its bc hes mine" I cant take this Daniel said this unas is my SON

- I want this fucker dead

- Daniel booty out again smh

- when Jack says " come on" and tugs daniels little jacket strap.

- its the big brother vibes that make me go insane

- ok jack! I know its technically not their job to free slaves all the time and stuff but you cant possibly see whats happening to these intelligent beings and not care...

- the dudes personal slave knows sha ah ka???

- "ke ka! Danger!" I just love when Daniel speaks another language its just neat

- they probably are gonna be killed bc of "bad blood" or whatever

- "Daniel you ok?"

"......been better"

- when the one between them hands them the walkie

- "chaka full o nuts whatever"

- Daniel speaking unas for a whole conversation. I'm a little sweaty I'll admit it...look away

- of course they want freedom!!! God this is house elves all over again

- chaka has pretty eyes

- "you injured my father :(" who gives a fuck

- like if they are intelligent enough to take care of your child? Cook and clean ? Plow your fields?? You dont think that maybe they are smart enough to have their own towns and familys and stuff??? Hello????? Are you fucking stupid????

- "I will not continue to do nothing" thats my BOOYYYYY

- stop torturing Jack and Daniel they have enough headaches

- when Daniel gets electrocuted (?) And chaka starts freaking out and the others realize how important he is to chaka and then they start yelling too 💗 unas solidarity

- ok bro!!! Killing ppl randomly is a sign that you should fucking die

- daniels "NO!" Was good tho

- sam: should we still care about not killing the ppl?

Daniel and jack: you know its gotten well past the point where we dont give a fuck anymore

- MY FAVORITE SEGMENT OF THE SHOW: BLOWIN SHIT UP

- Daniel yelling for them to stand back and then chaka yelling too gaaahhhh they are so cute

- when chaka looks at tealc and says "frieeeeennddddd" 💗💗💗💗💗

- DONT YOU FUCKIN SHOOT CHAKA ILL KILL YOU MYSELF YOU ASSHOLE

- YES CHAKA!!!! KILL THE OPRESSORS

- no glasses !daniel

- "stay and fight and free the others" YES UNAS RISE!!!! RISE!!!!

- literally who cares if they kill all those ppl. Do you care?? Cause I dont

- like.... they were brutally enslaving them. I would high five the next unas that killed their oppressors

- "they deserve a chance" NO SHIT

~

Whump under the cut

Daniel jackson whump: zatted, caged, prisoner, electrocuted(?), light from eyes and mouth, chain on ankle

Jack oniell whump: zatted, caged, prisoner, electrocuted(?), light from eyes and mouth, holding head, chain on ankle

🤓No glasses!Daniel for the last 5 minutes of episode

🎶listening to Juicy by Doja Cat🎶 bc I saw a glimpse of daniels curvy cheeks

🎶listening to You Cant Take Me by Bryan Adams from Spirit: Stallion Of The Cimarron soundtrack🎶 for Chaka not laying down and letting them turn him into a slave and deciding to stay and free his people💪💪👊👊 "you cant take me, im free!"

[duderocketship]

Masterpiece

Remix of “Gucci Gucci” by Kreayshawn

[Verse 1] Monster sized swag; not modest bout my splendor Marvel at the flag and I'm the ultimate avenger Buck Rodgers, D-Bird yep I'm the number one contender, So I gotta uphold this rep of bein’ uncontrollable so I'll take the lead, I hold the world beneath my feet I'm a fiend, elite Haze so cloudy cause I be blowin’ Swisher Sweets Drug addiction is my disease It's my expertise See here's the masterpiece: Raps lobotomize I'm traumatized since 1993 [Verse 2] Victimized by the lies of this trifilin’ enterprise You can front but you can't hide There's no fault behind your eyes So I hope this insult will suffice It should come as no surprise A grin will spread across my face From side to side My dirty mouth will mesmerize hypnotized, memorize the words that escape my lips I'm a degenerate unabridged uncut You're a motherfucking cunt Go hang yourself from a bridge Here's a rope, I hope you choke [Chorus] Coochie coochie smoochie smoochie Only chains you got is Gucci Y’all basic brothers rep that set But fake shit like that 2chi

Coochie coochie smoochie smoochie Throw me all them dollas Lil Reidums got tha type of flow gon’ make ya Momma holla

[Verse 3] man I get so high, Now watch me get higher Watch me take flight As my wings soar skyward You know I'ma fighter So watch me take my place As I eat this rap game up and then spit it in your face Now pass me a lighter see me rollin’ while I bake I mean I'm not a pastry maker, but I still bake for the sake My rhymes are so ill They're gonna make you sick I be tweetin’ up my twitter While Betty Crocker sucks my dick, uh [Verse 4] Reid between the lines son and please proceed with caution Alien splittin’ kilos, I be one tweaked fuckin’ martian I'm five steps ahead and these haters fuckin’ forfeit You four feet tall and I'm so high I'm in fuckin’ orbit Make these snitches sleep with fishes Fuckin’ vicious spittin’ mischief Fuckin’ trippin’ out these hypocrites Dishin’ out these disses which Bein’ inconsiderate in this fast paced game of chase But if I wanted to catch your drama I'd just go check my facebook page bitch 

[Chorus]

(Started Summer of 2011, published November 2013)

6th most popular poem on hellopoetry.com/duderocketship/ with 9.4k views.

[thethespacecoyote]

instead of working on any major project or any prompt I did this because I’m sick and sand and I wanted to write something with Jack being sick and sad

it’s not very good but orz just take it

“Rhys,” Jack mumbles around a spoon, “this soup sucks.”

Rhys acknowledges him only with an annoyed hiss and a slight roll of the eyes as he pulls the spoon back from between Jack’s lips and soaks it back into the bowl. Sure, the celery kind of dissolved into the broth and turned it a bit green and he might not have added enough salt, but the carrots and chicken and noodles are all good quality and taste fine to Rhys, so he doesn’t know where Jack iss coming from.

The older man snorts, and coughs, and audibly sucks snot up through his nose. Rhys cringes as he stirs the soup, trying to seek out a heartier morsel.

“I dunno what you’re talking about. It’s not that bad. Also I’m not sure I trust the taste buds of the guy who’s stuffed to the gills with mucus.”

“A palate as mighty as mine can’t be defeated by a friggin’ cold,” Jack waggles his finger from within the folds of the blanket wrapped around him like a cocoon. Only his head and hands pop out from the butter yellow comforter, making him look like some kind of weird monster. The Great Golden Hyperion Sniffler, or something.

“All right, Mr. Master Chef, open up ‘cause you’re not gonna get anything else until you get better.” Rhys waves the laden spoon in front of Jack’s lips, holding the bowl underneath to catch any dripping. Jack frowns deeply, breathing through his nose muffled as he narrows his eyes at the spoon.

“Think I’d rather starve…”

“Nuh-uh, no starving. The King of Hyperion isn’t going to die just because he doesn’t want to eat his boyfriend’s soup,” Rhys admonishes as he wiggles the spoon in front of Jack’s lips.

“C’mon now don’t be a wimp. See, here’s comes the bandit, launching out of the airlock!”

Luckily for Rhys, that gets Jack to snicker, leaving him an opening to slip the spoon between his boyfriend’s lips. Jack grunts and glared, but swallows down the spoonful nonetheless, his grimace this time around a little less dramatic.

“When I’m back to full strength, I’ve got to give you some friggin’ cooking lessons, pumpkin,” Jack grouses as he settles back against the headboard, shaky hands dragging the comforter tighter about himself.

“That’s plenty of motivation for you to get better, then. Once you kick this flu, I promise you won’t have to eat my soup ever again.” Rhys dids around the bowl for a big piece of chicken and a couple of dripping noodles. “But until then…”

Jack moans, flopping his head back as he snorts mucus back into his swollen nose.

“Please, kiddo, no more torture….and I’ve like, actually been tortured so I know what I’m talking about.”

“Okay, drama queen.” Rhys nestles the soup in his lap, holding up a finger. “One more bite, and I’ll put the rest in the fridge, okay?”

“In the fridge? Kiddo, I think you know where that belongs, in the tras—“

“Shush.” Rhys shoves the last spoonful into Jack’s helpless mouth, quickly dropping it back into the bowl as Jack struggles to swallow it down. “You’re really mouthy for someone who is apparently sick.”

“I am sick.” Jack licks his cracked lips as he snuggles back against his pillow, eyes starting to flutter shut. “What��.do I need to be….blowin’ chunks everywhere for you to believe me…”

“I’d prefer if you kept my soup down, thanks,” Rhys chuckles as he rises, cradling the soup in one hand as the other tugs the blankets tighter around Jack’s body and checks his temperature. Mollified for now, Rhys pats Jack atop the head, earning a sleepy grumble and an abortive swat. He dims the bedroom lights on his way out, leaving Jack to rest in the dark and quiet as he returns to the kitchen to keep the soup for later.

Things are fairly  boring around the penthouse with Jack laid up and ill.

Rhys usually occupies himself with organizing Jack’s inevitable clutter or spending his time watching television or playing on one of the many game systems, and if neither of those tickle his fancy he browses the ECHOnet on his palm display. He usually flips through new options for his wardrobe or plays any of the little mini games that have come installed with his operating system, but the needling fact that Jack is ill, even with something as mundane as the flu, keeps him from relaxing enough to properly enjoy any of the aforementioned activities. He hops from one to the next to the next, with not enough focus to linger on one for much longer than a few minutes. After about an hour of foiled distractions, he finally decides to make himself a grilled cheese and curl on the couch, where he gratefully ends up falling asleep snuggled around one of the firm throw pillows.

He wakes up for no clear reason sometime later, moaning softly to himself as he drags into an upright position, rubbing his eyes and ruffling his fingers back through his hair as he squints towards the digital clock on the entertainment center, though considering he can’t remember when he fell asleep, it doesn’t particularly help.

Rhys wobbles to his feet and retrieves two cool glasses of water from the kitchen, draining the first himself as he carries the other to the bedroom.

He creeps softly inside, letting the door drift shut behind him as he approaches the bed. Jack had rolled out of his previous cocoon and now lies on his side, sleeping curled up in the fetal position and facing the huge space window.

Rhys sits on the bed and knocks the glass against the nightstand a little too loudly, and he expects Jack to stir and groan at him for being so loud, but to Rhys’ surprise Jack stays motionless and—more surprisingly—quiet.

Rhys leans sideways on his hand, peering over Jack’s form as his heart picks up, puzzled. The comforter curls around Jack’s head like a hood, hiding his face from view. Rhys worries his lip, reaching forward and tugging the blanket away.

Jack isn’t asleep.

His eyes are half open, lids vibrating like they’d been plucked, fluttering between wanting to shut and forcing themselves open. Rhys can’t see any pupils or irises, only mottled white, even in the eye he knows to be undamaged and seeing. Jack’s skin has lost the reserve of color, even around his swollen nose and eyes, making the scar slashed across his face stand out, stark and cold. Rhys puts a hand against his forehead and gasps at the heat, even as Jack’s whole body shivers underneath the blankets.

“Jack? Holy shit, Jack!” Rhys’ voice rises urgently above a whisper as he rubs Jack’s shoulders, shaking him in hopes he’d snapped out of the fugue and tell him to screw of, but Jack only whines in a tone Rhys has never heard before, that sends his stomach twisting into one big worried knot.

Rhys ends up summoning Jack’s personal doctor in on a house call after a couple more panicked moments. He stays by Jack’s side until she comes, keeping a rag cool and wet as he rubs it over the older man’s forehead. He whispers to him until he’s lost track of what exactly he’s saying, the constant mumbling as much a comfort to himself as he hopes it is to Jack. The sound of the security door chiming finally breaks him out of it and he rises on shaky legs, taking glances over his shoulder at Jack until he manages to break away and skirt through the living room, quickly opening the door and inviting the doctor in.

He wrings the end of his tie in hand as he watches her tend to Jack. The lump in his throat refuses to go down as he looks on. He isn’t really listening to what the doctor is saying, but her voice was cool and calm and her hands assured, even as Jack’s limbs flop limp as she turns him onto his back and parts the sweat-stained blankets around his chest. Rhys knots his tie anxiously between his fingers as she records Jack’s temperature and presses her stethoscope to his chest, taking stock of his breathing.

“I’m going to put him on a fluid drip just in case,” the doctor’s measured, calm voice is a balm to Rhys’ anxiety as he nods, letting her go about her business as he numbly watches, trying not to think about the reedy, thin breaths drifting in and out of Jack’s open mouth. The doctor thankfully hides Jack’s arm with her body as she slips the needle into the vein in his forearm, wrapping it up with gauze. She hooks the bag up on a collapsible stand, letting the saline drain down with the aid of gravity.

She gives Rhys two small white bottles—one of fever reducers, one of painkillers—and a request to call her if things grow worse, then leaves Rhys alone in the dim light of the bedroom.

He sits back down heavily against the bed, before scooting to the edge, afraid to jostle Jack any more. He keeps his hands in his lap, the pills in the bottles clacking softly as he turns them over in his hands before leaning to set them against the nightstand.

It’s far too quiet.

Rhys can hear only the weak, raspy sound of Jack’s breathing, in time with the shallow rise and fall of his chest. It’s both too much, and not enough, and he can’t take it.

“You scared the hell out of me, you know that?” Rhys murmurs as he rests his hand against Jack’s shoulder, rubbing slowly down to the crook of his elbow before traveling back up, careful not to disturb the IV pulsing into his forearm. Jack’s doesn’t respond, but he seems calmer, now, less caught up in the throes of fever. Though peaceful resting doesn’t exactly suit him either, Rhys feels. If Jack hadn’t been ill and needing to recover, Rhys might be tempted to poke and prod him until he wakes up and gives Rhys a chance to hear the bite of that comforting snark.

The awkward quiet is a rough pill to swallow, so Rhys fills it aimlessly, murmuring aloud to his boyfriend about anything at all as he carefully strokes Jack’s arm, occasionally changing and wetting the cloth on his forehead.

Maybe, Rhys thinks, if he speaks like Jack is awake and acerbic as always instead of listless and hooked up to fluids, he soon will be.

[nekojitachan]

"I've tried to cut the string" if I may request Rufus and Reno :)

Ooh, Rufus/Reno. I so miss writing these two (I need to write these two, when will we get the new game???). Okay, I hope this makes you happy, sweetie!

******

Rufus never gave much thought to the red string wrappedaround his left wrist which stretched out a few inches into the air and thenvanished. He knew it would lead to his soulmate, the person fated to be his ‘otherhalf’, the person meant to be by his side for the rest of his life if he waslucky enough to find them. He assumed they would be a woman, would be someonefrom an upstanding family much like his mother had been… because he was aShinra and that’s how things were done. Fate wouldn’t get in his way andprovide anything else, would dare to interfere with his plans, would it? He hadenough headaches dealing with his father and bending that situation to his liking, after all.

So he ignored the string as inconsequential, being much toobusy with betrayal and AVALANCHE and everything else, and took the occasional loverhere and there when needs must (a classmate or two who understood the urge forrelief, a few daughters of business associates connected to SHINRA to appeasehis father) and left it at that. Relationships were complications he didn’tneed or want when he was focused on overthrowing his father, on taking controlof SHINRA and effectively the world.

He came so closeto achieving that with AVALANCHE, only for it to come crashing down around himat Old Corel. If it wasn’t bad enough to have everything he’d worked so hard onbe ruined by the ‘Investigation Sector of the General Affairs Department’, byVeld’s little groups of rejects and psychos who worked in the shadows and didSHINRA’s clean-up work (and worse)… at some point during the whole mess, thered string had grown brighter and thicker on his wrist, had stretched outwardto his soulmate at last.

Toward one of the Turks, as Veld’s groups of rejects werecalled, in particular.

The Turks, now led by Tseng, a quiet and taciturn Wutianyoung man, were unable to trade Rufus for the freedom of Veld and the old man’sdaughter, as the Turks had planned, but with a bit of careful maneuvering,Rufus had prevented the group from being executed for attempting to ransom him inexchange for their leader with a bit of clever showmanship. It meant the Turksonce more reporting to Heidegger and he was sent into ‘exile’ to Junon underhouse arrest… but he was alive to plot again and had gained the loyalty of Turks,which could work for him in the end.

There was only the matter of that damn red string.

He was set up in a palatial penthouse in Junon, one with abreathtaking view of the city and around the clock guards to ensure he didn’tgo anywhere unsupervised. His father was keeping a very close eye on him andmaking it clear that he wasn’t trusted, that he was being kept alive on sufferancealone.

Rufus would make him regret that small mercy and consideredthe situation a mere setback.

He’d take a little time to regroup, to consider his reducedresources, the altered battleground and then come up with a new plan. He’dlearn from his failure and do a better job next time, it was as simple as that.Learn from one’s mistakes and move on.

But first, that damn red string – that was a potentialweakness he hadn’t anticipated and he refused to let it be used against him.

It wasn’t long after he’d settled into Junon when he sat inthe room he’d established as an office, complete with a large desk where heworked during the day on the few things his father ‘trusted’ to him (boringassignments and tasks his father couldn’t be bothered with, for the most part,but which gave Rufus valuable insight on what was happening with the company),busy sawing at the string with what was supposed to be one of the sharpestblades on the market.

“It’s not gonna ta work, ya know. I’ve tried. Ya can’t cutthe damn string.”

Rufus jerked at the sound of that sardonic voice and nearlycut himself as he spun the chair around to find a lanky figure leaning againstthe doorway of his office, a lanky figured dressed in wrinkled black slacks andan open black jacket, a white dress shirt left with the top three buttonsundone beneath. The Turk had brilliant red hair in a spiky cut, severaltendrils falling onto his pale face and a long tail trailing down his back, analmost pixyish face with two red slashes along his sharp cheekbones andbrilliant aquamarine eyes.

He was Reno of the Turks, infamous for his insubordination,his violent, explosive nature and skill in fighting. Rumor had it that he mighthave been considered for SOLDIER but was too unstable for the program, too muchof a risk and so he’d been shuffled over to the Turks where even Veld (and nowTseng) struggled to keep the gutter-bred, below-Plate maniac under control.

He was also Rufus’ soulmate, the string on Rufus’ wristflowing bright across the room to Reno’s own, disappearing beneath the leathercuff of the baton he almost always wore when working.

It was then that thewords previously spoken sunk in, causing Rufus to stand up, the knife carefullyset aside and his hands braced on the desk, to glare at the bastard. “What doyou mean, you tried to cut it?”

A mocking grin curled Reno’s lips as he folded his arms overhis chest. “Just that, I tried ta get rid of the damn thing and nothing works.”He scoffed as his fingers gave the string a slight tug. “Even tried blowin’ itup. Rude stopped me from using the really strong stuff, though.”

Rufus stared at him in confusion. “You tried breaking it?” He’d been expecting Reno, a below-Plater,to show up to take advantage of the… ‘situation’ binding them together eversince he realized that he was stuck with the Turk.

Reno’s brilliant eyes narrowed as his lips curled into asneer. “Yeah, I did. What, ya think I wanna be tied to a fucker like you? Someone who’ll stab anyone in theback ta get what he wants?” He scoffed again. “Tseng says we gotta work withya, we work with ya. He says we gotta keep ya alive, we keep ya alive.” Forsome reason, Rufus felt a dark, angry emotion deep in his stomach over the waythat Reno mentioned the new Head of the Turk’s name, the way his voice held ascrap of respect. “But that’s it, ya stay the fuck away from me. I’m used talife bein’ an utter bitch so this is just,” Reno paused to laugh, the soundpure bitter amusement. “Yeah, stay the fuckaway, ya spoiled little shit.” He gave Rufus a rude gesture and then slippedaway into the shadows of the hallway without making any sound.

He left without giving Rufus a chance to say anything, toargue that he refused to be stuckwith such an ill-bred, uneducated, uncouth bastard(in every sense – Reno probably couldn’t narrow his father down to a possibletwenty men if given a chance).

Except… except Rufus despised being told he couldn’t havesomething. He detested being given ultimatums, in being told something was outof his reach. And Reno… yes, he was a gutter-rat, but he was also veryattractive, intelligent, and resourceful. He’d thrived with the Turks andclimbed up to their second in command. He had the gall to talk back to a Shinra(even a disgraced one, but from what Rufus had heard, that didn’t hold thebastard back at all).

He contemplated the red string around his wrist as he satback down in his chair and wondered if Fate had made a mistake after all.

He always did thrive best when given a challenge.

[la-tlgre]

2PAC - WHERE U BEEN FT. DANNY BOY,OUTLAWZ ☀️ 💭

“I reminisce on dangerous summers “

LYRICS :

[Intro: Big Syke] This goes out to all the young killers on the frontline We ain't forgot about you, homie [Hook: Danny boy] Damn, you been away from the hood too long A lot of things have changed since you've been gone Damn, you been away from the hood too long A lot of things have changed since you've been gone Damn, you been away from the hood too long A lot of things have changed since you've been gone [Verse 1: Hussien Fatal] I done been locked and jocked for the shit I've been claimin' All that killin' and the drug dealin', shit them niggas gamin' I dumped for real, Hoop Town gettin' ill Force me to chill, 'cause they got shot and squeal Punk ass niggas know the half on the ave Through your town, and Downtown Newark, I mash [Verse 2: Napoleon] We call it thuggin', I ain't never go all of a sudden L like I ain't wantin' nothing, then I just be frontin', buggin' All my homies and my family, I put that on mother vein Play by the summers it's goin' to be insanity It ain't easy, to hold it in When everybody around me is gettin' rich Wonderin' where I been           [Verse 3: E.D.I. Mean] Burned out and broke Got me dead runnin' for two packs of boges My whole life I've been choked Since we graduated, bet you thought your boy hadn't made it But it seem the dream that I was chasin' Damn here is the thing that left me faded Can't complain, shit, at least I'm still livin' Although trippin' of all the fun that I was missin' While I was boy is in prison—that's where I been [Bridge: Danny Boy] The homies wanna know where you are The homies wanna know where you are The homies wanna know where you are The homies wanna know where you are [Verse 4: 2Pac] I reminisce on dangerous summers We're just a thug nigga workin' for drug dealers of neighborhoods Run up by the age of 13 We was gunnin' and it was fun to see the police runnin' Niggas disappear when we comin' little Nappy head shorty addicted to drinkin' 40's My niggas is naughty, and y'all niggas is fuckin' corny But you left me in the summer of '89, a very good year Crack cocaine sales rose in every hood here 'Til you got knocked Then locked down, bag of rocks & fat knot You shot down, what they tell me is you livin' well Stuck in your cell Don't get another slip, ticket, drinkin' liquor in jail Just as well, hell nigga, I bail, whenever needed There's weed inside of the cereal box so don't eat it Where you been nigga? My homies wanna know Where you been nigga? (Alone) Where the fuck you been?           [Hook: Danny Boy & 2Pac] A lot of things have changed since you've been gone (Where you been nigga) Damn, you been away from the hood too long (My homies wanna know where you been) A lot of things have changed since you've been gone [Bridge: Danny Boy] The homies wanna know where you are The homies wanna know where you are The homies wanna know where you are The homies wanna know where you are [Collision: 2Pac & Syke] Hey.., to them niggas in jail cell To my homies in the livin' hell To the niggas haven't stayed down To all the bustas that are comin' around To all the love ones that's gone To my niggas better stay strong To all the hogs that's puttin' in work To all the young riders doin' dirt haha [Hook: Danny Boy] Damn, you been away from the hood too long A lot of things have changed since you've been gone Damn, you been away from the hood too long A lot of things have changed since you've been gone           [Bridge: Danny Boy] The homies wanna know where you are The homies wanna know where you are The homies wanna know where you are The homies wanna know where you are [Collision: 2Pac & Fatal] To all the young adolescent gettin' high stressin' Can't act dumb don't ask questions To all the other motherfuckers who runnin' blocks with they Glocks And runnin' from the cops and blowin' up the very spot To the hooriders that's on the streets Lookin' for the police you out there creep The real gang bangers slangin' thangs from the curb My nigga love to earn gettin' ill...

[bmc-is-my-city]

It’s Everyday Squip 50 followers! (It’s Everyday Bro BMC parody)

[Squip] Yup, y'all cant handle this Y'all don't know whats about to happen baby BMC Gang New jersey - pill boi But I'm from japan tho - WHITE BOI

[Squip] Its everyday day squip And no this ain't no trip 5 mil squips sold in 6 months Never done before Squipped all the competition man Michael mell is next Man i'm verbally harassing all these kids No I'm not a squid And i got jeremy too And I'm coming with his crew This is team 10 bitch Who the hella flippin you And you know ill squip them all If they ain't with the crew Yeah I'm talking bout you You begging for attention

[Brooke] Flirting with Jerry, too Still wanting Pinkberry It was 4:20 and i wanna get with Jerry But Chloe wanted him too [Chloe] dont make me tell them the truth [Brooke] I know what she with Jeremy, dont even have to search She tried to break us up, better be praying to God, CHURCH New Jersey's where im from We like to chew that gum Shoot Chloe with a gun Pacman tatoo just for fun Mr Reyas Bolt and Run catch me at the play Today is my day Team Ten-ing every day

[Brooke and Chloe] It's everyday squip It's everyday squip It's everyday squip I said it's everyday squip

[Rich Goranski] You know it's Rich Goranski And my hair stay poppin' Yes, I can set fire And no, I am not a pyro Jakey is my boyfriend And if it weren't for the squip Then my life would be shitty I'll pass it to Jakey 'Cause you know we stay litty

[Jake] Two months ago I didn't know your name And now I wanna upgrade? Bitch I'm blowin' up I'm only going up Now, I'm going off I'm never fallin' off Like Jeremy, who? Michael who? Who are you? All these cricket balls I just hit through Smashin girls in a month Where were you? Settin' fire on my house back on hallo You need to get your shit straight Squippy, brought me to the top Now we really poppin' off Playa 1 and Playa 2 That's why these girls all at our door It's lonely at the top So we all going We left NJ Now the trio's all rollin' It's BMC, bitch We back again, always first, never last We the future, we'll see you in the past

[Jake and Rich] It's everyday squip It's everyday squip It's everyday squip I said it's everyday squip

[Jeremy and Michael] hold on, hold on, hold on Can we talk about games? We aboutta hit it. Yes, all I want is level 9 Working on apocalypse of the damned all day long Living in the basement Anyone's dream Sending pants to my goddang dad We have one person above His name is Pac Man and he's at the top. From here we sing to you Can I get my vetro skates? Playa 1, Playa 2, representing  gamers From high school to college

[Jeremy and Michael] It's everyday squip It's everyday squip It's everyday squip I said it's everyday squip

[Christine] Yo, it's Christine Canigula The theater stay shook These thespians up on me I got 'em with the hook Lemme act for ya' And I'm talking theater cricket is your home? So stop calling my phone I love play rehearsal They buying tixs like a loan Yeah, I act good Is that your boy's script?

[Jenna] Is that yo Rich's fire? Started texting, Quicken tweets Now I'm in my flip phone zone Yes, they all copy me But, that's some shitty clones Stay in all designer clothes And they ask me for gossip I said it's all petty with six bitchies Always plug, twitter link in bio And I will tweet ya'll tomorrow 'cause It's everyday squip Peace

[alfarrcoast]

Eminem - Cinderella Man

[Intro: Eminem] Yeah, you know, technically I'm not even really supposed to be here right now So fuck it, might as well make the most of it (Amen, Amen) Yeah! Ha ha, feels good Guess I'm lucky Some of us don't get a second chance But I ain't blowin' this one Nah, man, ha ha Shit, I feel like I can do anything now [Bridge: Eminem] Who can catch lightning in the bottle, set fire to water Comin' out the nozzle on the fire hose, flyer than swatters? (Cinderella Man, Cinderella Man Cinderella Man, Cinderella Man) Smash an hourglass, grab the sand Take his hands and cup 'em Spit a rhyme and freeze the clock Take the hands of time and cuff 'em (Cinderella Man, Cinderella Man Cinderella Man, Cinderella Man) [Verse 1: Eminem] There's a storm comin' that the weatherman couldn't predict I start to bug, prick, you better flee, 'cause I get ticked It's a wrap, I was down when I was down, I was kicked I got up, I'm back to punch you to the ground, you trick! It's a trap, fuck my last CD, the shit's in my trash I'll be goddamned if another rapper gets in my ass I hit the gas and I spit every rap as if it's my last You can die in the blink of an eye, so bat your eyelashes And keep winkin' and blowin' kisses 'Cause you're flirtin' with death I'm destroyin' your livelihood, I ain't just hurtin' your rep I catch a flow and get goin' No remorse I'm showin', ain't slowin' for no one Knowin' there's nothin' you can do about it Zero in on the target like a marksman, the target is you I shut your lane down, took your spot, parked in it too Arsenic flow, lighter fluid saliva—what can you do? Go get your crew to hype you up Stand behind you like "Whooo!" That boy's hot enough to melt Hell, burn Satan too Fry his ass and put his ashes back together with glue See, you can hate him, he don't blame you Frankly, he would too This game could ill afford to lose him, how 'bout you? [Refrain: Eminem] Now guess who? (Hey!) Here's a clue (Hey!) He came to the ball in his wife beater, lost his Nike shoe It's in your ass, (Hey!), he's in your ass He's all up in your psyche too Now, what's his name? [Chorus: Kobe] (Cinderella Man, Cinderella Man Cinderella Man, Cinderella Man) If I had a time machine, I'd be Cinderella Man (Cinderella Man, Cinderella Man, Cinderella Man) Music is my time machine, so call me (Cinderella Man, Cinderella Man Cinderella Man, Cinderella Man) [Bridge 2: Eminem] Fuck catchin' lightning, he struck it Screamed "Shut up!" at thunder Then flipped the world upside down And made it rain upward (Cinderella Man, Cinderella Man Cinderella Man, Cinderella Man) Rewound the future to the present Paused it – don't ask how Fuck the past, mothafucka He's the shit right now, he's (Cinderella Man, Cinderella Man Cinderella Man, Cinderella Man) [Verse 2: Eminem] Cinderella man, Cinder Fellow, Shady dane Came to wrap the game up in cellophane Raise hell, from Hell he came But didn't come to bore you with the Cinderella story Nor did he come to do the same old Can't afford to be a lame-o In this day and age and at this stage of the game Mediocrity can no longer be allowed to fly So say bye to the old, H-I to the new Que será, consider it his last hurrah The coup de grâce, raise 'em high In the sky, keep 'em up, time to bring the place alive Thanks for bein' patient, I Will make no more mistakes, shit, my Potato's baked, homie, the veggies on my plate can fly My filet is smokin' weed—yeah, faggot, the steaks are high Shit, I ain't even suppose to be here by the grace of God The skin of my teeth and the hair on my nuts, I skated by Now y'all are on thin ice with ankle weights, I'd hate to lie How fuckin' irritated are you? How much in your face am I? It ain't shit you could do but fear it, Proof is here in spirit And I'm his spittin' image, I mirror it when I stand near it Your pussy lyric, I "cunt" hear it Who forms pyramids and raps circles around square lyricists? [Refrain: Eminem] Who? Here's a clue (Hey!) He came to the ball in his wife beater, lost his Nike shoe It's in your ass, (Hey!), he's in your ass He's all up in your psyche too (Hey!) Now, (Hey!) what's his name? [Chorus: Kobe] (Cinderella Man, Cinderella Man Cinderella, Cinderella Man, Cinderella Man) If I had a time machine, I'd be (Cinderella Man, Cinderella Man Cinderella Man, Cinderella Man) Music is my time machine, so call me (Cinderella Man, Cinderella Man Cinderella Man, Cinderella Man)

[denofdragons001]

There's a storm comin' that the weatherman couldn't predict I've start to ball prick you better flea cause I get ticked It's a rap I was down, when I was down I was kicked, I got up I'm back to punch ya to the ground ya trick It's a trap, fuck my last CD that shit's in my trash I'll be God damned if another rapper gets in my ass I hit the gas and I spit every rap as if it's my last You can die in a blink of an eye, so betcha I'll last So keep winkin' and blowin' kisses cause your flirtin' with death I'm destroyin' your livelihood, I ain't just hurtin' your rep I catch a flow and get goin' No remorse I'm showin', ain't slowin' for no one Knowin' there's nothin' you can do about it Zero in on the target like a marksman, the target is you I'll shut your lane down, if you can spot the parked in at 2 Arsenic flower, lighter fluid, saliva what can you do Go get your crew, hype you up, stand behind you like "woo" That boy's hot enough to melt hell, burn Satan too Fry his ass and put his ashes back together with glue See you can hate him, he don't blame you, frankly he would too This game could ill afford to lose him, how bout you Now guess who (hey) Here's a clue (hey) He came to the ball in his wife beater, lost his Nike shoe He's in your ass, he's in your ass, he's all up in your psyche too Now, what's his name

Cinderella man, Eminem 

[aridayy24]

NeedsWork

Awhhhh i got nothing nada zilch. Everything spinning, i know longer know if im winning. Im walking in circles dodging hurtles, i feel like a fucking turtle. Where are my babies? Where did they go? How did this fucking happen, everybody seems to know but im outta my head, out of mind. Life is just on constant rewind, replay, reboot. I gotta FDR my brain.

ill be the first to admit i lost my goddamn mind, switched to military time, i wasn’t doin fine. Wasnt eatin. Wasnt sleepin. I swear though i seen the light in the skies, calling everything out as i seen it, before the truth was in disguise. I swear i could see the future in my daughters eyes, n it was looking bleak n i was weak. Lack of nutrition, not following my intuition. Trying to get back into school but whose about to pay your tuition? Trying to give my kids the life i never had, the bills keep piling up and momma just got laid off. Back on that welfare here we go wic, foodstamps, Medicaid bound. Unemployment trynna hang me, the websites always fuckin with me shits always down. Baby daddy drama wont go away, he had me locked away. My teams blowin up my phone, ari dre says your back on drugs are you okay? Omfg all of you go away.

Kicked outta my own home, judge says not 1000 feet. Morgan you can have the rented townhouse, keep the cars, and have everything i bought and say its yours. Destroy my reputation and slander my name. You have allot of fucking nerve, thanks for that learning curve. I don’t need an explanation, your disrespect exceeds expectation. All i want is those babies. One girl. One boy. 1 year 1 week apart. Adam and Eve as i do preseive. Mira Mira, you tagged all over our walls. Up and down the halls. Harold and his purple crayon has nothing on you. Your my baby girl. You and your little brother are my whole world. 

Oh Mira Charisma, You warned me to keep my mouth shut covering my mouth when ever i was about to burst out. Its like you knew your father and I wouldn’t work out. Getting in-between whenever were in a fight, dragging me out side to see the sunlight. Im sorry babygirl, your father and I are never getting back together and its for the better. I thought wed be together forever, shell have no furry like a women scorn, ill never forget how he tore you two from my life. I still see you running into the street cop lights flashing, your grandma and dad joking with the cops as they have me locked away. The memory will never fade away. Momma had to loose her concept of time, in exchange for the keys 2 her mind, 2 survive the separation anxiety.

 You see momma came from a long line of neglect and abuse, and i promised to break the chain for you. Momma left nearly a decade ago, last i checked that bitch in fargo. i never knew my father, but i gotta allot a people who claim to be. My friends fighting, and hating over me and about me. Claiming​ they worried yet there no where to be seen. Im stuck in between, gotta get outta of this mess, try to remember to get dressed one foot after the other, one day at a time. Try not to get stressed, get some rest. I cant keep counting i feel like im drowning. 

The world is spinning, whirling outta control. I only hear select words, i count the birds. I only see the lights, im at a loss for words. This anxiety got me stuck, lord tell me i got some luck commin my way cause this shit is to much and i cant stay, take me far away. Life got me on my knees, its hard to believe, that’s why i be smokin trees. I cant forget anything anymore, cant be living in denial anymore, cant believe the lies anymore,gotta remember to breath. Afraid to go to trail court rooms aren’t for me, praying the judge will set me free. Cause jail just ain’t for me, that’s why i kept my shit clean.