#luke tries to hold Lee and gets immediately bit.

[pain-is-too-tired]

Gonna ramble about the fantasy au(one with fae!Lee and Were-coyote!Luke) cause our air's out and need distraction gdtdf

The gods here are instead called Lords. They immortal being of different types, most often the first of their kind.

Kronos was an immortal king/lord that had been dethroned. At some point his form destroyed.

Apollo, and his kids, are Sun Fae. They can shift between two sizes(deemed common size/form, and smaller size/form) and usually are most comfortable living together with their siblings. They're tight nit and very protective.

Hermes' kids are usually were-coyotes or were-foxes. It's more ambiguous which Hermes is.

Sunfae have been hunted down and gone missing. Leaving very few left. Apollo is furiously calling for action but Zeus continues to decline it in fear of worse retaliation.

Most of the other lords are on Apollo's side.

Luke's joined Kronos side out of bitterness towards his father. Been too wrapped up in his own bubble to think too hard on actions done.

Lee of course takes care of his remaining siblings, and the loses have made him completely bitter towards Kronos' army, and Luke.

During an attack Lee stays to buy time for his siblings to get away and find shelter with the Were- Dragons (Charles told Lee his father would be willing to let them stay in their cave if need be) and gets captured.

By then, Kronos has returned to normal form and Luke manages to convince him to keep Lee alive.

Luke tries to talk with Lee like nothing's change. Lee is so done with it.

He can in fact bite. He will in fact bite. They have a angry Sunfae in their hold they really should've expected that.

[thunder-at-dawn]

13 with willex? you can choose who’s the lee and the ler :)

anon i love this pairing, i love this prompt, and i love you for requesting it /p

word count: 1,170

prompt list can be found here!

prompt 13: "don't laugh while i'm trying to talk to you!"

warning: this is a sfw tickle fic! don't read if that makes you uncomfortable :]

Alex tapped a drumstick lightly on the cymbal of his drumstick, bored out of his mind. Luke was following Julie to school to “ask her something important,” and Reggie wanted to eavesdrop. Alex, on the other hand, wanted to respect their privacy. That, and he honestly didn’t have much interest. So, instead, he told himself he’d just stay in the garage and practice… but he didn’t want to. Practicing without the whole band there just felt… off.

He had tried to play a few songs, but they felt incomplete without Reggie’s chill bass notes, Luke’s killer guitar riffs, and Julie’s angelic vocals. Alex fiddled with the drumsticks in his hands, unsure what to do. A four wheeled car couldn’t run when only one wheel was attached to it.

However, when your car needs another wheel, you can attach a spare tire if you had one. It wasn’t the exact same as the other tires on the vehicle, but it would still work in place. Little did he know, there was a spare tire lying around.

“Boo.”

Alex jumped in place when he felt two cold hands on his shoulders, a gasp coming out of his mouth as he felt his heart beat faster. He turned around in his seat, a half-groan coming out of his mouth. “Hello, Willie.”

Willie, who was smiling like a puppy that just got adopted from the shelter, giggled softly and rested his arms on Alex’s shoulders. “Hi, babe.” He said, planting a soft kiss on the other’s cheek before looking around. “The rest of the band is busy today, huh?”

“Yup, and I was bored out of my mind a few moments ago.” Alex stood up, holding Willie’s hand. “And now, you’re here, so I don’t have to worry about that.” He smiled softly, focusing his energy to poof them up to the loft balcony below. Once they teleported, Alex noticed a leather jacket on the floor, picking it up.

“Looks like Reggie forgot his jacket… again.” He sighed, picking it up and hanging it up on the coat hanger behind him.

“Is that common?” Willie asked, crossing his arms and sitting down in one of the bean bags on the loft.

“Yes, very common.” The drummer groaned. “Reggie always leaves his stuff around on the floor. Even before we died, he’d always do it back in the day. I always tell him to pick it up, and he passes it off, saying he’ll do it later, and he never does. Luke’s even worse, he leaves all of his stuff everywhere, and-“ Alex paused, taking a look at the smile on Willie’s face. “What? Why are you smiling?”

“No reason.” The skateboarder smirked, crossing his arms.

“No reason? There’s definitely a reason.”

“I’m telling you, there’s no reason! No reason at all.”

“Right. Yeah. Totally. Of course, there’s no rea- AH!” Alex yelled when he felt a pair or arms wrap around him and lift him off the ground slightly. He turned around when set down, only to be greeted with the laughing perpetrator. “Reggie!”

The bassist, who had seemingly teleported behind him while Alex was ranting, laughed and clutched his stomach. “Hehey, Alehex! I got you good, didn’t I!” He giggled as the other rolled his eyes. “Thanks for not ratting be out, Willie.”

“No problem.” Willie chuckled, happy to take part in a bit of mischief.

“Did you seriously come back just to scare me?” Alex asked, crossing his arms.

“Yep! And it was totally worth it.” Reggie giggled.

“Oh, wait.” As much as Alex wanted to stay mad at Reggie, he still cared for his friends. He headed to the coat hanger, picking up the jacket he had just put on there. “You forgot your-“

It was too late. Reggie had already poofed out and teleported elsewhere.

“…Jacket.” Alex finished, sighing and putting the jacket back on the coat hanger. He looked over to see Willie giggling softly, and couldn’t help but smile. He walked over and sat down on the beanbag next to his.

“You thought that was funny, huh?” He lightheartedly groaned at his boyfriend.

“Ihi’m sorry!” Willie said with a grin. “You know I’m always one for some mischief! And seeing the look on your face was definitely worth it.”

Alex could feel heat rising up in his cheeks, and he didn’t know if it was because he was embarrassed, or if it was because Willie was just so fucking cute. Willie was certain to notice, leaning his head back and laughing loudly.

“Willie-“

“Oh cohome on, it was fuhunny!”

“Willie, don’t laugh while I’m trying to talk to you!”

“Ihi’m sorry, Ihi’m sorry!” He giggled. “It’s just… you’re so cute when you get annoyed with me.”

If Alex thought he wasn’t blushing before, he was definitely blushing now. He looked away for a second, unsure why he felt this flustered and embarrassed. “W-Well, you’re cute too.” He stammered out, immediately covering his face with his hand.

“Awww, thanks hotdog.” Willie grinned.

Suddenly, Alex had an idea. He took a deep breath to calm his nerves, moving his beanbag closer to Willie. “Actually, you’re cuter than me. And I’ll prove it to you.”

“And how to you plan to do that?” An entertained Willie leaned towards his boyfriend.

“Well… since you seem to like to laugh so much…” Alex smirked, quickly pulling Willie towards him and wiggling fingers into his ribs. The other’s giggles immediately escalated, not even trying to hide themselves.

“WaHAhait- Ahahalehex!” Willie giggled, squirming around, but not necessarily trying to squirm out of his boyfriend’s grasp.

“What’s up, Willie? Why are you laughing so much? Can you tell me?” Alex teased, moving his fingers up to scribble around in the other’s underarms.

“Yohohou knohow whyhy!”

“Well, actually, no, I don’t because you’re not telling me.”

“Meheheahan!” Willie laughed softly.

“Mean? You think I’m being mean? I can’t believe you!” Alex faked a gasp and pulled Willie closer to him, moving his hands back down to dance around his ribs. He didn’t want to go extremely tough, but he did crank up the intensity a small bit, smiling as he heard Willie’s laughter rise a bit in volume. At the same time, he started to plant tickley kisses all over Willie’s neck and cheeks.

“AhaHAlehex!” He scrunched up his shoulders on instinct, laughing softly. The drummer eventually slowed down, letting Willie catch his breath.

“Yohohou’re suhuch a dohork.” Willie giggled softly.

“And you’re adorable.” Alex smiled, leaning down and giving his boyfriend a kiss on the forehead.

“So are you.”

“Well, I’m not the one who giggles like a child whenever he gets kissed.” Alex chuckled.

“Is that a challenge?” Willie raised an eyebrow, quickly pushing himself off of Alex’s lap.

“I-” Alex blushed once more, leaning back into the beanbag he was sitting in. “No, it’s noHOT-”

He was cut off by being pulled into Willie’s lap, wrapped into a hug, and small kisses being planted on his face.

His earlier statement was proven wrong instantly.

[thaliagrayce]

The Innocent Can Never Last

here’s the ao3 link if you wanna stop by!

Her roots were just barely starting to show. She leaned over the shitty drugstore pocket mirror she had propped against the windowsill above her sleeping bag and pulled some of her short hair straight up, squinting at the half centimeter of blond that had crept up underneath the black. She would have to dye it again soon, but it was almost a miracle that it was only half a centimeter. Her hair used to grow a lot faster, before she was a tree.

Whatever. Maybe this meant it was time to finally get that buzz cut she’d always wanted; she would have enough time enough to enjoy the way the short dark hair looked on her head before it grew out blond again. For now, though, all she did was ruffle her hand through it to cover the blond as well as she could and made sure her eyeliner was properly smudged before getting out of her makeshift bed.

She ignored the haphazard stack of orange t-shirts piled next to her duffel bag that some Hermes camper had brought her the first week she’d been there. Changing in the middle of the day felt kinda stupid, but it meant that she’d already checked off her Camp Spirit for the day. Nobody could tell her to change. Today was a black tank top kind of day, anyway. The last thing she grabbed before leaving was the dark blue UC Berkeley drawstring bag she’d kept with her on the road, torn in a few places and with half the yellow logo faded to illegibility. Its contents clanked as she threw it over her shoulder and pushed the door open.

The late afternoon heat of July hit her without mercy as soon as she opened the cabin door, and she had to screw her eyes shut against the force of the sunlight. It felt like a completely different world out here, with kids yelling to each other from across the basketball courts and chasing each other around with swords and screaming when they fell off the climbing wall. The inside of the Zeus cabin must have been soundproofed, because it always felt so cut off from the rest of camp—you couldn’t hear anything but the rumble of thunder from in those walls. Maybe Zeus just didn’t like sharing the spotlight.

Changing into a black shirt started to sound like a bad idea in retrospect halfway to the infirmary, but she didn’t let that deter her. She’d worn nothing but hospital gowns and orange shirts since she woke up two weeks ago, and stupid heat and sunlight wouldn’t ruin her first day of freedom.

Some son of Apollo she recognized was leaving the infirmary just as she got to the door. She nodded at him, trying and failing to remember his name. There were so many people here. She hadn’t really had to learn anyone’s name in years—not anyone that mattered, anyway—and now she was presented with at least five new people every day.

And they all wore orange. She’d had an almost constant headache from all the color when she first woke up, which really didn’t help her memory or attention span.

The infirmary was almost empty when she got there, just a couple campers tidying up. Two sharp raps to the doorframe drew their attention to her.

“Fletcher. You got the goods?”

Lee Fletcher was the eldest camper in the room, a skinny dark-skinned boy with dreads tied back in a ponytail and a smile sunny enough to announce his parentage without need to be claimed. He was one of the only people whose name Thalia had actually learned since she woke up. He had been the one in charge of monitoring Thalia during the week that she’d spent stuck in the infirmary, and she was still trying to figure out how to properly say ‘thank you for keeping me alive and sane even after I punched you in the face’.

“You owe me for this, you know.” Lee grinned at her and held up one finger in a ‘one second’ gesture, then jogged to his bag in the corner. While he shuffled around in it, Thalia shrugged her bag off her shoulders.

“I had to cash in a favor with Travis Stoll for this. You know how much those are worth?”

“He’s one of the Hermes ones, right?” Thalia stepped into the room and leaned against the wall. “Just tell him it was for me, then he’ll have something on the new kid. You’ll be fine.”

“Here we go!” He straightened up and crossed the room to her, holding out a smuggled CD case. “Brand new, pristine condition. Come back to me when you realize Nimrod is child’s play.”

She took the case and immediately wanted the album art on a pin to add to her jacket—a white hand holding on to a red heart-shaped grenade. Nice. She wouldn’t admit that to Lee yet, though.

“Come on. You’ve heard Nimrod, right? How can you be so confident I’m gonna like this one more?”

“Because Good Riddance is the only song worth remembering on the entire album. Just trust me, American Idiot is gonna blow you away.”

She smirked at him and shoved the CD into her bag. “We’ll see about that. Thanks for getting this for me.”

“No problem. Once you’re done with that, I’m gonna introduce you to My Chemical Romance” He crossed his arms and leaned back against the wall next to her, sighing with a bittersweet smile. “It’s just nice to have someone else around who has good taste in music again.”

The since Luke left went unsaid, but hung like a summer thunderstorm in the silence after his words. Thalia looked down at her hands, at the few freckles dotting her knuckles and fresh black nail polish she and Annabeth had applied together yesterday. The two of them had spent an hour sitting together like that, painting each other’s nails while Annabeth quizzed Thalia about important global events that had happened while she was out and people she should probably know going forward. It wasn’t hard to imagine him here with them if she thought about it, which is why she didn’t let herself think about it.

Life was simpler when she was a tree.

Lee cleared his throat and uncrossed his arms, tapping the wall behind him twice before pushing off of it. “I, uh, gotta get back to work. You think you’ll start listening before dinner?”

She looked up at him and smiled, but even she could tell it didn’t reach her eyes. “Oh yeah. I’ll have a full analysis double-spaced and printed for you by six.” Lee huffed a laugh, and she considered that to be a step forward. Awkward atmosphere who? She could have more than two friends.

“Good. I can’t wait to hear your thoughts.”

She sent a wave over her shoulder as she stepped out and made a mental note to talk to him about the album tomorrow. She liked Lee. She wanted to be his friend and was determined to put in the work to make sure that happened, but she wasn’t going to be at dinner tonight. There were more important things on her agenda than team dinner.

The sun was hanging a little closer to the horizon now; not close to sunset yet, but the heat had lost its intensity. She had to get a move on.

Campers stared at her when she was out and about sometimes, which really wasn’t her favorite thing. She’d had enough unwanted attention from the public to last a few lifetimes already. Usually people cared about the other parent, though. The Hephaestus kid coming out of the forge probably didn’t even know who Beryl Grace was, let alone see her wide blue eyes and signature smile on Thalia’s face.

It wasn’t much better, but at least being a child of Zeus came with power. The stare she got now wasn’t just curiosity, it was respect.

She stared down the Hephaestus kid as she walked past, and they had the decency to look embarrassed about staring. Good.

She got halfway to the dining pavilion before she was interrupted again.

“Thalia!”

Annabeth was taller than her now, which didn’t feel like something that should be allowed. When she bounded over to Thalia, all smiles and curls and bright orange t-shirt, Thalia actually had to look up to meet her eyes.  It was strange. She had started to think of Annabeth as a little sister somewhere along the road, and when she woke up again, she realized she had missed—six? Seven?—years of Annabeth’s life. That hit her harder than any years of her own life she had missed. As far as Thalia was concerned, she had died at age twelve and been resurrected at age fifteen and that was that.

But Annabeth was tall now, and smiling at her. Thalia smiled back, real despite the mood she had slipped into since leaving Lee. It wasn’t hard.

“Annabeth! How you doing? Where’s Percy?” The boy was usually two steps behind Annabeth, or she was two steps behind him, and they were usually bickering loud enough for half the camp to be able to make an informed decision on whose side they would take if asked.

Annabeth made a face at his name, but she also blushed a bit. Thalia bit back her smirk. The kid tried, but she couldn’t hide her true emotions for anything. She liked to pretend she didn’t drag him around everywhere, but Thalia had only been back for two weeks and it was already a little weird to not see them together.

“I don’t know, doing Percy things? We’re not attached at the hip, you know.” She flicked her ponytail over her shoulder, and Thalia watched it bounce.

That was another thing. Her hair was long now. The day after Thalia woke up, Annabeth had come to sit with her in the infirmary, just to be with her for a while and drink in each other’s presence. Thalia had reached out a hand and touched one of her curls, tugging it a little and watching it bounce back to join the rest. When she had looked at Annabeth’s face again, she had tears in her eyes and a wobbly smile on her mouth.

“It suits you,” Thalia had said. It was true. Annabeth looked so much happier now, so much more confident. She looked as proud as Thalia felt.

Now, tan and tall and comfortable enough to be blushing in the sunlight, it was clear that this place had become her home in the years Thalia had been gone. For a moment, she was hit with how much she had missed.

“We should get our ears pierced together.”

Annabeth blinked at her in surprise. She might have been talking while Thalia wandered into nostalgialand.

“But you already have pierced ears.”

Of course she had pierced ears, she’d grown up with a famous mother who cared more about her baby’s image than the person behind it. Thalia had pierced ears since before she could talk. She also remembered Annabeth being transfixed by her earrings when she thought Thalia wasn’t looking on the road, though. Thalia had missed seven years and hadn’t been able to support Annabeth through most aspects of her transition, but this was something she could be around for.

“I want a double piercing, we should go together.” Thalia squared her shoulders and crossed her arms, looking at Annabeth with challenge in her eyes. “Unless you’re afraid of needles, of course.”

Annabeth bristled, which was exactly what Thalia had been hoping for.

“I’ve faced fully-grown cyclopes and a boat full of angry monsters and the Lord of the Dead himself. I think I can handle one needle.”

“Good. We can sneak out later this week.”

“Or,” Annabeth corrected, “we could wait for September. Chiron told me to find you, he said he snagged a spot for you at the boarding school I’m going to this fall. It’ll be a lot easier to get into the city from school.”

Thalia immediately felt lighter, like a weight she hadn’t even known was there suddenly lifted from her shoulders. A week ago, Chiron had broken it to her that she probably had to stay at camp all year round because of how strong her aura was. She’d been going to the Big House every morning to train with the Mist, but he made sure her hopes didn’t get too high—she needed to get good good before she would be able to safely leave camp.

“For real? He actually said that?”

“Yep! We won’t be roommates, but we’ll be in the same dorm. It’ll be super easy to find me if something goes wrong.”

That meant less of Annabeth’s life that she had to miss because she was sidelined. More time when she could just exist with her little sister, learn who she had become in Thalia’s absence. Learn who she would grown into.

“Sick, you can help me study. I haven’t been to school since I was like seven.”

Annabeth laughed at that. “Neither have I, this is gonna be an interesting year.”

One of Annabeth’s sisters ran over to get her after that, something about an argument about beach volleyball rules getting a little too heated. Names were called, swords were drawn. That seemed like a pretty common occurrence here, though, so Annabeth hadn’t looked too worried as she hugged Thalia and said goodbye. The sun was dipping a little closer to the setting point, anyway. Thalia was running out of time.

A few dryads were setting up the dining pavilion for dinner by the time she got there. If she didn’t want to be stuck waiting for everyone else, she had to be sneaky about how she got her shit. Luckily for her, living on the streets for your formative years was a pretty good way to learn how to get in and out of a place undetected.

The first trick was knowing exactly what you were going to take before you went in to get it. She skirted around to the back of the pavilion and hid behind a column. The table farthest from her held a huge bowl of peaches—easily bruised but still easily grabbable. Closer by, a dryad with stick-straight brown hair wheeled a big dish that kinda looked like a boat with a cover out on a cart, and Thalia dismissed that immediately. Nothing portable was kept in a container like that—it was probably pasta night, or some kind of soup or something. Unless she wanted to ruin her bag and everything in it, that wasn’t an option.

More than one peach, then. That was fine. There was a big basket of fresh rolls next to the probably-pasta, and they smelled good. She’d had worse meals than fresh bread and peaches before.

The second trick was confidence. If you looked like you knew what you were doing, you were a lot less likely to be stopped while you did it. Thalia waited until the dryad had gone back into the kitchens, then walked out from her hiding spot with her shoulders set and her posture relaxed. Carefully casual. She managed to get to the bread and stick three rolls into her bag without drawing any attention at all.

Walking toward the peaches put her directly in the path of another dryad, though. She was just headed out of the kitchens, carrying a platter of still-steaming brownies. She blinked at Thalia twice, and her green eyebrows drew together in confusion.

“It’s not time to eat yet, what are you doing back here?”

Confidence, she reminded herself.

“I was sent here.” Confident statement, confident tone. She was doing great.

The dryad narrowed her eyes. “Oh, really? By who? Why?”

Maybe confidence only worked if you had the conviction to back it up. She thought briefly about just getting out of there, but then she remembered that she was getting daily lessons in bullshitting other people. This was a harmless enough reason; she was sure the nymph would understand, and Chiron would probably be fine with her practicing at camp.

Probably.

She breathed in through her nose and thought of what the dryad saw: some punk teenager trying to sneak food before dinner. There had been a moment of recognition, though, right before the suspicion set in. She knew who Thalia was.

Thalia waved her hand in the air, disguising it as adjusting one of the straps on her shoulder. She put both breath and intention behind her words, and prayed to her father that it would actually work.

“I’m sorry, I don’t mean to get in your way. I can’t eat with the rest of the campers for medical reasons tonight. I won’t be much of a hassle, I’m just going to grab a peach before the crowd gets here and I can’t leave.”

The dryad blinked. Her eyes went a little hazy, which immediately filled Thalia with equal parts elation and guilt. It had worked, but she had just preyed on this woman’s kindness. The fact that the words were mostly true was a bit of consolation, at least.

“Of course. Take a brownie, too. I hope you feel better soon.”

She felt bad, but not bad enough to not take a brownie. They smelled fantastic.

After that, she had no trouble getting at the peaches and slipping a few of them into her bag. As she walked away, she heard the squeaking of wheels and the clinking of plates—the harpies had come in to set the tables. She’d gotten out just in time.

Now she just had to get across camp without being noticed and pulled in with the dinner rush. Cutting through the middle of the cabins was the most direct route, but it was also guaranteed to get her seen by well-intentioned curious eyes. She eyed the amphitheater. Going around the far end of that would take more time and would take her closer to the magical camp border than she should go, but it was also the most hidden option. It was probably fine. She had her shield, she had a butterfly knife in her pocket. She took the long route.

As she was skirting around the raised seating, a laugh carried up from the stage—someone must have been using it. The laugh stopped her cold, pulse running wild. Her brain knew that it wasn’t Luke, it couldn’t have been Luke, but—

“Cut it out, Trav! I have a reputation!”

There it was again, the laugh. She swallowed past the lump in her throat, ignored the sudden heat behind her eyes. Of course. The Stolls. It really was incredible how similar siblings could be.

“What reputation, dude? You snorted chocolate milk out your nose last week.”

Thalia hiked her bag further up on her shoulder and walked faster. She’d been stupid. Luke wasn’t here, and it would be a serious threat if he was. She knew that.

She still wasn’t sure if her reaction had been happiness, fear, anger, or a fucked up mix of all of them.

Finally, the giant pine peeked out from the other side of the amphitheater. She gave the entrance a wide berth, not wanting to be seen and not wanting to hear anything more. She focused on the silhouette of the tree against the sky.  Even after two full weeks, it felt wrong to look at it from the outside. Like looking down at her hand but not recognizing it as her own.

As she got closer, she closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She’d never cared about the scent of pine trees before she’d become one, but now she found herself missing it. She’d technically lived in a pine tree for longer than she’d ever lived almost anywhere else, and her memories of Beryl’s house were both distant and stressful. Cedar, fir, and juniper were the first scents she thought of when she heard the word “home”. Demigod life might be confusing and she might be completely out of the loop, but at least this tree was, too. She could breathe easier as she approached.

The baby dragon that had gotten there earlier that week—Peleus—lifted his head as she got closer, but lowered it again immediately when he saw who it was. The rest of the camp was still pretty uneasy around him, but Thalia didn’t quite get it. He was about the size of a Great Dane and just as affectionate as one, if he trusted you.

He didn’t trust a lot of people yet, though. He knew that Argus was the guy that brought him food and Chiron was the one who clopped away in a funny way if you sneezed fire, so they were okay, but the rest of camp was on thin ice.

He’d never minded Thalia, though. She kind of thought he still recognized her as part of the tree, or maybe he recognized the tree as part of her. Whatever. The dragon loved her, which felt pretty damn good. She patted his head once as she passed his napping spot, and he rumbled something that sounded like a purr but much, much deeper.

She took off her bag and sat heavily on the other side of the trunk, staring out over the forest at the almost-setting sun. In the distance, the conch shell sounded, followed by a loud bang from somewhere around the armory. Probably one of the Hephaestus kids experimenting for the fireworks show. It wouldn’t be for another few days, but camp had been plagued by random crashes and explosions all week. She was getting better at not reacting, getting more used to this camp and all of its eccentricities.

She took the beat-up blue CD player out of her bag, the only relic she still had from her time at home. She’d left Beryl Grace’s house with a duffel bag full of clothes, an entire loaf of bread, a block of cheese, and her trusty CD player. Back then, she only had a Wham! CD that some well-meaning friend of her mother had given her, something that she’d lost somewhere between Montana and Wyoming. The big black over-the-ear headphones that she pulled out next were more recent, but still pretty old by current standards. Luke had stolen them for her from a Radio Shack in Georgia somewhere, as an apology present for some dumb mistake he’d made that day. She couldn’t even remember why she had been mad, but she remembered the way he smiled at her excitement.

She didn’t like dwelling on Luke, but she figured she had one day a year to be sorry for herself. She deserved it. She took the CD Lee had given her out of its case and popped it in the player before bringing out one of the peaches.

The album was good, Lee was right. Better than Nimrod. She let it play as she cut up the peaches with her butterfly knife and ate them, either sliced on top of the bread or just plain. They were juicier than they should have been this early in the summer, but she figured it was probably some bullshit divine magic. Everything here ran on it. She bit into one of the rolls, still warm despite the walk.

So Luke was evil now. That’s what Percy said that first day, at least, and Annabeth had looked too distressed to correct him at the time. She’d gotten defensive since then, put her foot down when the topic came up—which really wasn’t that often, whenever both Annabeth and Thalia were in a room—and made sure everyone knew that Luke was still good. Just misguided.

Thalia had no idea what to think. Some of the stories about him she understood completely. Starting a rebellion against the gods because they were shitty parents? Yeah, that checked. The two of them had done their fair share of griping about the awful hand they’d been dealt when they were on the run, and there was really no way that blame didn’t rest directly on their parents’ shoulders. Her death had probably made that worse for him, and she sincerely felt for him there.

Hurting kids, though? Especially someone who was so close to Annabeth, someone she clearly cared about? That was a little farfetched. Percy seemed like an honest kid, and everyone else she had asked backed him up on the whole scorpion story (and the several subsequent swordfights), but she still couldn’t quite get her heart to believe that Luke had tried to kill this boy when he was twelve. Percy was still shorter than Thalia, and he had this sharp air around him that reminded Thalia of Luke sometimes. He couldn’t do that, right? She knew him. She trusted him. They had been angry on the road, yeah, but they had taken Annabeth in without blinking. That anger was directed entirely at the gods. He wouldn’t try to destroy the one safe place on the planet for kids like them.

She flat-out refused to believe that Luke had poisoned her. Or—if he had, he had poisoned the tree. He thought Thalia was dead, Thalia was supposed to be dead. The tree itself wouldn’t have mattered.

(She didn’t think of the motivation behind poisoning the tree. She couldn’t.)

So some of what she heard had to be bullshit, plain and simple, but…

She’d caught a few people laughing at some of her jokes about him, his harmless quirks and manners of speech, before they caught themselves. They knew him, they’d known him before whatever actually happened went down. Before he became evil or whatever. Some of them had clearly been friends with him—not to the same extent, but still—and they all said he’d done these terrible things. So she didn’t know what to think. They knew him, but maybe they didn’t know him as well as she did.

Then again, maybe she didn’t know him as well as she’d thought. People changed. Maybe her best friend became a child murderer.

She wiped the butterfly knife on her pants before she closed it and stuck it in her pocket, done with her peaches and bread. The song that had just started was nice, more mellow and low-key than the rest of the album. It sounded sad, minor chords and a mournful voice, but she hadn’t been paying much attention to the lyrics. She would have to listen to the whole album again before she talked to Lee tomorrow. That was okay, it was good. She would have re-listened to it anyway.

The sun was finally setting for real, and she thunked her head against the trunk of the tree behind her. Whether or not she liked it, whether or not she believed it was Luke, someone had poisoned her tree. Either to get at camp or to get at her specifically, she didn’t know. It would have ended up the same either way. She wasn’t supposed to be awake, she didn’t want to be awake, but here she was. And now, from what Chiron had told her that morning about a prophecy, she was expected to go and kill her best friend on her next birthday.

Welcome back to life, Thalia.

She thought she had died so that Luke, Annabeth, and Grover could be safe, so that they could all have somewhere that would feel like home and protect them from the monsters. Now Annabeth had battle scars all over and Grover had just spent two weeks captive and in terror for his life and Luke had become the monster she was expected to fight and she was still alive, so her sacrifice meant nothing.

She took a shaky breath and felt how much cooler the breeze was against the tracks her tears had made. Tonight wasn’t about Luke. She had to move on. There would be time to think about him later.

For now she paused the music at the end of the slow song, but she kept the bulky headphones on. She knew she was less likely to be disturbed like this, dressed in her ripped-up ratty jeans with her angry eyeliner and big black headphones. ‘Difficult to talk to’ was the exact look she had been going for that afternoon. She moved away from the trunk of the tree, but not far enough that her silhouette would be noticeable to a faraway observer. Still under the wide boughs, still enclosed in comfort. She cleared a circle about a foot wide of any pine needles, thankful that a combination of Peleus and shade meant that grass never successfully grew under the tree.

She took a few tissues from her bag and set them in the center of the circle, smoothing down their edges in an attempt to look nice. It probably wasn’t necessary, but it seemed like the right thing to do.

Gently, she set the brownie she’d gotten from the nymph in the center of the napkins. Then she took out her old electric blue gas station lighter. She was kind of surprised it still had fluid after all these years, but she was grateful for it. Stealing a lighter or matches would have been a lot harder for her than stealing some peaches.

She lit the tissues. As the flames crept closer to the brownie, she prayed.

“Hey, Hades. It’s me. Again.” The tissue burned out completely, but the moist brownie caught fire, so she guessed he had probably heard.

“I know it’s been a few years. Also you tried to kill me, which wasn’t cool and probably means you hate me, but I get it. I guess. You can hate me, that’s fine. I just—” She swallowed, suddenly aware of how hot her eyes had become. She felt a tear fall onto her arm. If Hades was listening, he probably already knew what she was going to say. She’d done this every year, but she needed to say it again. She needed to.

“Please take care of Jason.” She blinked past the wetness in her eyes and watched the fire spread over the brownie in unnatural colors—blue and white, purple and gold. It smelled like it was baking instead of burning. She hoped that Jason could smell it from wherever his little two-year-old soul was down there.

“I know it’s not cake, but you always liked these better anyway. Happy birthday, bud. Miss you.”

The worst thing about waking up so close to July was that she wasn’t used to the years she had skipped yet. She was fifteen and she shouldn’t have been fifteen and it took her a full minute to figure out how old Jason should have been starting today.

Twelve. It would have been his twelfth birthday, had he survived past his second. Had Thalia not left him with their mother. Had she run away a week earlier, towing him along behind her. Would he and Annabeth have been friends? What would he think of Luke? Of Camp Half-Blood?

When she’d made her last stand seven years ago, right here in this spot, her final thoughts hadn’t actually been about protecting Annabeth or Luke or Grover. That was her motivation, yes, but her last thoughts had actually been about her brother. There was no way she would get out of that encounter alive, she knew that. She thought she had known that. The last thing she remembered thinking before she woke up was I hope I get to see Jason again.

She closed her eyes and breathed in the mingling scents of pine and baking brownies. It was July First, and Thalia was allowed to be sad today. She would pull herself together by tomorrow, she always did, but she was allowed to cry tonight.

She opened her eyes and watched the colors as the sun finally dipped to touch the horizon, flames in the sky mirroring the burning brownie in front of her, and mourned for all she had lost.

[panonbinary]

Dark Percy Jackson Fanfic, made by panonbinary

The sea god looks at Percy. His son, the person who he loved most… and he sees a monster. His once happy son seems near emotionless. His face is blank, apart from the pure rage in his eyes. Riptide slicing through everything in its path. The demigod looks up, and him and Poseidon lock eyes. The beautiful sea green that used to glow in his eyes is gone, and replaced with green-black holes, and even the god has to avert his eyes.

He has never seen his son move so fast and so graceful before, but now that he is fighting for himself, he’s so fast that he’s practically a blur. He doesn't look like he’s thinking about where Riptide goes, as long as it is fatal.

A scream behind Poseidon causes him to turn, ready to defend himself, but the danger isn't coming his way, but towards Hera, who is quickly charged at by not only Annabeth, but Leo as well. The two of them are terrifying to watch. Leo’s blinding fire and speed mixed with Annabeth’s agility and strategy, Hera looks downright terrified.

And with good reason. Annabeth is completely blank of emotion, calmly fighting her way through monster after monster to get to the goddess, and Leo is burning his way through almost too easily. Weapon after weapon is being taken out of his toolbelt and monsters are being left behind in a long trail, like breadcrumbs. The ground is being burnt under his feet and he is swearing like a sailor, whereas Annabeth is completely silent, and if she were the only demigod out there, the only sounds would be the screams of gods and monsters being slaughtered as she goes.

If anything, Annabeth looks bored as she and Leo tag team Hera, who by this point seems to be considering fleeing the entire battle, and admitting defeat. Poseidon doesn't blame her, as both Leo and Annabeth slash at her leg, making Hera’s form crumble.

Leo looks at his teammate and goes to the side, getting out bits and pieces from his toolbelt and, before Poseidon knows what’s going on, Leo holds some kind of rifle, and is shooting any and all monsters in his way. When the god of the sea looks back at Hera, Annabeth is nowhere to be seen, and the goddess just lays there, choking on a knife that is embedded through her throat with the precision only a child of Athena can pull off.

Suddenly, a gust of wind throws Poseidon to his knees, and he is only able to roll out of the way before a spear lands where his head had been half a second earlier. The god considers begging. Begging a demigod for his life, it's almost funny. The spear wrenches itself from the ground and back into the hand of the child of jupiter, who is looking at the sea god with stormy blue eyes. Keeping track of him is near impossible, as the wind helps him move faster than the eye can follow. His body fizzes with electricity and Poseidon isn’t confident that the storm raging overhead is the cause of Zeus. Jason’s entire being seems fluid as the wind itself, but his posture is still as poised as it has always been, thanks to the strict teachings of Camp Jupiter. Poseidon is thrown down again and, not moving fast enough this time, the spear lodges itself in his stomach.

It hurts way more than it should, but he knows that the demigods have done their research. He tries pulling it out, but his arms seem too heavy to move, and Poseidon isn't quite sure if he wants to continue to fight. So many demigods and gods alike lay dying and dead in the field, Ares being the first to fall closely followed by Hestia. Tyson, his beautiful son, had almost been killed, but Percy drained Dionysus of blood and healed his brother, and thus Mr D was gone too.

It isn't an even battle, the gods should be winning. The demigods don't have nearly enough power within them to fight even one god, let alone all of them at once. And yet here they are.

Nico Di Angelo is a force to be reckoned with, raising the ghosts and bodies of all those who have lost their lives of quests, Zoe, Bianca, Beckendorf, Silena, even Luke is here, fighting the gods for revenge, for the lives that were taken from them. Nico is fighting with pure fury in his eyes. And he should be. Poseidon has full sympathy for the boy. Nico finally has a good life, and then Katie, Connor and Will were ordered on a quest.

There is suddenly a body over his own, and Poseidon looks down at the dying Minotaur on his chest, and looks to his left, where Hazel stands, with pity in her eyes. Is that pity? It looks like it, but the blade that is thrown as the final blow that kills the beast says otherwise, and she turns, jumping onto Arion seamlessly as they run to a gorgon, that goes down without much fight. She rides up to Hermes, who is putting down his blade, saying that he doesn't want to hurt someone as young as her.

Arion slows down and Hermes looks relieved for a few moments, before he feels the ground moving under his feet. He barely has enough time to look down before the ground swallows him up and all that is visible is a single hand sticking out of the ground, moving around to grab something. The field is still filled with mist, and the few monsters still out here are fighting themselves more than the demigods. Poseidon, nor anyone else he expects, has never thought Hazel scary before now, but laying here? Watching echidnas fight empousas and Hermes scream from underground? Hazel is one of the scariest demigods out here.

He heard his name and turns to see Demeter running away from a dragon glowing red, and knows instantly that she is doomed as well. Frank is the one who he has been trying to avoid the entire battle after seeing him destroy his father, even killing his Divine form, and now Ares, nor Mars, exist. He has been killed.

And it looks like Demeter is next, as Frank drops to the ground as a lion and lands right on top of her. He bites into her shoulder and she screams bloody murder, before silencing as he bites into her neck. He form begins to flicker and after a moment she no longer appears human, but instead lays there as her Divine self.

Most demigods look away, like Travis Stoll and Nico, but the Seven stare at her, as well as all the remaining Gods. Frank stares her in the eye as she repeats “please” under her breath. Frank shifts back into human form, naked for all to see and still glowing red. He turns left to see Piper holding a bow and arrow, and takes them. Athena screams for the goddess but is held back by Jason’s winds as Frank slots the arrow into place. He pulls the string.

Everything quietens as he lets go, and the arrow strikes Demeter right in the middle of her forehead. The form glows so bright that a few demigods open their eyes in surprise, and scream in pain, and then Demeter is gone.

Piper and Percy scream loudly to continue fighting and Aphridite is immediately taken down, unprepared for the sudden assault. Travis goes straight for the opening and stabs her in the eye, closing his eyes just in case she flickers. She doesn’t, but seems damn close and she screams and begs for mercy, and Travis laughs almost maniacally.

“You sent them out here”, he says loudly. The battle stops dangerously and everyone listens closely. Nico goes to stand next to the Stoll, and grips his sword tighter when he locks eyes with the goddess. “Katie Gardner. Will Solace. Connor Stoll. You sent all three on that stupid fucking quest”

She looks at him through her one good eye and Poseidon can see when the realisation dawns on her.

“It was just…” she began, but Travis twists the knife around in her eye socket and she screams again, glowing slightly for a moment.

“It wasn’t a difficult quest, right? Just go and see if the gates to the underworld were safe” Nico says calmly, though his eyes show grief and rage. “You could have done it yourself, it wouldn’t have been hard for you. Any of you could have done it, Hades, Dionysus wasn’t busy”

Frank stood, still stark naked and covered in blood, red and golden, and stood full height, still glowing red. “Almost every quest you sent us on someone died”

Nico brought up the ghosts of the dead campers. Luke. Bianca. Silena. Zoe. Octavian. Beckendorf. Ethan. Lee. Castor. Michael. Kinzie. Phoebe. Naomi. Celyn. Katie. Connor. Will.

Aphrodite looks overwhelmed, as do the rest of the Gods. “These are only a certain few of those who you SACRIFICE” Percy screams in fury, coming up and putting an arm around Nico.

“You use us” Hazel says, coming up, and Annabeth comes behind her.

“You use all of us”

Jason lands with a bang, bringing down a centaur with him. “Most of these people didn’t have to die”

Leo walks up looking bigger than he ever has before. “I didn’t have to die”

Piper appears seemingly from nowhere, and puts her hands over Nico and Travis’ eyes, pushing the two away. Her aura terrifies all of the Gods still alive. Aphrodite starts begging for Zeus to arrive, but then locks eyes with Piper and shuts her mouth, seemingly unwillingly. The girl had taken down many Gods already, including hestia, and Aphrodite knew she would be next. Her daughter had been a tornado of swords and hadn’t even slowed down in the hours of the battle. She still has both blades in her hands, though now she drops one, and brings the other up. She, unlike the others, is still smiling. “Don’t worry, everything will be alright. There is nothing to fear my dear” she says, but this time the words are clear, no charmspeak to calm her mother down. Aphrodite sobs for a moment and lets her form crumble, and before anyone can blink screams in agony.

She disappears, leaving only Piper’s sword in her place.

The demigods turn to the rest of the Gods. Percy smiles condescendingly at his father, still bleeding out. He sits next to him, looking directly into his father’s eyes as he pulls the spear from his stomach. “Did you know Mum was with Gabe?” He asks, and Poseidon nods. Percy laughs, which seem to turn to sobs halfway through.

“You let him beat and rape and torture my mother and I for years, for ten fucking years, and never did anything?”

“I regret every mo…”

“SHUT UP” Percy yells as he slams the spear through his father’s chest, and Poseidon flashes white for a millisecond, before disappearing.

“Let this be a lesson to Zeus, Hades, Hermes, Apollo, Artemis and Athena. You are the only Gods left now, but you do not have control” Percy yells, and Thalia comes up behind him.

“No more mortals or demigods will be used for your gain anymore. If you think that you are above us then let this be a lesson to you all”

Hera and Hephaestus are brought to the middle of the field. Both are tied to poles using magic and Hazel touches their heads and they scream in terror. A cage appears around them as well as the bindings tightening. Thalia continues. “The two gods Hephaestus and Hera will be here, living out their worst nightmares unable to ask for help. This is punishment for thousands of years of torment and misery, of demigods being used as pawns in your games!”

Nico turns and sees Hades walk out, hands raised high, a white flag contained in his right. “If you wish, any and all demigods will be allowed to visit their loved ones in the underworld, whenever you need. My only wish is for me, Persephone and Cerberus to be safe”

Jason walks forward and takes the flag. “Persephone can face her punishment with our word that she will survive, but she will have a punishment. You and the dog are in no danger, as you have always owned up to your wrongdoings. Nico trusts you, and therefore so do we”

Annabeth grabs the god by the arm in a painfully tight grip, and continues. “And we know that we will be allowed full access to the underworld. Nico will be your boss from now on”

Hades gulps loudly, but nods.

Zeus never showed up that day. Nor the day after, nor the day after that. In fact, Zeus didn’t face punishment for what he had done for years, and was only found when Percy and Annabeth had two children, and everyone was happy. He showed up raining fire and ended up killing half of the world. Countries around the equator were burnt beyond recognition and the Arctic and Antarctic were no longer frozen, but most importantly were the people.

Before Zeus’ return Annabeth and the rest of the strategists had figured out a way for everyone to have a home, enough food, cruel dictatorships fell and overcrowded areas were cleared up. The deserts were cooled down just enough for habitation, obesity was fought and lost and everyone had enough to eat without resorting to primitive methods. Countries had never been at peace like this, because they were all run by the people, and if someone discussed war they were sent back to a school of sorts to remind them, kindly, how awful wars could be. They were at peace now, there would be no more wars.

Then Zeus came back, and the 8 billion people who were living peacefully crashed down to 5 billion.

And the seven became the three.

Zeus was defeated with help from the remaining gods, who had by then realised their faults, but the damage was done. Frank, Leo, Jason and Percy all died, slowly and painfully, and while Hades brought them back, they were never the same after that unimaginable pain.

But they came back. The demigods were practically immortal now, with the Gods’ help. And they became unstoppable.

[thesummerfox]

Imagine: Ward and Trish's daughter dating Danny and Colleen's son.

What on earth are you doing to poor Ward, oh my god?! xD (I just wrote you a little something, haha, hope you enjoy!!)

Imagine..

It’s already bad enough that he can’t get out of monthly dinners with the Rand family. (Nor can he escape the inevitable fiasco that is Colleen, Misty, Claire, Karen, and Marci camping out on his living room floor twice a month for reasons only his wife seems to fathom. He is not too proud to admit that he flees from it and winds up parked on Jeri Hogarth’s couch half the time.) 

Danny is a different man these days. Owns half a dozen dojos all around the city. Does some kind of ninja crap alongside far more sensible Luke, still, though the need for the Iron Fist has diminished. He’s fine with Danny now, after the years and two unstoppable wives mellowed the strain on the relationship considerably. Danny’s not the problem that’s making Ward dread these Sunday dinners. His business partner on paper (never in practice, thank you sweet baby Jesus) has done one particular thing that Ward previously deemed impossible: he has gotten a son with Colleen, and that son is insufferable. 

“If that cocky little brat side-eyes the curtains again and mentions how ‘quaint’ our home is, I am going to throw him out the window,” he says, already tired before the evening has yet to start. “Same if he starts complaining about how you never make anything but vegan dishes.”

Trish hums noncommittally. “Blue or red?” she asks, holding up two scarves. He gestures at the red half-heartedly, still pondering how on earth ray-of-sunshine Danny and down-to-earth Colleen spawned Satan’s child. His wife frowns as she wraps the scarf around her neck. “Will you please, please just let it go? Tim isn’t that bad.”

“Timmy,” drawls Ward, with all the loathing he can possibly reserve for a seventeen-year-old nightmare, “is on Claire’s shitlist. Do you know how long that list is? It only features three things: Timmy, Luke’s socks, and Matt’s annual Catholic guilt-trip.” He holds up three fingers just to emphasize the point, which earns him an eyeroll and a sigh that verges on disappointed. Fine. Trish refuses to acknowledge that there are parallels between Timmy and the entire plot of horror movies that feature scary children, but Ward knows better than that. He’s not fooled. “When he was five, he set fire to my laptop. When he was ten, he crashed my car. Last year, remember last year? He thought it would be cool to steal a–” 

Excited squealing interrupts the rant Ward so carefully prepared. “They’re here they’re heeeeere they’re heeeeheeeeheeeeeere! Mooooom! Daaaaaaad!” 

If there is one thing he would change about his teenage daughter, it would be her ability to reach a pitch in her tone that only dolphins and dog whistles can emulate. (That, and the fact that she is growing up so fast that Ward feels a new grey hair take root every time he looks at her.) 

“Lee, tone it down a bit!” he yells, hearing her carry on the high-pitched garbled noises just outside the door. “I can’t hear myself think!” 

“What? Dad, I can’t hear you!”

Ward groans in reply. Walks to the door, opens it, and steps out into the hallway. Almost immediately wishes he hadn’t. 

Danny’s the first to lay eyes on him. Colleen follows suit, worried frown mimicking her husband’s horrified stare. The only two people in this hallway who don’t seem to notice him standing there are the exact people that Ward now wishes he had kept hundreds of miles apart from childhood onward. (Scratch that. He’s going to kick Timmy all the way to the fucking moon. Just you wait.)

“I tried to tell you,” says Danny hurriedly, as if that makes what Ward is seeing any less bad. “Last week, when I went to pick them up from the movie theatre.. this greeted me too. I already yelled at Tim about it.”

“I am done yelling,” says Ward quietly. “Dinner’s not going to happen.”

“What?” His daughter, his baby girl, untangles herself from the Antichrist with some effort. “Dad, you can’t do that!”

“Watch me,” he snarls. Tries not to look at Timmy. Problematic, on-Claire’s-list Timmy. Dangerous, adventurous, devil-may-care Timmy. Timmy, whose hand now rests on his daughter’s waist. Timmy, whose lips were on his daughter’s lips not ten seconds ago. Fucking. Timmy. Ward lets out an angry hiss. “Jubilee,” he says, feeling suddenly tired and very very old, “this is not happening.”

“Yes, dad, it is.” Lee, of course, draws herself up to her full height and squares her shoulders the way she’s seen Trish do a million times. Flips her dark blonde hair over her shoulder and raises an eyebrow imperiously. She’s just like her mother, and Ward’s resolve almost crumbles. Almost. But then: “Tim and I are dating. Nothing you can do about it.”

“You’re sixteen!” he sputters. “Sixteen! You’re not dating anyone. Least of all..” He gestures into Timmy’s direction spitefully. Snarls out a warning. “Don’t you fucking dare smirk at me, kid, because I will throw you out of this house and I will make your life a living hell.”

Colleen is not impressed. “You know, you and Danny have more in common than you think.” The dragon’s daughter shakes her head and looks between her husband and Ward. “He threatened to, what was it, put Tim through fire trials? Something like that.” 

“Well, good,” huffs Ward. That earns him a half-smile from Danny. “I approve.”

“I don’t,” says his wife, having walked out of their room and come to stand beside Ward. Trish’s eyes are more steel than softness when he sneaks a glance at her. “Hi, Tim. Jubi, I thought you would find a more.. tactical way to tell dad?”

“You knew?”

Trish raises her hands as Ward rounds on her incredulously. “I caught them kissing on the couch two weeks ago. Knew you’d have a conniption about it, so I called Colleen instead.” Her gaze hardens even further. “Need I remind you what you were like at seventeen, Ward? Do I really need to go that far? Or can we actually go have the dinner I put together, and try to find a way to deal with our kids dating each other?”

“They’re not dating,” comment Ward and Danny simultaneously.

Colleen sighs. “Oh boy.”

“You know what, why don’t the four of us have dinner? Jubi, Tim, please go to Marci’s.. do not bother going anywhere else, because I will know. Eyes in the back of my head, remember?” Ward decides he still loves his wife more than air when she fixes Timmy with a look that could curdle milk. “We’ll deal with this for now. Just go.”

“We don’t need to deal with something that’s not happening,” mutters Danny. 

Ward thinks the world may be ending, because he finds himself agreeing wholeheartedly with Danny for the very first time in his life. He squeezes the bridge of his nose. “I think I’m going to break out the scotch,” he decides out loud, not caring that it meets resistance in both wives. “Danny, you want some?”

“Thanks.”

“Sorry, dad,” pipes up Jubilee, right before she walks out the door. Throws him a half-smile to boot. “I didn’t know how else to tell you.”

He’s not going to get used to this. He’s not. 

[theguardianangel-fanfiction]

Once Bitten, Twice Dead

Summary: It’s been two years since the beginning, and only five days since Clementine met them. But somehow, things got so much worse, and Carver was just the beginning. [Season 2 AU/canon divergent. New situations, characters, etc.] Chapter 14: Emergency Services Author’s Note: I will be posting 1 chapter a day on Tumblr. Each chapter is already posted on AO3 and Fanfiction. I will resume posting on those 2 websites on October 1st, 2017. [Main Blog] [AO3] [FanFiction.Net]

Never in her life had Clementine ever seen the inside of an ambulance, much less an abandoned one in the middle of the woods. On one hand, she considered herself lucky – because that meant she had at least never been hurt badly enough to warrant one. But on the other hand, as she scanned the inside of this one, she just wished she knew where anything was.

Especially anything big enough to block the door that Pete currently had himself pressed up against.

Three separate sets of growls and articulations could be heard through the thick doors of the back of the vehicle; each walker contributed a good amount of strength to the small group as they repeatedly slammed into the outside of the doors.

Clementine was kneeled, staying as far away from the doors as she could get, when she noticed several sets of cardboard boxes next to the opposite doorway that led to the driver’s and passenger’s seats.

“Pete!”

She at first thought, sarcastically, that the first box she’d gone for must’ve been carrying bricks. Unable to lift it, she carefully began to slide it towards Pete. He grabbed a hold of the box rapidly and shoved it against the door.

“Grab me another one -” Clementine did just that, and shoved another heavy box his way. Pete repeated his actions and shoved the other box against the door. He still continued to push against the boxes with the lower parts of his legs before looking back over to Clementine. “Well – they shouldn’t be able to get through me and the boxes.”

Clementine perked up as Pete turned, still pushing himself against the boxes. There was a rather hard thump thrown at the doors a moment later; both of them paused, and two uneasy gazes were thrown back at the doors.

“On the downside, we… can’t get through there either.”

Pete collapsed down in front of the boxes and used them as support for himself. He looked as though he was shaking, suddenly, and didn’t meet Clementine’s gaze. She gazed down slowly, not attempting to meet him, either.

Her sight landed on his ankle – or what rather was his ankle. It hadn’t stopped bleeding. The bottom of Pete’s pant leg was soaked in crimson blood, as was what Clementine could only assume – or rather hope, because she hoped that wasn’t a piece of skin or flesh hanging off – was his sock.

Without a word, Pete pulled his knee towards his chest and gingerly began to examine the wound. His face was pale now, eyebrows knitted together. He stilled didn’t meet Clementine’s gaze.

Clementine didn’t try to speak; her mouth was dry and her chest felt as though it were full of ice.

“What’re you lookin’ at?” came Pete’s voice softly. “Starin’ ain’t polite.”

“You’re bit.” The words left her mouth softly, softer than Pete’s voice. Her heart rate was already beginning to speed up again as she looked down at her arm, staring down at the bandages Carlos wrapped around her own bite. “What – what are you gonna do?”

Pete grimaced and looked back at her in a way that made Clementine genuinely wonder if he was about to smack her across the face. Still, she didn’t back off. His attention turned to something behind her.

“Hand me that there,” he said, nodding to whatever it was.

Clementine turned back and her heart skipped a beat. The object in question was a hacksaw.

Her gaze snapped back after she processed exactly what Pete was insinuating. She began to shake her head and muttered, “Pete.”

Still, the expression that crossed Pete’s face obviously wasn’t one she wanted to mess with. Her hand trembling, Clementine snatched the hacksaw from the top of one of the boxes and practically tossed it at Pete. She just wanted it to be out of her hands.

“Cutting it off – won’t… work,” Clementine said in a stilted voice. “It won’t.”

Pete picked up the saw and clenched his fist around the handle. “Says who?”

Closing her eyes, Clementine forced herself to speak. Her voice came out in a whisper that she hoped Pete could possibly make out. “I knew someone.” she muttered, “He tried it.” Once again, the image of Lee’s bloody, bandaged stump…

“Just because it didn’t work once don’t mean it can’t work at all.”

He flattened his leg out and positioned the saw slightly above his knee, staring intently down at his limb. He gritted his teeth, and raised the saw up, angled down towards his pants and flesh.

There was a tense silence as Clementine backed away, feeling sick. She averted her gaze and raised her hands up to her ears; if she couldn’t convince Pete differently, then she would have to prepare for what she knew was inevitable. (After all, the last thing she wanted to hear were the bloodcurdling screams of a sixty-something year old man who would immediately come to regret his decision.)

But they didn’t come, and neither did what she imagined would be some sickening crack that she would remember for the rest of her life, followed by a gush of blood that she also wouldn’t be able to forget.

Instead, Pete let out a noise that seemed to be a cross between a groan and a growl. He threw down the saw and rested his head in his hands.

“Ugh – I’ll bleed out like a stuck pig!” he exclaimed, “What’re you gonna do – carry me out outta here on your back?”

Clementine lowered her hands to her side and let out a small sigh of relief. She said nothing, allowing Pete to lament.

“Hell!” he continued, gritting his teeth and narrowing his eyes. After a moment of silence, Pete let out a shaky breath and looked down at the floor. “J-just… give me a minute.”

“Try to get some rest,” Clementine turned, gazing around at the other unopened boxes and containers. She began to think – it was an ambulance after all. They had to have something that could help; maybe some painkillers, or even rations or water. “I’ll see what’s in here. Maybe I can find something to help?”

Pete didn’t respond, instead choosing to take a deep breath. He leaned back against the door and closed his eyes tightly.

Clementine’s gaze turned to her bag, and she suddenly remembered the bottle of water that she’d saved. That was something Pete could need; she didn’t know exactly, one-hundred percent how bites worked, but she knew they killed through a fever. Something she always remembered her mother saying, from a medical perspective, was how important it was to stay hydrated if one was feverish.

She pulled the bottle from her bag. Only a small amount was left, maybe enough for a few swallows.

Pete’s eyes snapped open and several hacking coughs followed behind. He gazed up at the water bottle in Clementine’s hands and hoarsely asked, “Anythin’ in that?” More coughing followed.

“Not much,” Clementine admitted, unscrewing the cap. She offered the bottle to Pete, who practically snatched it from her hands. She had been right; he guzzled it down as quickly as possible.

He pulled the bottle from his mouth with a small gasp and a, “Thanks.”

“I’ll keep looking around.” Clementine promised, nodding to him. “There’s gotta other stuff in here, right?” She zipped her bag and headed to the front of the ambulance.

The key was still dangling freely from the ignition. The seats were worn and smelled of various, putrid bodily fluids. Even so, the glass of the front window was still intact. Clementine reached for the keys and turned them forward.

The engine made a moderately loud sputtering noise that quickly faded out. She looked up out the front window in alarm; two lone walkers turned towards the noise. One seemed to lose interest fast, but the other one continued looking, and began to limp towards the ambulance.

“Outta gas.” came Pete’s voice from the back.

Clementine returned back to the doorway, where a beat-up looking cardboard box was set. The front read: RED & GOLD and Original Flavor. The box was filled only with smaller boxes of cigarettes.

When Pete asked, she held one of the boxes up. His eyes suddenly widened.

“Gimme one o’ those.” Clementine handed him the box, and he continued with, “Probably tastes like pine tar by now…”

Despite her apprehension towards cigarettes and second-hand smoke, Clementine willingly retrieved her purple, butterfly patterned lighter from her bag, and lit Pete’s cigarette. He took one drag of the cigarette before coughing out a small cloud of smoke.

Already, the ambulance was beginning to smell like smoke. Even then, Clementine could still breathe, so she didn’t complain about the acrid smell.

“Ugh, that tastes about as bad as it smells.”

“What do we do now?” asked Clementine, trying her hardest to ignore the smell.

Pete took another drag. “We wait.”

She had the urge to ask ‘for what?’ before realizing that his group would most likely come searching – or at least Luke would. Surely they would be worried if they realized two members of their group were missing after they trusted someone they thought was working with an enemy.

Right.

Clementine sat down opposite of Pete and pulled her knees up to her chest. Her sleeping patterns had been odd for two years now, and she had slept in some odd places. One couldn’t consider sleeping in an abandoned ambulance in the middle of the day across from a dying man smoking a cigarette to be the oddest circumstances she’d ever had.

Though, she wouldn’t deny that it was quite high up on the list.

[richmegavideo]

‘The Walking Dead’ Review: ‘The Calm Before’ Brings Together the Communities for Tragedy

[Editor’s note: The following contains spoilers for “The Walking Dead” Season 9 Episode 15, “The Calm Before.”]

This Week On “The Walking Dead”

“The Calm Before” is complicated. On the one hand, it’s an effective piece of horror, skillfully playing out the dread of what, exactly, Alpha is going to do as reprisal for her stolen daughter, culminating in a truly memorable and ghastly image. The performances are strong, many characters are reunited, and it’s a vastly superior hour (plus) than the last big shocker episode, “The Day Will Come When You Won’t Be.” But as another chapter in the ongoing narrative, it just makes me want to throw up my hands. Here, again, is another pile of agonizing misery for our heroes. Here, again, the audience is strung through the emotional wringer so a new Big Bad can prove how super dangerous they are. It’s an exhausting and exasperating hour of television. Between this episode and “Scars” last week, the show’s as dark as it’s ever been.

Man Is The True Monster

I’ve spent the last several weeks making exaggerated jokes about how something terrible was going to happen at the fair, because the show has trained us to always expect the worst, especially when it looks like things might be going right for our heroes. And lo and behold, the episode ends with Alpha establishing a “border” (which doesn’t make a lot of sense, aren’t the Whisperers nomads?) by killing a number of significant characters and placing their zombified heads on pikes. The casualties are significant, including promising newer characters introduced this year, like Brett Butler and Ozzy the Highwayman (who wasn’t around long but made a great first impression), to more established veterans like Enid, Tara, and Henry.

The show gives Henry the big final reveal treatment, probably because Carol is in the group that finds the border, but it’s Tara that really stings the most. She’s long been a personal favorite, and her new role as Hilltop’s leader seemed to finally position her to receive the prominence that Alanna Masterson has long deserved on this show. But these deaths are meant to hurt both the characters and the audience, and it’s a struggle to be that invested in what happens next. Presumably our heroes fight the Whisperers now, just like they overcame the Saviors (albeit hopefully in fewer episodes). But I can’t help wondering past the end of that conflict and wondering what atrocity will be committed to show how dangerous the next Big Bad will be. Maybe Ezekiel is skinned alive while Carol is forced to watch? The fact that an idea like that isn’t outside the realm of possibility is just exhausting. Such is the nature of “The Walking Dead.” It’s a well of endless misery with no bottom.

Read More:‘The Walking Dead’ Review: ‘Scars’ Offers Answers, None Of Them Satisfying

But as mentioned, the execution of the turn is effective. Alpha’s presence at the fair (complete with wig from a scalped Hilltopper) immediately sets off alarm bells, and our heroes spend a great deal of time reaffirming their connections and then basically all doing the “I’ll be right back” horror trope. Henry’s got to go check on that pipe, Siddiq will tell Michonne his big news when he sees her back at Alexandria, etc. For a hot second, it seems like Ezekiel will be one of the victims, since he actually has a prolonged interaction with Alpha, as she tries to act normal and can’t quite succeed. It’s nice to see Morton stretch a bit more in the role, and her final scene with Lydia is particularly strong, as she realizes she’s truly lost her daughter. She manages to hold it together until she’s back at camp, shedding a single tear and of course killing the Whisperer who accidentally witnesses her moment of weakness. Got to keep the sheep in line!

“The Walking Dead.”

Jackson Lee Davis/AMC

A Shred of Humanity

It should be said that before things go south, the fair is really nice. It’s been ages since we’ve seen all these characters share screen time, and it’s been even longer for the characters themselves, so it’s a relief to see everyone together again. Plus Eugene gets knocked into a dunk tank and Jerry pretends to be a horse, so, bonus.

The most significant development is that the various community leaders come together to discuss the Lydia problem and agree to offer her asylum. Tara is justifiably nervous about retaliation against Hilltop, which leads to a weird speech by Michonne about how many of them weren’t trusted when they first showed up, but now they’re all friends. Which wasn’t the argument Tara was making at all, but she winds up agreeing with Michonne. It’s frustrating that even when our heroes do the right thing, it’s for weird nonsense reasons. The argument for protecting Lydia could be won or lost on the merits, if anyone actually engaged with it seriously, but Michonne’s switch has flipped from “mean” to “nice,” so that’s the end of it.

The upside is that this discussion leads to Ezekiel pulling out the charter, which everyone agreeably signs. It’s the episode’s big feel-good moment, and it delivers. Michonne deferring to Gabriel to sign on behalf of Alexandria is a nice touch. It’s curious that everyone wouldn’t want to make a big show of it in front of the whole fair, but it’s still a victory in a time where those are hard to come by.

The episode’s final scene is hard to swallow, as Siddiq is spared by Alpha for absolutely no reason other than to convey that before they died, the victims all came together to fight the Whisperers, even though they were from different communities. It’s a borderline hilarious last-minute attempt to find a silver lining, especially because the divide between the communities has only ever been attributed to Michonne’s withdrawal into Alexandria. It’s nice of the show to insist that these deaths won’t lead to community in-fighting, but as far as we know three of the communities have all been square with each other over the years, with Michonne as the lone holdout. It’s a solution in search of a problem.

“The Walking Dead.”

AMC

The Remains

The decapitation border is a big moment from the comics, which I have not read. Apparently, the victim line-up was quite different, but such changes are par for the course at this point. It’s interesting that the show feels compelled to stick with those big events, but is perfectly content to change the characters. Doesn’t matter whose heads are on those sticks, as long as there are some heads on sticks.

The reveals of the victims, with oblivious people at the fair wondering about the whereabouts of each character, was particularly effective. Alden scanning the crowd for Enid as he performs his number with Luke was probably the most devastating.

It is kind of funny how Alpha seemed to know how important each character was and ordered them accordingly.

Poor Hilltop can’t hang on to a leader to save their lives. Who’s even left there that has a speaking part? Is it Earl’s time to shine?

Pro tip to the “Walking Dead” social team: comparisons like this do you no favors.

Jerry gets to declare the opening of the First Annual Inter-community Reunification Fair (or FAIR Fair), plus he survives the episode, which frankly was a big surprise.

Looks like Rachel runs Oceanside now. She doesn’t have much to do this episode besides say, “Oceanside’s down,” but she’s there.

All this talk about the movie and it’s a Baby Huey short. Brutal. Beggars can’t be choosers, but jeez, not even Tom and Jerry? Anyway, the feature was “Sliver” and you can’t prove me wrong.

When Ezekiel says that Henry’s taking a girl to the movies tonight, Carol says, “Everything you just said sounds completely impossible,” which is supposed to be a commentary on the old-world amenities they’ve managed to resurrect for the evening, but can also be interpreted as a sick burn on Henry.

Still mad that the show treats Henry as the big final kicker in the head line. Justice for Tara, who flipped Rick off that one time and was thus one of the show’s top 3 characters.

Grade: B-

The post ‘The Walking Dead’ Review: ‘The Calm Before’ Brings Together the Communities for Tragedy appeared first on .

The post ‘The Walking Dead’ Review: ‘The Calm Before’ Brings Together the Communities for Tragedy appeared first on .

from WordPress http://www.richmegavideo.com/the-walking-dead-review-the-calm-before-brings-together-the-communities-for-tragedy/

[viralhottopics]

While You Were Offline: Hey YAll, Remember to Set Your Doomsday Clocks Forward

Hey, Starlee Kine. We still miss Mystery Show, but while we mourn its disappearance, why don’t you tell everyone what this past week has felt like?

Jesus you miss one day's worth of news and you're Luke returning home to his aunt and uncle on Tatooine.

— Starlee Kine (@StarleeKine) January 25, 2017

Yep, pretty much sums it up. This has been the week where reality has been rejected by those in charge, and perhaps with good reason, considering how badly reality is working out for… almost everyone? But if you’ve had the good luck to have been busy doing other things for the past seven days, here’s a quick roundup of what you might have missed over the last week of World Wide Web-spinning.

It’s the End of the World as We Know It and This Is Fine

What Happened: So, turns out that the Doomsday Clock was updated this week, for those of us having trouble dealing with the anxiety of the modern world. Where It Blew Up: Twitter, media reports What Really Happened: But perhaps all this naysaying and doom-mongering is just paranoia, and things aren’t as bad as they seem. Let us just check in with what the big brains at the Bulletin of the Atomic Scientistsyou know, the people behind the Doomsday Clock—are saying to get some perspective.

Doomsday Clock moving from 3 minutes to midnight to 2 and a half minutes to midnight

— Vann R. Newkirk II (@fivefifths) January 26, 2017

Well, crap. So, what brought us that little bit closer to apocalypse? According to the official announcement, none other than the new President of the United States. Well, him and a general worldwide push towards nationalism. “Disturbing comments about the use and proliferation of nuclear weapons made by Donald Trump, as well as the expressed disbelief in the overwhelming scientific consensus on climate change by both Trump and several of his cabinet appointees, affected the Board’s decision, as did the emergence of strident nationalism worldwide,” the release explains.

The change was, of course, picked up by multiple news outlets as everyone tried to just pretend everything was fine.

Certainly, there were plenty of doubters on Twitter:

Have to say, introducing half-minutes to the Doomsday Clock feels like a cop-out.

— Phil Sandifer (@PhilSandifer) January 26, 2017

Real talk: The Doomsday Clock is stupid.

— Blake Hounshell (@blakehounshell) January 27, 2017

At least some people had a certain type of gallows humor

Can't wait to hear Donald Trump's response to the #doomsdayclock moving 2.5 mins to midnight. Probably has a clock that is bigger & better

— Adam C. (@adamecurry) January 26, 2017

The #DoomsdayClock has moved closer to Midnight. It's just like Cinderella. Except when the clock strikes 12 she turns into a mushroom.

— TwistedDoodles (@twisteddoodles) January 26, 2017

TBH, I'm surprised the Doomsday Clock isn't CLOSER to midnight…

— Hope Larson (@hopelarson) January 27, 2017

So, what's everyone doing for their last 2 min 30 sec on earth? #doomsdayclock

— Ezra Harper (@EmDrive16) January 27, 2017

That’s the spirit! Chins up, everyone The Takeaway: Well, this feels appropriate:

It's not at all concerning when #DOOMSDAYCLOCK is trending. Not at all. Everything is fine. http://pic.twitter.com/F0SzyH47TB

— Tom + Lorenzo (@tomandlorenzo) January 26, 2017

#SpicerFacts

What Happened: How do you know you’ve made it as White House Press Secretary? When your very first press appearance in the role turns you into an Internet meme. Where It Blew Up: Twitter, media reports What Really Happened: New White House Press Secretary Sean Spicer had a rough start to his new job last weekend, when his first appearance at the podium proved to be an argumentative one, as he basically said many wrong things about the size of the crowds for President Trump’s inauguration and everyone called him on it. The resultant online kerfuffle immediately became a meme as #SpicerFacts started trending and everyone offered up their own versions of reality:

President Trump finished the NY Times mini-crossword puzzle each day in roughly 15 seconds. #SpicerFacts

— colbyhall (@colbyhall) January 21, 2017

Trump swam the English Channel while holding Chuck Norris above the waves with one arm. #SpicerFacts

— Charlie Reed (@CharlieReed2004) January 21, 2017

"Everyone knows Beyonc was the weak link in Destiny's Child. Period." #SpicerFacts http://pic.twitter.com/jIWuYHb7bS

— Josh Crews (@JoshCrewsReally) January 22, 2017

"Admiral Ackbar is wrong. There is no trap. Period." #SpicerFacts http://pic.twitter.com/oXKrwKBckk

— Bonnie Burton (@bonniegrrl) January 22, 2017

Unsurprisingly, the media couldn’t resist reporting on this meme, especially considering Spicer’s ire was directed towards the media. Soon, the very idea of #SpicerFacts had gained enough currency that it got a Twitter account of its very own, the surest sign that something had gone mainstream. Well, one of the signs, at least.

Announcers at an NBA game were making #SpicerFacts jokes this weekend. This moment broke through huge. And can't be put back in bottle.

— Maggie Haberman (@maggieNYT) January 23, 2017

So how could the White House fight back against this widespread acceptance of the idea that its Press Secretary had, in his very first official appearance, revealed himself to be unfamiliar with the truth? KellyAnne Conway had an idea: double down.

WATCH: Kellyanne Conway defends WH press secretary's "alternative facts." #MTP http://pic.twitter.com/q4PVzhpA1g

— Meet the Press (@MeetThePress) January 22, 2017

Yes, that’s actually a government official arguing that Spicer wasn’t actually being untruthful, he was just delivering “alternative facts.” Anyone want to make a guess at what became the next hashtag to trend on Twitter?

Never too late to teach your children about #AlternativeFacts http://pic.twitter.com/RlVCEgkusU

— Kenneth Fernandez (@KenFernandezPHD) January 23, 2017

Icebergs are disappearing because polar bears are eating them #alternativefacts

— David Belz (@dmdb44) January 23, 2017

All of the Jedi inexplicably decided to jump into friendly Stormtrooper fire or onto Darth Vader's lightsaber. #Alternativefacts

— Death Star PR (@DeathStarPR) January 23, 2017

Unicorns went extinct when David Bowie died. #AlternativeFacts

— HaberTweets (@ToddHaberkorn) January 23, 2017

As sales of George Orwell’s 1984 spiked almost 10,000 percent (it is, after all, a book filled with alternative facts, or as it’s called in the book, doublespeak), the war on truth continued with Sean Spicer’s second press conference, in which he told reporters, “I think sometimes we can disagree with the facts.” If he seemed unclear about what words mean, thankfully the dictionary was there to throw some shade in his direction:

*whispers into the void* In contemporary use, fact is understood to refer to something with actual existence. https://t.co/gCKRZZm23c

— Merriam-Webster (@MerriamWebster) January 24, 2017

The Takeaway: Sometimes, the truth is out there all along, just mixed up somewhat.

Best. Anagram. Ever.

ALTERNATIVE FACTS = AN EVIL STATECRAFT#AlternativeFacts (h/t @anagramtimes) http://pic.twitter.com/SbDAG7jvWA

— Jonathan Kaye (@JonathanMKaye) January 24, 2017

Did You Mean…?

What Happened: Sometimes, search functions give you what you need, if not necessarily what you wanted. Where It Blew Up: Twitter, media reports What Really Happened: Call it the surprise search gift of the week.

It's crazy who pops up when you search the word 'asshole.' on Twitter.

— BEEZ (@bugattibeez) January 26, 2017

Note: This isn’t still the case, so don’t go rushing to Twitter to try it for yourself right now. But, up until Wednesday evening, this was entirely true:

Search "asshole." Search "fascist." Search "racist." Search "worst."

What do you get? http://pic.twitter.com/v0rfqKCiHB

— Alex Goldschmidt (@alexandergold) January 26, 2017

The @realDonaldTrump account would also come up as a suggestion if you searched for “tiny hands,” although that was discovered after the fact. Twitter, meanwhile, was rather excited about this new discovery.

If you type "asshole" into the Twitter search bar Donald Trump's profile comes up lmfao who did this?

— Anthony (@OMGItsBirdman) January 23, 2017

y'all type "asshole" into the search bar and donald trump comes up sjjakhsjsha

— diego (@shadesof666) January 26, 2017

So anyway I typed "asshole" in the search bar and Donald Trump shows up

— Tay (@CakeFaceTay_) January 26, 2017

WHEN YOU SEARCH "asshole" it shows Trump http://pic.twitter.com/jnSJdejpe4

— Dank Memes (@DankMemes) January 26, 2017

Turns out, Twitter wasn’t the only place people got excited about this search suggestion; unsurprisingly, it got a lot of traction in the media. And why not? If Twitter was trolling Trump it would have seemed an awful lot like making a dig at the guy who has made the service very newsworthy in recent months.

But what if it wasn’t trolling?

Not a troll. Algorithm to find relevant accounts based on the "discussions" they are part of, i.e. lots of tweets to Trump using "asshole". https://t.co/0wlUntdKeV

— Izzy Galvez (@iglvzx) January 26, 2017

The Takeaway: Whether it was a legitimate algorithm or strange glitch, Trump was removed from those results pretty quickly after it became public. It was over almost as soon as it began, but let this serve as a lesson to randomly search for things on Twitter and see what comes up. (That is the lesson here, right?)

There Is a Tweet Tied to an Argument For Torture, What Do You Do?

What Happened: Turns out, Twitter is not so impressed with your ridiculous hypothetical moral dilemmas. Where It Blew Up: Twitter, media reports What Really Happened: Funny story: our new ppresident believes torture “absolutely works.” As people try to come to terms with what that actually means (FWIW, new Defense Secretary James Mattis disagrees), British comedian Lee Hurst took to Twitter with what we can only assume he thought was a compelling thought experiment.

Your baby is tied to a timebomb. You have the terrorist. He tells you you have 1 hour. Do you #torture him to find your baby or let it die?

— Lee Hurst (@2010LeeHurst) January 26, 2017

Let’s just say that Twitter, en masse, didn’t agree.

Simple. First you row the baby across the river. Then row back and get the time bomb and the goose, leaving the terrorist with the beans.

— Davey Jones (@DHBJones) January 26, 2017

Were you attached to a time bomb when you were a baby? I'd like to talk to you for a thing – DMs are open #journorequest

— josh pappenheim (@papsby) January 26, 2017

Good luck tying my baby to a time bomb. It takes me half an hour just to put a vest on him.

— Ben Davis (@bendavis_86) January 26, 2017

Okay, okay, but what if it were baby Hitler tied to a bomb you sent back in time?

— Kip Manley (@kiplet) January 26, 2017

For sale. Baby timebomb. Never used.

— Kieran Shiach (@KingImpulse) January 26, 2017

The Takeaway: There’s no way to avoid it: this pun just might have made the whole thing worthwhile:

"Lieutenant, they've strapped your baby to a bomb!"

"Don't worry. That won't…"

(puts on sunglasses)

"…RATTLE her."

YEAAAAHHHHHHH

— Li'l Stuffed Bull (@bully_thelsb) January 26, 2017

Read more: http://ift.tt/2jrVzM7

from While You Were Offline: Hey YAll, Remember to Set Your Doomsday Clocks Forward

[pain-is-too-tired]

More Merlin au thoughts-

Chiron

Took in the Apollo kids after Apollo was forced into hiding due to Kronos.

Hesitated when Kronos requested for him as a Physican/Royal Advisor, but accepted out of fear of Kronos' reaction to an rejection.

Always trying to keep an eye on the kids and make sure they don't expose themselves. Though he sometimes uses his role as an Advisor to his advantage.

Asclepius

Oldest of Apollo's children, went into hiding with his father.

was partly mentored by Chiron before having to run off, but tries to teach out when he can.

ends up separated from Apollo at some point,after a bit returns to the kingdom to get in touch with his siblings. Making sure his wife stays hidden why he's away.

Lee

Second eldest.

intuned with his magic and more experienced though he rarely uses it

Luke's servant, though does not care much for honoraries with him.

Michael

Struggles with light magic, but it's the most skilled in shape shifting and sound magic.

has a tendency to shapeshift a lot. Especially if trying not to be found by the Prince or another noble.

Has a sharp mouth,but quickly learned how to keep it together around King Kronos. However, he still sasses Luke time to time.

Befriend one of the blacksmiths, can be seen helping with burns a lot.

Will

most skilled in healing and light magic

has the least control over his magic

at some point found out be has plague magic and immediately panicked. He constantly tries to push down negative emotions in fear of losing control.

some how catches the interests of one of Kronos' wards/grandsons after tending to him when he got sick

Jake

royal blacksmith

is also magic along with one of his other brothers Leo.

able to control metal

fell hard for Michael, but isn't yet aware that he's also magic so he's constantly scared of being dumb and being caught

very protective of his brother,constantly covering up for him. If anyone every tried to accuse Leo he'd jump to take responsibility instead.

Nico

Son of Kronos' eldest, his father was forced into hiding with his uncles for magic

Like his cousins heavily hides his own abilities from others.

due to their fathers' disownment, Nico, his siblings and his cousins are no longer in line for the thrown.

he likes to mess around with Will at times, mainly trying to keep him at arm's length to not get caught. But Will tends to just take it or lecture him about being careful.

Luke

Father's wereabouts unknown, he was taken in by Kronos after his seer mother gave out a prophecy to the king before falling ill.

due to the prophecy Kronos cut down on magic, teaching Luke to be same, using what happened to his mother as an example.

Kronos chose Luke as his heir after disowning his sons.

Lee was assigned to Luke after they saved him from assassin. But Kronos quickly realized how easily Luke got attached to him and is willing to hold that over his Hier's head if he needs to.

[theguardianangel-fanfiction]

Once Bitten, Twice Dead

Summary: It’s been two years since the beginning, and only five days since Clementine met them. But somehow, things got so much worse, and Carver was just the beginning. [Season 2 AU/canon divergent. New situations, characters, etc.] Chapter 10: Later that Night. Author’s Note: I will be posting 1 chapter a day on Tumblr. Each chapter is already posted on AO3 and Fanfiction. I will resume posting on those 2 websites on October 1st, 2017. [Main Blog] [AO3] [FanFiction.Net]

Luke placed the bowl and a small spoon on the table in front of her, then took the seat across the table. By this point, Clementine didn’t care what it is was or where Luke had gotten it from. Her stomach was ravenous, yearning for something to put inside of it; all she wanted to do was fulfil that request.

Immediately, she stuck a spoonful of oatmeal into her mouth, and then another. The beans from that can were nowhere near filling, but maybe this could be. Besides, when was the next time she would get to eat anyway?

“That’s gonna leave a scar.” Luke pointed out, eyeing the bandage that was wrapped around Clementine’s arm. She looked down at as she swallowed another spoonful of oatmeal. Pete’s words from earlier echoed in her mind. “That’s still better than losing it.”

Luke nodded in agreement. “Yeah,” he said, smirking. “You can say that again. Scars? They’re way cooler than stumps.”

Clementine paused for a moment, placing her spoon down. Lee, she thought, looking away from Luke. The memory of his stump was vivid in her mind. She wasn’t sure she’d ever forget the horror of seeing it for the first time.

“What?” Luke’s voice interrupted her memory. His face dropped.

Shaking her head, Clementine simply told him, “Nothing.” She picked up her spoon again and took another bite of the oatmeal. She avoided Luke’s sympathetic eyes. “I just had a friend who lost his arm. That’s all.”

Before Luke could say anything, the kitchen door opened. Clementine looked up, expecting it to be Carlos or Pete. Instead, Nick stood, shoulders slumped, in the doorway. Luke looked over to the man, though he said nothing.

Slowly, Clementine took another bite. She watched out of the corner of her eye as Nick made his way over to the table. She didn’t look back up at all until she heard him speak.

“Hey, look.” She looked up just as Nick rubbed the back of his neck. “I just wanted to...” He hesitated for a moment. “I just wanted to apologize for… well, for bein’ a dick out there.” In Clementine’s opinion, there was a big difference between almost shooting someone and ‘being a dick’, but she wasn’t complaining. An apology was still an apology, after all.

When she said nothing, Nick continued. “I got kinda aggro out there and… that was definitely not cool.”

“Nick’s been known to go off every once in a while.” Luke interjected from the other side of the table. Nick didn’t disagree with this at all, and preferred to stay mute. “Don’t hold it against him.”

Nick shrugged sheepishly. “I guess we all have our moments.”

“You - definitely had one out there.” Luke told him, raising his eyebrow and cocking his head to the side.

Clementine knew she couldn’t hold a grudge against someone who at least bothered to apologize. Nick seemed like a hot-headed man, but not… bad, or even particularly mean. Aggressive, yes. But if he was apologizing, and Luke was vouching for him, that was a different story.

Even if she wasn’t letting him off the hook completely.

Slowly, she turned to face him. Nick was much taller than her – and several inches taller than Luke, as well. Clementine looked up when she spoke to him.

“You were protecting your friends.” she said quietly, resting her hand on the spoon she’d set down. “I get it.”

Nick seemed taken aback at how quickly the child accepted the apology. He stepped back slightly, rubbing his neck again, and replied, “Well, I didn’t mean to be so harsh. I just…” Nick looked away, a devastated look crossing his face as he let out a soft, “Ugh…” Luke’s face fell as Nick remained quiet for a moment. He looked Clementine in the face as he said, “We had a bad experience once.”

“We’ve all had bad experiences.” Clementine pointed out softly. She could remember every single one that her group had had. Though she didn’t ask, she wanted to know exactly what this experience was.

Nick sat down in the chair next to her. His face stayed the same as it had before. Luke’s voice stole the attention of both of them. “Nick lost his mom.” Luke spoke to Clementine. His face had sunk into one similar to Nick’s. “We took care of someone that got bit. By a lurker, I mean.”

“It was my fault.” Nick grumbled abruptly. He closed his eyes for a moment. “I…” He trailed off, seemingly unable to finish his sentence.

Luke took over, giving the other man a look full of pity. “It was no one’s fault.” He turned back to Clementine and continued, “It wasn’t… it wasn’t like yours. We knew exactly what it was when we saw it. We thought we could control it.” Shame filled his features and he closed his eyes slowly. “But we couldn’t. And-and then, she turned, and his mom was standin’ right there, and she got attacked.”

Nick didn’t look away as he took a deep breath and closed his eyes as well. He said nothing.

“There was nothin’ we could do about it.” Luke looked down at the checkerboard that sat on the table in front of him, and then at the candles that sat between him and Clementine.

“Anyway,” Nick mumbled quietly. Clementine focused her attention back on him; she wanted to think about anything else except the death of a mother. “Hopefully you understand.” With this, Nick stood from his chair, once again towering over her.

Clementine nodded slowly and said, “I do, yeah.”

Nick said nothing else, and instead offered her a small smile. Without another word to either of them, he left the kitchen. The door squeaked again as it closed. Picking up the spoon again, Clementine resumed eating. Her stomach still ached with hunger, and her hands still shook a small amount.

Luke turned back to her, and began, “So,” His hands fiddled with a black checker piece as he said this. “Since you’re… pretty much on your own, what’s your plan?”

Clementine stopped eating, yet again, and set the spoon down in the bowl. She hadn’t put much thought into this besides ‘find Christa’. In all honesty, she hadn’t thought she would make it this far. She quickly glanced out the window, only to see nothing but blackness and the reflections of the candles. She couldn’t leave tonight, could she?

“I have to find Christa.” It was automatic. Clementine hadn’t thought past her original plan – if she could even exactly call it a plan at all. Suddenly, every little bit of anxiety that had been pushed aside earlier had returned. “I have to find her.”

Just as Nick had, Luke looked taken aback suddenly. Had he never heard of someone going out on their own? Clementine may have been young, but she wasn’t vulnerable. However, she did have to admit that it was at that moment that she remembered she was an eleven year old girl and this was a man who had only seen her fail to get away from a group of walkers.

“Look, you ain’t seriously thinkin’ about goin’ out there by yourself, are you?”

Clementine knitted her eyebrows when she looked up at him. Luke looked sheepish for a moment, but his expression darkened as he continued with, “I mean, I’m not sayin’ you’re weak or nothin’ – but you’re…” He gestured vaguely in her direction.

“A kid?” Clementine finished for him, face sinking into a glare. “If you’re going to bring that up, then call me what I am.”

Luke’s shoulders sagged and he shook his head. “I’m not sayin’ you aren’t capable, Clementine.” He pursed his lips for a moment. “There’s just a lot of shitty people out there, and lurkers, too. You don’t have a weapon, and you just got – what, eight, nine stitches in your arm? It ain’t a good combination.”

“I can take care of myself.” Clementine shot back quickly, careful to avoid raising her voice.

“You’d have been lurker food if Pete and I hadn’t found you when we did.”

Clementine didn’t immediately reply to this. It was a true fact. She was silent for a moment, looking up at Luke, who looked concerned, rather than as if he had just won an argument. But of course he had to bring up that fact; of course he had to point out that she wouldn’t have been able to defend herself in her state.

She thought of the man from the night before – or was it early morning? It was hard to tell. There was no bite then, no blood loss – just Clementine, with no weapon, up against a man who was at least twice her size. That man was dead because she’d done the right things.

“Lurkers aside, Clementine, y’weigh about as much as a sack of flour.” Luke rubbed the back of his neck, avoiding her eyes as he said this. “If you don’t have a weapon, and you get attacked by someone my size, or hell, Alvin’s size – you’re screwed.”

Luke wasn’t a large man, Clementine thought. He might have been slightly smaller than the scavenger, but Alvin was a different story. He was Nick’s height and about twice as large. She didn’t want imagine having to fight him, or someone his size.

Heavy silence hung in the air as Clementine tried to figure out a way to get past this. Before she even thought about her words, she blurted out, “The last man who tried to hurt me lost his thumb.” She looked away, heat rising to her cheeks at the sudden outburst. “He’s dead.”

Luke’s eyes widened slightly more than they already were. “He lost his – what, did you bite his thumb off?" He looked down at his own thumb, and then back at Clementine.

Clementine opened her mouth slightly, and was silent for a moment before she spoke. “He attacked me.” She took a deep breath and closed her eyes. “I thought he was going to kill me. He grabbed me… I bit him until he let go. He was one of the men who came after me and Christa.” Looking down, she grabbed her spoon and shoveled more oatmeal into her mouth. “A walker killed him.”

Luke looked up as she said this. His eyebrows knitted together for a moment before he spoke. “Damn,” he said, watching the girl. “That’s… I’m sorry y’had to do that.”

Clementine nodded in response. She shrugged. “I didn’t want to do it, Luke.” There was no way she wanted Luke to get the wrong idea about why she had defended herself against the scavenger.

“Wh – no, no, I didn’t think y’did.” Luke stammered out, his mouth hanging open slightly. “It’s just… you’re a kid. Y’shouldn’t have kick a grown man’s ass to survive.” He shrugged. “Look, you’re welcome to stay here if you need to. I’ll talk to the others. You can let yourself heal up, and take some time to sort things out.”

Clementine hesitated. As much as she wanted to find Christa and get things back on track, she couldn’t deny that the offer was tempting. Luke was offering her somewhere that wasn’t a log or the ground to sleep, and she’d gotten a meal that wasn’t a wild animal. She didn’t want to give in, but she knew that what Luke said was true.

She thought of what Nick had said much earlier – ‘Forget it. You won’t get five feet.’ That wasn’t true; she’d get much more than five feet, but Clementine knew she wouldn’t get far.

“… Do you think everyone else will be okay with it?” Clementine couldn’t help biting down at her lip after she said this. “Because I’ve already been told to stay away from Carlos’ daughter, and I don’t think that lady…” She thought for a moment, trying to remember the woman’s name, “… Rebecca trusts me anymore than he does.”

“They’ll just have to deal with it.” said Luke with a small smile. “Don’t worry too much about it. Rebecca’s on edge right now – she’s pregnant, if y’couldn’t tell. Trust me, the bark’s worse than the bite. Carlos is just overprotective.” He lowered his voice. “Believe me, he’s like that with everyone.”

Though Clementine doubted his last statement, she understood what Luke meant. Like Nick, he was watching out for his group. She thought back to the first few months of the outbreak, and back to the motel. Lilly had tried to lead them, and she had acted in a similar way.

When she looked up, Luke’s expression had changed. They stared at each other rather awkwardly before Luke asked, “Were you and your friend alone?”

“Yes.”

Luke looked away for a second, and then continued with, “If you were with her… what happened to your parents?” Clementine felt her stomach drop as she processed his words. A sick feeling washed over her. “If you don’t mind me askin’, I mean.” When he received no immediate response, he stammered, “I mean -” Luke avoided her gaze. “- I assume what happened to them is what happened to just about everyone’s parents.”

Clementine said nothing. Instead, she looked down at her bowl.

“You’re just so young,” Luke uttered, lowering his voice. “I didn’t think you coulda made it on your own for so long, but… maybe you did.”

“Other people took care of me.” And all of those ‘other people’ died because of you, said a tiny voice in the back of Clementine’s head. “If that’s what you’re asking.”

Luke offered a small nod. “I was just curious on how you made it this far.”

“I just tried to stay with good people and not do anything dumb.” You’ve failed while doing both of those, she thought to herself. She looked down again, wanting to push her bowl away. Now, she wasn’t hungry; she felt sick.

“I’m sorry.” Luke told her quietly, sighing. Clementine didn’t look up. “I shouldn’t have asked.”

But by now, Clementine wasn’t listening. She looked Luke straight in the face and said, “My parents went on vacation and left me with a babysitter. They never came back.” She looked away. “We went to Savannah to find them, but they were already dead.”

“Woah.” Luke whispered, not moving. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

Clementine couldn’t stop herself. She closed her eyes tightly. “This man found me and took care of me. We met up with other survivors and we all tried to make it. But,” She shook her head. “It didn’t work.”

Luke’s shoulders sagged.

“His name was Lee.” Clementine couldn’t stop a smile from coming to her face. “He taught me how to survive.” She looked up at Luke and said, “He taught me how to shoot a gun.”

“What happened to him?”

“The same thing that happens to everyone.” Clementine explained quietly. “But he saved me first. Lots of times.”

“It sounds like he was a real good guy.”

“Yeah, he was.”

They sat in silence, neither having anymore to add to this conversation, before the kitchen door swung open, and a much louder voice filled the room.

“I hate to interrupt,” came Pete’s voice as he walked in, positioning himself at the head of the table. “But I’m out there standin’ watch and I can’t help but notice this place is lit up like a goddamn beacon in the middle of the woods.”

Luke looked from him to Clementine. “Yeah,” he agreed. “It’s prob’ly about time to turn in, anyway.”

“Well, get your winks while you can,” said Pete, walking around to Luke’s side of the table. “We’re goin’ fishin’ at first light, and you’re comin’ with us.”

This immediately got Clementine’s attention. “I am?”

“She is?”

Pete shrugged. “Why not? Couple of fresh brookies for dinner! Mmm, wouldn’t that be nice?”

“I’ve never been fishing.” Clementine pointed out as Luke stood up from his place at the table. “I don’t really know how to fish.”

“You’ll be fine.” Pete told her with a smile. “I’ll show you how when we go.”

Luke grinned. “That oughta be an interestin’ sight.” He turned to Clementine. “Come on, kid, it’s late. You can kip on the couch.”