#i guess I need an all wood pump shotgun now

[vio-starclad]

Henry rifle in to complete the set! The rear sight is canted a bit but I have a scope on the way that I intend to keep on it so not a huge deal.

Very smooth action and handles great; very high quality rifle!

[hqcult]

21ST ## the miya twins

you visit hyogo to celebrate your 21st birthday with your extended family. you met atsumu and osamu, who were oh so excited to meet you.

. tw manipulation, pseudo-incest, noncon, cunnilingus, masturbation, exhibitionism, voyeurism, mindbreak, implied double penetration, dark content . wc 4.3k

looking back, the twins are good fucking actors. they deserve some oscar-level award with how much they smiled those sweet honey smiles and lured you into a sense of security before baring their fangs and pulling you down to hell with them. but they never would’ve gotten the chance to act if you hadn’t been there as their audience. so, the truth remains the same—this is all your fault. you never should’ve insisted coming to hyōgo in the first place.

ever since getting adopted at the tender age of thirteen and moving to tokyo, you’ve seen everything there is to see, ate at every restaurant with a 5-star review on google. you’ve done them all at least thrice by now and it’s getting boring.

so, when your adoptive father had jokingly talked about coming to hyōgo to meet your extended family for your 21st birthday, you perked up in your seat and your eyes twinkled like stars. 

your mom didn’t want to go at first, of course, claiming you’ll get carsick but your parents eventually gave in after seeing the pleading look in your eyes and the genuine excitement in your stance.

long story short, you did end up getting carsick. quite a few times too, actually. but you were already driving along the expressway and your mom’s sister was already expecting the three of you. so, naturally, you guys pushed through, your dad making sure he drove as smoothly as possible in order not to trigger another barfing session from you.

it was twilight by the time your dad pulled up on his sister-in-law’s driveway and the first you see were two identical faces—twins? for step-cousins? well, now that was something. you’ve never really met twins before so it was a whole new experience and it excited you greatly. 

not to mention how you and atsumu instantly hit it off, your personalities aligning. yet when you sat next to osamu during dinner, the younger twin found it wasn’t as hard talking to you compared to his brother. in fact, he found it interesting how easy it was to converse with you, the words flowing out his lips. you were just so painfully compatible with them that why oh why did the universe have to make you their half-cousin?

the shift in their behavior wasn’t at all gradual but can you really blame them? you were such a good daughter, such a beauty. and they guess the whole ‘pseudo-incest’ taboo thing amplified your appeal all the more. 

well, at least in their defense, atsumu and osamu genuinely wanted to get to know their new cousin in the most innocent, platonic way and not this weird thing they’re feeling right now. but you were so damn irresistible that they couldn’t keep their feelings in check.

how kind of ‘samu to grab the coffee container at the topmost shelf for you during breakfast, not knowing he purposely puts it there every night so he can “accidentally” rub his morning wood against your ass.

your ‘tsumtsum is such an angel when he doesn’t hesitate to take off his outerwear and lends it to you whenever you forget yours, not knowing he snatches them from the laundry basket and leaving you no choice but to use his. the sweet scent you leave on the jacket is enough to throw him off the edge and have him climaxing as he fucked his own hand.

nobody noticed, everyone was distracted by their achievements at such a young age. all their mom had to say is how osamu yet again made it to dean’s lister or how atsumu got scouted for a national team.

your mom and dad didn’t notice, lost in the daydream of always wanting to have their own son only to end up with you. blinded of their dazzle that the rotten pieces of them were fully camouflaged by the glow.

it all came to a peak when the twins were pulling all-nighter playing games like always. 

atsumu needed to use the restroom, and just as he’s passing by your door, he heard a questionable sound that made him stop, frozen and unbelieving.

carefully, he tiptoes closer to place his ear against your door, praying to whomever that the floorboards don’t creak and disrupt whatever you’re doing. silence, seconds of it. then click, a switch turning on, he hears low vibration and a shaky whimper, a slick sound that reminded him of—

you were touching yourself.

holy fucking crap.

atsumu can only stare at the door with a knowing curl in his lips as he quickly pushes down his boxers. the risk of getting caught masturbating so out in the open making all the blood rush south.

“guess yer not as innocent as i thought ya were,” he mutters, spitting on his palm before wrapping it around his dick.

he shut his eyes close, clinging desperately into the imagination of how it would feel like to fuck your cunny instead of his hand. how the view would be like as he forces your legs up and into a mating press as he rutted his hips into you. at least you were loud, the moans he can hear as clear as day and he’s thankful he needn’t depend on his imagination anymore like all the other times.

you better be fucking thankful that the rest of the rooms were downstairs or else your parents and their mom would’ve heard by now. eh, atsumu didn’t mind. he got off on the risque idea of getting caught in the act.

when your pitch grows whinier and he hears your quick rufflings on the bed, he knows you’re close. he can hear the frantic and changing levels of the vibrator as you fucked it into your walls. 

“fuck,” he hissed, the mental image of you masturbating and putting on a show for him making him teeter over the edge.

he grunts, low and animalistic, as spurts of his cum stains his hands and the floor. he didn’t care. he pumped himself through his orgasm and it was the best he’s ever got in a while. who knew all he needed to hear was his little step-cousin lewdly touching herself? naughty, naughty girl.

when he heard your panting after cumming against your little toy, he took his cue and speed-walked towards his and osamu’s bedroom to get a cloth he’ll use to clean the front of your door. but just as he caught you in the act, he caught his own brother red-handed, too.

the tiny specks of cum on the wall where osamu stood is a ghastly sight but atsumu couldn’t care less. 

silently, the twins exchanged a knowing glance.

“ya heard ‘er too?”

someone knocks on your bedroom door on the eve of your birthday. 

osamu was tasked to wake you up while atsumu started the car. you didn’t respond. were you… he slowly opens the door, he spots you immediately in the bundle of blankets atop your bed. when he stalks closer, you looked so cozy that osamu almost got tempted to ditch the idiot and come snuggle with you under the blankets instead. 

but he has two heads and the one he’s using to think is located south.

he wakes you up with a gentle shake on the shoulder. “‘samu?” you mutter, voice low and croaky from your deep sleep when you see a blurry tousle of gray hair.

“let’s do a countdown for yer birthday, angel. come on, put on a jacket. ‘tsumu’s already startin’ up the car.”

osamu’s blunt nails dug half-moon crescents into his palms as he saw your tiny pajama shorts and the slip top when you shoved the blankets away. he swore his palms would’ve bled, especially after seeing you bending over to look for a hoodie inside your luggage. 

he stared so openly, it was almost predatory in a sense. 

as you scamper down the stairs with the younger twin’s hands dangerously grazing the top of your rear, you thought it’s plain old protective ‘samu being worried you’ll make a misstep and break your neck.

“where’s everybody?”

“just us three, angel. ‘lil cousin bonding before yer big party tonight, y’know?”

you giggled. how sweet, you thought.

you didn’t sense a thing. didn’t see a single red flag even if it was being waved across your face like what they do in bullfights. osamu felt a little sorry for how they’re blatantly manipulating you but it’s too late to back out now, much less let the guilt eat up his insides. he shouldn’t be a hypocrite considering he jacked off to your moans, too, that night. 

he’s really no different than atsumu and it’s a tough pill to swallow.

“shotgun!”

it wasn’t osamu that stops you, but atsumu, from scampering into the front seat. the older twin quickly locks the door before lowering down the passenger side’s window. 

“nuh-uh, birthday girl. ya can’t sit here or the surprise’ll be ruined!”

you grumble, frowning as you scoot yourself in the backseat of the car. atsumu twists his torso towards the back, asking you to wear the blindfold he’s handing you. it was a little tough with how stubborn you are but ‘tsumu’s just too good with his words.

you drove for thirty minutes before the car pulled up somewhere. the world is tranquil outside, so you couldn’t have driven to the nearest city. your initial guess is a beach, but there were no splashes of water. maybe a cliff-side or a forest?

the car’s ignition turns off and you call out to the twins. 

“‘tsumu? ‘samu? where are we? can i take my blindfold off now?”

“just a moment, doll.” there’s an excited lilt to atsumu’s voice and you can’t help but fidget in your seat, feeling the excitement crawling up your spine as you think of what their surprise could be.

you hear them clamber out the car. you scoot closer to the door just as the backseat opens, a silly smile on your face. “you guys didn’t have to do this, you know, but i appreciate it so mu—”

someone tackles you to the seat and the air gets knocked out of your lungs. he’s heavy and you felt the muscles underneath his shirt as you tried to push him away but to no avail—you know it’s a man, it has to be because you felt the broad shoulders and something poking at your thigh. you feel him nosing the side of your neck and his hands crawling under your shirt. his freezing skin against your own is what snapped you out of it.

“atsumu! osamu!” you cried, calling for help.

you inwardly gasped, realizing something. maybe they were hurt! maybe your assaulter had creeped up behind the twins just as they opened the door for you, knocked them out cold, before trying to have their way with you. at the thought of the twins getting hurt, you thrashed, fought, and screamed with newfound fervor.

“couldja calm down and shut yer fucking trap?”

when the blindfold flies away and you see the man straddling you on the backseat of atsumu’s car, how you wished your assaulter had never taken it off.

atsumu had never looked this scary from your point of view, then again he never straddled you like this in the weeks prior. never looked at you like how he’s looking now—there’s clear hunger and lust in those eyes. you’ve seen that look one too many times from boys back in your university when you had your one night stands. but it had all been consensual and you loved them looking at you that way but this is different.

so, so different.

you can’t look at him in the eye, not when he’s staring at you like that. it felt like you’re pushed into a corner, vulnerable and bare even with the clothes you’re wearing.

“please, get off of me.”

“get off ya?” he repeats, mirth in his eyes as he hauls you up to a sitting position. he finally shuts the door behind him. “but i’ve been wantin’ to do this for weeks.”

to further emphasize his point, he grounds his hips against yours, making sure the tip of his already erect cock grazes against the bud of your clit. his boxers and the thin fabric of your shorts isn’t helping. he groans wantonly, angling his hips to do it again until you slipped out from under him and maneuvered your way to the other door.

osamu! osamu will stop him, you thought with teary eyes as atsumu growls and quickly pulls you back by the forearms, your back to his chest as you try to claw your way out of the athlete’s grip.

“‘samu! ‘samu, help me!”

but when the said twin opens the door and slips inside the car with little to no surprise present in his face, a type of fear you’ve never felt before runs up your spine. the look in osamu’s eyes reflected that of his twin’s and with sinking realization, you knew he wasn’t there to help you.

“happy 21st birthday, angel.”

and then he’s ducking down to kiss you. his lips are soft and they moved tenderly, in contrast to the barbaric way they tore at your clothes, the cold making you shiver in your underwear.

dealing with one sick person is enough, but with two, you’re not so sure. you only had two hands, if you pushed osamu away, atsumu would have free access and vice versa. your legs couldn’t move either, thanks to the cramped space of the backseat.

while holding down your hands, atsumu marks every inch of untainted skin he could see as osamu swirls his tongue inside your mouth. you’ve never felt so disgusted and dirty, but above all, betrayed. even if it was a few weeks since you’ve met, you still saw them as family. sure, you weren’t technically blood-related but in the papers it’s a different story.

when osamu pulled away, you averted your eyes but his hand reached up to hold your chin, forcing your eyes to meet. you feel his other hand trailing up your thighs, fingers dangerously close to your clothed sex as he watched you like a fox. he wanted to commit this moment to memory. every twitch and small gasp you make as his cold fingers pinched at your clit and traced your pussy lips.

“staying quiet, princess?” atsumu comments, hands snaking around front to squeeze and grope your breasts over the bra you wore. “ya weren’t like this when i caught ya touchin’ yerself last week.”

your eyes widened. when you tried turning your head to look over your shoulder towards the other twin, osamu shoved two fingers inside you.

your reaction was immediate. the pleasure and pain mixing as a loud gasp escapes your lips. “eyes up front,” he murmurs, the firm hold on your chin going higher to encase your whole jaw.

“oi, ‘samu, didn’t think you’re the possessive type,” atsumu says, teasingly placing his chin on your shoulder as he smiles that lazy smile you know osamu hates. “not that i’m going to lose.”

the older twin slips your bra off just as osamu takes his fingers out to lewdly lick up your slick. he moans, keeping his eyes trained on your horrified face. “sweet. but not wet enough for us, angel.”

“what—no—!”

“let me have a go.”

before you could even react, atsumu’s spinning you around to face him as he shoves your shoulders down. due to the cramped space, your head collides with osamu’s thighs, narrowly missing the tent in his joggers. the weight in his thighs makes the younger twin fidget and squirm as he hastily reaches for your hand, pulling his bottoms down just enough for his cock to spring out. you wince when it hits the side of your face. osamu loved the disgust in your face when he spat at your hand and used it to get himself off as he started stroking his cock.

meanwhile, in one swift motion, atsumu is pulling your panties down and licking a stripe up your cunny, the tip of his tongue prodding at your clit as his hands come up to slap your pussy. “how dare ya be so quiet,” he hisses, sucking harsher on your clit to pull a reaction out of you. “let me hear ya whine and moan, babe. i’m fuckin’ sure as hell my tongue is better than some cheap ass vibrator ya used.”

but your lips are stubbornly sealed as you arched your back. like hell you’d play into their wants and sick fantasies. they were your cousins! forcing you to enjoy this is just downright wrong. and knowing they’ve eavesdropped and silently lusted over you while having those innocent little smiles on their faces… were they not in the least bit guilty for deceiving you? deceiving your parents?

“give ‘er somethin’ bigger. i think she’s askin’ for it.” osamu says, kneading one of your breasts and tweaking your nipples as he continued to pump himself using your hand. 

because he lost to rock paper scissors, he’s going to fuck you after atsumu and no matter how furious he was, a deal’s a deal.

like an idea switching inside his head, atsumu falters, staring right at you with sparkles in his eyes before his lips curled into a devious smirk.

“no, no, no,” you scramble, trying to sit up in order to push him away but osamu is quick to pin you down. “atsumu—no—you don’t want to do this, please—!”

“shut it, princess. i know what i want and that’s to fuck yer sweet little cunny right ‘ere,” he mocks by planting a sweet kiss against your lower lips.

“can ya stop with the dirty talk my dick’ll go soft, ya scrub!” osamu hisses, his hands wrapped around yours getting tighter as the lewd sounds of his slick gets louder. 

no matter how much osamu denies it, he’s getting off on seeing you squirming under atsumu and god he never thought to have a voyeurism kink but here we are.

atsumu shoves his boxers down and you turn away from glancing down at his cock, osamu had to ruthlessly pull your hair and make you look as you slowly start tearing up. he was bigger than most guys you’ve met in college and you dread the painful stretch it’ll take for him to shove that dick inside you.

“shh, princess. don’tcha worry, yer all prepped to take me.” he scissors your pussy lips, the sticky wetness creating lewd sounds before pushing his stained fingers into your mouth. “hear that? go on and taste yerself.”

he gave you no choice, fingers pushing your tongue down until you obliged to his wishes. from behind you, you hear a low grunt and a pant as osamu throws his head back. he was close, you could tell and you surely didn’t want your face to be near his cock once he cums.

“‘tsumu, god damn it! hurry and fuck ‘er already!”

osamu was close and his mind was clouded. he needed to see you get railed in order for him to teeter towards that delicious edge of pure ecstasy. needed to hear the noises like the ones you made that night.

“i got it, i got it. fuckin’ impatient bastard.”

“atsumu, stop—!”

but he doesn't bother to listen, pushing his cock deep all in a single thrust. you were right. the stretch slightly stings and you bet it would’ve hurt more had he not bothered to suck and lick at your pussy earlier. “it hurts,” you sob, trying to curl in on yourself while keeping atsumu from leaning in.

but your strength is no match for him as he peppers light kisses down your neck, osamu helping with pushing your hair away to expose more skin. “shh, shh,” the faux-blond coos. “it’ll get better, i promise ya. yer gonna love it so let me move, okay?”

“no, wait, take it out, wai—!”

he starts thrusting, timed and rhythmic as his hands reach under your thighs, slightly raising your lower body to meet the angle of his hips. you couldn’t deny that it felt good like he said. the heavenly drag of his dick inside your walls, feeling you squeeze around him just as he nearly pulls out, only to thrust it all back in again. he wanted to keep this “making love” pace as long as he wants but he’s getting irritated but how you still wanted to keep your pretty lips shut.

that’s when you truly felt the vehicle jolting back and forth, brought by the sudden way atsumu manically fucks you like some animal. the change of pace surprised you greatly, choking on your saliva and letting out a pornographic “ah!” as he started railing you in the backseat of his car. you were way past the point of no return as immense pleasure spiked your nerves. all thoughts of somehow fighting their advances being shot out the window.

“that’s it,” atsumu pants, swinging your legs up against your chest to fuck you even deeper. “come on, make some noise, princess. i want people to hear how good i make ya feel even if they’re miles away.”

after all this is over and the lustful haze they forced you under is gone, you’ll regret the way you moaned and groaned and whined like how you’re doing now. embarrassing, how even as atsumu leans closer to kiss you, you don’t push him away. a mess of saliva and sweat mixing as his pace doesn’t relent and the fierce jolts of the car only adds up to your pleasure.

“‘tsumu!” you screamed, one hand holding onto his hair and the other scratching at his back. “i’m close—shit!”

he replies with a moan of his own, drawn out and whiny, feeling your walls suffocating his cock as he continues to drive it in and out with a speed you’ve never experienced with your past rendezvous. perks of being an athlete, you guess. “don’tcha dare fuckin’ cum until i tell ya to or else.”

but that little devil is making it harder for you to obey him as one of his hands snakes in between your bodies to start toying with your clit, drawing firm circles and figure 8’s to draw in that eventual release. “no, no, ‘tsumu don’t!” you tried reaching down but his hand only tugs it back, firmly holding your wrist as he continues his ministrations.

it’s too much. you were feeling it all too much and in the heat of the moment, you forgot everything else—you arch your back and felt your climax crashing over you as your cum steadily makes a mess off the backseat with every thrust atsumu made.

he stops.

his head hangs low, looking at the view of your interconnected bodies before scoffing in disbelief. menacingly, he raises his head to make eye contact with you. “didn’t i fuckin’ tell ya to cum only if i tell ya to cum?”

the faux-blond grabs at your hair, ruthlessly tilting it back as you feel a sticky sensation running down your nether lips. you shake your head, eyes wide like a deer in headlights.

“but—!”

“i don’t care. i warned ya, didn’t i? so don’t fuckin’ hate me after all this is over.”

suddenly you feel your fight surging through you again like a tidal wave. this is wrong. how dare they do it even after you said no. how dare they do it and make you enjoy it?

“aw, cute. angel’s still got some fight in ‘er left.”

you thrashed against atsumu as soon as he swiftly pulls out of you. he doesn’t even break a sweat while restraining you with his bare hands.

“let me go! you fuckers! i’ll tell—”

“tell who? our parents? this isn’t elementary school, princess. ya get what ya fuckin’ deserve and it’s not our fault ya like swingin’ that pretty ass so much.”

you growl as a retort, attempting to bite atsumu’s hand off as he swiftly spins you around to lay on your stomach. you cringe, feeling your sticky essence against your skin. you didn't have time to feel humiliated, not as you came face to face with osamu’s still erect and angry dick.

you weren’t dumb, you knew why the faux-blond made you face his twins’ way—this is to be your punishment, he said, all the while feeling him scramble about behind you. it wasn’t only ‘til you feel atsumu’s tip prodding at your ass did you realize what’s going to happen.

“go on and give our ‘samu a nice suck, yeah? put on a show and if ya dare use yer teeth, i’ll personally make sure ya regret ever coming to hyōgo.”

you came back at dawn, during the sunrise. it’s glow basking the whole house in a nice orange tint. “what are you guys doing up so early?” your mom asks when she sees the three of you piling in from the front door.

she was too busy rubbing the sleep out of her eyes that she missed everything—the way osamu’s oppressive arm wrapped around your shoulder got tighter, the way atsumu gave you a nasty side eye, and especially the fearful expression on your face.

“no - nothing, mom. they just wanted to have a birthday countdown for me.”

“oh, right! happy 21st, sweetheart.”

[katehuntington]

Title: Black Dog - part seven Word count: 3100± words Episode summary: When  Sam gets an anonymous phone call with information about his father,   Dean receives a text message with coordinates to different location. The  brothers clash and split up, one following orders, the other trusting his instincts. Meanwhile, in the wilderness of Cascade Range, Washington  State, Zoë loses grip on a personal case and is forced to confront her  demons. Without back up, this might very well turn out to be her final  hunt. Part seven summary: Zoë and Dean try to form a plan of action, now that they are stuck in a cabin with hellhounds surrounding them. One wrong move can mean their end. Episode warnings: Dark! NSFW, 18+ only!   Angst, gore, violence, character death. Description of blood, injury and medical procedures. Supernatural creatures/entities, mentions of   demon possession. Swearing, smoking, weaponry. Descriptions of  torture  and murder. Illegal/criminal practices. Mentions of nightmares and flashbacks. Descriptions of suicidal thoughts and tendencies, depression, panic attacks, hallucinations. Author’s note: Beta’d by @winchest09​​​​​​​ & @deanwanddamons​​​​​​​​. Thanks, girls!

Supernatural: The Sullivan Series Masterlist

S1E03 “Black Dog” Masterlist

     “Can I ask you somethin’?”

     Zoë looks up, but can’t see the hunter who prolonged her life from where she’s sitting. She hasn’t moved much, still facing the fire that is raging now, filling the cabin with a comfortable heat. The tremors have stopped, her respiration much calmer now. Her body seems to have recovered from the initial shock of the traumatic attack. With the adrenaline gone, her leg hurts badly, though, the pain having her grit her teeth. She tries her best to block out the loud noises of pots and plates being moved in the cupboards of the small kitchen, increasing both her headache and frustration.      “Shoot,” she replies, her voice much weaker than she would like it to come out of her mouth.      “If you were so dead set on dying,” Dean says while pulling out a drawer, “then why did you stock up enough food and water to survive a fucking apocalypse?”      The huntress scoffs. “Hoping for a miracle, I guess.”      “Does this mean I’m your miracle?”       Dean moves into her peripheral vision with a can of tomato soup, a pot, some cutlery, and a can-opener in hand, setting the items down on the ground next to her for later. He has a boyish smirk on his face, apparently amused with his own remark.      Zoë rolls her eyes. She’s been stuck in this little house on a hillside for a little over an hour now, and this manchild is already getting on her nerves.

     “Let’s see if I can work miracles and get some help, because I have a feeling we’re gonna need it,” Dean slides his hand into the pocket of his leather coat, taking out his phone.      Zoë watches him, noticing a hint of hesitation. “Who you gonna call?” she wonders.      “The nerd.”      “He’s downhill?” she presumes.

     Dean drags his teeth over his bottom lip, but doesn’t answer. Instead, he stares at his Motorola as he looks up Sam’s number. His thumb hovers over the call button, but he doesn’t press it. Judging from the pause, Zoë is able to connect the dots; she knows something happened between the brothers.

     “You two got into a fight, didn’t you?” she assumes, not beating around the bush.      He glances over his phone to meet her gaze, then confirms with a nod. She can distinguish the concern and guilt in his stance; it’s bothering him.      “That bad, huh?” Zoë huffs. “Where is he then?”      “He was heading to Nashville,” Dean tells her.      “Tennessee?” she checks, stunned. “That’s a long way from Waco. Why the hell is he there?”      “It was the weirdest thing,” the older Winchester recalls, still unable to wrap his head around the strange lead that ultimately led them to have the biggest fight since Sam went to Stanford. “Someone called him, didn’t identify herself, and claimed that she knew where Dad was.”

     Zoë frowns, her interest peaked. For one, she is very curious about how this Mystery Lady would have gotten her hands on that kind of information, since John has basically been as invisible as a ghost. She knows, because she has been trying to track him down as well, but of course, that is a detail the huntress is going to keep to herself.

     “How did she get Sam’s number?” she questions, instead.      Dean shrugs. “Beats me, but when it comes to finding Dad, Sam can be quite--”      “- obsessive? Yeah, I've noticed,” Zoë chuckles, remembering the long conversations she had with Sam and the arguments the boys had in her presence.

     The guy who usually is so quick to respond to such a comment, seems distracted now, staring down at his Motorola. “Fuck.”      “No signal?” she presumes.      “Nada,” Dean sighs, thinking of another solution. “We need to reach him, especially if David sends out an S.O.S. signal. Sam needs to realize what he’s dealing with before he charges up here.”

     Realizing the Winchester in her company is right, she ponders. If the younger brother goes into this case without knowing that the hellhounds are off their leash and will attack anyone they come across, he is going to get torn to pieces. Dean and David are lucky, if there even is such a thing. The hunter is as stuck as she is, and the hellhounds might have caught up with the only Cleveland survivor; the kid could be dead for all she knows. 

     She adjusts her leg a little, carefully testing its mobility. The swelling is starting to pull at her skin, so she props her foot up again on the plastic first aid briefcase, watching Dean in the meantime. He has crouched down by the backpack he was carrying and mutters a few curse words under his breath while rummaging through it.

     “What are you looking for?” Zoë wonders.      “The kid packed a satellite phone,” he says, giving up his search, recalling that the zipper of the backpack wasn’t entirely closed when he took it off earlier. “Shit, I must have dropped it outside.”

     Annoyed with the rookie mistake, Dean gets up and walks over to one of the windows. There he listens carefully, but he can’t detect any sign of the hounds. No growl, no nothing; it’s almost too quiet. Ready to pick up any sign of movement, the hunter scans the area outside, but there’s nothing living nor dead to be seen. Then he spots the black device in the snow, just a yard away from the cabin.      “I see it.”

     “So what? It’s not like you can go out there.” Zoë pushes herself up on the edge of the table, careful not to put any pressure on her injured leg. Leaning against the pillar, she follows Dean’s fixed gaze. Without hesitation, the either fearless or oblivious  hunter intends to go out, his hand already reaching for the iron latch.      “Dean! Are you fucking nuts?!” Zoë calls out, dazed. “And you call me suicidal?”      “We need that phone, Zo,” he reminds her, his hand still on the handle.      “Do you have altitude sickness or something?!” The wounded huntress steps forward, her leg almost buckling, but Dean’s fast reflexes prevent her from hitting the floor.      “What are you doing? You shouldn’t even be standing up,” he scolds, steadying her.      “What am I doing?! If you go out there, those motherfuckers will rip you to shreds!” she argues, smacking his hand away.      “Yeah, and if we don’t contact Sam, he will!” he reminds her as he hands the shotgun to his current hunting partner, his green eyes intense. “I haven’t seen them yet. If they are still focused on you, they might not attack me.”      She meets him with the same fire in her eyes, keeping a tight grip on his biceps before he does something stupid. “And what if they do?”      “You’ll back me up,” he says, trusting her. “Okay?”

     Zoë stares at him for a couple of seconds, but then sighs, realizing that he makes a good point. If they are not able to reach his brother before he gets here, he will sign his death warrant the second he sets foot on the mountain. Reluctantly, she lets go of his arm and takes the gun, holding the action release button before she pumps the slide to force the shells into the chambers. “Okay.”

     He nods and turns away from her, glancing at the black and white world outside. Nervously, he takes a breath, collecting himself before he steps into the wolves den; here goes nothing. 

     The latch unlocks and the door opens. Careful not to break the line of goofer dust, Dean steps onto the porch and looks back for a second, sharing one last look with the huntress, then descends down the stairs. 

     It’s eerie how quiet the forest is. At midnight, the trees stopped whispering in the wind and even now he could still hear a penny drop. Even through his boots, the snow feels cold as he walks on it, highly aware of the crunching sound with every footprint the hunter leaves. Dean isn’t anxious often. But right now, being as exposed as he is, it ambushes him. Alert, he bridges the few yards between himself and the phone, trying to be as stealthy as possible. He ducks to pick it up, when he hears it; a deep, low growl.

     “Oh, fuck,” Zoë whimpers, staring past the hunter wide-eyes. 

     Slowly, Dean looks up into a pair of red eyes which light up in the darkness of the woods. It approaches him like a predator sneaking up on his prey, its head hanging low between its shoulders, every motion calculated. While Dean stares straight into the hypnotizing fiery orbs that seem to be portals to the afterworld downstairs, the wind picks up and begins to circle around the cabin. Zoë is shocked when she notices that the goofer dust at her feet is blown off the threshold; there goes their last line of defense. A shiver of both fear and the cold has her trembling as she holds up the shotgun, peering over the double barrel. The beast in the shadow inches closer to Dean, until the moonlight falls on the creature, revealing its true form.

     “Hey - uh, Zo?” Dean asks without moving a muscle. “These hellhounds, do they look like bear-sized monster mutts with hellfire burning in their eyes?”      Zoë inhales sharply, lifting her cheek from the stock of her weapon. Shit. He can see it. He can see the fucking hellhound. Realizing that Dean is a split second away from being torn apart, she swallows apprehensively, steadying her rifle in order to fire. 

     The hunter’s hand hovers over the essential device in the snow as he tries to form a plan of action, but he’s captivated by the bone-chilling creature before him. He has never seen anything animal-like so evil as what is standing before the hunter. It’s an absolute monster, about the size of an Irish wolfhound. It looks like one too, but its dark fur is anything but soft and cuddly. The hair on the back of the creature stands straight up, like splinters of obsidian. The beast growls, fixed on its target, showing its razor-sharp teeth, blood dripping from its mouth. 

     Dean stares back, contemplating his next move. Frozen to the ground, he holds his breath, aware that any sudden movement will trigger Hell’s watchdog to charge him. The hunter sets his jaw, never breaking away from the definition of Death before him, until movement in the black shades surrounding him draws his attention. A second pair of eyes appears, then a third, and a fourth. Within seconds he can count a total of six hounds.

He exhales with a shudder. I am so fucked.

     Who is going to make the first move? Dean knows it has to be him, because if he gives the evil creatures only a fraction of a head’s start, he’s going to end up with a lot of stitches, and that’s only if he’s lucky. Bracing himself and gathering his courage, Dean  takes a breath and counts down. 3… 2… 1… 

     Lightning fast, he snatches the phone from the snow and dashes back for the cabin. As fast as his legs can take him, he sprints to safety, but he can hear the beast that was closest to him lunge itself at its victim.

     “Get down!!!”      It’s Zoë’s high-pitched voice that cuts through the night air. He takes her cue and dives for the ground, rolling on his side. A mistake, because the vision of the hellhound coming towards him with tremendous speed is one that will surely leave him with a nightmare or two if he survives this. 

     Right before the supernatural being is about to release its fury, the creature is shot out of the air and squeals like a pup. Knowing he can’t afford to lose a second, Dean gets on his feet and rushes towards the porch. He registers the comforting sound of a shotgun reloading before another loud bang echoes through the valley. Almost there, Dean.

     But instead of just one hellhound, a whole bunch of them arise from the shadows now. Zoë’s eyes widen; there’s no way she can handle them all. She lowers her rifle and backs out. She doesn’t have a choice, there is no other way. What she’s about to do isn’t like anything she tried before, but it’s their only shot of staying alive. 

     As Dean stumbles in, the shotgun clatters against the floor. He turns around to close the only barrier between them, horrified when he witnesses the first two creatures already within inches of the threshold; they’re not going to keep them out of the cabin. But before the hunter can blink, the door slams closed with unmeasurable speed and power without anyone touching it, cutting off the creatures outside. Barking like mad, they march against the wood like a battering ram, clawing to get inside. 

     Unable to process the unexpected scene that plays out in front of him, Dean snaps his head towards his hunting partner, watching in shock how the woman has her right hand heaved up in front of her, fingers spread out and shaking. Her eyes are firmly closed, respiration fast and frantic. Holy fucking shit, this is her doing, Dean realizes. Whatever energy she’s sending towards the door, works because the dogs can’t get through. 

     “Dean, the goofer dust!” she exclaims over the sound of barking and growling, needing every ounce of her power to keep the barrier closed.      Zoë’s order brings him back, time speeding up again. He grabs the bag and quickly lays out a line on the doorstep. As soon as he has connected one side of the doorframe with the other, the pressure on the door drops as if someone flipped a switch. Out of breath, Zoë lowers her hand and opens her eyes as an almost unbearable headache comes to the huntress. Trying to cast it out, she pinches the bridge of her nose while fresh blood drips down from her nostrils. For a moment, she feels like she is going to pass out, but then the pain begins to fade to a level she can cope with. Whoa, that was intense. 

     She didn’t think she could do it, but she did. Making a whiskey bottle fall off a shelf in Beetle’s Bar is one thing, talking to Sam only using her mind is another, but this was a whole new experience. Of course, she has practiced her telekinesis, but never before has she used it on a supernatural creature. She’s getting better, or worse - depending on how she looks at it. 

     Dean, who can’t believe what he just saw, stares at her, his jaw slightly dropped and eyes wide. When Zoë glances aside, he knows she can see the indignation in his glare, detest even. He always assumed there was more to the huntress they crossed paths with only recently, but never once did he expect this. Who - or what - is standing before him, is anything but human.

     “Christo!” he shouts.      “I’m not a demon,” she assures.      “Then what the hell are you?” he asks, his upper lip twitching with a hint of hatred.       What. He asked her what she is. Not who, but what. Zoë swallows with difficulty as she collects the courage to speak again, hurt by his choice of words.      “I’m human,” she tries to assure him, her voice breaking. “Dean, it’s me.”

     She steps closer, but Dean quickly draws his Colt M1911 from behind his waistband. Alarmed and cautious, she moves both her hands up as a gesture of surrender. “Easy, tiger.”      “Leave her the fuck alone,” Dean sneers, convinced a demon is possessing his hunting partner.      “Would you drop it already?! You just yelled ‘Christo’ at me. Here, I can say it myself! Now if I was a demon, that would be a fucking awesome trick, wouldn’t it?” she fires back.      “Shut up,” Dean mutters, starting to doubt himself, yet unable to take his finger off the trigger.

     “It’s all mighty fine that I’m staring down the barrel, but a bullet won’t kill a demon. It will kill me, though,” she brings to mind, pointing at her chest.      “A human is not supposed to be able to do that kind of freaky shit!” Dean exclaims firmly, still aiming the .45 caliber at her.      “Neither is Sam, but I don’t see you pointing a gun at him!” she returns.

     He swallows apprehensively, brought out of balance by her rapid reply. He hates to admit it, but it’s a valid comparison, one that scares him. Because if he’s able to keep Zoë at gunpoint, what does that say about how abnormal his brother’s abilities are?      “Do you want to soak me in holy water if that makes you feel better? Fine, be my guest,” Zoë offers, waving her hands to the side.

     But Dean already lowers his Colt M1911 and flips the safety on, the engravings in the metal catching the light from the fire as he tucks it behind his waistband again. The hunter looks away, aghast, the mixture of doubt and distress that he’s experiencing throwing him off. Unsettled, he peers outside, but the hellhounds have disappeared. He thought he understood Zoë’s fear for these things, but now that he actually can see them, he’s experiencing that same anxiety. His heart is racing so severely he can feel it beating in his chest, and his breathing does not seem to slow down either. Almost dying is something he has gotten used to over the years, but almost going to Hell is a new one.

     “You okay?” Zoë checks, noticing his weariness.      “Yeah, I’m okay,” he claims, annoyed by the fact that he isn’t.      He starts pacing through the cabin slowly, keeping a sharp eye on the door. But it’s not just the creatures he keeps an eye on, he can’t help but monitor Zoë too. He huffs almost unnoticeable. You fucking idiot, you thought you had her figured. There’s a whole lot more to Zoë Sullivan than she shows, that’s for sure.

     “It’s a good thing we’ll be stuck up here for a while, because it’s about damn time you start talking,” he makes clear, done playing catch-up.      The woman across from him wipes her bloody nose with the back of her hand before she suggests otherwise. “We better make that call first.”

     Dean knows she’s avoiding the subject, but she has a point; he needs to reach out to his brother. He picks up the satellite phone and inserts the country code and Sam’s cell number, but before he presses the green button, he hesitates. He knows Sam. He knows his stubborn pain in the ass little brother; there is no way he is gonna talk to him after their fight. As soon as he will hear Dean’s voice, he will hang up, yet the one person he has been wanting to talk for days, is sitting right across from him.      He hands Zoë the phone. “You call him.”

Thank  you so much for reading. I appreciate every single one of you, but if  you  do want to give me some extra love, you are free to reblog my work  or buy me coffee (Link in bio at the  top of the page)

Read part eight here

[lady-of-glass-and-bone]

i've read through some of your works over on Ao3 and goodness! i loved them! i just had to ask, may i request angst/fluff with jason where the reader has to comfort him after a bit of a rough breakdown? usually it's the reader that needs comfort, but i much prefer helping someone else personally lol

Ahhh! Thank you so much, I'm glad you enjoy my scribbles! And thank you for requesting! I'm definitely also in the category of preferring to help someone else as well. Hope this is okay!

Jason x reader

Warnings: animal death beneath the cut, mourning, reader kills some people

So I had to put my dog down last year, she was 11 years old, and had cancer. I was there when she passed, I carried her to the car, dug her grave myself and I never really talked to anyone about how much the whole thing effected me. So I guess this kind of helped me a little with that.

What I listened to while writing this: Work Song by Hozier / Now or Never by Halsey /  Heavy by Linkin Park ft. Kiiara / How Dare You by Steaming Satellites / Lots of A Perfect Circle

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

-It happened on the worst day possible. The anniversary of Pamela's death(which I fully believe Jason saw because he killed Alice in the second movie. REVENGE)and mostly, people stay away from Camp Blood on that day more than any other day.

-But. Asshole teens who want to test the legend of Camp Blood are gonna be assholes.

-Jason just wanted to be left alone, alone with you and the little pack of stray animals you both had taken in since you arrived. He wanted to mourn on the day of his momma's death, clean up her shrine a bit and spend the rest of the day tucked up inside with you.

-But Jason also wants to keep people off his land. He's spilled enough blood for it, as did his momma, and even though you urge him to just let them go, just for today, if they're still there tomorrow go after them. But not today.

-He goes anyway. He doesn't notice Mae, the large, half blind shepherd mix he'd scooped up off the side of the road years ago, follow him out into the woods with her nose to the ground and hot on Jason's scent.

-The two are inseparable, ever since Jason brought her home in the pocket of his tattered coat, she'd followed him around, bumping into everything until she got the lay of the cabin. They go on patrols together, but only when Jason's reasonably sure there aren't any trespassers about.

-It's while you're taking a head count of all the pets as they eat dinner that you notice Mae is gone. Which would be funny considering how large she is. But it sends a spike of dread through you. There's a group of rowdy, more than likely drunk, teens out on the hunt for the famous killer of Camp Blood and if you know Mae, she'll protect Jason with her life.

-You get everyone where they're supposed to go, tucked safely inside the cabin before grabbing your sawed off shotgun and set out into the woods determined to bring both members of your family home safe and sound.

-Of course, life doesn't always work that way. You know these woods, even in the dark, but not as well as Jason and you get lost once and that's enough time for it to go to shit.

-You can hear it across the lake, the screams of the unfortunate victim's, the attempts they make to fight back. You follow it, shot gun ready and adrenaline pumping through your blood. And it had to be on the beach. The goddamn beach of all places!

-You're too far away. The last two victim's are scrambling on the waters edge as Mae lunges in front of Jason and tackles one of them to the sand. She's growling and snarling like you've never heard before, nipping at the arms thrown up to shield her target's face.

-Jason seems stunned. Mae was his baby. A gentle giant, just like him(on occasion) and then the other one is suddenly pulling Mae off by the scruff. No. There's a glint of metal. She's falling off, body limp, suddenly silent and when they let her fall to the sand to turn and help their friend, you can see the knife handle sticking up from the back of her neck, the sand seeping red with blood underneath her.

-Jason drops down beside her, machete forgotten on the ground, gently putting a hand on her rib cage. It doesn't rise and fall, she's dead. She wasn't even supposed to be out and now she's dead.

-You watch the survivors back away, one looking at Jason, the other sweeping the area for a possible weapon. You don't give them a chance. You're angry. At them. At everything. You're angry for Jason, who doesn't even seem to notice you come to stand behind him, shot gun raised, poised to protect.

-When you first came to Crystal Lake, you wouldn't have been able to pull the trigger, let alone aim well enough to kill them both with one blast each. But this is your home now too and they have hurt your family, taken one of them. Now, it's easy and maybe you'll see their pained expressions in nightmares on occasion but now, you all you care about is the frozen figure hunched over Mae.

Tears are starting to gather in your eyes and the shotgun seems to weigh a ton in your hands so you drop it carelessly to the sand. Jason has seemed to stop, still as a statue with one large palm resting over Mae's side, like maybe if he waits long enough, she'll come back like he did.

You know better. There's no coming back for Mae. It doesn't make the hollow feeling in your gut any less painful.

When you place a hand on Jason's shoulder you feel the fine tremor in his frame. It starts small and if you weren't so attuned to Jason after all this time you would have thought he was shivering.

'I'm sorry' 'I should have watched her better' 'I shouldn't have gotten lost' 'Tell me how to fix this.'

The words scramble in your brain at the low sound the man before you makes, his fingers clenching in Mae's fur, and you wrap your arms around him, pulling him gently to lean against you. You have to brace yourself when he slumps against you, shoulder digging into your stomach and head on your chest.

You hold him tight, curling over to place your cheek atop his head, your face away from the bloody scene. You try your best to communicate silently, the way Jason seemed to do so easily with you,

'I'm so sorry.'

His breath rasps in and out in harsh sweeps as he reaches up to grasp the arm you have curled around his collarbone, clutching tighter as if asking,

'Why do they all die? Why do they leave?'

'I don't know. I'm here, right here. I'm not leaving, I'll never leave.'

Both of you stand vigil, un-moving, for long enough that the sun begins to stretch between the trees on the far edge of the lake. You know he would stay there for days if you let him but you can't keep listening to him cycle between a quiet, unnerving calm and the near brink of silent sobbing.

So you give him a squeeze with your arms and a slight shake before pulling away to kneel down beside him, trying and failing to turn his face away from Mae's body. You try harder and eventually he relents, the tension draining out of him at the meeting of your eyes.

"Let's take her home okay?" you whisper "Let's go home and put her to rest."

There's a brief flash of anger in his uneven eyes and then it fizzles out. It leaves nothing but a flicker of pain before he moves to take off his coat and lay it over Mae, only stopping long enough to pull the knife out of her. You take it from his hand and hurl it into the lake, as far out as you can, while he wraps her up.

He carries her home to your cabin, a slow stain blooming on the coat. It's the closest to a funeral procession you can imagine, shot gun still heavy in your hand. You almost offer to dig the grave but that would take longer than you think he could stand, so you let Jason do it.

Leaving him in the back yard as you go through the morning routine with the rest of the pack, minus one, you can feel them looking for Mae. Missing her in their own way.

You pick from various patches of wildflowers around the cabin until you have a bundle big enough to spread over the length of the mound of dirt that sticks out like a sore thumb. Eventually one of you will find something to mark it with as the ground settles, but as you lay the last few flowers, giving Jason a watery smile as you do, you think this with be good enough for now.

The look he gives you says he agrees.

The both of you sit on the back steps of the cabin, hand in hand, enjoying the silent comfort of one another.

[consumedkings-archive]

ancient names, pt. xii

A John Seed/Original Female Character Fanfic

Ancient Names, pt xii: splinters

Masterlink Post

Word Count: ~11.4k. (ash shut the fuck up challenge has been brutally failed)

Rating: M for now, rating will change in later chapters as things develop. Tiny tiny TINY hint of something more explicit for like one second if you blink.

Warnings: uhhhhhhh descrips of an anxiety attack, Elliot turns feral like 2x, Joseph is V creepy (what's new--so I guess like, some Joseph/Deputy if you squint again), brief allusions to assault, also some very very very VERY minor steaminess mentioned but it's like just John being himself inside his own brain so. Yeah.

Notes: "what do you MEAN you're closer to your best friend and actual working partner than me, the guy who tried to drown you like a week ago" - @starcrier​, impersonating john seed

I don't want to sound like a broken record but I mean it when I say: THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU! This chapter is 11k words long and I don't have anything to say for myself, I just want y'all to know it wouldn't have happened without y'all (which you know by now).

I've been staring at this chapter for like 3 days so I'm gonna keep this short but. I hope you enjoy! Everyone say thank you to @starcrier for proofreading this hot mess and then we can move on to wishing John and Elliot would just bang it out already.

“So what the hell was that?”

Elliot didn’t particularly want to think about it, and she especially didn’t want to discuss the nature of her last John Seed Interaction with Joey. She knew how that was going to go—and even if she didn’t, she’d hardly figured out the whole thing herself. She didn’t think her heart had stopped hammering even after he’d left.

I told you, there’s just the one. This one, El, me.

Boomer’s cold nose pressing against her chin pulled her mind away from the feeling of John’s fingers in her hair, his arm slid around her waist, his mouth on hers, the faded scent of his cologne washing over her. Already she felt the heat crawling back into her face and she swallowed thickly, closing her eyes as she planted a kiss on the side of Boomer’s face.

“It wasn’t anything,” Elliot said, before she could think too much on how the lie coming out of her mouth made her feel. She’d never lied to Joey—not about anything, not about her ex-boyfriend or her mama or anything —but it felt like a losing game to be honest about what had happened, especially before she’d even figured out how she felt about it.

“Didn’t look like nothing,” Joey replied, sitting on the edge of one of the beds. “And you’re doing that thing you do when you’re trying to lie.”

“It was nothing, ” Elliot insisted. There was no heat in the words. She pulled Boomer into her lap and rubbed his belly, watching the Heeler loll his head dreamily against the affection. The blush was starting to fade from her face now, and in its place was the stabilizing familiarity of the hound.

Joey watched her for a moment before she said, “Crazy that Boomer didn’t rip John’s throat out.”

Deciding against answering—because the answer would almost certainly sound like she was defending John , which she did not want to follow up whatever it was that had just happened—Elliot instead pressed her cheek to Boomer’s and shrugged.

John kissed me, something in her mind said, furiously rebellious, and I kissed him back. Fuck fuck fuck.

“El,” Joey said quiet, “we have to get out of here.”

“Yeah,” Elliot agreed. “We will. We can hitch it Fall’s End, you think? And get... Supplies, and a car, and...”

Her voice trailed off. The idea of walking all the way to Fall’s End from the compound, unarmed—because the Seeds would certainly not give them arms if they could help it—exhausted her. While the drugs that the Family had pumped into her were mostly out of her system by now, save the occasional faint wobble in the corner of her vision, her body still ached; her lungs still strained to fight off the sickness she’d gotten just days ago, which had been blissfully tamped down from her senses while she was high but was now back in full force.

“But it’s dangerous,” she added after a moment. “With the—the others still out there. I thought if Ase died it would be the end of them, but—”

“The big one.” Joey’s voice was a quiet agreement. “He’s going to be mad. I thought I heard him last night, when we were getting out of there, after John and Jacob brought you back down.”

Another quiet pause stretched between them. Elliot couldn’t help but think back to what John had said: that he hadn’t shot Ase that second time, but Jacob had. She couldn’t remember for the life of her if John had been holding the shotgun or not when they got down the slope. She couldn’t remember if she saw Jacob with a shotgun. She couldn’t remember much from that night, anyway, besides the dread that had flooded her body when Ase had made her look into the woods, and the strike of the woman’s viscera against her face when she’d been finished off.

Sleep had not come easily to Elliot, in the last twelve hours, and she didn’t imagine that it would any time soon. Her life had become one exhausting blur of blood and panic, with only the occasional respite of quiet, and Elliot felt deep in the marrow of her bones that pattern wasn’t going to be changing any time soon.

“Let’s just take advantage of the quiet while we can,” she suggested after a moment, rubbing her eyes tiredly. Already she wanted another cigarette, the gentle rattle of her lungs on every intake of breath told her to rethink that urge. Joey made a low noise of agreement.

The brunette slid off of her seat on the bed, scooting over until they were next to each other and she could give Boomer’s belly a steady pat. Elliot rested her cheek against Joey’s shoulder. She sighed.

“You think those Seeds are plotting something?”

“I think they never stopped,” Joey replied tiredly. “Not for one second.”

Elliot made a soft noise of agreement. She wanted to ask her what she remembered of the night before—if John was being honest when he said Jacob had delivered that second blow, if she thought that it even mattered who had done it.

It does matter, she thought tiredly. It matters to me.

“We’ll lay low for a few days,” she murmured. “Get back on our feet, and let them think.... Whatever they want to think. And just keep our wits about us until we can get to Fall’s End. Maybe one of us should stay, in case someone tries to call for us.” She closed her eyes, and for a moment, Elliot could almost pretend things were normal; it wouldn’t be crazy to think that maybe this was all just a bad, horrible dream.

But she couldn’t have dreamed up the way John had kissed her—one hand in her hair, the other gripping her hip, like he was hungry. Hungry for her . She had always wanted that, she thought; for someone to be starved for her. How did he know? How did he always know what she was weak to?

“And then we’ll get out of here,” Joey said, her voice soft and tired, too. Elliot couldn’t imagine how tired she was, after it all.

“Yeah,” Elliot replied. She steeled her voice, but her eyes stayed closed. “Then we get the fuck out of here.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

The best sleep she’d gotten in days was on a bed in the Eden’s Gate compound, Boomer tucked into her side. It was only an hour or two—certainly not the full night that she needed—but when she woke up she was already feeling better.

Better, and more aware of what had transpired.

She’d yelled at John about shooting Ase, and John had said that was Jacob, and there was no way to affirmatively know that he was telling the truth short of taking his word on it, and if there was one person who she didn’t trust the word of, it was John Seed.

Well, maybe Joseph less than him, she reasoned absently, rinsing her mouth with water that wasn’t contaminated with drugs in the bathroom, splashing it onto her face. Then John, then Faith, then Jacob.

She tried not to think about how troubling it was to consider Jacob the more straight-forward of the Seed siblings, even more so than Faith, but while Elliot felt desperately like she wanted to protect the girl—she knew that was the point. Joseph wouldn’t have picked Faith if she was truly as pure as she liked to put on.

Boomer buffed in the main room of the cabin, nails clicking on the wood flooring. Elliot dried her face and headed out the front door to see what he was fussing about; Joey still slept quietly, probably glad to sleep without drugs weighing her system down and an immediate threat—well, immediately beyond the Seeds—hanging over her.

“Stay,” she murmured. “Stay with Joey, Boomer.”

The Heeler whined, low and exceptionally pathetic, before crouching low to the floor and settling. She closed the cabin door behind her and wiped her hands absently on the front of her jeans, gaze flickering across the yard. Joseph had apparently gathered the members of Eden’s Gate from hiding and they now milled about, heads turning wherever she went, hostile but controlled. For now. It wasn’t unlike the first time that Elliot had walked into the compound with Burke and Whitehorse, as she moved across the yard to the chapel; almost surreal, the world fizzing around her in a white-static as she remembered the way it felt to have Joseph look at her and say, and Hell followed with him.

Dreadful.

Fall was now in full swing, which meant that though the sky was clear, the afternoon had a bite to it that was trying to work its way under her clothes and into the marrow of her bones. From the side of the church, she could see the treeline of the woods that surrounded the compound; against her better judgment, Elliot stopped at the chainlink fence and stared.

The monster in the woods that she’d seen last night still stuck to her—wadded up somewhere right in the hollow of her jaw, locking her mouth shut from being able to talk about it. It wasn’t like she’d know what to say if she could talk about it, anyway; I saw something big, and scary, and it was in the woods and it knows me. What would it matter? It had just been the drugs, anyway. A madness shared by a group of people, seeing what they wanted to see, melding with the things that Elliot hated the most.

Seeing herself, hearing herself, and not recognizing who she was anymore.

“Penny for your thoughts?”

She didn’t have to turn around to know who it was; the slick, rich timbre of Joseph’s voice rattled through her, straight down to the marrow of her bones. If I could have only gotten a good look at it, something in her said, like the monster had been real, like something really was out there trying to slide under her skin.

“Joey and I are leaving,” Elliot said, by way of response; she could feel Joseph’s eyes on her, his footsteps against the packed dirt hitting soft behind her before she saw him stop just in her peripheral. “As soon as I can get to Fall’s End, we’re leaving.”

Joseph was quiet for a moment. And then he said, “You seem troubled, deputy.”

“Well, I did get fucking drugged out of my mind,” she snapped.

“You’ve seemed troubled for a while,” he replied. “Prior to the Family, to all of this.” He gestured vaguely at the compound, absently adjusting the yellow-tinted glasses on his face. Not once did he look at her, pin her with those eyes, but rather kept his gaze focused on the forest where she’d been looking. “I saw you before, Elliot. Before you were even a junior deputy. You were different, then.”

It shouldn’t have felt like a violation to know that Joseph had seen her, known of her, before all of this—but it did. It felt like a violation because she had no way of controlling it. Joseph may as well have flipped through an old yearbook and read all of the things friends had written to her, or pried open her diary.

Elliot said, carefully and meticulously planting each word, “People change.” She was determined not to lose her temper with Joseph, not the same way that she did with John or Jacob—it made it difficult to feel justified, when the man was so hard to rattle as it was.

“People are changed,” Joseph corrected her in his easy cadence, “by the things around them.”

The pressure of her molars grinding together was beginning to make a headache bloom just behind her eyes. What the fuck does he know, she thought furiously, the idea that the person that she was today had been entirely out of her hands making her stomach wrench with something vicious. Joseph was full of shit, and he wore stupid sunglasses and preached hollow, empty words, so what did it matter?

It mattered a lot. It meant that she’d had no hand in who she was now, and that she wouldn’t be able to change it if she wanted to; as though, in the instance that she didn’t want to feel hungry and hurt and needing all the time, she wouldn’t be able to make it change herself. She’d have to wait.

“If I put you in a perfect, empty bubble of a room,” he continued, when she didn’t argue, “and left you there, would anything about you change?”

“You’re the last person I would take psychological observations as truth from,” she managed out after a moment, finally turning to look at him—and he did too, at the same time, like he was ready for it. Anticipating it. Knew that she would do it all along.

For a long moment, he didn’t say anything. He just watched her, his eyes glued to her own, and finally he said, “Elliot, it’s not uncommon in people who are abused to—”

The word abused rinsed her system like an ice bath. It catapulted her mind somewhere else, somewhere far, away, but the muscle memory pulled through anyway, spitting the words, “I’m not abused,” out of her mouth to overrun whatever psycho-babble bullshit Joseph was trying to tell her. She might have tried to swallow down the volume of her voice had it been anything else, anyone else, but she felt it shoot up with hysterical rage.

“Deputy—”

“I’m not.” And now she didn’t know if she was saying it for his sake or something else. “You don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about.”

“I know that you have scars,” Joseph replied, his voice firmer now than before. And that dragged her head back, neurons firing off left and right. Red alert, they screamed, abort mission. “Scars that you don’t get from nothing. Scars that—”

“—need to stop fucking talking—”

“—only mean that you don’t become like this without—”

“Like what?”

He stopped. Something passed over his face, but only for a moment—not long enough for her to decipher what it was. Against her better judgement, she stayed where she was instead of walking away from him; perhaps it was a morbid curiosity, to know what it was that the great and mighty Joseph Seed thought she was afflicted with.

And then, with a soft, delicate kind of pity, Joseph placed his hands on her shoulders and said, “Hurting.”

This was all wrong. The pressure of Joseph’s hands on her shoulders did not quiet the roar in her head, did not bring her any kind of comfort. Nausea welled up inside of her like a black bile; her body wanted to purge it, a venom seeping from a wound. Vaguely, she was aware that she wished he’d said something else—anything else, anything other than hurting, anything that could give her the footing to be angry and furious and spit her poison at him.

But there was nothing.

“You don’t have to keep pushing it down,” he continued, his voice low and almost urgent. “Absolution isn’t out of your reach forever.”

“Shut—” Elliot sucked in a sharp breath; she reached up, but her arms felt like lead weights. “S-Shut the fuck up—”

“Elliot,” Joseph murmured, squeezing her shoulders, “you might be able to convince yourself that you’re fine, but I see you.”

Ase’s glassy eyes, her fingers twisted in Elliot’s. Sisters. Do you see?

“Aren’t you tired?” His voice, sliding under her skin, trying her on. He was the monster in the dark of the woods, humming as he lifted the edges of her skin and peeled them back. “Aren’t you so tired, Elliot, of all of this running? All of this anger?”

He was too close, now, his hands on her neck, cradling. Joseph leaned in and rumbled, just against her temple, “It must be so hard, living with it every day. I can help you rest.”

Her brain scrambled for a grip, anywhere; she was only vaguely aware of pushing Joseph’s hands off of her shoulders, that they met resistance for a moment before he gave way for her. Anything, anything but that, don’t fucking look at me, I didn’t say that you could, don’t fucking touch me.

She willed her feet forward. Away from the fence, away from Joseph, away from the church and around the back of one of the buildings.

“It’s not uncommon in survivors, Miss Honeysett. The nightmares , reliving the moment — it’ll get better. I promise.”

But she still felt his hands on her; not Joseph, but him, his hands grabbing her mouth and her hair, pinning her against the door, the taste of copper flooding her mouth when she sank her teeth down and ripped. She still felt the grip when she closed her eyes, and the doctor said it would go away and it would get better, but how long was she supposed to wait? How long was she supposed to feel like this?

I see, she thought frantically, the… The grass, and… I hear… I hear —

“I can see that you’re hurting. I’m only here to help; you just have to let me. I can help, Elliot.”

“Elliot,” John said, sounding surprised to see her come bolting around the corner. He leaned a little, to see where she had come from, and then looked back at her, reaching up. “Why are you breathing so hard? I thought I heard shouting. What’s—”

“Stop,” she bit out, grinding the words between her teeth before she let them out. “Don’t—”

“Okay,” he replied quickly. His hands hovered for a moment before dropping; his gaze drifted again, lingering behind her, before he returned his attention. “Okay, I won’t. Why don’t you sit down?”

I see you.

“No!” Elliot snapped, taking in a shaky breath. The adrenaline wouldn’t stop; not even with the distance between herself and Joseph, not even with John’s voice anchoring her to the ground. “No, I’m not fucking—sitting down. Take me to Fall’s End so I can get—so I can get out—so I can—so I—”

She didn’t think when she grabbed John’s arm to steady herself. Looking back on the moment later, she thought maybe it was a force of habit; he’d been around for a lot of moments like this. In the last few days, they’d gotten through a lot. And—

And he hadn’t had to come back for her if he didn’t want to. And he hadn't had to kiss her if he didn’t want to. He didn’t have to do any of those things, and he did them anyway, and somehow she only felt worse than before; it had been easier when she could hate him blindly.

“It’s supposed to storm tonight,” John said, and if he felt anything about the way she was gripping his arm he didn’t say. Something uneasy flickered in his face, and he added, “You should probably wait until tomorrow, deputy.”

“Fuck. Off,” Elliot said. “Take me to Fall’s End or—”

This seemed to reassure him that she was doing fine. John arched a brow at her loftily and said, his voice a light challenge, “Or what?”

“Hey, John? Hey?”

“Yes?”

“Fuck you?” It returned a bit of normalcy to see him roll his eyes. Her fingers wadded into his shirt sleeve, she said, “Or I’ll walk there myself.”

��You seem to think that relieving me of the burden of your constant verbal assault is a threat,” John deadpanned. “And besides, you’re in no position to be threatening me anyway . You’re the one who didn’t want Joey to know that we—”

Kissed.

“Sh—” The sharp sound coming out of her mouth was enough to stop John. She glanced over her shoulder; if there was one person she would hate more than Joey to find out about that, it was Joseph. Oh, he’d probably just be delighted . As she swallowed back the lump of anxiety in her throat, she said, more urgently now, “John.” Please, she wanted to say, but she wouldn’t.

He watched her for a long moment. She didn’t know how to tell him that if she spent a second longer with his human scalpel of a brother trying to peel her skin back she was going to lose it. She didn’t know how to say that even though she hated him—even though he’d kidnapped her best friend and teased her with that stupid commercial and considered the logistics of drowning her—in the last few days he’d been something close to reasonable, something, and she wanted desperately to keep that streak going.

“Fine,” John said after a moment of deliberation. “But only you. Hudson would spend the entire time trying to eviscerate me, and I only just got you off that kick.”

Bad, Elliot’s gut said. But he was right. Joey would have never accepted help from one of the Seeds, and it was best if she stayed here to rest, anyway; she’d been through the worst of it. She could leave Boomer here to help ease her concern, and if someone tried to radio in—either the Resistance members or Burke—it would be better for Joey to make sure they didn’t get lied to.

“Fine,” Elliot repeated, swallowing thickly. “But—we go tonight. Like, right now.”

“Sure, boss.”

She dropped her hand from John’s arm and took in a deep breath, pushing the hair away from her face. When she looked back over her shoulder to where she’d fled from, Joseph was no longer standing there. She had the feeling that he’d been there for a while. Watching.

But she couldn’t think about it much, because John was turning and heading off, talking over his shoulder. “Tell your Hudson that we’re going, and we can head out.”

Yeah, Elliot thought. Easy enough.

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It did not, in fact, go over well.

Or, well, that’s what John could glean from what he heard from the outside of the bunkhouse. Hudson wasn’t pleased—but it was easy to see that it was because she didn’t want to have to say that she owed anything to them. In the long run, even John knew that this was the best option.

Well, the best option was probably not having Elliot do anything. 

“Hudson’s a problem,” Jacob said, arms crossed over his chest as John stood leaned up against the front of the truck. Absently, he swung the key ring around his finger.

“It’s fine.”

“Aren’t you supposed to be convincing Honeysett to stick around?” Jacob muttered. “Seems like giving them the resources to fuck off is the opposite of that.”

“What did you say to Joseph?” he asked, ignoring his older brother’s comment regarding what he was supposed to be doing or not doing. “Before I talked to him last night.”

Jacob slid his gaze to him. For a second, he didn’t say anything, like he was trying to parse out what exactly it was that John was asking him. Because it wasn’t just what did you say to Joseph, it was what did you two talk about, and he wasn’t sure he was going to get even close to the answer that he wanted.

“Just told him what you told me,” the redhead replied, uncrossing his arms and letting them drop to his side. “Burke’s gone. That’s a problem, too.” Another pause, and then: “Seems like we have a lot of problems around here as of late.”

John watched his eldest brother’s receding silhouette. What the fuck does that mean? He wanted to say, but there was no time—Jacob would almost certainly indulge him, and if he derailed Elliot’s plan anymore than it already was, he’d almost certainly get strangled. In the less-fun way.

The door to the bunkhouse opened, and Elliot came out with Hudson trailing close behind. Seeing the two of them together just reminded him, again, of the last time the three of them had been in the same space together. 

I don’t know which, Elliot had said, like there was a John she’d want to kiss, and she needed to find him.

“Are we going?” Her voice, brisk as it normally was, ripped him out of the memory as she reached to take the keys from his hand.

He lifted them just out of reach. “At your leisure,” John quipped, “my liege. ”

“Bring her back, alive and in one piece,” Hudson ground out. “I’m only staying in case the Resistance radios in, and to keep an eye on your stupid brothers. If I had my way—”

“I’d be dead, the Resistance would be flourishing, the cops would be flooding this place, yada yada.” John waved his hand absently. “A pleasure as always, Deputy Hudson.”

“Don’t instigate her,” Elliot sighed. “You sound like a fuckhead.”

“He is a fuckhead,” Joey bit out. “Elli, I’m serious—I can come. You don’t have to—”

And then, in what John thought could only be a surprising act of self-control, she stopped herself. She stopped herself and didn’t finish her sentence, and the moment stretched long and unspoken between the two of them.

More than ever, John felt like the intruder, the interloper. Where he had thought Hudson would need to get used to the tenuous and tentative teamwork he and Elliot had been building, it now felt painfully apparent that the person that was going to be on the outside was him.

“I know,” Elliot replied after a moment. “I know, and I’m—it’ll be okay, I’ll be back soon, okay?  John, I’m driving.”

“I don’t feel like dying.”

“You drive like an old man,” she quipped, and when he arched a brow at her as if to remind her that she’d never once experienced his driving, she said, “ probably, in comparison to me—”

“—right, yeah, the woman who drives like she’s on Monster Jam. I think I’ll pass on the adrenaline rush, but thank you.”

“ Fine, ” Elliot sighed. “You’re so annoying.”

He headed around the front of the truck. Elliot exchanged a few softer, quieter words that he couldn’t quite make out with Hudson and then slid into the seat next to him, buckling up and settling back against the seat with a sigh. As soon as they had pulled out of the compound, she seemed to visibly relax; whatever tension had been holding her shoulders so close to her face had fled.

“Do you want to play a game?” John asked conversationally, after they’d been on the road for about ten minutes; he anticipated her answer but asked anyway. Part because the silence made him uneasy, and part because there was a small chance she’d say yes.

“No.” And then, moving on the offensive: “Do you really believe it?” she asked, and when John waited for her to elaborate, she continued, “All of this—bullshit. That Joseph is saying about the end times, and—”

John cleared his throat. He’d figured this question would come up sooner or later. He’d just hoped to have had more time, first. “I believe in Joseph,” he said after a moment, skimming his hands along the steering wheel. “I always—Joseph has always had our best interests in mind. And he hasn’t been wrong , you know.”

“So far,” Elliot pointed out.

“Yeah, well, that’s still a pretty good record.” He could feel himself getting defensive. “I spent—our parents, they—”

And then the words stopped coming out. They halted in his throat, dragging, shredding inside of him. I spent my whole life waiting for something to say yes to.

“Anyway,” John continued after a moment, eyes grazing the incoming storm clouds, “I would do anything for my family.”

“Ah.” And that was all she said. For some reason, it really dug at him—didn’t she want to push and press, slam on his berserk button until he couldn’t stand it anymore? John let the silence stretch between them for a bit longer before he glanced over at her.

She was about half-asleep in the passenger seat. Every time her eyes began to drift, they’d suddenly flutter awake; without her brows furrowing and her mouth set into a hard line, she looked like she had when he’d seen her in that bar, years ago. Soft, he thought absently as wisps of her hair fell out of her ponytail.

He was reminded briefly of how Jacob had once told him, back when they were kids, that an animal feeling comfortable enough to sleep around you was a sign of trust; and then he thought about how much he was sure Elliot would murder him for even drawing those parallels.

“What were you doing?” he asked, when he saw her eyes stay open for longer than a few seconds. “When I ran into you, I mean. Back at the compound.”

A grimace crossed the blonde’s face. She rubbed her forehead tiredly. “Just thinking.”

“That is quite a chore,” John agreed, and she shot him a scowl.

“Fuck you.”

“If you ask,” he agreed, “politely.”

That bloomed the red in her face, so fair was her skin that it was visible almost instantly. For once, she had no rapidfire response ready. He could hear the gears of her brain grinding and hitching before she finally said, “Stupid.”

John tried not to seem too pleased. Rain began to fall—steady at first, and then pelting the windshield with what felt like baseball sized raindrops. John slowed down as they took a corner, grimacing.

“I don’t want you to tell Joey,” Elliot said after a moment, with no context, though he had an idea of what she meant and it made something sharp and prickly coil in his stomach, right there under his heartbeat. Still, he feigned innocence.

“About—?” he prompted, but before she could clarify he plunged on. “That I’d do anything for my family? Or about how if you asked nicely I’d—”

“The kiss,” Elliot bit out, scoffing under her breath. “You fucking narcissist.”

“That’s still about me,” he pointed out, slowing down more as the wind picked up. “I really don’t think we’re gonna beat the storm.”

“ John.”

“Well!” He exhaled sharply. “What, you don’t want your best friend to know that I kissed you—”

“I’m serious—”

“—and you kissed me back?”

“Yes!” She snapped. “That’s exactly right! Good job, John, do you want a medal for your skills in critical thinking? I know that must have been a real fucking strain for you.”

Great, he thought dryly. Glad she’s back up to full steam. “And why not?” he demanded. “Seems like you and Hudson don’t keep anything from each other.”

“Because she’s going to ask why ,” Elliot replied finally, after she let a long heartbeat wind its way between them, “and I don’t—I won’t have an answer, because I don’t know.”

It was his turn to be quiet. He might have been more discouraged—and fairly—if his brain didn’t keep turning over the fact that she hadn’t denied kissing him back. Not even for a second.

I think you’re doing a great job with the deputy.

In an effort to ease the tension, and ignore Joseph’s voice lingering in his head, John offered, “If she asks that, you could just be honest.”

Elliot waited, because he supposed that she knew he wasn’t done talking; but it wasn’t any fun if she wasn’t going to walk into the punchline, so he waited, too. And when she finally said, “And how would I answer, then, John?” tiredly, he settled back into the seat comfortably.

“That I’m handsome, and irresistible, and there is an undeniable —” He ignored her infuriated groan and plunged on, “—attraction between us.”

“I have an incredible idea. Let’s play the “John shuts the fuck up and gets Elliot to town” game.”

“Now you’re just being mean. ”

A little laugh came out of her at that—the first time John thought he’d heard her laugh in a long time, even considering that they’d only been at this for a little under a week. The sound made a pleasant warmth bloom in him.

“Just focus on getting us to town, grandpa,” she said. “Then we can talk about how mean I am.”

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By the time they got to Fall’s End, the storm had started to hit in full force. John barely managed to pull the truck in front of the Spread Eagle before he watched the wind lean a telephone pole hard left.

“We’re not driving back until this storm is done,” he told Elliot, over the screaming wind. Thunder rumbled, rattling deep inside of the cavity of his chest; two seconds outside of the truck had them drenched, clothes sticking to them.

“Then we’ll have plenty of time to collect up supplies,” she called back, pushing the door of the bar open and stepping inside. John followed suit; he even held his breath, just for a second, with the idea that maybe the Resistance hadn’t left when she’d told them to. But inside it was quiet; the lights were down, presumably from the storm, and all he could hear was the faint sound of the rain pelting the windows and the thunder rolling outside. 

Elliot said, in a sigh of relief, “They left.” John threw the lock on the front door just for good measure—not that he thought Ase’s men would be out in this kind of storm—and then followed her further into the bar. 

“I’m glad that we’re able to get… Fireball for you and Hudson,” John remarked as he inspected one of the bottles, and Elliot scrunched up her face.

“Gross.”

“What? You’re a little country bumpkin. Don’t you love Fireball?”

“Um,” Elliot said, “fuck you. Call me a country bumpkin again, John.” She busied herself with picking up one of the plastic crates and filling it with dry foods, muttering crossly under her breath. He watched her deliberate for a moment before she picked up one of the nicer bottles of vodka and planted it in the crate.

“I’m scandalized!” he exclaimed. “Can’t wait to tell Jacob I drove you down here for you to get alcohol .”

“That’s not the only thing,” she protested, “and we still have to stop by my house. Once the storm clears up.”

It didn’t pass John’s attention that Elliot hadn’t argued with him about driving in a storm like she had before, nor that she seemed to be a thousand yards more relaxed than she had been in the compound. Her hands moved with a different surety now, a different kind of confidence that had been missing before; sleep, he thought, and a day or two without getting drugged would do that to a person.

“Well, I’m going to take a shot,” John announced, shivering. “Before I die of exposure.”

She eyed him warily but continued to busy herself; though her clothes were drenched too, her shivering was purely physical, shuddering in her shoulders and back but not once rattling her teeth or hands. The blonde pushed the wet hair from her face on occasion, and sometimes sniffled, but as John poured himself a shot he thought that she seemed much more composed.

John made his way over to where she was packing things up behind the bar, reaching around her from behind to set a shot down in front of her.

“I’ll take back that I called you bumpkin,” he said lightly, “if you take this shot with me.”

“We’re here to get supplies, John,” she replied flatly.

“And we’re stuck until the storm blows over.”

Elliot narrowed her eyes. She was certainly considering a number of things—the fact that they would be leaving as soon as the storm was done, he would assume—but then, as though she had worked herself up to it, she snatched the shot glass off of the table and took it. John quickly followed suit, but not without a noise of protest.

“That isn’t how you take a shot,” he told her, watching her mouth twist at the taste. “You’re supposed to tap the bar first.”

“I was going to lose my nerve,” she defended, and for once that idea that Elliot was admitting that she had nerve that could be lost made John feel a little good. “ Yuck. I told you Fireball was bad.”

“I take it back. You’re not a bumpkin. You’re a very sophisticated, intelligent, beautiful woman, who just happens to want to live in the country, for some reason.”

Something about what he’d said made her attitude falter, disappearing right before his eyes as her cheeks heated up from his words. She said, after a moment, “Why are you trying to get me to drink, anyway?”

The question was a fair one, he supposed, though as he leaned against the bar near to her he shrugged. “Well,” he began, “it’s fucking cold, for one. For two, since Hudson spirited away when we first met, I never got the chance to figure out what would have happened if you’d stayed.”

The blonde returned to keeping her hands busy, moving briskly. “ I know,” she said, more confidently than he would have expected, and he arched a brow at her.

“And what would have happened, then?”

“I would have gone home with you,” Elliot replied, without missing a beat, sucking the wind right out of his sails. And it was that easy, too; I would have gone home with you, she’d said, like it was nothing, like it didn’t matter that this whole time she’d been fighting him at every turn but was now openly admitting that she had wanted him then.

She would have been mine, something wicked in him whispered, pulling itself out of the dark recesses of his mind. I would have had her, all to myself, for all this time. She’d have been my monster of Wrath. Think about how obedient she would be now.

Before John could say anything, she continued, “Because I was young, and stupid, and we should be thankful that I’m not the same girl I was then.”

He studied her for a moment, watched the way that she absently pushed the damp hair from her face, the way the heat spread in her cheeks. And he said, “Pretend, then.”

Her hands stilled, and she looked at him. “Pretend what?”

“We’re in a bar,” John replied, closing what little distance remained between them, his hand on the bar beside her, gently and half-way boxing her in. “You’re Junior Deputy Elliot, as you are now , and I’m me. Pretend that we’re just in a bar together, and that you’re not a stupid, young girl that was just charmed by me.”

There were a few moments of silence; moments where John thought he might have spooked her off, ignited that hairpin fight-or-flight inside of her, but she didn’t seem like she had adrenaline running through her body; she just seemed to be figuring it out.

“I can’t,” she said after a moment.

“You can’t,” John repeated.

“Yeah. Because—” She stopped, and then said, “we’re behind the bar. If we’re customers, we wouldn’t—”

John couldn’t stop the short, barked laugh that came out of him. The absurdity of the moment just struck him too hard; and when he laughed, Elliot frowned, turning to face him fully and crossing her arms over her chest.

“Well, it’s true!” she exclaimed. “You can’t ask me to roleplay a situation and then put me in the wrong location.”

“Unreal.” John reached up absently, tucking a loose strand behind her ear. “I cannot believe you just completely ruined the moment.”

“It’s not like we were going to kiss.”

“Oh, it’s not?” His hand drifted from where it had been tucking away her hair down, resting at the juncture between her neck and shoulder. The gesture made her eyes flutter; just the sight of that had something pleasant twisting in John’s stomach, this wild little animal blushing from just a little teasing, just a little touch. How touch-starved was his little hellcat, he wondered? How much could he wring out of her, just like this? “We didn’t even go through the whole scenario, you don’t know.”

“I know ,” Elliot said, even as John leaned in closer, even as her arms seemed to instinctively drop from where they were crossed to allow him to crowd in. The meaning of the gesture wasn’t lost on John—he’d seen the way she’d acted when other people touched her, aside from Hudson. The way she threw up a wall or a hand the second someone got in her space. It made it all feel different.

There was a strange moment suspended between them; the air felt thick and syrupy, humid from the storm outside and their drenched clothes and something else, bubbling and fizzing. She would have been mine, that voice said again. Mine, and not anyone else’s. Not Joseph’s and not Jacob’s and and and.

A thick rumble of thunder rolled just above them; John’s thumb skimmed just over Elliot’s pulsepoint. Her heartbeat flickered at the touch, beats after the sound, so that he knew exactly what had caused it. Him.

She still could be our little hellcat. Our little monster. Our little killer.

“John,” she started, maybe by way of warning, maybe for something else; he leaned in, felt her shoulders tighten with tension or anticipation or both.

So good, John, she’d have said, sweet and obedient and his, when he finally got his hands on her, and the sweet cadence of her voice would hitch just the way that he liked. You feel so good, nobody else has ever made me feel like you, I’d do anything for you, yes yes yes.

“I meant it back then.” His hands itched for it, now that the words were turning over and over in his head, now that he was letting the days of frustration and anger fade for just a moment. His voice came out in a murmur. “When I called you beautiful. That hasn’t changed.”

She sucked in a little breath, like she was trying to steel herself. “Don’t fucking play with me.”

“I’m not.” John skimmed his fingers up to her jaw; her chin tilted up like nothing, as though she already knew what he wanted and she wanted it too, and it suddenly all felt like a little bit too much; too raw, scraping against exposed nerve-endings, all of those times she’d spit on his work or bite out an insult into the walkie or dig her nails into him until he’d bled or tried to kill a man for touching her, all blending into sharp edges that caught and tore the closer they got to each other. John would twist and writhe his way in past them, if she gave him the chance—so that he could get elbows-deep in the gore and grit of her, really sink his teeth in.

So much wrath, he thought, when their noses brushed. So much wrath, and look at how sweet she is for me now.

What patience he’d been exerting was rewarded; Elliot closed the last of the distance between them and kissed him. She tasted like cinnamon-whiskey and a little like rain; he wouldn’t have wanted someone less, he thought, someone less wrathful. He liked the infernal in her—he was supposed to be wiping it out, breaking it in his hands and shaping it into obedience, but he liked that when her lips parted and she sighed into the kiss that something felt carnal about that simple, plain gesture alone, because the knowledge of what she was capable of and what she didn’t let others do made this kind of thing feel more.

A heavy gust of wind rattled the front door in its frame; the sound of it, wood colliding and metal shuddering against the strain of keeping it in place, made Elliot jump and pull away. It took all of his willpower not to chase her body heat. Instead, he stayed exactly where he was—perfectly within reach of her, and he thought for a moment that Joseph had been right: she would have never cowed to his methods. This was the only way to—

To what? Break her in? Make her mine?

“I can’t,” Elliot said again, the words brushing their lips together, and this time he hadn’t asked her to do anything so he knew what she meant. “I don’t know what kind of game—”

He felt her pulse jump under his fingers again. “No game.”

“There’s always a game,” she protested.

“Maybe I just want to kiss you,” John offered, and leaned in just a little again, keeping his voice low. “Have you thought about that? Maybe, I just like the way you are when I kiss you.”

Elliot’s head tilted out of reach. He could feel the heat blooming on her cheeks, even in the dark. “Oh,” she said. He waited for an elaboration, and it was several heartbeats before she continued, “You make me so fucking mad.”

John exhaled a sharp breath, hand dropping from her as he lugged most of his weight against the bar top. “It must be so exhausting,” he said, “doing the amount of mental gymnastics you have to do every day to pretend like you don’t want to kiss me back.”

“Well, I—” Her eyelashes fluttered, and she set her jaw, and John could see she was doing that thing where she readied herself for some kind of blow. “It’s—different. When you’re like this.”

“Like…?”

Elliot sighed. “I don’t want to talk about this,” she said, turning back to the crate full of supplies and nudging it out of the way to make room for a second. As the wind howled outside, and rain pounded against the roof and windows, John thought that the most infuriating thing about Elliot was that she’d run her mouth for days and was now deciding to be tight-lipped.

“No, please, continue,” he insisted, his words coming out tight. “I’m just dying to know your official diagnosis of me, Deputy Honeysett. While we’re at it, why don’t we do the whole group? Jacob, Joseph, me, and Faith. You are the authority on fuck-ups, aren’t you?”

“You don’t owe him,” Elliot snapped. Her gaze was hard when she turned to look at him, her words a vicious parry of his anger. “You don’t owe Joseph your blood and guts all the time.”

“He gave me everything,” John bit out. “He’s my brother.”

“So what?” She ground the words on their way out of her mouth. “So fucking what, John? You think I bend over backwards for my mama while she drinks herself to death every fucking day? No, I don’t. I don’t grovel for her affection, I don’t kiss the fucking ground she walks on just because she brought me into this world, and that’s more than you can say Joseph did for you. So I’ll say it again—so fucking what, he’s your brother? What does it fucking matter?”

I don’t know, John thought, his brain scrambling to piece together a response. But nothing came. He didn’t know what to say. He didn’t know how to explain to Elliot that before-Joseph and after-Joseph were so drastically different, and that if he went back to before-Joseph, he didn’t know who he was going to be.

“I don’t,” John managed out after a moment, all of her softness gone. He’d misstepped on his way in, and now those jagged edges were latching on to him; no room to back out and escape her dissection, no room to delve in deep and find refuge in the space between her ribs, either. “Do that, for him.”

“You do,” Elliot snipped, turning to him now. “I’ve seen it. I told you I have. You’re not that stupid, John.”

Her words lit something angry in him—something wounded, something hurt, something that wanted desperately for Joseph to tell him he did a good job and that didn’t want to admit it. “Well, that can’t be true,” he said, “because Joseph didn’t ask me to go back for you at the campground, and I did anyway. So what’s your diagnosis on that , Doctor Honeysett?”

Elliot’s baby-blues flickered for a moment, impatient to exit the conversation but unwilling to relinquish any ground she’d gotten. She is so fucking stubborn, he thought as he watched the tension in her jaw. So fucking stubborn, even when she practically crumbles the second I touch her.

“I don’t know,” she said finally.

“Well I do ,” John replied angrily, “and it’s that outside of my loyalty to Joseph, there’s you, and I want both.”

“Fuck you.” Her words weren’t angry now, but strained, scrambling for a foothold somewhere; not a damsel in distress, but a damsel under duress, Joseph had said. “You sound so—fucking stupid saying shit you don’t—”

He kissed her again—no tentative questioning, now, no delicate pauses between breaths to try not to spook her. He took her face in his hands and kissed her, pinned in the corner of the bar between the terminal and the bar top itself; John waited for any sign that she wanted him to stop, but her fingers fisted the front of his shirt and kept him there.

“I do mean it,” he said against her mouth, fingers threading in her hair, just at the base of her scalp. “I want you too , Elliot.”

“You—can’t,” she said. “You can’t have both. I won’t—”

I can, John thought furiously as he kissed her again, as he felt her tense and then relax against him, like each touch was a potential for vicious impact but it turned out not to be. Not quite, anyway. She still felt sharp, like he had to slide past each jagged every time he went to kiss her, but it was worth it, to hear her say his name against their kiss. I can, he thought again, a mantra. To grip too tight or to hold loosely; he didn’t know, but he was afraid of the departure, so he held tighter. I can. You’re mine, and I can have both.

I will have both.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

The storm didn’t let up, which meant that Elliot was trapped—with John, with what she’d done, with what she’d let herself do. Kiss—and enjoy kissing—John Seed.

It had been stupid to indulge again. It had been stupid to let herself take his words— I want both —at face value because John had proven time and time again that even he couldn’t swallow back the duality of his own existence. The bark and the bite. But though she wanted desperately to pretend as though she didn’t want or feel anything, though she wished that she could wipe the memories from her mind forever, John’s hands on her face grounded her; they rooted her to the earth, and he didn’t kiss her like any man had ever kissed her before. It was like he was starved for her.

A vicious gust of wind rattling the front door of the Spread Eagle had broken the moment. John went to the window to make sure it was just wind, and without the smell of him and the heat of him muddying up her conscience, she could busy herself. Loading supplies, gathering whatever she could that Mary May had been holding on to and hadn’t taken with her when they left, because tomorrow she and Joey would be gone, and she would be able to forget about John Seed and the glimpses of goodness and patience she had seen in him, in equal parts with his anger and cruelty.

And she could forget about how she liked those parts, too, because they felt like her own, like someone knew exactly what she felt and was going to accept those parts of her anyway.

By the time they had finished loading stuff up in the truck through quick darts back and forth, the storm had mostly slowed down to rain. John’s teeth chattered as they loaded up into the truck and then pulled around and down the street to Elliot’s house, the heat cranked and the radio flipped off, leaving them with only the sound of the rain to mitigate whatever lingered loud and sharp between them.

“I’ll wait here,” John said, rubbing his hands together. “If you go quick we might be able to make it back before this picks up again.”

“Got it,” Elliot replied briskly, grateful that he wasn’t going to push to come in. He seemed just as deep in his thoughts as she felt, which meant maybe she’d get some peace and quiet on their way back. 

She nudged the door open and ducked into the house, fumbling under the mat for the spare key before opening the door and stepping inside. It might have been a little bit of a mistake to come back home. The smell of her house —a little like pine and her fabric softener, because she’d just ran a load of laundry before all this happened—hit her hard. It sucked all of the air out of her lungs, ripped it right out of her, gutted her instantly.

My home, she thought, with a sense of finality. Because she would never be coming back. She would never come back to this little house, even if Joseph got put down, even if the Family got cleaned out of Hope County. There was a part of Elliot that understood she would never be able to be happy here, not again.

She stuffed clothes, photographs, some books into a bag. She took the time to change into something dry and warm, pulling socks up and lacing herself into some boots. There wasn’t time to take everything that she wanted, everything that mattered, but she had started over her whole life once before and she thought that she could do it again.

It felt like perhaps an eternity had passed as she moved through her house and tried to pick and choose what mattered enough to come with her; in reality, it was probably only ten minutes, but her grip on time seemed to slip away the second she was in the safety of her house, of her own clothes, around her things.

I’m really leaving . The thought swept through her brain violently as she closed the door behind her, zipping up her jacket against the chilly nighttime winds. I’m really never coming back.

Elliot tossed the bag into the back seat, among the other supplies, and then settled into the seat. John looked at the small bag, and then back at her.

“Got everything?” he asked, and what he meant was, is that really all you wanted?

“Got everything,” Elliot replied. She kept her eyes fixed forward, because she thought if she looked over at John and saw the way he was looking at her, she might actually come unglued.

The brunette only waited for a moment longer before he pulled out from in front of her house and then drove them out of Fall’s End. The bar, the church, her house; they all faded away in the rearview mirror of the truck, perhaps the last time she would ever set eyes on the place that had always taken her back and held her—in the way that her mother hadn’t, the way her father hadn’t, the way nobody else had.

John stayed blissfully quiet for the car ride. He didn’t bring up their moment in the bar, or anything that she’d said, but just drove them diligently back to the compound. It was the first time that he’d opted to stay quiet of his own volition, and she was grateful for it.

I want both.

She didn’t know what that meant. She knew what he was saying—in a perfect world, John Seed would have Joseph’s approval and she wouldn’t want to kill his siblings, and she’d stick around and just drop everything she had spent this entire time suffering for. But she didn’t know what it meant, what it really meant to John, when he was saying it to her with his fingers tangled in her hair and his mouth on hers.

It was early morning by the time they got back to the compound, dawn just beginning to creep over the distant mountain range and the rain having slowed. John turned the truck off, the engine ticking as it cooled, and for a second they just sat there, the sound of the rain in the early morning swallowing them up in the cab of the truck.

And then, Elliot said, “I’m really leaving,” at the same time as John said, “You don’t have to go,” and the silence was really awkward then, stretching out endlessly between them. John exhaled sharply, rubbing the back of his neck.

“If you go, it won’t be the end,” he finally continued. “They could catch you and Joey on your way out. Even if they don’t, Burke got out—this whole thing is far from over.”

“So—” Elliot stopped herself, trying to find some composure somewhere inside of her. “—why are you staying , then?”

It wasn’t like she was asking John to come with them. She just didn’t understand the need to stay and burn.

“I told you,” John replied after a moment. “They’re my family.”

The words made her tired. She pushed the door open, a gust of cold wind hitting her and sobering her almost immediately.

“Elliot—”

“I’ve got a lot to do, John,” she said, hauling one crate and then another out of the truck before stacking them and lifting them into her arms. Her muscles screamed at the effort, but it was a good kind of burn—the kind that reminded her that she was alive. The kind that reminded her she was real.

John said, “Okay, El,” as she hauled her things back to the bunkhouse.

Okay, she thought. Okay, okay, whatever you say, John.

It would just make it easier in the morning, anyway.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Elliot spent the entirety of the morning ignoring him. It was probably for the best, anyway; John had a distinct feeling that any conversation between the two of them was only going to end up tense at best, and explosive at worst. He didn’t know how he was going to tell Joseph that they weren’t sticking around.

Another problem for another time.

Once, when the sun came out, he passed Joey on his way to the church. She stopped and looked like she wanted to say something; even when she finally got around to it, her words were clipped.

“Thanks for bringing her back,” the brunette said, watching him warily.

“I wasn’t going to leave her at Fall’s End. You’re not the deputy I want,” John replied dryly, knowing full well that Joey thought he had some nefarious plan to keep Elliot stuck there. Well, she’s not that far off, anyway.

Joey’s lips twisted into a grimace. She said, “I meant before. From the campground. I know you didn’t have to, and Jacob’s pissed you did, so.”

Oh, John thought, not having expected that. He cleared his throat and tried to figure out how it was he wanted to respond—there was no formula in his brain on how to disarm or parry Hudson when she was being genuine.

Before he could come up with something, she said, “Anyway, that’s all,” and turned to head off, walking briskly, effectively ending their conversation and reminding John that their time together was rapidly drawing to a close.

The morning bled into the afternoon. It was a beautiful Fall day, after all of the rain and wind that had been plummeting Hope County into something wretched. John thought that Elliot had to be sleeping off their little adventure in Fall’s End—another event and space in time that he wanted both to lock away forever and keep at the forefront of his mind in equal amounts.

“Hey, fuckhead!”

His head snapped immediately to the front of the yard. They’d been back since early dawn, but he hadn’t seen hide nor hair of Elliot, or even Joey after their little run-in; John was still stuck trying to figure out a way to get them to stay—tell them they couldn’t take a truck, maybe, but even though he knew that’d slow them down, he also knew that Elliot and Joey would carry their shit on foot if they had to, and Elliot wouldn’t be staying without Joey.

However, the problem at hand had immediately made itself apparent; Jacob, turning a truck off after having pulled up next to the one that she had just emptied out and Elliot, stalking across the yard, vibrating with fury. He could feel it from here.

“Fuck,” he muttered under his breath, feeling eyes turn to the commotion. Faith watched him inquisitively from the doorway of the church, leaned against it with the dark circles ringing her eyes. He took in a sharp breath. “Hold on, I’ll—one minute—”

“I’m tired, deputy,” he heard Jacob drawl as he opened the driver’s side door, one leg sliding out. “Don’t you think you can wait to...”

Elliot kicked the driver’s side door hard , in a spartan-like gesture that would have been impressive if it wasn’t so alarming, slamming it on Jacob’s leg and drawing from his eldest brother a bit-out swear that made John think perhaps Elliot was going to be hurtling herself toward death imminently; and maybe Elliot knew that too, but if she did, she didn’t care.

Jacob climbed all the way out of the truck and closed the driver’s side door, the frame rattling from the force of the gesture. Bad , John thought faintly, idly, somewhere very far away from himself. Bad, so fucking bad, what the fuck.

“Hey,” John said, coming around the front of the truck feeling something close to panic at the way Jacob’s expression darkened. “Deputy, let’s—”

“Where the fuck is she?” the blonde demanded. John hooked one arm around her waist the second she started taking another step toward Jacob—not just because he thought Elliot might actually put her teeth in Jacob if she got the chance, but because he also thought that Jacob wouldn’t skip out on an opportunity to try and teach her a lesson. Regardless, John’s presence meant next to nothing; she pushed at his arm with vigor, but her vitriol remained pointed at the redhead. “What the fuck did you do with her, you stupid fucking caveman?”

“Muzzle your fucking beast,” Jacob snapped, his words overlapping Elliot’s. The collision of their voices in apparent discord—Elliot’s high, frantic note of hysteria and fury brutalizing the darker timbre of Jacob’s voice—clattered around in John’s tired brain violently; Elliot squirmed in his grip, and the idea that she might try and headbutt him passed briefly through his mind.

“Yeah, John .” Elliot dripped the words in a sticky honey on their way out of her mouth. She was practically sweating poison, her thrashing stilled for a moment as she used that same eerie, cloying sweetness she had before, with Jace. You’d let me walk around, wouldn’t you? Except now it was pointed at him, this saccharine tone, begging him to do it. “Muzzle your beast, poor Jacob’s scared I’ll fucking kill him.”

Not how he wanted this. Not like this. Fuck fuck fuck. “Elliot—”

A half-cocked grin split across Jacob’s face. He leaned forward, almost within grabbing reach of Elliot. “Yeah? You think you could do it, little girl?”

“We’re not doing this,” John insisted, hauling the blonde back a few feet. “Alright? We’re not doing—”

It was only them, the two of them in the whole world—Jacob and Elliot, desperate to rip each other apart, and John was just the poor fool stuck in the middle.

“Get John to let me go,” Elliot bit out, “and fucking find out. I know you did something to her, and when I find out I’ll fucking kill you—you and your stupid fucking brother and every single Peggy that tries—”

“Okay, alright—” John turned, dragging the blonde— she’s so tiny, how is it so hard to take her anywhere —and started walking her toward the bunkhouse. She dug her feet into the dirt, but he thankfully had an advantage on her in that respect. “We’re done here.”

With his arms locked around her, and wisps of her hair sticking to his face, he heard Jacob call from behind him leisurely, “Only one thing to do with a rabid dog, John.”

Put it down. 

The sentence completed itself against his will in the confines of his mind. He knew already what Jacob was thinking, but that was a problem for another time.

“In we go,” John said, releasing one grip to open the door. The bunkhouse was empty , which suddenly made Elliot’s venom and anger make more sense.

“She’s gone!” Her voice was almost a wail, and as she pulled herself out of John’s grip she began to pace, frantically. “She’s fucking gone and I know he did something, what the fuck was he doing out of the compound? He hates Hudson. I know he does. He did something to her, John—”

He held up his hands to steady her, reaching, but she smacked his hand away.

“Move,” she bit out.

“You can’t kill Jacob,” John replied.

“Fuck. You.” For a second, he thought that she might actually try to kill him. Her eyes swept over him in a way that they hadn’t before— calculating, figuring out the logistics of strangling him or not, the same way that he’d seen her regard other members of Eden’s Gate, the same way she had looked just before smashing a man’s face in with a shovel. 

It seemed her brain came to some conclusion, because instead of trying to kill him she moved to go past him again, but he was faster. His arm hooked around her waist again and hauled her back from the door.

“I don’t mean that for lack of trying,” John snapped, “I mean that Jacob will kill you first .”

She made a wrecked, agonized noise and tried to squirm out of his grip again, but he locked it in tight; the noise was enough to rattle his skeleton, enough to make his stomach twist, but he held fast.

Elliot said, distressed now, “I have to find Joey, I have to—what did he do with her—”

A frantic kind of panic was spilling out of her, bleeding into him, too. She was going to go out there and try to kill Jacob if he didn’t put a stop to it, and though there was a part of him that wanted to let her try—to see how much she could actually do against Jacob—he knew better.

“El,” he said, “don’t. Jacob didn’t do anything to her.” He didn’t know that for sure, but that would be a problem for another time.

“I have to find her,” Elliot insisted, her voice breaking. “I have to, John—”

“We will.” His words seemed to cut straight through the panic, right down to the grit of it, and she stopped trying to split past him. Her hands were trembling though, the blood having fled them as she gripped him.

“Find her,” she gritted out. “ Please.”

Please. John couldn’t remember a time that she’d asked him like that, with politeness. With sincerity. Maybe she had—but it was hard to pick out those moments in all the rage, all of the wrath.

“I will,” John managed out, after those baby blues had him pinned. “I will, El, okay? I’ll find her.”

“Promise me.” Urgency flooded her voice; her eyes flickered over his face, as though to check for a lie, some kind of tell that would out him; but she would find none, because there were none. There was no universe, John thought, where he would say he’d find her and he didn’t mean it. To what end, anyway? She’d leave if he did. “Promise me, I can’t do it by myself.”

“I do.” He took her face in his hands; all of the blood which had fled her fingers was in her face, feverish with panic. Her breath wobbled in her mouth frantically; it was the first time he’d seen her so close to tears without the horror of a bad trip dragging her down.

John knew that he was toeing a fine line between helping Elliot and keeping her. He knew that he couldn’t say he wouldn’t, or he’d risk ruining everything that had been so delicately built between them—but finding Joey would enable them to go. And then what would he do?

Anything I have to.

“I promise.”

[romanticrising]

Mine//JJ Maybank x Reader

Request: can you write a fic where jj sees the reader, his secret crush, flirting with someone at the kegger and he gets super jealous so they go back to one of their houses and get it onnnn from @sierra-b

Warnings: smut, basically unprotected sex (birth control doesn’t prevent STDs so use condoms, kids), underage drinking, language, teensy bit of violence, some angst, this is barely proofread so that’s a warning too i guess

......................................................................................................................

Keggers with the Pogues were, without a doubt, my favorite thing ever. They usually ended with all of us getting blackout drunk and going back to the Chateau to dick around and sleep it off. It also meant I got to see JJ drunk. I’d had a thing for him for a while, and he was a super flirty drunk. Thankfully, tonight some guy was hosting a kegger in the Boneyard. I was in my room, getting changed with Kiara so she could help me pick something out that would turn his head.

“So, how’s it going with JJ?” She asked, undoing one of her braids so she could fix where the strands had fallen out earlier.

I groaned playfully while sorting through the bathing suits I had out on my bed, trying to pick one for tonight. Since Kiara knew about my crush on JJ, she was quick to ask about our relationship whenever she could. Not that much was happening with us. We would flirt back and forth and tease each other with sly comments and semi-accidental touches, but nothing had ever happened between us.

“Pretty much same as yesterday,” I said, rolling my eyes and holding two bathing suits up against each other, comparing them. I had a feeling tonight would be good, and I wanted to take advantage of it.

“You totally have to make a move tonight,” Kiara said. “Come on, you’ve had a thing for him for so long. I know it kills you when you see him with other girls, so either make a move or give him a taste of his own medicine. And if all goes well maybe tonight you guys will—”

“Oh my God, Kie!” I threw the bathing suit top I was holding at her. 

“Hey, don’t pretend like you don’t want it to happen!” She threw it back to me. “By the way, you should definitely wear that one if you’re still trying to chose.”

“Thanks.” I dug through the pile again, looking for the matching bottoms. “Yeah, you might actually have a point. Why shouldn’t I flirt with someone?”

“Exactly! Before you know it you’ll have him wrapped around your little finger.” 

We burst into giggles as I changed into my bathing suit. The one Kiara told me to wear was a light pink triangle top that tied around my neck and at my back. The bottoms were barely there and tied on either side of my hips, showing off just enough to (hopefully) drive JJ wild.

We met up with the guys at the Boneyard as the party was already in full swing. JJ was where I expected him to be, downing a beer surrounded by people cheering him on. I made my way through the crowd, watching him as he finished chugging it and looked around. The moment he found me his face broke into his heartbreaking, boyish grin that made girls fawn over him. I knew he smiled at other girls like that, but sometimes I liked to pretend I was the only one he gave that smile to.

“Damn, L/N, you clean up nice.” He whistled, winking at me and dragging me into the center of the crowd. He took a moment to look me up and down, studying me. I’d decided to forgo a shirt and just threw on a pair of tattered denim shorts. The bikini I was wearing did wonders for my figure, especially the top, which barely covered my breasts. I watched JJ not-so-subtly check me out, his eyes skimming over the curve of my breasts, down to my waist and back up. I blushed but returned the favor, studying the way his gray muscle tee showed off the definition in his arms when he used his muscles and hinted at his abs underneath. Everything about him was gorgeous, from his messy blonde surfer hair and blue eyes, to the defined musculature of his body.

He shook his head as if to snap out of a trance and turned back to the party around us. That was the effect he had on me— no matter where we were, the minute he focused on me it was like everything else was white noise in the background. He filled a red Solo cup with beer from the keg in the center of the circle and held it out to me. 

I took it as he started a chant of “Chug, chug, chug!” Never one to pass up a challenge, I tipped the cup back and relaxed my throat, draining the sour, bubbly liquid from the cup. It burned my throat and made my eyes water as it went down, but I ignored that for the sound of the crowd, now chanting my last name. JJ laughed as I held the cup upside down over my head to prove that it was empty.

“That’s my girl!” He praised, holding his hand out for the Pogue handshake. I slapped his hand back in the pattern our crew had made up a long time ago and he laid his arm across my shoulders, pumping his free hand in the air. He let out a whoop, shaking out his hair. God, he was hot.

We made out way out of the crowd and to where John B, Pope, and Kie were sitting on some logs around a fire pit. She raised her eyebrows at the sight of JJ with his arm around my shoulder, but I shook my head. It was just a friendly gesture. He didn’t mean anything by it. Right? She wrinkled her nose in response and nodded at someone behind me. I nudged his arm off of me and turned to see who it was.

Kie had been motioning to a Kook I’d seen before but didn’t really know because he didn’t hang out with the really obnoxious Kooks like Topper and Rafe. So, he was the ideal guy to make JJ jealous. I nodded and waved bye to the boys, making my way over with the excuse of getting more beer. 

I slid my way between two girls and the Kook in question, grabbing a can of beer in the process and downing as much of it as I could. He turned around when I tapped his shoulder and didn’t even try to hide the way his eyes went straight down to my breasts. Ugh, what a douche. 

“Hey,” he slurred. Oh, great. A drunk douche. Even better. The things I do for love.

“Hey yourself,” I said, running a hand up his arm. He watched my hand, smirking. I fought the urge to look over my shoulder to see if JJ was watching us.

The Kook licked his lips. “You here alone?”

“Maybe. Would it matter if I wasn’t?”

“Babe, I don’t care if you’re dating the fuckin’ President. Let’s get outta here.”

He took my hand and led me out of the party. I looked back over my shoulder to see Kie giving me two thumbs up and JJ glaring at the guy. Kie mouthed something to me that I didn’t quite catch but I took it as support and followed the Kook into the sparse woods that started where the beach ended. He leaned back against the first semi-secluded tree he found and pulled me closer by my waist.

I wasn’t nearly drunk enough for this but nevertheless I ran my hands up his shoulders and linked my arms behind his neck.

“You know, you’re pretty hot for a Pogue.” I almost slapped him for that but I decided it wouldn’t exactly help me if I was trying to seduce him. Just this once, I let it slide.

“So are you, for a Kook,” I retorted, struggling to keep the edge from my voice. But, he was too drunk to hear the insult and just laughed instead. He dipped his head down and I met his lips with mine. I threaded my fingers through the Kook’s hair, pulling him deeper into the kiss. He tasted like beer but I could feel the alcohol I’d shotgunned earlier already fogging up my head so I barely noticed it. I broke the kiss for a moment, spinning us around so I was pinned to the tree. I caught his lips again in an open-mouthed kiss that was a little too messy to be pleasant but we separated, laughing. 

“Do you wanna go back to my place and—” He never got to finish that sentence because JJ came out of nowhere and punched him hard in the head. The Kook stumbled back from me, swearing.

“Get the fuck off her!” JJ yelled at the Kook as the Kook scrambled to get back on his feet.

“What the hell, man!” Just as he managed to get back on his feet, JJ shoved him backwards. I regained control of my senses and grabbed JJ’s arm.

“JJ, stop! He wasn’t doing anything wrong!” I pleaded with him, hoping for once he would listen to me. He tried to pull his arm away but I held on.

“Like hell he wasn’t.” He turned to the Kook who was already trying to take advantage of JJ’s momentary pause to get away. “Do you think it’s funny to mack on my girl like that?” He kicked dirt in the direction of the Kook.

“Oh my God! What is your problem? We were just making out!”

“You!” JJ finally succeeded in pulling his arm away from me. I balked at his statement. What was he talking about? “You are my problem. You can’t just flirt with me and then go mack on some Kook like its nothing!”

“So you’re allowed to sleep with any girl but if I so much as kiss another guy you go beat him up?” Everything was spinning so fast in my head, and the beer was not helping. I tried to be mad at him for his hypocrisy but I kept getting stuck on things he had said. He’d called me “his girl” twice today, once as a compliment, but just now to the Kook… that was definitely a loaded statement.

“If you hadn’t noticed, I haven’t done that in a while!”

I laughed as a reflex, trying to hide the embarrassment I was feeling. This was really not how I wanted tonight to go. I thought it was a good idea to kiss that guy to see if it would make him jealous, but it seemed like I had succeeded only in hurting his feelings. Wait a minute.

“Are you jealous?” I asked quietly. JJ froze and for a moment I got a glimpse of the vulnerable side he hid behind sarcastic humor and feigned disinterest. He quickly recovered but I’d seen all I needed to. It felt like a million fireworks were going off in my chest. He actually liked me. JJ Maybank, one of my best friends, the guy I’d had a crush on for the past two years, liked me too.

Playfully, I punched his shoulder. “I like you too, dumbass.”

JJ let out a sigh of relief and ran his hands through his hair. He caught my hand and wrapped one arm around my waist, cupping my face with his other hand. He traced my lips with his thumb, searching my face for any sign of apprehension. When he found none, he leaned forward and kissed me hard. I kissed him back, feeling like very nerve ending in my body was on fire. I pulled on his hair and he let out a low moan, pushing me against the tree. We separated for air and he leaned his forehead against mine.

“My place is closer,” I panted, running my hands down his chest. He held my face in both hands and kissed me quickly before dropping his hands again and grinning.

“Wow, didn’t know you were the kind of girl to take a guy home on the first date.” He meant it as a joke but I could tell he wanted to go back to my place just as much as I did.

“Shut up.” I rolled my eyes.

“Make me,” JJ retorted, planting a kiss on my neck before lightly biting on my skin. I gasped, feeling shivers of pleasure skitter up my spine. He moved away so he could look me in the eyes. “Now you’re the one who needs to shut up. We’re not supposed to mack on other Pogues.”

John B: the world’s biggest cockblock. “Fuck the rule. Let’s go.”

I followed JJ through the woods as we made our way back to my house. It would’ve been faster but we kept taking stops when one of us would want a kiss from the other and we would stop to make out before we realized we really didn’t want our first time together to be against a tree. 

My parents weren’t home thankfully because the first thing JJ did when we were inside the door was push me against it and run his rough hands up my body. Our lips met in a passionate kiss that had me tugging at his shirt, wanting him to be wearing way less clothing. He laughed at my haste and tugged his shirt off, tossing it somewhere on my floor. I ran my hands over his chest like I had been wanting to do for so long. He trailed kisses along my neck, leaving love bites along my neck and collarbones. His hands went around my back and he pulled the string on my bathing suit, untying it and sliding it over my head. He let out a soft “Fuck” when he saw my breasts, running a hand through his hair.

I pulled his mouth back to mine, battling his tongue for dominance but not trying too hard. He grabbed my wrists and pinned them against the door above my head. He kissed down my chest until he reached my breasts and proceeded to bite on the skin there, avoiding my nipples. His tongue lightly brushed my nipple and I whimpered, pulling on his hands. He used his other hand to cup my other breast, massaging it and pinching my nipple as I moaned, not caring who heard. I could feel my arousal pooling in my bikini bottoms, which turned me on even more. JJ finally bit the nipple he had been teasing and I cried out, arching into him and struggling once again against his hand.

He switched which hand was holding my wrists hostage to continue his treatment on my breasts once again, kissing the one he’d been fondling before and vice versa. By the time he was finished, I was beyond turned on and soaking through my bikini bottoms. He let go of my hands and I pulled on his hair, crashing my lips into his. After I broke away, I led him down the hall to my room. I kicked the door shut behind me and pushed him onto my bed. He kicked his shoes off and chuckled as I undid his shorts, pulling them down along with his boxers. His cock sprung out, already rock hard and leaking precum at the tip.

JJ groaned as I stroked his shaft, lightly scratching it with my nails. I pressed kisses along the underside of his shaft, teasing him like he had done to me. When I got to the tip, I swiped my thumb over it to collect his precum and licked it off my finger. He groaned again, tossing his head back and clutching my sheets with his fingers. The sight of him completely at my mercy gave me pause for a moment, before I surprised him— and myself— by taking him into my mouth and slowly opening my throat to completely encompass him. He lazily bucked his hips up, forcing his dick further into my mouth and activating my gag reflex.

Tears pricked at my eyes but I bobbed my head up and down anyway. His hand fisted my hair into a ponytail, moving my head further down around him and moving his hips up to meet me. I groaned against him which caused JJ to moan out as well.

“Fuck, baby, that feels so good,” he said through shallow breaths. His voice was raspy with need and the ache between my legs throbbed with every pulse of his hips. I could feel him twitch in my mouth, so I pulled my mouth off him with a pop. He moaned in protest. With a smile, I straddled his hips and leaned down to kiss him, running my fingers through his hair. Soon enough, he flipped me around and unbuttoned my shorts, sliding them off my legs. He rubbed me through my bikini bottoms, chuckling when he realized how wet I was for him. 

“I’m going to fuck you so good you’ll forget all about that Kook, okay baby?” He didn’t waste any time removing my bikini and running a finger through my wet folds, licking my arousal off his fingers like I’d done to him. 

“Please, JJ, I need you,” I begged him. 

“Shit, babe, alright. Do you have condoms?”

“Its fine, I’m on birth control.” JJ grinned at that, stroking his cock a few times before lining up at my entrance and pushing into me. We both moaned at the sensation and he gave me a few moments to adjust before he started thrusting into me at a constant pace, picking up speed as he went.

“You’re so tight,” he groaned. “I bet that Kook couldn’t make you feel this good.”

I moaned at his words, wrapping my legs around him to pull him closer. As soon as I did that I felt him hit a part of me that made my eyes roll back as I whimpered his name. I dug my nails into his back, leaving deep scratches that would show everyone tomorrow that he was mine. The knot in my stomach clenched as he kept up his pace and I knew I wouldn’t last much longer. When I told him as much, he groaned and snapped his hips into me harder than I thought possible. I knew he was good in bed, but not this good. I’d never felt such intense pleasure.

“JJ, fuck, I’m gonna—” I never finished my sentence because my orgasm hit me almost out of nowhere. I clutched at his shoulders, kissing him as my legs shook and the tension in my stomach unraveled. He came a moment later, moaning against my lips. He thrusted a few more times as we rode out our highs, then pulled out and grabbed a towel from my bathroom. JJ helped me clean the cum off my legs and pulled his boxers back on, tossing my blankets aside as I searched my room for a pair of underwear and a large shirt. I crawled into my bed beside him and he wrapped me in his arms, kissing the top of my head.

“We should do that more often,” he remarked, rubbing my back softly.

“We really should,” I agreed.

The last thing I heard before I fell asleep was JJ’s whisper of, “I can’t believe you’re mine.”

[bluesyturtle]

trepverter for Reddie and ignipotent for Harringrove

the Reddie prompt will be a separate post!

ignipotent: presiding over fire

Tommy hosts a graduation party out by the quarry the day after finals. Steve doesn’t really know why he’s invited, but he figures, to hell with it. He’s got nothing else going on and no reason not to go, and anyway, it might be nice seeing everyone all together again before they walk at graduation.

He shows up an hour late, not that anyone notices. That might’ve upset him once, but tonight it’s what he was hoping for, to sneak in, have a drink, and head out. Sure, he could’ve had a drink at home, but even if he has the same amount of conversation here as he would there, a party feels different than an empty house. Noisier, fuller, brighter.

Speaking of bright, though, he notices pretty quickly that Tommy’s party has something Steve definitely couldn’t have gotten at home. Mainly, the huge bonfire spitting smoke and embers and the occasional loud pop a few feet from the water’s edge.

Other than that, it’s a standard setup. Cheap beer, a keg, a few people splashing around in the water. Someone’s blasting Cheap Trick from their car speakers, and a bunch of girls from the cheerleading team are dancing and singing along. Steve thinks they sound like cats, but they look like they’re having fun, and that’s pretty cool.

He passes a couple making out on his way to the cooler — Tommy and Carol, as it happens — and he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t hoping to kiss someone tonight. It’s not likely to happen if he keeps to himself the whole time, but the thought of trying to get them all to look at him just makes him feel tired for some reason. 

There’s a big thing of driftwood blocking the cooler from the bonfire, and Steve crosses over it with a cold one sweating in his hand. He pops the tab and downs it in one go, feeling cold from the beer but warm from the fire.

“You need something stronger there, Harrington?”

Steve crunches the can in his fist and stares at it for a long time before looking over at the shape Billy cuts. All lit up in the firelight he almost reminds Steve of that night his life took a turn for the weird and a fucking monster went up in flames right in front of him. Here and now, though, Billy looks more like he’s part of what makes it burn. Less like kindling and more like accelerant.

“Yeah, actually,” Steve mutters. “If you’re gonna keep talking to me.” He tosses his empty can into a black trash bag already halfway full of cans and sticks.

“How ‘bout a smoke?” Billy asks, and fuck, Steve didn’t even hear him walking over. He pretends to pluck something out from behind Steve’s ear. It’s a joint. “Yes? No? Maybe?”

Steve stares at him. How drunk is he that he’s standing this close and not trying to fuck him up? He’s gotta be trashed — he’d have to to be — except he looks more sober than anyone else Steve has seen since driving up.

Billy raises his eyebrows. “Try again later?”

“Look, I don’t wanna do this with you tonight. I just wanna get a buzz on and go home.”

“Lemme get a buzz on you then,” Billy croons, his smile like a knife and looking more deadly for the shadows playing over his face, making all his edges appear that much sharper. “Or are you not in the mood to have a little fun?”

Steve squints at him. He’d thought Billy seemed sober at first glance, but maybe the joint in his hand isn’t his first of the night. That would explain it.

Some of it.

Regardless, Steve’s not drunk enough to take a peace offering from Billy Hargrove. If that’s what it even is.

“Depends. Are you gonna smash a plate over my head again?”

Billy’s smile stutters, and the weapon of his mouth takes to looking like a wound. He recovers a second later, but he can’t get that blade-like curve to settle in where it was. There was a time when he would’ve felt good about taking him down a peg, but now he just feels like he’s exposed a scar. He’s not sure if it’s his or Billy’s, is the thing.

It reminds him of all the other ways people can give scars — by tearing up a photograph or by smashing a camera. Or with words.

Steve meets Billy’s eyes, Billy who’s gone quiet and squirmy since Steve brought up the fight. They’ve done a pretty good job, both of them, of staying out of each other’s way ever since that night. Steve thought it was because they’d just fight if their paths crossed again, but here they are stood still at a crossroads. Billy doesn’t look like he wants to fight. He doesn’t like he’s been wanting to fight.

“You know,” Steve starts, tilting his head when Billy jumps at the sound of his voice. “An apology goes a long way. I mean. In my experience.”

In the light of the fire, staring and wide-eyed, Billy looks like a kid, but like he’s seen the inside of hell, too. The only other person Steve knows who looks like that is Dustin’s friend El, and he’s got it on pretty good authority that she has seen the inside of hell. 

So what has Billy seen?

He jerks out of his trance to glare at the fire. As closely as Steve’s watching him, he’s still surprised when Billy’s hand shoots out. Steve takes it, perplexed until Billy finally looks at him.

“Sorry, for…”

“Yeah,” Steve says, throat tight with his heartbeat, and with something he can’t name.

“It wasn’t — I didn’t — ”

Steve nods, lost but not. He knows what Billy means, somehow, and he knows why he can’t say  it. If he put him to it, Steve couldn’t either. Billy pumps his hand once and lets go before Steve’s figured out how to follow him in the gesture.

“So…” Billy clears his throat. “You want that smoke or what?”

Steve smiles and says sure. 

“One thing, though. I gotta get outta here. If Madonna comes on one more fuckin’ time, I’m gonna lose my shit.”

And that’s how Steve winds up crashing through the underbrush with Billy and stepping on his heels when the shadows get too dark to see through.

“Harrington, Jesus Christ.”

“What? It’s dark!”

Billy feels out into the darkness for him and hauls him the rest of the way through the trees. They’re close enough to hear laughter and just a suggestion of music, but when Steve walks out to the edge of the bank the woods let out onto and he can’t see anyone. It’s damn near cozy.

“How’d you know about this place?” Steve asks.

“I didn’t,” Billy tells him, puffing once and passing him the lit joint. He drops down to sit and stretches his legs out in front of him.

Steve sits, too. In the moonlight, he can’t remember what it was about Billy’s face that made him look anything but young. It’s weird, still, to be this close to him, but that feeling goes up in smoke, hit for hit. As it leaves him, it starts to feel weirder not leaning into Billy so their arms press in a single line from shoulder to wrist.

Billy flicks the nub when they’re done with it and digs around in his jacket for another. Steve’s already feeling pretty good, but he’s not gonna say no to feeling better. It’s why he’s already saying yes when Billy starts to ask him a different question.

“Wait, what?”

“I said, you ever shotgun a hit before?”

“Oh. Then no.”

“What did you think I was gonna say?” Billy purrs, back on his grinning bullshit, but he doesn’t look dangerous like he usually does. Between the lopsided tilt of his smile and the glazed look in his eyes he looks more at risk for raiding a fridge than he does for starting shit.

“I just thought you were gonna ask if I wanted to smoke some more. What’s — what did you call it? A shotgun?”

“Yeah, shotgunning. It’s the same hit. Goes from me to you. Sharing is caring, right?”

“Sure, I guess. How does it work?”

Billy flicks his tongue against a sharp tooth. He shrugs one shoulder. “I blow smoke. You breathe it in. Easy.”

“What, like, you blow it in my face?” Steve asks, starting to grin, too. That sounds silly.

“Nah, I blow into your mouth.”

“My mouth?” Steve echoes, feeling something warm and insistent uncurl low in his belly.

Billy hums, takes a slow drag and holds it. There’s a patient, oddly steady look to his eyes, the same one he pointed at Steve that night outside Mrs. Byers’ house. Steve stutters and gives a jerky nod. 

When that doesn’t get Billy to move, he swallows and unsticks his tongue from the roof of his mouth. Says, “Yeah, okay.”

He only flinches a little when Billy leans in close and taps the spot under his chin. Something about Billy touching him makes his heart race, and it’s not because he’s scared of getting hit. He doesn’t quite breathe in at the same time that Billy breathes out, but he catches most of it. After, for a moment, Billy’s still close enough to —

Well, they could almost be kissing if Steve’s lungs weren’t full of smoke. He chokes on the realization and turns his head, sputtering and coughing and buzzing where Billy thumps him a few times on the back.

Billy’s laugh, usually psychotic, sounds softer now. Everything about him seems softer, everything but the lingering weight of his palm spanning Steve’s shoulder. He’s got his other hand halfway to his mouth to take another hit when Steve stops him. Their fingers overlap when Steve clumsily takes the joint from him, and that small touch, that slide of friction, gets his heart pounding. The silence that rises up between them, whatever it might mean, makes the blood roar in Steve’s ears.

He’s not stupid. Billy’s mouth was close enough to taste, and Steve wanted him closer still. He knows what that means, even if he can’t make sense of why. Billy watches his eyes, then his mouth, and he only hesitates as long as it takes for Steve to press his fingers to his jaw. 

They draw in closer this time, and the way Steve feels, there’s no way he’s not finding out if his lips are as soft as they look. There’s no way. 

He lets the smoke rush out of him, lets Billy take it from him, and sways in to smear a kiss into his mouth. It’s like standing by the bonfire again, cast in a burning glow and sparking to life everywhere that Billy’s touching him, everywhere Billy could be touching him.

Billy breaks away to breathe and let the smoke go. Steve tries to remember how to breathe, too, but he’s having a rough go of it. He stubs out the burning cherry until it goes dark, thinking, okay, now they’re gonna fight, now Billy’s gonna kick his ass. Steve’s halfway to apologizing and most of the way toward accepting that he’ll be going home with a black eye when Billy turns back to him.

And kisses him again.

He frames Steve’s face with his hands, gentle in a way Steve didn’t think he could be. Steve wraps him up in his arms, crushing him closer so they can sink down together. Together.

Billy smells like a bonfire and tastes like beer. He feels like falling. The kind Steve hasn’t been doing much of lately. Billy bends down to mouth at his neck, and when he lets his head thunk back onto the ground, Steve’s awareness of the music starts to trickle back in. He looks in that direction, listening, and grins.

“Do you hear that?”

“Stay… stay darling…”

“Hmm?” Billy doesn’t look up from where he’s no doubt sucking a mark against his throat.

Steve laughs and tangles his fingers in Billy’s hair. “Madonna.”

“Ugh, God,” he groans, and that just makes Steve laugh harder.

“When you walked out my door — ” Steve starts, but that’s as far as he gets before Billy surges up to bite and kiss him quiet.

[allstarsstorymode867]

All-Stars -Story Mode- CHAPTER 16 Part 3 (FINAL PART)

As promised, I will give you a third and yet, a final part of this chapter, I am serious about it in the previous post today and the reason why I was inactive is because I had gotten the Resident Evil 2 Remake game and I am on the second run right now.

But other than adto, give credit to my friend’s artwork and like before, they are mentioned within the part that you are going to read right now so give them credit for their artwork and enjoy the story!

The Doctor had opened his eyes with a silent gasp, he looked around as he realized that he couldn’t hear or see the infant queen anymore and then he looked down and saw that he was in his old clothes again.

Richtofen looked around the familiar place, he looked that he’s in the hardware shop again and saw that Ultimis Dempsey was pressing his back on the wall when he looked at the Primis Richtofen and then asked: “Slept well?”

The Doctor said nothing but looked around to the rest of the store: Diego was boarding up the windows of the office (which it also leads into the storage unit that connects to the rest of the mall) with Ultimis Takeo who is handed Diego another wood panel board with a vine, he is hesitant but he took and then he then nails it with the other wooden boards with nails and a hummer, forming a barricade.

Scarlett and Shaw are talking with the Medic and Miss Pauling with the plans on how to get out of this dimension as soon as possible and maybe try to figure out what is going on.

Primis Nikolai and David Tapp are talking to each other about the situation they are currently in as the Detective had hardy believed that he and his teammates had come here by muitinterdimental creatures and before that, they had fought a group of humanoid soldiers from another planet and before THAT; they had combated corrupted creatures and zombies that had been turned by the 115th element in the periodic table.

Pyro is sitting on the floor with her legs crossed as they watched people do their part to making the store into a fortress, a one that can withstand an invasion of zombies so they are in the background with their hands supporting their head.

Amanda Young, lastly, was looking at the bear traps almost too directly and thinking what to do with them that Scarlett had looked back to see her with a little bit of suspicion before continuing to talk with Pauling, Shaw, and Medic.

Richtofen was quiet when he recalled fallen asleep before this, he sat there with his arms by his sides before turning to Dempsey and then questioned “How long vas I asleep?” as he looked at him.

“About three hours since it happened, all of sh!t had happened while you’re asleep.” Ultimis Dempsey answered as he crossed his arms while he looked at him as the Doctor yawned.

“Und zhe survivors?”

“I am pretty sure they had got away,” Dempsey said to the Primis Richtofen as hearing another nail being hammered with the wooden plank. “Vho? Zombies?” the German asked.

“No, survivors from the Entrance Plaza,” he concluded as he looked at the Engineer with Pyro, appearing that he was modifying his shotgun rifle, the gun he was modifying was a large pump-action coach gun-style shotgun with a wooden stock and ornate engravings on the metal receiver and he was attaching a strange device on the metal receiver then it clicked, he was attaching his team-colored cylindrical capacitor with an antenna is attached with Pyro and Spy by his side just watching him build a weapon of his own. The weapons he is building are personally from his grandfather, Radigan Conagher, the Engineer's grandfather.

The weapons his Grandfather had made consisted of Wrangler, Southern Hospitality, Gunslinger, and the Golden Wrench. He wished that he would’ve known the Golden Wrenches wouldn’t last for much longer after his little Update but he is surprised that he can still use it after the end of life of the Golden Wrench.

Spy lets out a puff of smoke before saying quietly so no one will hear them, “You have a good memory of building this gun.”

“The file had contained the blueprints that mah Grandfather had drew and he had it buried with him but somehow I had contained it from Redmon to fix the machine under one simple condition: If ah find anything else of interest, it is to be brought directly to him and to not build it but-”

“You went ahead and built them anyway?” Spy concluded as he held the cigarette in between his fingers. “And never told any of us, even our employer about this?”

“More or less went ahead with mah idea of getting or creating new weapons for mahself and ah knew ah was mettling the payroll ah am on but when the Devil is going to be beating on his wife, ah am sure that he will beat onto me with her tears as well.”

“But if they do?” Pyro softly mumbled.

“Ah had to leave the country or kill to protect the family tradition for it,” Engineer answered as he put in the final touches on the gun with a screwdriver to secure it safely onto the rifle. “And like how Stanton had said twice while we barricade the whole darn hardware store, “Timing is everything.””

He places the screwdriver down as he has finished the new primary weapon that his grandfather had built.

*The Engineer had crafted: The Frontier Justice!

“Now since we are in an outbreak in a little town like this, ah think it’s time we do this, Texas-style,” he smirked as he cocked it back a little. Spy wrenches in disgust as Pyro opens and lit a lighter, igniting a small flame as they chuckled.

“Are you just about done now, Señor Conagher?” Diego asked as he took a little break from barricading the window winch. By now it’s halfway finished, the Texan looked over his shoulder as he walked over to the Mexican Spy and then placed his hard gloved hand on his shoulder with his other hand as the rifle rested on his shoulder.

“Finished it right on schedule.” Engineer said then looked at the entrance that is barricaded with one wooden board across it with the support of metal brackets that he and Scarlett had bolted to the wall to ensure that they are safe from the outside world.

“We are armed to the teeth, but I am sure that we will find a way outta here and back on the ranch in no time.” Engineer said as he cocked it back as Nikolai and David walked up to him.

Nikolai looked at the gun and then commented “You had made quite a shotgun rifle.” as he crossed his arms, “Ah called it “The Frontier Justice” as its name.”

David was little intrigued to see the gun in the Engineer’s hands, something that police could but he is saddened to think if Jigsaw could have his hands on the talent the Engineer had for future crimes he would commit yet, he is going to go far to stop him… If he finds a way back to his home that is.

“So, what is the plan now?” Nikolai asked out of his own curiosity as the Engineer was then alerted to hear him say that, “We need to figure this out together, find out the root to all of our problems, undo it all and that’s it. But not until we figure out how to get back with the others first.” Engineer answered absentmindedly.

“How are we gonna do that?”

“Ah had no clue on how except we had known that zombies had taken over the mall by now.”

“And that is the best plan you can come up with?” David asked as he crossed his arms and eyebrow raised, Engineer sheepishly scratched the back of his neck as he held the rifle in his other hand.

“Uh…” he was beginning to say when there’s was banging at the door when Engineer had come to the door and removed the wooden board from the metal brackets and then before he knew what was going to happen next, someone had apparently burst in as the Engineer hadn’t had time to react at the moment that this stranger had closed the door.

Engineer raised his rifle up to scare someone off when he sees a man in his 50’s or so, with a light blue long-sleeved jean work shirt and dark brown pants with black hair with brown eyes, is a six-foot and one inch taller than Engineer.

The Texan had cleared his throat as he aimed the rifle at the stranger, he then saw his hands… Well, his hand and a mechanical one, it looked like it had been made from old video game console accessories and Erector Set parts, and he had wielded a chainsaw to that mechanical hand while in his normal organic one was a short-barreled shotgun.

For something that could be a reason, the Engineer still trained the Fountiar Justice at the aged man before him, Primis Nikolai, David Tapp, and everyone else in the store. If you like to care to know more, let the pictures do all the talking.

[Four pictures are drawn @sampoststuff​ on Tumblr]

*New All-Star: Ash Williams!

The Engineer was surprised to see this man had killed a zombie with a short double-barrel shotgun in one hand as the zombie’s blood was pooling around where it laid after being shot through the mouth, a man of his age was incredible to boot as well. He may be an old man but he still got it.

“Now can you at least one of you know what was going on??” the old man suggested as he rested the weapon, one on his good hand, onto his shoulder once again as he looked at the group.

“But first off, who th’ hell are you, stranger?” Engineer answered with a stern and seriousness in his voice toning the sudden urge to fight this middle-aged man before him.

“The name Ashley Williams but you just call me Ash and I can tell the deadites had already caused panic around and no one trusting one of the others.” Ash introduced himself as he got the shotgun off of his shoulder and then just let it hang on his side.

“Deadites?” Amanda said in confusion, even Spy nodded as well while he looked over his shoulder, “You do mean Zombies, right?” Spy said as a cigarette dangles from his mouth as he turned around to face the newcomer.

Ash’s eyebrows raised a little bit at this as he thought “I guess they are just called zombies in this one, not Deadites.” and then said, “Yeah, that’s what I mean.”

“How did you get here?” Ultimis Dempsey said as he pointed at Ash and what he is looking at the most is a chainsaw, red chainsaw that was attached to his left arm, right where his other hand was and it was being held by something mechanical.

“I had no idea,” Ash simply answered, “I had just woken up in one section of the mall with a Vietnam soldier nicknamed “Bill,” he may be an old man but boy he can fight! I had to find a weapon in this plaza but it is worth it.” with a smirk and then twirls that weapon back onto his shoulder, trying to look impressive with three women in their group but Miss Pauling had seen one small hole in his story, however.

The woman dressed in purple and glasses had asked “That’s nice and all Ash but did Bill know where you were when you’re gone?”

The confidence Ash had was gone within an instinct with the realization of what he had settled in as he cursed loudly “Oh sh!t!! I had left him in Wonderland Plaza! One of those deadites could be there!!”

“Zombies” Japanese man reminded him as he looked at Ash.

“Whatever!”

“Easy there Amigo, this “Bill” character is a soldier if I am correct?”

“Yeah. So?”

“I am sure that he will be fine as old as you claimed he is. He’ll be alright, you’ll see,” he said with a smile but Ash didn’t smile with the same thought.

“You had no idea what this deadite was,” Ash stated as looked at everyone, “This one was like a shapeshifter but a one that can consume and assume someone’s identity after he killed them. He was another normie but his skin was very pale and looked like he had been sick for a while along with-”

“Stop right there, Ashley,” Takeo halts him with his hand raised a little bit to his neck and head level as he asked “Does he wore plain gray hoodie, a black leather jacket with a red interior, two horizontal white lines on each sleeve, and a red tribal design on the back?”

He was a bit taken from what this man said but did answer “Oh yeah.”

“You had encountered that Alex Mercer.” U!Takeo concluded as he placed the wood boards down on the floor and then picked up his samurai sword from its place laying on the wall as Ash protested “Wait a minute, you are going out there? To fight a shapeshifter? Buddy, you had no idea what he’s like.”

“I don’t and it is true but I knew from the feeling I sensed he is no good when we met him,” he explained as he straps the sheathed sword to his belt and turning heel and then going towards the door where Ash came in but Diego Shaw was right on his heels at the moment he is going to go through it.

“Uh, Takeo, are you sure that you want to fight a broke like Alex? If it’s true to what Ash said about him being a shapeshifter and able to consume-”

“I may die but a warrior spirit doesn’t, Shaw.” He turned to look at him, already annoyed at this point and would not hide if there’s a demon that is worse than zombies, this “deadite” that this man is calling him may actually be a threat after all.

Ash then got in front of Takeo and  spoke up “Hold on there pal, at least let me handle this guy so you can stay-” but Takeo walked past Ash and then continued on his way to where he said this last sentence “Here?!”

“Takeo!” Spy was the first one to go after the imperial captain as Ash gets out of the shotgun again and then goes after them. “Lock the door! Don’t open it until we come back!” Spy yelled as the door slowly closed on its own.

P!Richtofen got back on his feet as this had transpired, Dempsey, the Ultimis version if you, my dear reader had forgotten about that, had then asked “What the hell just happened?”

“I do not know but if Takeo is true about Mercer being a shapeshifter zhat consumes…” Richtofen began as he trailed off as he looked up at the ceiling with Dempsey looking at him as he said “Hey, my Tak’s had plant powers so he should be fine.

“I hope you’re right Dempzey.” Richtofen muttered as he looked down at the floor away from the ceiling, he was going to lose it by this point. But for now, they need to remain here until the solution to their problem is found eventually.

6:39

Ultimis Takeo has basically ignored the pleas of Spy and Ash as he made his way to Wonderland Plaza with the two of them behind him following the trail of blood he had made from the zombies he had slain as he walked towards the designated area of the mall, mostly acknowledge one fellow survivor’s saying thank you when he killed one of the undead when it was going for him with the intention of eating him too.

“Slow down there, uh.. Takeo?” Ash guessed as he got out the shotgun from its hoister and then blew up one zombie’s head off with it as it happened to be nearby. “His name is Takeo? Right?” he asked the RED Spy as he was walking right beside him while the Frenchman was reloading his revolver.

“Correct, he is right now ignoring us and we are following him to where Bill was last seen thanks to your negligence.” Spy answered as he finished loading a new round of bullets into the gun he is clenching on tightly, this is strangely new to him somehow as he had never been this intense before, not in the Gravel Wars or anywhere more than here before like in the past or future.

“Hey, I wanted a boomstick, I didn’t know that I-” Ash was then cut off by Takeo as he said “Silence, are we close to this Wonderland Plaza?” as he was heading out of the North Plaza now and entering a new one with Spy and Ash behind him.

“We are entering that Plaza right now, Tak-” Ash had answered but Takeo had stopped with his fist raised that made both the Frenchman and the Chainsaw-wielding man stopped in their tracks. Ultimis Takeo was silent for a moment as he looked around the plaza for any signs of anyone or zombies around the Wonderland Plaza.

Spy raised his gun a little, preparing for what was going to come as Ash unhooked his “boomstick” and then unloaded the shotgun shells and then loaded in new ones that are in a strange reloading type device into it and then hooked the gun back on.

“What is that?” Spy muttered as he watched this man put it away before he responded “Just something that will help me reload my boomstick so you can shut up.” as he aims to where Takeo is looking at.

He then moved slowly as he slowly moved forward with Spy and Ash behind him while they looked around and then within 5 seconds into the patrol, the Samurai whispered “Stay sharp for the demons but mostly, look out for Mercer if he is here.”

“Hai, roger that Takeo.” Spy nodded as Ash took note of the order but hardly paid attention to what Takeo had said to them as they slowly go forward until they heard a woman screaming at her lungs as she stumbled out of the nearby corner and running into several things before collapsing into U!Takeo’s arms as several zombies slowly came out of the corner as they stumbled into view of the three men.

They moaned at they marched forward from where they came from as they took a stand back as they are ready to fight the undead but-

WRA-BANG! WRA-BOW! WRA-BLANG!!

The undead had been hit by a bat so very hard it killed them, an old man was behind the horde and he seemed like a soldier but it was different from what Takeo believed to be an American uniform.

“Don’t stand around here, you three, they are everywhere in this mall.” the Old man had said to remind the group when he spoke, Ash then recognized the old man right away as he said “Bill!”

“Stay sharp, Ash!” Bill said as a zombie came in from behind but Ash already knew what he meant so he quickly turned around and pulled a trigger of his Boomstick.

Blood flew when the head had exploded into pieces, wet red and pinkish-white pieces of what was once its head and onto Ash’s face, printing it in crimson red. Ash wipes his face off of it as Bill was walking into view of the others.

What this old fighter is wearing is somewhat similar to his Dempsey, Takeo had taken note of the William “Bill” Overbeck character as Ash he told them about.

This aged man must’ve been caucasian and had blue eyes and white hair, the uniform he was confusing; it was different from the one clothing that Ultimis Dempsey had worn.

The warrior was trying to connect the dots as Bill had walked up to Ash and then said “I thought I told you to stay by each other, Ash.” as he glared at him as he put a bloody bat down onto the floor.

“I needed an upgrade, Bill.” Ash sheepishly excused under his breath as he placed his boomstick back to its hoister on his back as the veteran had stopped in his tracks, Bill didn’t seem to take the excuse seriously as he adjusts his slightly worn beret little. “Well, that word “Upgrade” is what made you left me here to fight off these slow mother humpers. When I say stay, you’ll-” “Are you with the special forces, Bill?” Spy calmly interrupted the veteran as Overbeck stopped and then turned to look at the Frenchman, an annoyed look on his face as he hadn't slept in a good number of days that had gone by.

“How did you know son?” Bill questioned as he walked over to the group, “From what I can tell, you are wearing the 1st special forces uniform from the 1950’s and from your age…” The Red Spy paused as he put away his weapon and then pulled his cigarette case to pull one out when the old man asked “May I have one?”

The mask hesitated before handing one to the soldier before giving one to Bill as then he got out a lighter and then lit his and then Bill’s, sharing a smoke.

The woman was crying in the U!Takeo’s arms, he had forgotten that he had the woman in his arms until now, he gently lets her go as she was a sobbing mess on the floor but her eyes weren’t matching the feeling she had, they are cold but familiar as he looked at her and he knew right away.

“Thank you…” the woman sobbed in hysterics as Takeo muttered, “You are welcome.”

“Are you-” Bill was going to ask the woman but it happened so fast, sword flying through the air and then blood flying and the woman’s corpse laying on the ground as Spy shouted “Takeo!”

“Takeo!? What in the hell is wrong with you!?” Ash yelled at the Samurai as he took two steps back from the corpse and he said “Rait and you rill see.” as he clenched onto his sword tightly and stared at the corpse for a moment.

Spy and Bill were confused but then they saw it; red, black, gray, and white mass had surrounded her and a familiar shape began to form around the body.

She turned out to be a ‘he’ as Alex Mercer had transformed back into his original form as the mass on his body had faded away after Takeo had attacked.

“That clever…” Bill muttered as he gritted his teeth and glaring at him, Ash looked at the man laying on the floor and asked “Is he dead?” but U!Takeo used his sword to block Ash when he was coming to check the body but still had his eyes trained on Mercer's body.

The wound the warrior had made had begun and finished healing on Alex’s chest. He didn’t move at first but then his eyes opened with a gasp. He then got up and then glared right at Takeo as he as found out by the attempt

“Good call…” Alex couched as he slowly got up from his feet, U!Takeo didn’t move but did reply “I didn’t make a call but I knew it was you, deep down…”

Alex Mercer had got back on his feet and then chuckled as he wiped the blood off of his lip from what Takeo had done to him, he wasn’t used to that attack, Alex had been fired at and bullets riddling through him before in his dimension and they all flooded out of his holes from where they had made their mark.

But this time, this is strangely different to him suddenly when he had felt that pain that had forgotten how that felt but this Japanese man had made him remember that pain.

“You do realize that you are going to pay for that, do you?” Alex grunted as the ‘biomass formed over his arms, both of them as he clenched his fist as he looked at the samurai with intention. “I do, Demon.” Takeo growled as he clenched on this sword tighter than ever as others had gotten ready as well.

“Neenie…” Broken had sensed this was going to happen but she didn’t expect a fight to happen sooner, she had to pick something out and fast. “Meenie,” she is scrolling through one after another screen for a perfect battle map for the confrontation between Masaki and Mercer, it was starting to get good but how can she be so careless to neglect the choice of a map for this fight. “Mimi…” until she found it, looks it’s time for a virus-like Mercer to learn that it’s time to play fair when he is face to face with a superhuman that controls and feels plants like Ultimis Takeo Masaki as what she found is a jungle, best for a map suited for a battle as she announced “Mo!”

She pressed onto the screen and a light flashed when she pressed it with a wicked grin.

Alex, U!Takeo and others didn’t realize that the mall had suddenly turned into a jungle but strangely only two of them are there, just Ultimis Takeo and Alec Mercer but Spy, Ash, and Bill are not there as they are standing in the large branches of the big jungle trees.

“Ash? William? Spy?!” Takeo shouted into the trees but he didn’t have the time to react when Alex ran up to him and then he and Takeo were sent flying and then falling from the above.

Alex threw five good punches but Takeo had fought back as he kicked him and then punched him a few times, hitting him as hard as he could muster but it wasn’t enough as Alex was getting the upper hand as he uses both his legs to push the Captain into the moist ground of the jungle so hard no man could survive the fall like that.

Mercer, on the other hand, landed gracefully on the ground with a thud, he then got up and then walked over to the supposed body of the warrior, his eyes were closed and the sword was planted into the ground beside him, signs of the impact was tremendous but the body was still intact in all honesty.

Mercer was looking at him for a little moment longer but he didn’t get up back on his feet, the virus, Alex Mercer, smirked at this and then spoke with ignorance “Hate to break to you but I hate losing too.” before turning to walk away from the body until he felt something… going through his back and out of his chest.

It’s a thorn-riddled vine, covered in his blood and he’s impaled by it, he was then lifted into the air with a vine before it begins to threw around wildly, smashing him in the trees, the ground and then coiling around him and then squeezed him so tightly he was exploded but he was spared when he was thrown too hard into the ground with a yell.

Alex couched as he was on the ground but then noticed the vines slithered over to Takeo and then one of them carefully coiled around his wrist and then lifted him upward with one vine, glowing green flower attached to it as U!Takeo was positioned upright but his head was down as the vines holding didn’t mind much as the green flower blossomed with a needle-like thorn within, revealing to Mercer in full view and then the flower quickly injected the thorn into the side of his neck.

Whatever green liquid that vine is putting into him has begun to heal him, the substance is glowing as it is visible through his bloodstream and the veins in his neck and face.

Ultimis Takeo wasn’t moving at first but then, with a gasp, he was relieved from the danger of dying. The vine that was holding Takeo had lowered him down to the ground and then had him on the ground on his fist, foot, and knee (I am trying to make this epic, believe me, I do.)

He was panting until he had his hand to feel a vine still in his neck and then he forced it to let go as it was painful when he did that; hurting both the plant physically and him mentally as he felt the vine in pain.

It was too painful but instead, he then focused on removing the vine from him and it did; the flower removed itself from his neck for U!Takeo to see. Seeing the needle-like thorn within the blossom of the flower and then he felt for the mark from what the thorn had made.

The warrior looked down with the thoughts he had never once thought; Mercer had tried to kill him!

He had never felt this mad before he looked at the Blacklight virus with eyes that Alex had realized that isn’t human; his eyes were normally golden brown but they are golden yellow and orange colored as he stands up back his feet while he had ordered the vines to get his sword, vine wiggled the samurai sword out of the ground and then returns it into his opened hand and he had clenched it tighter than ever.

Alex Mercer had fought mutilated corpses in New York when he had released the virus but this does take the cake! This man can control plants!

“Aw hell, this is going to be a pain…” Alex thought as vines rose from behind Takeo, ready to take any command.

Begin! Ultimis Takeo Masaki vs. Alex Mercer

Voice had announced out of nowhere as Alex looked around but the vine shoots out of nowhere and he was able to avoid it this time, he jumped onto the branch on the high point but Ultimis Takeo soon followed with the help of vine that threw him to the virus, with the force of the speeding bullet, U!Takeo had then sliced his arm off and then he landed wonderfully on his feet.

“You rill pay!” the samurai barked out as the vines hidden in his sleeves slithered from under them to reveal them that he had the smilax rotundifolia on both his arms, “Sh!t…” Alex muttered as the biomass started to cover his right arm and then created a sword made from meat and bone.

They both stood there on the branch that supported both of them under their feet, waiting for one of them to make the move, minutes felt like hours to them until…

U!Takeo dashed at him as Alex Mercer did the same with his feet beating the wooden ground with the arm-like blade shedding it a little while the thorns on his vines had grown sharper and ready to kill anything with just a touch.

With the sparks flying, blades of both steel and bone met at the force with both of them struggling to gain strength to overpower the other as U!Takeo had used the vines to support his body from being pushed over while Alex uses his own but inhumane version of it to shove the plantsman to the ground, 6-feet under even.

Eventually, Takeo uses his free arm with the thorned vine to smack the shapeshifter away from him, it was a brutal force from the vine and that sends Alex flying to the other tree that made a little crater in it, U!Takeo growls in pain as he feels it in his chest. “I need to be careful…” he muttered under his breath. “It hurts…”

Broken is enjoying the show from where she is as the Samurai and the Virus continued to battle it out.

[Collab between Icefir (Me) and TikTak ( @this-person-is-slowly-dying​ on Tumblr, give her thanks guys! ;) )]

Mercer was running on a large vine after jumping from the previous one, running as fast as he could to avoid the incoming vines coming from each direction, from each tree and from each plant that Takeo had control over.

He had used his body and the virus itself as the weapon; he is simply known as the Blacklight virus, able to absorb the organic matter of all living creatures and converting it into newer biomass that he can manipulate at will, being able to sustain and regenerate the injuries of a great number, able to create weapons with his physical form to attack his enemies and even generate armor for himself to endure the most extreme of most brutal blunt traumas but now here he is.

He is battling a person that is almost like him but he is like the Japanese version of Poison Ivy from Batman except that he is more unlike her. He was bitter and silent and more likely to kill anyone who did him wrong.

“Is that all you got!? I had fought a girl better than you!” he mocked him in the bark but that only angers the captain more; with a roar, vines are shooting from everywhere as Alex took noticed and tried to run to get out of the way but they were too many of them to avoid them and he was soon found himself being trapped inside the vines and soon felt the life being squeezed out of him with the force of a mutated bona constructor by the vines as U!Takeo’s morals were suddenly absent at this point.

All his heart had felt was rage, the red-hot rage within all he could do now is to kill this virus, squeeze and crush the life out of him for what he wronged him for as he-

“Takeo, this is not you. Please remember the code you learned.”

Ultimis Takeo had heard this unrememberable voice echoed throughout his head, it was frightening and strange that it reasoned to him and that made him think about what he was doing to Alexander Mercer.

He had his fist clenching tightly to control the vines to strangle the crap out of the virus but now he is reconsidering it; what if his family found out? Was he a demon or a man, was there any honor in this?

The more he thought about it, the more his tightness on Mercer had losen, and the more the vines began to untwine, the more freedom he felt. Eventually, Alex was released from the cruel crushing of the snake-like vines and allowed him to greedily breathe in air as much as his lungs as he could.

Pause!

Takeo Masaki was lost in his thoughts as he subconsciously remembered Alex at this moment as he got up and had turned his both arms into claws, sharp claws to chop a man apart but ten noticed that U!Takeo wasn’t ready to fight and felt like something was off. Alex knew why it felt; has reason and mercy gotten to him?

“What has gotten to you, flytrap?” Mercer mocked him again, Takeo looked at him but didn’t say anything except he did say a few words that made the Blacklight virus confused.

“Can’t you hear her?”

“What?” Alex muttered in the confusion of this man and what he said about “her?”, “Who are you talking about?” he continued as he let his guard down a little bit. “I heard her voice but it was unfamiliar, how could you not hear her?”

Alex looked around the wild for anyone, nothing, he turned to look back at the man before him and said: “There’s no one here but us!”

“Maybe it is a spirit…” Takeo muttered that made Mercer even more confused, meanwhile, Broken who had been watching the fight is now visibly upset that someone had stopped U!Takeo before he could kill Alex.

“It was getting good!” she cried out of a fit of anger, “It was just getting so good but Knight had to come and ruin it! She had ruined the best part!” she continued to shriek out loud at the top of her lungs before she covered her face in rage while one of the Hallow had crawled up to her and then rubbed its head on her shoulder.

Broken had remained idly like that for a moment until an idea popped into her, a wonderful idea, oh she has a beautiful deadly idea…

“I think we better spice things up a bit.” Broken announced with an insidious tone in her voice, as she got up on her feet and then turned to the rest of the Hallows who were looking at her for a moment.

“You!” she barked and pointed at one of the Hallows in the area, this Hallow she had called over seemed a bit scared at first but then one of its fellow Hallows just simply slapped it on the back of its head, making it go forward a little.

“Yeah you!” she confirmed as that Hallow walked forward to her and she said “Since I know that you are different than the Alpha Hallows as you are able to take the form of any All-Star after you ate the 100th soul so I am giving you this!~” as she opened her gloved hand and a heart-shaped ball of light, a soul, and then handed it to the strange Hallow with a hole in its chest and if you can see it closely; the one thing missing in it was the heart, only organs and two or three heart valves in the hole.

The Hallow, a False Clone, greedily grabs it and holds for a moment as Broken ordered “And as for the two in the jungle; you know what to do.” while had the Jack-O-lantern grin as she looked at the screen and grinned wider than just a grin.

The False Clone nodded as it ran towards and then jumped into a screen that overwatches the postponed battle between the samurai and the virus.

Back to them, a roar had echoed out in the jungle while they were arguing to each other, which made them look around the area around them, staying quiet and unmoving, hoping to see anything with legs as they now knew that they were not alone in this map.

“What the hell is that…?” Alex muttered as he balled up his claw into a rock-like fist and looked around the area. “I sensed evil here... “ U!Takeo answered as he raised his sword up in his one hand as he looked around before he finished with “Other than you, virus”

Alex let out an annoyed chuckle as he shook his head a little as he scoffed “Yeah, other than you.” as turned back to look at him with the fist raised but then heard a twig snapped just on the left of them. They turned to look at what it was and there it was, a False Clone, a vex type of a Hallow.

By looking at that, he growled “You!” as he stands ready to fight the False Clone with Alex Mercer now standing by his side as he asks “Friend of yours?”

“One of them is the reason why we are here.” Ultimis Takeo answered hurriedly, he was ready for any more tricks from this Hallow as Mercer got himself ready to fight this Hallow as well.

“That’s a creeper-looking ****er, isn’t it?”

“That’s a creeper-looking ****er, isn’t it?” the Hallow repeated what Alex said in… his own voice?! Both of them are in shock at this creature, did it mimic his voice?!

“The demon had mimicked your voice, Mercer?” U!Takeo had questioned the confused man- creature beside him when the False Clone had repeated after him but with his voice this time, “The demon had mimicked your voice, Mercer?” before it giggled and then reached over to it’s back and then pulled out a soul as it held it in its greasy paws.

“What’s that…?” Alex muttered but Ultimis Takeo in a hashed whisper “A soul…?” as it raised over its head with its tongue licking its jack-o-lantern lips before opening its mouth and then letting go of the soul and letting it fall into its mouth as it’s mouth snapped shut.

It slid down its throat and soon the soul appeared in the hole of its chest, they watched for a moment until it was lit on fire and soon it screeched in a howl as its first annettas was lit on fire, soon arms and then legs and then it was fully on fire.

Takeo and Alex had to shield their eyes from the sight of the fire, glowing and ember flying everywhere as the False Clone changes shape and form into something that is merely human; It was turned into a form of a human as this clone was wearing a traditional palette swap ninja attire with bone-like structures lacing his uniform, two swords bore on his and his kunai and katana sword attached to a rope tied to his belt. He wore a mask different from anything that the warrior had seen before.

The False Clone of Scorpion was on his knees as he clenched on the chains that appeared to be red hot as he slowly got up with his head down as they noticed that another kunai was attached to the metal chain wrapped around his hand.

His eyes were glowing yellow as he gripped tightly on the iron chains as his hand were lit on fire, he and Alex had known it the moment his fist was in flames as they both took a few steps back a bit as the False Scorpion advanced towards them.

“Do not panic.” U!Takeo whispered but not afraid as he held the sword in front of him, “I am not panicking Takeo…” Alex harshly forced to whisper a reply as he looked back at him.

“We may be able to take him together…” but then noticed that the creature wasn’t beside him, Alex Mercer had fled and left him there to fight this hellspawn! Ultimis Takeo cursed under his breath at this excuse for a human had run from the battle for him to face this Hallow!

The False Scorpion then got out and sent his kunai towards U!Takeo but he quickly jumped out of the way but he had accidentally jumped off the branch as he shouted “Damn it!” but he was saved by a moving vine that coiled around this waist.

The vine gently uncoils around Takeo and lets him stand on it as he looks at the False Clone with interest, “A Ninja…?” He said this to himself, “This demon took the form of this ninja?” as the False Scorpion took out his blade.

U!Takeo grips tightly on his sword as vines that were hidden in his sleeves revealed themselves as they slithered out of them as he shouted “Face me, Hellspawn!” as the vine lowered downward, ready to throw him into action as False Scorpion is doing the same and getting ready to pounce. “I will send you back to hell, one piece at a time!” he yelled as he was launched onto the tree branch and then the False Clone took charge at him.

They both ran towards each other and then both blades met in a headlock and they both were glaring at each other as U!Takeo gritted his teeth and used the vine to smack the False Clone away and crashed into the tree that made the samurai groan through his teeth in pain. The False Scorpion growled and said “You will pay for that, with your life!” before he got back up but he didn't want to or had no time to wait and see what he did next so he whipped his vine into a branch and then he jumped to get out of the way. As he swung onto the new branch and landed onto it, he turned to the previous tree branch he was standing on with the sword ready but there’s no False Clone on it.

Confused, he looked at the tree to see if he’s still right there but he’s not there either and he had suddenly felt something warm coming from behind him and he had to turn around to look too late.

“You-!!!?” he gasped as a kunai was pressed against his throat, as it turns out that False Scorpion had teleported behind him before getting a kunai out to use the moment of vulnerability against him as he had U!Takeo pinned to the tree where the branch they are stand on was.

U!Takeo had looked around for an escape route but noticed a vine under this man and was thinking of a plan but False Scorpion somehow knew that so he pressed the blade harder on Takeo’s neck, maybe enough to draw blood as he hissed “Do not think it.”

Alex Mercer in the meanwhile had been hiding in secret as he watched the fight progress through and he was silently interested that the False Clone was doing the work for him as the warrior was on the verge of defeat.

“Heh, the creepy bastard is doing me a favor.” He thought as he watched the tension rising from this, “I can’t blame him for that though…” as he began to remember one regret about something in his past.

He had remembered that a mutant, a Leader Hunter had kidnapped his sister, Diana, as he was trying to rescue her but he was stopped by the other hunters and had lost sight of them. He was helpless to save her at this point as he was shouting her name.

Alex had pressed his hand to his forehead as he said “And… then I would feel guilty for not saving him. I had to-” but a kunai was thrown towards him as Mercer had realized but he was able to dodge the attack from the False Scorpion as he shouted “sh!t!” and he used his claw to latched onto a tree that caused to both it and to U!Takeo as he coiled in pain.

False Scorpion had still had his blade against U!Takeo’s throat while he looks at where the virus was, “You really shouldn't talk so loudly.” as he slowly got his sword out from its sheath.

“Better than killing a plant pulling it by the roots,” Alex growled as he looked at the False Clone while he was holding onto the bark of the jungle tree. “But you, you are nothing but ashes!” he shouted to finish that sentence that only angered the Clone even more, and with one swift move, he stabbed the sword under him that caused further pain to Takeo with the length of it.

With one choke of breath through the suffering, he had half-remembered that he had tricks of his own and the vines he felt were writhing under his undershirt sleeve so in a swift choice he made and he used the vine swiped the False Scorpion with full force away from him.

The relief of the blade away from his neck was good enough to allow the Captain to breathe easily for now as he kneeled down to the vine that was under the False Clone and he wasn’t sure that he was doing but he quickly began to treated the stabbed vine right away as Alex jumped downward in front of the man before him as his arms were gone back to normal.

Mercer watched as the vine was restored to a healthy version, a scar of the sword blade stabbing through it was there as U!Takeo’s hands slowly drew back with vines and retreated back into his sleeves. The visible black vines on the right side of his face had slowly faded and disappeared as they returned to normal.

Ultimis Takeo Masaki had been looking at the healed vine before he looked up to Alex and asked one question from his mouth: “Why did you come back?”

Alex Mercer seemed to be unresponsive for a moment but he realized that this man had said something to him, he shrugged and replied “I didn’t, I was just standing by.”

Then, a fireball just came out of nowhere and it was launched towards U!Takeo, he looked at what was heading towards him; survival instincts had kicked in and he ducked at the last minute before that ball of fire could hit him.

He turned to find what it was and with no surprise, it’s False Scorpion whose hand was covered in smoke. U!Takeo’s eyes had changed again as he weakly stood back up from his stupor with his family sword still gripping tighter in his hand that he believed he was ripping through the skin and drawing blood from his palm.

He is not going to lose today, he is not going to as Alex Mercer had stood ready to fight the Hallow while vines are slithering towards the warrior, like snakes before rising upward behind him. False Scorpion said nothing but he jumped high as they both watched him go up and then descending back down and then performed a roundhouse kick to the virus that successfully knocked Alex out of here with a burst of fire coming from this as U!Takeo stood ready to continue fighting this demon.

[Traditionally drawn by Icefir]

U!Takeo growled as he launched vines towards this False Clone but the clone was cutting through the vines to get to him but the samurai gritted his teeth as he kept on throwing the vines at the Clone until one of them got him by the arm soon the torso and soon the False Scorpion was trapped in the twisting vines.

“Stop…” he growled as his eyes were once again orange and yellow but the False Scorpion said nothing as he continued to struggle to break free from the snake-like vines. U!Takeo watches on at this failed attempt, he almost feels ignorant at this substance of the False Clone as he said “I do not think you can get out-'' he felt it before he could finish the sentence. He felt the vines were on fire and the scorching hot aura coming from the very place where he had trapped the False Scorpion.

He turns to look at the False Scorpion in shock and see that he is clenching his fist to raise the greater flames, he hisses in pain as he tries to resist through the suffering to what the fire is doing but it was no use, False Scorpion had burned through the vines as he yelled: “Now die!”

The fire had made it worse; U!Takeo was grown weaker from the burned vines, both physical form using the vines that resulted in them going through the torment and mental for feeling them being burned alive from what the False Clone had done to them.

He was panting on the wooden ground where he was kneeling on with his hand to his chest, trying to soften the pain as False Scorpion walked over to the defeated man with his sword in his hand before stopping in front of him.

U!Takeo looked up at him as he still had his hand close to his chest and watched him raised his blade up high for the sun to shine on it, ready for the kill and U!Takeo had shut his eyes as he was ready to feel the blade but when it was being put down on him at full force, something had stopped him from doing the deed.

A woman with a blindfold had come out of nowhere and blocked the blade with her staff with U!Takeo looked at her in shock and was astonished at what he saw as he was losing consciousness.

"Do you also wish to die!?" False Scorpion said with bitterness toning his rage.

The blindfolded woman said nothing but did say this:

Finish Him.

The False clone was confused about what she meant until he felt something going through his back and out of his chest.

He looked down to see a blade sticking through his chest as Alex Mercer had come back on his feet and had gotten his blade power since he was biomass and had come from behind the False Scorpion. He looked at the blade in shock as Alex declared “Go back to hell and tell the Devil he’s next when I get there!” before twisting it to greater the pain that he caused as cracks are forming around him before he screams in agony and then explodes into pieces as souls that the False Clone had eaten were freed and flying away.

Alex Mercer watched as he stood where he was a while the souls were from 5 to ten to 50 and then a hundred of them flew everywhere and disappeared into the trees while most of them flew into the sky. His thoughts were derailed when he heard a thud from in front of him, he turned to see U!Takeo had passed out from the mental suffering of the pants he had used against the clone but the woman who had defended the warrior had disappeared, like suddenly as she appeared only to never be seen again within instinct.

“Where the **** did she go?” he thought as he walked over to his unconscious body but stopped when he noticed the same vine that healed him before as he was going to reach him to grab his shirt. He backed up when the vine approached Takeo’s neck again and then opened up to reveal the thorn in its blossom again and then stick it into his neck again and once more, his vines glowed green.

Ultimis Takeo’s HP restored. Alex looked at the text above him for a few moments until he noticed the surroundings around him and the man was changing before them as the vine repeated itself from his collar bone and disappeared from existence.

The light dimmed a little as his eyes adjusted to the settled and then looked around the area and slowly began recognizing where they were before, they were back in the Wonderland Plaza and much to his surprise; a very few zombies were coming in. Mercer stood there for a moment before his eyes trained onto U!Takeo again, doing what he was going to do earlier; he grabbed him by the collar and then held him while he prepared to assimilate his cells or… for a better word of this: consume him.

“Alright then,” he muttered, “where were we?” as he balled up his fist and raised it in the air but hesitated when he heard someone yelling from the distance, “Follow me!” a man yelled and heard footsteps heading their way. Alex growled on his breath, “Not like this when I was…” he looked at where they are before slamming U!Takeo back down onto the floor.

“I’ll be back for you later.” the last words he said to Ultimis Takeo before he ran off quickie as Frank West was bringing more survivors that had managed to protect themselves from the horde of zombies. He was getting the hang of killing the undead but he knew the story is more important than just killing zombies all day long and since he had gotten Brad’s and Jesse’s permission to cover this story incident to which he will call it a zombie outbreak in Willamette- no, maybe an undead incident- no… Guessing with just the Willamette incident as he already pictured himself on the news about it.

But it was interrupted by one of the people he saved who had said “Look, there’s another guy and he’s passed out!” as he looked at who they pointed at the unconscious Takeo Masaki on the ground. Frank had taken off running to his side as he got out a walkie talkie and hurriedly talked to Jessie right away “Jessie, I found another one but he’s knocked out.” he said as he placed his two fingers on his neck, checking his pulse as Jessie answered with concern in her voice “He is knocked out? Is he alright Frank?”

[This is drawn by SamPostStuff on Tumblr]

“He’s unconscious but he’s all right.” he answered when he felt a pulse from his neck, he’s breathing softly but not life-threatening much to anyone’s relief. He then talks to Jessie again, “Get him back here now! We have to help him!” as he or everyone had been aware that a vine is slowly slithered back into his sleeve.

[siribear]

somehow, their mattress survived the bombs. the bed frame? not so much. with codsworth’s help, she drags the splintered wood out of the house. other than that, she can’t bring herself to remove anything else from the house. not the ruined stereo, the blasted television, the broken kitchen chairs. codsworth had two hundred years to clean up the glass and wood and dust, but other than that, her home remains untouched.

two centuries ago, she stood in shaun’s room with her husband. played with the mobile above shaun’s crib that’s only shattered bits of plastic and string, now. she doesn’t move that, either. just moves the dusty old books back to their ruined shelves.

she changes into the leather armor in her old bathroom. doesn’t look in the mirror for fear of what she might see.

back in her room, she lays out her new guns and ammo. codsworth hovers nearby, reminding her how to clean them when she misses a step. she replaces her supplies in her pack, hides nate’s wedding ring in a pocket near the bottom, and shoves it in a corner.

claire lies back on her old mattress. she expects to sleep, but doesn’t. every time she closes her eyes, she sees the dead raiders. the ones she tore apart.

instead, she spends the remaining daylight finding beds for the others. it feels strange, looting her neighbors’ houses, but she ignores the feeling the best she can. in the ruins, she finds enough beds for the longs, for mama murphy, and sturges. at the back of one of the houses is a basement, and there she finds a sleeping bag and a store of food that can last them a few days.

she unloads a duffel bag in the house across from hers, and the group divvies up the food. when preston pokes his head in, she unrolls the sleeping bag and apologizes.

he shrugs. ‘i’ve slept on worse. thank you, though.’

she does find a broken water pump behind another house, as well as a small garden plot with the remains of two fruit plants. when she shows sturges, he assures her he can fix it.

preston catches her still wandering the neighborhood long after the sun goes down.

‘can’t sleep?’ he asks softly.

‘just trying to pull this place back together.’

he nods. ‘i can’t either. i keep thinking more raiders will come in the middle of the night.’

‘you can’t defend the others if you’re dead on your feet, you know.’

a chuckle. ‘i could say the same to you.’

‘that’s - okay. that’s fair.’

the smile he gives her is genuine, understanding. ‘look, i know i kind of forced you to help us - ’ she gestures in the negative, but he continues. ‘ - but i didn’t really expect you to stay and help us... rebuild. so, thank you. again.’

it’s her turn to shrug. ‘i wanted to help.’

‘that’s the thing. we’re not - i’m not used to that. not anymore.’ he sits on the curb of the worn down road. she sits cross legged next to him. ‘at the museum, i mentioned the quincy massacre.’ he takes a steadying breath. ‘we were betrayed. first, a minuteman, clint, joined the gunners. they attacked quincy, and would have taken over that night if not for colonel hollis. we fortified the town, held our own for the days that the gunners attacked, but clint returned. he wanted us to surrender.

‘colonel hollis called for reinforcements, but no one came. too many politics over the line of succession after the former general died, i guess. we didn’t last another night. twenty of us made it out of quincy. thirteen of us made it to concord. now it’s just us.’

‘and you’re the last minuteman,’ she concludes.

‘but it doesn’t have to be that way!’ his change in tone startles her. ‘the commonwealth - i think it still needs the minutemen. we can do better. defend the people we actually swore to protect. but i - i don’t know if i can - ’ his previous enthusiasm dies just as quickly as it came.

claire mulls it over, tapping her chin. ‘you’d have to rebuild that trust as well. i can’t imagine quincy endeared the minutemen to anyone.’

his shoulders sag.

‘so, preston.’ she stands, grinning. ‘where do we start?’

‘wait, really?’ he jumps to his feet. ‘you’re going to do this?’

‘i haven’t been here long, but i can see having more people like you in the commonwealth can’t hurt,’ she reasons.

‘haven’t been here... where did you come from, anyway?’ he looks to the pip-boy on her wrist. ‘a vault?’

she blanks. no one would really believe she’s two hundred years old, right? she wouldn’t believe it if anyone tried to tell her that. so she lies. ‘oh, no. i’m from out west. i’m looking for someone.’

‘mama murphy mentioned that. and you think they came to the commonwealth?’

claire kicks a rock on the road. ‘it’s the only lead i’ve got, so far.’

preston hums, thinking. ‘well, i can’t help but be grateful for your timing.’ he looks over at the house across from hers, where she had shown him the sleeping bag. ‘i think i might actually sleep easy tonight.’ when claire doesn’t move to leave, he says, ‘if you still can’t sleep, there’s a settlement over the hill. it’s a farm, run by the abernathy family. i.. remember they requested help from the minutemen, before we fell apart. maybe you can talk to them?’

‘a farm? we could definitely use some food,’ she says, mostly to herself. ‘yeah, i think i’ll do that. thanks, preston.’

‘no problem, uh - ’

again, a name. she makes a decision, in the moment. ‘alice. just - call me alice.’

preston smiles. ‘no problem, alice. and i can’t thank you enough, honestly.’

‘thank me by getting some sleep, preston. i’ll be back soon.’

-

codsworth joins her on her way out of sanctuary. dogmeat, surprisingly, follows her across the bridge as well. alice scratches behind his ears as the trio stands on the edge of the bridge.

‘mum?’

‘yes, codsworth?’

‘i heard you speaking to mr. garvey. i think helping the minutemen is an honorable cause.’ she hums in agreement. ‘and i heard you say - your name is alice, mum?’

she doesn’t respond.

‘would you like me to adjust my settings?’

‘that would be best, codsworth.’

‘of course, miss alice.’

dogmeat whines. they continue toward the red rocket gas station, veering west as night settles around them.

-

post-war commonwealth is quieter, alice notes. no sound of cars in the distance, no sounds of the city. just the wind, the crunch of leaves under her feet, and the putter of codsworth hovering alongside her. a pair of - and she shouldn’t be surprised - giant flies attacks them as they pass by concord’s water tower, but they’re taken care of quickly. codsworth calls them bloatflies, alice calls them dead, and dogmeat calls them forward.

ahead, a wooden building appears over the hill.

‘that’ll be abernathy farm, then.’ she breaks into a jog.

dogmeat runs up to a small pen and begins sniffing around the fence. alice slows and whispers to codsworth, ‘what is that thing?’

‘that is a brahmin, mum. mutated after the war.’

brahmin. she stares at what should be a cow. or, it would be, if it only had one head.

‘you’ll step away from her, if you know what’s good for you,’ threatens a man from the porch of the towering house. he approaches slowly, a shotgun pointed at her chest.

alice takes two, slow steps away, hands up to show she means no harm. ‘i’m just here to trade for food.’

‘right,’ he draws the word out, eyeing the trio: a curious dog, a mr. handy, and a woman in bloodied leather armor. alice imagines they make quite a sight, even for the commonwealth.

‘it’s late, i know. i’m sorry.’ earlier, her pipboy read just before midnight. ‘i’m new to the commonwealth - killed a group of raiders this morning and helped a group of refugees settle in sanctuary over the hill.’

‘that was you?’ he lowers the shotgun an inch. ‘we heard the gunfire, but couldn’t get involved, not after - ’ he seems to catch himself. ‘anyway, fine. i was just wrapping up for the night. what are you looking for?’

‘any extra food would be great. some seeds would help us be more self sufficient, too.’

‘ever been a farmer?’

‘ah - no, but i’m willing to learn.’

the man, blake abernathy, he says, gives her tips on farming. she types in the notes on her pipboy. after, he disappears into the house. inside, alice can see a small light flicker on, and when he returns its with a younger woman in tow.

‘my daughter, lucy.’

‘nice to meet you!’ she holds out a hand, and alice shakes it. ‘you’re not one of the usual traders.’

‘i’m not from the area.’ she shrugs. ‘i’m actually with the minutemen. we’re trying to establish ourselves up in sanctuary.’

in the pipboy light, blake frowns. ‘you didn’t say you were with the minutemen.’

‘is that a problem?’

‘some people don’t take kindly to the minutemen. not after what happened at quincy.’

alice lets out a small, ah. ‘i’m sorry to hear that. oh,’ she takes the handful of seeds and produce from lucy and stuffs them in a pocket of her backpack, ‘what do i owe you?’

lucy must see the blank look on her face when blake tells her some amount of ‘caps.’ ‘do you not use bottle caps where you’re from?’ before alice can respond, lucy, thankfully, barrels on and helps her count out the caps from the pouch preston gave her. ‘it’s easy. just one-for-one.’

‘thank you,’ alice says, earnestly. the new currency will take some getting used to. cap-italism enters her mind, unbidden, and has to wave off blake and lucy’s confused looks when she begins to laugh. ‘just different is all. sorry.’

‘right. anyway, just watch out for raiders.’ blake’s voice shifts to a low growl. ‘they only know how to take what isn’t theirs. no matter who tries to stop them.’

‘daddy - ’

‘mind telling me what happened?’ alice ventures.

he does, pain evident in his voice. parents burying their child. he must hear some echoed understanding in her own voice when she asks what she can do to help. ‘mary had a locket, it’s been in connie’s family for generations. if you could get that back...’ a thought crosses his mind. ‘well, maybe we’ll reconsider our thoughts on the minutemen.’

alice nods. ‘it would be my pleasure.’

lucy grabs her arm when she turns to leave. ‘daddy, honestly, she looks dead on her feet. we have a spare bed upstairs. the locket can wait until the morning.’

blake seems to agree, because he doesn’t stop them when lucy hauls alice into the house.

‘i will guard the area, mum!’ codsworth calls as she crosses the doorway, and dogmeat follows in after her, tail wagging.

[garglyswoof]

At the Seams

Happy holidays Kamille / @songof-thelark​! I hope you enjoy this fic. I lightly used your prompt of her telling him about her brother, but i definitely used it as more of a connection between them than a deliberate scene. I hope you still like it!

She feels guilty that she’s not fully bought in to Nelson, Murdock and Page. Don’t get her wrong, the concept is there in spades, and every once in a while when Foggy’s talking on the phone to a new client in that jocular way of his that still manages to be professional, or the office is quiet as Matt listens to legal briefs on the joke pair of Beats Karen had picked up for him, she is content. Moments of an almost aching joy she wants to trap in amber; fossilize Foggy’s laugh, Matt’s intoxicating smile.

But there’s so much in the way of these moments. Read here or on AO3

Karen stands and stretches, needing a break from the glare of the screen she’s been glued to since 10 am. Foggy looks up from his desk with a soft smile and her heart clenches at the easy acceptance in it. That’s Foggy, Champion of Good, way moreso than Matt if she’s being honest.

“Your eyes crossing?” Foggy teases, winging a pen back and forth between his fingers.

“Just a bit,” she responds with her own smile. They have a surprising caseload, though it really shouldn’t be considering Foggy’s fifteen minutes of DA fame. She’s just thankful their payment is in both casseroles and cash these days, the terrifying financial noose of the original firm’s run just a memory.

“Karen,” Foggy says, his eyes serious, and the suddenness of the change points to a thought long harbored. “What’s up with you and Matt?”

She grabs an elbow, continuing her stretch. Foggy’s pen is still. “Fog,” she mutters with a sigh, “we’re fine. As we can be.”

“Can I get more than that? You know I don’t like butting in, but something feels wrong. We’re a team, Karen. I’ve wanted this my whole life, and when you came into the picture it’s like you were there all along. So please spare me the ‘we’re fine’s. Can I help? What can I do?”

Karen rounds her desk and perches on the edge of his, the glow of the banker’s light Foggy had stolen from his old office pooling on his desk. “I honestly meant it- we’re fine. Look, Matt and I, what we were starting, that’s never going to happen.” She looks down, staring fixedly at the blotter on his desk where he’s adorably doodled ‘Marcy’ in six different fonts. “I really, really liked him, Foggy. So there are times now where I remember that feeling and I get pissed off at what he did. It’s just going to take time, time and a bit of awkwardness when we look at each other and forget.” She laughs. “Or remember.” She reaches over and squeezes his hand, sliding off the desk, cocking her head at Foggy’s sad smile. “It’s ok, really.”

“I guess I’m still stuck on the dream of it all. My best friend in love with my new best friend. But I get it. Just-” Foggy searches her eyes, “you would tell me if it was more than just that, right?”

She responds with a nod because vocalizing a lie seems so much worse. Because the “more than just that” is wrapped up in both Murdock and Nelson. And her brother. And Frank Castle, if she lets herself open that door. She pulls her lips in, brushes her hands over her skirt, and heads back to her desk, wondering when this dream will shatter too.

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

He’s not fully bought into the rural lifestyle, but it does have its perks. The crisp snap in the air, the quiet disturbed only by the susurrus of the wind through the pines, the community in this space where the land seems to stretch out beyond normal confines. He’s made a deliberate choice to get to know his neighbors, to try to begin to gain a sense of normalcy. God, it was like the transition of military to civilian life but thousands of times worse.

Because how do you become human again when you’ve lost your ties to it? He’d tried living with his demons, waking up with sweat beaded at his temples, his hands bloody from the slide of the sledgehammer’s grip, the smell of Maria’s perfume somehow still in his nose.  It hadn’t worked.

So that’s why he’s here talking to Marjorie, who lives across the way in a tiny cabin with the most carefully tended garden he’s ever seen. The tract of land has houses built from stone and timber in the early part of the century, and no electricity lines mar the sky, only unbroken towers of spruce, the occasional maple tree flashing its bright fall plumage. His eyes crinkle at the corners at something Marjorie says, and he takes the casserole from her age-spotted hands with care.

“Thank you, ma’am. You set on firewood?” He says this with a tease - last time he’d chopped wood it seemed that Marjorie’s entire female friend circle just so happened to come by to chat.

“Young man, don’t begrudge them their simple pleasures,” Marjorie says, her voice a rasp to match his own, smiling and waving her hand idly at him as she turns to head back inside. “You going into town anytime soon?”

It had been weeks since he had. Despite Marjorie forcing him to kick his eating-out-of-the-can habit, there wasn’t much he needed out here. Time and books and the sweet company of an elderly woman telling tales from her past, the occasional visit from the taciturn old homesteader who brought his battery-powered stereo and blasted Springsteen to the skies. The guitar he stole from Lieberman. He shakes his head.

“Well, I’ll be heading up tomorrow. Need to keep up to date on what’s going on in the world since it’s all going to hell,” she says, the screen door slamming though she pauses for his response after, and he laughs, ducking his head.

“Yeh,” he mutters through the flash of his grin, that vocalization that’s more out of habit than an actual response. “Yeh, it sure is.” The smile drops and he can see Marjorie’s face soften through the screen.

She invites him for dinner and tells more of her stories. He finds himself returning the favor, stories of Frank Jr. and Lisa in trade for her own grandkids’ tales, and he heads back to his cabin with his heart a little bit lighter. It’s comfortable and safe and he knows it’s a respite, but holds on to his time here all the same. He hasn’t read papers or watched the news or even listened. It would just be fodder for a new list of takedowns, and he’s not ready for that. What he is ready for is realizing that his fight isn’t over. Just how he does it is. He’s always toed the line that is the brutality of death, but the emotion powering his vendetta confused things.

He is not like Red. He is fine with being judge, jury, and executioner. He doesn’t see it as playing god, if he even believed. It’s making a choice, and it is a deliberate one, and it doesn’t come without penalty.

He is just willing to do it.

Will there always be some criminal to fill the gap, come up the ranks? Of course. Thousands of years of human nature and the shit associated with it say a resounding yes. But he sees it like he saw all military work - to support a cause you believe, others may need to die. And he believes in getting the deep rooted conspiracy of scum out of their holes and into the streets.

He thinks of Lewis then. Thinks of the military and what it produces. Billy and Curtis and Lewis and him. Each with their own sense of order, instilled through military. He thinks how he shouldn’t have been there in that hotel, that it made no sense for him to be there, but he had been. Because talking with Lieberman, hell even Sarah, cemented it. Karen’s a sort of family now.  He thinks of her, wonders how she is. Wonders if she’s safe. It’s ok to just wonder.

He dreams less often.

----------

She wonders if he’s ok. Today’s daily thought devoted to Frank Castle comes as her hand grips her keys, eyes tracking her surroundings in the mall’s meager parking lot. She hates driving in the city, but had needed a new desk, and schlepping that on the subway all the way to Queens had not been on her list of fun things to do.

She hasn’t seen nor heard from him since the elevator, the memory of it foggy and displaced from the adrenaline and her injuries at the time. She sometimes touches her forehead unconsciously when she thinks about it, sees his eyes and the confused openness in them, the pain and adrenaline stripping everything away.

Where the hell is he? Where had he been when Fisk was raining terror on her and everyone she loved? It’s not like she waited for him to rescue her, she hadn’t expected that with Lewis either, but part of her...yeah part of her is still surprised he wasn’t there. That he didn’t show up, pumping a shotgun and unloading it in Dex’s heart.

It would have saved a lot of trouble. An agent’s life. Having to hear those desperately frustrated words from Matt’s mouth - god - that still hurt. She unlocks the car door with a flinch of remembrance, slides into the cracked pleather that needs a new layer of duct tape. There’s an old Jeep Cherokee staring at her accusedly from a space in front of her, a mirror image to the one she wrecked. She sighs and lowers her head and breathes, trying to remember what her thankfully-sliding-scale-therapist told her to do to quell the anxiety.

She remembers the look in both Foggy and Matt’s eyes when she’d told them. It had been what she expected, that mix of pity and incredulity and that judgment from Matt and an earnest attempt to understand from Foggy. She also remembers how it felt to tell Frank without saying a word. Because isn’t that it? Isn’t that why she’s held on to Frank, forgiven him with two hands clasped around his back in that hug she didn’t even know she wanted until he’d turned to leave?

All those unspoken conversations.

God, where the fuck is he? Her phone buzzes an interruption, juddering in the console where she’d stashed it.

“Karen Page,” she says, old habits from the paper dying hard.

“Ms. Page, free for dinner tonight? I know it’s a bit last minute but Lily’s been asking you to come visit for ages and I’m making Chicken Parmigiano and the kitchen smells fantastic and I thought of you.” A pause. “And that sounded incredibly wrong. But the offer stands.”

Karen smiles at Ellison’s awkward delivery. He’s really trying to regain her friendship, and the warmth of that realization suffuses from her heart through her chest.

“I would love to smell like Chicken parm,” she teases and checks the console’s clock. “What time?”

“An hou-”

She interrupts him. “And no matchmaking this time, right? I want to make that perfectly clear.”

Ellison laughs without a hint of embarrassment. “I promise I’ll give you fair warning if I try to set you up again. Though I have to say Karen, I thought you and Jason were gr-”

“OK yep, see you in an hour. Gotta go!” She cuts him off brightly and shifts the now-warm car into gear. It’ll take her most of the hour to get through Manhattan’s tangled streets, and she turns on her radio, grateful she has control courtesy of the free stereo repair from one of their lower-income clients.

Ellison greets her at the door with searching eyes and she pastes on the most sincere smile she can manage. It’s exhausting having people care, she thinks, then lets out a real laugh at the thought. It seems to appease Ellison as he takes her coat, the sound of Sinatra floating through the hall.

It’s just as comfortable as last time. She tells them about Nelson, Murdock & Page while Lily browbeats Ellison for letting her go, Ellison pulls a serious face as Lily brings out the dessert, “Tiramisu, from Geno’s. Mitchell can’t make desserts worth a damn.”

“What’s that face for,” Karen says suspiciously and Ellison leans over, fingers steepled below his chin. He stares at her for a moment as if composing what to say, so when he barks the words out, Karen jumps with their suddenness.

“Freelance. You up for it?”

She freezes and cants her eyes down, folds in on herself, hunched over her dessert. “I won’t tell you who he is.”

“I will never ask you that, not anymore.” His voice is warm, understanding, and she lifts her head to catch the softness in his eyes. Lily pushes back from the table and busies herself in the kitchen.

“I won’t give you Frank Castle either,” Karen says, steel in her voice, emboldened by his reaction.

“Karen, the attack on the bulletin messed with me hard. He attacked my family, in my home. A home as real as this one,” Ellison says, spreading his arms wide. “It put my trust in you to the test, because I know what I saw and heard and I know your tendency to-”

“To what?”

His mouth is open, lips moving to find the words. He knows he’s said the wrong thing and looks away to compose himself. “Karen, you’ve got a heart bigger than any I’ve known, and courage in spades, and you put yourself on the line for a story.” He shakes his head with a scoff. “That sounds like a hallmark card. Let me frame it another way. You are ruthless.”

Her eyes widen and her head shifts back, the words a blow. “Wh-what?”

“You’re ruthless in pursuit of a story. In protection of a source. In trusting in someone that’s earned it in your eyes despite evidence that would send someone else running.” Sinatra croons about flying to the moon as Ellison’s eyes catch hers. From the kitchen comes the smell of brewing coffee and Karen closes her eyes. “It’s a good thing. But it’s also a terrifying thing. It’s high stakes to trust you.” He holds up his hands in defense at her expression. “But I do, and I’m sorry that I didn’t show that. I’m showing it now. No Daredevil, no Frank Castle, no whomever comes next because apparently you’re a superhero slash villain magnet. Not unless it’s on your terms.”

Her whole body sags with relief and Ellison’s lip twitches in a half-smile hidden by his beard. Lily comes back to the table with freshly-brewed decaf, Karen smiling over her mug and trying hard not to think of diners and busted faces and what came after.

Where the hell is he?

It’s close to eleven when she finally heads up the stairs to her apartment, fishing out her keys from her purse as she sings Sinatra in a soft, out-of-key lilt. She’s at the stairs, the faint sound of music filtering down from her floor, which is a bit of a surprise. It’s usually pretty quiet, the building mainly full of retirees. She’d inherited the rent-controlled apartment from her grand aunt - there was no way in hell she could’ve paid Matt’s rent on top of a normal New York rent, even living out in Queens.

♫No matter who you are♫

Her step stutters and she dives a hand in her bag despite what the song playing must mean. Has to mean, right? She rounds the stairs and it’s there, sifting out from her apartment.

♫ Shining bright to see ♫

It feels a dream, and her steps are measured, one in front of the other as she approaches the door like it’s going to warp her to another dimension. Her hand lifts as if to knock before she shakes her head at the ridiculousness and places the key in the lock, the scrape of it echoing down to her toes. She pushes the door open, eyes scanning, her view of the living room frustratingly blocked by all her bookcases, but she doesn’t have to wait.

Her name is a rumble in his throat and her heart quakes.

“Karen.”

“Hi Frank,” she says in a clipped voice. “Drink? Oh, you’ve brought your own.” There’s a bottle of domestic she’d never buy in his grip. His hair is longer, not quite as full as his hipster ‘do, but definitely not the close shave she associates with The Punisher. His beard has made a return, close-cropped this time, and she knows these things are a conscious choice on his part, a way to separate himself.

“So what brings you by? I don’t work for the paper anymore so can’t help you as much these days.” She pulls her lips in, tucks an errant lock of hair behind her ear. Turns off the stereo god that song. Fidgeting. Pissed.

“I’m sorry.” It’s unexpected, this apology, and it breaks the floodgates of her thoughts.

“Where were you? Fisk fucked up so many lives. A good agent died. Many good agents. Blackmail and death. I thought this would be prime Punisher territory or is it because it doesn’t connect with your fam-” She stops. Too late.

He stands, his hurt and anger propelling him out of the seat. His voice is an open wound. “Guess you missed the memo when you became family, Karen.”

“I’m sorry, i had no right to say that. It’s not even-” she pauses, closes her eyes, her mouth stuttering as she tries to form her thoughts. What did he mean? “It’s not what I really think. I’m just angry, and I have no right to be. I have no claim on you.”

“But you do, Karen. You’re family. And I should have left some way to get in touch. I went off the grid, trying to figure it out, trying to change, trying to put that past behind me.” He’s at her bookshelves, scanning the titles. The window Matt uses to break in is to his side, the lights of the city bright and crisp in the fall air.

Her voice still holds tension, her question tight. “And did you?”

“No.” It’s as long of an answer as he’s willing to give right now, and she shakes her head in response, breath blowing out her nose.  He abandons the shelves, scrubs a hand over his face. “I- I’m glad you’re safe Karen.”

She’s staring at him, her eyes hard with the weight of emotion, and she launches herself at him. He’s prepared this time, his arms circling around her, hand up to touch the silk of her hair, feeling the rabbit pulse of her heart against his chest.

She pulls back first and he’s reluctant to release her. She turns and sits on the edge of the couch, fiddling with something on the coffee table’s burled wood. Her laugh is self-deprecating. “My old boss called me ruthless tonight. And I thought, ‘you don’t even know the half of it’.”

He crosses the room, avoiding the spot that always trips her, where the rug curls up. He always knows where he is, moving with a grace that belies his bulk. “Maria used to call me that.” He laughs. “Ruthless. Said I focused on one thing so hard I forgot what else was around.”

“Do you think she was right?”

“Depends on what you define ‘one thing’ as. What she meant it as? Nah. I disagreed, didn’t tell her that though.” His face is in shadow and she reaches to turn on the light. He squints until his eyes adjust. “Things were rocky those last couple tours. I was taking it home with me. So I just kinda took whatever she said. She was a real ballbuster, she was.” His smile is far away and he shakes his head like he’s shaking off a blow. “Didn’t mean to interrupt. Just reminded me.”

“It’s ok.” Her voice is soft. She spins her bottle on its edge, studying the condensation ring on the table. She’d forgot to put coasters out.

“What is it, Karen?”

She laughs once, an unhumorous huff, and then the words scratch out of a warring throat. “When I was nineteen, I killed my brother.”

--------

Frank had missed the city, the sounds and horrid fucking smells and the people and the sheer controlled chaos of the streets. So he feels at home in this weekly cash-up-front rental, his police scanner a low murmur in the background, the sirens and accented shouts are the background to his thoughts.

He’d swung by Curtis’ place, the man’s face still bearing the scars of Lewis’ brutality, and Curtis had tried to pry in that subtle, vet-meeting, questioning way which Frank had mostly dodged. He was getting soft, all these deep conversations and heart-to-hearts, swear to god. But Karen, she-

He’d known there was something, a darkness in her that called to his own, however goddamned sparkly vampire that sounded in his head. Just something off, then. Simple as like calls to like. He’d been wrong about her and Red. He wouldn’t be able to hold on to her, not with the pedestal he’d put her on.

Sometimes you’ve gotta recognize the darkness in others so you can understand it. It was something he’d started to teach Lisa, when that asshole bully at school tried to make her life miserable. He’d taught her how to recognize it, and at the right time, to use that understanding to make the bully stop. Her face as she ran off the bus that first day she’d stood up to him, running up into Frank’s arms with that grin so much like Maria’s it hurt, god.

So many things in that smile. A darkness in its own right.

He shook his head, picked up the book Karen had let him borrow, a gesture that made him smile himself, now, because it spoke of tomorrow. She’d joked that she’d put flowers in her window when she wanted the book back.

He hadn’t been sure if he was fooling himself with her friendship, not with the deaths on his hands, but she’d all but screamed her acceptance at him, and who was he to argue when it felt so good to feel connected to someone?

He isn’t stupid. She is a beautiful woman and they are clearly attracted to one another. But it isn’t why she’s family.

She’s family because she is ruthless, and so is he.

------

The new modus operandi of Nelson, Murdock and Page isn’t much different than the old one, they’re just more obvious about it. They still help those who aren’t getting a fair legal shake, and with that comes the inevitable investigation that uncovers the seedy underbelly of Hell’s Kitchen and beyond.

It’s a system that works surprisingly well. A dream scrawled on a napkin come to life. She looks into the cases, digging deep on the angles and motives. Matt does nighttime reconnaissance and rules the jurists’ box with compelling arguments. Foggy quotes legal precedent like it’s a Jeopardy category he’s just won.

And while they’re doing good work, a part of her wonders if they could do more, especially when they begin to realize something’s horning in on Fisk’s old territory. Something big. There’s whispers of it in the Kitchen, talk of a crime family with deep pockets and an even deeper streak of violence. She takes her work home with her, files she’s pulled from legal records, info from The Bulletin’s database. There’s a whiteboard in her kitchen that looks like a conspiracy theorist’s dream.

She brings it into the office, expecting Foggy to laugh, but he just calls them Team Awesome and moves a pushpin around.

“Seriously Karen, I’ve dreamed about this moment. You-” he points at her, “are helping Foggy Nelson realize a life’s dream.” He puts his hands in his pockets and leans back, observing. “Wow. It really does make things clear. I resolve we have this at all future Nelson, Murdock and Page meetings. By the way - we’ve got enough petty cash to pay for your investigator’s license. We should make this legal, huh?”

Matt smiles at her pleased surprise. “You’re part of our dream now, Karen. You didn’t think you’d escape did you?”

And despite all the bs between them, the shadow of his lies and those months where they’d presumed him dead and that desperate hopeful act of paying his rent, her smile at Matt is real, and the gleam in her eyes is too.

“Yeah, so,” she brushes the front of her skirt, motions to Matt, “when you got that name a few weeks ago, Blackwing, that broke things open.” She points to an article pinned in the upper right. “We’re dealing with the Maggias. An international crime organization that saw an opportunity in a Fisk-less New York. But look here,” she points to a picture with two strands of yarn leading from it. “This girl. If we get to her…” She trails off at their expressions. “What?”

“You are not going to directly involve yourself in this, Karen.” Matt’s the first to say it, but Foggy’s looking at her with the same stern face.

“Wait, what?”

“You can’t pull a Fisk on us again, we have to let law and research and Matt’s reflexes build our case for it.”

She’s pissed her actions have become a noun and says so.

“Look Karen, it’s hard enough to let a guy with supernatural reflexes out there and not worry to death,” Foggy’s saying, but she’s tuning him out. Because it’s what she expected from them, this overprotectiveness that will result in saving her life and hurting others. But she nods, they deserve her at least making the effort.

And so she does, tries to work on another angle for a few days, but the dangling possibility of investigating the crime lords’ mistress holds too much promise. She leaves work early, feigning cramps, a sadly still relevant way to avoid any questions from the boys.

She’s home in forty minutes, and is a whirlwind of activity, grabbing a notebook, pulling out some spare ammo from a drawer. When he speaks, her heart leaves her body.

“Going somewhere?”

She explains.

“Do you have a death wish Karen?” He asks as if he already knows the answer.

“No. Yes. Not really,” she answers and he nods, because it’s the truth. The question is the wrong one. It’s not about having a death wish. It’s something tangled up in a lack of self-preservation and her own sense of self-worth. Add a dash of genuine rage. Stir.

“Matt sees it as selfish,” she says suddenly. “I know he does. He said the same to me when he had to rescue me at the church. I blew his chance at Fisk because of my own bravado. God Frank, he was so mad.”

Frank stands during this, stalking towards her with an angry set to his jaw. “It sounds like me and Red need to have a talk.” He grabs her hands, holds them up so her palms are facing the ground, fingers pointing down in his grip. “You don’t have a death wish. And you’re not selfish. You follow your gut. You’re ruthless.”

Her eyes shine at this reminder of their talk, but she’s not ready to let go of her thoughts just yet. “But part of me thinks he’s right. When I go with my gut, people die. My brother. Ben. Father Lantom. So maybe I go, and i don’t involve anyone.”

“Is that what this is?” He lets go of a hand, circles his own in the air in reference to her frenetic packing. “You going off on your own? It didn’t work with Lewis, it’s not gonna work here.” She pulls from his grip, and he’s surprised at the anger on her face.

“So I just sit here, while the Maggias slip into Fisk’s shoes?”

He holds her gaze while shaking his head slowly. “Never said that, Karen. Wouldn’t say that.” The groove between his brows deepens and he cocks his head to the side, considering. He starts to say something, but his thoughts haven’t caught up to his voice and it comes out a low murmured rasp.  “You...Karen.” He pauses, his eyes darting around the room as he thinks. “You’ve got this thing about you. Like a pitbull. You don’t let go. And yeah, maybe it’s like Ellison says, you’re ruthless. You’ve got the killer instinct.”

She watches him without expression, her arms clasped across her body. A door creaks and slams closed nearby and she wonders at how normal it feels, Frank in her apartment. She stays silent, unsure if it’s more because she’s afraid of what he’ll say or that she needs it so much.

“Could your law friends dismantle this in a few years? Sure. Could Red beat up and threaten folks in the Kitchen until he gets lucky? Sure. But waiting means more people die. And you get that.”

Karen looks up sharply and Frank’s gaze narrows on her own. “Sometimes you gotta do something crazy to get results and you-” he breaks the stare, his teeth flashing in a smile that crinkles the corners of his eyes, “you don’t even pause to think about it. You just do, Karen.” He turns back to her, his brow clear, his stare piercing. “Now how’s somebody gonna say that’s selfish? Here’s the thing. You’re always left with the aftermath, but what if you hadn’t made your choices?”

“My brother would still be alive. Ben.”

“Bullshit. Your brother would be dead at your boyfriend’s hands, from what you told me. Ben might be alive but Fisk would’ve killed someone else. You uncover stuff, you worry it between your teeth. Pitbull, Karen.”

She smiles at this. “I’ve always loved dogs.”

“Heh.” Frank walks back to the couch, takes a pull off the beer sitting there. “So what’s this plan that’s got your lawyer friends in a tizzy?” He says the last word mockingly and circles the bottle in the air, an encouragement to speak.

She relaxes into another sort of tension, borne of facts and research. Turns towards the kitchen, grabs a Fat Tire from the fridge and sits down next to Frank. She watches his profile as he takes a drink, his throat working beneath the sharp cut of his jawline.

“The Maggias are divided right now. A bunch of hot-heads scrambling for power left in the void Fisk’s arrest made. And-” she says this last word like it’s a revelation, “two of them are after the same girl.”

Frank is nodding. “The mistress angle. Nice. She’s gotta be under a helluva lot of protection then.”

“Maybe,” Karen concedes, “but she’s not part of the family. From what I can tell she has no idea what they’re into, so if she has protection it’s well hidden. I want to talk to her. I want her to start asking questions. I want her questions to scare them into making a false move.”

“Is she...with both of them?”

“No. Neither. I think she senses something. But they’re obsessed.”

“That makes it easier to convince her. But what’s after that? Let’s assume she tells them, and they spook. So what?” He turns his body towards her, raises his bottle and ducks his head. “You acting as bait? That’s not gonna work with these guys.”

Karen looks down, her hands tangled in her lap. “Do -” she pauses, takes a sip of beer, “do you want to help?”

He stares at her and the silence stretches. She ventures a glance at him, and his eyes are tracing the planes of her face, his mouth open, his head nodding in a rhythm that speaks less of an acknowledgment than a means to think.

Frank breaks the silence with a croak of laughter, his head ducked down and that flash of teeth shining and it surprises her into her own laugh, though she’s unsure why she is.

“Just thinking last year I’d tell you hell no, I work alone. But maybe this is the new me. The new Frank.” His eyes dim for a moment. “I don’t pull punches Karen. If I help you, people will die. That part of me isn’t gone, never will be. But you know this. Right?” He looks up at her and there’s a vulnerability there that he’d deny if she pointed it out.

And that’s part of both of their stories, she thinks. Reaching out unconsciously to someone who just might understand. It’s human nature to want connection despite what terrors your own mind commits. And Frank may think his are on a different level - maybe they are - but she doesn’t see it that way. And she tells him so.

His face hardens for a moment in that inexplicable instinct to deny acceptance freely given, but his brow clears at her fierce expression. “Shit, Karen, you’re a firebrand,” there’s a smile in his voice. “So then,” he sets his beer down, holds his hand out. His fingers slide up her wrist when they shake and she shivers, unbidden.

“Partners?” He says and darts his eyes away, and her mouth curls up in the lightest of smiles as she responds.

“Sounds like a plan.”

[missblissy]

Could I please get a Arthur request of 03 - meet cute (fluff writing prompts)? Arthur is supposed to be out debt collecting, but gets intoxicated and stumbles into a stranger's (reader's) home in the middle of the night. It can be angsty, but fluffy at the end if that's okay?

Cotton Candy Fluff Writing Prompts

Send me a number 1 thru 50 for a word that I’ll use to write a fluffy headcanon, drabble, or starter. Send 🔄  for a random number instead. WARNING: some prompts listed are NSFW. (SOURCE)

03. — meet cute

((I will do my best anon!! Thank you for asking!! THIS IS REALLY LONG WHY DO I KEEP WRITING SO MUCH SOMEONE STOP ME))

You were trying your best to keep the peace. Your father was screaming loudly while you held your brother back. It wasn’t easy since he was twice your size and strength. You wished you could have avoided this, you wished you didn’t love them enough to get between them.

“Stop!” You pleaded, looking at your brother, “He’s drunk just leave him be!” You kept your back to your father, who was smirking like a sad bastard. He had said something rude to tick your older brother off, something about your mother. She was long since dead, and you missed hear every day, but you were adults now, living at home while trying to run away. 

Your brother looked down at you, outraged then back to your father. You were always the voice of reason, so he listened and backed off. He made a sound of disgust then spit at the floor before he left the kitchen. You were left alone with your father, a useless drunk who spent all the money you’d made -again- on those bottles of whiskey he had gotten. You were thankful your father was just a useless drunk, not an evil or abusive one. He’d rather make sick jokes and drink and sleep all day they work up a sweat trying to beat someone. He was more of a drunk coward with a big mouth. He never used to be that way, but you couldn’t change him back to the man he used to be.

It hurt, having to deal with this so often. This was the second fight today. You left your excuse of a father in the kitchen as you wandered outside to your back porch. A cigarette would taste so good right now.

You sat down on the porch swing and lit up the cigarette. The farm was dead as always. All the animals sold, the barn about to collapse, the fences rotting away. It was awful. You hated looking at the ghost of your own home. You had to curse your own father after your mother died, everything turned to shit. Your father turned to drink and sold all the animals cause he didn’t want to take care of them. You were just a child then, so you didn’t have much say. 

As you puffed away on your cigarette, you hear a noise. It sounded like rustling bushes off in the distance. You ruled it out to be some animal. You took another drag just as the sound of metal clanking around rushed out from the darkness. You could barely see this late at night. You heard a crash then someone curse out. A voice?

Hell… You groaned under your breath, flicking your half burnt cigarette away. God damn it. Why today? Why now? You didn’t want to deal with freeloaders. It didn’t happen very often, but most lowlives clung to your abandon farm, not realizing that yes, someone lived in that shitty little shake up the hill, and yes, this was someone’s land. 

You grabbed the shotgun hidden under the porch, it was the only weapon left in the house and you made sure to keep it from your brother and father. They were both sort of useless and stupid in their own way. Perhaps that’s why you stayed here, they’d die without you.

The sound came from the barn, which was halfway between standing and falling, and leaned heavily to the left. You made sure to bring a lantern with you, clipping it to your side as both hands worked to aim the shotgun. 

You got to the barn doors, pumped the shotgun making it clear you were there, and yelled, “Get out!” SIlence. You weren’t messing around, you fired the gun in the air then pumped it again, “I said get out of there!! Don’t make me waste my bullets on cleaning this place out!”

You didn’t know or really see who was in there, but you could hear shuffling and a low grumble, “I’m leaving, I’m leaving!” A man, you could tell by how low the voice was. You watched a shadow move around in the barn, it didn’t have any doors on it so you saw right inside.

As the man drew closer, you could finally see who was trespassing on your land. He was tall, much taller than you and bigger than you expected. He was covered in weapons. You were beyond surprised to see a man so filled to the teeth with guns act so passive.

His hands were halfway up, hovering around his chest and palms flat out. He was surrendering and stumbling around too. You could tell this man was drunk, you knew the look all too well. He finally spoke, but you couldn’t see his face, he kept it well hidden by the rim of his hat, “I’m sorry,” His voice was rough and sloshy, “I didn’t think anyone lived here,” 

You kept your shotgun aimed at him, right at his chest. From the low light of your lantern, you could make out his jaw, covered with a shaggy beard. His hair was a little long too, he didn’t look too good, “Who are you?” You finally asked.

He coughed a few times, then groaned, “No one,” He sounded in pain. He wasn’t anything like any of the other lowlives that snuck around your land. He seemed different. 

Feeling a little safer knowing he meant no harm, you lowered your gun a bit but still kept it close in your hands, “Why are you here, Mr. No One?” You still couldn’t see his face, which is why you kept your gun close. He could be a dangerous wanted man fooling you for all you knew.

He wheezed in a big breath, coughed again, then chuckled, “Well I was supposed to be picking up some money from some… Mr. (L/N) but I got a little… drunk,” He didn’t sound too pleased with himself, “Guess I didn’t really want to do this job,” he sighed, “I hate it,” Maybe it was the booze, but this stranger sure was chatty. They’d normally leave by now, but you heard this man speak of your father which confused you. You’d never seen this poor sap of a man before, how did he know your father?

It took a second to connect the dots. You’re anger flared up like a wildfire and you snapped your gun right back towards the stranger, “Loan shark,” you whispered, “You work for the German?”

He finally looked at you, lifting his gaze from the ground. He had blue eyes, but they were sunken and tired, his face was gray and he looked like he had seen a ghost, or turned into one, “Nah… Sorta. I don’t really like it, and honestly… I don’t think I’m gonna anymore,” He coughed again but this time it was in a fit. He was sick. Sick enough that his coughing fit caused him to double over and spit up a bunch of phlegm and snot. 

You lowered your gun one last time, feeling that he truly was no threat to you and in turn, you made yourself no threat to him, “So… you ain’t gonna come and beat my father for money?”

The man spit again and shook his head, “Nah,” You couldn’t help but feel sorry for him, and you couldn’t deny the feeling you had to help him. He seemed so… broken.

“You got anywhere to go?” The question was odd but you wanted an answer.

“That’s what the barn was for,” He chuckled slightly, “I’m sorry, I’ll leave.” He made himself stand tall and he tipped his hat at you, “Sorry, ma’am-”

“Wait!” God what were you doing? “Wait- I just… You don’t seem well, mister. I know you trespassed on my land and all… But it feels wrong of me to turn away someone who needs the help,” It seemed like you offended him, offering him help, whatever that meant, “Please, come inside. It’s gonna be cold tonight, might rain,” You looked up at the sky, you could see the faint glow of the moon behind thick clouds, and the wind was picking up, “At least until you’re…” You waved a hand at him, “Sober.”

He didn’t fight you, maybe even if he wanted too. He nodded his head, “Alright,” 

You had turned back towards the little house you had, walking up the shallow hill, “(Y/N), is my name, (Y/N) (L/N),” You told him.

“Arthur Morgan,” He groaned. You could tell he was having a hard time keeping up with your quick pace.

“I think you should avoid the drink, Mr. Morgan. You don’t seem to make wise choices under the influence,”

“No, I certainly do not,” Arthur had found himself beyond repair this night. He wasn’t handling the whole dying thing very well. Strauss had asked him yet again to go get money, but Arthur just didn’t want to do this anymore. He found himself drinking back to back until he got lost in the woods and stumbled into a hilly clearing. That’s when he caused all the ruckus from your barn.

Arthur didn’t really want to impose, either, but you were right. It started sprinkling rain as soon as you got to your back porch. Arthur lost his god damn horse in the mess of forest and he was too drunk to whistle for it to come back. He wasn’t wasted, he could still see and talk and think. He was just… overly depressed and filled with self-hatred. Maybe what he needed was some kindness from some decent folk, and that happened to be a kind young woman who didn’t blow his head off the second she saw him.

When you got inside, you put the shotgun against the wall of your little backroom. The house was small, but it was still town floors. You could hear your father slurring a song and as you walked past the archway to the kitchen, you could see him laying on the dining table.

You rolled your eyes, “Bastard,” you muttered, then looked back to Arthur, “Don’t mind him, the living room is over there, make yourself comfortable. I just made dinner,” It was left forgotten on the stove, maybe, because you had to break up a fight but it was still warm and ready to eat. Arthur just nodded and walked off, keeping his words to himself. You knew your brother was upstairs, possibly sleeping seeing as he had to leave in the morning to go work on as a ranch hand.

You rejoined Arthur with two bowls of the hearty potato soup you made. It was creamy and filled with veggies and chicken. You knew it tasted great because if there was one thing you did well, it was cooking. Arthur was sitting on your dusty old couch when you found him. He took the bowl without complaint.

“You’re a funny woman,” He said. You? Funny? You weren’t the one holding a bowl of soup up to your face and reveling in the steam. Arthur was the funny one.

But you humored him, “Yeah? How so?” You sat down at the other end of the couch, keeping a respectable amount of distance between the two of you.

“First off,” Oh boy, “You’re feeding a man you caught on your land,” He took a spoonful of the soup and he seemed impressed by the bold flavors. He must not be used to eating real food, “Second, you’re being kind to the man sent to basically rob you,” 

Oh that made you giggle, “Maybe I am. But really I just have a weak heart for useless men,” You giggled again at your own inside joke.

But Arthur laughed too, “I’m sure you do,” He shook his head. He found himself liking you more and more. You were funny, you were odd, and you were kind. Maybe he could learn something from your kindness. The world needed more people like you.

“So Mr. Morgan, you can stay as long as you like but I suggest you stay until the storm is gone.” Soft thunder bellowed out as you spoke, “I can only offer you this couch and some blankets for the night,”

“You’re too kind, miss,” He was still working slowly at his soup.

You shrugged, “It’s just the right thing to do.”

Your honesty and words touched Arthur’s heart, it made him smile and you found yourself trapped there, looking at a man who started turning handsome in your eyes. The two of you kept talking as the night passed and you ate away at your food. The more Arthur talked, the harder it was to call it a night. How on earth could someone be so… so tempting? Not in the immature sense, but he was just… nice. It was refreshing to talk to someone outside of your home.

As he sobered up, he talked a lot about parts of his life he could really only share with a stranger, and that was you. You learned he was a very wanted outlaw, he was sick and dying, and he scared.

“My mama died of the same thing,” You confessed, “It’s a awful disease. Slow, painful…” You trailed off, remembering those last awful weeks of your mother’s life, “She was scared too. I think we’re all scared to die.”

“It’s not dying,” He said. His tried blue eyes stared at the empty bowls on the coffee table, “It’s what happens after. I’m not a good man. Or I wasn’t a good one. I’ve killed more people than the men who want to see me swing.”

“I’m sure,” You tried to joke, you both had a quick chuckle, “But did you kill blindly, or did you think for every bullet wasted?” Your words confronted him with a new question he never bothered to ask himself, “Did you kill women and children? Begging for mercy? Or did you kill other outlaws, other men that shot at you first?” He didn’t answer the question, he kept thinking about it. There was something to it that puzzled him greatly.

The two of you went on talking about other things, just two stangers sharing life events. Something about him drew you in but made you feel humble for saving him. Eventually, you did say goodnight.

You went to sleep that night, hoping you’d see him again in the morning. And you couldn’t lie, when you found him missing at dawn, your heart dropped. There was something nice left behind though. He had folded up the blankets you lent him and left a letter on top.

It was folded and seemed to be torn out of a book or some kind of journal. You opened it up, reading it with a smile.

Miss (L/N),

Thank you again for your kindness. You’ve shown so much in such a short time. I owe you more than just a thank you. If there is anything I could do to return the favor, you can find me Anneburg, or I may stop by again in the future. I have little time left, as you know, and I would like to repay you. Please take this money I’ve left. I’ve no use for anything like this anymore. You’re a good person with a good heart. Don’t let anyone change that.

- A.M

[bastardrobocop]

on fallout 76

so, because im a fool i pre ordered fallout 76. frankly, i was going to buy it on release anyway because im starved for anything fallout and new california was a complete bust. 

anyway, this means i have had access to the “B.E.T.A.”, which isn’t really a beta. it’s just server stress tests. i’ve done every pc round so far and i feel like i can say pretty conclusively that it’s just not very good.

sorry, this is going to be a long meandering post

i dont know if its something they can fix in the like, week before they launch the game, but the delay/latency/feel is so fucking whack it’s unbelievable. the multiplayer fallout new vegas mod feels like it has better netcode. in addition, it is dreadfully optimized. i play on a laptop, so maybe take my perspective with a grain of salt, but i’m not the only one who has pointed this out. i use an nvidia 970m, which runs fallout 4 at around 50/60 frames per second. fallout 76 tops out at around 10-30 on average. just wandering the world, the framerate is atrocious. performance is best in small interior cells and in wide open spaces with nothing in it. in more dense and enemy populated areas, the game stutters hard. more than once ive had the game freeze for several seconds during a firefight. its honestly inexcusably bad most of the time. with poor latency and framerate chugging, the gameplay experience is trying. it makes literally everything painful, including just inventory management and crafting. 

the gameplay itself isnt too awful in that its just fallout 4 again but without the pretense of minimal rpg elements. performance problems can make some engagements suck, but most common enemies aren’t too hard. however, the real nasty ones that are higher level than you can be nigh on impossible to take down solo, which sucks because my friends arent always available and dealing with online randos is always bad. but it’s also the only way to get like, good weapons. but anyway, the core gameplay loop is almost the same. i say almost because the ‘workshop’ storage is your only storage. and it has a 400lb limit. which takes into account anything you put in it. this should seem like an obvious issue; you basically cant afford to store things if you gather valuable resources. im currently stuck carrying this big fucking rocket launcher which is useless right now because i dont have any inventory space for missiles, which weigh a ton. also, ammo has weight now. and you can’t scrap ammo for ammo parts like gunpowder or lead. and you can’t sell ammo either. so instead you just have to like, dump hundreds of rounds just on the ground since you can’t store them in the workshop because you need space for steel and adhesive and that M2 Browning that you can’t use yet but want to hold onto because it looks bitchin. however, you can bulk scrap with plastic, which reduces weight by about half. however, therein lies another problem; plastic becomes a precious resource because you can’t make a bulk pile of wood without it for some reason. plastic is currently more precious than literal gold. still, you get stuck holding a bunch of valuable scrap in your inventory which you can’t put into your stash because it’s full and you can’t go out and find more plastic because then you’ll be over-encumbered and you cant afford to drop this circuit board and you can’t build any more things in your camp because the budget is painfully low and even when you DO get enough plastic to bulk things the bulked stuff goes into your inventory and wont necessarily fit back into the stash and i’m still carrying this fucking missile launcher please god let me put down this missile launcher please oh please god

the ui is a disaster. it’s like they turned 4′s console/gamepad control scheme and doubled down on it; on pc, random keys are bound to multiple things and then also bound to a separate key, and you can’t re-bind things individually. so that means middle mouse is both ‘open favorite item wheel’ and ‘enter third person’ and ‘enter build mode’ when there’s also V which is also ‘enter third person’. you cannot change this. there will always be one button for this. there is still no separate binding for bash and grenade throw, of course. if you press escape, it opens the map. if you press m, it opens the map. to open the pause menu with things like ‘options’ and ‘microtransaction store’ and ‘quit the game’, you have to open the map with either escape or M and then press Z. there is no direct button to take you to the pause menu, as far as i can tell. when you go up to a workbench, there are three options; E to craft, R to scrap, Space to repair and modify. from this menu, if you want to scrap an item, you must mouse over it, and then select it. however, DO NOT MOVE THE MOUSE UNDER ANY CIRCUMSTANCES. even if the prompt is open and asking if you want to scrap, say, a pump action shotgun, if you mouse over and the highlight moves over to your only power armor chest piece, it will scrap the power armor chest piece. even though it was asking if you wanted to scrap the shotgun. its potentially one of the most hostile interfaces ive ever seen. the bindings for ‘scrap mode’ and ‘scrap item’ in different menus also change. if i’m in the repair menu, G scraps an item. if i’m in scrap mode, spacebar does. the only good thing ive seen so far is the favorite wheel and also you can set it so you can see through your pip boy background while browsing it. 

the world feels desolate and boring. the lack of human npc interaction has been replaced with finding some dead persons holotape. there are robots. there is at least one AI. but all the questgivers are pieces of paper, holotapes, or voices on a radio. sometimes it’s a robot. you don’t actually interact though. there’s no interaction beyond listening and being told what to do. while im bitching about how the world feels, lets talk about factions. bethesda has kind of casually hyped up factions as being some kind of meaningful, cool choice. they’re literally nothing. there is no indication to other players what faction you are in. you can join every faction and reach top rank in every faction. you cant see if anyone is a member of your faction unless theyre in your faction specific base. there is no inter-faction conflict, there are very few faction quests aside from random events, and once you’re done with the main faction quest, you’re basically done for good except for repeatable ones. i honestly expected factions to be a meaningful choice, which was probably my mistake. i was hoping it would force you to commit to your current faction once you joined it, or would prompt you to abandon another faction in order to join a new one. but there’s just nothing. i was expecting something like, i dunno, destinys faction thing. like joining new monarchy. and maybe butting heads with members of other factions, like i figured the Brotherhood faction would be my enemy if i joined the enclave. but it’s just nothing. the world is nothing, the quests are nothing, everything just feels pointless. 

this is also a personal gripe, but there are like no energy weapon alternatives to small guns aside from the errant laser pistol, but ammo is extremely rare. the only new energy weapon i’ve seen so far is the plasma gatling, which is a big gun. otherwise, it’s just the crappy pistol/rifle converting laser and plasma rifle. no plasma pistol, just a pistol conversion. no laser pistol, just a pistol conversion. i’ve always loved energy weapons and just like. not getting any variety while guns and melee weapons get tons of variety is grating. there are many new ballistic weapons that look neat. the 10mm smg is back, and i am admittedly fond of it. however, 10mm ammo is painfully rare. i spend basically all my lead making more ammo for it. i can kind of get by with my laser pistol and my shotgun always makes up however much ammo i lose because a lot of enemies use shotguns, but my 10mm just goes up in smoke and there’s none to be found elsewhere. there’s a shocking amount of .308 because almost every early/mid enemy uses a hunting rifle, but i guess it makes sense because the big MG-32 thing takes .308 so they want you to be able to use it when the time comes. still, i’d rather be using an energy weapon. i want like. a recharger pistol. or the plasma rifle with all the tubes. or a pulse gun. just like. anything other than the ugly aer9 pistol conversion. i think the folks down at bethesda just dont like energy weapons very much; theyre leaps and bounds less viable than small guns. 

the enemies look okay. instead of raiders, you have the Scorched. they’re Marked Men, but weaker and also a cult formed by radioactive bats. there are super mutants, because bethesda cant be bothered to go outside of the comfort zone of Things People Recognize and also they hate lore i guess. the wild animals are kind of fun. theres a big toad that looks cute, and frogs that have MASSIVE arms that they run on, which looks funny. theyre small though. things like the mothman and snallygaster look neat. the flatwoods monster is okay. the grafton bastard is big and kind of easy to cheese out. there is a monster named after a flawed and racist interpretation of indigenous beliefs. theres a big sloth, who i love. the mole men (called mole miners) are intimidating and ANNOYINGLY precise with shotguns. they’re later game enemies and very aggressive. they drop a neat looking unarmed weapon that ive been using, called a mole miner gauntlet. it’s like a power fist with big claws. there’s a big bee called a honeybeast. ive basically covered all of the new monsters, though. everything else is from fallout 4 and dlcs. this includes things like anglers, which had obviously evolved on far harbor along with the lure plant so it doesnt make sense for them to be there, and gulpers which are big salamanders so i guess that’s more okay. there are swarms of bees that are just he same repeated png of a bee, spinning around. oh yeah, there are a couple new insect types; ticks and fireflies. both use the animations of the radroach and bloatfly, respectively.

solo play can be kind of boring and difficult. most randos you meet will either ignore you or call you a slur and run away. ive only had one guy break into my house and i murdered him. however, even though he had a bounty on his head, he was still allowed to get ‘revenge’ on me which meant he could spawn right next to me and this time he had a power armor suit, so he killed me a couple times before logging out to avoid my wrath. coward. if you’re out there dude, i’ll kick your ass. also, quick note about the bounty system; its kinda rough around the edges. i tried to save someones garden by shooting a ghoul that was stomping their flowers in the back. however, my shot somehow curved around him at point blank and broke a blackberry bush. from then on, i had a 20 cap bounty on my head. i had to hide from people in my secret enclave bunker and get my friend to kill me so i could perceive other people on the map again and also not live in fear of every tom dick and larry with a power armor frame and a bad attitude. 

i feel like i should wrap up. fallout 76 is not very good, but if they can work out performance and latency it wouldnt be too bad for just dicking around with friends. in terms of being like, a fallout game, it’s worse than 4. i haven’t gotten into story spoilers, but its not great. and it feels remarkably desolate for a game thats advertised as being a cool time with your buds. maybe itll be better when there are more people playing. i dunno. its just not very good. i dont recommend it.

[clonecaptains]

What if Shane was the one who saved Judith after the prison fell?

TWD AU | word count: 8,693

“He realized he was going to have to take care of this baby alone. And he didn’t even know her name.”

Shane was on his own after the farm. He and Rick fought, and Rick made it clear he wanted Shane to leave. He did leave, and he felt constant guilt as he watched the barn get overrun and he was safe from the herd.

He stayed alone, but he followed the group. He was always a few days behind them. They never knew, but he wanted to see where they ended up. He didn’t like being lonely, though he managed in being alone. He never stayed outside if he could help it, and he always found a house or some sort of shelter to stay in. He could fall sleep anywhere.

When the group found the prison, Shane thought about sneaking into one of the cell blocks, but he didn’t know if that would be a good idea. His hair had grown back, and he had a beard now. He wondered if anyone in the group would even recognize him. But he still didn’t want to risk it.

So he did what he’d done in those lonely months, he scavenged and was on his own. But he always knew where the prison was.

Shane saw Carol and Rick once, he was in a house, and he saw them from the window. He saw them separate. And Shane wondered what Carol did. He knew Rick wouldn’t leave her, so he was guessing it was something like what got Shane ‘banished’. He could tell it wasn’t just a separation to get more supplies, but Carol quickly went her own way before Shane could meet up with her.

He decided to make his way back to the prison, he was starting to run out of places to get supplies. He had enough for now, but he needed to go a different direction. Yet he still wanted to stay close to the prison if he could. He still had that hope they would let him in, ironic he thought. He’s a cop and he’s begging to get into prison. But if Rick kicked out Carol, there’s no way they would take him back.

He made his way towards the prison, just in time to see it fall.

On instinct Shane ran inside the fallen gates. He killed what walkers he could but he needed to know if Rick, Lori, and Carl were ok. Shane had no idea Lori was gone, and he’d almost forgotten about Judith.

He didn’t see anyone but walkers when he got inside. He heard yelling, but when he heard a baby crying, he froze.

Turning around quickly he saw Judith, she was in a little baby carrier and next to her was a bag of supplies for her, he guessed. But why was she alone?

More instincts kicking in, he picked her up. He left behind her carrier, but he grabbed that bag of her things.

He saw a bus drive away, and that’s when the thought hit him.

He realized he was going to have to take care of this baby alone. And he didn’t even know her name.

He knew he had to get to the woods and away from the walkers. That was the priority.  He didn’t look back at the prison as he walked away. Smoke billowed behind him. The smell of smoke and the dead was heavy in his nose.

Once he was ‘safe’ in the woods he assessed his situation. He remained calm and kept his ears and eyes open for anything while he double checked his supplies. He had some water, a little food, and a fair amount of weapons. He checked Judith’s bag and it was stocked full. He wouldn’t have to stop for her for a while if he rationed it all well.  

But how do you ration for a baby?

He opened a water bottle and gave Judith a sip, then he took a swig himself. He heard groans from the walkers close by. He needed to move.

He put the packs on his shoulders, and held Judith on his hip. His shotgun was in his other hand.

“It’s just you and me now, kid.” He whispered and trekked into the woods.

Shane knew there were houses nearby, but he was turned around, he was on the other side of the woods from where he had been. He knew they would need shelter. A place to sleep is important for the both of them. It’s hot and he didn’t want her to be in the heat longer than necessary. He stayed in the shade while he walked to keep the sun out of her eyes.

It got darker sooner than he realized and he was nowhere near being out of the woods, literally and figuratively.

He knew he wasn’t going to get any sleep that night. How could he? He’s the sole protector of this child.

His child.

He can’t sleep and risk something happening to either of them. If something happens to him, then it’s bad news for her.

Shane had some rope in his bag, and he tied it around a small group of trees. It took him longer than he thought because he’s having to hold a baby in his arms.

He sat down and leaned against the biggest tree of the clump. He shifted Judith so she was sitting on his lap.

“D’you wanna take first watch?” he ask her. She blinked up at him and yawned.

“I’ll take that as a ‘no’,” he chuckled. He adjusted her so she rested her head against his chest. She curled her hands under her chin and fell asleep quickly. Shane patted her hair softly and enjoyed the peaceful moment while he could. He unbuttoned his shirt and buttoned it back up around her to make sure she was warm.

His hand was secure on her back, while his other hand still held onto his shotgun. He had a knife in his boot and another gun on his hip. But he wasn’t letting go of that shotgun.

Shane had done many a stakeout in his time, and he’d pulled a lot of all nighters. But this was a first.

He was completely alone in these woods. He’d been alone before, but then he didn’t have to worry about taking care of a baby. Every sound made him alert. An owl hooted and the hairs on the back of his neck stood up. It was total darkness. He was afraid to have a fire because it might attract something.

He tensed when he heard a stick crack, and some leaves rustle. He told himself it was just an animal but he wasn’t at ease. He held onto little Judith tighter.

Sleep was calling his name and he fought so hard. His eyes were heavy but he was too worried to fall asleep. Another stick crack got his adrenaline pumping and he was wide awake again.

This had to be the longest night of his life. He had an uneasy feeling and he knew as soon as he had light in the morning, he was looking for shelter. He couldn’t stay out in the darkness alone like this again.

He tried to plan out what he needed mentally to calm himself and keep focused. The darkness seemed to only get darker as the night went on.

His heart stopped when he heard leaves rustling again. It was obvious what it was. The leaves were being shuffled under feet, not pushed quickly by a small animal.

Shane’s heart was pounding in his chest as the steps got closer. He felt his stomach churn when he heard the groans.

What if the walker smelled him and Judith?

Shane’s hand curled around the shotgun a little tighter. There was a lump in his throat and his heart was pounding in his ears as he heard the walker walk past.

He heard the sound of the rustling leaves fade. And he let out a tiny sigh of relief. But he panicked when he heard the leaves rustling get faster. The groans got louder and Shane froze. He leaned his head back against the tree and held his breath.

That’s when Shane heard an animal shriek. It sounded like a deer. Shane’s blood went cold. He waited for what felt like years for the walker to leave.

It finally did and there was silence again.

Shane wanted to sleep so bad. His body was fatigued.

Judith slept most of the night thankfully, but she stirred when birds started to sing. It was still dark but Shane knew that birds singing meant daylight wasn’t far behind.

Judith started to coo and babble a little, and Shane smiled, briefly. He still couldn’t help but worry her ‘talking’ would draw attention to them.

Then a terror struck Shane that he hadn’t thought about all night. He had no clue how to take care of this little girl. He’d never even held her before that day. Never even seen her.

Sure he’d babysat Carl a few times, but that was before. Lori had given him everything Carl would need and that was only for a few hours. And he’d not really been around to see what to do with Judith. She was relying on him to protect her. He knew he knew biologically he was her father, but now he had to actually be her father, her caretaker. And it bothered him that he didn’t know her name. He was going to do the best he could, but would he ever know her name?

Dawn began to break and finally, Shane could see. Though part of him wishes he couldn’t.

He was right, it was a deer that the walker had killed. The remains of the deer was a few feet away from Shane’s rope barrier. A cold sweat was on Shane’s brow. Few more feet and it could’ve been Shane’s leg instead of that deer.

He shook his head to clear the thought and started to process what his next move is. Judith started to cry and he didn’t really know what to do.

He shushed her gently and took a towel out of his backpack. He laid it on the ground and set her down on it. He changed her diaper quickly, as best he could, and fed her a little.

He desperately needed to combine her bag of supplies with his, because carrying two bags and a baby and his shotgun was already making his arms tired. He’s got strength but he doesn’t know how long he can keep this up, especially since he’s had zero sleep. He needs to find a house, or somewhere he can safely put Judith down and combine the packs.

The more Shane thought about it the more he felt unprepared. And he had to pee, so bad. He almost laughed because how was he going to do this? He felt sure he looked ridiculous but there was no one around to see him and laugh. He unbuttoned his shirt and put Judith inside, then he buttoned it back up a bit and tucked it into his pants to secure her. She happily cooed and played with his necklace. Now that his hands were free he could unzip his pants.

He leaned the shotgun against the tree and took care of his business. He joked with Judith ‘not to look’ and he laughed at her because she was very focused on his 22 necklace. She kept clutching at it and trying to eat it.

When he was done, he decided to leave her inside his shirt for the time being. He collected the rope and shouldered the two packs. Judith fussed a little, but only a little. Shane calmed her down surprisingly well. He was shocked by it himself. He spoke to her gently and she still played with the necklace happily.

As Shane walked, he found what looked like an old biking trail, and he decided to follow it. The sun was out now and shining through the trees. Judith whined when the sun got in her eyes. Shane himself was squinting a little.

“I know what we need little girl. Need some shade.” Shane stopped and took off his backpack. He rested it on his knee while he stood. He searched through the pack til he found what he was looking for.

“You want the brown one or the blue one?” he asked her. He had his police caps with him.

She reached for the blue one, which was the closest one to her.  She tried to bite the brim of the hat which made Shane laugh. That got a smile from her. He adjusted the width of the hat to make is as small as possible and he put it on her head.

He put the brown one on, then shouldered his pack again.

“Look at us. We look badass. Walsh and Gri-….Walsh.”

He looked down at her and she was fiddling with the necklace again.

“You are mine ain’t ya?”

He hadn’t even been with a full day and he already loved her. He was willing to die for her if that’s what it took to save her life. He still didn’t know what he was doing but he was going to try his hardest.

She gurgled and Shane couldn’t help but smile. She didn’t have a care in the world. She couldn’t even talk yet.

The physical weight on his shoulders was tiring him, but the emotional weight of carrying her was eating at him as he walked up the trail. When he was at the prison he saw the bus drive away, but if he knew Rick, Rick was not on that bus. Not when he could be defending his people. He wondered if Rick got away. Lori might be on the bus, Shane thought. And if he knew Carl, he’d be right there next to his dad, if Rick would let him. And Carol wasn’t even at the prison, so he knew someone had to have made it out right? Or was he really only with this baby girl?

And what is her name?

And what if she isn’t his??

She had to be though right?

Shane had been keeping up with the time and her age fits. He didn’t see any other babies, and he had to figure babies in this world are rare.

He patted her back when that thought crossed his mind. She’s a special little baby. He bets that she lights up a room. Babies are happy things. But it’s more than that, Shane has a chance to be different, different for her. There are things he regrets, some things he doesn’t regret, but he doesn’t want to regret anything with her.

The sun was high overhead when Shane finally reached where the trail led.

“Look at that little girl, I think we’re in luck.”

This area was a campground, and there was a small building for registration and such.

Shane spotted a tent not too far from this little building, and if there weren’t any inside, he was going to snag that one.

But first he needed to check out the building. There were no cars out front unfortunately, but there were several benches and a couple wooden tables.

The front door was closed and locked. So he tried around back. That door was wide open which concerned him. Who knows what was inside.

He buttoned up his shirt a little higher on Judith’s head so nothing could get at her. Her little fingers clutched onto his tank top under his shirt.

He had both hands on his shotgun, he didn’t want to fire it if possible, but he would if he had to.

There was one walker inside, Shane spotted it before the walker saw him. Shane used the butt of his shotgun to hit the walker on the head. The walker fell to the floor and Shane closed the back door, so nothing else could get in. He’d get rid of the walker’s body later.

He investigated the room, it wasn’t much more than a front desk, and an open area for eating. A few more benches and tables were inside, the same as the ones outside. And there was a large closet behind the front desk for tents and equipment. He went in there first.

There was one tent, but several sleeping bags. There were a couple flashlights and a couple big backpacks were hidden on the top shelf. He pushed the benches and tables against the front and back door. And piled all of the supplies in the middle of the room.

He was going to set up the tent, he didn’t feel right sleeping in this place even though it was small. He wanted to be able to zip the tent all the way up, giving him and Judith two layers of protection.

But he couldn’t set up this tent with her inside his shirt.

He unrolled all the sleeping bags and made a little nest out of them, and he set Judith down in the middle. He took off the two backpacks, and dug through hers to see if she had any toys. She made a noise when she saw the red cups.

“You want these darlin?” he rose an eyebrow, and he handed her the little cups. She was very excited and he figured that’d give him some time to set up the tent.

He didn’t realize how hot he was til he took off the backpacks, and wasn’t holding Judith. His tank top was soaked with sweat. He took off his denim shirt, but left on the tank top for the time being.

He huffed seeing why this tent was the only one left. He didn’t want to go outside to get the other one he’d spotted, so he’d just make do. The tent wasn’t broken - it was just complex. But he was going to figure it out. It was only noon, he had time.

But that was when he realized he’d not eaten all day, and it’d been awhile since she had eaten as well.

There was no kitchen in this place, Shane assumed the tables were for people who’d brought pack lunches and things. He had some food, but more food is always good, but he’d just have to look at the next place.

He sat down on the floor next to Judith and dug through his backpack. He’d found several boxes of protein bars a couple days ago, so he snacked on one of those while he got Judith a bottle. There was several jars of baby food in her bag as well, and he wasn’t sure what to give her. But she reached for the bottle regardless. He pulled her into his lap and held the bottle steady. Her tiny hands held on, and one of her hands wrapped around a couple of his fingers. He took off her hat, and got a good look at her. He knew those eyes.

They were his.

She looked up at him and he saw her smile peek out from around the bottle.

“Hey sugar. Is that good? Yeah?”

Once she was done, it wasn’t long before she fell asleep. That’s when Shane started in on the tent.

He finally got it set up, and once it was finished he started in on organizing his bag and her bag into the big hiking backpack.

He took out all his clothes, there wasn’t much, but he had enough to keep warm because the weather was starting to get cooler at night. In addition to his clothes, he had a good thick jacket too. It was only a matter of time before it got cool in the daytime.

He started to put things into piles, never in his life had he been this organized. He had a clothes pile, supplies pile (weapons, ammo, etc), and food/water. He dumped out Judith’s bag and put her things with his, then he started pack the big backpack. There was space on this backpack were he could tie a sleeping bag to it. He’d have to carry the tent, but it came with a bag and there was a good sturdy strap he could put over his shoulder.

Once everything was packed, his next priority was making a little pouch for Judith. He cut two holes out of the bottom of his old backpack for her legs, and that way he could put her inside. He’d leave the backpack open for her head and arms, and he’d wear it backwards.

As soon as that was done, he leaned against the front desk counter and watched Judith as she slept on the pile of sleeping bags.

The next thing he knew was he opened his eyes, it was late in the afternoon, and he forgot where he was. The first thing on his mind was the baby.

How could he be so stupid and fall asleep?

He jolted up, and hit his head on the counter.

“Shit!”

His exclamation and the noise from hitting his head, woke Judith, she hadn’t moved but now she’d been startled.

It scared her and she started to cry.

Shane rubbed his head, he really hit his head good.

“Hey shh shh it’s ok sweetheart. Daddy’s got you, c’mere,” he reached for Judith and cradled her in his arms. “It’s ok. I’m sorry I didn’t mean to scare ya sweet pea.” He stroked her hair and kissed her forehead while he rubbed her back a little. She hiccupped and calmed down.

“You ok with that sweetheart?”

She looked at him, she had no clue what he was saying but he couldn’t help but talk to her.

“You ok with me bein’ your daddy?”

She reached up to tug on his beard a little. She babbled a little, and it tugged at his heart. At this point he was just happy she wasn’t scared of him. She seemed to trust him.

Dusk was setting in, and Shane had moved all the sleeping bags and supplies inside the tent. He carried Judith around on his hip as he gave her a bottle. While she ate, he did a finally sweep of the little building. Made sure all the windows were locked, he didn’t have time to board them (or any nails to use). He’d not seen (or heard) any walkers all day around the place except for that one he’d killed. He was hoping nothing would draw any walker’s attention.

Once he felt the place was secure, and once Judith was done eating, Shane took her inside the tent. He zipped it up tight.

He turned on a single flashlight, so he could see to adjust her on her little bed he’d made. There were several sleeping bags on the floor of the tent. He had one for himself, and he made a little nest of sorts for Judith using the rest of the sleeping bags.

He sat up to watch her as she fell asleep, and he ate one of his protein bars. He munched quietly as he thought about the last 24 hours.

He thought he loved her, but then other thoughts came creeping in.

Some things you don’t forget, and he was told once when he was in school, that the love he had to offer was shallow.

Right then Judith whimpered, and Shane put his hand on her belly.

Maybe he was just lonely, and he thought he loved the only person in his life. He felt guilty for wanting this girl to be his. She is. He knows it. But he can’t stop thinking about what Rick said the last time they spoke.

“Have my children call you ‘daddy’ is that what you want?”

Shane had never thought much about having kids before. A lot of things for him had just been doing what he needed to do for himself. He loves Carl, but he never thought that much about having his own children. But now having this sweet little girl completely relying on him for protection? He’d do anything for her, he already had risked his life for her. That’s what you do for someone you love isn’t it?

And even if she wasn’t HIS, she is now - because, they are all each other has.

Shane clicked off the flashlight and laid down. He used his backpack for a pillow. His hand was still on Judith’s tummy. He heard cicadas and crickets and was glad those were the only outside noises he could hear.

He laid awake for awhile, but he knew he couldn’t risk another accidental nap like he’d done earlier today. So he let himself sleep.

Judith’s whimpers woke him up in the morning. Dawn had just broken and there was a little light inside the tent. Shane heard the faint growl of a walker but it sounded like it was coming from outside. There was no way one could’ve gotten in and him not know about it.

Shane took care of Judith, he changed her and fed her in hopes of keeping her quiet. He gave her the red cups to play with while he ate a bite for breakfast.

It was hot already this morning so he took off his tank top and put on a t-shirt. He packed up his bag and put Judith in her little baby pouch he’d made. She fussed a little but when she realized she could move her legs freely she giggled as she kicked around.

Shane put his hat back on his head, and put the other hat on her head. He didn’t roll up the sleeping bag or tent yet, but he still took the backpack with him. He wasn’t interested in moving on so soon. Today he’d scout out the area, see what else he could scavenge.

His main worry was how to kill walkers. Because if he shot the gun out in the woods, it would draw more. Not to mention it would scare Judith. And if she was scared, she would cry, and that would mean more noise. He’d gotten pretty good with a knife, but that means he’s gotta be close to the walker to get it, and that could risk Judith getting hurt.

He knew he’d heard a walker around, so that was a concern as he moved the bench away from the door so he could go outside.

That other tent he’d spotted the day before was a few yards out, so he walked up to it carefully. He heard the unmistakable moans coming from inside, and he hoped that was the walker he’d heard. He didn’t get to close to the tent, and he prayed it wouldn’t draw any more attention.

He walked around the surrounding wooded area, making sure he knew how to get back.

There wasn’t much of anything. It was so quiet. He didn’t know if that bothered him or if that was good.

He continued his search for more water, or a better shelter, but nothing came up.

He walked a little further and came to a clearing.

It was a train track.

He spotted a boot print. That meant there were people around right? He just hoped they were the friendly kind. He walked up the track a ways and say the sign for “Terminus.”

“Sounds like a bunch of bullshit to me.” Shane mumbled. But he had a thought. Someone from the prison might follow these tracks to Terminus. He’d have to watch his back for others following the tracks too, but he was already looking out for walkers. He could handle it.

“What do you think Sweet Pea?” he asked little Judith. He’d taken to calling her Sweet Pea now.

Shane knew Terminus probably wasn’t a stronghold. It may have been before, but usually these things didn’t pan out. But he wanted to go towards it, just in case he ran into someone from the prison. This might be his only lead at finding people. Even if they didn’t want him back, he had to try.

Only problem, he’d have to leave that little camping lodge.

At least now though he had the tent.

Tent was better that nothing.

He’d slept in a tent in the early days outside of Atlanta.

Never imagined this is where life would take him. Out in the middle of the woods holding a baby. His baby, and he didn’t even know her damn name.

He backtracked to his little campsite. It was late in the afternoon and he decided to stay the night at the campsite just one more night. He could get some good rest and pack up at first light the next morning.

“That sound alright to you little darlin? Stay here tonight then move on up the road?” Shane held her little hand between his thumb and forefinger. She curled her fingers around his forefinger and brought it to her mouth to slobber all over.

Shane got himself and Judith settled in for the night. They’d both eaten and Judith was getting sleepy. Shane was packing up the rest of their things to save him time in the morning.

He laid on his back on his makeshift bed, one hand near his shotgun, the other hand near Judith. He was wide awake. He was so sleepy but he wasn’t tired and he hated that feeling. He needed rest.

‘I hate sleepin’ on my back,’ he thought. And it was so quiet out. There were hardly any crickets chirping or frogs croaking tonight. It was too quiet and it was unsettling. The only sound he could hear was Judith’s soft breathing. That brought him some comfort, but only made him more aware of his duty to his little sweet pea.

In the silence as he lay awake he thought about before all of this had happened. How he used to sleep. He missed his bed. He missed sprawling out on his bed, his face buried into the pillow. His arm draped over the edge, or maybe draped over a woman. He rarely ever slept on his back. He could if he had to. He’d done it before during stakeouts when he had to take a quick nap. But even then that wasn’t an all night kinda sleeping position. But now he knows he has to sleep on his back. It’s easier to get up at a moment’s notice. But right now, he’s so tired. He’s so damn tired and he wants to roll over on his stomach so bad.

They’d been safe the first few nights, maybe it would be ok. It couldn’t hurt. So he gives in and rolls over on his stomach. He scoots a little closer to Judith, he’s only inches away from her. He sighs heavily and feels sleep coming.

He wakes up in the morning and feels well rested. He cracks his neck and tickles Judith’s tummy to get her to giggle.

That’s when he hears it.

He picks up Judith and unzips the tent.

He steps out slowly, and looks out the window of the little lodge.

Outside is a group of walkers. At least a dozen.

“Shit.” Shane whispers and ducks down to get back into the ten before any of them can see him.

Judith was a bit startled by his quick movements but she was quickly calmed when Shane gave her breakfast.

He had a real decision to make here. Does he leave Judith in the tent? Or does he pack up the tent? He took him an hour almost to set it up. If he leaves her in the tent and kills the walkers, he’ll have to disassemble the tent after. But he runs the risk of the sounds of the gunshots bringing other walkers. But he fears that’s his only other option. If he packs the tent up now, the walkers will most likely see him and Judith will just be on the floor.

Shane gets his knife out of his boot and cuts a piece of cloth off of his shirt. He tears that into two tiny strips, and puts them in Judith’s ears. She starts to fuss but he knows her fussing is better than her ears hurting from the sound of his shotgun. He gives Judith her toys and she’s distracted while Shane gets out of the tent. There’s nothing inside for her to hurt herself with, and he zips it back up. He doesn’t think about what could happen.

He smashes a window with the butt of his shotgun and begins to fire at the walkers. Three are near the window and he gets them quickly. Two more approach after hearing the sound. He gets them with a quick squeeze of the trigger.

Seven walkers remain.

Six of the walkers walk towards the window. Shane hits all of them but two.

Judith begins to cry in fear. Shane tries to ignore the guilt he feels for leaving her, but he can’t hold her and take care of walkers.

The two remaining walkers approach the window. He has to reload the shotgun, so instead he quickly reaches for the knife in his boot. He stabs one in the skull, but the other reaches for Shane’s arm. He twists his arm slightly to stab the walker in the face. In the process his arm scraped against some of the broken glass in the window sill.

Shane feels a warmth on his arm, and he looks down to see he has a gash on his forearm. It’s too clean to be from the walker, and he realizes it’s from the glass shards from the broken window. The scrape was worse than he thought. He’s gotta wrap this up.

Judith is still crying, and Shane carefully with one arm, unzips the tent.

She calms once she sees him.

“Hey sweet girl. Sorry I had to leave, had to protect you. But daddy’s back see?” he leaned down to kiss her forehead. His beard tickled her and she giggled.

He smiled down at her but winced when he felt the sting of the cut. He’d have to stitch it up. He should’ve expected something like this, because he’d already packed up his pack, now he’d have to dig through it again. Luckily he put the first aid type stuff at the top with the food.

He stitched up his arm as best he could, and dressed the wound. He packed up his stuff, again. He put Judith in her little back pack and he got ready to disassemble the tent.

The coast was clear and once the tent was packed, Shane was ready to leave.

Shane moved the benches out of the way to get out the door. He opened the door to see a walker standing in front of it.

Quickly Shane jabbed the butt of his shotgun which knocked the walker over. Shane took a few steps and stomped on the walker’s head.

His adrenaline still high, Shane jogged towards the woods. He didn’t want to be out in the open anymore if he could help it.

He found the train tracks, and followed them from within the woods. He stumbled across a small creek and filled up all the water bottles he had. He splashed some water onto his face, and poured a bit onto the back of his neck.

He walked quietly, his hand resting on Judith’s tummy. Her hand was holding one of his fingers. His other hand was holding his shotgun and he had it propped up on his shoulder.

A turtle walked across his path, and Shane killed it to make for dinner. He hadn’t eaten anything in the past few days but some of those protein bars.

He put the turtle in his backpack, and continued to follow the train tracks. When the air began to cool off he knew it was time to set up the tent. He’d make a fire tonight.

He made rope perimeter around some trees, and set up the tent. The spot where he’d make the fire was near the center of the rope perimeter.

Shane collected wood for the fire, and Judith “helped” too by clapping a couple small sticks together.

He started the fire, and cooked the turtle. He sat in front of the embers of the fire as he ate with little Judith in his lap. He picked at the turtle with one hand and with the other he fed Judith.

The breeze was cool. He felt the sweat on his forehead cooling off, and he closed his eyes for a moment enjoying the feeling.

The sun had set and Shane kicked out the embers of the fire. He didn’t have as many sleeping bags this time, just two. That was all he had room for to tie onto the backpack.

It was too hot to sleep inside the sleeping bag, so Shane slept on top. He made a little nest again for Judith and made sure she was secure. He slept as close to her as possible while still giving her room.

It took Shane awhile to feel comfortable to sleep, but exhaustion took over and he gave in.

Early the next morning Shane woke up hearing voices outside the tent.

The voices got louder, and Shane picked up Judith.

Then someone began to unzip the tent from the outside.

“Let’s see what we have here!” the voice said.

Shane held Judith as close to his chest as possible, and his hand curled around his gun.

A face appeared in the entry way of the tent, and Shane could see a group of men standing around outside.

“Holy shit! We got a live one! And a damn baby!”

An older man leaned down to have a look, it was apparent he was the leader of the group.

“Well come on out son.”

Shane could feel his blood pressure rising but he was determined to keep his head.

He got up and stepped out of tent. His skin was crawling and he felt sick. He’d rather deal with walkers than be cornered like this.

“What’s your name son?” the man asked. Shane didn’t answer. Shane saw a couple of the men go into the tent, they grabbed Shane’s backpack. He heard of them say “claimed.” Shane took a step forward in protest, but another man stepped in between Shane and the tent.

“What do you want?” Shane growled.

“Is she yours?” the man asked ignoring Shane’s question. Shane’s arm curled tighter around her.

“Shane?”

Shane turned his head when he heard the familiar voice.

It was Daryl.

“Daryl, you know this man?” the leader asked. Daryl nodded.

Meanwhile the men were still rifling through Shane’s backpack.

“He’s a cop!” one of them spat.

“Shane you a cop?” the leader asked.

“What the hell difference does it make?”

“Just a simple yes or no question Shane. Sooner you answer, sooner we leave you alone.”

“Yeah. Alright yeah I was a cop.”

“What about her? She yours?”

“Yeah she’s mine.”

“What’s her name?”

Shane looked at Daryl. Did Daryl know her name?

“Shit son you don’t know your daughter’s name?” he laughed it was obviously a joke but to Shane it was all too real.  

Shane remained silent.

The men began to take down the tent. They threw the sleeping bags in the dirt and dumped the contents of Shane’s backpack on the ground.

They left most of the stuff, but they took the now empty backpack, the tent, and the sleeping bags. Daryl tried to help Shane, but there would be no winning.

Shane wasn’t going to beg, but he wanted to tear these men apart. The leader came up to Shane and reached for Judith.

Shane turned away from him, there was no way in hell he was going to let this man touch his child.

Shane spat in the man’s face, which caused one of the men to kick Shane on the back of his knee. The blow brought Shane to his knees, and the leader took Judith from Shane.

He fought to stand up, but two men kept Shane down. One punched him in the gut, and the other grabbed a handful of Shane’s hair to force him to look up.

Judith was whimpering at being held by a stranger. Shane tore out of the grip of the men and stood up.

“Give her back man.” Daryl spoke up.  

“We’re gonna see what Shane here does. He’s let us walk all over him today, if this baby girl is his, he’s gonna have to prove it.”

One of the men gripped Shane’s arm to pull him back, and that’s when Shane snapped. He yanked his arm out of the man’s grip and punched him in the face.

Shane roared as another man lunged for him. He flipped the man over and Shane pressed his boot against the man’s windpipe.

“Give me my daughter. Now.”

The leader nodded at a man behind Shane. Shane leaned down and took the knife out of his boot, and turned to stab the man in his gut.

“So the cop does have some balls!” one of the men cackled. Shane was scowling and his chest was heaving. His fingers twitched.

“Alright alright, here you go,”

The leader handed back Judith, and Shane held her so tight she whimpered.

Daryl gave Shane a look of apology, there wasn’t much he could do. Shane knew that, Shane himself was unsure of what to do.

Daryl put his hand on Shane’s shoulder as the men began to leave.

“What the hell you doin’ with them man?” Shane whispered.

“Gonna leave as soon as I can, I’ll find ya. Take care of the little ass kicker.” Daryl whispered and turned to leave with the group.

Shane was alone again, and with even less supplies than he started out with.

“You alright sweet pea?” Shane asked as he kissed her forehead. He sighed heavily and sat down to lean against a tree. The events of what just happened hit him and his body began to shake. He felt a stinging on his knees, blood was seeping through his pants. He’d skinned them when he was forced to the ground. He had a headache now from his hair being pulled, and his heart was racing still. He had to calm down.

Judith was fine. He’d been better but he was alive. He still had his stuff, for the most part. The tent and sleeping bags were gone, as well as his backpack. He had to repack the only backpack he had left, which was Judith’s carrier. He’d just have to hold her again.

He picked himself up and continued to walk. He crossed to the other side of the train tracks to distance himself, he knew Daryl wouldn’t have trouble tracking him down.

Now he had to find shelter again. He couldn’t backtrack to his previous campsite, because now it had the broken window and dead walkers were scattered everywhere.

He kept on going through the woods along the train tracks.

“Little Ass Kicker huh? That your name baby girl?” Shane spoke softly as he fed her lunch. He snorted, “sounds like somethin’ Daryl would name ya. I’d say it’s pretty damn accurate.”

He smiled down at her as she ate. As much as it gave his arm a bit of fatigue, he wouldn’t lie, he loved being able to carry her again. Sure it was an inconvenience but it was one he was more than willing to endure. She’s his baby, he’s willing to do whatever it takes. And maybe his arm will be a little sore, but it’s not anything any other parent would do for their child.

When she started to get sleepy after she ate, Shane held her up close so she could rest her head on his shoulder.

She whined a little as she started to go to sleep, she sounded upset.

“Shh shh it’s ok sweet pea, daddy’s got ya. Not gonna let anythin’ happen to ya sweetheart. Sleep.” He cooed.

She drifted off to sleep, and Shane continued to walk quietly in the woods. He spotted a clearing parallel to the train tracks. It was a road. That’s when he spotted a car, it had pulled off into the ditch.

Shane hated to wake Judith, but he needed to know if that car would run. He climbed in the driver’s seat as best he could while keeping her still.

The engine came to life, but Shane saw there was no gas left. Thinking quickly, he pulled the car into the trees. At least he would have some cover in the woods, better than being out in the open on the road.

The car stalled, and he didn’t get as deep in the woods as he’d hoped. He could just barely see the train tracks from where he was, and that would just have to do for now. This was the best he was going to get as far as shelter goes.

He walked around in the surrounding area to pick up fallen limbs off of trees, he wanted to hide the car as best he could without looking too obvious. The car had given out near a bush, so he hoped to hide the rest of the car from prying eyes. Walkers had been the main concern, but after this morning, he was overly cautious.

Once the car was camouflaged, Shane and Judith got inside.

He climbed into the backseat so he could have more space. He adjusted the passenger and driver’s seats so they would go up as much as possible, giving him more leg room in the back. He gave Judith her dinner, he ate something himself, and then he changed the bandage on his arm.

Judith was sitting on the seat next to him. She was happily playing with a toy, when a thump startled her.

“Ah hell,” Shane whispered.

He heard the growls before he saw the walkers. There were two, both had their faces pressed to the side of the car. They were on the opposite side of the car as Shane, the walkers had seen Judith through cracks in the camouflage.

Shane sat for a moment to think. He knew the walkers couldn’t get in, could they? But even if they couldn’t, they might draw the attention of others and Shane would really be stuck.

So thinking quickly, he grabbed his shotgun. He got out of the car, leaving Judith safely inside.

He ran around the side of the car and got the walker’s attention.

He didn’t want to risk breaking the glass, so he lured them away as best he could.

Shane shot and killed both walkers, one was a close call. When Shane killed the second one, it was right up on him, when he fired the shot, ‘blood’ from the walker splattered onto his face.

Quickly he got back to car to find a scared, crying Judith.

Her crying stopped the moment she was in his arms. Shane wondered if she knew he was protecting her.

Remembering he had walker blood on his face, he wiped off his face with one of his shirts. He looked in the rearview mirror to make sure his face wasn’t bloody anymore. He got a good look at his reflection.

‘You look like shit Walsh,’ he thought. His eyes were tired, sweat and dirt was on his brow. His hair was a curly mess. His beard was thick, but he was proud of that. He stroked it casually.

“Think I might keep this, think I should?” he laughed at himself, he keeps talking to Judith, but he never expects an answer. “Ya know one of these days you’re gonna be able to reply back to your daddy. Don’t worry sweet pea, I’ll verse you in the ways of sarcasm.”

She yawned and Shane cracked a smile, “that’s my girl.”

Shane took out his jacket, and a couple more shirts to make a pillow. He stretched out across the backseat, and leaned his back against the door. He adjusted the shirt pillow under his neck and Judith was curled up asleep on his chest. One arm was wrapped around her, and he could already feel drool seeping through his shirt.

Sleep came to Shane quickly, and for the first time in a long time, he slept through the night. When he woke up, he cracked his neck. He had a bit of crick in it, but he’d slept so good it didn’t matter. Judith had drooled all over his chest. Shane took fed her breakfast, and quickly changed her. Then he changed out of the drool covered shirt, and put on a different shirt. He munched on some breakfast and rubbed the crick out of his neck.

It started to get muggy in the car, so he slowly climbed out. He made sure the coast was clear, and he grabbed his pack, and Judith.

It wasn’t long before the smell of smoke hit his nose. Still unsure about the whole Terminus situation, he stayed in the woods while he kept an eye on the tracks.

Before he could even reach Terminus, he saw a small clearing and a little cabin.

Then he heard it.

He heard voices – voices he knew.

Within moments he saw the group, and heard Carl call his name. Rick and Carl ran to Shane. For a moment Shane thought maybe they were happy to see him, but then it hit him.

How could he be so stupid?

Rick and Carl with tears in their eyes both reached for Judith.

Shane remembered they thought she had died, and he let her go. It about ripped his heart in half to have his arms empty. But he smiled anyway, because he was right. She brought joy wherever she went.

Daryl nodded at Shane, “knew it wouldn’t be long before I found ya.”

And Carol smiled a hello at him. Shane blinked back tears and tried to spot the familiar faces. He hadn’t spoken to any of them since the farm. He didn’t see Lori, and he didn’t have to ask. He had a feeling she was gone.

Shane felt awkward now. What was he supposed to do?

Right about then Rick walked over to Shane. Carl was off with Judith and some others had gathered around and were smiling and laughing at her.

Rick put his hand on Shane’s shoulder and nodded, “don’t know how to thank you.”

Shane looked down at his boot, not sure of how to even reply.

They both smiled as the watched Carol holding Judith. Judith started to cry and Shane’s arm jerked. His instinct to protect her had been so strong over the past several days.

“Wanna go back to your daddy?” Carol asked her.

Shane’s heart broke.

Carol walked over to hand Judith over to Rick, but Judith reached for Shane.

Rick took her, but Judith still cried and reached for Shane.

“You wanna stay with us?” Rick asked Shane as he handed Judith to him, “I think Judith wants to have…her dad around.”

A wave of relief washed over him, and a hint of fear. Rick just admitted that this baby was in fact Shane’s child.

A smile broke out on Shane’s face as he took Judith.

“Judith huh? Carl?” Shane asked guessing the origin.

Rick nodded with a smile.

“Well hey Judith! Glad I know your name now sweet pea.” Shane couldn’t stop smiling. Judith babbled happily and reached for Shane’s 22 necklace. She made a happy sound and put the necklace in her mouth.

Shane adjusted her on his hip, and the group began to walk.

“I think you could rival Rick with that beard you got Shane,” Carol teased as she walked by.

Shane laughed and felt a feeling of belonging already that he hadn’t felt….since the beginning. He was more than happy to just follow this time. He was welcomed back, and he had his baby girl in his arms.

Shane knew there would be trouble ahead, but all that mattered to him right now, was that he wasn’t alone.

He has a family.

[jabronixav]

Holo; Part 2

Before we go any further with this story, I just wanted to take this time to explain everything that you don’t already know. I am writing this all to my memory disk, as this pod won’t reach the surface for a little while. I wouldn’t be doing this anywhere else, but this place just seemed safest. I am an android, but I don’t know my model, and I don’t have a special set of procedures which I will blindly follow through a program. In every way imaginable, I feel that I am a human, but there comes the problem: I am not. I don’t have skin, or a brain. I look less human than all other androids I’ve seen, yet process in a more human manner than any of them do. I only have a set of numbers to my name, yet for some reason I possess an independent thinking mind. So here comes the question I have been pondering since my reawakening: Why am I like this?

Alongside this pondering about my life, there’s the history of this world I gotta explain. Chances are, you’re a human reading this, which means there’s no way you could’ve lived to see all of what I’m about to say. For this, we need to start from the beginning:

Centuries ago, there was a catastrophic war that broke out, bringing a vast majority of the earth’s nations together to ensure the survival of mankind. The year was 2027, and the otherworldly life-force known as the Sacramentals would invade the planet. These beings were nearly identical to your average human being, with the only exception to the similarities being their physical ability. The average child was capable of leaping like a puma, sprinting like a cheetah, and pouncing like a tiger. They were fearsome beings on the field, and devoted entirely to battle from birth, thus earning them the alias of ‘Sacramental’.

Alongside this, their battle strategy and wit was hardly matched by a human. Some say their patience before combat was impeccable, allowing them to wait for entire decades before beginning their invasion on the planet earth. They had noticed a decline in governmental powers and militaries worldwide by 2025, and finally decided to begin their attack in ‘27. This invasion was known as the Great Collapse. In a matter of two weeks, nearly every nation on the planet fell to the knees of the Sacramentals. Major cities worldwide such as Shanghai, New York City, Tokyo, Dubai, and several others were used as herding grounds, and most of the population was wiped out. Survivors were treated like cattle in massive prisons, built around these cities. Many people claimed it was the beginning of the end. But, through some stroke of courage, anger, and a lot of luck, humanity fought back. Hidden research commenced from the scraps of what was left behind during the collapse, and humanity’s ‘Madagascar Project’ was completed.

Androids, all built with the DNA of a human. Many people donated their DNA to allow themselves to live on in a stronger, grander body, to allow themselves to rest peacefully, knowing their mind is still fighting to defend society. It only took months before nations were rebuilding themselves from the hands of humans and androids alike. They may have been made from pieces of steel, carbon, and plastic, but they thought like a human, and fought like one, too. These undercover communities soon made themselves clear, and in a long and arduous ten year war, the Sacramental forces that once plagued the earth with acts of enslavement and torture were repelled back from the planet. Since that day, the earth has greatly advanced technologically, but a steep decline in the population of the human race caused enough of a stir to spark a civil war on earth itself, placing androids against their creators. Before I was placed into a deep sleep, I had only heard news of the human race declining rapidly. I have no knowledge of where they stand today.

I heard a loud hiss, and after a moment of silence, smoke filled the pod. I kicked the door a few times, and successfully knocked the door off of its hinges after a third kick. A large fog of snow and wind coated my vision. For several moments I was completely blind aside from the interior of the pod, until I was met with the barrel of a gun.

“Freeze.” A voice said. “Not so hard to do in this weather.” She followed with. I sat back in the seat slowly as she leaned in. Her face was pale, and her brown hair was tied in a bun, dotted with white snowflakes. The only other feature I could identify were her green eyes. The rest of her face was covered with an orange scarf. I tilted my head slowly.

“You’re not Sacramental, I don’t think. Give me your hands, I’ll pull you out.” Like the idiot I was, I gave her my hands. It wasn’t even five seconds later that she placed magnetic cuffs on me. I couldn’t move my hands at all, and my arms became too heavy to move. She grabbed my armpit and pulled me into the snow before shouting under her scarf. “I got one, Quinn.” I looked up at her, sitting with my legs crossed and my arms laid out in front of me in the snow. From my view, the only thing I could see were her ankle-high black boots and the flare she had just popped. I had also gotten a better view of the gun, which appeared to be a type of pump-action shotgun, considerably aged and definitely used several times before. It was at this point that she caught me staring, and yanked my head down, and pulled the memory disk out from the back of my model’s neck.

The next immediate thought on my memory disk was of the mysterious lady from earlier, still donning that scarf, walking out from beside me as I sat in the pew of a church. It was the very front row, and the church had seen much better days. There were holes throughout its stone roof, with rays of light and some snowflakes falling through the cracks. I leaned back in the pew as I watched her walk up to the front, where an altar would normally be. There was no altar, however, only stacks of boxes, labeled with different calibers of ammunition. I had placed my hands on the pew before realizing that I could actually move them, and that I was no longer tied down. My sudden rise caused her to turn her head.

“I thought you’d have to undergo some long startup sequence.” It only took me a moment to realize she was poking fun of my model’s age. If I could sigh, you bet I would. “I want to apologize for earlier. You fell out in the open, and in a Sacramental pod, so I put two and two together-” She interrupted herself after pulling out a small, machete-like weapon from her back. “But I guess two plus two equals five. Here, you will need this.” I grabbed the machete before realizing it was made of the same material I am. It had a thick, black carbon blade and a silver handle. I was too busy inspecting this to realize the woman had run up to the back of the chancel. I looked to her, then back to the front door to see if anyone was coming. “Rectory’s our only way out.” She said before looking back to me as I watched the door. “We have a guy in the belltower, you won’t have to worry about anything, but only if we move now.” I began to jog over to her. My feet clanked the wooden floor below, and I awkwardly held the machete in my offhand.

The rectory was darker than the church itself. It was directly next to and below the main church building. The woman and I made our way slowly through the carpeted halls of this war torn building, peeking into every nearby open door and glancing at the crosses and paintings on the walls. Even I knew this building was ancient, people hardly ever used wood anymore.

“Stop for a moment.” The woman whispered very quietly, and the stomping of boots could be heard above. She peered over at my face. “Second Sacrament.” She said as she pointed upward. I nodded slowly before she peered back up. Dust fell from the ceiling as they wandered through, and after several more moments, the footsteps had ceased. We both stood in silence for a little while before we shared a nod to continue moving. She moved quickly up to a door and motioned her head with a beckoning tilt. I walked through the doorway and she shut it behind me, lowering a bar to block the door itself. A cellar door left rays of light to enter the fairly darkened room, and without hesitation, she knocked on it twice. Following this, the door creaked open, illuminating the room with a white glow.

“Up we go.” A deeper voice said as a gloved hand came down. This figure grabbed the woman’s arm and pulled her up. After only a moment and some rustling, the hand returned back down. Glancing back at the barred door, I placed the machete into my other hand, and grabbed the arm with my free one. I was pulled up with the greatest of ease, and got a greater look at the figure. It was only for a moment, but I caught his hazel eyes. He had very dark skin and short, curly hair. He even had a bit of a beard growing.

“Quinn, where’s the truck?” The woman asked to the man, whose slim figure still towered over both of us in height. Without another word, he extended his long arm toward the snowy road beside us, and with two snaps of his fingers, a red light illuminated on his hand, followed by the roar of an engine not too far off from the street. Following the now visible headlights, the three of us walked toward the truck, trekking through the ankle-high snow beneath our feet.

The back seat of the truck was a heavy-duty truck with a cargo bed on the back, also known as a pickup truck. Although, this model seemed relatively new, newer than any I had ever seen. This made me wonder how long I had been asleep for. I had plenty of time to ponder this again, as the three of us sat quietly in the truck as Quinn drove through the snow. I hadn’t peered out the window since the beginning of the ride, and I had lost track of time after thinking about various miscellaneous topics. Not to mention, my inability to vocalize doesn’t exactly make me the most social individual in this vehicle. I didn’t even need to know anything about these two to know that.

“J, by the way.” The woman said before turning her head to look toward mine. “My name is J.” Quinn glanced back for a second.

“Dude can’t talk, telling him your name’s not gonna do much.” he said, chuckling a bit. The two exchanged words as I began to zone out again, sitting in the back seat of this truck with a machete by my feet and my hands on the cushions. I felt like a child, really, and J. and Quinn felt like my parents. It filled me with a feeling of nostalgia, for some reason. It was bittersweet, in a way. I never experienced this before, though, as I am an android, yet I felt intrigued by the parental fighting going on before me. Sliding to the right in the seat behind J, I peered out the tinted window. The snowstorm had cleared up, and the fields beside us were coated with white. The truck’s tired trekked through this terrain with ease, and the fields beside us passed quickly.

Quinn must’ve taken notice of my wandering eyes as he motioned the rear-view mirror to face me.

“New Normandy. Paris was Ground Zero for the Second Sacrament attack. We’re getting to Belgium before they do.” I nodded for a moment before peering back over to the fields. “But first we need to make a pit-stop, shouldn’t take long.” Ahead of us was a large house on the side of this snowy road, with a modern camp built around it. Seeing the wooden, aged house beside a camp of metallic crates and tents made me tilt my head a bit. All of this was modern to them, but a little too modern to me. Quinn pulled us very close to the house, turning the ignition and shutting off the engine. J turned and snapped a picture of me on a small widget attached to her wrist, and I just sat there, taking this all in.

“Be right back.” She said, opening up the car and shutting it behind her, walking toward the tents. A few people took notice of her and marched through the snow to her, meeting beside a small circle of chairs. She displayed her wrist to them, and one of them pointed to us in the car. She nodded her head, lowering her arm and patting one of the figures shoulders. Their faces were unrecognizable as they were cloaked in thick blankets and hoods except for one, heavyset man with a receding buzz cut. J returned to the car, pulling the door open after waving farewell to the congregation.

“Yeah, that’s definitely who they’re after.” J said. This caused Quinn to look back at me with a flat, concerned expression. “Son of a bitch.” He muttered.

“You didn’t really think a pod would fall from that ship and not cause a stir, did you?” J asked Quinn with a condescending tone. She leaned back in her chair, pulled her phone out, and opened up a map. It projected into the air before her. “We still got 200 miles or so, we’ll never make it in time.” Quinn began to pull out from the house, steering back onto the road and driving in the same direction we were going before we pulled in.

“Just-” He muttered before scratching his forehead. The engine’s roar took over as we sped up down the road. Quinn never finished that sentence.