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smolgloves · 2 years ago

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Survival

AN: My first attempt at a zombie gt story because I have wanted to do one for a while now.

Tw: Gore, murder, death, description of a corpse, blood, dehumanizing language, vore mention, it's a zombie story, what do you expect? 🤷‍♀️

How long has it been since the world went to shit? Aaron had lost count a long time ago, but it's hard to keep track of time when zombies roam the earth now. It felt like everyday was full of uncertainty, would today be the day a zombie rips his throat out, or would bullets from angry scavengers finally take him out? He should consider himself lucky, because he's a part of a group that promises to watch his back whenever they go on supply runs, but the company Aaron has is less than stellar.

Jerry was a middle aged balding man who is supposed to keep a lookout for any trouble but Aaron can't count how many times a horde of zombies had wandered through their position when Jerry was in charge. How Jerry managed to not get eaten by zombies yet is beyond Aaron. Honestly, Jerry shouldn't even leave the headquarters because he is a major pussy, which is rather surprising because this guy used to work as a security guard for a grocery store!

Then there's Stephen, this dude is just an asshole, when Aaron first met him, he just thought that Stephen was just a kid, but he's actually two years older than Aaron! Pretty pathetic that a twenty-seven year old would behave like a teenager. He thinks now is always a good time to joke around, as if the three of them weren't constantly looking over their shoulders. Nothing has come close to giving Aaron a heart attack more than when Stephen decides it's a good time to smash a window very loudly. Shit like this has almost made Aaron want to murder the guy, but unfortunately, Stephen is the nephew of their group leader. If he returned to the headquarters without him, there would be consequences. So as much as Aaron hates these two bozos, he has to put up with them and hope they don't get him killed one day.

The sun began to set and all three of them were tired of walking. They had spent hours raiding the abandoned dollar store for supplies and all they found were some General Bargains brand barbecue flavored chips, some Colas, and a pack of Barbie band-aids. Honestly, it was a waste of time and Aaron didn't understand why they had to scavenge every General Bargains in the state of Texas. There's too fucking many to keep up with and half of the stores were ransacked when this whole shitshow started! Now they're in the middle of nowhere with little to nothing to bring back.

"We should look for some place to camp out for the night." Jerry said, breaking the silence.

First great idea this guy has said all day!

"I think there's an old barn up ahead." Stephen pointed out.

"Then let's head that way." The three men walked up to an old decrepit barn that had been worn down by the weather. The red paint had been chipped away and weeds had begun their invasion to engulf the building.

But what definitely caught Aaron's attention was the rusty tractor trailer that sat on the side of the barn. Underneath one of the wheels was a man or at least what was left of a man. Upon hearing the three men approach, the rotting corpse raised his head and began growling at them. He clawed at the dirt desperately trying to get his meal but the enormous wheel kept the creature pinned to the ground. His arms were boney with tattered sleeves barely clinging to his body, dried blood had stained the man's white shirt, making Aaron wondered if this zombie was alive when he was trapped underneath the tractor wheel and left to die. One of the more haunting things to see was the zombie's face, his hair was thin and white, just barely clinging on to his scalp, his lips had withered away and now exposed his brittle teeth that chomped at the air upon seeing any living creature that passed by. But one of the haunting things were the eyes, all zombies had pale blue eyes that vacantly stared off in the distance, the only time Aaron has ever seen them light up was when they wanted to kill. The first time he ever looked into a zombie's eyes was the realization that the people who used to live inside those bodies were gone, only to be replaced with a primal beast who craved flesh and blood.

"Hey Aaron, watch this." Stephen strolled up to the zombie and started waving his hand just inches above his head. The corpse sprawled his arms out trying to grab onto his arm, but missed every time. Stephen just laughed. "Can't get me."

Aaron just shot Stephen a glare. He almost wished the zombie would just grab Stephen and yank him to the ground just so he could bite into his neck. The blood would spill out of him and stain his long brown hair and then his blue eyes would be filled with fear as his final moments would be realizing why he shouldn't have been fucking around.

"Stephen, quit playing with the zombie and go scout out the barn with Aaron!" Jerry Barked as he uncliped his walkie from his belt. "I'm gonna see if I can get a signal back to headquarters."

Stephen grumbled some complaints but followed Jerry's instructions and walked over to the barn. Aaron knocked on the door to alert any zombies that could be trapped inside, but the only growling came from the one outside. A good sign but that doesn't mean anything, there could be squatters inside ready to jump them the moment they open the door, not wanting to take a chance, Aaron pulled out his hunting knife from his belt. He looked over at Stephen who did not seem to take the same precautions, he just kept this bored look on his face. Aaron sighed and just hoped that if anyone was going to jump them, they'd take out Stephen first.

After some deep breaths, Aaron swung open the door and raised his knife in case something popped out, but fortunately, nothing popped out.

"You worry too much." Stephen chuckled.

"Someone's got too." He grumbled.

The two walked into the dimly lit barn in search of any supplies. However, there wasn't much around. Whatever supplies were in the barn were already taken out long ago, the only thing of value was an ax that rested by the door.

Aaron picked up the chopping tool, it was covered in dust and cobwebs and the blade was dull, but it was still salvageable.

"Hey, Aaron, over here."

Aaron turned to see his black haired partner crouching down and staring at something on the ground with a flashlight. He raised an eyebrow thinking that Stephen must have been fucking with him because there was nothing else in this barn, but he still walked over to the guy and saw a burrow in the ground that was the perfect size for a mouse.

"Okay…" Aaron couldn't hide the annoyance in his voice. "What about it?"

"I think it's a Neera burrow." He whispered.

"That's ridiculous." Aaron stifled a laugh. Neeras were small humanoid creatures that were made by the government to conduct experiments on because it was more ethical than using rabbits and mice. Except when the public found out that Neeras were pretty much just tiny versions of humans, activist groups rose up to end experiments on them. Science creates real life borrowers and this is what they do to them, no wonder this world went to shit…

"Neeras don't exist in the wild, dude." Aaron reminded Stephen. "It's probably just a mouse burrow."

"Nu-uh look at the hole, dude." Stephen shined his flashlight closer to the hole to reveal straight lines around the edge of the entrance."Those carvings right there, those were made by a tool."

"Sure man, great joke." Aaron rolled his eyes. "Didn't know I was in the presence of a Neera expert."

"It's not a joke, asshole." He growled. "Neeras are out here, Dr. Lewis says so."

"Dr. Lewis arrived with a massive head injury and said that he was related to Natalie Woods, dude is bonkers!"

"Okay, but he had proof that he worked for Micro-Lab!" Stephen snapped.

Aaron raised a brow. "What kind of proof?"

"Like a name badge from Micro-Lab," He replied Smugly. "And he even had a classified document about Neeras."

"What did the document say?"

"I have no clue, Uncle Tommy wouldn't tell me." Stephen admitted.

Before Aaron could argue anymore, Jerry marched through the door, his eyes shifted between the two men. "Anything useful?"

"Not really." Stephen said. "Aaron found an ax though."

Aaron held up the blade. "But it's rusty."

"I'm sure headquarters will fix it up and make good use out of it." Jerry cleared his throat. "Anyways, Sherry and Monnie are on their way with a crew to pick us up, but they won't be able to get here until morning. So we're gonna camp out here for the night."

~~~~~~~~

It wasn't long before Sherry and Monnie would come to pick them up, and Aaron couldn't be more glad. The hours had gone by painfully slow, nothing was more annoying than Stephen's snoring; which made Aaron consider the possibility of swinging the ax deep into his face. Surely no one would fault him for it? The dude's snores were loud enough to alert all the zombies where they were! He was lucky Jerry fell asleep first, otherwise, he would get pissed at him for falling asleep with a bag of the barbecue chips in his hands; not that stale chips would really be an issue, General Bargains always had stale chips even before the bags were sealed.

The sound of dirt shifting broke Aaron of his thoughts. He scanned the area for the source until his brown eyes settled on a small figure skitter across the ground. It ran on two long legs like an Olympic runner towards the bag of chips but it stopped at the opening and then crouched down to grab the crumbs then dispose of them in some sort of pouch. There was no doubt about it, the creature was a Neera!

Stephen shifted towards his side, causing the little Neera to gasp and stumble back into the chip bag; a crunch from the chips and bag left a deafening echo in the barn. In a flash, Stephen was up and snatched the bag up from the ground, the Neera yelped as they got jostled, alerting the man of their presence.

"What the fuck!" Stephen snapped as he peered down the bag.

"What is going on, Steph?!" Jerry growled as he stirred from his slumber.

"A fucking Neera, that's what!"

The fastest Jerry has ever moved was at this moment, he scrambled over to Stephen and shined a flashlight down the bag to gawk at the tiny person. Stephen dug his hand down the bag and then plucked the Neera from their hiding spot. Aaron could now see that the small creature was a young female, with long white hair that was spilling out of a navy green beanie. Her crimson eyes were filled with fear as she glanced at each and every one of them, she immediately began struggling in Stephen's hand.

"Let me go!" She snarled.

"No way, rat!" Stephen barked as he ripped the pouch that was now revealed to be a makeshift backpack and handed it to Jerry, who quickly dumped the contents out to reveal the crumbs she had previously taken.

"She took our chips." Jerry replied stiffly.

"You little pest, that is our supplies!" Stephen growled.

"Yeah, well maybe you shouldn't have fallen asleep with it open!" The tiny woman snapped back.

Aaron let out a chuckle, this Neera had bigger balls than the two men who were looming over her.

Stephen glared up at Aaron's amusement but then turned his attention back to the woman. "Do you know what your little stunt could have done to my survival?"

"I'm trying to survive too!" A sense of panic slipped out of the Neera's shouts.

"Come on, let her be," Aaron stood up. "It's not like she stole a lot at her size."

"You know the rules," Jerry replied back. "No one steals from GB's supplies."

"It was literally crumbs!" Aaron snapped. "Are we really gonna execute a Neera for stealing crumbs?"

"Execute?!" The Neera started flailing in the air, causing Stephen to adjust his grip in a fist. She let out a gasp as his grip grew tighter.

"Yes, we are, and I know just the way to do it." Stephen stood up and marched out of the barn with Jerry following behind.

Aaron could feel blood boiling, he was so sick of General Bargin's stupid rules. Does the leader not understand that other people are trying to survive? His community can do fine without a bag of chips but here is his entitled nephew ready to kill someone for fucking crumbs! It wasn't right and Aaron was tired of turning his head to pretend he was okay with this bullshit.

He gripped the handle of the ax tighter and stormed out of the barn. Dawn had given the sky an eerie red color that gave a sense of dread inside Aaron. There wasn't much time until Sherry and Monnie arrived, so he had to act fast.

The snarls of the zombie caught his attention, Aaron saw the two assholes crouched down by the corpse just out of arm's reach, however he saw Stephen dangling the Neera by her leg just above the zombie like she was a piece of bait for it to munch on.

"You can have your fucking chips back!" The little woman shrieked out as she flailed around. "Just put me down!"

"Aww but this guy needs to survive too..." Stephen chuckled as he lowered the Neera closer to the chomping zombie. "Just let him have a nibble."

Aaron felt his stomach twist into a knot, it was sickening watching Stephen joke around with the poor girl's life. He didn't even have the decency to snuff her life out quickly, he wanted to watch her suffer and he had to find a sick sense of joy outta this.

This bastard needs to die…

It almost felt like someone else was controlling Aaron's body as he hoisted the ax up, at any moment he could have stopped himself and looked away like he always did; but he didn't want to. Aaron swung his ax right into the side of Stephen's neck. There was a stunned silence in the air, the only noises coming from the hungry zombie.

Without another though, Aaron ripped the ax out of Stephen's neck; blood gushed out of the gaping wound. He choked out a gurgle before lurching forward and collided with the bloodthirsty creature.

The zombie sunk his teeth into Stephen's neck, intensifying the wound, no longer was he interested in the tiny Neera when bigger prey made itself more accessible. Stephen couldn't even let out a scream as he choked on his own blood.

As for the Neera, she was released from her captor's grip. She slammed into the zombie's shoulder before slipping down and hitting his boney forearm, she tried to grip onto the raggedy shirt but the zombie's erratic movements caused her to plummet to the ground and land in Stephen's puddle of blood. A groan escaped her lips, Aaron hoped that was a good sign for her sake but he didn't have time to check as his attention turned to Jerry.

Fear paralyzed the older man, everything happened so fast that he didn't have enough time to react before Aaron swiftly kicked Jerry forward, causing him to stumble into the zombie. The undead man stopped digging into Stephen and turned his attention to what bumped into him. His decayed fingers clamped down on Jerry's shoulders and he dragged himself over to the human. Jerry struggled to break free but a zombie's grip was almost inhumanly strong, rotten teeth sunk into Jerry's plump cheek and he let out a blood-curdling scream. He flailed around as much as the Neera did when she was captured except he looked more terrified than she did.

"WHY AARON?!" Jerry cried out.

But Aaron didn't breathe a word, he just stared at the torn up men before him. One was crying like a baby, the other was twitching in his final moments. These were guys who he risked his life in the past. They gave him a safe haven when the world went to shit, and now Aaron just threw his safety away. Once the boss hears about how his nephew was murdered by Aaron, he will surely be executed, but he didn't care anymore.

Groans in the distance snapped Aaron out of his daze, he could see shambling corpses coming out of the woods nearby. Of course Jerry's screams were loud enough to alert every zombie nearby, motherfucker couldn't just die with dignity. At the same time, gunshots could be heard nearby, followed by a car swerving along the dirt road. Shit, it was Sherry and Monnie! If they see this mess, Aaron would be captured and brought back to the boss and Aaron didn't feel like dying yet.

He scanned the ground for the little lady who got him into this mess. He quickly spotted her slipping around in the blood; thank god, she was alive! Without hesitation, he plucked her up between his fingers. The Neera yelped and squirmed to break free but Aaron curled his fingers around her in a loose fist.

"We gotta go." Aaron spoke in a low tone. He didn't give her any time to answer before he ran towards the woods, zombies snarled and stumbled after the young man but he was too quick for them.

The tiny woman never stopped squirming in Aaron's hand. Every punch or kick sent a spark up his arm that reminded Aaron that this was not his mind playing tricks on him. There was an actual Neera in the palm of his hand and he just threw away his life to save her.

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clanwarrior-tumbly · 3 years ago

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YOU WRITE FOR THE WALTIN FILES??? YESS 😭😭💕 this request will be platonic bc it's a robot. May I please request a reader loving Billy as a kid and him being their (nonbinary btw) favorite growing up so they go back to the k-9 facility to work and finds him and puts their casset tape in and listens but when bon tries to attack Billy protects reader and in the end reader stays behind Billy to stay safe

I'm sorry for the long request!! Have a nice day and stay healthy!!

BRO I love Billy so much (and from a quiz I took he's one of my kins now hdhghd)

.........

After making sure you got everything you needed for the job, you took a deep breath and headed inside the K-9 facility.

You'd feel less nervous if it wasn't buried in the heart of some spooky forest. But you took comfort in knowing it was still daytime...or else you would've stayed home.

You were tasked with reprogramming the animatronics for Felix's "Relocate Project". The last three employees sent here didn't have much luck, so he assigned you specifically, knowing your proficiency in repairing machines.

It seemed pointless if three people couldn't even fix them. But your boss seemed desperate to revive the project by any means necessary. Plus you'll get paid extra if you were successful in reprogramming at least one animatronic. So you took the offer.

Inside the facility, you recorded yourself looking around for the animatronics, even reminiscing the time you visited Bon's Burgers when it was first opened.

But when you found the gang, they were in even worse shape than before. All four of them. You tested their joint movements, though it seemed as if...they were unwilling to perform for you.

Not to mention there was a certain rotting smell to them that made you wish you brought a gas mask.

Oh well, you'll live.

Besides, you were looking for a certain animatronic:

Billy. He was always your favorite, even though he didn't make too many debuts as a Showstopper. Most kids were afraid of him because he was a black-eyed clown who couldn't express many emotions, but you loved him and visited him as often as you could. He relied on tapes to speak and sing, though you doubted everything he said was just prerecorded nonsense.

He genuinely seemed like a best friend to you.

"Billy..Billy, hm..I wonder where he is?" You muttered to the camera as you continued your search. And with luck, you found a backroom that led to other rooms.

And in one of those rooms lied the clown who made your childhood memorable.

Although the smell coming from him was similarly pungent, you ignored it, just happy that he was still here. You found some old tapes on the desk, seeing one in faded marker that had your name written on it.

A special birthday message for you.

When you tried playing it with the tape recorder, you frowned slightly when all you heard was static. Even Billy himself seemed to have trouble singing, so you stopped the tape and removed it.

But as your foot kicked something on the floor, you looked down to see that it was another tape. Simply labelled Discard.

"What's wrong with this?" You hummed, picking it up and deciding to play it.

At first, Billy began singing his trademark birthday song. But then he suddenly began listening off names, with beeps in between. Some of them sounded eerily familiar..

"J-Jack..Susan..Charles..Rosemary..Sophie.."

He kept repeating the same names over and over, and it was starting to creep you out. So in haste you reached out to stop the recording-

Only for his bloody mechanical hand to grab your wrist. Your eyes widened in shock, and you winced from the pain of his grip. But curiously enough, he used his other hand to stop the tape himself.

Then you saw white pupils appear in his eye sockets, and he looked up at you, before pointing to something on the table.

You glanced over and saw another tape labelled Billy. It was probably the one that allowed him to talk freely, so you quickly swapped the tapes and shakily pressed the button.

"[Y/n]! M-My best buddy!" He giggled as he let you go, the corners of his lips stretching into a bigger smile.

"B-Billy..it's..it's good to see you again." You breathed, confused but overjoyed that he recognized you. "How's-?"

"Why did you come back?"

"....huh?"

"You shouldn't have played that tape." His smile was quick to falter as shook his head, sockets widening. "He's mad now.."

"What? Who's mad-?"

A warped robotic laugh sent chills down your spine, as you heard the door behind you slam shut. With terror seizing your nerves, you could only shakily shine your flashlight, which landed on a fuzzy white chest with a red bowtie-

Before you shined it upwards, revealing a grinning Bon.

Billy was just as horrified, but he remembered this exact scenario.

No...he couldn't let this happen again. Especially not to you!

He sprang up and pulled you behind him, shielding you from the twisted rabbit. "No more, Bon! Please...d-don't hurt them." He pleaded as black tears leaked from his eyes. "They're my only friend.."

Bon stood rigidly, looking surprised that his fellow Showstopper was protecting you.

Then again he wasn't particularly kind to him when someone else did the same thing you did--discovering something you shouldn't have.

You had to be punished, too. He couldn't afford that.

For a moment, he seemed ready to pounce when he heard a noise coming from the outside. He suddenly turned around and threw the door open, leaving at an unusually fast pace for a decrepit animatronic.

But he was gone, thank god.

You shakily sighed with relief, still perplexed by what you had just witnessed. "Th-Thanks, Billy. But..why would Bon wanna hurt me?"

"He likes keeping what happened here a secret." Billy explained as he shut the door, sniffling. "A-All these years..he's tried making us "beautiful", but he only causes us pain."

"That doesn't sound like him at all.." You muttered.

Even back then, you never really trusted Bon. He always gave you the creeps for some reason..especially with how stiff his movements were compared to the others. They seemed so forced, like some caged animal was trying to break out of him.

You wonder if he recognized you, too.

"Ever since the beginning he's been..off. I didn't like it. H-He scares us now.." Fresh black tears dripped down Billy's face as he turned back to you.

"Is..that why he wanted to hurt me? Because of that discarded tape?" You questioned, remembering that two of the names listed were Bon's Burgers employees.

'But I don't know any "Jack", "Rosemary", or "Sophie"..'

The clown could only tremble. "You need to leave before h-he hurts you again..please..go before he comes back!"

"And leave you here to suffocate in this garbage facility? I don't think so." You shook your head. "I'm gonna stay and try to get you guys outta here. I..I don't know how or when but..I can't leave you. Not again."

Billy blinked with surprise. He didn't expect you to stay, especially after that terrifying encounter with Bon. But he wasn't going to let you have the same fate as the technician imprisoned within him.

So he'll try to protect you. Even if the others won't.

#clanask #the walten files x reader #walten files x reader #twf x reader #twf billy x reader #billy the clown x reader

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priscilla9993 · 4 years ago

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Killian Jones and Alcoholism

This is mainly a summary of things relating Killian/Hook to alcohol/rum. It was done for a college paper and is very long, therefore it’s under the break. To warn you, it is going to be mainly Wish Hook based since I needed to narrow it down and it was easier to show how he handled alcohol as a recovering alcoholic. Enjoy!

The character in question for this case study is Killian Jones, well known by his more colorful moniker of Captain Hook, as portrayed from the ABC TV show Once Upon A Time. He lives in a region of a fantasy realm known as the Enchanted Forest. He used to be a Royal Navy Lieutenant with his older brother Liam, straight-laced on being good and not getting into trouble in any way, especially after getting somewhere in life and no longer subjected to being an indentured deckhand like when their father abandoned them as kids. During a daring quest to Neverland to find some medicine for the king, Peter Pan said they had been tricked to bring back a poisonous plant called Dreamshade, meant to be used as a weapon against unsuspecting enemies. Killian was wary, ready to denounce his service to the king, but his brother was willing to have faith in a noble king and country. With one swift motion of the plant’s prick hoping to prove otherwise, Liam began dying and realized his mistake. Recruiting the help of Pan and some magical water, Liam was cured but soon died in Killian’s arms on the voyage back to the king, the price of the magic being death if Liam ever left Neverland with the water running through his veins. His brother’s death made Killian vengeful at his king and country as his brother had been noble until the very end and everyone else was corrupt, playing noble, proving to him that the world was at fault. From that day on, he took over the ship and decided to be a pirate named Captain Jones, pursuing freedom, and throwing away all he’s ever known because being noble didn’t serve justice. This starts his life of thievery, promiscuity, and never-ending drinking. His coping solutions to deal with his emotional pain only gets worse when he loses his hand, first love of his life, Milah, and his honor after losing a duel against Rumplestiltskin, a coward turned into a powerful Dark One; which leads him on a path of revenge to kill the Rumplestiltskin, “the crocodile”, to avenge Milah and his pride. This leads him to makeshift a hook for a hand and him going by the nickname of Captain Hook, leaving the last piece of his past behind and never letting himself be vulnerable again.

Throughout the series, whenever he or someone in his vicinity is having a rough time, his solution is to pour out some alcohol and drink his feelings away, acting like an egotistical flirt rather than expressing himself and wallowing in misery. His choice of alcohol happens to be rum, a hard liquor. The acute symptoms he has in the show are the loss of judgment, a reddened face, confusion, potentially heightened sexual desire, and sometimes blackouts/unconsciousness. There are multiple times where he’s in a tavern, pouring doubloons into drinks for his crew, rum for himself, and flirting with women/barmaids to have a nightcap with. From here on, I will refer to him as Hook unless stated otherwise. On one occasion of his usual proclivities displaying or implying such symptoms, Hook tries to seduce a woman named Emma. She manages to use his habit of drinking to her advantage, making him jolly and willing to take her back to his ship for the said nightcap; her actual objective was being a distraction while his future self did recon for info on how to get back to their timeline in a Back to the Future sort of way. He continues heavily drinking on the way back with Emma without a care for his health. As soon as the plan goes awry with Hook seeing double, Emma not realizing Future Hook was still doing recon, he gets knocked out for good measure and partial jealousy. Future Hook justifies this, saying his past self was “asking to be knocked out, will wake up upset, and blame the rum.” The lines construe how frequent the drinking was for his future self to determine Hook’s ill-mannered disposition while drunk.

Eventually, in a parallel way that stems from drunk Hook, is a feeble and spent pirate coined as “Wish Hook”. I have and will be focusing on this iteration for the whole of the paper, but what was written before was his younger self’s background. Wish Hook is the same guy as Hook, but years older down the line, differing paths from Future Hook as he never found love again with someone like Emma and had let his grief and alcohol from more recent negative events consume him. Wish Hook had lived out most of his lifespan, having been a sober father, but cursed to be poisoned any time he drew near his daughter after a witch encounter. Haunted by his regrets and somber circumstances, he turned back to an alcoholic, spending his days eased by rum. His body and actions in this form show the physical and mental effects of chronic alcohol consumption. About ten years or less had passed between his younger self and he had become an experienced middle-aged man with a complicated history, yet he looked far older than his years and decrepit. Without a doubt, by looking at him, people could assume he was an old drunk, his liver and heart having gotten fatty and overworked from the alcohol catching up to him. His belly was rotund, his hair disheveled and gray with streaks of white, his stance crumbling to nearly falling over with each step, and clothes dirtied with filth and old rum stains. Wish Hook still had a flirty and dramatic personality to cheer himself up and mask his turmoil, rum making him courageous and numb, while his actions told another story. He didn’t have sexual desires or try to provoke anyone by that point, just wanted to drown himself in alcohol. His words typically came out slurred, his movements sluggish and unrefined, and he had low problem-solving skills when it came to formulating a plan based on anything other than motive.

In the Enchanted Forest, alcohol like rum is not hard to come by as long as money is involved. Killian Jones/Captain Hook as a pirate drinking rum all the time did not affect him negatively socially or career-wise. If anything, it boosted his status and reputation. For him to be mingling in bars asking for expensive hard liquor and fine women to spend time with was a pleasantry. Bar owners got money, the crew got free alcohol, the women got paid, and he got to immerse himself in pleasure rather than thinking about trivial or serious things. Hook was the life of the party as a pirate captain, seen as a person with good tastes and great to have a fun time with when it came to alcohol. However, when it came to settling down and being a father later on in his life, Wish Hook reserved himself back to his more vulnerable side, caring about how his alcoholism could affect his parenting or child’s perspective. There are moments like that where he’s introspective and wants to do better by others that look up to him or who he cares about. In the show, when he is parenting, there is never a time where he has a bottle or flask of rum stashed nearby or is drinking. Wish Hook deems alcohol as the problem when it affects his judgment or his perceptions on how he could hurt the way people he loves view him. Love in any form brings him back to his core of being the best person he can be.

Killian Jones’s problem originates in nurture rather than nature because his alcohol problems started after he needed a reliable coping mechanism to lean on to deal with grief and anger. Although both nature and nurture influence him, for argument’s sake, nurture has the upper hand. Growing up, his father was a person he looked up to and wanted to be like, but that changed when he found out his father was a criminal who sold him and Liam to pay a route for a selfish escape. What little of his parents shown on-screen left betrayal or sadness in him, not the desire to drink. His parents weren’t clear on alcoholics or drug users as far as it goes. The only things he inherited from nature were probably his mischievous personality, temper, looks, and a high tolerance for alcohol. Living on a ship and being a poor deckhand, Killian didn’t seem to be the kind of guy to squander his savings on alcohol or other frivolous means. However, he would be on a ship constantly surrounded by adults who drank with a captain who cared more about money rather than morals, feeling squandered by his oppressed freedom and building resentment for authority. Without his brother steering him on track, Killian was no more than a young man with impulsive rebellious nature. When Liam went to get them navy papers to earn them their freedom from Captain Silver, it took Killian an offer of temptations from Silver, as much alcohol as he could drink and a bet on his money, for him to fall hook, line, and sinker; no pun intended. Alcohol and gambling meant a reprieve from thoughts, a chance at earning more than what he had before, and the same social standing as the other men aboard the ship. Perhaps, as much as he wanted to be strong as his brother, one good force cannot shield against all of the negative parts of society and adulthood. From Captain Silver, Killian got his first taste of alcohol and his desires did the rest, leaving him blackout drunk and penniless for Liam to find. As he grew older and slowly became Captain Hook, there was nothing about pirate life, being an adult, or people to keep him from drinking. He needed people to talk to, who supported him and he could feel vulnerable in front of, but the few people he trusted in his life were dead. As anyone knows, pirates steal treasure, so they’re not exactly the forgiving or down-to-earth types. Instead, rum became the solution to drown or fuel his emotions, being the substance of celebration and de-stressor.

Hook’s rum/alcohol addiction would fall more on the dependence spectrum rather than abuse. What had started as a small reprieve to the woes of life became a daily saving grace when he was wracked with loneliness or anger. He depended on the rum to mask his disposition of physical pain from his missing limb as well as emotional pain having experienced love and loss. Abusing alcohol meant that it would put him into dangerous scenarios, have little to no commitment to change his habits to improve his health, and he’d put off important social aspects. If it was alcohol abuse, Hook wouldn’t try changing his habits when he sees it affects others or his relationship with those he loves. Sure, he spends most of his life binge drinking and making merry with the tides of life, but when given the chance and support to abstain from alcohol, he takes it in a heartbeat. For Wish Hook, the thought of being a father who abandons his child or messes up under hazy judgment didn’t add up to him. With the birth of his daughter, Alice, he made a vow to stay with her as long as he could and to be the person he thought she could be proud of. Nevertheless, when he had lost purpose in life by something he had no control over (via death, distance, or curse), his first reaction was to either turn back to alcohol or solve his problems. Sadly, after he had spent a couple of years looking for a cure for his poison heart curse, he gave up hope and chose to go from sobriety back to alcoholism, into a form of regrettable self-destruction. Hook knew that it was not the way to go about life but he felt he had no other choice and had nothing left to lose, leading him to further prioritize and depend on rum to continue living. He built a tolerance to it, needing a copious amount to get drunk, and potentially suffering withdrawals from it after getting in too deep. From the state he was in by the time he gets old and portly, being a nearly homeless drunkard, it can be assumed that he spent most of his days looking for money to acquire more alcohol so he could feel okay.

Finally, by the end of the series, Killian Jones had managed to go through all the stages in the Stages of Change Model. He was in the Precontemplation stage as a pirate and Captain Hook as he didn’t see a problem in his daily rum and alcohol festivities, making no commitment to change his ways. By the time he gets to be Wish Hook and becomes a father, hesitant about settling down, he could be in the Contemplation stage. He’d want to do something about his alcohol problem and not be stuck relying on it but doesn’t know how to go about it or why he should, therefore staying stagnant to change. When he has his daughter, Alice, in his arms for the first time, we see him in the Preparation stage, planning to give up his ship, sea life, status, and most importantly, rum. Hook gives himself time to think of why he would do so and how he’d commit to it, eventually telling his crew the news. By the time he is taking care of her, he has already taken the actions needed to wean himself off alcohol and apply himself towards abstinence, taking him through the Action and Maintenance stages. There is a relapse back to the Contemplation stage in the paragraph before when he becomes poisoned and loses hope. Even so, the silver lining is that he had made the hard journey back into the Maintenance stage with the help of Ariel detoxing him and others giving him a magical second chance of bodily time renewal, sparking the hope to reunite with Alice and find a cure for his poisoned heart.

Plans go awry on this end as we get to his final iteration as he is teleported and cursed into our modern day and age as Detective Rogers. Although his memories of what happened in the past as this persona are fuzzy, he is shown to stick to his renewed alcohol abstinence and maintains that in many ways, just like when he was Wish Hook. His habits become integrated as a function rather than a hindrance as part of the Maintenance stage. As Rogers, we can see him frequent bars such as Roni’s or Flynn’s Barcade when he is invited out with others. He is shown to let others know what to get him, as a regular or not, something non-alcoholic. This usually shows up as sparkling water or regular water with a lemon slice in it. His friends and work partner continue to support his sobriety through friendly acceptance and never forcing him to drink alcohol along with them. Rogers is tempted by alcohol again when he believes a missing girl from a cold case, one he was responsible for since he was drinking on the night she went missing, is dead. He sits on a park bench alone grieving, a full bottle of rum next to him, ready to drink. As Rogers gives it a whiff, he is disgusted at himself for getting back to this state again and slams the bottle down on the bench in frustration, not even having taken a sip. He came too far that doing so again would be meaningless and would get him nowhere. Even though he is in situations full of temptation, he makes huge strides to not relapse and maintain his sobriety, with the hopes that it will eventually lead him back on the right path of happiness and belonging. Fortunately, his actions have positive consequences that ring true when the curse breaks and he gets reunited with his daughter and has the strong support of friends and family. In conclusion, Hook is a flawed human being that is more complex and his struggle with alcohol/rum is just a part of him, one he will never lose but continues living with.

#killian jones #captain hook #wish hook #detective rogers #killian jones meta #alcoholism #alcohol #stages of change #character study #ouat s7 #liam jones #slight emma swan mention

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phoenixyfriend · 4 years ago

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Madara and Obito... In SPACE

So the preface to this mess: I don’t know jackshit about Star Wars, so a lot of this went through friends who do know Star Wars (the primary of which does not have a tumblr).

(I have watched Episodes 7&8, and Rogue One. Of the first six movies, I remember watching maybe an hour total. I have not seen more than snatches of Clone Wars. Beyond that, nothing but fic.)

Anyway! Let’s go:

As y’all probably know by now, my favorite form of crossover is what I call “intrusive,” so... I'm enjoying the mental concept of "dump Madara on Coruscant and watch him go." (Prequels, probably.)

Does Madara know what's going on? No. Can he understand a word that's being said? No! Is he going to fight the first person to aim a weapon at him, and every person after that? Yes.

Is Madara fighting fit?

Nnnnnnnnnnnnnno, not really, he’s old as balls. This is "I was on cave life support but I'm getting back up to kick ass out of pure spite" Madara.

[Image description: A screenshot of a panel of the Naruto Manga. Uchiha Madara is old and visibly ‘decrepit,’ with spiky white hair and an amorphous black robe. He is sitting on a pale throne, and there is a scythe visible to the side. He has a speech bubble saying “I am... a ghost of the Uchiha.” End Description]

Two wrinkly old guys, staring each other down: There ain't enough room in this universe for the two of us. [Palpatine and Madara start fighting to the death]

Congrats, Palpatine! Your ass is getting kicked by a geriatric malcontent who doesn't speak any language you've ever heard or feel like literally anything in the Force. You may have Sith lightning, but do you have decades of frontline experiences and over half a century of cave-dwelling bitterness?

Both of them, simultaneously, in completely different languages: Get off my lawn, whipper-snapper.

Palpatine: Behold my mastery of the Dark Side, Foolish old man! Palpatine: [shoots lightning] Madara: Oh hey, you're like the seventeenth most dangerous person who can shoot lightning I've fought. Telekinesis? Fought that. Combat precognition? Fought that, have that, and let me tell you hwat, it doesn't help if you're opponent is just that much faster than you.

Now, I’ll take a step back and acknowledge that several people advised me that Palpatine would stand a chance against Madara, likely even win, if Madara just got hacked off of his life support and is down to one eye.

But. I want a shitpost, and also to clown on Palpatine, so Madara wins easily.

Madara also deserves to be clowned on, but the entire situation is clowning on him because he’s not in his cave anymore, and he really wants to go back to his Gedou Mazou statue.

Maybe Madara and Palpatine go Old Man Fight and then Obito just pulls a Ninja Move and kills Palpatine that way. Madara was ranting and Obito just. Ninjas behind Palpatine and slits his throat like “okay, you’re obviously evil so like... bye.”

(I just love causing "Wait what" reactions in characters that are used to having total control. Like. Have you read "Unexpected Guests"? The Bleach fic? Everything that happens in Hueco Mundo and after. That energy. I want that energy.)

Madara waves his scythe around like a cane. Obito just trails after like “Gramps, no” because it’s still pre-Sanbi, so he’s Mostly Innocent (you know, on the scale of how fucked up Obito is as a person), and just wants Madara to like. Stop.

Palpatine dies but nobody's sure what to charge Madara with since he did kind of expose a Sith? And Palpatine attacked first for [handwave] reasons?

Jedi: Well sir, in lieu of charging you with assassination of the emperor, we have decided to ask you politely to return to the elderly person's retirement home from whence you came. Please leave immediately. You are frightening the senate. Madara: [incomprehensible raving] Jedi: Yes yes, very interesting. Jedi, whispering: Does anyone know his caretaker???

Obito looks increasingly put-upon as events progress. You need Obito there to... well, not translate. Nobody can translate. But to at least poke Madara into being Slightly Less Homicidal.

Anakin seems sad about his friend dying and being evil so Obito challenges him to a spar. Madara and Obito get pulled into the Jedi Temple to help train Padawans? My first thought was "they wouldn't trust someone so obviously Weird, Crazy, and Incomprehensible around the younglings" and my second thought was "well they let Yoda do it and he's all those things so I mean? YEAH."

What if they put Madara in the bacta tank and he just freshened up like a daisy because of hand-wave Hashirama cell reasons (Blame Sir Tiddyface).

From “Decrepit and Reliant on Cave Tube Life Support” to “Will Call Down Meteors With Ease”

How many eyes does he have? Whatever’s funniest. Let’s say one Eternal Mangekyo Sharingan and one Rinnegan, for maximum chaos.

Would "half my body is missing" Obito freak out if Bacta regrew his eye? Can bacta regrow something like that? When characters lose limbs they usually just get cybernetic replacements, but the person I spoke with said that apparently they saw somewhere that that kind of thing can grow back it just takes a really long time.

I want to imagine bacta would help Obito with the Zetsu integration.

Anyway! Yes. Have Madara help train people despite being... Madara about it. You know... kind of a dick.

(I’d put example gifs but I don’t feel up to it. Y’all know what Madara’s “weakness disgusts me” ass is like.)

Obito had to get his "these fools could never make me sweat" sass from somewhere, after all.

Do you think Obito could fight the baby Jedi that are around his age while recovering? I have no idea what their skill level is at fourteen, but I want to imagine Obito sparring the Padawans.

Obito + Zetsu + Bacta = he still needs physical therapy but he can spar again!

Madara is delighted to have a baby ninja to bully. He's too old to not bully baby ninjas, and Obito is the only baby ninja. TBH Madara just makes Obito his assistant teacher.

Obito: What are we even doing here and how do we get home? Madara: I'm still working on that. Obito: But I want to go home and see Rin and Kakashi! Madara, who was like two days away from triggering the Sanbi plan: I'm working on it.

Something sticking in my mind rn is Ahsoka&Obito, since Obito is still Baby.

I think Obito would be excited to have someone his age that thought he was Cool and Talented for being able to do Chakra Things instead of writing him off as "the dead-last." Like, Rin is friends with him, but she doesn't look up to him as someone more/differently talented. He'd be excited to get to be "The Mysterious Cool Big Bro" for once.

I feel I also just like the idea of Anakin not knowing what to do with someone Several Years Younger that is also. Ninja Skill.

Miscellaneous thoughts:

Madara is a grouchy old man even AFTER he gets effectively de-aged via bacta dunk, for the record. He's back in his prime and the Jedi have no idea how. They're all concerned about tiddyface*. (When are people not concerned about Sir Tiddyface, really.) The mokuton is a problem.

*Sir Tiddyface is that random Hashirama face that Madara had growing out of his pecs for like... convoluted bullshit reasons.

(Madara doesn't have mokuton, but he has enough Hashirama cells that it interacted very, VERY weirdly with the bacta.)

Obito spends the intervening weeks trying to learn the local language. He's very eager. Not particularly fast. Still doing it though!

I want Obito juggling kunai as physical therapy while he's waiting for Mads to get out of the bacta tank and just gains himself the adoration of a gaggle of small baby Jedi children.

Madara comes out of the bacta tank looking like he did in his prime (which I mentioned earlier but whatever), and it absolutely incites a yelling match of an argument that draws way too much attention.

Someone tries to teach Obito how to access the Force, just to see what happens. He almost turns into a statue because the philosophy behind Force meditation is only a few steps away from Sage Mode Meditation.

Anyway, Madara smacks him with a stick like Fukasaku to make sure Obito doesn't turn into stone.

Madara grumps about the lack of paper and brushes and ink. Bitches about it until someone hits up an antique store or something to get them for him. The day before he and Obito are dispatched on a mission with someone, probably Anakin for plot reasons, Madara very publicly seals things into a scroll and then tells them that no, they can't learn it, because the Force isn't chakra so fuuinjutsu won't work for them, so There.

Obito practices some Teen Rebellion (tm) and like, tries to teach the Padawan friends he's made how to do Chakra Things... but he's so bad at explaining things that nobody can get it to work even if it were possible.

In Obito's defense, language barriers. Not in Obito's defense, he's just really bad at words sometimes.

#Star Wars #Star Wars Prequels #Naruto #Uchiha Madara #Uchiha Obito #crossovers #Phoenix Posts #body horror mention

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starr-fall-knight-rise · 4 years ago

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HASO, “Confrontation.”

You guys have been asking me to writ this one for ages, and I finally got around to it. hope you all enjoy :)

Sirens blare overhead. Red light pulsed in and out of existence as large white spotlights raked their way over the barren grey/purple ground. In the distance gouts of whie mist squirted up from craters in the moon’s surface filling the dark night sky with a gaseous haze. Off in the distance, chain gangs of aliens and humans alike worked to mine precious metals from the soil using pickaxes and drills under the supervision of strict and brooding alien guards, most of them Drev, some of them human supervised on more than one occasion by a uniformed Tesraki. Overhead, in the distant sky, lights winked on and off from the orbiting Kepler Station, where any visiting ships were docked.

No ships larger than a six person shuttle were allowed onto the surface of the moon, and none were allowed within a ten mile radius of the A1 Supermax penitentiary fittingly nicknamed New Alcatraz. Where the Turma supermax facility on Noctopolis was known for its brutality, New Alcatraz was known for its security. The moon on which it was set had no other colonies and no other facility. It was an entire moon dedicated to a single prison. All of the employees who worked in the prison lived off-world on the Kepler Station.

No vehicles were housed at the prison itself, and when it was time for the emp;oyees to return to the station, a vehicle would be dispatched from one of the garages on that ten mile radius to come pick up the employee, but only after the proper biometric readings were taken.

New Alcatraz had been built after another facility breach that had involved infected starborn, a half mad, Gibb, and a couple of corrupt ex Drev leaders. Most of the prisoners had been moved here after the incident, and great precautions were being taken to see that such an event never happened again.

A single hover car sped over the surface of the moon, and under the darkened sky.

Four individuals sat inside two Drev and two humans, one of them driving.

As they approached the prison grew larger and larger in their vision an intimidating span of concrete, steel, razor wire, and laser webs which rose up into the sky and spread out across the moon like the roots of a great tree. They made it all the way o the docking bay where automated turrets controlled from the Kepler station followed them as they stepped out of the vehicle. The driver stayed where he was, leaving just one human and two Drev to be greeted by uniformed guards dressed in black tactical gear from head to toe.

They nodded to the human, who wore a pristine grey uniform and white belt, captains cap resting atop his head before greeting the drev, one of them inconspicuous despite his nine foot size in comparison to the smaller Drev, whose body seemed to glow with pearlescent light cast off by the beautifully crafted armor which she wore. None of them carried weapons, and so they were ushered over to the side of the docking bay where their biometric readings were taken. Retinal, fingerprint, Dna, weight, and body measurements taken by a massive and expensive machine who could detect the smallest change in a biological signature.

Sunny stepped out onto the cold floor of the prison armor clattering lightly as she did so.

Adam was waiting for her as was Cannon, his massive hulkin shape glowing red like blood in the near darkness.

Adam looked at her with some measure of concern, “Are you sure you want to do this, there is still time to turn back, forget about her.”

Sunny turned to look at him, “Are you implying that I can’t handle her?”

He tilted his head and frowned crossing his arms over his chest, “Sunny I KNOW you can handle her, but I am just letting you know that it is an option. You don’t have to grace her with your presence. By all means she doesn't deserve to see you.” he turned to look at Cannon, “Either of you, after what she did, and now that you are Sainted, she deserves to see you even less. She is not worthy of your presence as a parent or as a proprietor of your religion.’

Sunny tilted her head staring at the man who despite his aggressive posture -- feet spread shoulder width and arms crossed over his chest -- she found mildly adorable, with his lip jutting out definitely. Despite being Admiral of the entire GA and UNSC space fleet, the man didn’t exactly do intimidating well, at least not to her.

Cannon, who had stayed quiet up to this point added quietly, “Adam is right, she doesn't deserve to see us, and she thinks I’m dead after all.”

Sunny lifted her head, “Than you can wait in the lobby, but I am going to finish this, once and for all, closure.”

“If you go I go.” Cannon said stubbornly and Sunny huffed, blowing a large gust of air out from the holes in her neck.

She turned to look at Adam, “I suppose this means you’re coming too.”

“Unless you strictly ask me not to.”

She thought about telling him no, but decided against it. Having him by her side on a day like this was comforting. Despite everything that had happened between them over the last few months, they had recently fallen back into their same rhythm of behavior. Granted it wasn’t far along as it had one been, but the friendship sure hadn’t been lost, and the hope of getting back to where they once were was strong.

“No, you can come.”

He nodded brusquely.

“Then I have your back.”

She glanced over at her brother who nodded tersely in agreement, “Let's get this over with.”

***

General Kazna, or Cosma as she was known by the humans, sat on the floor in the middle of her sell. She did not move, she rarely moved these days. Muscle that had once been hard with battle was not atrophied away leaving her thin and brittle in her age. Even if she had enough room to move it wouldn’t have mattered: her legs: twisted and deformed as they could not bare her weight without great agony.

She was crippled.

In an act of revenge that had cut the tendons of her feet. She was what she had once despised, and here in this prison, they would not let her rest, they would not let her honorably fade into the blackness. They watched her day and night, they had stripped all objects from her rooms in an attempt to keep her from returning to the spirits. She had tried other ways, but her body had proven too strong, or the equipment too weak, so on one or two occasions, they had saved her life just to lock her back in this prison and leave her to rot.

She had tired to forgo water and food wishing to waste away, but te survival instinct of the Drev ran too deep over the long term, and she was unable to finish herself honorably. It was the worst punishment she could have thought of, to be left on the face of the world as a cripple unable to die.

And so she sat there in the darkness of her cell day and night dreaming of great battles she had once fought in, armies she had led, and…. The glory and happiness she had once shared with her dear beloved Lanus, dead more than half a decade now, his body decaying into the moss and stone of a bone riddled battlefield. Oh how she missed him, how she had missed him for two and a half decades as they grew apart, as his demeanor had soured towards her.

She thought it was that, which she regretted most of all.

She rocked back and forth slightly imagining his handsome gold carapace and his strong arms that had held her when they were young, when they were still happy.

Kazna wished to be with him again, wanted nothing more than to finally give up this body so decrepit and broken.

Despite her misery and self loathing, she was not entirely useless, and with her sharp senses she still detected the soft clattering of four pairs of feet coming up the hallway, two of them drev, one of them human.

She sneered.

She hated humans, even more so than the day she had first met them in battle. It was THEY who had taken her home from her, THEY who had destroyed her life, and THEY who had killed her dear Lanus.

The footsteps walked forward, and she expected them to pass by her sell, but instead, they stopped before her, silent except for the shuffling of metal on metal.

She opened her eyes blinking owlishly in the light.

It was the armor that caught her eye first. She had never seen anything like it over the course of her lifetime, but she would have known it anywhere. Pearlescent, glowing like a fallen star from the heavens, the mark of the saints. For a moment she thought she was witnessing some sort of strange illusion, a spirit taken form from the heavens. The light bent and swirled around the body of the Drev, and it was only as her eyes adjusted and the light faded that she saw the face staring back at her.

A face she knew all too well.

She jolted back away holding herself up by just her hands, “You!” her voice came out as a strangled sort of yelp.

Chalan, Kazna’s daughter, looked back at her from under the helmet of a Saint.

“Kazna.”

Kazna covered her eyes, wiped at her face and looked up again, sure that she was hallucinating, sure it was all a lie, but the armor only seemed to glow all the brighter as she looks.

“I… it can’t be.” She whispered,”You’re not… you.”

“What? Not worthy? The Sentinel of the mountain begs to differ.”

Kazna started

Chalan stepped forward face just opposite the humming barrier of energy, “I climbed to the top of the mountain and there I met the watcher Naktan, who helped me develop the new doctrine. Even as we speak it is being spread far and wide among the Drev.”

Kazna shook her head, “No.”

“Yes, the old ways are bringing us into the future mother, the true beliefs of our ancestors are being restored…. One of them, I think you might be interested to hear. The doctrine of the spear….which I am told is a doctorne as old as time and perverted by generations past, a doctorinthat says any Drev born with the ability to hold a spear shall be spared the fire.”

Kazna started, “What meaning does this have to me! Why are you here?’

Chalan stared at her impassively, nothing like the stubborn young Drev who had lived her life through impulse. This was the cold stare of a warrior, and Kazna couldn’t deny that.

“As a Saint, i might say that every Drev deserves to know the truth, to hear about changes in our religion despite their status, but…. Honestly mother, my reasons are a little more pretty than that. You were wrong about me, and your hatred tore our family apart.” There was a shifting behind her and kazna raised her eyes to find…. But n… this couldn’t be right either, it was an apparition! A lie! This couldn't be real.

She struggled to her feet in such horrific pain tat she had to claw her way up the wall to get a better look, “Kanan….m...my son…. You can’t be real.”

The hulking shape stepped out of the shadow to reveal the truth. That iwas, in fact, her son, with his blood red carapace and eyes like his father, “But I am.”

They were both here, both of her children, and one of them sainted. It must have been a delirious dream. None of this could have been real, but deep down she knew it was, she wasn’t that far gone.”

Chalan tilted her head, “You’ve fallen far, mother.”

Kazna hissed, “Leave me to my peace!” She shrieked. She Turned her head in an angry whirlwind and as she did, her eyes fell on the figure standing just behind thm, diminutive in comparison to a Drev, with only two arms,and a very human face. She recognized him instantly, and flew into a violent rage that tossed her pain from her like a cloak. She slammed her hands against the barrier despite the shocks it sent up her arms.

“YOU,YOU MURDERER!”

The human stared at her impulsive but said nothing

She was livid spitting vitriol at the human who had killed her dear Lanus.

“How dare you betray him!” She said whirling on Chalan, “How dare you betray his memory, by befriending this, this THING.”

Chalan sneered at her, “You’re pathetic mother. Father died in fair battle, and I hold no grudge.”

“You disgrace, hiding behind the cowardly worm who killed your father. This maggot riddled spite filled unworthy creature!”

WIth a sudden jolt of movement chalan slammed her hand against the side of the wall causing kazna to stubble back and fall, “You will not speak of him that way!” her eyes glowed gold like fire and she seemed to grow larger with her anger despite her diminutive size. “You pathetic hate filled shadow. This human has showed me nothing but honor and respect, which is far more than you have ever done, and with my blessing he carries the legacy of MY father, who I KNOW would respect him as a warrior should.”

Kazna was so angry she could hardly speak.

“What is he to you.”

Standing across the barrier, both of thm shaking with pent up tension and rage.

With her voice tight like a rubber band, straining as if it were to break, Sunny leaned forward, “You will not speak of MY battle partner in such a manner.”

Kazna froze. The tension between them drew tight until it snapped completely.

She saw red, and white and black all in quick succession. She screamed until her voice broke and slammed her hand against the barrier. Her daughter with her husband’ MURDERER!

Kazna continued to scream until the guards rushed in, and she had to be restrained physically.

As she turned her head, she watched as the group of them were ushered away, but she caught Chalan’s eyes and as she did she watched as her daughter rested an affectionate hand on the man’s shoulder the look on her face one of wicked glee.

And then she screamed some more.

***

“So uh, mind telling me what the hell that was about?”

Adam drew to a halt as Sunny marched down the hallway, forcing them all to a stop Cannon looking almost as confused.

Sunny drew to a stop stiffly, “I’m sorry…. I just, I wanted to watch her hurt.”

“As much as I enjoyed her little tantrum,” Adam began, “I was last under the impression that you and I weren’t a thing anymore, unless there is something I missed and we are again, in which case I’m not complaining but….. It's kind of a hell of a way to find out, and admittedly not one that I particularly appreciate.”

She looked away.

“I’m not a fan of being used like that.”

“I’m sorry.” Shewhispered, “I got carried away…. And I...I guess I wasn’t as ready as I said I was.”

She looked up and with a good natured smile he shrugged, “As an expert in not being as ready as I think I am, I can forgive you.” He rested a hand on his arm, “Maybe you will listen to me next time I suggest it isn’t a good idea. I do have your back after all.”

She lifted her head and nodded, “I know.”

“Besides that…. Did it help Confronting her?”

Sunny paused and stared down at the floor.

“No…. it feels empty.”

Spite had brought her nothing

And she felt no better.

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the-sympathetic-villain · 4 years ago

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You Belong With Me - Chapter 37

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Description: Much to his surprise, after being released from prison for a crime he didn’t commit, Logan has been appointed as a the prince’s new advisor.

Word Count: 6833

Chapter Warnings: Chapter Warnings: Restraints, Control, Lashing out, Pain, Kidnapping, Mentions of selling a person, Treating a person like property, Forced incapacitation, Crying, Fear, Angst, Cages, Choking, Threats, More Crying, Death mention (Please let me know if I need to tag anything else!)

Author’s note: This one got a little heavier than intended, but I promise our boys are better for it in the end :)

---

Logan stirred, trying to shake the hazy feeling from his head as it hung heavily between his shoulders. Gradually, he finally cracked his eyes open as he forced himself to scan his surroundings. His vision blurred as nausea twisted in his stomach. He paused letting his head slump back down as his stomach settled.

He groaned, trying to sit up as his nausea started to abated. His breathing nearly stopped as he felt a thin rope cutting into his wrists between his legs. He jolted upright, anxiety burning his chest as he twisted his body, unable to make out his surroundings through his blurry vision. Logan felt his heart pounding in his throat as tree bark dug into his back and his legs moved in the dirt underneath him.

“Relax.”

A shiver ran up Logan’s neck and he stilled immediately at Dee's dreary voice sounded above him. His muscles tensed as he bit down into the gag in his mouth. He tried to blink away the wetness that was brought to his eyes but the sudden wave of fear threatened to overwhelm him.

How could I be so stupid? Why would I walk straight into their trap?

“Stay still.”

Logan froze, clenching his eyes shut as he nodded stiffly.

“Open your eyes.”

Still rigid, Logan forced his eyes open, dipping his head to his ground submissively as his vision cleared. A small, shift in the dirt in front of him made him wince, biting into his gag as he attempted to remain motionless.

Slow steps circled around his right side. He instinctively flinched as Dee knelt in his periphery, staring at him intently.

“Look around, kid.” Dee's soft voice sounded next to him. “It's just the two of us.”

Logan didn't move, feeling his breath catch in his throat as he sat paralyzed with distrust of Dee’s words. His skin crawled as Dee leaned closer, moving slowly as he reached around Logan’s head. The man’s movements were gentle as he pulled the gag from his mouth, but still, Logan’s gut wrenched at contact as the panic continued to rise in his chest.

Dee seemed to notice his hesitancy, because he softened his already quiet tone. “Seriously, you're safe with me. I sent Remus away—”

“Why—” Logan swallowed, his throat burning as bile rose in his throat. He kept his gaze trained on Dee in his periphery, wincing as the man rose to his feet. “W-why would you even bother?”

“Simple necessity.” Dee returned in a bored tone. “I needed him to keep an eye on that prince of yours to make sure he doesn’t cause trouble.”

Adrenaline shot a jolt through Logan’s body and his head shot up to meet Dee’s uncaring gaze. “I agreed to do whatever you asked, but if you hurt him, I won't—”

“Don't be so dramatic.” Janus drawled as he stepped away, giving Logan a view of the forest around them for the first time. “As long as you cooperate, Remus is under strict orders to keep his distance from your precious lover.”

Logan curled his knees to his chest and glared at Dee as he glanced around the quiet haze of the woods. The air was cold as he took in the trees through the glow of the early morning light. He grimaced, glancing bitterly at the bandages on Dee’s arms. “Remus hardly has a history of self-restraint.”

“Rest assured. As long as I have access to my power, Remus will do as he's told." Dee seemed to notice Logan’s attention on his arms, pulling his sleeves down and covering his wounds. He sneered down at Logan reaching into the collar of his shirt to pull out an luminescent necklace out from his collar. The jagged piece of glowing amber stood out against the deep, blue light of the early morning. “Do you know what this is?”

Skepticism filled Logan's gaze as he shook his head, curling into himself at the unfamiliar magic. “No, I don’t.”

“This is a signal gem. They're created in pairs and this particular gem has a twin that glows at the same brilliant hue.” Dee eyed the gem with a glimmer in his eyes. “That amulet is in Remus’ hands.”

Logan bit his lip, trying not to give away the chills that ran up his spine as Dee continued. “So?”

“Amber is a particularly fragile gem. Simply dropping it could shatter the amulet, severing it's connection to it's twin.” Dee smirked, his sharp, white teeth growing in the dark. “No connection means the amulet Remus has stops glowing, and if that happens, Remus knows he can do whatever he likes to your dear prince. So—” Dee hissed threateningly. “—let's behave, shall we?”

Logan growled, baring his teeth at Dee before dropping back against the tree behind him. “That's not necessary.”

“What?” Dee hissed as Logan’s head dropped tiredly.

“It's not necessary and nor is this—” Logan raised his bound wrists with a tired snarl. “—I agreed to play my part in whatever game you have planned for me." Logan dropped his wrists into his lap, chewing the inside of his cheek to quell the emotions raging in his chest. “There’s no need for you to torment my friends as well.”

Dee seemed to eye him carefully for a long minute before letting out a sharp breath. “If you continue to cooperate, your friends will not be touched. You have my word.”

Avoiding Dee’s withering stare, Logan felt a lump in throat as his gaze dropped to the ground. His shoulders went slack with acceptance and he nodded, unable to form any meaningful words.

“Good.” Dee muttered, tossing a bag over his shoulder. “Then, get on your feet. We've got a lot of ground to cover before the sun sets.”

A groan was pulled from Logan as Dee's fingers curled tightly around his shoulder, yanking him to his feet. The sudden movement was jarring, nearly sending him flying until Dee’s hand pressed him into tree behind him. Logan gasped, freezing as he caught a metallic glimmer in the tall fae's hand.

“I'd best not see your commitment waver.” Dee's hand remained pressed on Logan’s shoulder, pinning him as he pointed a long, silver dagger towards Logan's face. Logan's chest tightened as the knife lingered near his face as Dee continued. “If I start to suspect your resolve is weakening, I will not hesitate to put you back in your binds.”

Logan flinched as Dee brought the dagger down in one swift movement. His whole body went numb with anticipation until the ropes binding his wrists fell to the ground. He barely had time to process the twist of fate before a cloak was shoved into his arms, leaving him staring blankly at his captor.

“I don't need you freezing to death as we walk,” Dee muttered, snarling as Logan froze staring up at him. “but you'd best start moving before I change my mind.”

Logan jolted at Dee's hostile tone, nodding as he scrambled to climb the small hill to the decrepit, old road above. He felt his heart pound in his chest and increased his pace as he caught Dee’s shadowy figure catching up in the fog behind him

“Move quickly.” Dee's hiss behind him sent shivers down Logan's spine as he increased his pace. “We've two days to reach our destination and we can't afford to linger if we’re going to make it to our destination in time.”

Logan pulled the cloak over shoulders, growling with resent as Dee shoved him forward. He bit his lip and pulled the hood over his head as he sulked forward, muttering under his breath. “It's hardly seems my fault that you planned this poorly."

“Don't press your luck on my generosity, kid.” Dee spat irritably from behind Logan. “I didn't have to give you more time with your bastard friends.”

Logan's eyes went wide at Dee’s heated words and he was suddenly grateful for the hood that now covered his face. He glanced skeptically over his shoulder at the tall figure gliding beside him. His eyes lingered for a moment on the smooth skin of the man's disguised face before turning forward to stare at the ground as they journeyed down the road. Logan tugged at his sleeve, crossing his arms across his chest as his mind raced.

It's not possible. He doesn't actually care.

---

Dee sulked behind his captive, gritting his teeth as he shivered miserably in the cold. The chill had long since settled deep into his bones as they'd walked down the road without sharing a word between them. He had to admit he was grateful that the silence as he passed down the road in abject misery. His reptilian nature never mixed well with the cold, wet weather of the forest, especially when whatever god were watching decided to make it drizzle down on them during their entire goddamn journey. Even then, his despair didn't end their. His distinct disdain for the cold was still thoroughly outweighed by the tugging sensation of the subtle glamour hiding his scales. Holding the disguise didn't require much energy, but he'd never gotten used to sensation of wearing a face that didn’t belong to him. His skin burned and tugged as the layers of skin stretched across his scales.

Fortunately, at the very least, he hadn't had to listen to the kid whine. In the hours they'd been walking, he'd barely made a sound. He'd walked ahead of Dee in silence, staring at the ground, only looking up to occasionally greet the occasional stragglers that had passed them on the road. He'd been wary of the kid’s intentions, but eventually he couldn’t deny that the kid;s friendly nature seemed to draw less attention than if he’d been playing the part of a captive. Dee felt his gaze drift up to the back of the kid’s cloak as he stalked along the edge of the road. Truly, the guy was fascinating to watch. Life seemed to spark in him each time a human traveler passed them, waving and greeting each person in turn as if he knew them. He was downright bubbly with enthusiasm as he greeted them. It was insufferable, and yet, Dee preferred that version of the kid to the one he watched now.

Without fail, each time the stranger disappeared from sight, the kid's shoulders slumped and his head dropped back to the ground. All of the energy seemed to drain from his body, and the shuffle of his feet turned to that of a dead man walking. Dee chewed his lip at the thought. Unfortunately, the description was less of a comparison than it was an observation. After all, whether he knew it or not, the kid wouldn’t survive this encounter. This was his walk to the gallows and Dee could hardly blame him for dragging his feet.

“There’s a town ahead.”

Dee looked up, surprised by the sound of the first words that the kid had spoken to him in hours. “What?”

“The town ahead has a market.” Logan hung his head as his hesitant whisper broke the silence. “We could stop there for supplies if—”

“We're skipping the town.” Dee didn’t miss the way the kid flinched at his sharp reply.

“T-That bag you’re carrying—” The kid paused, almost slowing his pace until Dee growled behind him. “—That doesn't seem like enough supplies for another day. If we could only stop—”

“The second day of our journey will take place in the Other Realm.” He stated dryly, forcing the kid forward as he hesitated. “Any supplies we get here would spoil and be useless.”

“The Other Realm?”

“The Faerie Realm, you idiot." Dee growled, leering down at the kid as he resisted.

“But—"

“We’re not stopping. That’s final.” Dee hissed threateningly. “Now, move.”

“Please.” The kid stumbled backward, voice trembling as he pleaded to Dee to stop. “Grant me one request before we continue—"

“I’m not taking requests,” Dee hissed as he grabbed the kid's cloak, shoving him on the path away from town. “especially not from you.”

“Please—” The kid’s plea was cut short as he tumbled over a root, falling back on the rocky path.

“On your feet.” Dee snapped, feeling his irritation reaching a breaking point. He ached to pull at the skin on his face, and to shed the unnecessary layers of skin hiding his scales. The heat of his discomfort only grew as the kid seemed to root himself down, determined to argue. “We're not wasting time stopping. I will carry you kicking and screaming, if I have to—”

“I'm only asking to—”

“Or perhaps, I'll just give Remus the signal to kill your sweet prince.” Dee growled, catching the man's collar and pulling him to his feet. He dangled his glowing piece of amber just out of the man's reach. “I'll leave the choice to you."

A flash of fear lit up in Logan’s eyes, immediately followed by a glare of seething anger as he stared up at Dee helplessly. Dee watched carefully as the kid's shoulders sank submissively and he pushed himself out of Dee’s grip, making his way down the path away from town. “Fine. I'm going."

Dee's shoulders sank as the kid turned and stalked down the road ahead of him. Guilt pricked at his heart painfully as he forced thoughts of his old friend from his mind. The kid looked so much like Tara it hurt. He could almost feel her disappointed rage through her kid’s eyes.

The thought weighed heavy on his heart. Her sacrifice had spared the kid a few extra years of his life, but it had ultimately it had been in vain. Here he was on the precipice of the inevitable once more. Dee grimaced. The kid was facing death after being dragged in a war he was too young to remember. He didn't deserve this fate. Tara would have been furious. Dee flushed with guilt at the thought of the way his old friend’s cheeks used to grow red when she was upset.

Dee lifted his head, watching the heavy steps of the man walking in front of him. His skin still burned and his discomfort was growing with each step, but he knew taking out his misery on the kid was unfair. He sighed, slowing his pace as he dropped his guard.

“Logan, stop.”

His apology was cut short as a sudden snap of a twig behind him sent a jolt of adrenaline through his body. Dee spun on his feet with a hiss, holding his hand out in front of Logan as he scanned the trees behind him.

“What's happening?” Logan’s worried voice echoed in his ear. “Dee!”

An eerie, hollow sound floated through the air and Dee’s knees were suddenly weak as a dense, heavy magic settled in the air over him, making him dizzy. Hands caught him from behind, lowering him to the ground as his legs folded abruptly underneath him. His eyes fluttered as panic rose in his chest as he recognized the familiar sound.

The Seelie's Song.

“Looks like we've got a live one, boys.”

Hunters.

Dee groaned, barely keeping his eyes open as shadows moved out of the woods around them. The eerie song slowed to a stop as one of the dark figures stepped out of the dark. A woman dressed in black clothing stepped forward, dropping a small, white horn from her lips.

“Stay back.”

Dee flinched as Logan's voice growled at the shadows around them. Through his blurred vision, Dee could only guess there were four or five humans around them. He tensed trying desperately to stay awake as their ring leader laughed cruelly from above him.

“Well, look at that. The faerie boy's pet is loyal, even when his master's on the ground.” A chorus of laughter echoed through the trees above him as the woman paced in front of them, leering at him hungrily. “Not that I blame him. This one's powerful enough to stay awake under the horn's charm. He'll fetch a nice price from the southern royals.”

Dee's breath caught in his throat as realization struck him.

She doesn't know the kid's fae.

Of course not. The Seelie’s Song wouldn’t affect him. The horn's magic only drew energy from creatures of the light and the kid was created from the literal darkness incarnate. Not to mention, the kid's appearance was so close to human only a fae could spot the difference.

“Release your pet and I’ll consider sparing him, faerie boy.” The woman's voice held a certain viciousness as she pulled a dagger from her waist, pointing it down at him. “We're not taking freeloaders where you’re going.”

“You’re not taking him—”

“Silence.” Dee hissed, filling his voice with as much power as he could as he held his glare on the woman above. Compelling Logan may not have any effect, but Dee didn’t mind putting on a show if it might convince her. “Leave now. You’re free to go.”

“But—”

"Our journey is being cut short. I'm granting you your freedom.” Dee hissed, glancing over his shoulder, desperate to cut off any chance for the kid to give himself away. He growled, glaring weakly up at the hunter sneering down at him. “Go home. Now.”

He could feel the kid hesitate behind him as the woman raised the white horn to her lips again. The hollow sound of the song settled into his bones, draining the energy from his muscles. His eyes drooped, nearly giving way to the darkness pulling at the edges of his vision. Desperately, he put his remaining energy into one last whisper.

“Logan, go.” Dee begged. "Please."

“You heard your boss, kid.” The woman's voice grated in Dee’s ears as Logan’s grip on his shoulders loosened. "Get lost.”

“Sorry, Dee.”

Dee swallowed his own fear as Logan lowered him to the ground. His body started to shake as he heard Logan’s slow steps as he backed away, turning to run into the trees.

“Grab him.”

Thick hands closed around his arms as he was pulled to his knees. His head hung between his shoulders as rough hands yanked his arms in front of him. Dee sucked in a sharp breath as heavy shackles closed around his wrists. He nearly slumped forward as the last of his energy left his body, but a hand caught his throat, keeping him upright.

“You’re more impressive than most of our catches.” The woman's fingers gazed his throat as his disguise faded away and she examined his face. “I'll bet I can even talk up your price if I show them your pretty scales.”

“I will make you regret this, you coward.” Dee whispered, eyes fluttering as he swayed with exhaustion.

“Oh, honey. You won't get the chance.": The woman's nails dug into his neck, letting out an uncaring chuckle as Dee winced. “You’re going to be on ship out of the country by sun down tomorrow, and once they torture your true name out of you, you'll be no more than a pretty fixture in some spoiled royal's home.”

“I won’t give them what they want.” Dee protested weakly as his heart dropped in his chest. Reality was starting to sink in as his eyes drooped shut and his shoulders slumped. His eyes dropped to the ground at the sudden realization that this may be the end for him. Certainly, the Seelie Court would search for him, but if he was moved across the sea, they may well never find him. Hell, if they managed to steal his name, it won't matter if he's found.

I’ll be a slave.

“You're not going to be given a choice, babe.” The woman forced Dee's face up to look at her. Another jolt of panic shot straight to his heart as he caught sight of the Seelie's Song in the woman's hand once more. “By the time my boys are done with you, you’ll be begging for them to take your name.”

Fear suddenly rose to his chest as the woman raised the horn to her lips. With a clumsy movement, Dee willed every drop of energy into one last attempt to get away. He pushed himself away from the woman, nearly slipping in the slick mud that had formed from the light gust of wind and rain throughout the day. Dee sucked in a heavy breath, making it only a few steps before the hollow sound filled his ears. The sound resonated through his body and he struck the ground face first, unconscious before he even hit the ground.

---

The sounds of drunken laughter filled Dee's ears as he groggily lifted his head. His body protested even the smallest movement as he pushed himself to his knees. He had no idea how long he'd been out, but he could feel that soreness had settled over his body as if he'd been laying in the same position for hours. He glanced up, barely able to make out the smallest sliver of the glowing crescent moon through the bars above his head. Apparently, they hadn't been very concerned about keeping him from freezing to death. His clothes were soaked through from the rain that had no doubt been pouring down on him from above while he'd been passed out in the cage they'd thrown him in. He allowed his gaze to drift around his hold. Thick, iron bars surrounded him on all sides. Even the floor was sealed off by the heavy metal bars, resting in the cheap wooden cart. Dee squinted into the dark, finally noticing the dense heavy fabric draped along the walls of the case. No doubt they were their to keep prying eyes off their precious cargo.

A sudden crack of loud laughter sent him jolting back against the bars of his cell. He shivered, adrenaline pumping through his body as he curled his knees to his chest. Dee closed his eyes, burying his head into his arms as they rested on his knees. His subtle shivering of fear quickly started to gave way to the violent shudders of the cold as he tried to ignore the cold, wet clothes clinging to his body.

No one's coming to save you.

The sudden thought was like a punch to his gut, sending waves of nausea straight to his stomach. He suddenly dry heaved, still able to hear the grating sounds of his captors’ laughter above his stomach's rebellious attempt to reject the situation in which he found himself.

Gods, you’re a failure. You can't even play the villain right.

Decades of work had been undone by the hunters’ pure luck of stumbling upon them. Dee sucked back a sob at the world’s cruelness. This war had already taken from him the only two people who’d actually cared for him. He hadn't thought he had anything else to lose. Tara was dead and Remy was too busy taking care of his corner of the world to give him the time of day anymore. All he'd had left in his miserable life was his mission to finally end this bloody war for good, but of course, he'd even screwed that up. He'd resigned himself to playing the villain. Bringing the kid to his death would have broken him, but at least the curse wouldn’t have been able to claim any more fae lives.

This war may never end and it's my fault.

The kid was gone, probably back to the castle to live out a long life with his dashing prince. At least, he could be grateful that the kid had gotten to escape. Inevitably, another fae would eventually find his secret, but the kid might have easily have bought himself a luxurious life for a few decades by losing Dee to these hunters.

Pathetic.

Dee stifled back another sob as wetness flowed down his face. A knot twisted in his stomach as shudders of grief racked his body. Years of tension and grief came rushing to the surface as his emotions threatened to overwhelm him.

---

He had no idea how long he'd sat there feeling sorry for himself. Eventually, he could hear the cacophony of loud voices die down as the subtle, flickering light from the hunters’ fire was extinguished, leaving him alone with himself in the pitch-black night. Numbness had long since settled over him as he leaned into the metal bars, ignoring the way his skin burned in contact with the pure iron bars. His mind had gone blank as he stared into the darkness, waiting for the sun to rise so that he may be carted off to whatever fate awaited him. Dee let out a long, defeated breath. At least he didn’t have to hide his face anymore. The humans may take everything else from him, but somehow the gift of not needing to hide his true self brought him a small amount of comfort as he sank into the darkness. His energy slowly drained away as his panic turned to dread. He knew he should rest, but sleep wouldn’t come. Instead, he stared at the back of the cart, watching as the fabric moved.

Wait.

Without blinking, Dee lifted his head, examining the moving curtain with caution. He bristled, tasting the air as the figure moved toward the entrance. His tension vanished as a familiar scent hit the back of his throat, bringing tears to his eyes.

“Tara?”

Almost as if on cue, the curtain pulled back to reveal Logan's dark figure silhouetted against the pitch-black night.

“I'm sorry.” The kid hesitantly backed away from the bars as he avoided Dee's gaze. “I'm not—”

“Logan.” Dee's voice dropped in disbelief as the kid nodded timidly. “You shouldn’t be here.”

“I wanted to help,” Logan whispered quietly. His shoulders slumped and he let out a long breath as he turned his attention to the lock on his cage. “though I apologize if I’m not who you expected.”

Dee's heart ached as the kid apologetically avoided eye contact with him. “Don't apologize, kid. Coming for me was far more than I deserved from you.”

The kid paused, glancing up from the lock. A sad smile twitched at the corner of his lips as he pulled his tools out of his pocket.

“Wait.” Dee whispered, silently moving toward the door. “I appreciate what you’re doing but one of those goons could come back. Just get out of here. I'll figure it out—”

“They won’t bother us.” Logan brushed him off, staring intently at the lock as he began to manipulate the pins.

Dee hesitated, staring at Logan’s quiet expression as he focused on picking the lock. “You seem pretty certain of that fact, kid.”

“I spiked their alcoholic beverages with valerian root.” Logan dropped his gaze as the lock clicked open. “Fortunately, their excessive consumption should put them out for several hours.”

“I—You shouldn't have taken that chance, kid.” Dee whispered, staring at him breathlessly. “You could have been killed.”

The kid took a step back, pulling the door open. His eyes dropped to the ground as he fidgeted with his sleeve. “I didn’t want you to suffer.”

“Logan, I—” Tears brimmed at the edge of Dee's vision as he slid to the door. “Thank y—”

His gratitude was cut short as a blood-curdling shriek was ripped from Logan's throat. Adrenaline shot straight to Dee's heart as the fabric fell over the entrance, blocking his view of the kid. Dee leapt to his feet, almost falling through the open door as he rushed out into the night.

Dee dropped to the ground off the cart, jerking his head around to see Logan struggling in the grip of the woman from earlier. The woman suddenly had an elbow closed tightly around his neck as she leered down at him menacingly.

“Well, beast. It looks like your help’s a bit more loyal than I gave him credit for,” The woman hissed holding the kid easily around his neck, squeezing just enough to keep him from struggling. “but I'm running this show and you are staying right where I want you.”

“Listen, just let him go.” Dee rasped desperately, holding up his bound hands in surrender. He held his breath as the kid started shaking in her grip, turning. “Please, you have me. You don't need the kid.”

“Oh, no. Your pet decided to poison my entire crew and he’s going pay for his indiscretions.” The woman hummed, leering down at Logan. Dee shivered as the woman’s threatening glare turn to him. “Now, get back in your cage, beast.”

“Not until you let him go.” Dee resisted, keeping his eyes trained on the kid as he stilled in her arms.

“I don't think so, pest." The woman dropped her hand to her waist, pulling the glistening horn from her waist.

Dee froze, staring in fear at the magic weapon as he held his bound hands up in surrender. “No, wait—”

“Get back—”

The woman's yell was suddenly cut off as the area in front of him lit up in a bright blue light. Dee flinched, covering his eyes as he squinted through the shining light at the woman holding Logan. He gasped as the woman's grip seemed to tense and tighten around Logan’s neck. He watched in horror as the kid twitched in pain, but as the light dimmed he watched as the magic weapon dropped from her limp hand. Dee hesitated only a moment before rushing forward. Swiftly, he brought his heel down on the fragile horn, shattering the weapon into pieces. With the magical weapon destroyed, he spun on the woman with bared teeth.

He hissed a threat, stalking toward her as she let her hand drop from Logan's throat. The kid instantly hit the ground, coughing and rasping, but Dee's eye remained trained on the woman’s horrified expression as she backed away from him.

“Stay back. Don't you dare come any clos—”

“Silence.” Dee hissed as he backed the woman into a tree. The metal of his shackles clanged between his wrists as he pressed the heavy chain against her throat. “Clear out before I end your miserable life.”

“You do better ro kill me,” The woman growled rebelliously as he shoved her away. “Otherwise, I'll be back to get you and your little p—”

“Don’t tempt me.” Dee shot scathingly as he threateningly took a few steps toward her. “Now scram, before you make me angry.”

His heated gaze lingered on the woman as she scrambled away, taking off down the road. He continued to stare until she disappeared into the darkness before turning to the sound of coughing behind him.

“Logan—” Dee turned on his heels and rushed to the man curled on the ground beneath him. He dropped to his knees as he helped Logan curl upright. “Are you okay?”

“It hurts.” Logan heaved for breath, clutching his throat.

“I'm going to fix that for you, kid,” Dee reassured him, leaning forward to help him to his feet as best he could. “but first, we need to get you out of here.”

The shackles binding his hands made the process slow but eventually Dee managed to get Logan’s hand around his shoulder, dragging him from the horrific mess behind them. Dee could feel Logan’s raspy breath on his shoulder, knowing the man wouldn’t make it far without a chance to catch his breath. Fortunately, by some gift of fate, Dee instantly recognized where they were in the woods and shelter was gratefully within a reasonable short distance. He glanced up as a small cave came into view. The familiar opening darkened as he slowly dragged Logan across its threshold towards the rocky walls.

“Easy, now.” Dee whispered in the kid's ear as he gently lowered him to the ground. He rested Logan against the wall, chest aching at the sound of the guy's wheezy, uneven breaths. He raised a hand to Logan's face trying to connect with the kid's unfocused eyes. “Logan, can you hear me?”

The kid’s eyes fluttered wearily, but he managed to nod his affirmation.

“I need you to be patient, kid.” Dee whispered. His voice was soft and kind as he held his wrists out to Logan. “I’m going to ease your pain, but in order to do that I need you to get these off for me. Can you do that?”

Logan winced as he swallowed, looking up at Dee. His eyes glistened with pain in the dim light of the moon, but he grunted an acknowledgement. Dee watched sadly as the kid shivered, leaning forward as he reached for his tools. His muscles were tense as he slipped the anchor into the lock. A pit of guilt settled in his stomach at the sight of Logan squinting his eyes as he struggled to focus.

“Take your time. It's—” Dee's mouth dropped open as the first cuff popped open, falling free of his wrist. “Gods, kid. You’re awfully good at that.”

“—a simple lock.” Logan mumbled, turning to Dee's other wrist. His chest seemed to seize as he leaned over, hacking painfully.

“Relax, Logan. Don't speak yet.” Dee whispered, holding a hand out to help steady his shoulder. “You’re nearly there.””

Logan grimaced. He nodded, swallowing painfully as he moved forward. The process was slower on the second lock. Dee could see the kid struggle to keep his hands steady as he squinted through the dark. He smiled reassuringly, waiting patiently until the lock clicked, falling away.

“Good job, kid.” Dee whispered, reaching forward to lean Logan back into the wall. He quickly squeezed the kid's shoulder in reassurance as he pulled his bag off his shoulder. Digging through its contents, he found a dense blanket and shook it out. Quickly, he draped the blanket over the shivering man and scrambled to his feet.

Within a few minutes, he’d found a stash of dry wood hidden deeper in the cave and had built a small fire. The raging flames crackled and sparked radiating heat from the center of the cave. He glanced up to see Logan staring at him from where he leaned against the wall. Dee stood up, smiling gently as he noticed kid had stopped shivered and was now silently watching him move around the fire.

“Are you ready to feel better, Logan?”

Dee smiled as the man’s eyes followed him cautiously. Hesitantly, he eventually nodded, watching closely as Dee dropped down next to him. Dee wrapped an arm around the back of Logan’s shoulder, guiding the kid's head onto his chest. He felt a pang of sadness as the kid tensed in his arms.

“You’re safe, Logan.” Dee whispered. His voice trembled with regret as he looked down at the man resting nervously on his chest. “You have my word that I won't hurt you.”

Logan nodded stiffly, glancing up at him. There was still a nervousness in his eyes but he settled back into Dee’s chest.

Dee took a long breath, feeling his eyes begin to glow as he called upon his magic. He exhaled slowly, watching as his palms started to glow with an amber light. His hands traced down Logan's neck, healing the crushing damage done by the woman’s grip.

He smiled as Logan let out a relieved sigh, sinking into his chest as the aching pain in his throat suddenly eased. Dee's focus narrowed as the tips of his fingers drifted along Logan’s neck. The bruises that had already started to form began lighten as Dee’s healing hands brushed his skin. The process was slow and tedious, but he could feel the subtle changes as the kid's body repaired itself, encouraged by the pressure of his magic. The pain and distrust in the air started to fade as the kid started to ease into his shoulder. Waves of emotion swelled in his chest as the firelight flickered on Logan's face. He managed to contain the emotions raging in his mind for a few short minutes before a peaceful gratitude started to radiate from the kid, sending tears rolling down his face.

“Kid, I don't know what possessed you to save me.” Dee's voice trembled with shame as his hand stopped glowing and dropped from Logan’s neck. “Given my treatment toward you, I could hardly have blamed you if you'd turned me over to them yourself, but—” Dee hesitated as Logan leaned up off his chest to turned to him. He closed his eyes shamefully, unable to meet Logan's gaze as he mumbled his apology. “—but I'm grateful for what you did, even if I didn't deserve it."

Logan’s silence hung heavy over Dee as he sat with his head bowed and eyes clenched tightly shut as regret coursed through his body.

“I'm sorry. I know there’s no excuse for what I've—”

“Stop.” Logan whispered hoarsely, stopping Dee's half formed apology in its tracks. “I felt how scared you were, Dee. No one deserves to feel that way.”

“You could have been killed—” Dee rasped, finally pulling his gaze up to meet Logan’s. “—or you could have shared my fate.”

“It turned out fine.” Logan shrugged him off, raising a hand to his throat. “I wasn't about to abandon you fend for yourself with that witch.”

Dee stared helplessly at Logan as he curled his knees to his chest, looking despondent. His voice dropped to a whisper as Logan seemed to withdraw away from him. “Logan, I owe you my life.”

“You don’t owe me anything,” Logan’s response came a moment too quick and Dee frowned as the kid looked to the ground, avoiding eye contact. “but, um, if you do feel the need to make our efforts even, I would still appreciate the chance to stop in a market on our way."

Dee bit his lip as his shoulder slumped, gesturing to the cave around them. “There are no more towns where we’re going, Logan. Down this cave is the entrance to the Other Realm. From here on, we'll only meet fae.”

“Oh.” Logan's eyes widened as a sudden sadness swept over his face and Dee felt his heart drop at the quiet, crestfallen look on Logan’s face.

“Why does it matter so much to you, kid?” Dee whispered as he watched Logan fold his arms into his chest.

Logan glanced down at his lap. Dee could see him biting his lip, trying to contain his emotions. “I wanted paper and ink.”

“For what?”

“I'd hoped—” Logan muttered, running his fingers through his hair. “—I'd hoped to convince you to deliver some letters.”

“Letters?” Dee's mouth dropped in shock as the kid curled into himself.

“I know I'm not coming back from this.” Logan's hand tugged at the end of his hair. “I know what you want from me. I just—”

“Kid—” Dee protested weakly. His heart shattered as tears flowed openly down his face.

Logan’s voice cracked painfully as a sob was pulled from his throat. “I just wanted to say good-bye to them.”

Dee rushed forward, closing his arms around Logan’s shoulders. He pulled Logan’s head to his chest as another cry escaped from the kid's lips. The kid shook violently in his arms as he held him tightly. Wet streaks flowed freely down Dee's face as the kid cried himself out on his chest, eventually coming to rest as he breathed heavily in Dee's arms.

“I don't want to die.” Logan pleaded quietly.

The kid's soft whisper shattered his resistance and Dee smiled weakly as the wet streaks on his face glistened in the firelight. “You’re not going to die, Logan.”

“But—”

“No. I’m not playing the court's game anymore.” Dee spat, his chest aching as he held Logan close to his chest. “You’re not going. I won’t take you.”

Logan sucked in a heavy breath. “But the hunters—If I don’t—”

“We'll figure it out together. I promise we'll find a way to save everyone else,” Dee whispered, breathing heavily. “but you’re going to make it home. I'll make sure of it.”

Logan stilled in his arms as his sobs subsided. His breathing hitched in his throat as he turned up to Dee with red eyes. “Dee—”

“You—you can call me Janus.” Janus let out a long breath, wiping away his tears as Logan looked up at him with a confused expression. “Dee or Deceit—It's a name I use to keep myself safe, but you can call me Janus if you like.”

“Janus,” Logan whispered with a small smile as he leaned into Janus’ shoulder. “Thank you.”

Janus' lips twitched into a smile as he nodded. He leaned into Logan as he held him tightly. Gradually, they finally started to ease their grip, breathing easier as the drifted to sleep in the heat of the fire.

---

General Taglist:

@somehow-i-got-an-account @justanotherhumanstuff @im-an-anxious-wreck

You Belong With Me Taglist:

@cas-is-a-hunter @insert-cool-blogname @ironwoman359 @i-know-im-smart @croftersphoenix @optimistic-violinist @croftersjam15 @actitus-hypoleucos @unbefuckinglieveable @justthatamount @eeveeeclair246 @taxicabinmemphis @theoddkidnextdoor @bluerosesbleedred @bowties--cool @lookingforaplacetosleep @xxpanic-at-the-everywherexx @007ardra @im-actually-ok @grayson-22 @lunatatic @hope340 @itawalrus @dwbh888

#sanders sides fic #sanders sides #sanders sides fanfiction #sanders sides fanfic #ts #ts logan #ts janus #You Belong With Me #villain writes

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translations-by-aiimee · 3 years ago

Text

Dig a Grave to Dig Out a Ghost - Chapter 28

Original Title: 挖坟挖出鬼

Genres: Drama, Horror, Mystery, Supernatural, Yaoi

This translation is based on multiple MTLs and my own limited knowledge of Chinese characters. If I have made any egregious mistakes, please let me know.

Chapter Index

Chapter 28 - Immortal

In some remote mountainous areas in the south, Miao women used clay pots and menstrual blood to raise hundreds of insects. They sealed them, placed them in a damp place and cast curses on them. Once the day was done, the poisonous insects will have killed each other and the last one was embodied with Gu poison*. The curse made with Gu poison could make someone's love interest fall helplessly in love with them for the rest of his life, and it could also plague one's enemy with nightmares, madness, and even death. The women who concocted Gu poison were typically loners, often muttering to no one, avoided by the general public.

*(T/N: 蛊 - Gu poison was believed to be the combination of all the venoms from the insects that died and would be used for black magic in southern regions of China)

In Nanyang Black Magic, they would use the body of a baby that died recently, boiled out the toyol*, poured it on a puppet doused in human blood and placed it in the home. The imprisoned baby ghost would protect the house but the curse-caster will be punished. They would also carve birthdates into wood, causing the other to die.

*(T/N: 尸油 - literally 'corpse oil.' I'll spare you the graphic details but basically taking a dead body's chin and boiling it until oil drains out of it)

This black magic flourished in the Ming Dynasty. The Eastern Depot eunuchs* were in turmoil. Everyone was reporting each other, no one would speak to each other, eyes darting between each other daily. These curses were developed as a branch of Daoism to oppose political rivals. A-Yan said that the Daoist practices used to drive out ghosts and save people were declining, but this black magic has stuck around. It was one of the biggest spots in Daoist history.

*(T/N: 东厂 - a secret police & spy agency run by eunuchs meant to suppress political opposition towards the emperor)

Saturday morning was a beautiful day. The sun was shining but not to the point of being unbearably hot. The distant mountains stood silently under the blue sky. A black Audi passed quickly through the country’s tree-lined roads, raising a cloud of grit and dust. A white goose with its head held high on the roadside was startled by the car, flapping its wings and stretching its neck to hide behind a fence.

The car stopped at a small farmhouse in the northwest corner of the village.

In the courtyard, a tall Shuzi tree stretched out dense branches, looking extraordinarily vibrant. In contrast, the entire courtyard was strangely decrepit. A well was covered by a millstone and the stone-paced path was full of weeds. The doors of the three mud-brick houses were closed, with straw curtains covering the doors and windows covered with dust.

Everything was very different from a month ago. Lin Yan remembered that the last time he came here, there were hens and rabbits. The old lady in blue embroidered clothing was kneeling on the futon with her eyes closed. The small courtyard was filled with the mysterious atmosphere of the countryside. The current yard would give people the impression that the homeowner hadn't been home for years when, in fact, a fresh grave in the back of the mountain had only been built a month ago. Rural people were convinced that the houses inhabited by the living were blessed by the gods and sheltered from the elements for decades. Once the owner of the house dies, the gods will follow, so the empty house often collapsed and was destroyed in less than six months.

"When Second Immortal Gu was in the village, she would help children that fell sick with fever, and the adults that were dealing with evil spirits. Young men would ask her when they'd get married and, for the right price, she'd tell them." The village chief said with a cigarette in his mouth.

The village leader knew Yin Zhou’s mother well. He heard that Yin Zhou wanted to bring someone to pay tribute to Second Immortal Gu and waited at the entrance of the village to welcome them. It took ten minutes to drive from the village leader's house to Second Immortal Gu’s house. The village head smoked four cigarettes in a row. Yin Zhou squeezed his eyes shut while Lin Yan and the little Daoist priest twisted their heads out of the window every 30 seconds to gasp for a breath of fresh air. The village chief was the only one of them chatting in the smoky car. Lin Yan saw how the complaints of three people and a ghost just flew over his head.

If a ghost could complain.

Lin Yan found a roll of incense from the little Daoist's bag and lit it. He put the incense burner at the door of the mud-brick house and offered his respects.

"Last time, we left just before Second Immortal Gu had her accident. I should have come to offer some incense sooner, it's just things with school got busy and I haven't been able to make it until now." Lin Yan brushed the straw curtain and the accumulated dust fell on his face. "Cough, cough. Does - Does anyone take care of this place?"

"Of course not. You big city kids wouldn't know. Doing this line of work is only good for putting food on the table. Immortal Gu came out here in her twenties. In less than ten years, her husband and two sons had died and she was the only one left. She couldn't even save herself." The village leader stuffed his yellow striped shirt into his pants. "Don't feel bad. No immortal in this village could escape that fate."

"Come on, let's go, you guys are here to see her grave. We don't put up any gravestones here. We just build a stone platform, but the villagers will remember who it's for. I'll take you up there."

The sun was growing hotter. Several of them used broken branches to smack the grass in case of snakes while they hiked up the rugged mountain trail. A rural cemetery wasn't as neat as an urban cemetery. Each family claimed a spot, with every newly deceased buried next to the rest of their family. The grave was a prominent mound of dirt with a large stone on top. Some of the graves were too old to even make out the mound, the ground studded with small light blue flowers. A date palm tree grew wildly, and they needed to watch their step when walking so they wouldn't disturb the resting dead.

Second Immortal Gu's grave was off on its own. The mound was freshly dug. Other than a crooked wreath lying on it, it was indistinguishable from the older graves that had been abandoned for years.

The scene made Lin Yan feel incredibly guilty. He burned a large stack of paper dollars in front of the grave, playing with his branch while saying silently in his mind: Auntie, if you're still here, please come back and tell us who harmed you. We'll avenge your death.

The village chief took the cigarettes Lin Yan had bought him and squatted off in the distance to smoke. Lin Yan winked at the little Daoist priest and said softly, "Let's start?"

A-Yan nodded and took out a crumpled photo from his pocket that he had found in a frame in Immortal Gu's house. The immortal in the photo was still very young, wearing a floral cotton jacket and staring vacantly ahead.

"Now isn't a good time. The s-sun is too high. The mountains are filled with Yang energy, and the ghosts may not be able to be reached." A-Yan said. He jumped up and grabbed a twig from the date tree above his head. He hung a spirit summoning flag on it and patted the dust off his shoulders. "Here's a picture, here are the bones. Um, Lin Yan, I'm going to borrow your birthdate for this."

Before Lin Yan had time to ask, the little Daoist priest handed him a dagger. Unlike his usual mahogany sword, this one was actually made of metal. The handle seemed to be a few years old, and the tip of the blade gleaming a bright white in the sunlight.

"H-Hold this for a minute. You might feel a little uncomfortable, but don't let it go." A-Yan instructed: "I-I'll read one sentence and you read the next."

Yin Zhou chuckled but he felt that it probably wasn't the time to laugh so he quickly turned his laughter into a string of coughs.

Surprisingly, A-Yan never stuttered whenever he talked about Taoism and charms, Lin Yan muttered.

Time passed by and it was almost noon. The date trees in the mountains couldn't block the hot sun. After standing there for a long time, most of them were covered in a layer of sweat. The village leader couldn't bear the heat and left to join some nearby people to drink some tea. Lin Yan stood in front of the grave with the dagger in his hand. He rubbed the sweat on his cheeks off with his shoulder, hoping that this time it would be over quickly.

The little Daoist started reciting. His voice didn't sound like proper speech, but the slow rate of speech wasn't too difficult to follow. Lin Yan held the hilt of the dagger and along with the chant. Not even halfway through the incantation, Lin Yan already began to feel that something was wrong. The temperature around him began to drop, and the hot sweat condensed on his back. He kept shivering like he was suffering from heatstroke. A chill came from the handle of the dagger. First, the temperature seeped into his palm, and then his whole arm, up to his shoulders, through the bones in his spine to the back of his head in a numb wave. It was as if he wasn't holding a dagger but a frozen fish that had been left in the bottom tray of the freezer for a year.

The spirit summoning flag above his head began to move.

"It's cold." Lin Yan took a breath and scanned the silent mountains around him. "Have you reached the soul?"

"I t-think I found her." The little Daoist hesitated. "Huh. . . that's weird. . ."

After reciting two more incantations, the bone-chilling cold air had spread to his calves. Lin Yan's teeth chattered and he shivered out: "A-. . . A-Yan, are you sure this is okay. . . it's too. . . cold. . ."

The chanting continued, the little Daoist priest shot him a sideways glance, his eyes cold. Lin Yan can only brace himself to keep follow the mantra incantations, a heavy cold sweat forming on his forehead.

"Hold on for a little longer. The soul is bound to something, I want to break it free." A-Yan gritted his teeth, and a piece of talisman paper was slapped against the blade. All of a sudden, the cold washed over him like a tsunami. Lin Yan's whole body felt like it was being stabbed by needles, veins popping on his forehead from the pain.

"A-Yan, what are you doing?!" Yin Zhou knew something wasn't right when he saw Lin Yan's lips turn blue. "If you can't do it now, someone's going to get hurt. Lin Yan, use the ghost that's following you!"

"Almost there. Don't let go!" The little Daoist was flushed a sickly pale colour and he rapidly chanted the mantra. The spirit summoning flag above his head was being whipped by the wind. There was a ripping sound and the whole piece of cloth was torn in half and fluttered down onto the old grave in the distance.

"I-It's okay. . . A-Yan, go faster. . ." Lin Yan was so cold that he could barely get his tongue to work. He tried to move the hand with the dagger to it but he found that his skin was stuck to the metal and he couldn't budge it. He was shivering from his arms all the way down to his legs. Lin Yan staggered back and stepped on the bag they'd brought, almost falling backwards.

A force of strength supported his back. Xiao Yu's voice sounded right when he needed him, but his low voice didn't let him retort: "Let go."

Xiao Yu's hand covered the back of Lin Yan's hand. Compared to the temperature of the dagger, his palm was actually warm. It was just right to block the cold air that kept pouring into Lin Yan's arm. A-Yan's expression changed in an instant and he shouted loudly: "Back off, beast!"

"I'll fucking finish this. . ." Lin Yan abruptly closed his eyes and pressed his palm to the blade. All at once, the bone-chilling cold air felt like ten thousand needles running through his palm up to his arm. At the same time, there was a cold that grew behind him. He quickly opened his eyes but Second Immortal Gu hadn't appeared. On the contrary, Xiao Yu snapped Lin Yan's wrist with completely overwhelming strength, forcing the sharp weapon out of his hand.

The moment the dagger was taken out of Lin Yan's hand, he felt like he was immediately torn out of an ice block and thrown into a fire. The ritual was broken, the hot sunlight licked his back, making his whole body numbly feel like it was going to dissolve. However, he couldn't care less about his body's reaction. What happened next made Lin Yan and Yin Zhou - who was freaking out off to the side - shocked. They saw Xiao Yu holding the dagger inching towards A-Yan, frigid eyes filled with killing intent. When the palm of his hand touched the hilt of the knife, it sounded like searing flesh. But he didn't care. He grabbed A-Yan's collar with one hand, and violently plunged the dagger toward his left eye with the other!

Lin Yan's mind kicked into action. He subconsciously rushed over to hold Xiao Yu's waist, using all his strength to drag him back. However, something was wrong with the little Daoist priest, too. His usual cowardice was gone and his eyes burned with rage. He rolled away and broke free, rapidly taking out a handful of cinnabar and tossing it towards Xiao Yu. His voice changed because of the trembling: "An evil beast is an evil beast. You can't stay!"

"What the fuck is going on!" Yin Zhou couldn't see Xiao Yu. He could only see the little Daoist tumbling on the ground alone trying to avoid a shimmering dagger. Lin Yan's nerves were fried. While dragging Xiao Yu back, he roared towards Yin Zhou: "How the hell should I know? You grab A-Yan!"

He had never seen Xiao Yu so angry. The midday sun was burning and blinding. The ghost's whole body was emitting a faint greenish-black aura. The knuckles of both hands snapped open, sharp claw-like nails grabbing the back of the Daoist priest's head. Lin Yan thought he was seeing things and closed his eyes, but the scene stayed the same. The place where the ghost stood glowed a greenish-black and the place where the human stood was a dancing orange fire, intertwining with each other, but the orangish-yellow flames were gradually dying out. . .

Later, he would learn that people have yang energy and ghosts have yin energy. When the energy was extremely concentrated, he could directly perceive the yin and yang without his eyes confusing it in his mind. This was the foundation of excellent Taoism. He had inadvertently opened a long-closed door to the mystical arts.

However, the current situation was extremely dangerous. Xiao Yu held A-Yan’s neck with one hand and the dagger cut inch by inch into the little Daoist priest's arm blocking it. The hand holding the knife was searing black from the contact with the blade of the evil spirit's. A Yan's face grew purple, his eyes bulging. Lin Yan didn't dare to hesitate for a moment and scrambled over to protect A-Yan from behind. There was a clanging sound and the dagger rolled to the ground.

The little Daoist broke free from the evil spirit's hands, clutching his bleeding wound and groaning intermittently: "Lin Yan. . . Immortal Gu. . . Immortal Gu's spirit is trapped. . . I couldn't get her. . ."

Lin Yan supported the little Daoist's shoulders. His eyes gleamed, and the soft deer-like eyes were different from those when he had when he cast the spell. "The curse. . . Be careful." A-Yan whispered. Lin Yan hadn't gotten the chance to ask what was going on before his thin body couldn't support his own weight. His eyes rolled back and he fainted.

Lin Yan and Yin Zhou looked at each other, shocked by the outcome, unable to utter a word.

#dig a grave to dig out a ghost #dig a grave to dig out a ghost translation #english translation #chinese bl #chinese novel #danmei novel #danmei #yaoi novel #yaoi #bl novel

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artificialqueens · 4 years ago

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And Everyday: When Life Gives You Lemons, Put Some Vodka in Your Lemonade (Crystal Methyd/Gigi Goode, Jaida Essence Hall/Jan Sport) - Campvanjie

AN: This was originally written for a fic exchange, and posted to AO3 under my now deleted account there on May 1st, 2020. Reposting here, because I’m proud of it, and am clearing old S12 fics from my Google drive. I’m the original author of this work, and there’s absolutely no plagiarism going on!

Summary: Gigi needs a soft place to land after her quarter-life meltdown, and Crystal realizes the happily every after she gave up on, might not be totally out of reach. Meanwhile, Jaida and Jan work on restoring an old barnhouse; because marriage begets home improvement.Prompts: Parenthood AU, Enemies to Lovers, Idiots in Love, and Angst all used to varying degrees.

CW: conversations around divorce/child custody and (past) bullying behavior, character mentions (non-specific) mental health issues as the reason for a past breakup.

“- Ugh, anyway, it’s like 3:30, he’s almost an hour late and I don’t know why the fuck I even got all dressed up just to sit at court being looked at like I’m some cheap bitch-”, Gigi grumbled into her phone. It was pressed against her cheek as she tried her best to juggle her purse and a extra-large coffee held in her other hand, her livid glare captured perfectly in the harsh, white light of the bathroom mirror across from her.

“I dunno, maybe because you have to be there? Kind of the mom thing to do.”, Crystal told her, static edging into her voice.

It was a long-distance call after all, and Gigi had fought against her fingers dialing the number almost by muscle memory. She had only relented once she had gotten through the packed hallway of the courts complex, and almost collapsed into what seemed like the only empty bathroom.

Call Crystal, had been the only thing she could think of do, in between beating her palms against the cool, brick walls, and shaking with sobs she refused to shed for fear of ruining her makeup.

Without missing a beat; Crystal had picked up, her voice always high and slowed, syllables enunciated in a way that had trained Gigi into asking for coffee, like it was spelled with a K, calling her son’s name, with the E in the middle a sharp, upward spike.

Crystal, Gigi realized with a start; was who had taught her to gulp in her breaths to hide herself crying, and shove her fist into her front pocket, to keep herself from shaking so much.

“I know. I know you’re right. I just- God, I’m so sick of it. It just want this all to be over so I can go back to what’s important, and stop feeling like my entire world is crashing down around me."

Crystal laughed, a little too dry for it to be genuine. "Hey, Gigi?"

"Hm?"

"If you- if you wanted, maybe you and the little munchkin could visit? Come see me in Missouri, maybe it’ll get your mind off things."

Gigi’s hands stopped underneath the stream of lukewarm water flowing from the faucet, her eyes meeting her reflection in the mirror. She looked like shit, no matter how much her carefully applied façade remained in place, her gaze jittered around the small room and she had never felt so truly tired in her entire life.

"Seriously?"

"Yeah. I mean, me of all people should know something about everything falling apart."

Less than an hour later, Gigi found herself dialing Crystal’s number again. She stood outside the courthouse, her glasses misted from the early- evening rain shower as she waited for her car.

Relinquished. She didn’t know whether to laugh, or cry, or take her parents up on their offer to live in their Florida timeshare and disappear off the face of the planet, too.

"He’s not coming because he filed paperwork to relinquish parental rights two weeks ago. In the eyes of the law, it’s just the two of you.”, her lawyer had told her, after finding Gigi just outside the bathroom. Jackie Cox was always dressed in tweed, pastel, pantsuits, dark hair coiffed in buttery smooth curls at the top of her head, her lips pursed in a thin, straight line, as though she was perpetually exhausted.

Gigi supposed that, being one of the city’s longest-serving family court attorneys would do that to you.

“I don’t know how I missed it on the dockets, but I should have told you first.”, Jackie apologized; her hand warm and steady at the small of Gigi’s back as she walked her client back up the hallway.

Gigi grunted, shrugging her shoulders underneath her jacket. “It’s fin- It wouldn’t have changed anything, Jackie. Really, thanks for everything."

She let herself lean against Jackie, letting one of her oldest friends wrap her arms around her, breathing in the scent of Jackie’s honeysuckle perfume on the courthouse steps.

"I’m sorry this happened-”, Jackie started, and Gigi could feel her heart sink to her stomach.

She had never done well with pity, least of all when she truly deserved it.

“Don’t be. Please, just don’t.”

“What are you going to do now?”, Jackie asked, as Gigi stepped out of her embrace, surveying the street before them that was quickly filling with cars and bikes and buses as the work day finished and school let out for the day.

“Right now? Get in an Uber and hope they don’t charge me triple for being late at daycare again.”

Crystal picked up on the fourth ring, and Gigi could hear the sound of a sink running in the background. Water splashed against metal, and the distinct sound of another woman’s voice, screeching with laughter, buzzed through the speakers of Gigi’s phone.

“Whoo- chile, I’m telling you if you come any closer with that flour, I’m gonna-"

"Shit. Sorry.”, Crystal had muffled the phone against her chest, the static only cutting out when Gigi was sure she had ducked into another room.

“How quickly can you get that guest room set up? I’m pretty sure we can make it for tomorrow if I drive through the night.”

“Mom- Mom it’s twelve-thirty-five. It’s way, way, way past your bedtime!”, Destiny crowed from his carseat, kicking at Gigi’s back. His blonde curls were plastered to the side of his face, lips dusted with salt from the bag of chips that Gigi had let him pick out form himself at their last rest stop.

Their entire lives had fit neatly into the sickeningly suburban five-seater that his father had insisted on, the largest luggage case filled with her son’s clothes and bedsheets still having enough room to jostle under his bare feet.

She knew it was impulsive, and stupid, and half-expected the police to pull them over several states away, but as the highways emptied to nothing bur a ribbon of white lines that kept them on the right side of the road, Gigi became more and more convinced she was doing the right thing.

“My bedtime is five-thirty, kiddo. Yours is eight, so you get to stay up so much later.”, she joked easily, never having had Destiny for so many hours, all by herself in the years since he had started preschool.

“Wait, that doesn’t make sense! It’s eight at night and right now it’s morning! Nobody goes to sleep at five in the morning!”, he shrieked, and giggled at his own reflection in the rearview mirror.

“That’s when the garbage truck wakes up!”, he added. Gigi didn’t remember, if he had ever talked so much, his voice jarring and so different from the toddler babbles she had recorded, and kept on her phone to watch on her worst days.

Her textile studio had taken up her days, until her partners had grown tired of Gigi stumbling in at eleven in the morning, unable to force herself to care very much about their bottom line, and the grey, dull world outside until Destiny had come to kick her out of bed.

Afterwards, his father would take her nights, the pressure incessant that they be exactly what they looked like- a family that belonged in a catalog, with a perfectly dressed, perfectly quiet child, money to burn and success in spades; drinking from matching flutes of champagne while Destiny was left alone in his basement bedroom with a baby monitor and his collection of stuffed animals.

Gigi faltered in a sea of plastic smiles and shallow conversations, and at the end of the day, all of her friends who had warned her off marrying her senior-year rebound, giving her life over to the promise of a bright, empty future, had been right.

He wanted to live in a dream, where she was only ever a sidekick; their son nothing more to him than a prop to parade, an filled-in item on a checklist that he had given up without a second thought.

Gigi had named him Destiny, because she liked it first, but second, because it had sounded so good with his last name; that she had never even considered having to change it.

Destiny Goode was a name that sounded like a motivational quote from a caveman, and she briefly wondered, merging on to the next interstate her GPS system highlighted- if a six-year-old would remember his name if she changed it right now.

He could be a Garret, or a Jaden, just like every other boy at school.

A fresh slate with no more questions to be asked, and nothing left to tie her perfect boy to Gigi’s worst mistake.

“-So, she’ll be here at nine-thirty, and we’re all going to be nice as fuck and not make it weird, okay?"

Crystal smoothed down the pleats of her skirt with her palms, her legs crossed in front of her at the breakfast table, as her eyes flitted between Jaida and Jan, who both had forks in hand as they enjoyed the chilaquilles that Crystal had set out for their meal, knowing this was going to be a big conversation.

"Chile-”

“Okay, go back to the part where she broke up with you and then ended up married to darksided Warner-"

"Guys!”, Crystal protested, glaring down at her friends.

Jaida and Jan had bought the barn on her family’s property not even weeks after Crystal had agreed to put it on the market, the decrepit, white-washed wood tower an eyesore along the country highway.

They were the closest thing she had to neighbors, in the wide acres of rolling plains that separated everyone by miles along the road, and it hadn’t taken long for the three of them to grow close.

Together, they had carved a guest house out of the front entryway, laying water pipes and television cable; and were working on renovations to turn the barn’s hall into an event space, with glass lanterns hanging high along the rafters that Crystal remembered walking across like a tightrope when she was a child.

Jan drilled in heavy wood planks to form a catwalk that overlooked the barn floor, which you could reach from the outside fire escape, and Crystal had been thrilled to finally put her years of following behind her father to use, toolbox in hand as she sanded down the reinforced beams holding up the roof.

If Gigi hadn’t called her, Crystal and Jan had a day ahead of them of hauling the shingles from a pallet left by the side of the road, in Crystal’s truck up to the barn, while Jaida had her camera, and a full calendar of Senior Portraits to finish before the end of the school year.

“I know it sounds like a lot, but please, please, don’t make it weird. Gigi always…- She always needed everything to go perfectly, and I hate to say it but… I might be her only real friend. Like, ever.”, Crystal told them, biting down on the inside of her cheek.

Gigi, who for the past few years, had been nothing but a collection of memories that would fire in her brain occasionally, like a slight twinge from an old injury, would be back in the flesh at her doorstep, at any minute. Crystal barely had the time to recruit Jaida’s help in clearing out her guest rooms for Gigi and her son, much less process how she truly felt about offering up her home as their refuge.

Gigi had never responded to the birthday cards she sent for Destiny after his third birthday; barely ever logging into her Facebook page that had been filled with photos of the two of them through college; and seemed to abruptly be cut off after she had gotten married. Occasionally, something would trickle through, a vacation photo of her little family, and anniversary note, a first day at school and a post that asked everyone to go and follow her business page.

For all of the refreshing Crystal did, Gigi’s studio seemed to never upload anything beyond its logo and business hours.

“Nah, listen, I get it, babe.”, said Jaida, a tortilla chip hanging from the corner of her mouth. “People grow and change and we gotta meet them where they’re at."

She nodded towards Jan, who was gulping down her orange juice, with a fond grin. "If you would have told my queen bitch ass when I was in high school, that I would end up married to Miss Team Too Much, I would have stole your man and told the whole school some dirty secret.”, Jaida laughed. “Everybody’s dealing with something, and I was so closeted and angry I was acting a fool for free."

"You were never closeted.”, Jan piped up, her voice rising an octave from normal, making Crystal widen her eyes as she looked to her side.

“Glass closet, honey. Besides, my point is, it’s water under a bridge, whatever we do when we’re young. I love you now.”, she said, pressing a kiss to Jan’s temple as she rose to go take their dishes to the sink. “You ended up turning out to be an amazing woman. I’m sure Gigi’s just the same."

The sun was high over the horizon line when Gigi’s car rumbled up the range road, rocks spraying into the grass as her wheels skipped over the pockmarked dirt.

She had taken Destiny to a hotel waterpark with a free breakfast, the absolute joy and shock on his face more than worth being several hours off of the arrival time she had texted Crystal. He was asleep now, only dressed in a pair of shorts and his sneakers, the buckles of his carseat starting to chafe red against his skin.

Gigi turned left at the barn, towards the yellow-shuttered house she remembered visiting over so many spring breaks and reading weeks, surprised to see two workers, stacking pallets of shingles by the barn door. One was a gorgeous, darker-skinned woman, the sun glittering from the highlights in her hair as she waved over to Gigi, making her grin despite herself.

Crystal’s tiny town had always been welcoming, the huge open expanses of space seeming to make everyone all the more willing to seek a connection- though Gigi would have never guessed that Crystal and her family would ever do anything with the barn, which looked just a little less decrepit than she remembered, so many years later.

She parked by the balcony, just in front of Crystal’s truck, and shook Destiny awake, helping him into the first shirt which she could reach from his bag.

"C'mon, Des. We’re here. Are you excited to say hi to Mom’s friend? She stayed up all night to make you new room!”, she asked, watching as he took in the word around them.

“You have friends?”, he blurted out, so plainly that Gigi couldn’t keep a smile off her face, even if he had probably heard that from a TV show she probably shouldn’t have been letting him see.

“That’s not very nice."

Still, she kissed the top of his head, and helped him out of the car, his tiny hand feeling heavy in hers as they made their way up the stairs to Crystal’s door.

The balcony creaked under their feet, as Gigi raised her hand to press against the doorbell, Destiny tugging against her shirt, pointing up at the colorful strips of cut paper that still adorned the windows, the sun cutting what must have been a stained-glass glow inside the house.

"Snowflakes, like at school!”, he called to her, pressing his face against the windowsill before Gigi pulled him back.

“No, it’s called papel picado.”, Gigi corrected, remembering how Crystal had spent hours at her paper press in the basement of the art rooms in college, a mess of stencils spread across the desk, a chisel and mallet in hand as she studied the pictures her grandmother would send her.

Crystal’s tongue would poke out of her mouth, her pupils blown wide in concentration, oblivious to the darkening sky above her until Gigi would find her, at half-past midnight, standing still wide awake in the middle of confetti slices of cut paper piling around her.

They would kiss, exhilarated and young and alone together, and Gigi would never think anything was wrong until-

“Gigi! Geegs! Look who’s late to their own party!”, Crystal squealed, the door swinging wide open to reveal her; red-brown hair still as wild as ever, piled into a messy ponytail atop her head, and a smile so wide Gigi could see nearly all her teeth. Crystal sparkled with the same craft glitter that had always hung from her fingertips, her cheeks flush as though she’d run from one end of the house to the other.

Her eyes looked bright again, the memory of which was so foreign to Gigi that she took a moment to take it all in, Crystal’s bright skirt and her tight, sleeveless top looking all the more like relics of the summers they had spent together.

“Ahoy.”, she greeted, raising a hand to her forehead in a mock salute.

Crystal giggled.

Giggled, like she always had, and waved them inside with a flourish of her hand.

“Are you mad at me?”, Jaida asked, kicking open the toolbox that she and Jan shared.

They had watched Crystal let the storied Gigi into the house, and decided to occupy themselves with bolting down the side light fixtures in the barn, until whatever was probably going on between their neighbor and ex calmed down enough for Crystal to invite them in.

But, Jan’s temper had grown increasingly short through their day, her drill now clenched in a white-knuckled grip as Jaida held the ladder she was on steady below her, digging in the tool box for the next drill bit she would need.

“Why- the fuck- would I be mad at you?”, she said through gritted teeth, over the sound of the power tool in her hand.

“‘Cause you just said fuck, for one.”, Jaida muttered, her eyes rolling skyward. Her wife had always been a little dramatic, but there was nothing Jaida hated more than the silent treatment, far preferring a knock-down, drag-out, screaming fight to being frozen out for hours with little more than a sharp glance or a silent nodded sent her way.

Jan shrugged her shoulders, her favorite blue and red flannel shirt stretching deliciously tight across her back.

Was Jan teasing her? Was it all some kind of elaborate game that was intended to be finished in their bedroom?

“Well, whatever you’re doing, it’s killing the mood, babe.”, Jaida teased, hoping that Jan would get the hint.

Instead, she dropped the drill from her grip, clattering down the ladder as it bounced on the hard-packed ground. The battery pack popped from the tool’s back, not that Jan could be bothered as she stalked away, ignoring Jaida’s raised eyebrows.

“Hey- hey- you can’t just wreck stuff because you’re having a bad day!”, Jaida called after her wife, looking down at the mess of wires at her feet. “And I don’t know how to fix this shit so-"

She fell silent, as Jan’s steps echoed up the outdoor fire escape, her body disappearing until Jaida could only see the outline of her long, blonde hair, blowing in the wind from the balcony.

"Jan?”, she shouted, following her up the steps. “Hey, I know I fucked up, but you gotta tell me how otherwise I’m not gonna know how to fix it."

"Right.”, Jan scoffed as Jaida rounded the corner, the two of them facing towards Crystal’s house, where a second-floor light flickered on and off several times. “I forgot that everything’s so easy for you, I just have to spell it all out."

"Okay, what does that even mean?"

Jan glowered at her wife, crossing her arms across her chest.

"Why did you tell Crystal the reason you were a bully in high school was because you weren’t out?"

"That’s what this about? Baby-”, Jaida reached forward, her hand only barely touching Jan’s shoulder before her wife flinched away. “I was just trying to make her feel a little better about the whole thing, everything going on with Gigi. I don’t even remember if I was a bully in high school."

"Maybe I do.”, Jan snapped, her eyes flashing up in anger for a split second.

Jaida sighed, looking back over the horizon; where the sun was starting to dip at the back of scattered farmhouses and cottage homes littered accross the plains. “Look- I- I’m sorry and I shouldn’t have brought it up-”

“You’ve never apologized."

"You want me to say sorry?"

It had been years since Jan and Jaida had reconnected, long separated from the people that they had been as children.

Jaida had remembered Jan as an easy target from their first day in kindergarten, a tiny, loud girl who fell into a pattern that followed until Jan had left for college on a musical theatre scholarship, and Jaida had gone to play basketball for a small, comfortable liberal arts college in the heartland. When she had met Jan again; she was another person who shared the same name, at an alumni event where both of them had been invited to promote their respective colleges.

Where Jan had always worn her heart on her sleeve, the woman Jaida had married was confident, and passionate, witty and driven beyond belief.

She hadn’t had a second thought proposing to her, in the middle of the butterfly sanctuary at the zoo in the springtime, kissing her passionately without question at their Central Park wedding, their families both swaying together underneath the canopy of a white tent, to the music of the very first DJ they had found on Google.

"I just want you to- admit that it happened.”

“You’re acting like this was a big deal.”, Jaida groaned. “Baby, we were kids."

"It was a big deal. I thought about the stupid shit you and your friends said, for years after- and you don’t know what that was like."

"Okay- I-”

Jaida sighed, laying her hands on the railing that rounded the balcony, squeezing the metal rung tightly against her palms, the fight seeping out of her as she studied her wife, who looked on the verge of tears.

“Jan- baby, hey, I’m sorry. I’m really, really sorry.”

Silence fell between them, the sound of the crickets the only thing that cut in between their breaths. Jan buried her face in her hands, elbows resting against the railing beside her wife.

“I know. It’s just, that stuff adds up sometimes.”

She pressed herself into her wife’s shoulder, letting her head rest against Jaida’s arm.

“It adds up the other way around, too. Don’t think it doesn’t.”, Jan whispered, and Jaida finally let go of a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding in, her arm snaking around to rest around her wife’s waist. “It’s just a lot of work.”

“Then I’ll work on it, baby. Just tell me what you need.”

Gigi was surprised, at how instantly familiar Crystals kitchen was, breakfast leftovers heaped on top of Destiny’s plate while she quietly accepted a Diet Coke, sipping at the flat beverage as she finally began to relax. Gigi could tell her son was starting to feel sleepy, his eyes losing focus even as he kept lifting his fork to his mouth.

“Cielito.”, Crystal cooed, as she ruffled his curls, passing by the two of them as she moved to shutter the blinds in the kitchen. Destiny clearly thrived under the attention, and Gigi wondered if he had always craved touch, or if he was only a child who was excited by all of the new things around him. The heat was sticky, and Crystal’s brightly painted walls made the whole house look even more like an eternal birthday party, the fridge covered with photos and magnets.

Crystal had never learned to speak Spanish, at least as far as Gigi knew, having begged Crystal to help her pass her class for months when they had been roommates, but she supposed, she must have picked up more of it, with all the time she must have spent with her family afterwards.

“Where are you Mom and Dad?”, Gigi asked, swirling her straw in her Diet Coke. “I should say hi, right?"

Crystal shrugged. "We could Facetime? They were back in Mexico for a while after my Dad got sick, but right now they’re travelling Europe, living the old people dream. I’m sure my Mom still misses you."

Gigi took a deeper breath, her lips pursed as she watched Crystal dump dirty dishes in the sink.

"Is um- are you getting the barn demolished? I saw a couple people working on it outside."

"Oh, that’s just Jan and Jaida. They live there. I sold it a few months ago, and they’re trying to turn it into, like, a wedding hall. You’d love them- they’re the gayes-”, she paused, looking down at Destiny as he tipped his glass of orange juice into his mouth. “They’re super, super in love, and so gross."

Gigi could feel herself start to blush, even though she had started having that conversation with her son almost as soon as he had started to learn to talk.

"I usually have them over for dinner, so you can say hi."

Gigi coughed, swallowing the question that had been at the tip of her tongue since she had spoken to Crystal the day before.

"So? are you seeing anyone?”, she asked.

Crystal shook her head. “I’m not really looking.”, she said. “Still putting the cry in Crystal!”, she laughed. “And you were right, I wouldn’t want to put that on anyone else."

"I- ”, Gigi bit back her reply, not quite knowing if this was a talk she wanted to have, with her son arranging chips on his plate not two feet in front of her.

“Hey- buddy”, Crystal tapped on Destiny’s shoulder, nudging him with her hip. “Go wash your hands in the bathroom. It’s the one with the fish on the door and Star Wars on the curtain."

He looked back up at his mother, Gigi giving him a curt nod of approval as he skittered up the hallway.

"He’s a cute kid, you know? You’re doing a good job.”, she told Gigi, pushing the boy’s chair back in.

“Yeah… mostly not my job, but I’ll pass it on to our last nanny."

Gigi had stood with their plates, following Crystal to the sink where she happily plunged her arms into the hot, soapy bubbles, not caring very much for how her shirtsleeves got soaked in the water, navy fabric clinging to her wrists.

"Seriously. Gigi- look at me.”, Crystal reached around her, shutting off the faucet with a decisive clicking noise. “I don’t blame you for being twenty-one and not sticking around after I flipped out because I didn’t know how to deal with college, and real life and everything. It’s a day by day thing.”, she shrugged, reaching to open a cabinet and put the glasses in the drying rack away.

Crystal’s body was almost uncomfortably close, pressing into Gigi’s side like she remembered them being like, when they had shared their first apartment, having barely enough room for two people in between the fridge and the stove.

“Some days are better than others. But it’s-”, she paused, and smirked, her lips curling into the same wicked grin that Gigi could never shake from her memories, no matter how hard she tried. “No offense, but you’re not important enough for it to have been your fault."

"Oh, that’s how it’s gonna be, huh?”, Gigi couldn’t help but laugh, shaking her head. “Kick a girl when she’s down?"

"Or, some people just have shitty brain chemistry, and other people are assholes. Stop thinking it’s all on you all the time, you absolute flaming fuck-up.”, Crystal told her, her words softening behind her smile.

“Maybe don’t say flaming, but I did fu-"

Destiny padded back into the room, rubbing at his eyes. "Is it adult time yet?”, he asked, his tiny mouth yawning open. “Everyone’s saying all the bad words."

Crystal snickered, turning her undivided attention back to rinsing out the sink, her back turned to the both of them as if to say Gigi was on her own with that one.

"Good night, I guess.”, she muttered, shuffling across the tile towards him.

“See you tomorrow, Geegs. Just don’t forget, there’s always that.”

Gigi laid in bed with Destiny resting half on her chest, her son not wanting to leave her side, once the novelty of their adventure had worn off, and he had started to realize that there was a certain kind of permanence, to Crystal’s rainbow-colored walls, to the laughter from the kitchen that came from Jan and Jaida, who had eyed Gigi with enough suspicion to let it be known to her that she was absolutely not welcome in whatever little world they had built.

Okay, maybe the last bit was just in her head, and she could just introduce herself properly at breakfast the next morning- but she had still jumped at the chance to lock herself in Destiny’s appointed bedroom, pretending that he would need her to fall asleep, even though he had only wanted to cuddle before passing out completely the second that she dimmed the lights.

She scrolled through her phone, mindlessly as her son shifted in her arms, the message bubble beside his father’s name still lit up red with unread texts, that she skipped through to flick past her Instagram feed, landing on Crystal’s profile at the very bottom of her following list. The very first account which she had followed, years ago, and the very last that she kept up with, the creeping intimacy of being under Crystal’s roof, trying to piece together the life she had dropped out of, thicker than the heat of the air around her.

Crystal’s photos were all filtered through something that made them look brighter, more vibrant than the rainy afternoons and damp wetlands that they featured in the background, the captions all long, effusive essays about the importance of showing up to vote, or the beauty of the creek behind her house in the summertime. The most recent photo, featured her lying in a bed of sunflowers, grinning up at the sky, eyes half-shut against the sunlight.

Don’t look right into a solar eclipse!, the caption started, followed by at least a dozen laughing emoji faces, alternating with bright pink flowers. Sometimes life just punches you in the face, dummy! And you just gotta deal with it anyway. Don’t waste a second!

Gigi chuckled, locking the phone and laying it back on the bedside table, trying to move as little as possible as she turned off what was left of the light in the bedroom, and drew herself closer to her son in her arms.

His breathing was steady, his hands reaching for her hair in his sleep.

“Okay, kiddo. I got you.”, she said to nobody in particular, sinking lower in the sheets so she could tuck them tighter around him.

There’s always tomorrow, she could hear Crystal telling her, her voice clear as the dream Gigi was starting to slip into.

The next morning, she would start putting everything back together again.

#rpdr fanfiction #gigi goode #crystal methyd #jaida essence hall #jan sport #crygi #jaida x jan #lesbian au #hurt/comfort #parenting au #s12 #angst #fluff #campvanjie #tw mentions of divorce #tw mention of mental illness

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quakerjoe · 4 years ago

Link

Despite appropriating the grandiosity of the White House for his own political gain, Trump still fell solidly short of Joe Biden’s 24.6 million viewers. And on the third night of the convention, Kamala Harris at 22.8 million viewers trounced Mike Pence, who delivered a dismal 17.3 million viewers.

But even before we had that metric to judge by, GOP convention organizers sought to make the case for Trump mostly in his absence. Even though Trump bookended the 4-day liefest by showing up early on the first day and blathering away for nearly an hour, and then closing out the convention by blathering for more than another hour, Trump was surprisingly more absent than expected in between those two appearances.

In Trump’s absence, his validators worked really hard to sell Americans on some mythical Trump figure who’s really a nice guy deep down, not racist, and much more mainstream than the cringe-worthy Trump we’re all subjected to on a daily/hourly and sometimes minute-by-minute basis.

“From the day that I met him, he has only wanted to make this country the best it can be,” first lady Melania Trump said in her Rose Garden speech Tuesday. “America is in his heart.” Of course, she also said Americans deserve “total honesty” from their president and Trump’s guy to give it—so let’s just say Melania’s more of a grain-of-salt validator.

But the Trump-less mirage was the plan—placing fictional warm-and-fuzzy Trump in a fictional world where he never bungled the coronavirus cuz it never happened and the Biden-Harris ticket is actively planning to destroy the suburbs as white America knows them.

The problem for the Trump campaign moving forward is that fictional Trump doesn’t exist and everyone damn well knows it because his main mission in life is bringing as much misery to the world as he experiences in his own miserably decrepit brain. Additionally, the fictional world in which Joe Biden is an antifa puppet and the coronavirus isn’t claiming hundreds of thousands of American lives also doesn’t exist and every voter who could swing this election also knows that.

We’re not talking about the 30%-35% of Trump cultists who appear to have prematurely donated their brains to science. We’re talking about a segment of white female Trump 2016 voters, mostly with a college education, who ditched Republicans for Democrats in the midterms and, without whom, Trump doesn’t have a glimmer of hope of being reelected.

Now, it’s possible that the Democratic base and Black voters in particular will show up in numbers that completely swamp Trump no matter whom he persuades to vote for him. But the fact remains that without winning back these “soft Trump” voters, the Dons stands no chance whatsoever.

And in their world, the coronavirus exists as do the protests and the chaos in the streets of Kenosha, Wisconsin, and they are worried about both to varying degrees. Of those two concerns, Trump has lost the pandemic battle and ceded the issue. We’ve seen the polling, it hasn’t wavered, and Trump did absolutely nothing during the convention to reassure swing voters that he would miraculously start demonstrating some kind of leadership on the issue.

What’s left to him and his Republican allies is to convince these voters that what is happening in Kenosha could happen anywhere and is a bigger threat to them than the pandemic.

“What we can never have in America – and must never allow – is MOB RULE,” said Trump’s prepared remarks for his acceptance speech (emphasis theirs). “In the strongest possible terms, the Republican Party condemns the rioting, looting, arson and violence we have seen in Democrat-run cities like Kenosha, Minneapolis, Portland, Chicago, and New York.”

At a New Hampshire rally on Friday night, Trump followed up, telling the crowd, “We are all that stand between the American people and the left-wing mob.”

So far, the people wounded in Kenosha include: a 29-year-old Black man, Jacob Blake, who was shot in the back seven times by police, point blank; and three peaceful BLM protesters—two of whom died—shot by an armed Trump enthusiast. The violence isn’t coming from the protesters. It’s a product of the fury and division Trump has fueled from the moment he launched his political rise on the back of the racist birther movement seeking to delegitimize Barack Obama’s presidency.

Republicans, in an act of total desperation, are going to pour gasoline on the fire Trump has ignited to detract attention away from the roughly one thousand Americans who continue to die each day due to Trump’s COVID incompetence. During Mike Pence’s convention speech, he despicably suggested a federal officer, Dave Patrick Underwood, was killed by protesters in Oakland, California, when Underwood was actually executed by an adherent of the right-wing extremist “Boogaloo Boys” movement that’s mission is to ignite a race war.

Naturally, pathetic Kentucky Sen. Rand Paul is already getting in on the action, pretending he was attacked by a “crazed mob” of DC protesters and demanding an FBI investigation and arrests.

“Something’s going on here, and it’s much bigger than people think,” Paul told Fox News Friday, “but the bottom line is, we can’t let the United States become Portland, and that’s what my fear is: that the United States is going to be on fire if we have no police.”

The only thing that’s going on is Rand’s overactive imagination (perhaps caused by a little PTSD after being pummeled by his neighbor several years ago) and police shooting black men while armed right-wing activists murder people.

The violence is Trump’s own doing. As former Trump Homeland Security official Elizabeth Neumann explained in a video this week, “We are less safe today because of his leadership. We will continue to be less safe as long as he is in control.” Neumann, a pro-life Republican, voted for Trump in 2016. After serving several years in the Trump administration, she’s voting for Joe Biden this year.

Don’t let your neighbors or your family members fall into the trap of being overwhelmed by the “chaos” in the streets of Donald Trump’s America. It’s not random, it’s orchestrated and Trump has been pulling the strings for years to produce the effects we are now seeing. Trump is uniquely responsible for the violence erupting on his watch. And the only way to heal this nation, to bring calm, is to boot Trump from office this November.

#racism

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a-silly-person · 4 years ago

Text

someone posted a pic of the windows xp login screen and was like “you guys remember this” and someone else was like “yeah when I was five”

and I just have a story

so— the year is 2006. Windows XP has been out for a while now, and most of my friends have a computer sitting in the computer room that has windows XP. Except for me, because my dad was still running windows 98. In 2006.

His reasoning? “Windows XP is full of holes!”

What holes? I still have no idea. If he’s talking about data leaks, it would be very ironic, because so far Windows XP is the safest Windows operating system to come out, ever— to the point where many big box store cash registers still used Windows XP until recently because it was safer than any subsequent versions. But that’s a story for another day.

I begged my dad to get windows XP almost daily. It could run MSN messenger, but not well, and a lot of my friends had started to get into 3D client chat sites like IMVU that I also wanted to use with them. These clients, like IMVU, would run on my Windows 98 CRT white relic of a computer, but none of the graphics would actually load. I basically just had a blank screen with chat bubbles. This computer was SO OLD, that when our house was robbed in late 2006, they took almost all of our electronics EXCEPT for this stupid piece of shit computer. The monitor was on when we came home. The robbers literally wiggled the mouse, saw how old it was, and went “nah.”

My dad waited SO LONG to get windows XP, that by the time he FINALLY wanted to upgrade the computer in 2007, he had MISSED the window for XP being the most up-to-date windows OS and now all he could get were flat screen monitor style computers with the new Windows Vista. Which meant that in 2007, I went from having the oldest, most decrepit computer of all my friends, to the newest, most advanced computer of all my friends.

The euphoria of this change? Like drugs. I was addicted. Every day after school I’d lock myself in the dark computer room for hours and yell at my little sister for even daring to ask if she could have a turn. Didn’t she know how much I’d suffered? I needed this. My IMVU avatar was so high def. Fuck the free copy of Kid Pix I got in a cereal box�� An illegally downloaded copy of the newest version of Photoshop was now my oyster. All my wobbly crap anime art on DeviantArt was now the most high quality use of the spray can tool you’ve ever seen. That new website YouTube? You know, the one where you can post and watch videos? It only needed to buffer for less than ten seconds before it played. I watched How To Be A Ninja an unholy amount of times just because I could. My webcam? The newest one. My 13 year old face was beautiful in washed out 2 megapixel resolution. Limewire never knew what hit it. I had every Japanese D&D song that ever existed burning onto a blank CD. I was unstoppable. The high? I’ve been chasing it ever since.

#windows xp #y2k #2006 #2007 #windows 98 #early internet #sort of

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lilibetts · 5 years ago

Photo

The Wicked Forest Awaits You...

For Tricks and Treats of Riverdale, Theme 3: Seasonal Celebrations (Haunted House)

Rated E(xplicit) for some wicked fun!

Darkness falls across the land The midnight hour is close at hand Creatures crawl in search of blood To terrorize y'all's neighborhood And whosoever shall be found Without the soul for getting down Must stand and face the hounds of hell And rot inside a corpse's shell

I'm gonna thrill ya tonight I'm gonna thrill ya tonight Ooh, babe I'm gonna thrill ya tonight

The Wicked Forest was reportedly “the most un-hinged haunted attraction in Riverdale”.

Betty had shown up as soon as the sun went down, and she still spent an hour waiting in line. Alone, of course. Every one of her friends would rather spend Halloween getting drunk at an off-campus party than indulging in the spooky atmosphere. Granted, she hadn’t actually told anyone where she would be going tonight, because the Wicked Forest was firmly in the Southside and as much as some people in the Northside liked to brag or bluster, very few had the guts to actually cross the boundary lines.

That she had gave Betty an illicit thrill.

This year, she’d dressed up as a zombie schoolgirl: hair spray painted gray in a side ponytail to match her torn, bloody white blouse and desaturated gray plaid miniskirt. The face makeup was the most fun to apply, all those Youtube tutorials coming in handy. Gray foundation to give herself a deathly pallor on all expanses of exposed skin, black raccoon eyes, fleshy red ‘gouges’ on the side of her face, and dark red lipstick.

She wondered what her friends would think if they knew she was actually dressing sexy for once. They probably wouldn’t believe it.

A haunted house on Halloween was hardly the place to pick up a date, but for Betty, who had been gradually building up her confidence to sign up for Tinder, wearing knee-high white socks and no underwear made her feel like a bold, sexy woman.

“Betty?” a familiar baritone called out from behind her. She turned around and a guy she didn’t immediately recognize waved at her. “Hey.”

Squinting, she took in the mop of black hair and the slim body in a black-and-white skeleton shirt, leather jacket, black jeans and boots, and the skeleton face paint. “Jughead? Is that you? You look amazing!”

“Thanks. So do you.”

Jughead Jones had shared a few classes with her over the past two years. At first, Betty had found him and his voice annoying. She couldn’t be sure at what point over the past two years her feelings had evolved into a massive, uncontrollable crush. Naturally, in true Betty Cooper fashion, she didn’t have the guts to try and make a move and would rather throw herself into the vicissitudes of online hookups.

Jughead ran a hand covered in fingerless gloves through his hair. “Do you want to go through together?”

“Sure!” She could’ve kicked herself for her bobblehead impersonation then. “So have you gone through this one before?”

“Twice as a guest, but I’ve worked it several times as well.”

“Really? What kind of characters did you play?”

“I did mostly forest work—a Jason Vorhees/Leatherface composite type with a hockey mask and chainsaw. One year I got to be a werewolf.” Jughead sounded more bashful than proud when he admitted that.

“I bet it was fun...I prefer to be on the receiving end of scares, though.”

“Unless it’s one of Chipping’s essay prompts,” he quipped.

Betty groaned and smacked his arm. “Don’t remind me. The last one was so stupid, wasn’t it? ‘Write your own ending to prove there’s no single way to tell a story...but’—”

“—’but I’m still going to pick a winner in the end!’” they both chorused, laughing at their shared derision.

After that they were quickly engrossed in a debate about the best Halloween movies to watch during the buildup to the holiday. Jughead’s preferences ran more towards the older classics and Hitchcock, Betty’s more towards relatively recent films like Hocus Pocus, The Addams Family, and Practical Magic.

Oddly enough, she discovered they both loved the cult hit Ginger Snaps.

By the time they were at the head of the line, Betty was sure her blush was showing through the heavy makeup.

The general order of the Wicked Forest went like this: haunted house, a maze that led to the shed, a bridge over the creek, then the forest proper.

The baseboards creaked as they crossed into the dilapidated house; maniacal laughter and screams could be heard faintly in the distance. A ghostly apparition dressed like a long-dead bride lit up in the corner of the living room, moaning as its arm raised, pointing a finger at them. Betty gasped and hugged the wall as she moved into the kitchen, Jughead following close by.

Smoky fog covered the floor, pouring from cauldrons. Made from dry ice, probably, and lit up by green lights. A witch cackled as she stirred her brew. In the corners, cages descended from the ceiling, people in them reaching out and begging for help.

She shared a wide smile with Jughead.

In the bathroom, they found a bloated dead body with red hair, dressed in all white, floating in the tub. “Disturbingly realistic,” Betty muttered to herself. In the dining room, a young woman was suspended up on the wall with long knives sticking out of her body. ‘All those who escaped me before will die’ was scrawled in blood around her body.

“I think she was in our English class last year,” Jughead whispered to Betty, her stomach queasy from the excitement.

They were herded into the basement, where they discovered that in order to get to the other side, they would have to go through a gauntlet of secret society members in dark hooded robes. A red carpet highlighted their path. After they’d taken a few steps past the first hooded figures, they all stepped forward, giving Betty and Jughead less space to escape. As if reading each other’s minds they moved faster, only for the hooded figures to step closer and closer.

One jumped into their path, exposing a Scream mask. Betty was not at all mortified by her little yelp of fright. Not at all.

From there, they were in a cool cellar with a dimly lit tunnel rising up to ground level outside. Cobwebs covered the top and sides and as soon as she spotted the giant spider on top, she had a feeling she knew what was coming. Sure enough, as soon as they passed underneath, the spider dropped onto their heads. Betty shrieked and ran the rest of the way through.

“Oh my god, oh my god!”

Jughead was clearly laughing at her expense as they emerged outside. “What, are you scared of spiders, Cooper?” he teased her.

“Shut it, Jones.” She snapped back without heat. “Why are you even going through the attraction if it bores you?”

“Oh, it’s never boring. Maybe I’m just enjoying it more with you.”

She felt like she was back in sixth grade again. Should she pass him a note asking ‘do you like-like me? Circle y/n’?

Betty was grateful for the absurdly long lead time in between guests. It meant she wasn’t running into the group ahead or the group behind, like in most other haunted attractions she’d attended over the years.

As they entered the shed, the walls and floor tilted, disorienting her. Then Jughead was there, hand slipping into hers as he helped guide her to more even ground. Even after the floorboards started vibrating underneath them, neither let go of the other. Betty laughed with delight as they pushed through the heavy plastic curtains into an open space occupied by a scene out of a medical horror: a conscious, moaning woman was strapped down on a gurney while a man in a bloody doctor’s mask and lab coat performed what looked like a lobotomy on her, bits of brain matter leaking outside her head. Her chest was held open by a spreader, the bloody mass of her internal organs on display.

“Ew, ew, ew!” Betty stomped her feet and pushed Jughead onwards faster. “Too real!”

The trees pressed in on them more as the manmade pathway guided them to the small bridge that would take them across the creek and into the thick of the forest. Part of the way across, a small golden light came on in the distance, drawing her attention to the side. A hulking body unfolded itself before howling at the night sky above.

Betty didn’t realize Jughead was right behind her until her back was pressed into his front and his hands gripped her hips. She turned her head without taking her eyes off the werewolf. “Your old job?”

“Yeah, me and Fangs used to partner during this bit.”

“Partner?”

A dark shape darted in between the bridge railings, grabbing at her ankles. Jughead’s giggles were almost as loud next to her ear as her startled shrieks before she took off to the other side. She had to remind herself to breathe deeply and calm herself down while they moved on.

Maybe it was the near pitch black of the forest that made her brave, but Betty reached out and slid her hand back in Jughead’s. They shared shy smiles that made hope bloom inside her.

There was a decrepit school bus sitting right there in the middle of the trees. Not sinister at all. Jughead made a gallant ‘after you’ motion, sweeping low with his bow. Betty fanned herself and simpered, “such a gentleman!”

“Nonsense! I’m merely ensuing you die first, my dear.” His upper crust British accent was atrocious.

“You sounded like Niles Crane from Frasier.”

She forced herself to stop snickering as she stepped up into the bus. At first glance, all the people in the seats were dead or otherwise inanimate. Carefully, she made her way down the narrow aisle, hugging her arms to herself in anticipation of the movement she knew must be com—

“AH! FUCK!”

Betty twisted around and saw Jughead pressed up against seats opposite a softly hooting ghoul still reaching out for him with gnarled fingers.

At the front, a burly man wearing a black balaclava stood up suddenly, facing them with an enormous, shiny knife. The momentary relief on Jughead’s face morphed to fear and Betty didn’t have to be told twice as they booked it out of the bus, one more monstrous figure trying to impede their progress.

“So much for the unflappable Jughead Jones,” she started after they caught their breath and made sure the man in the black hood wasn’t following them any longer.

“Har har, I am humbled.”

After that point, the path became increasingly bumpy and overgrown and Betty couldn’t see well enough to stop herself from lurching to and fro. Jughead was right there by her side, using his arm around her waist to keep her from face-planting in the dirt. Given that she was wearing low block heels, she had no idea how some of the other guests were doing this in three inch stilettos.

Maybe it was their surroundings, maybe it was Jughead’s touch that was responsible for her heart continuing to pound wildly. Branches closed in on them before they exited into a small clearing. A fire roared in a pit, the sudden brightness making her eyes hurt and eclipsing what was happening along the treeline.

“Whoa,” Jughead murmured, alarmed, causing her to squint harder.

People had stepped into the firelight, wearing dark hooded sweatshirts and gray gargoyle masks. Growling could be heard behind them and when Betty and Jughead turned, an inhumanely tall figure stepped around the bushes, with a long robe, some kind of blooded animal skull mask with horns, branches for wings, and a necklace of bones.

The minions stepped closer, closing ranks menacingly. This time, it was Jughead who grabbed her hand and tugged her past the leader and the wooden placard that proclaimed that the creature was the Gargoyle King, and back into the dark forest.

They stumbled along for another minute before Jughead muttered something to himself that sounded vaguely like “ah, fuck it”.

He led her over to the rope boundary that made up the path and stepped over it.

“What are you doing?”

“Shh! I know this place like the back of my hand. It’s just the lame clown shit ahead. Do you trust me?”

Betty didn’t know about trust, but she was totally down for whatever they might get up to out there. Alone. “Hmm-mm,” she nodded and stepped carefully over the rope too. Together they made their way down a slope and around a cluster of bushes.

She found herself pressed back against a thick tree trunk, warm lips on hers, and the sounds of excited screams nearby reminding her that they weren’t alone. Betty raised up onto her tiptoes and pulled Jughead closer as she kissed him all the more eagerly.

The heat of his hands could be felt through her shirt while he cupped her breasts, making her tilt her head back to moan.

“Shhh,” he whispered softly this time before dotting soft kisses along her neck.

Their face makeup must be horribly messed up by now but Betty didn’t care. She wanted to take him back to her dorm room, or go to his, and do all the wicked things she’d been fantasizing about.

A little exhibitionism was fun, though.

By the time Jughead slipped his hands underneath her skirt and discovered her little secret, she was incredibly wet. Wet enough for him to let out a quiet expletive and a shuddering sigh as his fingers glided along her inner lips. He quickly removed his glove and slid two up into her, stroking slowly before rubbing steady circles over her clit. Back and forth he went, until she was groaning and bucking her hips against his hand as she came embarrassingly fast.

Apparently haunted houses make for excellent foreplay.

Reaching for the button of his jeans,Betty ignored his protests of “you don’t have to”. It was her turn to shush him as she lowered herself onto her knees and took him into her mouth, swirling her tongue around the head of his shaft to get him nice and wet. Jughead did his best to not thrust into her mouth and his panting breaths were harsh in the relative silence of the night. He lost control towards the end, she could feel him shaking as his hips canted forward and salty wetness burst onto her tongue.

Veronica was definitely not going to believe her when she told her what she’d done tonight.

They held hands and grinned broadly as they rejoined the path behind another group. When a tall, demented clown caught sight of them in the intense blue light, he groaned and ripped off his mask. “You’ve got to be kidding me, Jones? Were you two fucking off-path? Fucking seriously?”

Jughead only offered his friend a careless shrug. “Hey Sweets, how’s tricks?”

Betty, however, pressed closer against his side and smiled serenely up at the taller man. “Because I’ve already gotten the treat.”

‘Sweets’ groaned at the pun and waved them on. “Just get out of my forest, you freaks.”

They snickered as they made it to the end where a flatbed full of bales of hay was hooked up to a tractor, waiting to take them back around to the entrance. Jughead glanced over at her then, and Betty had to bite back another laugh. His makeup pretty much announced to everyone what they’d been up to, but she couldn’t bring herself to care.

Orgasms and finally hooking up with your crush would do that.

“So, would it be too weird for me to ask if you wanted to go out to lunch with me this weekend?”

(His answer was an immediate and resounding yes.)

#bughead #bughead fanfiction #riverdaleevents #avarosier writes

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wendysanderson · 4 years ago

Photo

WENDY SANDERSON ( YARA SHAHIDI ) is a 17 year old JUNIOR student at Broadripple Academy. SHE is originally from JAMAICA PLAIN, BOSTON, MASSACHUSETTS but moved to Broadripple 1 YEAR ago. SHE is EXCITABLE and EMPATHETIC but can also be CLINGY and IMPATIENT.

BASICS

Name: Wendy Sanderson

Age: 17

Grade: Junior

House: Keough

Cabin Room: Room 1

How long have they been at Broadripple: Started her sophomore year

Where are they from originally: Jamaica Plain, Boston, Massachusetts

Extra curricular: Chamber Choir, Women of Broadripple, Yearbook (writer), and Broadripple Unsolved

CHARACTER AESTHETICS

Half-eaten bowls of Lucky Charms, colorful jackets from the local Goodwill, a heavily annotated copy of Mary Oliver’s Devotions, chipped nail polish, a varied collection of sunglasses, the ‘Are You Still Watching?’ Netflix screen, the Arnold Arboretum in bloom in the springtime, a hot cup of fruit tea, snack-based rewards systems, bottles of coconut oil, the communal groan of frustration on the decrepit Orange Line, $2 face masks, and late night Wikipedia deep dives.

TRAITS

Positive Personality Traits: Excitable, empathetic, imaginative, outgoing, affectionate, and generous

Neutral Personality Traits: Talkative, noncommittal, inquisitive, literary, and perceptive

Negative Personality Traits: Clingy, impatient, unreliable, scattered, blabbermouth, and moody

FACTS

About two years ago, Wendy’s family came into a solid chunk of change. Wendy’s mother Bahar is a nurse and caretaker. Over the past decade, she had been taking care of a wealthy elderly man in the Back Bay. When he passed, he unexpectedly left her some money in his will. Wendy’s parents almost immediately decided it would be invested in Wendy’s education. Her dad’s parents wanted her to receive a Catholic one, and her dad wanted Wendy to practice some independence, and so Broadripple came up in their research and she was off. Wendy’s hand in the decision-making process was decidedly minimal.

Wendy enjoys Broadripple in that it’s fun to romanticize a bunch of old buildings. She enjoys creating narratives about and daydreaming of students of the past among the hallowed halls more than she does doing group projects. The school itself is too far-removed from society for her to find it particularly scintillating, but she’s making do! She’s a pretty positive person, though undoubtedly impatient. But she’ll admit it has its other draws. Their reputation is near-flawless—disregarding all that spooky shit, which she personally finds cool and intriguing, since the endless forest has some real The Witch vibes—and it bolsters a lot of interesting clubs and classes she can be a part of. The longer she attends, the more uncomfortable she is with the wealth of her peers, as well as impatient with those she deems rude and snobbish. She also has a habit of falling in love/developing crushes easily, often, and recklessly, and Broadripple certainly doesn’t have a shortage of attractive people. It’s a real gold mine, there.

Wendy’s favorite subject is Literature Analysis. She enjoys it because it is something of a creative outlet; she firmly believes there’s a lot of leeway in how things can be interpreted and she enjoys interpreting things ad nauseam. She particularly likes when they cover poets, but none of that boring classical white guy stuff. She’s more of a Toni Morrison-Mary Oliver-Anne Sexton-Jeanette Winterson-Gwendolyn Brooks type.

HEADCANONS

Wendy misses home a lot. She’s a very sentimental, clingy person. It’s hard for her to be away from the people she loves. Every once in awhile she’ll take a Greyhound back home for the weekend.

Queen of having a wardrobe primarily composed of statement pieces!

Spent nearly the entirety of middle school writing elaborate Jane Austen fanfictions. She is absolutely loyal to Mr. Knightley’s ass! 🙅 Mr. Darcy do not interact. 🙅

[Let’s_Hear_It_For_The_Boy.mp3 on repeat]

Falls in love 5 times a day, yunno.

Writes a lot of poetry that may or may not be good but the poems sure are in abundance!

QUESTIONS ABOUT THE RETREAT

What do they think about The Retreat? Stuck in the middle of the woods in a creaky, old cabin is less than what she hoped for. Born and raised in the city, staying in the actual dorms at BA took a major adjustment period already (the tree frogs and crickets alone heard distantly through her open window on a hot night already kept her up). It’s fun to poke around scary places on campus on the weekend with the BAU, but then it’s also nice to go back to the safe dormitories afterward. All in all, she’s not super psyched to be here but she will try and romanticize tf out of it for as long as she can! And tag along with BAU shenanigans, of course.

Do they have any previous experience with camping or other outdoors? Absolutely none. <3

What does their cabin bunk look like? How will they decorate their space? Wendy is a proponent of the opposite of minimalism, which is Clutterbitch. She has various knick knacks and pictures and posters, as well as plenty of bins and storage to keep all her products, books, snacks, etc. There is no surface left untouched, let’s say that, and most likely a string of fairy lights somewhere. She also has a couple half-dead plants and a collection of postcards from her sister who travels around the country with the nonprofit she works for.

Do they believe in the supernatural? To what degree? This answer is gonna be a little repetitive irt the first answer above but at this moment in time, yes! And I say “at this moment in time” because she, at the moment, she wants to believe in it. When she was in the school dorms, it seemed like a fun thing to entertain. She’s a curious person and she has a lot of flights of fancy (as dubbed by her parents), so when it came to her attention that there was an unofficial club that explored the spooky past of the school? She was like, sounds fun! :) I wanna be included! :) So I’ll say she genuinely believes in spooky stuff, but not cryptid stuff.

Are they easily spooked? On the whole, surprisingly, no. But again, this environment is very unfamiliar to Wendy. All of her outdoors-y knowledge stems from the time she spends at the Arnold Arboretum in Boston and in/around Jamaica Pond. She grew up in a city and has very little experience outside of it. Unfamiliarity can brew paranoia, but her spooks are more animal (bears, bobcats, fishercats) related than supernatural.

AND FINALLY,

A very dumb but (hopefully) fun quiz made by your admins, please share what result you got

in which no one is surprised <3

#again.... reusing a graphic? i am the most innovative mind of my generation #retreat:intro #retreat:task1

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agarserv · 5 years ago

Text

Adversary | V

Word Count: 5005

There’s a moment of quiet agreement as Clementine continues. Knowing the two remembered her words as they begin working together. Their eyes all darkened within the pitch black tunnel, knowing that nightfall was a primary cause for it, and whatever walkers were nearby certainly would show their decrepit faces just as the first had. The groans of the decayed leftovers of human beings still resided further down. Their echoes becoming less and less resounding as they realized how much thinner the hall of the tunnel would become.

Almost to the point where they’d be in single files.

“Just keep going.” Clementine harshly whispers. Her voices barely a magnitude above the quiet drops of water pooling at their feet.

Violet nods, gripping her nearby cleaver slightly tighter as she can barely see the white forming on her knuckles—before her attention turns back to the white of the flashlight highlighting what must’ve been down ahead.

Clementine slightly crouches, giving the redhead more room to stand over her is the case that she may actually need to use her revolver. Steady hands and eyes peering forward as they move together. Slower than before, but also much more silently. Listening as some groans become more apparent, just as a heaping jaw of decayed flesh tears it’s arms out at them. Skin peeling at its fingers as Clementine is nearly gripped by them, ducking under fast enough as she gets behind it, just in time for Sophie to hit it over the head with the back of her pistol with a sickening crunch.

Violet moves to finish it off as soon as Sophie gets past it, slicing her cleaver directly across its face. Watching the way the blade cuts deeply right through the faded iris of the walker, showing what dead flesh laid behind it. As decayed and disgusting as it’d been on the outside as some of the old blood gets onto the blonde’s face alongside the flesh. Her green eyes looking vibrant against the nearly black blood laid against her pale skin. Slicing at it deeper and deeper before the cleaver finally comes free, and the groans of this walker stop.

And it isn’t until she hears a gunshot does Violet realize there’s more. And more are going to come now that they’ve heard that echo through the hallway. Slicing anything else she thought she heard as Violet begins running to rejoin the others, hopping across laiden bodies of walkers and deeper puddles mixing with the blood she barely saw with the now red glinting in her flashlight. Mixing together and flickering across the bodies of her friends up ahead in an image that gave her chills.

“Keep going, there’s an opening to a wider room down the hall. We can’t let any walkers get close now that we only have like...three shots left.” Clementine mumbles, seeing the nod Sophie and Violet both give her before they run to the other room, stopping dead in their tracks and nearly colliding with each other upon entry.

It looks almost like a small entryway. Stocked with the old supplies similar to the other room as the girls look over everything. Eyeing a nearby map splayed out on a table as well as the thickening smell of blood filling the rest of the room.

They knew what that meant. All too well for that matter.

Clementine eyes the supplies momentarily before she moves back through the doorway, grabbing a nearby bottle at her side as she grips it in her hand, watching and waiting for any sort of sound that would signify a walker or a person was nearby. The smell of blood getting thicker and thicker as she finally opens the adjoining door. Her eyes glancing up in realization.

“Holy shit.” She whispers, the others soon to follow as they hadn’t exactly heard such a reaction out of her over something she saw.

Theirs weren’t very different.

“Jesus fucking Christ!” Violet is quick to shout, putting her shirt over her mouth over the encroaching smell soon replacing the blood that’d previously filled the room, which is head was now resting against their boots in the gruesome crimson stains the liquid held that once dropped from the rotting body.

“And I thought walkers smelled bad.” Sophie shakes her head, cringing at the smell as she lets out a cough. While Clementine still stared at it.

The way they hung from the ceiling, their head broken in with what looked to be previous injuries.

Meaning they definitely didn’t do this themselves

The rotting skin held a black tint to it in what was already a darkened room only lit by the torch Violet had been holding and the array of lanterns across the tables—now littered in the same red crimson the rest of it had poured down and to the ground. Now in different pools that had coagulated long ago.

“Looks like his skin melted into his fucking bones.” Violet points out. Almost coughing and gagging again.

Clementine nods, venturing slightly closer. “Practically is. Must’ve been here a long time.”

“Like weeks.” Sophie adds.

“Yeah, maybe even a month.” She pauses, looking back to the room of supplies in the back before keeping her voice slightly above the harsh whisper it’d been moments ago. “I think it’s clear, we can stay here for shelter tonight.”

“What?! With monthly deadie over there? Don’t you think that’s a little-“

“It isn’t like he’s going to turn.” Clementine shrugs, opening the nearby door as violet merely placed her hands up in frustration. Following her anyway as she wasn’t going to be caught anywhere past them within the rest of the dark tunnels.

Or the dead guy.

She watches as Clementine wipes at her face, leaving small stains of blood across a diagonal line from her eyes and cheeks. Almost turning her head at how intimidating it had practically seemed, but nowhere near close to what could have been if she wasn’t exactly fond of the rest of the teen.

“So uh. That was quite the rush. But how come we’re in the tunnel of death?”

“It’ll give us shelter, and it makes our trip quicker than going down the ruins of the old skyscrapers up there. Wouldn’t want to run into any of the Coalition anyway.”

“The what now…” Sophie pauses mid bite into a candy bar, her brows raised and eyes almost fearful as she practically knew the answer.

“They were part of the group who attacked us. And the guys who had that map from Delta were going to be deserters. They act like they’re some new hope against walkers. Like they’ll be some military for us all to look up to and have protecting us. When they’ve done anything but.”

“So some of them are good? Not just like- killers or whatever?”

“They act like it. They haven’t exactly “reformed” anything yet. They’re still killers and monsters just like the walkers…” Clementine tells them. “Just like Delta.”

“They must be at war with them.” Violet mentions. “If those guys were deserting I doubt Delta would be accepting recruits from that group otherwise.”

“Definitely. Those two haven’t gotten along as long as I used to be a part of Delta.”

“No kidding. They seem just as bad.”

“Except for the fact that they don’t force children to be child soldiers, if there’s anything I can give the Coalition credit for, is that they don’t kidnap people for recruitment...but that doesn’t mean they aren’t persuasive…”

“Something tells me this persuasion isn’t always great.”

“Not really, but nowhere near as bad as Delta was. Not to the point where they lie anyway.”

“Fun.” Violet jokes, leaning back against an old wooden chair as her green eyes glance back towards the bloodied room of the executed man. Wondering what he’s done to deserve that. As she knew she couldn’t just feel bad. There’s a lot of things he could’ve been, a lot of things he must’ve been. But now? He was spared the fate of becoming a walker. But she couldn’t help but wonder if maybe he deserved to be one. Or maybe he didn’t deserve to die at all.

Morality and empathy were confusing. Especially through the amber eyes Violet finds herself glancing to now. Wondering how they saw it. Knowing it could never be as black and white as people would assume. That they themselves were bad people in their own right. That maybe one of them deserved the same fate as the man inside.

But who was to decide that now? Between those who fought wars that both sides said it was “for the good of the people”, it definitely wasn’t a simple definition. Right now there wasn’t any good for the people. They couldn’t help the lone survivors outside their own walls or at the other ends of their guns.

It was like the entire world lost the concept of trust. Of humanity and of some of the empathy that maybe they should’ve had.

But it was lost years ago to the sea of the dead, it wasn’t like they could grab it like a needle in a haystack.

Her attention is drawn back to the damp room the trio is within as she hears the sound of a bottle opening. Glancing over to Clementine as she inspects an old bottle of some type of alcohol. Having a fiery orange liquid inside among its torn up label that was practically unreadable now.

“Thank god. I feel like we deserve something to help us take the edge off.” The brunette grins, the pads of her fingers absentmindedly tapping against the sides of the glass as she turns to the others with a sneer. “Want some? I take it you lot have seen enough blood for an entire damn month.”

Sophie places her hand up, awkwardly shaking her head as she tries to be polite. “Uh...I’m good, thanks.”

“Suit yourself.” Clementine shrugs, looking over to Violet with a raised eyebrow, almost as if she was already well equipped with what the response was most likely going to be.

Either to deny it like Sophie...or maybe get her attention away from the blood filled room that was just nearby….

“Fuck it.” Violet whispers, watching the way Clementine’s brows raise in surprise, a hearty laugh coming from the girl as she lets out a smile the blonde is rather curious about.

Though this might be a bad thing…

“Well I’ll be damned. Take a swig, it’ll get your mind off of whatever troubles you’ve run into before you idiots met me.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Sophie asks, partially amused as Clementine didn’t even take a sip of alcohol yet and here she was already speaking her mind. Though if she was honest, she didn’t really know what else to expect.

“Considering you knocked me out with a bat and I’ve still got this bandage on my head, I think I get a pass.”

Sophie rolled her eyes amusedly, watching as Violet takes a quick sip of the drink. Handing it back just as quickly as she coughs and sputters against the liquid burning at the back of her throat.

“Damn!-“ Violet coughs, unable to see the amused look on the two girls’ faces as she rubs at her stinging eyes. “That shit burns!”

“Yeah, that’s the whole point.” Clementine grins, taking a swig herself as she has a similar initial reaction, but not to the extent of Violet’s.

“When you said it takes the edge off I didn’t expect it to literally start a fire in my throat.”

“That’s the entire point.” Clementine grins, taking another swig as her face almost contorts with regret over it...almost. “Let’s you forget about the bad because of the sweet taste it brings.”

“Sweet? Since when is the taste of pain sweet?”

Clementine merely shrugs, leaning back against an old chair as her amber eyed scan the ceiling above. Looking to the plastered and boring landscape above her as she wonders what monsters must be looking for them within the outside. Those she knows have been dead for a while, and those that need to be killed before they get a chance to get their hands across any metallic trigger. Her glance moves over to the two girls nearby as she wonders what hellscape they must’ve been through as well, especially if they deemed going out to another one for a chance to get someone they cared about back a worthy cause.

But Clementine has to admit, she knows all too well of what that was like. And while a part of her wonders if she should even be caring about these two, the other knows the pain of being able to hold out that small amount of hope for someone...only for it to end horribly.

Clementine just doesn’t know if it’ll end the same for these teens either…

“Clementine? You still with us?” Comes a voice from across her as Clementine turns back to them. Her eyes adjusting to the small amount of light as she notices the redhead looking worriedly at her. Eyeing her bandage specifically.

“I’m fine…just...thinking is all.”

“Oh.” Sophie looks on quizzically, almost as if she didn’t exactly believe that answer. “Your head doing okay.”

“Yeah...yeah.” Clementine mutters, wishing they could stop asking how she was doing for a moment. Even if it seemed sparse, she didn’t really like it in the first place.

It reminded her too much of the past. Something Clementine wanted to stray as far away as she could. Even if it was difficult. Even if she wanted to not care about any of it, even if…

Even if it simply hurt to do any of that.

“Alright.” Sophie nods, almost as if she saw through the small facade Clementine had been putting up. Choosing not to delve deeper into the shattered survivor’s mind within the eclipsing night ahead of them. Full of uncertainties. Of worries and of the unknown.

But what would their world be without that anyway? Clementine didn’t know, nor care for any of it. Knowing she was practically on a delivery mission for these two. That she’d get her blade to Lilly’s throat soon enough.

And whatever happened after? She didn’t care to plan for. She just wanted her last goal to end well. Hoping that maybe...it could.

But hope was a strong thing the brunette found herself rather incapable of bow. Remembering the last time she hoped for something it’d either been for AJ’s life...or for her own death in a moment of despair.

She couldn’t have either if that now. Not to the extremes it’d roving her to before.

She just had to be..melancholic.

The brunette looks up as Violet‘s attention is drawn to little things around the room. Her gaze dazed and almost blurred as Clementine can’t help but snicker. Unsure if it’d been the alcohol that was supposed to help earlier or not...but it sure had to be kicking in now as she almost chuckles at the blonde’s confusion ahead of her.

“What...the fuck...was in that drink.”

“Alcohol. Dumbass.”

“No shhhit.” She slurs, catching herself amidst it as she nearly snorts at herself. Knowing she hadn’t even had that much to begin with and was practically sounding like someone who’d had an entire six pack instead. But soon she didn’t even care for that either, instead looking towards Clementine and Sophie over and over again. A confused expression on her face even if she wasn’t exactly drunk, she didn’t have the glances of someone who looked sober either, though it was quite obvious she was, maybe the lack of sleep and the intake of alcohol had made for an interesting combination.

“So...this whole grand plan of yours we already agreed with.” She pauses, almost like she was determining if maybe she should have another drink or not, or how this might just end up. “You’re just gonna...what? Up and kill Lilly?”

Sophie looks over as well, a forlorn expression across her face as she remembers some of her time at Delta as well. And how Minerva might be faring herself.

Clementine merely leans back, taking another slow and slightly regretful swig of her drink. “Yup. She’ll figure out every bit of what she’s done to me. And I’m gonna make her pay. She doesn’t deserve to be here anymore...and I should’ve known that from the beginning.”

“Like...when they found or captured you?”

“No...no.” She sighs, leaning over as she places an arm on her knee, adjusting her cap and bandage once more before looking into the green eyes ahead of her. A serious and remembrance of an expression Violet could only watch ahead. “I knew her from the beginning. The very beginning.”

Sophie nearly spits out her food, coughing momentarily as it erupts through the shelled room. Looking back with a confused and almost betrayed expression across her face.

“Wait what?! If you knew her from the beginning, why in the hell would you have gone along with her o-or went with her to Delta?!”

Clementine remains unphased by Sophie’s outburst, instead leaning back as she looks to the old knife on the desk. Her gaze not moving as she explains herself.

“When I lost AJ, I didn’t care if it was over or what would happen to me. I wasn’t thinking about the consequences when Lilly found me...only when I found out the truth about everything did it all make sense...and that changed many of my plans.”

“Why didn’t you just...you know...kill her when you first found out?”

“That wasn’t my priority then...I hated her and I was so angry...but I couldn’t take it out then. Not when I didn’t have time to think to myself or be on my own and free...now that I do? I know what I need to do...and what I want to do.”

Sophie seems to pause at that. Remembering the rules of her old military self and what she could and couldn’t do. And while she certainly has many, many questions about it...she’s content for now. Knowing that Clementine wasn’t just an escapee with her history.

But that didn’t mean she agreed with her plan. Only with the part of them possibly getting Minerva out of it all.

“Like I was saying...we were part of an old group back when this whole thing started. She was with her dad—some racist asshole, and when he died...she lost it. Killed a member of our group like she was nothing. Over something she accused her of...and it just didn’t end well. So we left her behind.”

“Sounds like she’s only gotten worse since then.” Violet adds, wary of her words as Clementine only nods, glancing back up towards the old ceiling again as she watches the way the dust falls on them. Slowly and precariously as nothing else is in the room around them. Empty from the life and the dead that’d tried to kill them just before.

As her mind roams to listen to the rain storm that still downpours as it had the previous night. She thinks back to what she’s doing. Knowing that if she couldn’t trust or believe Lee’s words anymore in a world like this...she had no one to turn to. No one but herself in her own empty sight of the world around her. How the cities were the same as the forests or the bloodied tunnels and rooms she found herself within now. Listening to the way droplets that were leaking in from the surface slowly dropped into a slightly growing puddle. Combining with the blood in a thick mixture that Clementine was too used to seeing.

Her attention is drawn from what is left as she shakily leans back again. Hoping to rid herself of such intense thoughts and reminiscents by instead falling into a dreamless and imageless slumber. Even with the two nearby open to see it, she couldn’t care less of what they might think of her apparent emotions...even if she didn’t want those to matter to herself, either.

It was all too complicated for a teen like her. To get delved into the caverns of collocation towards their possible demise like so many others before her. She just didn’t care...or didn’t want to at the very least.

Everything Lee had taught her had nearly been proven wrong. Everything he told her conflicted with Lilly. But Lilly’s teachings may have been false as well after what she’d done to AJ. To her. Her mind was in a hedge maze of teachings and lessons she couldn’t pick from. Confusing them into a worsened mixture than the blood and rain nearby. Knowing that her own mind was becoming blank, but not open for anything new. What looked to be a blank canvas was only painted in shades of gray and white that would cloud everything she’d soon come across.

Even new and kind people. Still wary of their trust in her and her trust in them...or lack thereof. While she’d shared a drink with them, it certainly didn’t stop Bonnie, Mike, or Arvo from betraying her too. Leaving an old wound through her shoulder on both the front and back. And though there were scars littered up her back now, that one indented one that’d shrapnel outwards into the ugly crater it was now certainly didn’t help her case of looking as innocent as she’d been back in the days with her Brooklyn hoodie and radio.

She only knew she’d been fucking up since the start. On a downward hill and avalanche that was waiting to collect her as well. And her latest victim was AJ...but she only hoped that would change. With either two possibilities she’d accept.

It was her or Lilly. That was the end goal. One of them would have to be caught in the rapids now. She was done with it all and wanted a conclusion. Not a new start or some midway passage she could fix like she did back at The New Frontier, but something she could collude upon and finally get something determinant to her own testament as a force of nature.

And whether Sophie and Violet would be a part of that or would be caught in the crossfires of any of their violence they’d collide within soon? Clementine didn’t know. She didn’t know what Minerva would do with them. Or with her for that matter. Only knowing that any of them could die at any moment. And while she didn’t exactly want the two girls to, she knew that if she couldn’t prevent it, she shouldn’t guilt herself over it. But that was simply easier said than done.

She drifts off on that note, remembering those she still had picture perfect memories of. Neutral in terms instead of the good times or bad. As her memory and dream of neutrality was simply as grey as her morals, and her spirits.

It wasn’t long before a certain green eyed girl notices that slumber had fallen upon the brunette. Her gaze lingering momentarily with worry and pity she wouldn’t dare let the amber eyed girl catch her within. A look of compassion washes across her features, as she notices Sophie do the same.

There’s a soft and discontent sigh from the redhead. “What the hell has that girl been through.”

“I have no idea.” Violet says, rounding out her words with a sharp edge to them like the slick of a knife. “But it must’ve been terrifying.”

“Even before Delta...that girl’s been through the ringer. Meaning we might have to be even more careful about everything. And while I wish whatever experience she had at Delta and everything beforehand was comforting and gave me confidence for what we’re going to do? I’m just worried she’s a ticking time bomb.

Violet nods, knowing that Minerva might be worse off. And that their symbols of trust were practically gone or broken, and certainly contained some sort of worry for what would occur to them as well. But they’d already signed up for a mission like this. And Violet certainly wasn’t stupid or cowardly. Instead stubborn with a taped boot down to protect her ankles from the potential walkers that’d like to grab her foot for a treat within their mangled and decrepit jaws. Much like the ones Violet only hopes the people who hurt those she cared about would soon become.

And while she didn’t know if she could do anything like that herself, she had no doubt that Clementine—or Sophie for that matter, would if necessary. And while it was slightly reassuring, like Sophie had mentioned earlier. The two had been soldiers. Child soldiers for that matter. Betrayed and somehow escaped whatever horrors they experienced out wherever Delta truly was...and how that changed either of them? How it truly made them see the world different? Violet didn’t know. And she didn’t know if she wanted to either. For war was simply never something she’d think anyone would get involved in when the world was practically ending. But everywhere she turned people were being dragged into one.

And now she was being dragged into a coup and rescue mission towards one of the main fighters. Towards an unknown place and towards people with harsh and deadly intentions. Certainly sounded more dangerous than being out with a walker herd surrounding them or in some precarious situation out within a high school and some locker confrontation. Or being drunk at a party.

Instead, Violet was tipsy from a small shot-like sip of an unknown drink in an abandoned and bloodied room full of the dead. Those who’d died twice, and those who’d been lucky and only had to experience it once.

Yes, this was certainly better than some stupid high school drama.

Can’t wait to see how I might die. Violet jokes to herself. Gun, knife, explosion, even someone’s fucking fists. Oh! Maybe I’ll fall like I nearly did in that glass, or even get bitten by a damn walker. Might as well just smash my head with Chairles.

She almost laughs at her own joke as she notices Sophie’s amused look. The two had awkwardly drifted off from their conversation anyway, and nothing around them had even changed before Violet finds herself in the socially awkward aura that was literally anything other than where she was now.

Guess she still had the problems of an average teen

“What?” She asks, raising a brow and trying to look relatively annoyed towards the twin, who only audibly giggles as her light blue eyes seem to sparkle so much they dance around the room.

“You’re daydreaming again.”

“It isn’t daydreaming if it’s at night.”

“Well you aren’t sleeping, what else am I gonna call it?”

“I dunno, imagining?”

“Imagining.” Sophie snorts. “Like that doesn’t sound fucking stupid.”

“At least it’s better than Louis’s jokes.” Violet grins.

“Is it though? Is that really true?” Sophie teases, lingering on the end sound as Violet genuinely looks mildly offended at her comment. Wondering if maybe she was right. Something so small could definitely be one of Violet’s worst nightmares instead.

“Better fucking be.” Violet crosses her arms, almost surprised that Clementine hasn’t even stirred at the noise. Especially if she was practically a hardened soldier who’d wake at the sound of a walker or human.

Maybe she was up in general. Definitely a situation violet could imagine occurring, and a possibility it truly was occurring now. But she wasn’t going to test and check to see if the sleeping lion was awake now was she?

No, Violet isn’t that dumb anyway. She knew that. Sophie knew that. Hell, Clementine probably knew that.

Didn’t mean she didn’t think about doing it however. As she almost moved to actually do such a thing, before realizing what the very real consequences might be because of it. Which could possibly end in what? Death? At the very beginning? She wasn’t too thrilled of that being an idea when there were very real threats they’d have to encounter and get through. Dying at the start by the person who’s literally leading them there seemed ridiculous. Something she’d think Louis would do. Not her.

But that didn’t mean she wasn’t at least curious about it. Wondering that if Clementine wasn’t asleep, what she’d just thought of their conversation that’d relatively involved her, or if she even got any sleep at all. None of them looked like it at least, so it was rather hard to tell.

“Violet.” Sophie calls again. “You’re doing it again.”

“Shit, sorry. Sorry.” She grins, turning in place to curl up to keep some warmth within the room. “We should probably just get some sleep.”

“Good idea for once, blondie.” Sophie smirks, leaning back momentarily to stretch her legs out. “Have no idea when we’ll be getting up, anyway. But if we’re heading near the old bridge? Might be early because of how long of a walk that’ll be.”

“Let’s just hope we aren’t thrown off that bridge for whatever crazy idea she’s had since we found that torn up guy.”

“Yeah…we’ll watch out for each other, no matter what it is. Okay, Vi?”

“Always. At least the fact that there’s two of us helps me keep you two in line and in check.”

“In line? We’ve saved your ass more than once.” She giggles tiredly, looking to Violet and back to Clementine momentarily. “But something tells me all eyes wil need to be on her, just in case.”

Violet looks over as the conversation partially dies down. How Clementine’s assumed sleeping form hadn’t moved still as she was facing the couch. Maybe imagining some scenarios herself or some sort of route they’d end up taking soon. And all Violet could think of was everything that could possibly go wrong along the way.

“Maybe we do…”

#twdg #the walking dead game #twdg tfs #tfs #twdg clementine #twdg violet #twdg season 4 #twdg sophie #twd #the walking dead game the final season #adversary #violentine #clementine x violet

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