#if you can please pray for X too! she's a tough-as-nails girl who wants to sort things out on her own and finds it really hard to ask for h

[thebirdandhersong]

Do you guys have any tips or resources for students with ADHD? There's a girl in my dorm who is dear to me and who's seriously struggling in her studies and really needs to pass this semester. It's taken a bit of a toll on her heart and her mind, not being able to focus and finish tasks and do well in her studies, so if you guys know of anything that's been particularly helpful, I would appreciate it so, so much.

[brokenlovesong]

SHADOWS PAUSE AT THE WINDOW

ace x marcia (+ lots of greaser angst) rating: general word count: 20.9k

“Glory, he’s burning up!” Darry pulled his hand back from his brother’s forehead like it was on fire. Ace knew she should do something. Call for help— check his pulse— anything other than just stand there and gawk. But she couldn't move. It was like her brain was no longer connected to her body and she was frozen in place. All she could think about was that he couldn’t join their friends. Ace never prayed once in her life. But in that moment, what ran through her head on repeat was "please, God, not him, too." Takes place right after “Little Brother” (aka Dally’s death). Ponyboy collapses and is rushed to the hospital. The rest of the gang is left trying to wrap their heads around the fact they just lost two of their family members in one foul swoop.

[short excerpt]

“You’ll leave,” Ace admitted, weakly. Only two words and yet they were sitting in the darkest crevices of her brain. Admitting the truth was hard. It made her fears real. And she felt vulnerable by it. Vulnerability only ever got her hurt. But she felt like she had no other option with Marcia.

“No, I won’t-”

“Yes, you will,” Ace interrupted. “You’ll see how fucked everything really is and decide you want nothin’ to do with it and- and I wouldn’t even blame you. I’m a mess, Marcia.” She was trying so hard to keep the tears at bay. They were there, begging to be expressed. But she was holding her breath— suffocating— afraid to let it out. That was the last inch of control she had. “I’m a fuckin’ mess.”

Warm hands encompassed her own to control the jitters they had and stop the way she’d begun to tear the skin around her nails apart. She focused on the feeling, how soft Marcia’s skin felt compared to her own. There were no calluses on her knuckles. She had a fresh manicure that was smooth to the touch.

“Listen to me, Ace. I love the cool, tough-as-nails-chick who’ll get in the face of a guy twice her size because they pickin’ on her friend— the girl who handed me a switch blade and started giving me tips on stabbin’ people.” Ace gave a small laugh and tried to pull her hands away to wipe the sweat from her palms on her clothing. But Marcia wouldn’t let her. She only brought Ace’s hands in closer and to her chest. Ace could feel Marcia’s heart beating steadily.

“But I don’t expect you to be her all the time. This world ain’t fair and there’s only so much one person can take. Even Wonder Woman has her breaking point.”

[full fic on ao3]

[hidden-otaku-stuff]

Cornerstone (song-fic request)

Tw: drinking, cursing, inarizaki match spoilers

Word count: 1.4k

Pairing: Osamu x reader

Genre: angst with fluff ending

AN: hey anon!  You didn’t specify if you wanted angst or fluff, so I decided to do an angsty story with a fluff ending :’) ugh i’m so sorry that this took so long!! I struggled so hard to write this 🥺

“‘Samu, I’m sorry.”

Osamu kicked the dirt, shaking his head as he stared at his feet. “S’not your fault. I know you don’t wanna.”

You stood there, wearing your thick fall coat that he had gotten you years ago, a suitcase by your side. “I love you.” 

Osamu’s heart cracked. You had been together for over a year now, having gotten together shortly after the first year began. So why? Why couldn’t you stay? 

“I love you too.”

*****

“‘Samu, you gotta stop moping!” 

“‘M not mopin’,” Osamu scowled, glaring at his brother. They had just been knocked out of the second round. God, and they were the favorites to win? What a joke. “You’re mopin’, ‘Tsumu.”

Atsumu shrugged, a fake smile plastered onto his face. “It was my fault anyways.”

Osamu rolled his eyes. “Maybe we shouldn’t have played around so much.” The twins walked down the exhibition hall when Osamu stopped short. “(N-Name)?” He stutters, feet moving faster than his mind could process. 

“Can I help you?” The girl turned around, tilting her head as her brow furrowed. Osamu released his grip on her red jacket, shaking his head.

“Sorry, you just looked like someone I know.”

“You’re Osamu, right? The wing-spiker of the infamous Miya twins?” 

“That’s right.” 

“I’m sorry to hear what happened. Karasuno’s a tough team, aren’t they?’

Osamu’s nose wrinkled. “Yeah.”

“Oh, sorry! I’m Sakura, I’m Nekoma’s manager.” She adjusted her bag. “They’re our destined rivals, y’know?” 

Nekoma? He had never heard of the team before. Had they even been to Nationals before?  

He shook his head, Sakura had kept talking. “Anyways, if you’re free, I’d love to show you around Tokyo? We can go grab a bite to eat or something.”

“Yeah, sure.” Osamu mumbled. He definitely didn’t want to hang around the stadium, especially since they were no longer playing. 

“Great!” She grinned. “Here’s my number. How does 6 sound?”

“Yeah, that’s fine.” 

Osamu absentmindedly entered the number into his phone. “Bye (Name).” He spun on his heels, heading back to the rest of his team.

“(Name)?” Sakura muttered, brows furrowed before shrugging. She was sure it wasn’t anything too serious. Unfortunately, that was a false hope because as soon as he had seen Sakura later that evening waiting outside his hotel, he had greeted her with (Name).

Sakura forced her lips into a smile, nodding stiffly as she nodded towards the bus. Over and over again, he called her (Name). “Oh, (Name), I think you’d like that! Let’s try that next, shall we?” as he pointed to a crepe place only to turn back and see Sakura instead. “Oh, sorry Sakura.” 

“That’s fine.” Her throat constricted. “Hey, Osamu.”

“Yes (Name)?” He looked up only to see her wincing. “I’m sorry, Sakura.” His head hung as he huffed, warm air blowing out of his nostrils.

“You must really care about this (Name) person huh?” Osamu shrugged. “Let’s just cancel this, shall we?” Tears pricked at her eyes as she swallowed. “I wouldn’t want to take you away from anyone.”

Before he could open his mouth to protest, she had already spun on her heels and disappeared down the street. “Fuck.” 

*****

“Hey ‘Samu.”

“Hey Suna.” Osamu plopped down at the lunch-table, scanning the group. “Odd question.”

Suna eyed the male over his bento before nodding slowly. “Shoot.”

“Heard from (Name) recently?”

Suna let out a soft sigh. “When are you gonna let her go, ‘Samu? She’s been gone for a year now. If you haven’t heard from her now, I don’t think you ever will.”

Osamu shrugged, an acrid taste in his mouth. “Can’t hurt to hope.”

“Hope for what?” Atsumu plopped down beside him, Ginjima on his other side. Ginjima tilted his head, waiting patiently for a response.

“Idiot is still hung-up over (Name),” Suna rolled his eyes causing Atsumu to scoff and roll his eyes. 

Osamu ignored his twin, looking at the Ginjima as hope bubbled in his heart. “Have you heard from her?”  

“Can’t say that I have, sorry ‘Samu.”

“It’s fine,” Osamu muttered, silver eyes cast to his meal. Though he had prepared his lunch, it tasted bad. Bland. Like his life had been ever since you left. He sighed again. Atsumu slammed his chopsticks down.

“That’s it.”

Startled, Osamu looked up at his twin. “‘Tsumu, what the -”

“You cannot stay sad over someone who didn’t even make the effort to stay in touch with her!” Atsumu growled, glaring at his twin. 

“Whoa, calm down, Atsumu,” Ginjima grabbed Atsumu’s shoulder, only for the male to shake him off.

“You’re so busy asking us about her and thinking that every girl you see is her, but have you even texted her yet?” 

Osamu swallowed, mouth dry. “She changed her number,” he mumbled. “That’s why I can’t get into contact with her.” 

“Oh.” 

*****

“Congratulations!” The glow of the massive fire was the only light on this cold March evening. The burn of alcohol stung Osamu’s throat as he took another swig. It was the annual graduation bonfire. All the third years had been invited, alcohol supplied by students with older siblings. He swung his head around, finding a familiar visage sitting on a bench by the fire. 

The haze of the beer clouded his judgment as he stumbled towards the body, grabbing it and pulling her face to his lips. Loud cheers and hoots filled the air at the sudden embrace. Irritation filled his body. There was no way he wanted to share his reunion with (Name) with a bunch of drunk idiots. Dragging the girl away towards the trees, he pressed her body into the tree as he captured her lips with his once more.

“(Name),” Osamu groans, bringing her closer to his body. 

Crack.

“Not a chance, Miya.” She spat before whirling around and storming off. Osamu blinked in his daze, hand cupping his cheek. All signs of his inebriation gone. That most definitely had not been you. He remained silent, slumping against the tree and sliding onto the ground. He buries his face into his arms, the well of tears spilling over as his body trembles. Why? Why can’t he get you out of his mind? 

*****

“Dude! You need to stop sulking,” Atsumu entered the room, walloping Osamu with a pillow and causing the silver-haired male to huff in anger. 

“What the fuck, Tsumu?” He snarled, throwing his phone beside him. 

Atsumu eyed the phone, unimpressed at what was on the screen as he snatched it up. “You still have these pictures of her?” He rolled his eyes, waving the phone out of Osamu’s reach. “She never reached out to you, and even if you wanted to, you can’t reach out to her, so why are you still hanging on? What hope do you have for this?” 

“I love her, Tsumu, what else do I need?” Osamu retorted, chewing on his bottom lip as his heart dropped. He loved you, he still did. No matter how many times he’s tried to be with someone else, taken someone else on a date, his mind always wanders back to you. It wasn’t his fault. After all, how could he throw away the year you two had been in a relationship after 4 years of pining after one another? 

*****

Osamu yawned, foot tapping anxiously as he waited for the light to change. He was in Tokyo, visiting prospective campuses. He hadn’t decided yet on which university he wanted to go to, and his parents had convinced him to visit Tokyo to see if he wanted to try the city-life. A flash of familiar (h/c) hair filled his vision. 

“(Name)?” He croaked, abandoning his post by the traffic light to sprint in your direction. You turned into a park, lost in thought until a sudden shout of your name had you turning back. 

“Samu!” 

“(Name)!” His body slammed into you, cradling your body into his. “You-You’re really here!” His fingers anxiously dug into your hips, praying that this wasn’t some type of illusion. “Is that really you? Can I still call you that?”

You smile softly, eyes prickling. “You can call me whatever you like, ‘Samu. It’s me.” 

His grip tightens around you as he buries his face into your hair. “I’m never letting you go again,” he breathed, tears dripping down his face.

Wetness met his shoulder as you buried your face into his shoulder, nails digging into his back. “Me either.”

*****

AN: again, my song-fic requests are closed, so please do not request any song-fics! thank you~

general taglist: @scrappydaisies​​​​​​​​ @newfriendjen​​​​​​​​  @kyomihann @cheerysparkle​​​​​​ @seiijixcia​​​​​ @shoyomeow​​​​ @atsunakaashi​​​​

Please contact me if you would like to be a part of my general taglist! 💞 Check out this link for information about my taglists.

[saviorinsilk]

New Life

Pairing: Cordelia Goode X Female OC

Warning: None

The sun was at the highest point of the day, misty clouds covering it, causing the air to not be as stifling as the day before. That made me happy as I had felt sick from the heat of the summer here in New Orleans, Louisiana. I wasn't used to weather like this and even though I had arrived at Miss Robichaux's Academy for Exceptional Young Ladies over two weeks ago, I didn't think I would ever get used to the deathly humidity that made my usually wavy hair a curly, frizzy mess. I had always worn my hair down before, but now I had to get used to a big messy bun sitting on the top of my head. Since that was, unfortunately, the only way it looked presentable. Honestly, though, my new hairstyle was the least of my problems.

Back in Canada, I had managed to live my 20 years of life being an extreme introvert. I had one friend that I kept from high school but I had already moved on from her in the mere 16 days I had been a country away. I had been used to being alone a lot, but that was an unfamiliar concept here at Miss Robichaux's. The only time you were alone was when you showered, but even then there was probably a girl blow drying her hair or fixing her makeup behind the curtain. I had learned pretty quickly to savour the fleeting moments when I was locked up in the bathroom, doing the one thing everyone agreed was not a group event. I Cherished those times. I tried very hard to be invisible but in a house full of witches that wasn't exactly easy. I had managed to avoid most conversations, except one with a girl named Nan, which thankfully had been very pleasant. I sat at the back of my classes and had somehow managed to talk myself out of having to do the introduction that I and a few other new girls had been asked to perform. The real miracle was that I had lucked out with my roommates. I got placed with a girl who only tiptoed into the room late at night once everyone was already in bed and a drama queen who had better things to do then talk to "my weird ass" as she put it. I took a long drag from the small joint between my fingers, the sweet taste of lemony haze filling my lungs. I felt my body relax as I pushed the smoke from my slightly parted lips. It seemed that with every exhale the stress in my mind and the pain in my muscles floated up to the sky as the air was filled with the pungent aroma. Back home I had had a medical marijuana license for my anxiety and it had been hell trying to survive without it in the south. I sat on the lawn in the backyard, studying the huge live oak trees that acted as a tall fence around the perimeter of the property. The freshly cut grass tickled my pale legs through the thin material of a bohemian style dress that Misty, a witch who lived in the house had given me. I had left the beautiful light blue shawl that she had given me as well, on my bed. The clouds provided enough protection from the scorching sun today. "It's beautiful out here." A soft voice spoke. I was dragged out of my thoughts by the feeling of my skin leaving my bones as I let out a loud yelp and my butt literally left the ground. My head snapped around and landed on the source of the noise. Cordelia Goode was standing only a few paces behind me, her head tilted up, eyes closed, feeling the warmth of the sun on her face. My heart skipped a beat and I had to fight my jaw from dropping open.

Miss Goode was the most beautiful women I had ever laid my eyes on. Her blond hair shone brightly as the sun broke through a cloud as if her beauty opened up the heavens. She wore a mint green, long-sleeved blouse made out of the breathable fluid material that I adored. Her petite but splendid curves were enhanced by the black loose-fitting pencil skirt that hugged them. I was completely and fully taken aback by her beauty, even though I had seen her many times.

I had hurried out of rooms every chance I got and when I couldn't avoid her, like during her class or morning meeting, I made sure to kept my eyes focused on something else. I accepted the fact that I was gay, but I sure as hell wasn't eager for anyone one else to know, given what happened last time someone did. Yet at this moment I couldn't tear my eyes away. Just looking at her was enough to give me butterflies. Cordelia smiled brightly and her now open, deep chocolate brown eyes settled on my wide pale blue eyes. "A strong sixth sense might not be an ability of yours," Cordelia said with a light chuckle. I'm not sure if it was her voice that brought me back to earth or if it was the loud bang of a hammer that came from a few houses down, but whatever it was suddenly made me aware of the fact that I indeed had a joint between my black slender nails. I quickly snuffed out the sourcing end of it into the grass in front of me and tucked it in my waist, bringing my knees up against my chest. "I'm so sorry Miss Goode! I'll never do it again, I promise. Please don't tell Myrtle." I stammered, my gaze locked on my bare feet that were sticking out from the bottom of my dress. My head spun as I thought of the consciences that were surely in store for me. One of our instructors, an older woman named Myrtle had given us a very serious talk after finding one of the girls drunk on the front porch after a long Friday night. We may have been away from our parents, but us young girls needed to remember that there was never a witch that achieved greatness by goofing around with drugs, over drinking or silly antics. I could still hear the intense tone she spoke in filling my head. Cordelia's eyes scanned me and her face rose into a sweet smile. "There's no need to be sorry Ellie. At least it's natural, unlike the insane amount of hard liquor some people in this city consume. Sometimes we all need a little help relaxing." Cordelia's voice was caring, her smile turning sympathetic. I was shocked and it took me a second to process all of it. All I could manage to do was to nod awkwardly before beginning to push myself off the plush ground. Cordelia's hand came up to stop me. "Sit." She commanded. I immediately obeyed, grabbing the joint in my hand as it slid away when my butt collided with the ground. "I'm on a short break and some fresh air would do me some good as well." She lowered herself next to me, her legs crossed out in front of her. I realized that she too was barefoot and for some reason it made me smile secretly to myself. Cordelia signed as she leans back on her outstretched arms, her head lazily turning towards me. She looked like an angel with the sun shining on her light pale skin. "We missed you at the morning meeting today. I was worried." Cordelia said. She was worried? About me? Those nasty metaphoric butterflies were back and they were frantic. When I just stared at her silently, Cordelia pursed her plump lips and narrowed her eyes slightly, as if she was concentrating on me. I shook my head and averted my eyes down to my fingers, that were busy rolling the joint against my skin. "I'm so sorry. I went for a walk this morning and I got...distracted. I know how important you said it is to be there on time. I messed up. I'll pick up some extra work around the house to make up for it." I offered, my guilty conscience getting the better of me. I tried to be tough but it didn't always go the way I wanted it to when I was confronted. "As much as I appreciate your civility, I'm not angry with you. I was just concerned because you have been very punctual since you got here." She said, worry in her eyes. I was embarrassed. I had made her worry. I may have been antisocial but I never wanted my actions to upset someone else. I had always been very empathetic and I felt ashamed of my actions. "Where did you walk? Around the Garden District?" Cordelia asked. Oh ya, I had walked around the neighbour for sure, I had studied every inch of it. "Ya, and a bit farther. I may have ended up at Staker's" I said sheepishly. Staker's was the small corner store a fair distance away. I could have guessed the reaction that Cordelia would have to this information but I wasn't excepting her discouraging tone to be quite as present as it was. "Elizabeth! That is at least a 20-minute drive away! What time were you up?" She demanded, her sunny disposer absent. God, she used my full name. No one had used that name since I got here. The last person to call me Elizabeth was my mother. "3:00 am," I said quietly as I peeked up at Cordelia's unhappy face. "Ellie you shouldn't be out on the streets at that time of night! It can get dangerous out there in the dark, especially for a witch and a beautiful young lady like yourself." Cordelia explained. I felt my cheeks getting warm and I could only imagine how red they must have been. Had Cordelia just called me beautiful? "I-I know. I just couldn't sleep because it was so hot and I had a real hankering for an iced tea and a crappy corner story donut." I stuttered, praying that my blushing wasn't too noticeable. Cordelia raised her eyebrows and her expression lighten a bit. "You could have asked one of your roommates where the fans were and I'm sure Zoe or one of the other girls with a license would have taken you to fulfil your cravings at lunch if you had asked," Cordelia said. She was so sweet but she didn't know the secrets some of the were hiding. I opened my mouth to argue that I didn't think the other girls liked me that much and that I had felt like I was suffocating in the house last night and had to make an escape before I saw my grave, but I couldn't. There was something about Cordelia that had an effect on me. I would go along with whatever came out of that woman's sweet lips. I'm sure that's how most cult members had felt towards their leaders and it had never done them any good but I was a hopeless romantic. "You're right. No more late night strolls. Promise." I settled with the polite response. After all, she was my Head Mistress AND my Supreme. Cordelia smiled, satisfied. "Good. Us witches need to be careful. Although there have been lots of people that have accepted us since we have gone public, there are still those out there that would like nothing more than to put a knife to your throat and play the violin." She warned, her words painting an image in my head that I would have been fine with never witnessing. It was true though and I had seen first hand how some people just couldn't deal with diversity. It had been a gloomy day when I had been in the Denver Airport, waiting patiently in line at Annie's Pretzels to get a treat for my connecting flight to New Orleans, when some nosy bitch glanced over my shoulder. I had been reading over a letter from Miss Robichaux's Academy for Exceptional Young Ladies, excited over the invitation to come to see the school for myself. Suddenly the lady exploded in rage, shouting crude language as well as slipping in the words freak, Satanist along with just screaming WITCH over and over. She must have seen the news. I had stood my ground, not about to lose my place near the front of the line. I wanted my soft warm pretzel and no lunatic was going to take that away from me. Luckily she had been in line with a level-headed person, that dragged her away before I had been angered to the point of showing her just how much of a "freak" I was. People had never been kind to those who were different and the deep south was a perfect example of that. I may have felt like I could take care of myself but Cordelia was right. I hadn't left my whole life behind in another country to be murdered within my first month of freedom. "I've been meaning to talk to you for the last couple days but things just keep getting in the way. Life always gets a bit crazy when we have new arrivals. I would like you to come to my office so we can catch up on how you have been settling in. Also, I'd like to do a quick evaluation of your abilities, due to the distressed state you were in when you arrived. It probably wasn't a fair judgment of your capabilities." Cordelia softly placed her hand over mine, stopping my fidgeting fingers. Her skin was warm and surprising soft like silk. The contact was heavenly and I could have stayed in this moment forever if the universe had allowed it. But the anxiety crept back with the thought of the distressed state I had indeed been in when arriving at the academy. I hadn't thought about it today until now. It had been nice to live in ignorance for the short time. "Do you think you would be able to swing by after dinner tonight? Don't worry about the dishes, one of the other girls will take your shift." Cordelia said, answering my question before I even had a chance to ask it. It was almost as if she could see my thoughts in writing. God, that would be a disaster if it were true. All the innocent I projected would be gone with the brutality of my unholy thoughts. I liked the idea of skipping the chores that we had been giving since last week when the number of girls was too much for the staff and the few maids to clean up after. "Manual Labour builds character" Kyle, the butler had told the whiny girls in the kitchen. "Of course Miss. Goode." I replied, forcing a smile, across my nervous expression. It's not like I minded the thought of being alone with the women of my dreams but at the same time, the idea caused my anxiety-ridden demons to claw there way out of their dark hiding place. "Call me Cordelia, just between the two of us," Cordelia said, patting my hand that she still held tenderly. I couldn't help but smile goofily. "I better get back inside, any moment we are likely to hear Myrtle's voice." Cordelia laughed, squeezing my hand before she pushed her slender body up, gently wiping the loose grass that had stuck to her skirt. Cordelia smiled down at me. "I'll see you at dinner." She said before turning her back. No force could pull my gaze away from her as she gracefully made her way to the back door. I blinked when she disappeared into the house, the door swinging shut with a thud behind her. I couldn't help but smile to myself as the last few minutes replayed in my head. I glanced down at the grass in front of me, my eyes settling on the tarnished patch from where I had put my joint out. I extended my hand, lightly covering it. My eyes fluttered closed and I felt a familiar tingling in my fingers as the sunlight caressed my face. A surreal image of a luscious field of natural grasses lay behind my eyelids. The wind blew the praise plants that I had seen every day for the last 20 years of my life, as I began to feel the grass beneath my skin tickling between my digits. I wiggled my fingers slightly as I continued to study the blades of grass in my mind. After a few moments, I opened my eyes lazily and was pleased to see the once grey and burnt grass had grown taller than the lawn around it, and the colour repaired to the deep shade of green. I giggled and let my body weight pull me back, releasing a deep sigh as my body collided with the ground under me. The sun shone beautifully through the live oaks above. Maybe things would turn around. After all, this was a safe haven and if happiness lived somewhere, it would surely be in a place like this.

[oncetheearl]

.Primary Colors

Grell Sutcliff

warnings: none, it's mildly fluffy prose

a/n: Written for @saturnberry. I hope you had a nice Valentine's Day. Because there were so many mentions of Grell in your posts I knew right off that's who I wanted to write for, though admittingly I feel like I don't have a good enough hold on Grell's personality (hence why I avoided a ship with another canon character.) This is technically Grell x Reader as it uses instances of second person; however, the gender of the reader is left open ended.

In a world where everyone is designated a color—an indicator of who they were to become as they grew older—you were born an unremarkable cluster of blues, not bright enough to add to the sky, too morbid for the painters to use.

It was as though everywhere you went, people outshone you. In school the other children were wondrous blends, and your shade felt understated, a waste of anyone's attention. Even the other blues were brighter than you: one girl you likened to the ocean, a sapphire crystal—so warm a shade it leaked into the atmosphere. In class you sat beside a yellow, a cheery snaggletooth boy with sincere eyes behind coke frames, a penchant for silly games, and a willingness to try anything. You knew the rainbow, a brown—tough as nails. She hardly flinched at an encounter with broken glass. A dark grey who only spoke to you once. Even a pink, who laughed with the purples. It came from his uncle, he told you one morning, picking dandelions from the field beside the schoolhouse.

You on the other hand, sat beneath a tree with roots ripped and picked weeds out the Earth, never at home enough in your own shade to cajole with the others. It'd all be different when you grew up, you considered. Adults weren't like this; they'd treat you better, teach you there was never anything wrong with your color—because surely, it couldn't have mattered in the real world.

Yet, when you grew, your sense of loss grew with you. 

The world was organized by color files in a dusty cabinet, by designation and molds that weren't intended for expansion. Bosses had those they preferred. Oranges made good leaders, they said, and greens could be consultants if they wanted. Trichromatics were sought after inclusions. But blues were in abundance, and therefore mere grunts, worker ants; those that populated the factories of London's lower regions.

Needless to say, you did not need to ask in order to know what designation the casualties were; some accident in a factory you heard. But you always waited for your carriage here and chose to do so regardless, even though the air agitated.

As you watched the road ahead, out came someone, bemoaning their line of work (an investigator, you wondered? who else would be in there?), glasses askew, near knocking you forward into the pavement before the fact you should move presented itself to you.

The speed in which you felt your chest constrict was maddeningly slow (surely an instant, but forever in your head based on the lump in your throat.) Away you had looked, heart an unruly child turning pans into drums. You prayed that no one could hear it sputtering beneath your coat, that the stranger in red couldn't sense your nerves. The stranger was definitely a red, just as their clothes would have said. You could tell by the mannerisms, those teeth, the flop of hair into the vision. The annoyance that the rain kept pouring and pouring as though the sky had a rip.

But then that stranger gave you a look, and said something, and for a brief moment you forgot to add air to your lungs, the necessity of breathing.

You can't recall what you were told... cliche of love at first sight, and all. It could have been mundane complaints about how the sky was drenching you both, or questioning of why you seemed incapable of looking upward, or where White Chapel was—but you know it had to have been something sweet like 'what's someone gorgeous doing out here looking so glum' or 'what a pretty coat, where can I get one?'

(If not, why were you so flustered, then?)

You would later put a name to this stranger, but for now it did not matter. Grell had been complaining about the storm, eyes upward, expression turned near startled when you extended a hand and professed lunch on the Eastside, my treat, too willing to say please.

Oh, God. What possessed you to, you wonder? You were not spontaneous, or the type to offer lunch to a stranger in the dark. Reds and blues did not go together—because neither understood the other. Though it wasn't such a mystery why, the rain reminds. Red was your favorite color. That jigsaw smile, the collision of a million things into one, twisted upward, and you knew, no longer had to wonder: you liked red, even if it belonged to another.

And Grell brought out the red in you. Made you so always willing to run, to say I'm hungry, let's have dinner. Promise we'll have candles or flowers or a band that plays Saint-Saëns in fantasia.

I'll make it loud and bold, I'll make it red—because you wear it so.

How about the pier? The symphony? A massage—I'll do the planning.

Your hair is quite long, can I comb through it with only the tips of my fingers?

One day you had stopped to ponder, why is it I love red, I wonder?

Why not orange, or blue, or the shade of wet feathers? Why something so loud and abrasive and untamed. Untethered. Why stand out when it's comfortable in the rafters? Why did you feel more red than you were? But maybe those feelings didn't matter.

Your grandmother was a blue, and so was your father. Your mother had developed it one noon as a girl, came down with it like fever. It ran in your blood, slept in your grandfather's genepool, was inherited in your skin, lived in the liversplotches on your cousin's lips. You were a blue, and that was not worth denying.

You liked your books, the ones with the spines wrinkled. You drunk tea in evenings without sound. Your dwelling had seen better. Your wall clock swing was musicality; oh how boring, you'd imagine Grell would think.

Your shade of blue was mute, tired. A housecat slithered under a creaking armoire. An old weeping oak. A desire to rest before time ran out. But for all the inherent blueness of you, Grell never complained: and that confused you. Not even where you lived; an old building on a simple street with cramped beige walls and floors unnaturally even. At least if they were lopsided you'd feel more unique.

(Luckily, Grell had only insulted your abode once, when a long strand of red had gotten caught in the spinning wheel next to your bed and yanked from the scalp. It was in jest—you hoped—though Grell had been incensed and seemed alarmingly serious about cutting the thing apart...)

Fixing makeup in the mirror, spraying you with scents, Grell spoke where you preferred to listen; 'try this' 'no this smells much better' 'a maiden must always be adorned in fanciful arrangements' 'roses are my favorite, you know?'

Oh, did you ever. And so was bright weather, pretty corsets, lace feathers, heels that made the calves go on forever. Every utterance, complaint, and silly trait was inscribed in a tongue known to no one in the valley of your heart. You were a blue after all, and blues were dutiful lovers. Had memories like harp strings taunt; sharp. And how could you ever forget anything about Grell when there was always more to learn.

But you wanted to share that brightness. You'd walk and consider, could I make red if I mixed others? If I took his orange, my blue, that woman's green, maybe a splash of pink for authenticity... would I have a said shade like yours, a color that says 'look at me, I'm worth beholding'?

Maybe the rafters aren't so pretty. Maybe I'd like them all to look at me even if there's no smiling. Be seen. Red stops everyone, always has them looking. But you cannot make red from anything other. You are born red. You are born yourself. You would never have that shade, ever.

Sometimes you both spoke of what it would be like to be reborn, who either of you imagined would be the other.

Grell would be a supernova; grand, the death of something and the birth of another, a force you can't stop. A contradiction, a paradox; the brute with the love of flowers. Grell was red to the core. Wore it as though it was summer. Red was fond. Red was sticking up for your lover. Red was passion, and great things, and goosebumps from too much laughter. A person who in death, found that bold was always inside them. The poet's encouragement to be yourself. Something strange: spring in the snow, a funeral full of smiles. Red and worthwhile.

Grell hoped you'd still be you, to your wonder, because no one knew Grell better. You smiled when you were told, and that's because you're blue, hun. No one would understand those little details, loves, see so well beneath the water. Only a blue would. Could. A blue keeps the order while maintaining the spontaneity of a boat ride at the shore.

It was because you were blue. Because you were you. And blue is a nice color, Grell told you. Imagine how boring it'd be if we were all red or violet or green.

'I'd be bored'

You laughed, because maybe there was a point. Maybe blue wasn't such a bad color to be, because balance is pretty, a necessary evil. Grell had a flair for losing boots in the gutter, sneaking out to join the ball, and you liked picking up Cinderella's lost shoes. You've got a lover who loves a kiss on the hand, and you, a romantic from reading at all hours. Together you'd make blends and yellows and greens and purples; the shade of sallows, the sandy crunch of the desert, capture the sunrise's caricature.

I love your red, you tell. And Grell thinks your blue is quite special. Because it's red and blue together that unlocks the rainbow.

[katehuntington]

Title: He Is The Reason Author: Kate Huntington (please do not copy my work) Fandom: Supernatural Characters: Reader, Dean Winchester Pairing: Dean x Reader Summary: After a case almost goes wrong, Y/N reaches her breaking point. She tries to wash the memories away in the shower, but the only one who can really help her, is Dean. Warnings: NSFW, 18+ only (if you’re under 18, don’t read any further), angst, trauma, panic attack, smut, shower sex, oral sex (female receiving), fingering. Dean being absolutely amazing. Word Count:  2757 words Author’s note: Kate writing smut, it’s a pretty rare sighting. But, especially for you: emotional smangst. Thank you, @kittenofdoomage , @theyaremyveryownthoughts and @girl-with-a-fandom-fettish for being awesome betas! You are all a huge support. Hope you all enjoy!

     It’s way past midnight when the hunters entered the bunker. Exhausted and worn, Y/N dragged her feet to the showers, muttering to the boys that she needed some time. Clearing her sore throat, she closed the door and turned the faucet, before stripping herself from her dirty clothes. 

     Now, with the water running and steam spreading in the small space, she is staring at her reflection in the mirror while leaning on the sink. Moist builds up on the glass, but she doesn’t need a clear vision to detect the dark circles under her sunken eyes, the dirt on her dry skin and the blood in her tangled hair. Holy shit, you look like a stack of train wrecks.

     Her appearance matches her mental state. In the Impala, between balancing on the edge of unconsciousness and vivid tainted memories mixed together with a nightmare, she gave today’s outcome a lot of thought. God, this case could have gone so terribly wrong. Once again the hunters beat the odds, because honestly, what were the chances of the Winchesters finding her? 

     Demons took her, waiting for the opportune moment when she headed out by herself, to pick up some pizza. A team of five ambushed her in the little Italian place down Main Street in Lebanon, killing the staff while they were at it. It was a set up and clear as day that they wanted to catch Dean’s precious girlfriend alone. Payback, they called it, as the torture went on for hours on end. She knew she was being used for bait. She also knew the Winchesters would show at some point. The question was, if they were going to be on time. One wrong remark and those black eyed bastards would have killed her, just for sport. Anything to get revenge, for all of their kind that Sam and Dean sent back to Hell over the years. 

     Those three days that she was chained to an autopsy table in an abandoned morgue left enough marks as it is, though. Handling fear is in the job description, but fuck, she was terrified. They got creative. They undressed her, tied her up completely naked, cutting her delicate skin with dull knives. They pulled nails from her toes and beat her to the edge of unconsciousness, but never over it, because they didn’t want her to have a break from the pain. They used their powers to twist her intestines into bends she didn’t even know were possible and there were many times that she was sure something had burst inside of her. She trembled, cried, silently wished for Dean, the image of him the only thing that kept her hopes up. She prayed to Cas, even though the place was warded. When that didn’t work, she prayed to Chuck, but since when does God ever give a shit, right? 

     Leaving her blurry reflection for what it is, she turns away and gets in the shower. Water almost hot enough to burn her skin falls down, but she doesn’t flinch. The dirt, the filth, it has to wash off. It feels like acid is pouring into the breaks of her skin, but she bites down the pain. She needs to get clean in order to leave the memories behind. But let’s face facts; not even boiling hot water could wash away this trauma. 

     As she stands there under the hot rain, her breathing picks up. Tears mix with the water coming from the shower head as she rests her forehead against the cool tiles, trying to find support, might she collapse. With her eyes closed she cries, arms crossed in front of her chest protectively. There’s nothing left for the tough as nails, brave, and independent woman that she thought herself to be. These three days have been too much, forcing her to lose the game she used to play so well. I can’t do this anymore, she thinks to herself. 

     Her knees are about to give out, but before she  sinks down on the tiled floor, she hears the doorknob turn. Startled she pulls in a sharp breath, holds it and exhales slowly, trying to calm herself. Man up, wipe your tears away. Dean can't see you like this. But the sounds of her cries must have carried further than she wanted. That’s why he’s here, isn’t it? Deciding that there's no point in hiding it anymore, she waits, listening to the sound of fabrics wrinkling and rubbing as he strips down. The sound of his footsteps approaching the shower. The sound of the curtain sliding aside, letting a cool draft lick at her ankles. 

     The moment Dean lays eyes on her broken body, his heart crumbles. The woman for whom he would do anything to make her happy, has gone through hell. She got caught in the crossfire in this war he is fighting. She got hurt, because those sons of bitches knew it would hurt him. Guilt twists in his gut when he notices the cuts and bruising on her naked form. He has to make it right, he has to take the pain away. He owes her that much, after everything she has done for him.

     Contradicting thoughts cause her to remain unresponsive, her back turned to Dean while leaning against the tiles, shutting him out. He shouldn't be a witness of the mess that she is, but deep down he is all she wants right now. Without words Dean gives her exactly that, because within moments she feels his warm hands snake around her waist, after which he carefully pulls her back against his chest. His touch does something to her, something she doesn’t expect. One would expect the gesture to give her strength, but instead she falls to pieces in his arms.       “Shhh… I got you. I got you,” he hushes, his chin on her shoulder as he wraps his body around her a little tighter, offering his girl the shelter she desperately needs. “I know. I’m here now... You’re safe.”

     Moved by his affection she grabs his forearms and squeezes them, letting her tears run free as she rests the back of her head against his chest. Allowing herself to let out a sob, her walls fall. Physical pain rips through her chest as it tightens, causing it to be impossible to breathe. The breakdown isn’t just led on by this case, the life, the close call with death. It’s because she and Dean almost got separated for good, the one person she cannot imagine being without. They almost lost each other, and she can’t hide the fear that thought alone brings along. Not from him. The most intimate feelings and her scariest thoughts are safe with Dean, because he’s familiar with every single one of them, too.      “Breathe… Just breathe,” he soothes, holding her close as he can.      Fully accepting his support, she turns around in his arms, pressing herself against his strong frame. Still unable to stop herself from crying, she opens her hand and spreads her fingers over his chest, her cheek against his heart as she listens to his rhythm of life. She senses the kiss he leaves on her hair, but she doesn't see that Dean closes his eyes, moved as he does so. Her breathing evens out to meet the same pace as his soft caress on her back, soft whimpering fading into the sound of the water raining down on them. 

     Without breaking the intimacy, Dean takes the shower gel from the small shelf in the corner of the shower and squeezes the lotion out of the bottle into his hand. Hoping it will relieve some of the stress, he spreads it out over her shoulders and back, running his fingers over tense muscles as the soap starts to foam. Eventually she stops hitching, quieted by his touch as she leans against him, feeling his hands on tight knots between her shoulder blades. It hurts slightly as he rolls his fingers over the sore spots, but with every movement the tension in her back is relieved a little bit more, until the pain is as good as gone. Dean continues washing the dirt away, soaking the blood from her hair and letting the water take it into the drain. The way he takes care of her is so gentle and soothing, that she feels much better by the time she’s washed clean. 

     Y/N lifts her head and looks up into the sea of emerald green in his eyes, taking him in. Water droplets chase each other down from his shoulders, beads hanging from his hair. He probably didn't shave for days, since a week old scruff frames his strong features. Dark circles tell the story of long, worried days, but right below them playful freckles are sprinkled on his cheeks and nose. A small smile forms on her lips as she counts a couple, triggering Dean’s eyes to become a little brighter. For a few more seconds they dwell in that moment where they just look at each other, surrounded by mist and comfortably warm water, but then she closes the distance and tiptoes to kiss him. As their lips meet, both push everything that has happened to the back of their minds. It's still there, though, allowing the unconditional love they feel for each other to magnify. It could have been over. She could have died today. Yet here they are.

     He kisses her back with such passion that nothing else matters anymore. With her eyes closed she lets her hands explore his wet skin, moving up his toned chest, running up his neck to cup his face. Drops bounce off her shoulders and run down the lines of her bruised form, which Dean handles very gently, aware of how fragile she is right now. Arms crossed behind his neck she pulls him closer, pressing her body against his. She  wants him, she needs him, because who knows when it all might end? It’s the positive side of surviving such a traumatic event; one only then understands what’s truly important in life. It teaches a person to live in the moment, to treasure all that's beautiful and appreciate the time that is offered. 

     Willingly, Dean follows her cue and pushes his hips against her, his fingers raking through her hair. The water washes away the worry that weighed heavy on him and he closes his eyes, water drops dripping down his face and clinging to his eyelashes. He listens to the sound of the shower and Y/N’s respiration between kisses, rhythmic and intriguing. After slowly turning her around he pulls his girl closer, her back now against his chest, nuzzling his nose against her skin as he kisses her shoulder tenderly. God, it feels good to have her in his arms, to be intimate with her again. I found her. She’s still here. It’s the only thing he can think of as his hands trail over her breasts, then continue to follow the fine edges down her body. 

     Captivated by his touch that feels similar to the water seeking its way down her skin, so light, she lays her head back against his chest. Baring her neck for him to kiss, she moves her hands over his, fingers interlocking as she follows his movements. 

     Every touch says ‘I missed you.’ Every breath whispers ‘I’m so glad you’re alive’.

     Shivers run down her spine when his fingers slip down to the most intimate part of the female body, parting her folds. Closing her eyes she whimpers, letting him build her up as she holds still. While his lips gingerly brush her ear, his index finger swirls over  her sensitive nub. The slow-building high that starts to cloud her mind pushes the nightmares away, bathing her in a peaceful bliss. For a little while her train of thought stops completely and all she feels are the sparks that are triggered by his fingertips. 

     She lets him treat her, not fighting him for dominance like she usually does. Tonight he takes care of her, glueing the broken pieces back together. Curses won’t be falling from their lips, the sex will not be rough and fast paced. After the horror she endured, he wants to be tender. She needs to be reminded that it’s not just darkness and misery. She needs to be reminded that she can always come home to him.

     Dean slowly turns her around, facing her now, the water coming down gathering in a puddle when he presses his lower body against her. His lips don’t linger on hers long and he begins his descent, leaving a trail of goosebumps on her collarbone, then her breasts. 

     He gets on his knees, the pads of his fingers pressing into her hips. For a second he looks up to make sure she’s okay, and when he finds her looking down on him in anticipation, want swimming in her dark pupils, he presses a kiss below her belly button. Without rushing, he traces her inner thighs with his thumbs, holding her still as he laps at her vulva breezily, but then goes deeper, delving in his tongue. 

     She steadies herself with one hand against the slippery wall and the other on his strong shoulder, her jaw lowered and eyes shut. A pleading sigh escapes her when he parts from her heat for a second, but then he lifts her leg over his shoulder, granting him a better angle. Droplets pour down on them, rolling down her stomach, adding to her juices on Dean’s lips. He now attends her sweet spot, flicking, drawing figures, drinking her in. She grips him tighter, her soft moans filling the moist air. Her legs begin to give out and she buckles forward, her abdomen spasming now that he’s picking up the pace. Dean holds her up, though, giving her the support she needs. 

     In no rush, Dean slows down, parting her lips and giving her a minute to recover, before he intensifies the motions again. This time he brings her closer to the edge, knowing her body well enough to recognize the signs. Her calling his name, first a whisper, but a little louder with each time. Her pulling him even closer with the leg hanging over his shoulder, her heel digging in his back as she tenses up. Her breath hitching, not from crying, but from the sheer pleasure he’s offering her. 

     She begins to tremble, her grip on his shoulder so tight that he can feel her fingernails leaving crescent shapes in his skin. Then she comes, a last grunt pushed from her throat. He listens to her respiration, how she struggles to control it while he works her through her orgasm, but then he lets her leg slide off his shoulder. He gazes up at the woman who has his heart, making sure she has found her footing before he rises up. Dizzy, she opens her hazy eyes, dwelling in ecstacy. The drizzle leaves tiny drops on her face, spread across her flushed cheeks. 

     “You alright?” he checks, his voice soft.      She nods and buries her face in the nape of his neck, still catching her breath. He sighs and folds his arms around her, letting her lean against him as he presses a kiss on her soaked hair. Being able to hold her after everything that happened is a blessing, one that Dean is grateful for. He closes his eyes, breathing in the scent of her shampoo, the warm rain still coming down on them. This is it, this moment, right here. This is the moment neither of them thought they were ever going to experience again. Emotion hits him suddenly and he hugs her a little tighter.

     “I wanna stay here forever,” she whispers.      Dean swallows thickly. “Me too.”

     As she stands there, sheltered by his body, she realises something: He isn’t just the reason she’s still alive, he is the reason she wants to be alive. Maybe that's why he was the only one on her mind when her life was on the line. Maybe that’s why she feels healed, like she was touched by an angel, even though her injuries are still evident. 

     She lifts her chin, taking in the handsome man that is her partner. He tucks his head down, a small smile forming before he kisses her softly. Maybe that’s why, when his lips leave hers for a short moment, she whispers ‘I love you’, out loud, for the very first time.

Thank you 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).

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[secondgenerationnerd]

CADMUS-aftermath

Just a few drabbles of what happened after my CADMUS fic for a few of the other kids/families.

Tw on Colin x Mil’s section: descriptions of Colin’s experience with Bane and Scarecrow

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Superstar

Hearts still aching from their conversation with Charlie, Mar’i and Jon check on their younger children. Laney snores in one of the hospital beds, curled up next to M&M. Mar’i lays a warm blanket over the two, with a kiss to their heads and a small prayer to X’hal.

“Momma? Daddy?” Peter yawns, sitting up.

Jon sits on the edge of his bed, pushing curls from his son’s eyes, “Hey, buddy. How are you feeling?”

“’m okay.” He rubs his eyes. Sitting on the bed next to him, Mar’i runs her fingers through Peter’s dark hair, “Is Charlie okay?”

“Yeah, baby, she’s okay. She just wanted to be alone,” Mar’i kisses his head, “You sure you’re okay, sweet boy? Daddy and I just want to make sure.”

Resting his head on her chest, Peter sniffs, “I got scared.”

“That’s okay, buddy.” Jon promises, taking his hand, “It was scary.”

“I’m sorry, Daddy.”

“Why are you sorry? You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“They took Asha and Charlie. I was too scared to do anything.” Peter rubs his eyes, “I was a scaredy-cat.”

“Peter. They had weapons. You didn’t have your powers. But, when it was important for us to get information, you got it to us. I don’t think you were a scaredy-cat.” Jon smiles softly, “In fact I’d say you’re a hero.”

Peter blinks and looks up at his father, “But I’m not like you?”

“What do you mean, baby?” Mar’i asks.

“I’m not strong like you and Daddy, Momma. My powers aren’t like yours...”

Not for the first time that hour, Jon and Mar’i exchange a knowing look. Jon gently lifts Peter into his arms, “Peter. Do you know what Momma and I did in the field before we had you and your sisters?”

“Saved people?”

“True.” Jon smiles at his son, “Momma and I are what most people call heavy hitters. Because our powers included super strength and it was harder for us to get hurt, we were first line of offense and defense. But. We weren’t the only ones out there.”

“Everyone on our team knew what their best role was and we played into those strengths a lot.” Mar’i explains.

“So....who am I like, Momma?”

“You’d be like your Aunt Irey and Uncle Jai.” Mar’i caresses Peter’s cheek, “They were the ones that made sure all the civilians were safe and away from danger.”

“And like your Aunt Lian.” Jon notes. “She was our eye in the sky. Anything she saw, she told us.”

“Sweet boy, there is more than one way to be a hero. Right now, Daddy and I want you to know how proud of you we are and how much we love you.”

Tearing up, Peter presses his cheek against Mar’i’s palm, grabbing Jon’s arms. “I love you too.”

———————————————————————

Speeding Arrow

The rocking chair creaks softly. The girls fell asleep hours ago, but Lian can’t put them down. She should, she knows she should, but she can’t. Milly yawns softly, pressing her face into Lian’s chest. Her throat hurts after singing and humming their lullaby for so long, but she keeps going.

“Li?” Eyes lifting to the door, she sees her husband rocking their sleeping son. Jai looks like she feels. “....I think they can sleep with us tonight...”

“Okay...” she stands slowly, keeping both their girls comfortable. The almost five year olds (five, when did that happen?) snooze peacefully as their mother carries them down the hall. Laying the kids down between them, Luke dozing between his big sisters, Jai and Lian lay beside them for a while.

Lian trails her fingers through Lily’s dark hair, still blue at the ends from when they’d let the girls dye it. The memory of bright smiles, loud laughs, and two more blue haired girls make her smile a little.

Only for the memory of her dolls screaming as they’re pulled away, crying for her to save them, furrows her brow.

Jai’s unsure voice breaks the silence, “Luke...Luke asked if the people that took them....were like Thawne...”

Her heart sinks, “He remembers Thawne?”

“He remembers a bad man. Being scared when someone moved fast toward him.” Her husband reaches a protective arm over their children, face too heavy with worry. “Remembers flinching and my face...”

Lian lays her arm over her husband’s. Both of them keeping the sleeping children safe. Both of them knowing the thoughts racing through the other’s head-the guilt, the fear, the anger, the self loathing...

That’s what happens when you marry your best friend.

“You’re a great dad, you know that, Jai?” Lian whispers. “You’re kind. Patient. Silly. You make them feel safe, Jaibae.

“Helps they have a great mom too.” He murmurs back, tucking a lock of blue hair behind her ear. “You’re hardworking. Awe-insipiring. Strong willed. You make them fearless, Li.”

“Well....” Lian glances at Milly beside Jai, “I think they do the same for us.”

“Yeah....I love you, Lian.”

“I love you too, Jai.”

———————————————————————

Colin x Milagro

Colin knew they’d have this conversation with Ben one day. Knew it when they started fostering him. Knew it would be this hard.

He just didn’t think it would be this soon.

After everything that happened at the CADMUS facility, Ben had questions. Tough questions without easy answers. Questions Colin

“So...those are your powers, Dad?”

Colin can’t meet his older son’s mismatched eyes, “Yeah, buddy. Those are my powers.”

“Were you born with them? Like Charlie and Peter?”

“Mijo.” Milagro keeps her voice even, eyes glancing between her husband and Ben, “How your dad got his powers....it wasn’t a good thing. Someone-someone kidnapped him. They experimented on him.”

Colin hears screaming. His throat burns. Sees bloody nails dragging along stone, desperately trying to escape. The laughing. All the laughing at his screams. The needles pushing into his skin. His blood feeling like fire as it rushes through his veins...

Almost 20 years later, and Colin still remembers it like it was yesterday.

Ben’s soft voice pulls him out of the dark memories, “But...they-they got put away? In jail, right, Dad?”

“Ben...the peop-criminals that hurt me have been put away...but they break out. A lot. Mamí and I have put them away a few times. They always break out.”

Sitting quietly for a second, Ben looks at his mother, “Does Maxie have Dad’s powers?”

“No!” Milagro takes Ben’s hands. “Right after he was born, Aunt Irey and Uncle Jai ran a test on Max’s blood. He doesn’t have the metagene or your father’s powers.”

Colin thinks back on Mil’s pregnancy. Fear hitting him hard the second he realized that Max could have the metagene, that his child could suffer with the same burning, aching, debilitating pain Colin does. He spent so many sleepless nights praying, begging God to please have mercy on his son, that Max deserves better.

To say he cried when Irey and Jai told him the test results were negative would be an understatement.

Colin keeps his eyes fixed on the floor. He doesn’t want to see the look on Ben’s face. The fear. The disgust. The hatred—

Two small arms wrap around Colin’s shoulders. Ben rests his chin on his father’s bent head. “I love you, Daddy.”

“Ben—“

“You’re my dad. We made a deal, ‘member?” Ben says, “Love you for ever no matter what.”

Colin fights his tears as he hugs his son back,

[the100blake-blog]

Bellamy Blake x Reader fanfic part one

Note: Hi guys! I really hope you enjoy this fic that follows the reader during her journey on the gronud! Please send me feedback!

Summary: How does (y/n) survive on the ground without the illegal drugs from the ark? Can she cope without them or will the stress of the other delinquents push her to the edge? Also, how will she react when she sees Bellamy on the ground too, the boy who betrayed her. 

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You moved swiftly through the room. You took in the smell of the drugs that hung from the plants. You quickly stuffed the weed into your bag before moving to the door. You took one more look around the room to make sure you hadn't left any tracks, then you left.

Things were tough on the ark. The drugs were strictly for medical use, but ever since Monty and Jasper let you take a puff of weed at their party, you were hooked. What you were doing was illegal. Monty and Jasper had both been put away for stealing weed. But you were careful not to get caught, that was until today. You quietly shut the door behind you and you ran forward, heading straight for your room. You would do this weekly, but you told yourself you had to stop. The addiction was getting stronger and you didn't want to let it take over.

You ran down the long corridors of the ark, looking around nervously incase you bumped into a guard. The only sounds you heard were the echoes of your feet against the floor.

A sharp sound shot through the air and you came to an immediate halt. You were out of breath but you tried to keep your breathing quiet. You could have sworn that was the sound of a gunshot. You looked over your shoulder and then forward again. You wondered what had happened, but you pushed your curiosity aside and started walking forward. You picked up the pace a little and looked once more over your shoulder. Bad idea. You turned your head back round but your body collided with another and you were thrown to the floor.

You let out a small cry and saw your drugs now scattered around you on the floor. You looked up and saw a frantic looking guy staring at you. He was out of breath as well, you noticed. You stared at each other for what felt like ages and you began to recognise him. That was Bellamy Blake, the one whose sister hid under the floor. Your eyes flickered down to his hand which held a gun, and then you looked back into his eyes.

Loud voices broke the deafening silence between you and you twisted your head to the right. The guards were coming. You looked forward but only saw a blank wall. Bellamy was gone and the gun was left in front of you. Your eyes grew wide at the scene around you. You were surrounded by stolen weed and even worse, a gun that did some damage. You scrambled to your feet and started to run, leaving behind the mess. Your plan didn't work though. From both sides guards were running to the scene. You were trapped.

Marcus Kane led the guards down the hall and towards you. There was no point running now, you couldn't escape. You were backed up against the wall as Kane approached you.  

"Is all of this your doing?" Kane asked, his voice stern.

You looked at Kane dumbfounded. How would he react about all of this? He was close friends with your parents until they got floated. He had promised your parents that he would keep a close watch on you, make sure you didn't get into trouble. He did a shit job.

"Yes- I mean no, not all of it" you stuttered, your voice shaking as you avoided his eyes.

"Jaha's hit!" You heard a guard shout from the room down the hall.

Your eyes grew wide as you looked back to Kane. He stared at you, not believing you could do such a thing. But you couldn't, there was no way you could shoot Jaha, even after floating your parents. You started shaking your head as Kane reluctantly ordered a guard to cuff you.

"Take her to the dropship with the rest of the delinquents" Kane said, avoiding your eyes.

Where? What the hell was a dropship?

"Kane I didn't do it! You have to believe me!" You pleaded, but the guards were already dragging you away. You silently cursed under your breath as you thought of Bellamy. How could that bastard leave you hanging like this? He deliberately left the gun with you so he could save his own ass. What a dick.

You headed towards the cells in which criminals under 18 were kept, but to your surprise the guards led you right passed it.

"Where are you taking me?" You asked.

The guard didn't reply but only pulled you further. You rolled your eyes In annoyance as you approached a door. It was latched shut until the guard twisted it open. You were pushed inside and shocked to see all the delinquents strapped into seats. All eyes were on you as the guard pushed you into a chair, strapping you down. Your cuffs were taken off and replaced with a thicker metal cuff on your left wrist. Then the guard left without another word. You noticed a few people you used to hang out with before they got locked up.

You saw Murphy, Harper, Monty and Jasper among the other faces of criminals.

"What the hell is going on?" You asked no one in particular.

"Apparently Jaha thought it was a good idea to send us to the ground." Murphy answered, licking his lips as he eyed you in his chair. You ignored his flirtatious gesture as you always had done. You and Murphy had a bit f history. you were there for each other when your parents got floated, and when you put two sad people in a room together, it usually ends in a mistake. One thing led to another and you ended up sleeping together. But that was a one time thing and you never allowed it to happen again, no matter how hard Murphy tried.

"We're going down to see if the ground is survivable." A blond girl said, matter of factly.

You looked over at her and realised who she was. Clarke Griffin, one of the privileged. You never had anything against those who had parents in power. You would have been one of the 'privileged' if your parents were still alive, but now you lived amongst the workers, sharing rooms with different people.

A low rumble started and the whole place shook. You heard murmurs from above and you looked up to find there was another floor that must have been full of other delinquents. You held onto your armrest and dug your nails into them. It just dawned on you that this trip could kill you. No one has been to the earth in hundreds of years. The air could still be toxic, and the collision of the landing could also kill you all. You felt your heart speed up as the whole ship wobbled. You looked around and locked eyes with Murphy. I guess his face would be the last you would see if you died. You squeezed your eyes shut as the rattling noise of the ship exploded in your ears. You imagined the ship plummeting into the earths atmosphere and you prayed that today wasn't your last day.

All of a sudden everyone jolted forward.

"What happened?" Jasper croaked out, his voice hoarse. "Are we dead?"

"The parachute has deployed. We'll hit the ground in about five minutes" Clarke said, a small smile spread across her face as she realised we were all still alive.

Five minutes had passed and a small thump let everyone now that we were on the ground. Everyone paused and looked at each other for a second before quickly undoing their seat belts. People from the second floor of the ship began to climb down the ladder and pile into your space.

"Well what are you waiting for? Open up that door" came a voice from the back.

You undid your seat belt and pushed your way to the front of the growing crowd. A young girl with straight black hair placed her hand on the door handle and began to tug at it.

"Wait!" Clarke pushed her way through the crowd.  "The radiation out there could kill us"

"Well that's the whole reason we were sent down here, right?" Murphy said, coming up behind you.

"Octavia!" A shout from the back of the ship sent heads turning. The girl who was tugging at the door had stopped and whipped her head round.

"Bellamy?" She called out.

Your heart froze as you looked at the boy now pushing through the crowd. You couldn't keep your eyes off of him as he made his way to who you assumed was his sister. They hugged as soon as they were close to each other.

"Isn't that the girl from under the floor?"

"It's floor girl"

Whispers were spreading amongst the delinquents which made Octavia snap her eyes in the crowds direction. She let go of Bellamy and ran forward but Clarke held her back.

"Ignore them" she said.

Octavia turned back to the door and Bellamy looked around, his eyes finally landing on you. He was the whole reason you were in this mess. You felt anger build up inside of you as he continued to stare at you. He had a guilty look on his face which immediately disappeared as the door creaked open. Light poured into the dimly lit ship and everyone took in a breath of air. You all waited anxiously to see what would happen. Nothing. Octavia walked out of the ship and stopped just before the dirt. She looked back at the group and you saw Bellamy give her a small nod and smile. She smiled back and jumped onto the ground, the dirt squishing under her weight.

"We're back bitches!" She shouted, throwing her hands in the air. 

The group of delinquents around you cheered as they ran outside too, taking in the beautiful scenery around them. You stood still as you watched everyone spill out of the ship.  You still couldn't believe you were here. How the hell would you survive down here. You were all criminals with no experience on how to take care of yourselves. Except for Bellamy, you thought. What had he done to get down here? He was definitely over 18. And why the hell did he shoot Jaha? 

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Thank you for reading! Please leave me some feedback and/or suggestions!

[literal-fand0m-trash]

Georgia on my Mind Part 8: Shot Through the Heart

Note: I do not own any of The Walking Dead characters, but I do own Georgia May Grimes. Please leave comments and enjoy.

Summary: AU. Georgia is Rick’s oldest daughter from a previous relationship. This is the story of how she survives the zombie apocalypse, fight walkers, bonds with her new family, and finds love. (Is that too cheesy?)

Part 1   Part 2   Part 3   Part 4   Part 5   Part 6   Part 7

We walked for a few more minutes before a gunshot sounded in the distance. I looked back at everyone who all looked equally as confused.

“Let’s wait here for a minute. Rick, Shane, and Carl should be right behind us anyways.” Lori suggested, but after five minutes of waiting everyone started getting restless.

“We should keep moving back to the highway. I’m sure there’s no reason to worry.” Andrea said and I resisted the urge to roll my eyes.

“We all heard it.” Daryl said.

“Why one? Why just one gunshot?” Lori wondered.

“Maybe it was a lone walker.” I suggested.

“Don’t patronize me, Georgia!” Lori snapped. I looked at Glenn who was sitting across from me and tried to portray my annoyance at my stepmom in a single glance. “Rick wouldn’t risk a gunshot to take down one walker, neither would Shane. They’d do it quietly.”

“Shouldn’t they have caught up with us by now?” Carol asked in a quiet voice.

“There’s nothing we can do ‘bout it anyway. Can’t run around these woods chasin’ echoes.” Daryl said.

“So what do we do?” Lori asked.

“We head back up to the highway and reconvene with Dale, T-Dog, Dad, Shane, and Carl then discuss our next move.” I said.

“We beat the bush for Sophia. Head back up to the highway.” Daryl said.

“Georgia’s right, they’ll hook up with us back at the RV.” Andrea said and I glared at her as she used my real name.

WE started walking again and I fell in step with Glenn while Daryl led us through the woods. Andrea and Carol were behind us and Andrea was assuring the hurting mother that we were all hoping and praying for Sophia along with her.

“...For what it’s worth.” Andrea finished.

Daryl whipped around and walked towards them, “I’ll tell you what it’s worth, not a damn thing. It’s a waste of time all this hoping and praying. ‘Cause we’re gonna locate that little girl, she’s gonna be just fine. Am I the only one zen around here? Good Lord.” I smiled at Daryl referring to himself as zen and also at how much he care for Sophia. He was still trying to act all tough and macho, but it was obvious that he had a soft side and that he care for our rag tag team of survivors.

“You’re smiling.” Glenn pointed out in a singsong voice.

“Shut up.” I muttered.

“Hey, can I ask you something?”

“Technically you just did.” I teased.

“You suck! But seriously?” he asked and I nodded, “What is the deal with you calling Lori by her first name and her calling you Georgia instead of JoJo?”

I sighed before launching into my tragic backstory, “Well, if you haven’t figured out by now, Lori is not my real mom. My biological mom and my dad were dating in college and wound up pregnant with me. She never wanted kids so she told Dad she wanted to get rid of me, but he begged her to keep me. She finally agreed and when I was born I was immediately given to my Dad, she never held me, she’s not listed on my birth certificate, Dad doesn’t even have a photo of her. Now, because my dad was young and stupid, and I was born in Georgia in May he named me Georgia May, but since that’s a mouth full he called me JoJo. He met Lori when I was five and I knew she wasn’t my mom so I always called her Lori. Why she insists on calling me Georgia, we’ll never know, but that’s the way it’s been for the last thirteen years.” I explained. “Your turn!”

“What?” He asked, surprised.

“I let you know about my past, know I want to know about Glenn Rhee, Korean, pizza delivery boy, extraordinaire.” I teased.

“Um...hey Daryl! How much further?” Glenn called out.

“You are the worst.” I said.

“You love me, Georgia!” He said throwing his arms open.

“If you ever call me that I will put an arrow through you!” I threatened teasingly and Glenn pretended to look hurt.

“Y’all be quiet. There still walkers ‘round.” Daryl scowled and he glared at Glenn and me. I crossed my arms over my chest and huffed, I was beyond tired of his hot and cold act and his treating me like a child. I decided that I was going to try and do the unthinkable and talk to him tonight. “It’s about a hundred yards, as the crow flies.” Daryl answered.

“Too bad we aren’t crows.” Andrea muttered before wandering off only to scream loudly a few moments later.

I notched an arrow and drew my bow as fast as I could before running in the direction of the noise along with everyone else. Andrea was on the ground screaming with a walker closing in on her. Right as I was about to a fire my arrow I heard hooves and a woman on horse back wielding a baseball bat came and hit the walker.

“Lori and JoJo Grimes?” The woman asked as she turned to face us in the saddle. Lori and I stepped forward. I looked up at the girl who had bright green eyes, short brown hair, and was wearing cowboy boots.

“Rick sent me. One of you needs to come with me now!” The young woman demanded.

“Wait, what?” I asked.

“There’s been an accident. Carl’s been shot. He’s still alive, but one of you needed to come with me now.” The woman said. I felt myself go numb and my ears started ringing, this couldn’t be happening again. I watched Lori slip her backpack off and approach the horse.

“Woah, woah, woah, we don’t know this girl. You can’t get on that horse!” Daryl shouted and I walked forward as well and he grabbed my arm to stop me from getting closer.

“Rick said you had others on the highway, that big traffic snarl?” The woman asked as Lori mounted the horse behind her and several people nodded, “Backtrack to Fairburn Road, about two miles down is our farm. You’ll see a mailbox with the name Greene on it!” She said as she kick the horse's side and it started to gallop.

“My little brother’s been shot...my brother’s been shot.” I muttered and Daryl squeezed my arm where he was still holding it.

“We need to get back to the highway, now!” Daryl said and he started walking us forward.

……….

“Shot? What do you mean shot?” Dale asked once everyone told him what happened. I was leaning on the guardrail in silence, biting my nails and worrying about my family.

“I don’t know, Dale. I wasn’t there. All I know is this chick rode out of nowhere on a horse like Zorro on a horse and took Lori.” Glenn explained frantically.

“You let her?” Dale asked looking at Daryl who was supposed to be in charge.

“Climb down out of my asshole, man. Rick sent her. She knew Lori and JoJo’s names and Carl’s.” Daryl defended.

“I heard screams.” Dale said.

“Andrea got attacked by a walker. It was a close call.” I commented quietly. Glenn looked over and came and sat next to me. Andrea stormed over to the RV and slammed the door behind her as she climbed in.

“We need to find that farm.” I said firmly looking up at everyone.

“We can’t Sophia is still out there.” Carol said.

“Carol, the group is split. We’re scattered, we’re weak.” Dale said.

“What if she comes back and we’re not here.” Carol said.

“Look, I hate to suggested that we split up any further, but my family is on that farm and my little brother has been shot, so I am going. I can drive, I’ll take a car and go and the rest of you can stay and look for Sophia.” I said standing up.

“No!” Everyone said, shooting me down.

“If Sophia found her way back and we were gone, that would be awful.” Andrea argued.

“Okay. We gotta plan for this. I say tomorrow morning I say tomorrow morning is soon enough to pull up stakes. Give us a chance to rig a big sign, leave her some supplies. I’ll hold her tonight, stay with the RV.” Daryl strategized.

“If the RV is staying, I am too.” Dale said.

“Thank you. Thank you both.” Carol said tearily.

Andrea shrugged, “I’m in.”

“Well, if you’re all staying then I’m…” Glenn started.

“Not you Glenn, you’re going. Take Carol’s Cherokee and get JoJo back the farm.” Dale ordered.

“I don’t need a babysitter!” I scoffed.

“Me? Why is it always me?” Glenn asked exasperated.

“We need to find this farm and reconnect our people and see what’s going on. But most important, you have to get JoJo and T-Dog there. This is not an option. That cut has gone from bad to worse. He has a very serious blood infection. Get him to that farm and see if they have an antibiotics because if not, T-Dog will die. No joke.” Dale said gravely. I watched as Daryl perked up and walked over to his motorcycle. He pulled off some rags that were hanging on it then reached into the side bag and pulled out  ziplock bag full of pill bottles and crystal on the bottom. Daryl walked back over and handed me the bag of pills before throwing the rags at Dae.

“Keep your oily rags off my brother’s motorcycle.” Daryl said then grabbed my hands and raised them so he could open the bag and dig through it with both hands, “Why did you wait till now to say anything? Got my brothers stash. Crystal, X. Don’t need that. Got some kickass painkillers. Oxycycline. Not the generic stuff neither, it’s first class.” he said throwing a few bottle to Glenn and Dale.

“Those are pretty hardcore antibiotics.” I commented. I knew that people used them to get high, but this seemed organized to be entirely an addiction.

Daryl shrugged, “Merel got the clap on occasion.” I felt my face screw up in disgust at the thought.

……….

We packed up T-Dog, Glenn, and my families things into the Cherokee and drove off. By the time we reached the farm it was dark and I barely waited for the car to stop before jumping out and sprinting up to the porch.

I threw the front door open, “Carl? Dad?” I called out. An old man with thin white hair and kind eyes approached me.

“Well you must be Rick’s daughter. He said you would be the one rushing in here. I’m Hershal. You’re family is just through here.” He said calmly in a gentle southern accent and he grabbed my hand and led me into his beautiful farm house. He opened one of the first doors we came to and my body seemed to freeze when I saw Carl laying on the bed, pale and cover with sweat, and a bandage soaked in blood on his side. Lori was laying on the bed next to next stroking his hair and Dad was sitting in a chair next to him with an IV in his arm. Giving blood for Carl, I realised, and he must have given a lot considering how pale he was.

I turned to Hershel, “Thank you. My dad isn’t looking to good. I have the same blood type as he and Carl, A Positive. Let me know if I can help.”

“I will darling. Thank you. Right now, your family needs you.” He said and he closed the door as he left.

I sat down on the opposite side of the bed from Lori and grabbed Carl’s hand and cried. I felt Dad lean forward and put a hand on my shoulder.

“It’s okay, Peaches. He’s gonna be just fine. Just like I was.” He assured me. After a minute he asked, “Is everyone here?”

“No. It’s just me, T-Dog, and Glenn. T-Dog has blood poisoning and I was a mess so Dale insisted that Glenn drive us. The others are staying on the highway tonight so they can make some sort of sign for Sophia to find us if she makes it back to the highway.” I explained and Dad nodded before sitting back down.

There was a knock at the door and Glenn poked his head in followed by the woman on horseback from earlier.

“Hi. I’m Maggie. I’m Hershel's daughter. Your boys just got here with some pain medicine for Carl, Hershel will give it to him when later. I brought you a sandwich.” She said handing me a plate. She had the same kind demeanor as her father, but was obviously badass enough to kill a walker with a baseball bat on horseback and I immediately liked her.

“Thank you, Maggie. I’m Georgia, but everyone calls me JoJo. Sorry we had to meet under such weird circumstances.” I said and I held out my hand to shake hers.

“Nice to meet you. Y’all let me know if you need anything.” She said before she waved goodbye and left the room.

A while later Hershel came in to take Carl’s blood pressure and he was followed by Maggie, Glenn, and T-Dog. Glen took his hat off the minute we enter the room.

“Hey. We wanted to let you know we’re here.” Glenn said.

“Whatever you need.” T-Dog agreed and I smiled through my tears. Maggie led them out of the room as Hershel pulled back the blanket covering Carl. I let out an awful sob as I saw that his stomach was swollen and based on the color, I would say it was filled with blood. I looked at dad and lori who were both crying and hanging their heads.

“They don’t get back soon, we’re gonna have a decision to make.” Hershel said.

“Who gets back?” I asked.

“Shane and their man Otis went about five miles down the road hours ago to get some surgical equipment.” Dad explained.

“What’s the decision?” I asked.

“Whether to operate on your brother with or without the respirator.” Hershel said. I had obviously missed most of their medical discussion so I decided to let the adult handle it and just be their for my brother.

“You said that wouldn’t work.” Lori pointed out.

“I know. It’s extremely unlikely, but we can’t wait much longer.” Hershel said. Lori stood up and walked out of the room and Dad tried to stand up and follow her, but stumbled. I rushed to his side and helped him stand and he walked out of the room leaving Hershel, Carl, and me behind.

“Thank you for taking care of my brother.” I muttered.

“You’re quite welcome.” Hershel said putting his stethoscope on and listened to Carl’s heart and I could hear the muffled fighting of Dad and Lori outside of the window.

I stood up and looked down at Carl, “I need a minute. I’ll be right back.” I briskly walked out of the room and leaned against the hallway wall, I put my face in my hands and sunk down to the floor, taking a few deep breaths and tried to calm down. Dad and lori walked in a while later and sat down on the floor next to me. We sat there in silence, waiting for Shane and Otis to come home when Carl started coughing in the other room. We all jumped up and rushed into the room.

Hershel held Carl down as he thrashed and panted until the three of us came into the field of view.

“Where are we?” Carl asked as he looked around. I grabbed his hand and squeezed it as Lori stroked his hair.

“Hey, Little Man. That’s Hershel, we’re in his house. You had an accident.” Dad explained nodding to Hershel who was smiling down at Carl.

“It hurts a lot.” Carl whimpered.

“Oh baby, I know.” Lori said.

“Don’t worry. Chicks dig scars. Plus, you and Dad match now.” I joked and Carl smiled.

“Mom. JoJo. You should have seen it.” Carl whispered.

“Seen what?” Lori asked.

“The deer. It was so pretty, Mom. It was so close. I’ve never been…” Carl said before he froze, eyes wide open. My eyes widened and jaw dropped as I feared the worse. Carl’s back arched before he started shaking on the bed and we all reached for him on instinct.

“Don’t. It’s a seizure. If you hold him down you could hurt him.” Hershel said as he rolled Carl onto his side.

“You can’t stop it?” Lori asked.

“He just has to go through it.” Hershel explained. Dad wrapped his arms around me and Lori and I buried my face in his chest and sobbed. When the sound of Carl thrashing died down I dared to peek at him and saw that he was lying still on the bed. Hershel started looking his over.

“His brain isn’t getting enough blood. His pressure is bottoming. He needs another transfusion.” Hershel explained.

“I’m ready.” Dad said.

“If I take any more out of you, your body could shut down. You could go into a coma.” Hershel cautioned.

“I’ll do it.” I volunteered.

“I don’t like that idea.” Dad said.

“Daddy, we don’t have a choice and I want to do this.” I said. I took off my flannel shirt off so that Hershel could get to the vein in my arm. I sat down in a chair and Hershel came over with a strange machine and pushed the needle into my arm. I felt my face scrunch as the needle entered, but the pain quickly faded.

Maggie and Glenn came in with blankets and pillows later in the night. I had no idea how much blood had been taken out of me by then, but I was light headed and soaked with sweat so I was willing to beat a fair amount.

“You look like Hell.” Glenn joked.

“At least I have a reason for looking this awful, you’re just stuck looking ugly.” I teased.

“Very funny.” he said throwing a pillow at me. Maggie giggled as she put blankets on Carl’s bed and walked out of the room. I noticed Glenn’s eyes following her out.

“Glenn and Maggie sittin’ in a tree.” I sang once she was out of earshot.

“What? No!” Glenn defended and I raised an eyebrow at him, “Fine. At least I can talk to my crush. How are things going with Mr. Dixon?”

“Shut up.” I hissed as Dad and Lori walked back into the room. Glenn gave me one more smirk before he walked out.

“Hey Peaches. How you feelin’?” Dad asked running a hand through my hair before sitting down on the bed, Lori rounded to the other side and laid down next to Carl.

“Like I’ve had several units of blood pumped out of me with a primitive medical tool.” I answered.

“Very funny.” Dad smiled.

“Hey Dad. What did Carl mean about a deer?” I asked.

Dad shifted for a moment and looked at his folded hands in his lap, “Before it happened we were standing there in the woods and this deer just crossed right in front of us. I swear it just planted itself there and looked Carl right in the eye. And I looked at Carl, looking at that deer looking right back at Carl. And that moment just...slipped away. That’s what he was talking about when he woke up.”

……….

I must have drifted off to sleep because next thing I knew Dad was shaking me awake while Hershel looked over Carl.

“He’s still losing blood faster than we can replace it. And with the swelling in his abdomen we can’t wait any longer or he’s just going to slip away. Now, I need to know right now if you want me to do this, because I think your boy is out of time. You have to make a choice.” Hershel said.

“A choice?” Lori asked.

“A choice. You have to tell me what it is.

“Without the surgery, Carl will die for sure. With the surgery, there’s still a chance, but far less. We need to do this.” I said although I was sure no one was listening to me. And in a shocking turn of events, I was correct, Lori and Dad stayed staring into each other’s eyes like this was a rom com and not a matter of life and death.

“We do it.” Lori finally said tearfully to Hershel.

“Alright. Patricia, Maggie, come help me. You two decide if you want your daughter here. We could use the help, but it’s your choice.” Hershel said walking out of the room.

“JoJo, go wait with T-Dog and Glenn. I don’t want you seeing this.” Dad said.

“But Dad…” I argued.

“Please, Georgia, now!” He commanded. I stood up and walked out of the room, I walked through the house the way we had come in and went to go stand on the wrap around porch for a while.

Even in the dark, I could tell that this farm was beautiful. I had always pictured myself living in a place like this, owning a stable, writing during the day, having a future in the Georgia countryside. I closed my eyes and leaned against one of the poles and imagined what my future could have been like, the rumbling of a truck interrupted my musing. It pulled up to the front of the house quickly and Shane jumped out holding a hospital bag that I could see had equipment poking out of it. Carl was going to be okay! Lori, Dad, Hershel, T-Dog, Glenn, and Maggie came running out of the house to greet the car.

“Otis?” Hershel asked grabbing the bag from Shane

“No.” Shane whispered hanging his head.

Hershel was silent for a moment, “We say nothing to Patricia. Not till after. I need her.” And with that he turned back to the house to go operate on Carl.

“They kept block us at every turn. We only had ten rounds and he said...he said he’d cover me and that I...that I should keep going. So that’s what I did, I just...I kept going, but I looked back and he…I tried.” Shane stammered out. Maggie looked on the verge of tears and I gently placed a hand on her shoulder and gave it a squeeze.

……….

An hour later Hershel came out the where Dad, Lori, and I were sitting on the porch and smiled.

“He seems to have stabilized.” He said. I let a huge sigh of relief and smiled while Dad hugged Hershel.

“Thank you so much!” I said.

“I don’t have words.” Lori said with a huge smile and tears running down her cheeks.

“I don’t either I wish I did.” Hershel said. “How do I tell Patricia about Otis?”

Dad turned to look at Lori and me, “You two go to Carl and I’ll go with Hershel.”

Carl was sleeping when we walked in and I sat down on the side of the bed and held his hand. A minute later there were footsteps and I turned, expecting to see my dad, but instead saw Shane standing in the doorway. He and Lori stared and each other and I made the executive decision that I did not want to be in that room. I stood up and quietly walked out and went to the kitchen where Maggie, Glenn, and T-Dog were sitting.