#i feel like rick didn't flesh him out enough

[sweetnnaivete]

jason grace being raised by wolves has so many possibilities. like, feral jason who bites people. awkward jason who can't socialize. environmentally-minded jason who's good with animals.

[aphrogeneias]

Congratulations, bby! 🥰 I’d love to participate but I am so lousy at prompts 😓

I’d love like an interview moment? All the press for Day One has got me thinking about Eddie doing like marathon interviews and him being like…distracted by his assistant the whole time?

If it doesn’t spark anything feel free to toss ❤��

warnings: smut (+18), biting, oral (f receiving). sex flashbacks in the middle of the day are one's biggest enemy.

Somewhere between the third and fourth questions, Eddie zoned out.

The band was lined up at the press conference table, and as he sat at the far left of his bandmates, his mind started wandering. He didn't know if it was the flash of the cameras going off, or the repetitive questions being made by the journalists sitting on the chairs reserved for the press in front, but he couldn't keep his attention fixed.

“What can we expect from this second U.S. tour now that…”, and “Can you guys tell us your plan for…”, and “What do you think about the comparisons made between you and…”. The last question, made by a man directly in front of him, almost made him roll his eyes. Eddie looked away, barely concealing a sigh, and let Jeff handle that question more gracefully than he ever could.

He chose the circus life, he enjoyed the circus life, but when it was moments like this where he discovered he didn't have much patience for it.

Wandering, like his mind, his eyes found you standing at the side, between Rick and their manager, Jim. With your trusty notebook in hand, listening to Rick whispering something as you scribbled something quickly. Eddie wanted to smile at your concentrated face, and the way your nose scrunched as you struggled with the ballpoint pen in your hand.

He couldn't, though, but that didn't stop him from looking.

As you strained your neck further to listen more closely to what Rick was telling you, the collar of your sweater moved just enough for him to see a peek of a reddened — quickly turning purple — bruise close to your collarbone.

The memory hit him, then, all at once.

You spread before him in bed like a feast, looking good enough to eat. Running his nose through your naked chest, nuzzling his cheek on your soft skin to feel you close, holding you down with his hands on your waist. Your giggles and your hands on his hair, keeping it from falling on his face.

Marking you with his lips and teeth, tongue and spit, lavishing you with it. Teeth on your neck, suckling on your sensitive skin, relishing on the sweet noises you made, on the feeling of your hands as they squeezed his shoulders, nails digging into his flesh.

You marked him as he marked you, and if he moved shoulders the right way, he could still feel them running down his back.

Eddie sat, bored, his legs spread wide, thinking about you. About sucking bruises over your chest, leaving delicate bites on your nipples, the bite mark he left on your lower stomach, knowing he would find it there later, if he lifted your pretty sweater up. Another journalist raises their hand, another question is made.

Another memory of his mouth on you, kissing your thighs, biting on the meat of them. Your taste on his tongue, like honey on his lips. The view of your back arching as he raised his eyes to see you fall apart on his mouth and fingers, hands squeezing your tits just as he'd asked.

He shifted uncomfortably on his seat, wishing he'd kept his sunglasses on. His already tight jeans feel tighter, and if he closed his eyes, he could still feel you on him, skin on skin, thighs squeezing his waist, the bed moving and hitting the wall behind you, the shadows undulating on the wall.

If this was a spell you'd gotten him under, he didn't wish to be broken free.

“My question is for Munson,” he heard, then, coming from a journalist at the far back. A woman, with a microphone labeled with a magazine he'd heard of before, but only in passing, “do you…”

He had to ask her to repeat her question, amping up his charm, making the crowd of press-people laugh. You didn't know what you'd done, but he'd get you for it later.

[connorsblog]

you're gone, but im still here. | c.g

genre : angst

summary : after carls death, you feel lost.

warning : hallucinations & semi-graphic gore description

do not continue reading if you have not seen 8x09 !! spoilers ahead

i sat infront of carls grave, the mere dirt pile was all rick and michonne could do while alexandria was burning down to the ground.

a pang went to my heart as i ran my fingers over the ashed dirt. it was a mix of grey and brown now, just reminding me all over again how my home burnt down.

"i shouldve been able to save you," my voice cracks as i attempt to talk to carl. it doesnt work very well.

i try to talk again, but all that comes out is a cracked "sorry." it wasnt enough and i knew it.

i tried to focus on the background sounds, but the soft chirps of the cicadas didn't suffice for carls voice.

i tried to imagine him there, sitting next to me in silence and holding my head on his shoulder.

i guess i imagined too far, as when i turned around he was there. in 3d.

"carl?" my voice came out soft and broken.

"you don't have to be sad," he got straight to his point. almost like he was about to disappear any moment.

"i died to save someone. he's going to be good for the community," he continued, "his name is siddiq."

i guess i forgot about him, since he hadnt been here very long. i had seen him maybe once, maybe twice?

"it's not your fault i died," not even allowing me to talk before starting up again, "it's not your fault."

he kept saying that but some part of me, buried deep inside of me, thought otherwise.

"it is my fault," came out without my consent. i didnt want to speak, i wanted to relish in his voice and presence until i couldnt see his face anymore.

he gripped my wrist. some part of me wanted to rip away and continue to believe he was dead. but he was right there, in front of my face.

i began to talk again, but as quick as he came he left. nothing was there besides the dirt mound.

i heard ricks gravely voice from somewhere behind me. i ignored it, hoping, somehow that carl would come back.

forty-six beats of silence later, i felt a hand on my shoulder. bristly cold.

shortly after, i realized it was carl again.

i didn't speak, not that he'd let me, and waited for him to say something.

"siddiq is good people, you know," he lifts his head a bit, finally allowing me to see his gaping gunshot wound in his head. but it wasnt bleeding, just a void of flesh that was on the side of his head.

i resisted the urge to scream, that all-too-familiar pang in my heart back. plus, if i did scream.. i'd look crazy. nobody was there, right?

"you'll be okay without me," he continues. i didnt know why he continued to talk, i hadnt said anything for the past few minutes.

"are you sure?" i finally spoke up. my throat hurt from the words, they felt like lava bubbling up and threatening to blow any second.

"i'm sure," he whispered before his eye closed and he disappeared for the last time.

"i dont want to live without you. but i will anyway," i sigh out as i brush my fingers over his grave for the last time for a while. i cant mourn him for too long.

[joycew-blog]

Special RnM Ask:

If you were given the opportunity to write one episode dedicated to Rick in a romantic relationship, who would you ultimately pair him with? Why? What would happen, or what sort of plotline would you go with?

Oh jeez, that's a very good question. If it were a sexual relationship it would be one thing, but a romantic one? You've definitely given me food for thought. I think it really depends on where Rick is at in the story. If I were to write it right now (so directly after season 7) I think he's still very busy getting his shit together. He's not stable enough to get in a proper romantic relationship that isn't toxic or won't fall apart. That doesn't mean he can't try to tho! I just don't think it would be something that would work for long term. But if I were to pick a scenario it could either be a random new alien character that he quickly got attached to (like Daphne in season 5) or an existing character that he has a past with. I rather pick existing characters since that's easier for me to imagine and write for. My first thought was Mr Nimbus, but then I also saw a mention somewhere of Curtis which would be a good choice as well. But I prefer to pick Nimbus cause he really deserves more screentime and he has some sort of past with Rick that could be shown in the episode. So if I were to write the episode itself it would start with some sort of peace treaty. Rick bringing back the conch and sort of apologizing in his own Rick-ish way for being a dick. Maybe he even got pushed to do this by his family or therapist. They'll bicker a lot and it looks like it'll end in a fight again, but at the same time Rick brought back the conch which is unusual for him, so they decide to bury the hatchet for now.

Rick didn't know what to do next so, well... why not visit Nimbus' kingdom? It's been a long while and it might be a good start to keep the peace going. Of course knowing both Rick and Nimbus, things get horny real fast and they are having a one-night stand. They both had a great time and that's how the snowball started rolling. Rick visits Nimbus more often and it puts him in a good mood, to the point that even his family starts to get suspicious. Summer starts calling him out for being in 'loooveeeee' and Morty tries to stop her from doing that cause he's happy that Rick's happy. But the seed is planted and now things get too intimate for Rick. And Rick being Rick he of course starts to push Nimbus away. In return Nimbus gets angry and confronts him about it and they start fighting again. During the fight they start screaming what goes through their minds by insulting each other, digging in their personalities etc. Until Rick yells "I can't believe my grandkids think I fucking fell in love with you!" Anddd that made Nimbus stop fighting real fast and he looks at Rick like he's grown two heads. They talk it out and find out that their feelings are mutual; They are not in love, but definitely love to keep hanging out with each other more. They work best as friends with very good benefits.

Maybe it gets a bit fanficy at the end there tho, but I do genuinely believe that their relationship works best as friends in the end.

But! I have a second answer! Like I said before, if Rick were to go in a relationship right now it would not end well. But if I were to look at endgame? Then Birdrick would definitely be on the table! However, I don't think this a relationship that would get build and written in one episode. Rick and BP have a strained relationship right now, they are barely on speaking terms, so I think we should have more episodes of them together in general before they go in a romantic direction. Like Rick meeting Birddaughter, perhaps by rescuing her from the Galactic Federation cause she got caught again. Or maybe she's heard a lot of stories about Rick from the Federation that made her curious. Maybe have BP and Rick reminisce about the past! I'm definitely still curious what music the Flesh Curtains were making. And after allll that buildup we can have an episode where they get together. It could perhaps be more dramatic, like them going on an adventure and things go very wrong! One of them ends up on the verge of dying, which in turn makes the other realize they don't want to live without the other anymore. And things kinda keep going from there.

So I think there's a lot of different possibilities about having a romantic episode with Rick. But it would definitely be a hectic one, since Rick is a dumb-dumb when it comes to feelings and it's definitely an R&M thing to do. And also it would be queer as fuck, no more being sneaky on wither Ricks falls for guys or not! Unless that's already been established in an earlier episode.

(ohmygod this got so long, I wasn't expecting to write a fanfic today)

[unadulterated-syd]

req by @toymangle224

synopsis; reader has type I diabetes,, and runs out of insulin

As time went on, you felt weaker and weaker. Apocalypses were hard enough as is— losing loved ones, flesh eating walkers everywhere, death nearing every corner.

However the idea of needing something consistently to survive, was even harder than surviving normally. Consistency was key to you, you needed insulin often to keep yourself together.

But it wasn't as easy as it once had been— though it's never been necessarily easy to look after condition.

You couldn't go to the doctors, or get a prescription, you had to dig through pharmacies— not to mention the fact you did your best to hide the need for insulin from those around you.

Worry worried you, you never wanted to be the cause of worry. Especially not in a world where stress was eating at you all— constantly. You just wished it could all go away.

But didn't everyone.

You knew you could only go so long without insulin— maybe a week or so at best. If you had other proper food categories filled correctly.

You took the authority of going on extra runs, looking in every place you could for any source of the life saving medicine. Safe to say that week had gone by fast, and runs were out of the picture.

Today was no different— you felt tired, thirsty, you limbs exhausted. Nonetheless you picked yourself up, you knew you couldn't run but you could still try your best to seem okay.

One day you'd be the death of yourself.

However, by the time noon hit, something felt different. You felt light-headed, almost like a drunken girl with little tolerance to alcohol. You stumbled yourself home, the home you shared with the Grimes'.

However, Carl was not one to ignore your odd behavior. When you'd insisted on runs, and rejected rest, he'd known something was wrong. He kept a close eye after that, close enough to catch your search for insulin.

In fact he'd told Rick, insisting that everyone keep a close eye out, demanding the importance of you having such. Though he never once brought it up to you— knowing you were keeping it from them on purpose.

He excuses himself from the group he'd been with, following after you, back to the Grimes home. He creaked open the door behind you, shutting it lightly, careful not to startle you.

"Y/n?"

"In here." You spoke weakly, say on your bed.

"What's wrong? What happened out there."

"Insulin— uh my, i ran out." You sighed, your hands lightly shaking. A sense of need finally kicking in, "I don't have any, I don't feel well. Because of it."

He sighed at you, "C'mon, you rest here, I'll figure something out." He moved a pillow on your bed, gesturing for you to lay down— which you did. In a way he was moreso preparing for you to faint and didn't want you to injure yourself.

He took off to find Rick, and the group mutually decided it was necessary for them to find you Insulin. Though they'd already been looking— they hadn't realized you had gone this long without it.

Nor the severity.

Carl made sure they did everything under the sun to better your condition until they found your newfound 'liquid luck' as Rick had referenced it.

And by this I mean everything; sweets, sodas, natural sugars, anything that could help for now.

Though, as the groups looked more and more, the more they requested Carl's help on the Runs. They were far to undermanned in runners to go on daily runs without Carl— and eventually he gave in and left your side.

Typically he would've never let himself move from your side, however he had found you passed out one day after leaving only a moment— to grab you a change of clothes. That's when he decided he needed to.

Eventually they hit the jackpot— a pharmacy just outside of city lines which was stacked with insulin, Rick had mentioned it looked like someone had ordered a good amount just before the world ended.

Carl sat by you whilst you got better, though you earned many lectures on needing to tell him things,, trust him more.

But after he'd talked your ear off, he came to terms with the idea that all that mattered know was that you were alive, and well.

"You're an idiot." He said, lips pressed into your hair, arms wrapped around you.

"That's not a nice way to talk to your girlfriend."

"She almost got herself killed."

"What would you do without me?"

"I don't want to think about it. I love you."

"I love me too."

"I hate you."

"No you don't, I love you too."

[the-great-knight-gay]

Character Analysis: The Seven (Riordanverse)

Each of the seven have issues:

Percy is suicidal as in most of his POVs there is a large lack of regard for his life, multiple times stating he believes people will be better off without him and even stating he wanted to drown in TLF and SoM. On top of that... Physically abused as a kid. C'mon we all remember and hate Gabe. I hate how his entire character was literally forgotten about, despite the fact that an abusive parent should stick with a kid for quite some time.

Here's my headcanon for that. It wasn't forgotten, just not acknowledged. We all remember in the earlier books Percy was pretty much apologizing for doing anything right. That's a trait instilled in people who are used to getting abuse for doing anything. I could just be reading into it too much, and I probably am, but it's the only thing that reassures me that this wasn't forgotten about.

In fact I don't think Rick really understood the implications of what Gabe's actions would have done to Percy as he stated that in the upcoming show Timm Sharp's performance as Gabe had everyone laughing and I think that's the only thing I am slightly apprehensive about in the show.

His lack of self-worth is honestly probably a result of Gabe and I feel so angry that it was never touched.

Annabeth has abandonment issues as nearly everyone she has ever loved has left her at some point. Her mother disowned her after TLH, her father chose her mortal family over her and ignored her as she grew up, Luke betrayed her and Thalia joined the Hunters. There was even that time when Chiron was going to leave for good in SoM. That was why she was so threatened by Rachel. Because she was taking away the one good person left who stood by her.

Yes I just ignored Grover. I realize that.

Jason suffers from image issues as he was put on a pedestal from day one, even as a child just because his daddy was a king. He does NOT get enough credit my man suffered as a kid. This was probably one of the only ones where Rick actually tried to address the problem and eventually he found his calling and grew past that. Then Trials of Apollo came along. *Ugly sobbing intensifies*

Piper suffers from neglect from her father who didn't have enough time to spend with her and from her mother leaving. Even when her mother was there in Charleston, she paid much more attention to Hazel and Annabeth than she did to her own daughter.

Leo... Where to start? The kid was homeless and slept in sewers. That on its own is just sad but even more, he believed he was the reason his mom was dead. He was shunned by his own flesh and blood and was forced to retreat behind the comfort of his machines and even then, Festus was brutally taken away by those lasers. Rick really just pulled out the most brutal, sad backstory for this kid ever.

Frank is one of the less traumatized ones but still, a dead mother and having to watch his home burn down with his grandmother inside? Not good.

Hazel... Pulled out of time into unfamiliar circumstances. Having to deal with the knowledge that her childhood friend moved away, thinking that it was his fault that Hazel left (Sammy and the diamond). Having to deal with the knowledge that she was part of the reason one of the giants had risen. Forcibly exiling herself from Elysium into Asphodel just so her mom wouldn't suffer. And speaking of her mom... Maria Levesque's treatment of Hazel, acting as if she were a curse and not a living child, making her sympathize with the Minotaur of all creature, would leave lasting scars on all of them.

The most consolation I can get for this is that it looks like most of them have managed to move past all of this. Jury is still out on Annabeth and Percy as I have not read CotG yet but I'm hopeful.

Except Jason. They just had to completely overhaul him by ripping away the relationship he had with Piper, which didn't need to happen, right before he died.

My reason for not liking the Jasiper break up is the fact that, the argument that they were forced into the relationship happened at the wrong time. This was after they had done a fresh start of the end of BoO. Anytime before that I can understand, but at that point? There was no reason. Then they just had to kill my boy. RICK I SWEAR TO ALL THE GODS IF THIS HAPPENS TO ANYONE IN THE WRATH OF THE TRIPLE GODDESS AND WHATEVER THE FINAL BOOK OF THIS NEW TRILOGY IS I WILL FIND YOU!

Apologies I get a bit worked up sometimes.

DON'T KILL GROVER

It's a bad habit.

PERCABETH BETTER NOT FACE ANY RELATIONSHIP PROBLEMS THEY ARE PERFECT DON'T RUIN IT!

Anyways, Knight out!

Go check out my Ao3 and Wattpad

No Riordanverse fics yet as I am still focusing on my Pokémon OC story but just you wait! It's coming!

[boygiwrites]

Harley D. Dixon 26

Harley D. Dixon's Pinterest Board! Harley D. Dixon's Playlist!

📖Chapter List.

Author's Note.

We. Are. Back!!

It's been almost six months!! 😶 Motivation comes and goes, but I'm very happy to be posting again. Like I said in a comment on Ao3, this book is too special to me to ever abandon. Thank you for your patience!! 💙

When Rick kicks the stool out from under Jim's feet, there's a simple crunch sound, and then he's dead.

I watch from afar as his body dangles from the rafters like a doll filled with sand, wondering why I thought it would be louder. It feels like I can breathe again. As if I've had a noose of my own wrapped around my throat until this very moment. Jim's dead. He ain't a threat. Just dead and dangling. Silence pours out across the farm. It feels strangely comforting; a hug from somebody you thought you didn't like.

I know Dale would disagree. I don't gotta ask to know he didn't want this.

If he weren't under six feet of dirt and bugs right now, I think I'd tell him I'm sorry.

Not just for Jim having to die, but also for being angry. He knew it never did nobody any good to be angry. If I hadn't told Carl to leave that muddy walker alone, wanting it to suffer and pay for some crime weren't even its fault, then maybe Dale would still be here.

I kinda realize in this moment that I don't care if dead people don't gotta see bad things. Because Dale ain't get to see the good things anymore, either. Like books and soup. Hugs, jokes. The baby, once it's born. Neither does Momma or Sophia or Shane.

It's like Jim said. I should be dead by now. On account of all laws of nature and chance, I should be long dead.

But obviously, I ain't.

And I'd be a stupid, silly, brainless little girl to not think that makes me at least a little bit lucky.

As I fiddle with the metal buckle of my overalls, Dad and Rick carry Jim outta the shed, their hands hooked around the dead man's armpits and ankles. Carol's probably thinking something like, He's with his loved ones now. But I ain't Carol, and I don't believe in heaven, so all I'm thinking is, I hope it didn't hurt. I've never had my neck snapped before, so I wouldn't know. They shuffle over to the pile of wood and walker bodies, tossing him on top, dusting their hands off on their pants. They's gonna burn him. No graves for them that ain't family.

Good. We have enough of those, anyway.

Dad and Rick turn away from the pile, their faces largely blank.

Before they can see me, I stand from my spot near the fence and scurry away, because I know I'm not meant to be watching.

That morning, everybody gets busy doing something. Whether it's bringing supplies into the house or cleaning a grimy rifle, nobody's twiddling they thumbs. There's something about putting work into a thing that needs it that clears the mind, I guess. Stops us from thinking about Jim, anyhow. Me, I help out by going around with a basket of fresh fruit, handing them out to anybody who wants some.

The first people I swing by are Rick and T. They've begun reinforcing the fences together, using old metal sheets and planks of wood to barricade any weak points they find. They gratefully take a juicy pear each, leaning against their handiwork to bite into the sweet flesh, groaning at the taste. Something nice happens in my chest when I see them smile. It's like looking at a puppy. You just can't be sad.

"Wow, this is good," T-Dog nods, turning the fruit over in his hand. "Thanks, Harley."

Rick doesn't say nothin', but I'm just glad to see him enjoying himself. Even for just a moment.

I head over to Patricia and Carol next, who are scrubbing at some laundry over by the trees. I earn myself two more smiles when they take a couple peaches, leaving them to their own devices and making my way through everyone else. Herschel, keeping Maggie company as she hangs up some wet clothes over a line in the sun. Jacqui and Lori, tidying up camp a bit, preparing lunch. Jimmy, polishing guns.

When I give a pear to Dad, who's fixing some of his crossbow bolts, he kisses my cheek as thanks.

And Beth. I don't forget her. She sits in the bay window of her bedroom, nibbling away at a green apple.

I know eating a good piece of fruit ain't never stopped nobody from wanting to kill themselves, but everything counts.

I've only got a peach, apple, and a pear left tumbling around in my basket when I approach Glenn and Andrea. They're stood around the hood of Dale's RV, frowning into the rubber tubes and gears like there's a jigsaw puzzle in there, muttering to each other.

"You gotta tap it three times," I think he's saying, pointing at something, "And—"

"— And give her a twist," Andrea sighs, throwing her hands up. "I know, I know."

Glenn notices me out the corner of his eye. He doesn't light up exactly, but the tension leaves his shoulders. "Oh. Hey, Harley."

"Hey." I give a little smile, holding out the basket. "Y'all want some fruit?"

"Ugh. Yes, please."

They each pick one out, leaving me with the apple. I toss the basket onto the nearby folding chair and bite into its waxy skin, the sugary juices leaking down my chin. It's sweet as candy. Well, from what I remember candy tastin' like, anyway. It's delicious.

Andrea seems to agree. "God. Remind me to always become stranded on a farm with an orchard."

Glenn bites a chunk out of his peach as he takes the screwdriver from the blonde, scooting around her to stand in front of the exposed engine. "Here. Let me have a go... Dale told me that in these old vehicles, the points get corroded."

I wipe my sticky chin, watching as he pokes around with the small tool.

Dale knew everything there was to know about this RV. Whenever it broke down, he didn't even need to check beneath the hood before he knew exactly what was wrong with it. Hell, even I've picked up on its quirks by now, and I know jack about vehicles. There's all sorts of screws and bolts and duck tape crammed into the poor thing's inner workings, but it just refuses to die. Like a stubborn old mule. 

A bit like Dale. No matter how many times ya put that old man down, he'd come back ten times stronger.

"I let him down," Glenn suddenly sighs, and it's easy to know who he's talking about.

I glance over his shoulder, through the front windshield. Dale's ridiculous amount of souvenir air fresheners still hang from the mirror. Oklahoma. Illinois. Missouri. Kansas. That ain't even half of 'em. We used to tease him about them, but he always just laughed us off and recited some philosophical quote from a dead guy about how memories feed the soul, or whatever.

Nobody ever understood it when he said stuff like that, but I still know we all miss it.

"He was proud of you," Andrea tells him; then me, "Both of you."

I sheepishly look away, picking at the stem of my apple. No, he weren't. But that's nice of her to say.

"That's easy for you to say." Glenn shakes his head. "You had his back."

She doesn't know what to say for a moment.

"Well... All I know is that there's no way he didn't know how much we all cared for him, even in the end. He was too smart for that."

I got no doubts about that. He knew everything. Knew everything about the RV, about poetry, about us. He was just one of them types of people. I only wish I hadn't argued with him that day, but I argue with Dad all the time, and he still loves me. So, can't all be bad.

Glenn pulls back from the engine with a resolute, "Welp... That should do it."

When Andrea climbs inside and twists the key into the ignition, I'm proven right. This old RV just refuses to die.

"Well done, Glenn," I smile over the noise of the engine. "You did it."

He turns to me with a smile of his own, looking proud of himself.

After that, he and Dad leave the farm to search for a hearing aid. 

Maggie hands them a list of houses they can try their luck in, and then we exchange the usual goodbye hugs and kisses before waving them off. There ain't no use in sitting around, wondering if they're going to get bitten and die because of me, so I leave to find something I can distract myself with instead. Luckily, Rick and T-Dog are more than happy to let me help them out with the fences.

If we're gonna get serious about staying here at the farm, we're gonna have to make some upgrades.

I obidiently tail them as they work, lugging around a bucket filled with rusty nails to pass to them.

"You know, Harley," Rick grunts as he hammers a scrap of metal to the wooden posts, "Carl still ain't stopped chewin' my ear off about all those things you taught him the other day. If I have to hear the word 'mushroom' one more time... I'll go crazy."

I pluck a nail from the pile and hand it to T-Dog.

Just to be annoying, I say, "Mushroom, mushroom, mushroom."

"Hey. Watch it." He scolds me, but not very well. He's smiling. "Anyway. You two ain't on good terms right now, are you?"

I raise a brow. "How'd ya know?"

"Well, I figured you'd be playin' with him right now if you were. And to be honest, he's been in a bit of a mood lately."

I huff a little, silently cursing Rick's parents for making him like this. "We squabbled. That's all."

He hums thoughtfully.

"Whenever I argued with my sisters," T-Dog tells us, "They'd start messin' with me. They'd hide my Xbox controller. Eat my snacks."

Rick chuckles. "They sound nice."

"Yeah, you could say that," He chuckles along with him. "A real pair of peaches."

"Well, Carl ain't done any of that," I suppose, adjusting the bucket in my grasp, "But he did call me a stupid baby."

Rick turns to look at me. "What?"

"He snitched on me about the shed and called me a stupid baby. Then I told him I hated his guts."

As I stand there, he fixes at me with a funny, What am I going to do with you?, sort of look, until he returns his attention to the work at hand. "Well, he was right to 'snitch' on you, but I'll have a talk with him when I can. It's not okay to name-call."

"I think it's 'cause he's gonna be a brother soon." I think aloud. "He said he's gotta protect me."

T-Dog argues, "You got all of us here to protect you. Boy's got nothing to stress about."

"I know. He just likes bein' somebody's keeper."

Hammering the last nail into the metal, Rick gives the thing a bit of a shake to test its strength, pleased to see it won't budge.

"Okay, I think this one's good." He decides. "Let's move onto the next one."

As we gradually make our way down the fence line, we continue chatting away about other useless things. The weather, future plans for the farm. Something we don't talk about, though, is the baby inside Lori's belly. I don't think Rick wants to think about it, let alone talk about it. He must be mulling over all the hundreds of things that could go wrong. As the leader, that's his special talent.

By the time we reach the area around the barn, I'm not listening to the conversation anymore. It's difficult to concentrate on making out their voices for such a long time, so I just tune myself out, absentmindedly gazing past the two of them, into the field.

That's when I notice something off about the burning pile.

It's still sitting there, a boring bunch of wood and junk, but the problem is I can't seem to spot Jim's body on it.

I know they didn't move it to some other place, and it's definitely not been lit on fire yet, so it can't be that.

When Rick holds out his hand for me to pass him another nail, I leave him hanging. He frowns down at me in concern; confusion. I think he says my name, but then he follows my gaze, followed suit by T-Dog. I can tell the exact moment they catch on.

"Okay," T-Dog levels with nobody in particular, holding up his hands, "That's creepy as shit."

"Stay here," Rick wearily tells us, before jogging away to investigate.

I don't need to be told twice. Clutching the bucket to my stomach like it's a teddy bear, I huddle closer to T, letting him step in front of me as if a chupacabra is gonna pop out from under the debris and gobble us all up. We watch Rick approach the burn pile, creeping up on it, concerned he might wake it up. He peeps this way and that, the hammer held tight in his grasp, ready to strike.

Was Jim bit, I find myself wondering, Was he bit, and we just didn't notice?

No. No, that can't be right. If he was bit, he would've turned long before we had the chance to hang him.

Rick flinches backward. He gawks at his own two feet. I think he might've crossed paths with a snake, or even that chupacabra, but then a hand shoots out from behind the burn pile and we learn the thing tryna bite him ain't an animal. It's got black hair and a grubby red shirt, a pair of milky eyeballs. It's Jim. He crawls after Rick like he's tryna avenge his own death, his neck still swollen and wrong.

Once he's absorbed his own shock, Rick brings the hammer down on Jim's skull, but he's fresh, so it's not mushy like it is usually. He has to bludgeon him two, three, four more times before the bone cracks open like an egg, wet brains dribbling down his face.

We all catch our breaths. I don't think any of us were prepared to watch Jim die twice today.

"Where was the bite?" T-Dog calls out, sounding like he's about to barf all over himself.

Rick kneels to check under Jim's shirt, flip him over, roll up his pant legs, because of course he does. There has to be a bite.

But when he stands, he calls back, "I can't see one."

There's a gaping pause between us all.

"Well, it ain't on his ass cheek, is it?"

Rick raises a brow as he steps over the body. "You wanna go check, be my guest."

"Nah, thank you, man." He answers drily, eyeing the blood dripping from the head of the hammer. "Well, what the Hell happened?"

Instead of telling us he doesn't know, or offering up a theory, Rick just sighs. He tosses the hammer into the little wagon we've been pulling along with us, rubbing at the faint wrinkles on his forehead. I remain hiding behind T-Dog. I know there's no snake or chupacabra to be heard of, and now, not even a Jim. But I don't like the danger in the air. The danger of something being wrong and not knowing what it is.

Rick lowers his hand, gaze landing on me. He keeps it there for a moment.

To be a walker, you gotta get bit. I can't see one. Everyone knows that.

"Come on," He eventually mutters, reaching to take the heavy bucket from me. "Let's get back to the house."

"Rick, what's wrong?" I whine as he grabs my hand. "We ain't workin' on the fence no more? Why?"

T-Dog snatches up the handle of the wagon and hurries after us.

"Don't worry about it, honey," He soothes, giving my fingers a squeeze. "The grownups will handle it, okay?"

Rick says this, just like he always has, but all he does when we get back to camp is eat lunch and talk to Maggie about our progress on the fence. I decide it's not a big deal. I trust him. Maybe he's just waiting until me and Carl aren't around to talk with the other adults about it. Maybe Jim did somehow get bit while he was in the shed. Maybe it really was on his ass cheek. I won't pretend to know.

In any case, I dig into my scrambled eggs and buttered bread without giving it much more thought.

After lunch, the three of us go back to working on the fence, anyway.

"Hope you enjoyed the apple."

With her forehead resting against the window, Beth gazes down at the farm, like some lonely angel peering down at another world. The afternoon sun gently contours the subtle curves of her girlish face, which isn't looking nearly as dreadfully pale as it did before.

"I did," She answers sweetly, smiling as I come to sit next to her on the thin cushions. "Thanks, by the way."

I give a shrug. "Yer sister says peach and pear season's just about up, so all we's got for a while is apples, anyway."

She surprises me by giggling at me, a pretty tinkling sound that suits her. "That shouldn't be a problem for you, right?"

My cheeks go warm. "Huh?"

"I saw you," She explains, a fondness in her eyes. "Chowin' down on that apple just before."

"When I was wit' Glenn and Andrea?"

She nods. "You were smiling. It was nice."

I contemplate calling her a stalker, but all that comes outta my mouth is an amused scoff, rolling my eyes and turning to look out the window. I understand why she likes it up here. I can see the whole farm. People milling about camp, chickens pecking at the ground. And off in the distance, the herd of black cows dotting the paddocks like little beetles, munching on bales of hay. And quiet. Precious quiet.

I glance at the distant treeline, thinking about the recent whispers of the horde. I brush it off quick as I can.

I steal a glance at Beth, instead.

That little smile is still pulling at her lips, a lively glint in the soft green of her eyes.

For some reason - mainly my talent for speaking without thinking - I ask her suddenly, "Do you still wanna die?"

She stiffens ever so slightly, and I only have a few short moments to feel awful about it before she meets my eyes.

"I just mean," I continue, wishing I ever knew the right thing to say. I think back to when Carl was in my exact position, asking nicely for me to not do what Beth did. He also threatened to smack me in the face, but I don't imagine that would go over too well with Beth. Neither would shouting at her like Dad. So, I just do something stupid, another one of my talents, and I improvise. "I been worried about you. Not, like, pity or nothin', but... I know how you feel. And after Dale... I realized that just 'cause people die, it don't mean I gotta die, too. It ain't a reason to wanna die. It's a reason to wanna live. 'Cause I'm just glad I ever knew Dale and Sophia and everyone else that died at all."

I feel encouraged by her glassy expression to keep talking. Not that I could stop myself if I tried.

"So that makes us lucky, y'know. Yer Momma's dead. My Momma's dead. But we loved 'em, and you can keep lovin' other people, but not if you're in a grave somewhere. Besides, it would just pass it on to them that would miss us. Not worth it, if ya ask me."

When I finish my word puke, she pins me with a tense, watery look that makes my insides cramp up.

"Maggie told me," She says, "That if I decided to keep living, that I'd find moments where I'd know I made the right decision."

She takes a deep breath, chuckling afterward.

"I think this is one of those moments," She decides.

"It is?"

I feel a weird sense of pride. I know me and my stupid apple and bad advice didn't singlehandedly solve anythin', but I was able to make her realize she don't got nothin' to regret by surviving her own mind, and that's more than enough for me.

I nod, trying not to smile, because this is supposed to be a serious moment. "Good. That's... good."

Her chuckles turn into laughter. "Why you so awkward all the darn time, Harley?"

Then I'm being wrapped up in a hug. I hate hugs. But this one ain't too terrible.

When we part, I ask her, "Are we friends?"

She seems to find that funny. "'Course."

"Well, my Dad and Glenn are gonna be gone for a few more hours," I tell her, "So, we should play something 'til then."

Beth warns me that she's seventeen years old, so she might not be able to play the same way me and Carl play, but that's okay. We don't have to play pretend or anything. We can do something she likes. Apparently, that's painting our nails. I have to try not to pull a face, but I guess I end up pulling one anyway, because she bursts into giggles and pulls me to my feet. I'm not the biggest fan of girly things. It's just not what I grew up with. I'm used to scuffing my nails while climbing trees and playing in the dirt, not painting them. But I'll give it a go.

"What's your favorite color?" She asks me, setting me down on her bed and rummaging through her desk.

"Yellow," I chirp.

"Actually," She lilts, pulling out a little bottle of yellow polish, squinting at the label. "It's Electric Spring Citrus."

I scoot over to make room for her on the bed, presenting my nails to her.

The afternoon slips away easily after that.

Nighttime paints over the orange sky.

Me and Beth have migrated downstairs by the time the sun has disappeared beneath the farm, lured in by the domestic commotion of dinner being prepared. It's soup again. I recognise the smell by now. While we wait to be served by Maggie and Patricia, the rest of us gather around the coffee table, ribbing each other as we break the rules of a card game Jacqui suggests. Carl keeps cheating by lying about what cards he has, but he's too dumb to realize he'll have to show them to us at some point. I laugh hysterically when he loses.

"You weren't listenin' to the rules, was ya?" I enjoy taunting him as he goes red. "Typical!"

He complains, "Shut up, Harley!"

"Okay, okay," Lori placates, doing a very bad job of hiding her smile behind her fan of cards. "Settle down."

I almost don't think about Dad and Glenn or Dale or Sophia or Shane or Momma for the whole game. By my standards, that makes for a good time. Carl continues losing miserably, whining even more miserably-er, while Jacqui beats us over and over again.

I'm reminded of the night we had our first dinner together - The one where Patricia made everyone feel super uncomfortable, and then I almost died. It's hard to believe this is the same house and the same people. Probably because it's filled with laughter.

We continue playing even through dinner.

When I lose for the fifth time, I take my bowl of soup and retire to one of the sofas, settling in next to Rick and quietly sipping at the warm broth. He sends me a bit of a look as if to ask me if I'm okay, probably reading my face in that weird way he got, noticing I'm thinking about Dad and Glenn. I reply with a simple nod. He doesn't seem satisfied with that response, but he can't do nothin' about it.

It's too noisy in here for him to talk to me, and neither of us know a single lick of sign language.

So, he just gives me a thumbs up and hopes it gets the point across. They'll be okay.

Eventually, even Herschel gets roped into playing.

"Hey, I actually happen to know a thing or two about this," He tells us, before proceeding to eviscerate Jacqui at her own game.

We all go awww, as she throws down her cards.

"Darn..." She sighs. "You weren't lyin', old man."

"As Jesus as my witness," He holds up a hand, "I never lie."

Lori asks, "Where'd you learn to get this good?"

"I used to spend a lot of my time in bars, young lady." He explains. "I got more than enough practice finessing card games."

"Well, I'd say it paid off."

He raises his fluffy white brows. "They used to call me Great-Hand Greene back in the day, you know."

Everybody in the room can't help but laugh.

"Now, Daddy," Maggie exclaims, "That's a lie!"

Great-Hand Greene calmly enlightens her, "It surely isn't."

This is the moment headlights turn into the driveway. Everyone turns to look. My heart squeezes. Dad and Glenn. The two lights come to a sudden stop, watching us like two eyeballs through the dark. The sound of doors slamming. I place my bowl on the coffee table and hurry out of the lounge room, followed by some other footsteps. But when I reach the foyer, the door bursts open without my doing.

Dad first, then Glenn. Both of my lungs deflating in relief, and then both of them knotting right back up again.

"That horde's headed this way," Dad wastes no time in announcing, "And it ain't stopping for nothin'."

Everybody freezes. A horde? The horde? Headed our way? Right now?

Rick pushes past everyone. "You saw it?"

"Trust me, man." He jokes dryly, shaking his head. "You can't miss this thing anymore."

"There were hundreds of them," Glenn agrees, frantic. His hair is suckered to his forehead with sweat, even though the season's turned. "We were over by Mallory Road when we caught wind of them; got us stuck for a couple hours until we could slip past."

"Not that it matters now," Dad snides.

Maggie asks, "Were you able to get the hearin' aid?"

He gives a nod, but nobody's paying attention. "Bits and pieces."

"Patricia," Herschel orders, our card game long forgotten, "Kill the lights."

We follow Rick out onto the porch. The night welcomes us with a cold gust of wind. At first, I can't see much of anythin', but then the lights blink out one by one and my stomach drops into the floorboards. On the other side of the field, leaking out from between the trees, are bodies, bodies, and bodies, so many it's not worth trying to count. They make the group on the highway look like a couple of stragglers.

As the masses of feet stumble up the driveway, I'm hit with the feeling that our fences aren't going to save us.

"I'll get the guns." Andrea mutters, and I think that feeling has hit everyone else, too.

Rick runs off in the direction of the cars. It's where we've kept our bags of emergency supplies for a time like this. Does that mean we're gonna leave? Or are we gonna fight? Is it even possible? I didn't even get to finish my soup. That feels important, somehow.

"Maybe they're just passing." Somebody stupidly guesses. "Like that herd on the highway."

"Should we go back inside?"

"Not unless there's a tunnel downstairs I don't know about." Dad drawls, gazing out. "Horde this size will rip the house down."

I worry up at him, "Daddy, I don't want it to rip the house down."

He shushes me, putting a strong hand on the nape of my neck, squeezing reassuringly. I let it calm me. I feel a fool for panicking, but if there were ever a time to panic, it would be now. I cling to him as Andrea dumps the bag of guns on the floor. She passes them out to everyone that got two thumbs and a brain. Maggie, Glenn, Dad, Rick. Jimmy. Even Herschel. Nobody is being left out of this fight.

Not even me and Carl. A gun is pushed each of our hands. You know how to use it, I remind myself.

"This the plan, then?" Dad confirms with everyone, because it's crazy. "We take 'em all on?"

Andrea passes me a loaded mag. I don't have to count the bullets inside to know it's not enough.

"We have guns. We have cars."

"We kill as many as we can." She's on board. "We'll use the cars to lead the rest of them off the farm."

"The burn pile," Glenn adds, "There's a bunch of kerosine and matches down there. We could lure them into the barn, set it on fire."

Rick climbs back onto the porch. "Bags are all packed. If things start to get hairy, we can leave."

"We're not leaving." Herschel argues.

"Herschel���"

"This is my farm." His voice booms as he pumps a pair of fat bullets into his shotgun's chamber, fire in his eyes. "I'll die here."

"Alright." Dad lilts over the droning rumble of death incoming, looking around for objections. "It's as good a night as any."

I get herded into Maggie's car. Dad gives my face a kiss and slams the door shut. I bump the mag up into the chamber. I know how to use it. I do. Two more slams. Glenn at the wheel, Maggie in the passenger seat. I've shot two walkers before, when I was out in the woods with Shane. I just have to do it again. And after that, again and again until they're all gone. Glenn stomps on the gas. The car screeches forward, ripping through the grass, barrelling into the night. I don't even bother buckling myself in. That's not how I would die tonight.

"You got enough ammo back there, honey?" Maggie fusses, digging through the glovebox and throwing me a spare.

"Thanks." I catch the cardboard box, trying not to shiver as Glenn rolls down all the windows. Groans and wind flood the car.

He shouts, "Start shooting!"

Just like that, gunshots erupt from all possible angles.

I grip my pistol tight, aim it out the window. You're gonna hold it like this, Shane's voice tells me, Firm. Confident. You're the one in control, here. I'm in control. My home's bein' invaded by the dead, and a horde this size might rip the house down, but I'm in control. The car spins. I lurch. It's hard to aim like this, but I gotta try. I line my eye up with the wobbling sight. I breathe in and out.

I squeeze. BANG. 

I can't even tell what I hit, or if I hit anything at all, but it don't matter. I squeeze again. BANG.

Glenn weaves us in and out, around, through the horde, never getting too close, never veering too far.

In the other car, T-Dog, Andrea, and Carl. They swerve around us, shooting down every dead bastard they can hit.

I squeeze. BANG.

BANG, and again, BANG, and again, BANG.

The jaw of a nearby walker explodes off its meaty hinges. It swings around. It trips. It slumps. I've killed it.

"How we doing back there, Harley?" Glenn calls out. "You okay?"

"I— I'm fine!" I shout back, pulling my body back into my seat to reload.

I peel open the box of ammo. A curse falls from my tongue when the little bullets go tumbling onto my feet, rolling under the seats. I quickly snatch them up, shoving them into the mag. On the other side of the car door, fireworks of gunpowder and bullets, squealing tires and breaking bones, a blazing Hellfire lighting up the sky. Orange and roaring. I notice it, then. Dad. Rick. That must be them. They've set the barn on fire. It's cracking and falling to pieces, a burning church. The walkers fight to get inside like it's the last Sunday on Earth.

An important beam succumbs to the flames, snapping in half like a broken twig, bringing the rest down with it.

I hear wood breaking, and then there are chickens running lose across the field, screaming, flapping.

I squeeze and I squeeze and I squeeze. BANG.

A rotten old man crumples to the ground. BANG.

A lady's shoulder bursts open, a pop of bone and muscle. BANG.

A girl with one of the poor birds in her mouth, choking on feathers, dead. BANG.

For every one we kill, five more are there within a heartbeat to replace it. Glenn's foot falters on the pedal, and we come to a crawl, and then a stop, unable to do much but watch as the farm is consumed. This is a losing battle. There's no other type.

Herschel said we weren't leaving tonight, but that can't be true. I guess he is a liar, after all.

"We gotta go," Maggie's shaking her head, the tears in her eyes collecting like little pearls. "We're not gonna win this. We gotta go."

As if only to prove her point, the barn collapses once and for all. I almost feel like crying.

"I'm sorry, Maggie." Glenn says weakly.

Yeah. Me, too. I gaze out at the oak tree, still standing bravely; the little wooden crosses clueless beneath it.

As Glenn drives us back into the chaos, my pistol stays in my lap. I don't got any bullets left, anyway. I just sit there, watching everything pan by. Mine and Dad's camping spot, tucked away in the distant trees, just how we liked it. The crumbled fireplace where I talked to Dale for the last time. The shed. The swing outside it me and Carl used to play on. The orchard. The patch of dirt where Sophia died.

I wish I had the power to know when things were gonna end. That way, I could've savoured my last day.

It's not as cool as the superpower's them people in Carl's comics got, but it's the one I'd want.

It was silly. Working on the fences today with Rick and T-Dog made me think we were gonna be okay.

When I look up, we're approaching the house. Jacqui's sitting on the porch steps all by herself, staring out at us.

Glenn pulls us in close, getting out and hovering around the hood of the car, waving her over. "Come on! We gotta go!"

I crawl across the seats and shove open the door. "Jacqui? Come on!"

She's not coming. Why is she not coming? The door is open. We can all leave together. When I call out her name again, she convulses ever so slightly, as if she's got a bad cough but doesn't wanna let it out. I feel my face fall all at once. Her arm gives out, slumping from her neck, into her lap. I notice the blood first, all ten gallons of it, and then the bite. Her muscles spasm again. Oh. No, no, no.

"Jacqui?" I call out uselessly, but Glenn's already back in the driver's seat and Jacqui's already dying.

"C-Close your door, Harley," He orders, slamming his own.

She's dying. We can't stay here. I know both these things, but it still takes everything in me to pull the door shut.

After that, the deaths just keep coming. We drive past Patricia as the horde pull her into their mouths, Jimmy as he stumbles from the RV, clutching at his open throat. There's nothing we can do for any of them, but we manage to reach Carol just in time. She climbs into the seat next to me, and we ask her if she's seen anybody else, but she hasn't; she hasn't seen anybody.

Turning my face to the open window, I let the wind dry my tears, seein' as my Daddy ain't here to do it for me.

The faces of the horde pass by, a sea of rats on a burning ship.

I want to go collect my things. I want to pet the cows one last time. I want to do everything we won't get to.

My body lurches all on its own, then.

A face in the crowd. It's different from the rest. I'm not good with faces or names, something my teachers used to grumble over, but I'm good with this one. That one walker, tucked in with the rest of them, wearing the Police cap. It's Shane Walsh, dead and walking.

How? How is that possible? Why are the tears back tenfold, now?

Lit by the moon and the flames, I see his broken cheekbones for the first time since that day, the way they're bulbous like apples, mishappen like clay. Everything about him is wrong. His nose is broke. Clothes all mussed up. Ribs pouring. His eyes are glossed over. He don't seem to mind his broken body, or the fire, or the smoke. He just wants what all other walkers want. To bite into something. It's him, but not.

I almost want him to look at me. I clutch my locket, wanting our eyes to meet just to make him prove it.

This just can't be true. He didn't get bit. He got shot and beaten, but he didn't get bit.

As if I've willed him to do it, he looks my way.

"Carol," I croak, watching as he noses at the air like the animal Dad always said he was, "You got any bullets left?"

I feel something being placed in my hand. It feels just like the locket, but colder. I shakily load it into the chamber; lift the gun. I believe in you, His voice is back. Now line your eye up with the sight. I stare down the barrel, carefully placing his face on top of the sights. I only have this one bullet. I can't miss. Not only because I need to put him down, but because I think I want to make him proud.

Breathe, I take a deep breath, In and out. 

Damn it. These fuckin' tears, they're messing up my aim. I smack them away and line up my shot again.

And squeeze.

BANG.

All the air rushes outta my lungs as his body hits the ground, disappearing amongst the horde.

I lower the gun.

Carol's already looking at me before I glance her way.

When we peel onto the highway, I can still see the flames burning over the tops of the trees, like some old religious painting.

Maggie breaks the silence. "What if nobody else made it?"

Nobody answers. I preferred it when the only noise in the car was the gentle humming of the engine, but I can't blame her for asking. We got no idea who else made it out alive. The four of us are all alone out here. Ain't no phone number we can just dial to ask if they're alright.

"They made it," Glenn eventually just decides, staring out at his high beams on the dark road. "They had to."

"Well, how are we going to find them?" Carol asks innocently, petting my hair as I lay my head in her lap. "They could be anywhere."

Maggie sighs. "We could circle back to that place I found y'all on the highway?"

"No," Mumbles Glenn. I can see his finger tapping against the wheel. "No, the horde came from that direction."

That's where our ideas run dry.

"Glenn?" I whine, clutching at my temple. He glances at me in the mirror, concern in his eyes. "My head. The ringing. Hurts."

He makes a troubled sound. "It must've been all those gunshots... I'm sorry."

Carol suggests, "Maybe we should just stop somewhere for the night."

There's a pause between them, but it's a short one, because it doesn't take much for Glenn to agree. He's musing to himself about how we can't drive all night. It would be a better use of gas to drive in the daylight. But really, we all know it's because he's a big softie.

He pulls us into a little nook on the side of the highway, killing the engine and turning on the ceiling light.

"I'm sorry," He says again, as if he put the ringing inside my head himself. "Maybe there's something in the supplies?"

Maggie unzippers the bag at her feet, pushing around the stuff inside it, shaking her head. "Just some water. Thirsty?"

I shake my head.

"I think we should all get some sleep." Says Carol, her voice a whisper.

Yeah. A good sleep sounds really good right about now. I think we've earnt it. Georgia will still be here when we wake up.

"Okay." He reaches up to press the ceiling button that turns on the moon, its dim white light spilling across the console in the dark. We all loosen slightly, completely exhausted. "We can just pick up again tomorrow. I'm sure the others are doing the same thing."

"Goodnight," Maggie tries to smile, reaching around her seat to stroke my shoulder.

"Goodnight," I mumble, echoed by Glenn and Carol, and then it's silent.

I close my eyes.

No eggs and buttered bread for breakfast today. Just a stale granola bar I gotta split with Carol, and a sip of water I gotta split with all three of them. After we take turns peein' in the bushes outside, we're back on the road again, and we're on it all day.

I don't know where we're going. I don't think Glenn knows, either.

I'm starting to think we might be driving all night, too, by the time we run into the others. That's right, the others. Herschel's shitty old pick-up truck is parked in a swath of brown leaves on the side of the road, right next to Dad's truck and bike, and another grey car.

When Glenn pulls on the brake, I think we're all crying happy tears, but I'm too busy crying happy tears to notice.

I climb out, grinning, running into my Dad's arms.

"Harley," He sighs in relief as he picks me up, squeezes me tight. "I knew they'd take good care of ya."

"I knew you'd take good care of you," I giggle, hooking my chin over his shoulder.

"How did you guys find each other?" Glenn marvels.

"Well, when I saw their little Toyota goin' the speed limit," He nods behind him, "Figured there just had to be a cop at the wheel."

As chuckles break out between the group, he places me back on the ground.

Maggie asks, "Where's the rest of us?"

"We're the only ones that made it so far," Rick answers, and it's now I notice just how much smaller we are now; barely ten. We're just as alone as we were when it was just me, Glenn, Maggie, and Carol. No shelter, no food, no direction. Feathers in the wind.

"Where's Andrea?"

Lori shakes her head. "She was with us at the farm, but we got separated."

"Did you see Jacqui?"

Jacqui. Poor Jacqui. Maggie, Glenn, and I share a look without even meaning to.

"It was awful, Dad," I mutter, the memory caught in my throat, "We found 'er by the house, but we had to leave her behind."

Glenn explains, "She was bit."

"They got Patricia, too." Beth says. "Took her right in front of me. I was holdin' onto her, Daddy, but they just..."

"We saw Jimmy, too." Maggie sighs as Herschel wraps her little sister in a hug. "He was in the RV. It got overrun."

"But, you guys definitely saw Andrea?"

"There— There were walkers everywhere," Lori seems sorry to say, "But, yeah. We saw her."

"Well, we have to go back for her."

Rick argues, "We don't even know if she's still there."

"She ain't." Dad butts in. "She's either somewhere else or she's dead."

"So, we're not even gonna look for her?"

"No. We gotta keep moving." Rick agrees. "There's walkers all over the place."

Maggie scoffs, "That's an understatement if I ever heard one."

"I say we head East." Dad suggests, pointing vaguely in the direction of the sinking sun, cresting through the fog. "Head East, and stay off any main roads like this one. Bigger the road, the more walkers we gon' run into. The more assholes like this one."

He lifts his hands from where he's been resting them on my back, swinging the crossbow off his shoulder.

"I got him." He grumbles, sending a bolt through the stray walker's nose.

"Well, I hate to tell you guys," T-Dog scratches at his head, "But we been riding red for the past hour."

"We can't all fit into two cars."

Rick decides, "We'll have to make a run for some gas in the morning."

"Spend the night here?" Beth hisses, shivering lightly. "I'm freezin'."

"We'll build a fire." He gestures at my Dad. "You can go out lookin' for firewood, but stay close."

He raises a greasy brow. "I only got so many arrows, man. We can't just sit here with our asses hangin' out."

"Watch your mouth," He snips.

Glenn raises his hands at the group. "Everyone just stop panicking, and listen to Rick."

"Look, Glenn and I can go make a run right now," Maggie placates, "Try and scrounge up some gas so we can get back on the road."

"No." He shuts her down. "We stay together. God forbid something happens and people get stranded without a car."

That other side of Rick is back - Someone I might as well start callin' Second Rick; Scary Rick - and everyone can tell. It's the same one that was outside the shed, telling us with no room for argument that he was going to execute Jim. He's tense. He's a rubber band pulled tight, his eyes darting from face to face, just waiting for a flash of disagreement from somebody for him to pounce on.

I make sure he don't find one on my face. I'm not keen on upsettin' him.

Glenn's a little braver than me, though, because he says incredulously, "Rick, we're stranded now."

He shakes his head. Not listening. Not accepting it. Just, No, no, no. 

"I know it looks bad," He reasons, even though we don't need to be told. "We've all been through Hell and worse. But we found each other. I wasn't sure. I really wasn't, but..." He scans our faces again, a little less coldly this time, taking us all in. "But we did it. We're together, and that's all that matters. We'll find shelter someplace. It's gotta be out there somewhere. It's gotta be."

But we had shelter already, I feel like shouting at him, I don't want another one.

"Rick, look around, okay?" Glenn's voice raises. "There's walkers everywhere. They're— They're migrating or something."

"There's gotta be a place not just where we hole up," Rick doubles down without care for what he's saying, smacking his knuckles into his palm. "But that we can fortify. Hunker down. Pull something together for ourselves. Build a life for each other."

That's what we tried to do at the farm. He should know that. He was the one fixing the fences with me.

"I know it's out there," He says angrily, as if that place he's talkin' about is hiding just to spite him. "We just have to find it."

I muster up the courage to voice my thoughts.

"But, Rick," I say, "How many those places we already been?"

He shakes his head again. "We fooled ourselves into thinking they were safe. We won't make that mistake again."

At the quarry, our mistake was being too close to the city. That was way back in the beginning when nobody had died yet, and we thought we just had to wait it out until the army came. But they didn't. And after that, our second mistake was trusting Jenner. We wanted answers, but we almost lost everything trying to get 'em. Then, the farm. I guess that was a mistake, too, now. You never know 'til after.

I don't say anything to that. It's cold, and I'm hungry, and I don't want to argue any more.

He's pleased with my silence. "Okay... We make camp tonight here; get back on the road at the break of day."

Carol murmurs something.

Whatever it was, Beth agrees with her. "What if walkers come through, or another group like Jim's?"

"Speaking of Jim," T-Dog fixes Rick with a look. "We ever gonna talk about him?"

Lori's confused. "What do you mean? What could possibly be left to talk about?"

"We saw him turn," He's happy to reveal to everyone. "Thing is, though, he wasn't bit."

"How is that possible?"

"Shane, too." I blurt. "I— I saw him when the farm went down."

Lori turns her gawking expression onto her husband. "What the Hell is going on?"

He's not looking at any of us. He's glaring at some ordinary pebble on the ground, brooding, hesitating.

Then, "We're all infected."

What?

It's so vague and profound that nobody knows what to make of it.

My Dad does us all a favor and squints at him. "How you mean?"

"At the CDC," He confesses, his voice a hoarse whisper that I can only just make out, "Jenner told me. Whatever it is, we all carry it."

We all carry—? The germs that make the dead ones come back? We all carry them?

He's been lyin' to us this whole time. The CDC, that was months ago.

Sometimes, lying ain't just sayin' something. It's not sayin' something. Daddy taught me that the night I told him I'd had a good day at school, and then come dinnertime, I let it slip that Ethan, the boy that sat behind me in class, had actually punched me in the belly that day at lunch. He got so mad. He ripped off my shirt. There was a purple blotch on my pale skin. Then he taught me how to punch boys back.

That's what Rick's done. He's hidden a purple blotch from us, and now we should be angry.

Carol steps forward, her silver brows pinched. "And you never said anything?"

I consider my body. I don't feel sick. Not like I did when we thought I was bitten.

Rick lamely asks, "Would it have made a difference?"

Yes, I think, but he already knows that.

Glenn accuses him, "You knew. You knew this whole time."

So, that's why Jim and Shane woke back up. You don't gotta get bit. You just gotta die and come back with enough to be able to bite.

That means even if you jumped off a bridge and all your bones were broken and you died, you would still come back.

My—

My Momma would'a still come back.

"How could I have known for sure, huh? Until we found Jim, I had no proof Jenner was even tellin' the truth. You saw how crazy that mother f—"

Glenn cuts him off. "That is not your call. Okay?"

"When Daryl found out about the walkers in the barn," Lori adds, "He told everyone as soon as he had the chance."

Rick don't care. "Well... I thought it best if people didn't know."

Glenn and Dad look right at me. Like they've both thought the same thing I have. They're the only ones here that know what happened to my Momma. I remember telling Glenn about it at the CDC. Momma. We were outta the city when it happened. It was the night the world ended twice. First when we got the call, and again when our neighbours tried to eat us. It's a lot of people's worst ever night. It's mine.

I won't ever know for sure, but I'd be kidding myself if I thought the rules didn't apply to my Momma.

At least we know that if any of us were to die, the others would make sure we didn't turn. Survivor's honor, or whatever it's called.

The silence goes on for so long that he just gives us one last look over, turns, and walks away. Nobody cares where.

Dad crouches; looks up at me. "You okay, baby?"

"Yeah," My voice wobbles, but I'm telling the truth. "I just... Don't wanna think about it."

Glenn clears his throat. "Well, it looks like we don't have much of a choice about this. We need to set up camp."

As everyone slowly breaks off to do their part, Dad takes my hand and leads me over to his motorcycle. "Got somethin' for ya."

Oh, right. The hearing aid; bits and pieces.

I'd almost forgotten.

"I hope it ain't complicated," I tell him, fiddling with my craggled ear. "Maggie said Herschel don't know about this stuff."

"We'll figure it out." He promises, before squeezing my hand and letting it go. "I ain't even sure if they work."

He opens the saddlebag, taking out a wrinkled plastic bag. He reaches in and pulls out what looks like an unusually shaped piece of skin-colored plastic with a rubber bulb on the end. And two other hearing aids, one brown and one purple, the type I'd recognise.

He stuffs the bag away and tucks some hair behind my good ear, making room to stick the first one in.

"I think it goes like that." He leans in closer, messing around with something on the back of it. "How do I—...?"

Something clicks.

All of a sudden, there are birds in the trees.

My eyes go wide, jaw dropping, gawking out at the forest like I've never seen one before.

A grin sneaks its way onto my face.

"The birds," I muse quietly, taking in the sounds of their distant chirps. "I can hear 'em, Dad."

It's not perfect. It's not as crisp as it was before. I think the batteries are low. But I don't care. It's still one of my favorite sounds.

He's smiling faintly up at me. "Good."

"Dad, your voice!"

"My voice?"

"I forgot what it's s'posed to sound like," I giggle. "It's so loud. And annoying."

He snorts, giving my butt a smack for being silly. "Well now when ya tire of my naggin', you can just pull that thing out."

As quickly as it had come to life, it makes a crackling noise, a sudden beep, and then there are no more birds.

I pluck the aid out my ear, giving it a bittersweet look. It didn't last forever, but it was nice while it did.

He mumbles something; then, louder, "We'll find some more batteries soon. Sorry, baby."

"Don't be sorry." I say. "It was perfect."

After packing them back into the saddlebag, we leave to collect firewood together. I imagine the sounds of the birds around us.

Night comes. We can't stop it.

I pretend we're camping.

We're not stranded. No, we just decided to go on a camping trip together because we thought it would be fun. That's why we're all huddled around a campfire in the dark, instead of sleeping in our beds at the farm. I'm curled up against Dad's stomach, which is better than a bed, I think. Beth's cuddled into her Dad's side, too, staring into the flames while Maggie and Glenn whisper to each other beside them.

I wish we had a deck of cards. I wish any of us would wanna play.

We got nothing but a wall of stone to protect us from the forest on the other side, but I pretend that away, too.

I just focus on the sound of an owl hooting somewhere off in the trees. I bet it ain't scared. Owls; they know the night.

Tomorrow, we're gonna have cheap steak and ketchup for breakfast, and then Merle's gonna let me sit on his shoulders just like always.

"We're not safe with him," Carol suddenly mutters, and that's not something I can pretend away. I'm back here, now, and we're stranded. No steak. No ketchup. No Merle. "Keeping something like that from us. Why do we need him? He's just gonna pull us all down."

Maybe I don't wanna be camping, anyway. It's good enough right here, surrounded by the people I care about.

"Nah." Dad's voice is a rumble in my lower back. "Rick's done alright by me and mine."

I cuddle further into him, shuddering lightly as he rubs my cold arms. His leather vest don't make a great blanket.

"You're his henchman." She reminds him. "And I'm a burden."

He scoffs. "And Harley?"

"You both deserve better," She says softly, her face pensive in the orange light.

It don't matter what we deserve, I told Shane when he said the same thing.

Unamused, Dad pries, "What do you want?"

"A man of honor."

"Rick has honor."

They leave it at that. I think they wish we had a deck of cards, too.

The owl hoots again.

Then, a branch breaks.

CRACK.

I straighten.

"What was that?" Beth murmurs worriedly. "Was it a walker?"

We all stare off into the dark, ready to fight whatever might come out of it.

"Could be anythin'," Dad mumbles as he stands, readying his bow. "Could be a racoon. Could be a possum. Could be the Easter bunny."

Carol hugs herself. "We need to leave. I mean, what are we waiting for?"

"Which way?" Glenn asks.

Maggie points at the thin trees behind T-Dog. "It came from over there."

"That's back from where we came."

"Yeah."

"The last thing we need is for everyone to be running off in the dark." Rick scolds us, reminding us he's here. The light from the fire washes him in flame, the dried blood on his forehead glistening with sweat. "We don't have the vehicles. No one's travelling on foot."

"Don't panic," Herschel soothes us all calmly, still clutching his shotgun.

Maggie argues, "I'm— I'm not sittin' here, waitin' for another herd to blow through. We need to move. Now."

"No one is goin' anywhere," Rick snarls.

"Do something!"

"I am doin' somethin'!" He retorts. If he really was that rubber band, this is the part where he would snap in two. "I am keepin' this group together. Alive! I've been doing that all along, no matter what. I didn't ask for this. I shot my best friend for you people, for Christ's sakes! For you Daryl, and you, Harley. I was the one that took care of Jim. Me! Everything! Everything has been on me!"

I know I said we were supposed to be angry with him. But, actually, I think we're just scared.

Lori's holding Carl's head to her chest. Dad stands in front of me, as if he doesn't want me to see. T-Dog, Glenn, Maggie; all with their mouths sealed shut, not sure where to look, or what to say. Is this really the same Rick that comforted me at dinner?

"Maybe you people are better off without me." He shrugs, taunting us. "Sure. Go ahead."

I've never had to be a leader before. I did have to kill Shane, but Rick's done so much more for us. I'm not better off without him.

"I say there's a place for us out there, but maybe—" He's just rambling, now. "Maybe it's just another pipe dream. Maybe I'm— Maybe I'm fooling myself again. I'm just as much a sucker as Shane was. But, hey, why don't you go find out yourself?"

He sweeps his hand behind him, presenting us with the forest.

"Huh? Send me a postcard."

I can't hear the owl anymore. I think it flew away.

"Go on. There's the door. You think you can do better? Let's see how far you get."

I pull the leather of Dad's vest up to my face, shyly peeping over the top of it; breathing shakily. I don't want to see how far I can get. I want to stay right here with my people, whether we're starving or not; freezing or not. I think everyone else does, too.

Or at the very least, they want to stay here where there's a warm fire and guns.

"No takers?" He lilts. "Fine. But get one thing straight. If you're staying—"

He pins every single one of us with a look.

"— This isn't a democracy, anymore."

That word Dale used. The one that means things is fair.

Then he sits right back down where he was before, like he didn't just threaten to abandon us all.

Slowly, everyone else sits back down too, because there's nothing else to do. We all heard him. We can't leave. When Dad settles in behind me again, I squirrel into his chest, his arms wrapping around me. There's no sound except for the branches crackling in the fire and the heartbeat beneath his shirt. I don't know where we go from here. But I do know Dad will keep me safe, and Rick will keep the group safe. He's worked himself raw and bloody to make sure we survive. The fish fry, the CDC, the highway, Shane, the fall of the farm. All of it.

We didn't survive all that bullshit just to fall apart now. There's still something out there for us.

We just have to find it.

Author's Notes.

I sincerely hope you enjoyed 😊

I'm sad to see the farm go, but we had a nice time while we were there.

Please leave a comment! I'm anxious to hear from you all after so long :)

[rickorty4thesoul]

Cotton Candy

TW: Grooming, non-explicit mentions of sa, and implied drug use

The cotton candy melted on his tongue, coating it with a sickening sweet flavor. He had always liked cotton candy, most children do. Funny enough, Rick also liked cotton candy. He would even sneak in a bag or two at night to share with him, even when he wasn't supposed to have sweets after bedtime.

Don't tell your mom about this, Morty. It'll be our little secret.

So, of course he didn't. What kid would pass up an opportunity to be able to do whatever they want, whenever they want. Rick was kind of like a kid in that aspect.

It used to be fun, but now Morty wishes Rick had never started this little mission. The candy was starting to taste bitter to him, leaving an awful aftertaste in his mouth. Rick said that was normal though, he would get used to it in time. He sometimes wondered if Rick had ever tasted candy as bitter as this before, or if it was just him.

Lock the door, Morty. We don't won't anymore walking in on us, now do we?

No, he didn't. He might get in trouble, and he didn't want to get in trouble, even though it was Rick who brought the cotton candy in the first place. Besides, he couldn't share this candy with anyone, no matter how much he wanted to, because this was only meant for him and Rick to share.

Sometimes, he would bring other stuff too, chocolates, lollipops, and gumdrops. He also brought weird, white powdery stuff that would make Morty dizzy and sick. Rick was nice though and didn't make fun of him when he threw up the first time.

But he continued to urge Morty on, getting him take it little by little every time he visited. And Morty always got a treat afterwards, even if he didn't want one.

You're a big boy now, so you get to try big boy things with grandpa.

But out of all the candies, cotton candy was still his favorite. He liked the texture; it was soft like his bedsheets. He never realized how silky smooth they were under him before. The fabric was always cool and soft when he clenched it in his little hands, and it didn't hurt his back from the friction and sharp movements going through his body.

He washed them regularly because he couldn't stand dirty bedding, he had to wash them every day now but that was okay, the flowery smell was much better than the smell of cigarette smoke that came from his grandfather's body. Rick always praised him for being such a clean boy. Too bad he didn't feel clean.

It was always hard eating candy in the dark, so Rick had made him light-up stars to hang on his ceiling. He liked to look at them when he shared his candy with Rick. They were in just the right position over his grandfather's shoulder that he could see them perfectly. Everything else disappeared for a while as long as he looked up at those bright, shiny stars.

You really like those, don't you Morty. How about you show me how much you appreciate them.

Rick smelled like cotton candy too, but it was slightly off. Rick didn't seem to notice it. He couldn't understand how though, it was so overpowering he was surprised no one else could smell it at the dinner table or when they were watching tv in the living room. It was too sweet of a smell; he didn't like it.

Rick just laughed at him, told him he was imagining things from all the sweets he ate. Rick liked to joke that he was as sweet as candy; maybe that's why Rick liked tasting him so much. Sharp bites to the flesh by his throat and torso, followed by a soft tongue sliding over the open wounds. Sticky, gooey, corn syrup blood.

Does it really bother you that much? I thought you liked the sweets I brought you.

He did like them, that's why is mouth always tasted like cotton candy. Too bad it was ruined by the taste of alcohol.

[blackbat05]

Off Course

Rick Flag x Reader

Plot: Rick does everything in his power to find you, even if it means going off course again.

A/N: Research recruitment is stressing me out so... here is the product of my stress? Please excuse my brain as I wrote this in one go🤡

Genre: PG-13

"I have to find her, Harley." Rick packs the last of his belongings into a backpack, putting a cap on his head. "It's because of me, she's missing. Please understand."

She twirls her strawberry-blonde hair, following him like a lost puppy. As Rick prepares to leave, she plants herself in front of the door, arms outstretched.

"Harley..."

"I'm not stopping you from leaving, stupid." She says as if it's the most obvious thing in the world. "When you find her, you'll need this," She places the rumpled picture into this hand.

"Thank you."

"Hey, anything for a friend."

***

Kowloon, Hong Kong

It's difficult, but Rick succeeds anyways. No one knows that he disobeyed orders to carry out a mission on his own. He slips through the bustling crowd, carefully navigating his way around according to the intel given by a local contact he met two days ago.

Laughter fills his ears and he sees couples and families lining the street stalls. He can't lose focus now.

Turning into a smaller alleyway, he continues straight before hitting a dead end. He compares the photo with the run-down shop. Rick hopes that he'll get results.

Pushing the door open with a loud creek, he can't help but shiver at the sight of stained blood painted on the walls. It didn't matter if it used to be a butcher shop, there was something sinister about this place.

Rick sees a set of stairs that lead to the basement. His soldier instincts are screaming for him to retreat but he moves towards it. If there's any chance... he has to take it.

As he descends the stairs, Rick strains his ears to alert him of any activity. He hears a couple of weak whimpers.

Drawing out his service weapon, he raises it in front, preparing himself for whatever he was about to find.

"Please... I have children... I won't tell anyone about this if you let me go."

Rick waits in hiding and sees a pudgy figure stepping out in an apron. He forces himself to stay calm at the sight of the pig mask that the man was wearing.

"Pyg will make you perfect again... Pyg will rid of all imperfections!"

What a psycho.

Rick's had enough. He starts to make a move from his hiding place. He clicks his gun, before putting it to the man's head.

"Drop it before I blow your sorry brains out."

The Professor snorts, breaking out into uncontrollable wheezing. Rick forces the tip of the gun on his temple, showing that he meant business. Oh hell, what was he even doing here? He shouldn't be making the same mistake again.

A man that couldn't turn a blind eye to people in need of help.

"What a pleasure to finally meet the Colonel himself in the flesh!" Pyg squeals. "How about I introduce you to my children?"

Rick finds himself being hit squarely in the jaw by one of Pyg's victims. He forces the image of what the demented psychopath has done to them. He had bigger issues at hand. Sure, they were lobotomized but they were still civilians. He couldn't make a move.

"Heads up!"

A black figure zooms from above before kicking the Professor in the head, knocking him unconscious.

"Looks like I'm late to the party again."

Rick is given a pistol.

"They’re pellets that I designed. Enough to knock them out but it won't kill them."

The Colonel didn't need an invitation. Together, the two had swiftly taken out every hostile with ease. Soon, he stands over a pile of unconscious bodies. The mystery person gets off the phone and Rick moves toward them. Maybe they have some clues.

"Hey, thank you for saving me back there." The person looks at him impassively through their mask. Rick feels at a loss but he has to try anyways, he has wasted too much time deviating off course. He thought he would find you here.

"I was trying to find someone but I ended up in this mess," he gestures, chuckling a little at his current predicament. "I was hoping you could help me to find this person." Rick proceeds to take the photo from his pocket-

"You mean this girl?" The person holds up the familiar photo.

"What? How did you?"

The person removes their mask, and Rick is frozen on the spot. You stand in front of him, heavily battle-scared, tears rolling down your cheeks.

"You dumbass." You sniffled. "You could never walk away from a person in need could you?"

Rick snaps out of his shock, striding over to give you a big embrace. He buries himself into the crook of your neck, refusing to let you go. He is afraid that if he tries to see your face, you'll disappear.

"I'm sorry." He apologizes. "I'm so sorry... if I didn't leave you back then..."

"Rick, I'm here." You gently look into his eyes. "I'm not going anywhere." Dredging up old memories that would only hurt both of you was useless. Besides, you never blamed him. In fact-

"I knew you would come and find me eventually."

The sound of sirens pierced through the air. You turn to him and smile.

“Perhaps we should take this somewhere else. We do have a lot to catch up on, don’t we?”

[ronniescribbles]

Tiny CuRickosity (Wonder Day)

Flesh Curtains!Rick Sanchez x Little!Reader

Rainbow Week 2022 (created by @whimsycreator)

629 Words 

“The world is filled with wonder and beauty. Life is mysterious.” – After a long night of performing, Rick shows you how he truly feels about your regression.

You can read it on AO3 here!

A/N: Day 3 of Rainbow Week! This is my first time writing for Rick, so I may have went a little off theme, but I wanted to have extra fun with it💗 p.s. I struggled so hard with this title😭

Rick was exhausted, you could easily see by the bags under his eyes darkening more than usual. A full night of bar shows would do that to you, for sure. He fumbled with his guitar, examining it for marks and scratches. His focus seemed to be on nothing in particular, though, just flipping between channels of distractions. 

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

Moonlight partially illuminated the inside of the tour bus, which was less of a tour bus and more of a dingy, poorly customized, and probably stolen RV. The lumpy seats and rust on the door handles didn't help, either. Though despite how unmanaged the vehicle felt, the scrawny man beside you made it feel like home. 

You, on the other hand, were restless beyond control. Sitting in the green room and waiting for the night to end seemed easy enough, but god if it wasn't the single most uneventful 'job' you could have. Rick always reminded you that you were his good luck charm, and that he enjoyed having you around, but you only got to see him briefly in between breaks. 

You'd stashed some coloring books in your backpack to ease the pang of boredom, knowing that you'd probably slip into headspace if left alone. With all the noise backstage, it was hard to calm down, even with your noise-cancelling headphones. And as always, with your luck, you found yourself pulling out your gear right as the gang barrelled through the door. 

Now, Rick knew of your little side and seemed to approve in some sense of the word, but after a night of performances, it wasn't something you felt comfortable bothering him with. It was easy to unintentionally get on Rick's bad side when he was exhausted; you just didn't want your little self to be too much on him, especially not right now. 

"B-uugh-babe, what are you- why the hell are you staring at me like that?" 

With a few harsh blinks, you realized you'd indeed been looking at Rick this whole time. 

Crap.

"Uh, I don't know, I'm just.. tired. Really tired. Yeah."Very smooth, you scolded yourself, before he had a chance to respond. 

As expected, he cocked half of his unibrow in disbelief, but seemingly shrugged off the urge to press further. 

"Yeah sure, whatever. You're lucky I'm tired. Just- just come here, yeah?" 

Rick lifted his thin arm for you, and without hesitation you slid beside him. It felt nice to let gravity go and feel his warmth next to you. You felt his hand rub your shoulder, the spiked bracelet he donned for shows poking against the fabric of your band tee. 

Rick made you think a lot whenever he was around. Not necessarily in a bad way, just a curiosity that made you wonder about the world in a way you usually didn't. Maybe that's why you found yourself leaning towards your regression more when he was around; he was a smart guy, and in any case, who wouldn't become tiny at the thought of aliens and spaceships and adventures? 

"Uh.. Rick?" You peeped, trying to disguise your big voice's faltering. 

He made a short noise in response. 

"Can's you..," you sighed, trying again, "can you talk about the planets you've been to?" You pouted at your growing inability to stay big. 

Rick chuckled to himself. 

"Well, uh, I remember that one time we played at Buttworld  – they go-ughh-gotta whole lotta butts there." 

True to your little nature, the word "butt" sent you into a fit of giggles. 

"I knew that'd get you," Rick smirked. "Y'know, you really don't have to hide that sh..shtuff around me. I mean, really, do you know how much I've seen in space?" 

Maybe you didn't have to worry about being a bother around Rick, after all.

[crowcaws]

It's difficult to put into words exactly how I feel because there are some aspects I adore with my whole heart, and others that really don't sit well with me. Thoughts on PJO with spoilers are below the cut, with both positive and negative thoughts. Tl;dr I think the show is fine. Just fine.

The cast of this show is out of this world better than we could have ever hoped for, they really brought their A game and gave a phenomenal performance. I'm genuinely devastated we will never get to see more of Lance's Zeus because he felt born for that role. His quiet power, the danger in his stare that could turn in an INSTANT absolutely fucking ruled. Whoever takes over has big shoes to fill already and he was only in one scene!

The choice to really flesh out Sally as a more important part of the story and Percy's life was so, so special to me. I think this is the one aspect where the show shines above the book. Sally in the books makes a lot of tough choices for Percy's benefit, but we get to see that out of Percy's head and in Sally's for a bit.

Edit: I FORGOT POSEIDON!!! I liked the change with the deadline forcing Poseidon to take an active role and make a choice to protect Percy. I loved the Nereid sent to help Percy. Poseidon is far less passive in the series and I love that so, so much. In the same way we see why Sally would tempt a god, we also see why Percy is worthy of a God like Poseidon putting himself on the line.

But (and I know this will ruffle feathers because Uncle Rick was involved heavily so please understand I love him too, but our heroes are not infallible) think some of the writing choices were questionable. I understand they set out to tell a unique story from the books and I don't mind some of the changes. But my main issues were:

They really toned down Gabe. I don't know why or what the reasoning was, but it kind of feels like they thought "a strong woman like Sally wouldn't put up with abuse" was the way to go, which in itself doesn't sit well with me. But then you end up with her sticking with this kind of shitty husband, and I don't think they ever explained why! So if there is no emotional manipulation and there is no practical reason given, to someone who hasn't read the books it's like.... Sally Jackson went from Poseidon to THIS and stuck around? As far as I can tell Sally is the breadwinner too so what reason does she have, to someone who doesn't know about the smelly thing, for her to be here?????

Also I know that people will say "he figured out Kronos from clues, he figured out Luke from clues, and Hermes *probably* told him about Crusty" but I really think the show doesn't show its working enough. If enough people had the reaction that Percy was figuring out things a little too easily, EVEN IF it can be explained away, there's probably merit in the idea that they were kind of handing things to him to move the plot along. There was a lot of showing without telling happening.

It also felt a little like some of those reveals, particularly Kronos, could and should have gone to Annabeth instead. They sort of piled a lot of character strengths onto Percy and didn't give her as much of a chance to shine where it mattered, beyond a few shallow jokes about her being quicker than Percy. They also didn't really touch on the gravitasse of Luke's betrayal in regards to her feelings!? We got one line. The story is out of Percy's head now, we should have gotten that! It's so important to her character. I feel like the teeth of Annabeth's trauma have been blunted a little bit here in comparison to the books, where you get a better sense of why she acts the way she does. The rivalry with Athena and Poseidon is barely mentioned at all!

Basically, despite the show leaving Percy's inner monologue, I don't feel we gained enough perspective from other characters in return.

Finally, the set choices leave a lot to be desired where it counts. I hate volume stages PASSIONATELY, I always have, and did anyone else notice that it feels like no character in the entire show sees a ray of sunshine or hard light? It's all soft, evenly lit in a greyish scene that makes even Olympus feel really, really flat. The Mandalorian suffered the same volume stage look, I hated it then and I really wish they'd stop or learn to light them or saturate them better.

Basically I did enjoy watching but I also don't feel the thrill of a piece of art from it. Some scene have that magic, but others just feel like they're trying to get from point A to point B. I have said it before but Lockwood and Co isna much better example of how to adapt a middle grade book in a way that is both unique from the source material while keeping the spirit alive and delivering a perfectly fleshed out product. I hate to say it because again, I adore Rick, but I'm not sure that his talents as an author translate into the strongest screenplays.

And I would finally remind everyone that the show being made does not mean the books no longer exist, you can read them! Right now! Nothing is ruined by a less than 5 star venture into the screen! And these are just my personal thoughts, the impressions I got. If you don't agree that's fine, but I hope we can keep aggression out of the PJO tag because I've been seeing people come for anyone who dares say anything not positive about the show as if they're personally campaigning to get it cancelled. just take a step back and remember we're allowed to not think it was a perfect end result.

Edit again because I forgot another big issue: WHY WAS THE ARES FIGHT THE FIRST REALLY GOOD FIGHT WE GOT??? I really loved it, it played EXACTLY how I imagined it in my head (albeit both the guys were browner in my head akshdhshs) but it also dawned on me that it was so much better than everything else we were shown except maybe the Clarisse fight way back in ep 1. In particular the Medusa scene was over far too quickly without enough suspense (dare I say this, the movie actually did the Medusa hunt better for the most part) and the Minotaur was kind of... Idk. Something about it felt a little underwhelming. Th chimera was over in two seconds after a pretty cool shot of it prowling, and the Fury outside Medusa's was so anticlimactic -- why would I want to watch the action from a kitchen window with no music??? In comparison to all the other action, the Ares fight blew it all out of the water. So I both loved that, and didn't like the rest so much.

[immortality-becomes-you]

RUMORS•e. munson

masterlist

chapter 5

Ziggy kept her promise to Eddie and stayed up all night to keep watch. Sometimes she would peer out the window. Sometimes she would step outside to get more fresh air. It took awhile, but she relaxed slightly when she heard Eddie's light snoring. Just as she had for the last nine hours, she stood at the window and watched, but stiffened when she saw a car pull in. She let out the breath she was holding when she caught sight of who was getting out of the car but jumped in alarm when Eddie leapt from his place beneath the tarp and ran towards her place by the window.

"Eddie! It's okay! It's just Dustin!" Ziggy pressed her hands to his chest to stop his movements towards the curtain. He stopped at her touch and let her words sink in, still breathing heavily as he rested his hands on her wrists that were pressed against his chest. Just as he opened his mouth to say something, the door swung open, making them both jump slightly.

"Delivery service!" The group held up bags of groceries. Ziggy let her hands fall from Eddie's torso, pulling them from his grip. He turned to look at her at the loss of contact but moved to grab some of the bags to rifle through.

Soon enough, Eddie took a seat in the boat with everyone gathered around him as he shoveled cereal into his mouth.

"So, we've got some good news and we've got some bad news. How do you prefer it?"

"Bad news first; always."

"Alright, bad news; we tapped into the Hawkins PD dispatch with our Cerebro, and they're definitely looking for you. Also, they're pretty convinced you killed Chrissy." Eddie and Ziggy looked at each other at the aforementioned bad news.

"Like, a hundred percent kind of convinced."

"What's the good news?" Ziggy asked, hoping it would overpower the bad.

"His name hasn't gone public yet." Robin answered Ziggy before turning her attention to Eddie.

"But if we found out about you, it's only a matter of time before others do too and once that gets out it will only be a matter of time before everyone and their shallow minded mother is gonna be gunning for you."

"Hunt the freak, right?" Eddie stared at the ground.

"Exactly."

"So, before that happens, we need to find Vecna, kill him, and prove your innocence!" Dustin reassured. Eddie looked up at him incredulously.

"That's all, Dustin? Thats all?"

"Yeah, no, that's pretty much it." The boy shrugged.

"Listen, Eddie, I know that everything Dustin is saying sounds totally delusional, but we've actually been through this kind of thing before." Robin waved her hand around as she spoke. Ziggy took a step closer in confusion.

"You've dealt with Dungeons and Dragons warlocks?" Her voice was laced with genuine disbelief. Robin tilted her head to the side.

"Not exactly? Well, they have a few times and I have once. Mine was more human-flesh based and theirs was more smoke related, but the bottom line is; collectively, I really feel like we've got this." Ziggy dropped her head. Eddie's eyes flickered from one person to another, hoping for more reassurance.

"Yeah, we usually rely on this girl who has superpowers, but those went bye-bye, so uh-"

"So we're technically in more of the-

"It's kinda-"

"Brainstorming! It's the brainstorming phase."

"There's nothing to worry about!" They all stumbled over each other, trying to find the right words to ease his mind. The look that Eddie sent them proved that he wasn't fully convinced, but the sound of approaching sirens didn't give him the chance to comment on it. Ziggy grabbed the cereal from his hands and nudged him to lay down as she covered him with the tarp. Everyone rushed to the windows and watched as the police cruisers drove right by Reefer Ricks house.

December, 1984

Ziggy rushed through the hall; her ponytail swinging from side to side as her head whipped from from left to right. As she entered the lunchroom, her eyes finally landed on what she had been looking for, or rather who.

Eddie glared at Jared when he swatted his arm, but the glare fell when he turned to see what he was pointing at. Ziggy had slowed her pace, but was still walking faster than normal as she headed towards his table. She was trying not to run, but when Eddie smiled over at her she couldn't contain herself and shuffled her feet in a little skipping motion. Eddie flinched as she got knocked into my a sophomore from the baseball team, muttering an apology before turning back to the table of boys.

"Eddie!" She squealed, doing a small jump before very slowly sitting in the seat next to him, smiling at his friends she had met a few weeks ago at their show.

"Boys." She acknowledged with a small nod in their direction. Eddie scoffed at her excitement.

"What's got you all excited?" He questioned. Ziggy's chest tightened, nearly letting out another squeal. She took a deep breath, placing her books down on the table with a bright smile.

"I have officially completed all of my community service hours for the year!" She clutched her hands to her chest and all of the boys but Eddie congratulated her. His grin fell. No more community service hours meant no more Eddie hours.

"That's-that's great! Wow." He spat out with a fake smile. Ziggy eyed him for a moment, assessing his demeanor. Her hands dropped to her lap with a pout.

"What's wrong?" Eddie shrugged, unsure of what to say.

"No more community service. I mean, that's big. Now your weeknights will be free." He played with the nuts he had dropped on the table. Ziggy tilted her head and leaned in a little bit closer. Her concentration didn't falter when the class bell rang, signaling the end of lunch. Eddie rose from his seat along with the rest of his band mates. Ziggy followed after Eddie and grabbed him by his elbow to halt his stride.

"Eddie! I didn't mean it like that." She chuckled at his unsure gaze. He looked down at her in apprehension.

"The end of my community service hours doesn't mean the end of..." she trailed off, not knowing what to call it. Eddie sucked in a deep breath.

"Oh!" He nodded his head. Shock coated his features for a moment before he broke out into a smile that matched hers.

"Speaking of, I told my mom that your uncle works late and she wanted me to invite you over for dinner on Christmas Eve." Her hand went back to pulling her books to her chest as she nervously shifted her shoulders. Eddie tilted his head and took a teasing step forward.

"Oh, she wanted to invite me, did she?"

"You caught me. It was Adrian." She teased back. Eddie laughed as he looked around the room. He smiled back down at her.

"So?"

"So...?"

"Are you gonna come?" Eddie poked his cheek with his tongue, pondering the idea for a moment.

"Yeah, why not?" Ziggy scrunched her nose as she laughed. She gasped in realization.

"Don't forget to dress nice!" Eddie's smile dropped. Ziggy walked past him, heading to her next class.

"'Dress nice'? What do you mean by 'nice'?" He called out.

"I mean I don't wanna see you walking into my house in a band t-shirt. I dressed up for you, so now you've gotta dress up for me. I've been a good girl, Eddie. I expect a treat." She mocked his previous plea for her to attend his show.

When Christmas Eve arrived, Eddie found himself struggling to find a shirt that would fit into Ziggy's definition of 'nice'. Ultimately, he decided on his uncle's black, short sleeved button down. He refused to wear anything other than jeans, but opted for a pair that wasn't ripped.

The first thing he had noticed when Mrs. Zigova let him into her house was the decorations. Eddie and Wayne weren't big on festivities, so it was rare to see a house with so much life and color. Next, he noticed Ziggy standing next to the staircase. She brought a whole new meaning to the word 'nice'. Her hair was down again. Every time she blinked he could see her lashes bump into her bangs, making them flicker. Her dress was some kind of red satin. It ruffled around her biceps and hung down to her ankles. The neckline went down in a V and held a pretty black bow. The big bundle of wrapping paper in his hands grew heavy as she greeted him.

"Merry Christmas Eve." Ziggy greeted. Her eyes fluttered over Eddie's outfit. The top few buttons on his shirt were left undone. If you looked close enough, you could see a few skinny lines from his tattoo peeking out of the collar.

"Merry Christmas Eve, m'lady." He tilted his head down with a tiny bow. Ziggy's eyes struggled to stay locked onto his and not shift down to the gift he was holding. Eddie had no problem keeping his eyes on hers.

Ziggy lead him around the house, introducing him to her father and allowing him to greet her brother in the process. Once their tour had finished, she pulled him up to her bedroom so that they could hang out privately until dinner was done. Obviously, Eddie had been in her room before, but he felt too rushed to truly appreciate it. The walls were covered in a pink and orange floral paper, preventing any corner from being dull. Various bottles of perfume were lined up in an orderly fashion on her dresser next to the framed academic achievement. Her bed was covered with a thick, white quilt while her pillows sat delicately at the headboard. Eddie moved to her window and softly touched the lace curtains before turning around in search of Ziggy. She had sat down on the edge of the bed with her feet swinging back and forth as she waited for him to join her. Eddie looked down at the hem of her dress. There was a small patch of skin in between the red fabric and her white, frilly socks. He chuckled at her childlike stare and sat down next to her, making the mattress bounce beneath his weight. They sat in a comfortable silence. The only sound was coming from her radio that sat on her nightstand, playing a Christmas station.

"So, what now?" Eddie awkwardly laughed, clutching her gift in his hands as he leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. Ziggy was snapped out of her daze, her face lighting up with excitement.

"Actually, I got you something!" She held a finger up, signaling for him to wait a moment as she rose from the bed. He watched her with a smile as she walked around the bed to her closet, standing on her tiptoes to reach for the box on the very top shelf. She hadn't heard him stand from the bed, but fell back to the heels of her feet when she felt Eddie press his hand to the small of her back. She looked up at him over her shoulder. He nudged her stomach with his gift, silently urging her to hold onto it for him.

"Which one?" He asked, looking up at the collection of beautifully wrapped gifts. He looked down at her expectantly while she stared up at him with a doe eyed look. She delicately pointed to the desired box on the tip of her toes once again, bumping into him slightly when she fell back down and he reached for the box with the hand that wasn't on her back. When he had successfully retrieved the box, she turned to face him and tried to hand him the poorly wrapped gift he had her hold onto. His hand fell from her back and pushed the gift back to her grasp.

"No need to give it to me; it's yours." He smiled. Ziggy's eyes lit up in curiosity.

"For me?"

"For you." He confirmed. She held it tightly to her stomach with a grateful smile.

"Open yours first." She pointed down to the small box in his hands. He raised his eyebrows and shook it in his hands. Ziggy snickered and grabbed him by the wrists, making him stop as he laughed. He almost felt bad opening it. It was a little bigger than his hand. There wasn't even a wrinkle in the wrapping paper and the bow was wrapped perfectly around the top. He eagerly pulled on the ribbon and tossed it on the bed. He looked up at Ziggy from beneath his brows and grinned at her eager expression. He finally tore the paper and opened the box. The D&D dice were evenly spaced out over the tissue paper she had crumpled to keep them from moving around. In the top left corner of the box there was a black and red guitar pick that seemingly matched his beloved guitar perfectly. Ziggy's finger played with her earring as her arms held her gift from Eddie to her chest in anticipation. Her shoulders relaxed at his belated smile.

"These are great, Zig!" He laughed, his dimples digging into his cheeks. Ziggy dropped her hand as he pulled the pick out and twisted it around in his fingers.

"You like 'em?"

"Like 'em? I love 'em!" He tossed the dice in his hands as if he were about to roll them out onto the table. Still smiling, he placed them back in the box and set it on the bed. He looked down at her and crossed his arms.

"Okay, your turn." He demanded. Ziggy had completely forgotten about the heavy present in her arms. The green wrapping paper had already ripped a little bit in a few places, but not enough to show what was inside. She pulled it from her chest, her dress peeling off of the exposed tape that had been haphazardly stuck to the gift. Ziggy's freshly painted red nails tore at the paper to reveal a small, leather jacket that Eddie obviously had just folded and wrapped the paper around as if it were an envelope.

"It used to be mine, but I grew out of it. I figured, if you're gonna keep going to our shows, you might as well have something to wear. It's not much-"

"No, it's perfect!" She held the jacket up with a smile and assessed its condition before holding it with one hand and pulling him in for a hug with the other. Eddie wrapped his arms around her back, mumbling a gruff 'Merry Christmas' which Ziggy returned.

"Speaking of Christmas, what the hell are we listening to?" He pulled his hands from her back to push her softly by her waist. Ziggy moved her hand down to his elbow, looking over to her radio with a frown.

"'Last Christmas'? It's by WHAM!." Eddie curled his lip at the cheerful holiday synth. Ziggy trotted over to her nightstand and turned the knob to the right, raising the volume. Eddie threw his head back.

"Oh, this doesn't even compare to The Hideout." She mocked. Eddie tilted his head with squinted eyes, glaring at her as she started to sway to the music.

"What's gotten into you? You're like a sugarplum fairy or some shit."

"Christmas makes me crazy." She grabbed Eddie's hands, trying to get him to dance despite his scowl. She stopped abruptly when he didn't join her swaying.

"You literally tore my tights and made me headbang for two hours. I don't think a little George Michael will kill you." She looked up at him with a deadpan expression. Eddie dramatically rolled his eyes before pulling one of her hands with his into the air, letting her spin under them with a smile. When she was finished, she held their intertwined hands to the side and rested her other one on his shoulder, encouraging him to place his back on her waist. He stood still while she swayed from side to side. He watched her happy face trail down to his chest. His small smirk stayed as his eyebrows pulled together slightly.

"What?" Ziggy looked back up at him frightfully, having been caught. She looked back down at his slightly exposed chest.

"What's that?" She softly asked, just barely audible over the music. Eddie looked down at his shirt in confusion.

"What's what?" He asked. Ziggy softly let her hand drift down from his shoulder to his chest. She pulled the collar to the side gently, exposing the ink on his skin. Eddie's brows softened.

"Oh, that. That's a tattoo." Her swaying slowed to a halt. The collar of his shirt was carefully held between her middle and ring finger as the side of her hand rested on his chest.

"Is it real?" He let out an airy laugh. Ziggy finally looked up at him again.

"Well, yeah."

"Seriously?"

"Yeah, you can check." Ziggy looked back down at the black widow in wonder. She pulled her hand from his chest and licked her thumb. Her dry fingers pushed beneath his shirt, pulling it to the side to rub her wet thumb over the painted skin just beneath his collarbone. Eddie's smile faltered beneath his glassy eyes. Ziggy's head tilted when the ink stayed in place, not smudging at all. He squeezed her hip, bringing her attention back to his face. His eyes flickered down to her lips, coated in a barely noticeable pink gloss. He silently cleared his throat.

"That's so cool. I've never met someone with a tattoo." Her voice was soft, but not in an insecure way. Eddie felt prideful. He was never really called 'cool'. He certainly wasn't called cool by girls, let alone a girl like Ziggy. Then again, Eddie didn't think there were girls like Ziggy.

"I've got more." He choked out, wanting to continue to impress her. Her eyes heaved with parted lips.

"Can I see?" She excitedly asked. Eddie didn't give a verbal answer, he simply dropped her hand from his and pulled at his shirt. The hand that was resting on her hip moved to rest over hers that was still pressed against his chest. She watched his free hand twist at the buttons on his shirt, releasing two of them. The hand over hers moved it farther down his chest, pulling his shirt open more to show her the demon head below the spider. Ziggy's cheeks heated up. Eddies eyes never flickered away from her face, watching her swallow with a heaving chest. His hand squeezed hers, tightening her grip on his shirt. Her eyes slowly tracked their way up from the demon head to the spider, then his collarbone and Adam's apple to his mouth, finally settling on his big brown eyes.

Adrian's fist pounded on Ziggy's bedroom door.

"Dinner!"

[i-will-cry-you-a-river]

Married. He was now married.

Looking down on his hand, the strange, unfamiliar feeling of his ring wasn't just his imagination. He really did get married.

To his grandfather.

-

"R-r-r-rick?! Wha-what are t-t-they talking a-about?!" He asked nervously, yanking his head from the humanoid aliens to Rick. He didn't understand a thing, only that they were anxious, fearful even, that made their weird gestures seem frantic and aggressive.

Rick answered something in the same language, burping into the face of the alien's spokesman. The humanoid face showed absolute disgust, and Morty had to admit; the foul smell of alcohol was an acquired taste. As in, you had to spend years smelling it until it turned into one of the safest, homiest smell in the universe.

"R-rick, w-w-what's happening?" Repeated his question, as the ring of aliens started to close around them.

"N-not now- ugh- i-idiot!" Came the harsh reply that was in contrast with the protective way he pulled Morty closer to his body. The young boy had to close his eyes for a moment; being this close to Rick was always a treat, but it always made him unnecessarily dizzy.

The spokesman said something, pointing at the back of his hand. Rick harshly shook his head, but the being continued to poke the back of his hand.

No. Not that, Morty realized with a sinking feeling in his stomach.

His finger. The ring on his ring finger, to be precise.

He could feel Rick's body tensing, ready to shoot anybody who dared to get closer.

"Wha-what d-d-d-do t-t-they w-want?" His stutter became more pronounced as their argument became more and more heated.

"S-shut-" a burp, "u-up!"

The alien pointed at him, and Morty froze like prey in the vicinity of a predator. The alien stepped closer, and that was the last drop for Rick.

Morty could hear as the gun powered up but before his grandfather could shoot, suddenly those humanoid figures didn't seem so humanoid anymore. A sharp spike grew out of the leader's hand, swooshing against the tender, vulnerable flesh of Morty's neck. Involuntary swallowed at the pressure, that made the spike press against his throat even more. A drop of blood dripped out.

"R-rick," Morty breathed, doe-like eyes trembling with unshed tears. His grampa growled, shouted, cursed and threatened, but the spike didn't move.

"D-d-do w-what t-t-they w-want," Morty trembled.

"F-fuck that! T-these piece of s-shits w-want us to-!" Rick yelled, but didn't move from his place, didn't do anything else. If Morty had enough capacity, he could have felt honored that Rick didn't just shoot them anyways, leaving him to die. He could have found another Morty. But Rick didn't risk it. Unlike him, he stayed.

"M-marriage," Morty whispered, dread in his stomach, and that awful hopefulness he tended to just squish it very deep.

"We dropped in a f-fucking r-religious site for these fuckers! App-burp-apparently, n-no un-unmarried can leave this site," Rick ranted, finally giving Morty enough information to know what was happening. They really did want them to get married.

Based on the previous pointing - to each other.

[sameensass]

tagged by @lottieurl thankss

rules: share some unpopular opinions about 5 different fandoms of your choosing

Gonna tag @kalikojo @myhumbleme @wonderdanvers @the-lazy-traveller @fouralarm-fire @mayhemxtwins @marlokelly

1. She-Ra

I didn't like season 5 as much as everyone else seems to. I know that it was the last season they got and they had to wrap up relatively quickly, but Catra's redemption felt rushed in places, especially after seeing her "regression" arc develop over four seasons vs the one season of redemption. I think she got forgiven by others a bit too easily (mainly Scorpia she deserved so much better and Catra treated her horribly and took advantage of her for years and suddenly all is forgiven and hugs all around). There was clearly a plan on how the redemption would unfold and i think it could have worked if we got more episodes or one more season, but they just didn't have enough episodes to pace it more organically i think. They did well with the episodes they were given though, but as a whole it was unsatisfying for me. Also I watched it right after rewatching atla so after seeing how fleshed out Zuko's redemption arc was (who we saw redeem himself outside of the main group, apologizing to his uncle, and then the one on one forgiveness episodes to develop individual relationships with each main character) it was underwhelming

2. Legends of Tomorrow

I just don't really care about avalance. Lowkey stopped watching for a while because I got tired of them. They had their moments and they grew on me eventually but overall their relationship didn't really interest me

3. Warrior nun

Lots of people think the bar scene is when ava realized her feelings for beatrice but i think she realized her feelings sometime between s1 and s2 (she HAD feelings in s1 but didnt realize it til later)

Also as much as i love avatrice i really hope we get to see ava and beatrice's relationships with OTHER characters develop. i want to see more ava and camila friendship, i want to see beatrice and lilith (they grew up together!! i wanna see this!! and now suddenly they were on opposite sides of a fight after being allies and now are they going to rebuild that trust?), I wanna see more ava and lilith (both of them had the responsibilities of being/becoming the warrior nun both of them had all that pressure i wanna see them bond about it i want their begrudging friendship); I WANT TO SEE MARY AND LILITH INTERACTING WITH EACH OTHER

4. Heroes of Olympus

sorry but will and nico felt forced in the way that leo and calypso felt forced: seems like rick just took a random background character just for the sake of pairing up a main character :// at least its more interesting in terms of the juxtaposition of the brooding son of death vs the optimistic and bright son of the sun. honestly tho overall most of the non-percabeth ships i dont have strong feelings about because rick just....didnt build them up as much, i didnt really feel the /build up/ of any romantic feelings for any other couple, despite heroes of olympus also being 5 books (probably due to the fact that there were too many main characters rick had to create and develop alongside the plot and there wasnt room to do both well). Lowkey i think it would have been better that if he were to make nico and will mains in trials of apollo, he could have had them officially meet and get to know each other as friends/allies and then develop romantic feelings throughout those 5 books. As it is and how i felt after BoO, it seems like at the end of BoO, nico returns to CHB and gets a crush on the first cute guy he sees and then that just automatically means he gets to date him (HOWEVER i havent read toa yet and mb ill like them more in that and i do want to read tsats....cant say id say the same for a stand alone leo x calypso book)

5. Class of '07/Parks and Rec

This is more of a gripe with the trope in a lot of sitcoms of the (usually) fat nerdy/oblivious soft-spoken character being constantly brushed aside and dismissed. Eg Laura (ie forgettable Laura, whose whole nickname is about how everyone ignores her, she's constantly interrupted when she tries to actually be helpful to the group etc) and Garry/Jerry (constantly belittled, getting misnamed even on his tombstone). Overall not a fan of having a character whose sole purpose is to be mocked constantly

[krombopulos-mercenary]

The true horror of the situation didn't dawn upon Micheal at first, Kenneth's initial report vague enough that the killer just thought they were dealing with an unknown number of venom maddened Beserker Drones. Still a terrible situation to be sure, but then....

“REEEEEEEE! REEEEEEE!”

As the first horrid screeches finally reached Mike's ears, he'd find that reality somehow managed to be so much worse than just blood lust crazed soldiers. A situation right out of his - and Rick's! - worst nightmares was unfolding around him.

....Why was his life always like this?

"I know that noise!"

He would gasp as they ran, the defector switching up to a more shallow rapid breathing rhythm so he could keep up to pace with Ken more easily. The awful noises from the unknown encroaching threat were shriller, tinier, and far more numerous than the horrendous bellowing that Mike had heard before. In the belly of that terrible prison. But he would recognize the noise anywhere- he could feel what it was down to his very venom poisoned bones.

Each new scene of bloody horror just confirmed it for Micheal, streaks of black-purple becoming more evident amongst green insectizoid gore the further they went on. Even Ken's focus on getting just the pair of them out of the madness, when in other circumstances he'd for sure be trying to save the various soldiers and personnel in peril they passed by, was just another nail in the proverbial coffin.

All the same, when they rounded the last corner the scene they saw was a horrid surprise for Mike. He squeezed Ken's hand as they began to back up, the grip on his knife finally switching over to a defensive grip. The angle causing the diamond blade to catch the flickering light and shine brightly in the darkness.

All Micheal could do was quietly wheeze as his suspicions were confirmed in the worse way. Multiple tiny copies of the void creature that was chasing them down cracked and ripped their way out of their latest kill, the large drone hardly more than shredded gore as the little swarm set their sights on the newcomers. Even through the bloodthirsty haze of Beserker state, Mike felt the fear and uncertainty shoot down his spine ten fold, his teeth gritting hard as he forced the rising panic down.

How the fuck was this possible?! Were these a result of the "infection" Kenneth had spoken about? Where these lizardperson's offspring?!? These questions and more rattled about in Micheal's mind and he quickly shoved them to the back of his thoughts so he could focus. Not dying came first, he could ask questions later.

"Save the chivalry for another time and ready your knife. Just keep your back to mine and stay together! Their flesh is weak to pure things, materials, emotions, anything!"

Micheal wheezes out amongst the increasing noise of the void creature horde winding itself up into ravenous frenzy. He grabs that stupid arm that Kenneth threw in front of him and uses it pull the other around so that they were standing with shoulders touching and facing the creatures at a diagonal while they remained in front of them. A stance that could easily turn to a true back to back move when their enemies came upon them.

"Don't let them get under your armor."

He mutters, his arm twitching in anticipation. The bandages on his shoulder a dirty and torn mess, revealing his still raw bite wound to open air.

=====

SHHK!

BANG!

The little void creature would fall to the blood splattered floor of the elevator like some horrid, broken marionette. Limp body flinging off somewhere while the head clunked grotesquely not too far away from where Amy stood suddenly stock still, her eyes widening in pained shock as her claw kept a white knuckled grip on the knife.

"....y-your finger is in the belly of that abomination, you imbecile. And I've been shot."

It was all adrenaline, the shock, that allowed for her to speak so clearly and calmly as blood began to ooze it's way out of her shoulder. Staining her white jacket with a streak of horrid green. She brought her other claw up to clutch at the area of the wound, as useless as the gesture was, and kept her fading gaze on Rick. Even as she continued on to address whoever else was still alive in the elevator.

"....d-don't let my brother know which of you fed idiots did that. Y-you're dead."

Right at that moment, the elevator would rumble to a jerky stop and let out a ding. Announcing that they had finally arrived to their floor.

X

[raggedymarshmellow]

Been considering a stranger things S4 canon divergence/ AU where Eddie doesn't run after Chrissy gets vecna'd.

Like, he runs at first. Drives like a bat (heh) out of hell but as he drives, the adrenaline starts to wear off and suddenly, the thought of Wayne being the one to find Chrissy's body makes him sick. Especially considering what Wayne already probably had to deal with, with Eddie's parents.

So instead of going to Reefer Rick's, Eddie turns the other way and goes straight to the police himself. Tells them the truth and of course they don't believe him. All they see is a manic outcast and a dead girl so they lock Eddie up for the time being, then start their shitty investigation.

Wayne still sings Eddie's innocence bc his boy wouldn't hurt a fly, not really.

But since nobody needs to be out looking for Eddie, Nancy ends up being with Fred when he gets vecna'd.

That's what makes the police stop and think (for once). Because perfect, "prissy" Nancy Wheeler couldn't possibly have hurt anyone let alone be capable of murder AND she'd have no reason to lie about what she saw🙄 so maybe Eddie DIDN'T do it.

It's not really a whole fleshed out idea because Jason would probably still jump to the satanic bullshit, but I feel like there would be enough reasonable doubt to stop the town from going mob crazy. Especially when the whole point of the news arc of S2 hinged on "watering it down." Would they really think some kid "not smart enough" to graduate high school would commit murder, turn himself in, and then what? Psychically commit another murder when he's already in jail?? It wouldn't be nearly as believable.

So as the deaths continue while Eddie's being held, the police would have to realise that Eddie couldn't possibly have been out there killing. So they release him. And because he feels guilty for Chrissy, starts to do his own investigating. Maybe Nancy vouches for Eddie bc she recognises that this has to got be upside down adjacent and when she acts like she knows more, he confronts her or smth and that's how he ends up with the fruity four/spicy six again.

Idk. It's just something to think about . But I also kind of hate to speculate that if Eddie hadn't run, he'd still be alive bc it makes me sad 🥺