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twdsunshine · 3 years ago

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Broken: Pt. 1

Summary: Mechanic!Daryl AU. Tabitha Dean has returned to her hometown for the first time in years, fleeing a life that isn’t quite what she thought it would be. When her car breaks down, the mechanic who comes to her rescue is none other than Daryl Dixon, the shy, strange boy that she remembers from her school days. But a lot has changed since then, and, when Tabby’s life catches up with her, she finds herself in need of someone to fix her broken parts. Is Daryl up to the job?

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x OFC

Warnings: None

Word Count: 2,405

Check out my bio for a link to my Masterlist!

Author’s Note: Hello! Welcome to my new Mechanic!Daryl AU with my new OFC, Tabby. This was only gonna be a mini-series to start with, but I got a little carried away, so it’s now looking like it’ll run to about 10 chapters. I’m having a lot of fun writing this one, so I really hope you enjoy reading it! Thank you for taking the time to check it out! (PS. I know absolutely nothing about cars, so no judgement, please. I’ve kept it vague for a reason!)

*****

The car’s engine coughed and sputtered as Tabitha steered it carefully off to the side of the road, straddling the sidewalk to make space for passing traffic should any come along. It creaked as she applied the brake, then gave one last shuddering wheeze and cut out completely. It had been on its last legs for a while now, and she’d put off the repairs, unwilling to dip into her savings when she was so close to having the safety net that she needed. It seemed now that that decision had come back to bite her. Frustration punched a deep groan from her lungs as she pounded her hands against the wheel, letting her head fall forward onto her forearms for a moment. This was the last thing that she needed, but, of course, that only meant that she really should have expected it. She’d learnt long ago that life didn’t have a habit of going her way, and she really should be used to that by now. Especially now.

With a sigh, she reached for her phone, where it sat on the passenger seat, pulling up the web browser and searching for the nearest auto shop that might be able to come out and give her a tow. It had been a long time since she’d last so much as passed through town, and she’d already figured out that there weren’t many places that she still remembered from when she’d called it her home. Thumbing down the screen, she finally settled on one a couple of miles away that seemed to get decent reviews, hovering over the phone number for a moment before finally finding the confidence to dial. She hated doing things like this - booking appointments, reaching out, asking for help - but there was nobody else to do it for her, not anymore. That had been a small price to pay, but it felt far larger in that moment as the line rang, and she waited anxiously for it to connect.

“Grimes Auto,” came the Southern drawl that answered the call. “How can I help you?”

“Oh, er, hi.” Good start, she thought, swallowing hard and forcing herself to press on. “Hi, sorry, I, er… I’ve broken down, just out past the old lumberyard outside of town. My car, I mean. It broke down and, er, I was hoping- I mean, I thought you might be able to-”

“You need a tow?” Obviously tired of her stammering, the voice on the end of the phone cut her off, and she nodded eagerly before remembering that he couldn’t see her.

“Yeah. Yes, please, that would be great. Thank you.”

The man at the shop took a few more details from her before hanging up with the promise that someone would be with her within the next half hour. “If he can, he’ll get you on your way. If not, he’ll tow you back here and we’ll see what needs doin’.”

With that done, Tabby tossed the phone back onto the seat beside her and pushed open her door, figuring she might as well wait outside and make it more obvious that she was stranded for when the truck came along. It was a warm day, and her dark hair clung to her neck as she leaned back against the side of the hood, crossing her denim-clad legs at the ankles and wishing that she hadn’t only thought to bring her boots along when she’d packed in a hurry. Digging into the back pocket of her jeans, she found an old hair tie and bundled her waves onto the top of her head, securing them up and out of the way, swiping the beads of sweat from her forehead. Her shades protected her eyes from the glare of the sun against the asphalt, and she stared off into the distance, drumming her fingers against the metal behind her as she waited.

She was still standing there ten minutes later, watching the spot on the horizon where the road from town snaked into view, when the rumble of an approaching vehicle reached her ears, and, sure enough, if she squinted, she could just make out the mass of a large tow truck rounding the far corner. It trundled along unhurriedly, the rays that bounced off the windshield making it impossible to pick out the driver, but Tabby raised her hand in greeting regardless, relieved that help had arrived and more quickly than she’d expected. At this point, she was holding out for the small wins to get her through the day. Her keys were in her ignition, where she’d left them, and she moved to retrieve them now, swinging them around her finger as she waited for the mechanic to jump down from his cab and come to her aid.

“Yer Tabitha?” The man, when he appeared, didn’t glance up from the clipboard in his hand as he strode over to her, a broad figure clad in light blue overalls. His brow was furrowed in concentration as he leafed through the paperwork before setting it down on the roof of her rundown ride.

“That’s right.”

“Let’s see what we got then.” He popped the hood with no trouble, already leaning over to inspect the engine when he cast over his shoulder, “Wanna tell me what happened?”

“She was making some weird noises,” Tabby explained, sliding her shades up onto the top of her head and shifting awkwardly from foot to foot as she watched him fiddling about with thick, grease-stained fingers. It probably didn’t seem like it, given the car’s current state, but she really did love it and hated to see it poked and prodded at. “Seemed to be struggling, so I pulled her over, and she gave up as soon as I hit the brake.”

“Looks like she’s seen better days.”

“Yeah, well… Haven’t we all?”

At that, he finally turned towards her, straightening up so that she could take in the height of him, towering over her small stature, and the dark hair that flopped across his eyes until he brushed it aside with the back of his hand, leaving a faint smear of oil behind. Recognition sparked in her chest, and she frowned for a moment as she tried to place him, her mind working to erase the lines that creased his skin, but it wasn’t until she noticed the name tag stitched across his chest that she was finally able to figure it out. Daryl.

“It- It’s Dixon, right?” she asked cautiously. “Daryl Dixon?”

At first she thought she might have it wrong as he continued just to look at her, but a few seconds later he nodded, catching his chapped bottom lip between his teeth. “Mmhmm.”

“It’s Tabitha. Tabitha Dean,” she reminded him, though she was sure it was written on the paperwork he’d brought with him from his truck. “Tabby. From high school.”

“I remember.” He ducked his head, pulling a rag from his back pocket to wipe off his fingers before reaching behind him to let the hood fall closed. “Ya’ve had this car since ya was old enough to drive.”

“She was my dad’s.”

“I know.” He trailed his fingertips over the dusty red metal, his gaze travelling along its length as if picturing it before Tabby had let it get into such a sorry state. “1970 Mercury Cougar. Always was a sweet ride.” He cleared his throat, shaking his head slightly, and Tabby felt immediately guilty at her lack of care for the car. It was just one of many things in her life that seemed to have gone so very wrong, just of late. “Trouble is, s’not gonna be easy to get the parts for it. We won’t have nothin’ in stock, that’s for sure. Ya stickin’ round town for a while?”

“I, er… Yeah.” She hadn’t really known, not until that moment, but it seemed that the situation had made her decision for her. “Yeah, for a little while, I think.”

“S’good.” Tucking the rag away, he retrieved his clipboard, taking a note of the vehicle’s licence plate and scribbling down a few notes. “I’ll have to take it in. Ya need a ride?”

“Oh, I…” She tailed off. The truth was, she had several bags of supplies in her back seat and no idea how she was going to get them to the hunting cabin where she was staying, but she was also painfully aware that it was in the opposite direction to town and the auto shop. She supposed, if she hitched a ride back with Daryl, she could then try and find a cab to take her out into the depths of the forest. “Yeah, that would be good, thanks.”

“Ya stayin’ at yer folks’ place? I can drop ya off.”

“Oh, no, I-”

“The cabin then?” Tabby was surprised that he even remembered her dad’s old cabin, buried deep in the woods that bordered the small town, but then he seemed to remember a lot from the way the conversation had gone so far. It struck her as strange, somehow. They’d often ended up seated together in class, just because their surnames were listed together on the register, but they'd never really been friends. He'd been quiet and shy, but he’d obviously been paying attention. “Come with me while I drop yer car off, then I’ll take ya out there.”

“No, Daryl, you don’t have to-”

“S’fine.” He shut down her protests with a small smirk twisting his lips, and she could only nod. She didn’t have the fight left in her to argue, and she didn’t really have any other option.

*****

Tabby waited in the truck while Daryl hitched her car up to be towed back to the auto shop. The radio was tuned to an old country station, though the signal was bad, and it crackled over the songs that played. The air in the cab was tinged with the smell of cigarettes, and she remembered seeing a younger version of the mechanic loitering at one corner of the school parking lot, smoking on his own during the lunch hour. Obviously, it was a habit that had stuck. Not that she minded it. The scent, combined with the lingering traces of engine oil and diesel, was pleasant enough; unfamiliar, which was, in itself, a comfort to her these days. Still, she wound down the window a little, letting fresh air drift in, leaving it open even when he’d climbed back behind the wheel and started the engine, ready to head back to the shop.

It wasn’t far, she knew, and she took the opportunity, whilst Daryl focused on the road, to study him, taking in the things that had changed about him since they’d both been kids and what had remained the same. His eyes, she noticed, were still the same piercing blue that had glared icily at the bullies that would taunt him and call him names. His mouth, when relaxed, still fell into the same tight-lipped scowl that she was sure he’d used as armour against the cruel taunts of the other kids. His hair was a little longer than it used to be, a little darker too, but it suited him, she thought; rounded off his harsh edges and made him look a little softer. Where he’d used to be clean-shaven, or perhaps just too young to grow a beard before, he now had a coarse covering of scruff over his chin, tickling over his top lip, and, if she wasn’t mistaken, it carried just a tiny hint of silver in it, a sure sign that they were both getting older now.

Noticing him shifting uncomfortably under the weight of her attention, Tabby felt her cheeks flush with heat, casting around for something to say to break the silence. “So, a mechanic, huh?”

“Mmhmm.”

“You been doing it long?”

“Since school, pretty much.” He snuck a sideways glance at her, taking in the genuine interest on her face before continuing. “Merle taught me a little. Started pickin’ up some part-time work at a shop on the other side’a town. Then, when Rick opened up, it just made sense, y’know?”

“And you enjoy it?”

“S’alright.”

It seemed that that was as much as she was going to get out of him, and it didn’t matter much as, a few moments later, he swung the truck into a large open yard with a sign standing beside the entrance: Grimes Auto. There were a few parking spots marked out down one side of the lot, but Daryl passed them, pulling up directly in front of the enclosed workshops at the rear. She could see two bays inside, where cars were being worked on, though it was quiet, with no other employees in sight, and Tabby guessed that they must be getting ready to close up for the day.

“I’mma go get your car booked in with Rick,” he told her as he cut the engine, swinging himself out of the cab, boots hitting the concrete with a dull thud. “Should be able to take off then.”

“Great.” She took her time slipping out of her seat, rounding the truck to the ramp at the back, where her car sat, looking even more sorry for itself as it waited to be attended to. “I’m sorry,” she murmured, trailing a hand lovingly down its side. “Should’ve been taking better care of you. They’ll get you fixed up in no time.”

Trying the door and finding it unlocked, she pulled it open, pushing herself up on her tiptoes so that she could grab her cell from the passenger seat and then reach behind to tug out the bags of supplies that she’d stowed there. She piled them at her feet, wondering how on earth she was going to get the final carrier that sat on the rear bench seat, only to find herself nudged aside.

“Ya tryn'a hurt yerself?” Daryl sniped, stretching up and snagging the handles of the bag, dragging it across the seat towards him before lifting it down. “Could’a just waited.”

“Wasn’t sure how long you were gonna be,” she admitted. “I just wanted to be ready to go when you were.”

“M’ready.” He stooped to grab the other bags that she’d managed to retrieve herself, loading himself up with her supplies and leaving her standing uselessly as she watched him take off across the yard. “Ya comin’?”

*****

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#the walking dead #twd #the walking dead fanfiction #twd fanfiction #daryl dixon #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon x ofc #daryl dixon x oc #broken

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bcrichsweetheart · 2 years ago

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Don't Stand So Close To Me - Part 3 - Who Are You

Summary: Eddie puts his new plan into place so Lyra can see he's not a treat and just wants to get to know her. Lyra encounters a jealous bully.

Warning: Swearing, bullying, angst, implied intimacy, talk of abstinence

Word count: 4.5K

Part 2 | Part 4 | Chapter list | Eddie Munson Fanfiction Masterlist

Lyra got off the bus as it pulled up at school. Her brain was abuzz with a night full of played-through scenarios, and ultimately this whole Eddie thing was just too risky.

Sure he had let down his guard a little around her, and he really didn't seem the demon specific sectors of the school ecosystem would have you believe, but on a personal level, he felt dangerous to Lyra. Not because of anything he had done yet, but what she thought he might be capable of.

Eddie had already started chipping away at her walls of defence, and a little was fine, but yesterday he somehow managed to zero in on their weak points, and Lyra could not afford to repeat offend in her parents' eyes. She was on thin ice as it was. Embarrassing them by getting expelled, especially what she had been removed for. She had to keep focused on her work and not get sucked into temptation again.

Lyra gets to her locker and grabs a pen from her bag to jab into the side of the locker door to wrestle it open. She half expects to hear Eddie's voice ring out about how there is a much cooler way to open the door, as usual, but there is nothing. Lyra even checks behind the door, but he's not there.

She shrugs and thinks maybe the universe was cutting her some slack and breathing room. That was until she looked into her locker.

On the back of the door were taped three items. Two sweetheart candies. One said 'Hello,' and the second said 'Be Kind' Lyra smiles and shakes her head. This guy would get a telling off for breaking into her locker, but the candies were amusing.

Underneath both of those was a cassette tape. It looked like a blank.

Lyra peels away the cassette. It had no tracklist. She opened up the case, and inside were two pieces of paper. One was a note of some kind. The other had 'Lyrics' written at the top.

Lyra quickly checks around her for anyone near enough to read over her shoulder, and the hallways are filling up a little, so she leaves the candies, pockets the tape and its documentation, makes the great book exchange for the day and heads to the ladies.

She finds an empty cubicle and unfolds the note.

"Lyra,

I know, personally, that sometimes it's hard to find the words.

I thought that instead of saying the words you don't mean, if you wanted to, you could get someone else to say the real ones for you.

She knows from the scratchy black and red handwriting this was Eddie. So at least that mystery was solved.

Lyra folds up the note slowly, confused by what he meant until she reads the second sheet.

"Lyrics:

'Who are you?

I really wanna know.'

Lyra takes the tape, puts it in her Walkman, and hears the intro to "Who are you" by The Who. She smiles broadly to herself in this private environment where she could allow it.

An incredibly sweet gesture, she thought. Lyra quickly corrects her brain. Kind, an incredibly kind gesture. Especially after nearly half a year of being fairly sharp with him, sometimes losing her temper with him.

Her brain jumps ahead severalfold. What was his end game? Probably the same as all guys this age. They all seem kind at first, don't they? Until you're standing in a room, defending yourself against their onslaught of lies.

She sighs and tries to shake the negativity from her mind. Calm down. Just take it at face value. It was a kindness.

Lyra tucked the note in her wallet and the lyrics sheet back in the tape case along with the tape itself and put it in a small zip compartment of her bag.

With her headphones still on her head, Lyra steps out of the cubicle only to be confronted by a tall, slender girl all decked out in her cheerleading garb.

"Tabitha?" Lyra asks, puzzled, "Everything ok?"

Tabitha almost sneers in reply and pokes Lyra back into the stall, "I think we need a little chat."

----+++----+++----+++----+++----+++----+++----+++----+++----+++----

Eddie was excited to see how his new idea would be received, but also, he had to "break into" someone else's locker to do it and not get caught. He had gotten up and made it to school much earlier than everyone else.

He'd double-checked the cassette worked in his van and made sure to rewind it before placing it in the case. Next, he checked over the notes to ensure the letters were clear and couldn't be misinterpreted by Lyra. Once satisfied, he put them in the cassette.

He must have purchased ten packets of love heart type sweets to ensure he could find the ones he wanted. A groan of annoyance emits from Eddie when they both appear within the first 8 sweets of the first packet he opens. He shrugs and pours the unwanted ones from the first pack into his mouth as a makeshift sweet and chalky breakfast.

He heads inside, runs up and down the hallway making sure the coast is clear and jogs back up to his old locker, "Hey, honey. Remember me?" He says gently to the metal door in front of him.

He puts the pins in the lock to turn as the key with no issue at all. Next, he runs his left hand down the left-hand side of the door until he feels the little bump under his palm. Then, with his right at the top right corner of the locker, he hits both spots simultaneously, and the door pops open.

"Still got it", Eddie whispers in congratulations to himself. The only reason this old door was so fucked was because of the number of times Eddie had been shoved into it by Hawkins douchebags. Alas, only one time by a play co-star after hours. He could still feel the cold steel slam against the back of his head now. He sometimes wondered if not for his mass of curly hair that, the impacts would have been a lot worse.

It grieved Eddie sometimes that if he'd known, all it would take was a change in clothes, attitude, being very vocal about playing D&D and a few satanic symbols. He would have done it years before.

It very rarely happened to him now, but when it did, he'd just laugh or let them know how much he liked it, especially being so close to them. Most of them malfunctioned at those antics. Mostly in disgust, or at least a big show of disgust. A few had given him that doe-eyed look for a split second during their rant about how much of a scourge Eddie was on Hawkins. Then he would lock eyes with them and smile, and Eddie knew they wanted to be close to him too. They'd let him go immediately after that. Some never bothered him again, some bothered him at a later date in private in a preferable manner, and some never bothered him at all in any way again through sheer fear of being outed.

Eddie wasn't foolish enough to be open about his preferences at school. He wasn't a complete idiot. He just knew how to push buttons sufficient to make the prudes recoil, to leave him and hellfire alone.

Almost any evidence of this being his old locker was gone. All the Corroded Coffin and Hellfire flyers and stickers. The band pins he'd turned into magnets. The broken shard of mirror. The images of guitars. All gone, now.

Looking deeper into the locker, Eddie could see that some things had stayed. His drawing of Bilbo's house, one of his old D&D characters, an Elf Mage named Ser'en. Scorched by fire, her black hooded billowing tattered cloak still flew around her flame red hair and piercing emerald eyes. She was so badass to play. Eddie thought he should bring her back as a non-player character one of these days.

Eddie rips several pieces of clear scotch tape off with his teeth and attaches them to the side of the locker. Then, peeling pieces off as he needed them to affix the items to the inside of Lyra's door. Then he locks the door back up and gives it a little pat.

Now all he had to do was wait, and that might have been the most challenging part of any day for Eddie. Waiting for something to happen.

He must have tried out viewing points from all over the hallway before she finally arrived. He didn't want to be right in her face or at his own locker where her eyes could find him. He just wanted to see an honest reaction from her, not a curated one.

Eddie leans against the side of Jeff's locker because he can half hide behind it, and as Hellfire crowd one another, Eddie can just peer through them.

"You're here early, Eddie", Jeff muses, "And you're at my locker?"

"Yeah, well, nice to have a change of scenery sometimes, isn't it?" Eddie quickly scans the hall and nods toward some passing cheerleaders. "You know how they avoid my locker," Eddie says in a creepy old man voice at Jeff, making him laugh. Soon the other members arrived. The last few he knew caught the same bus as Lyra.

Eddie adjusts his position again so he can glance at Lyra's locker whenever but still look like he was half paying attention to the current conversation, making sure to be a quieter Eddie this morning to not warn her of his presence.

She finally gets to her locker, and Eddie subconsciously straightens up his posture and vest. Fuck he thinks, checking to see if anyone noticed before settling back into his lean. Everyone seems to be still happily chatting away. He's got away with it.

Lyra wrestles with her locker as standard, armed only with her trusty pen for leverage. Eddie shakes his head.

"Uh, you don't think so?" Gareth complains, "I tell you, I'm ten times the drummer that band has currently got!"

Eddie realises his movements have been dragged into the very animated conversation around him and thinks quickly, "Ten? No...I'd give you five times at a push. All that marching and drumming is an absolute killer." Gareth seems satisfied with the fact at least Eddie thinks he's better, and the conversation continues.

Eddie glances back for a few moments and sees her check behind the door for him. It's all he can do not to laugh. He just grips onto his wallet chain in anticipation instead.

Then she looks over at his locker and down the hall, but her eyes don't find him. Then she does this little shrug like she's almost disappointed. Eddie's hand reaches for his own chest.

"You ok?" Kevin asks quietly, with concern in his voice. He was one of the newest members of hellfire, painfully shy. Eddie would put money on him being a friend of Dorothy's but never pushed the issue or asked him about it.

Eddie quickly snaps back to the conversation for a moment and looks down where his hand is. "Oh yeah, just a touch of indigestion, I think. Candy for breakfast," he laughs, "I'll be fine in a few." Kevin smiles up at Eddie and gets reabsorbed into the group conversation.

Eddie quickly glances back over. He watches the smile on her face appear, and her eyes widen with surprise as she opens the locker. Eddie feels one of his own start to emerge and quickly presses his lips together in a bid to fight it.

Then something unexpected happens. Lyra looks at the notes but doesn't read them. Instead, she looks around and quickly makes off with them.

"Fuck!" Eddie accidentally says out loud.

Hellfire all look at him with wide eyes.

"As you were hellions, I just remembered something I need to do." He smiles, grabs his bag, and moves quickly down the hall, still following her at a distance.

Eddie tries to snake his way through the crowds, but he inadvertently bumps into a few people trying to keep up with Lyra. He sees her take a sharp left, screws up his fist and bites it in annoyance. The fucking toilets. God damn it!

Eddie can't really stare at the door of the girl's toilets without causing some kind of a stir, so he stays back and pretends to read his book, leaning against the corner of a wall, where he can at least occasionally glance at the turning.

He wonders to himself what Lyra's reaction might be, is she laughing at his suggestion, is it already in the toilet being flushed away to God knows where is she frowning or enraged, or is there that minuscule chance she's lifted the paper to her face and smelt the cologne he dropped a little of on the note. Just as an extra clue this was all from him, obviously.

He manages to stay like this for a few seconds, running through scenarios in his head before he's interrupted. A sly pinch on his backside.

"Eddie, hello?!" Says an annoyed voice under her breath.

Eddie shakes his head back to the reality of the hallway, "Uh, sorry, Tabatha. I didn't see you there", he says, behind his book quietly. He knew better than to talk directly to her in public, primarily because her circle of friends was the sports bunch.

"You just like pushed passed me twice and blanked me", she seethes into her compact mirror, "Anyway, I thought we could do the exchange at lunch, you know?"

"Yeah, yeah, sure." He says quickly, his eyes glancing back up at the turning, immediately realising he was doing this all wrong, but the anticipation was eating him up inside.

This was Tabatha, he'd had a crush on her for years, and for a discount on weed, he was finally getting to explore some of that on a monthly basis, fifteen minutes at a time. He'd forgotten it was today, and 'yeah yeah, sure' was not gonna help him get any further in their trysts. What the fuck was wrong with him today? Urgh, idiot!

"Sorry, Tabs, I got this play coming up and finals, you know. So, of course, angel, anything you want," he says much more gently into his book.

"That's more like it", she purrs quietly, her arm brushing Eddie's and it sending a shiver down his spine. Of course, a relationship between the two of them could never happen, definitely not whilst at school, but even if it could happen, they had very little in the way of common interests, but when had that stopped anyone before, right?

Tabatha was so hot. Like, so extremely hot, it was near to impossible to resist. The extra kicker for Eddie was that she was part of the abstinence club, and she and her boyfriend Adam were apparently waiting for marriage. Eddie knew neither of them were. Sometimes that knowledge made him feel downright wicked and kind of powerful, and sometimes it made him resent them deeply.

Eddie's eyes get drawn back to the turning and still, nothing, had he missed her? They had the same class in a while. He could ask her then.

"Are you waiting for someone else, Eddie?" Tabitha whispers, maybe with a tinge of jealousy. They both knew this wasn't exclusive, but the scales were imbalanced. She could be as jealous as she wanted. Eddie wasn't allowed. He was just supposed to understand and accept. A year down the line, he'd trained himself to do exactly that, but she had not.

"What is it to you if I was, Tabs? You know they couldn't possibly compare, right?" Eddie quietly states with a bit of sarcasm that he doesn't know if she'll pick up on it. It was just to tease her. She knew damn well how good she looked and how wound Eddie was around her little finger.

Tabatha snaps her compact shut and heads into the ladies herself. Eddie waits a few more minutes for Lyra and then heads to class.

Mrs Poole actually clutches her pearls as Eddie enters the class first. He nods a greeting at her and heads straight to his desk.

Once in his seat, there is an awkward five minutes or so when it is just the two of them. Occasionally their eyes meet, Eddie would give her a false closed-mouth smile, and she would look away quickly, sharpen a pencil, or go clean the board.

Eddie slowly finds these interactions more and more amusing, making his smile more enormous and more crazy or sinister each time. She was evidently terrified of him, and he found it ridiculous.

Eventually, people started filing in, and Eddie resumed his usual doodling on his notepad, pretending to not notice his surroundings. However, the first student who enters the room after him immediately gets beckoned to Mrs Poole's desk for an in-depth discussion, making Eddie laugh.

The class seats start filling, but no sign of Lyra is yet. She was never late. Eddie chews the inside of his cheek nervously.

Maybe it was a stupid thing to suggest. Lyra was quite uptight, perhaps the act of giving someone a tape seemed a bit romantic, like a mixtape, but obviously, it wasn't meant that way at all. No way! He just wanted to get to know her. Like he wanted to since day two of seeing her, and also like his Uncle suggested. It just made sense, right? Yeah, that was all. Then he could see if they could be friends, and she wouldn't have to be all alone.

Just as Eddie has assured himself, he's done the right thing and gained a self pat on the back. Lyra enters the classroom, he feels his posture straighten up, but then he forces it back down. He turns to her to try and catch her eye, but her head is bowed down.

She puts her stationary on the table as standard. She fiddles with everything until it's to her liking, but her pencil, she keeps adjusting it slightly, and again, and again. Finally, she turns it completely the other way around.

All the fidgeting is making Eddie feel on edge. He knows that obsessive altering behaviour. He's done it himself more times than he cared to count. It was about control and grounding, the way her fingers traced over the pencil ridges before she moved it. She's counting them.

As soon as Mrs Poole is absorbed in writing on the board, Eddie takes his chance, "Hey, Lyra. Are you ok?" It feels stupid as it leaves his mouth; he knows she isn't, but she does finally look at him.

Eddie's heart plummets to depths. Lyra stares back at him hard, trembling, her eyes red-rimmed and swollen, lashes wet, tear tracks down her cheeks she roughly wipes away when she catches his eyes tracing them, and her mouth tight, holding in everything she can. All she gives him is a sharp "No" before she turns her attention back to the table.

Eddie feels another set of eyes boring into him. He half expects it to be Mrs Poole, but it isn't. It's Tabatha. She looks between Eddie and Lyra and then turns back around.

"Right, so do we have any topics we'd like to centre the debate around today?" Mrs Poole looks around the class, hopefully. Her eyes purposefully avoid Eddie. Not that he cared much right now. He was worried for Lyra. He wanted to explain it was just a friendly thing, he hadn't meant to upset her this much, and maybe he overstepped her boundaries, and he was sorry, and he could fix it.

Tabatha's hand shoots up. "Yes, Tabatha?" Mrs Poole says kindly.

"I think we should talk about something brought to our attention over the last few months. It's a plague of sin affecting our school." Tabatha begins.

Mrs Poole's eyes go directly to Eddie, who mouths, "Years" at her making her look away again.

"What sin specifically are you talking about, Tabatha?" Mrs Poole enquires.

Eddie disengages from the class conversation and pretends to drop something on the floor to lean over to Lyra, "I'm sorry", he whispers.

"Leave me alone", Lyra whispers back with annoyance in her voice.

"No! I mean... I will. I just didn't mean to upset you with the tape. I'm sorry." Eddie tries again quietly before settling back in his chair.

Lyra turns to him, her brow in a deep frown, "No. It's not-" Lyra starts before Tabatha's voice rings out, and they both turn towards it.

"Lust, Mrs Poole. There have been rumours floating around the school for months now. Detailing all sorts of depraved things, and I for one think it's finally got to the truth of the matter, stop these rumours from infecting the purity of Hawkins High."

Eddie hears a pencil snap from Lyra's desk and puts his hand to his face, dragging his fingers down his jaw.

"Tabatha, I'm not sure it's an entirely appropriate topic of conversation." Mrs Poole says, a little flustered.

"Oh, but Mrs Poole, if we don't discuss it in a setting like this, it's only going to be twisted by the rumour mill. Maybe it can be a much simpler debate and appropriate. I believe that sex before marriage is entirely wrong. Abstinence is difficult but not impossible. Sometimes we might be led astray by temptation, but we can resist. Well, as long as you are not of weak moral fibre, that is," Tabatha states plainly, as innocently as she can.

"Well said, Tabatha. I doubt anyone would argue with that reasoning. Probably not much room for debate," Mrs Poole nervously chuckles.

A hand pierces the air, "Well, like, is that more of, like, well, a religious stance? But, like, not everyone in school follows the same, like, religion, ya know." Toby, one of the resident skateboarders, asks.

"It can have religious roots, yes, but some people would rather save themselves for their forever person anyway. It's just good morals. Wouldn't you want that for you and your future wife?" Mrs Poole asks nervously, expecting the worst.

"Damn. I dunno. I guess I wouldn't care all that much. What's wrong with experience?" Toby asks genuinely, "I would not mind that...not at all," he says, directing his words toward Lyra and giggling a little, which ripples through the classroom.

Eddie isn't laughing. He sees Lyra's head bow a little more towards the desk she is etching into with her broken pencil.

"So what you are saying, Toby, is you'd prefer a whore, or slut, riddled with God knows what for a wife?" Tabatha sneers at him.

"Hey, I'll take what I can get." Toby laughs, a few others joining in.

Tabatha rolls her eyes, "I feel this proves my point about weak moral fibre", she says as she gestures at Toby.

Another hand pierces the air sharply. This time it's ignored.

"Tabatha, I feel language like that doesn't need to be used to prove your point. Shall we move on to something else?" Mrs Poole tries to encourage. Until there is a loud bang of a fist hitting the desk, and all eyes are drawn to it.

Eddie raises his hand and pounces as soon as Mrs Poole makes eye contact.

"If I may, whilst I agree with some of the questions raised by our good friend Toby here. I feel like the main problem with sex before marriage is being avoided. It's patriarchal bullshit."

"Language!" Mrs Poole tries to shout over him, but he's out of his seat now.

"You can't see why some guy hundreds of years ago was like, oh when I get married, I want someone who has no experience at all? I'll tell you why. It's because he doesn't want a woman to tell him he's bad at it or that someone was better."

"Eddie, sit down!" Mrs Poole protests, but she is unheard as he paces around the class.

"God forbid a woman held power, or experience or knowledge over a man, especially not in the bedroom. Where his masculinity is really meant to shine." Eddie gives the class a jazz hands-type move, causing a few laughs.

"Edward Munson!! I won't tell you again to"

Eddie moves through a few desks until he's near the front so Tabatha can hear him clearly. He knew she was a complete bitch, and he had no problem with that, but a bully? Eddie couldn't stand it.

"And what is saddest of all is when a woman tears another woman down, for the approval of a man, who couldn't give two shits about how satisfied she is in the bedroom, her dreams of their nuclear family life together, her actual existence as a fellow human being and ultimately ding, ding, ding will trade her in for another as soon as he has an excuse to. Which, by the way, is eight times out of ten sex-related."

"Ok, that's quite enough. I'm calling the principal."

Eddie walks around to his desk and collects his things.

"If you want to save yourself for someone special, do it. If you don't, then don't. Just be smart about it. And most importantly, it's not your fucking business which of those choices anyone else makes, and if they wanted your opinion on their life, they would have asked for it. "

Eddie wanted to say more, so much more. He wanted to out their behaviours and display them for the hypocrites they were, but he resisted for two reasons. One, he did not want his head kicked in, and two, if he did, they could fight back and defend themselves, but if he didn't, they'd just have to stew.

"All of that is coming from a real privileged position. Not everyone gets to make that choice themselves. So maybe before you start judging someone about something that you shouldn't even be thinking about, you total perverts, you should assess yourselves first. Stones and glass and all that mumbo jumbo." Eddie wiggles his fingers and crosses his eyes before sitting down and awaiting his escort to the principles office.

Eddie didn't need the class to know who was doing what. He just needed the select few to see, he had the ammo, and this was a warning shot.

Mrs Poole glares at Eddie and looks around the class, "Maybe we can spend the rest of the class writing a small piece about how judgement can affect anyone of us."

Eddie turns to look at Lyra, who is busy packing her stuff, tears streaming down her face. Had he made everything worse now? He was so confused. He just wanted to help her. To protect her.

Lyra pushes a note onto Eddie's desk before storming out of the class.

Eddie opens it up quickly as soon as she's gone.

"The tape was fine, it didn't upset me, but I don't need you to stand up for me."

#eddie munson #stranger things #eddiemunson #eddie stranger things #stranger things fanfiction #eddie munson fanfic #fanfiction #eddie x reader #romance #eddie munson x oc #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson oc

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edgarsabandonedrocketship · 3 years ago

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to be honest i’m wondering why would tabitha seek archie's help with the diner on 615 while jughead is helping veronica with her own business. shouldn’t it be jughead since pops is important to him and also he is tabitha’s boyfriend? don’t know if it’s a break up per se but it is weird how this is a choice from the writers – they are barely are involved in each other’s problems.

Thanks for the ask, dear Anon!

These are interesting choices, for sure. On the one hand, I do think the writers have been trying to make amends for last season’s isolation of the characters. These people are supposedly friends, so it makes sense they’d help each other even if they’re not dating.

On the other hand, it does seem a bit odd that Jughead wouldn’t be heavily involved in the Pop’s storyline, given his fondness for the place and the fact he led Tabitha down the road of trying to register it as a historic site. That said, all we have right now is an episode synopsis and a few stills without context, so it’s entirely possible that Jughead and Veronica’s storyline will intersect with Tabitha and Archie’s to at least some degree.

In any case, these team-ups are almost certainly happening for plot-related purposes. So, what might those be? I don’t know, but I’d guess that Veronica’s going to enlist Jughead’s mind-reading abilities to help thwart whatever play Reggie’s making on the casino. Will this mean Jughead will be “Forsythe the Fantastic” every Tuesday and Thursday night until his superpowers go away and/or he “dies” in the looming “battle" with Percival? I have no idea, but I’d bet Veronica pays better than Pop’s/teaching/The Riverdale Choice, so perhaps we’ll see Jughead perform his act in future episodes, if the plot demands it.

I’m not sure why Tabitha would enlist Archie to help her with Pop’s, but he’s holding a hardhat in the still so it could involve construction. Maybe Pop’s isn’t up to code (is any building in Riverdale?) and Percival is trying to get her on that? Maybe Archie needs to be onsite because he's important to the “Ghost Train” stuff that’s supposedly coming? Maybe Archie will pester Tabitha about changing the past (Fred’s death) and her inability to do so will upset him, thereby opening the door for Percival to lure him to Team Evil by promising to deliver what he wants?

These team-ups will also probably provide a way to discuss key topics that require a perspective other than a romantic partner's. For example, the synopsis states that Betty will “open up to Agent Drake about her ability to see auras.” It’s unlikely that this will be a “just because” conversation. It seems more likely that Agent Drake, an expert on supernatural phenomena, will offer some valuable insights about Betty’s new skillset and how to best use it. Or something along those lines.

I don’t know if any of this signals a break-up between any of the (still-dating) couples, but the events of this episode could reveal new cracks in the relationships or apply additional stress to existing ones. My hunch is that the show plans to drag the ships out until closer to season's end. I’ve seen others theorize that at least one split may happen around the musical (6x17?), which makes sense to me. I also think it’s unlikely that multiple break-ups will occur in the same episode (even if the ships got together in the same two episodes…), so it’s possible one’s coming in the lead-up to the musical (i.e. soon). We’ll have to wait and see.

#anon asks #riverdale speculation #anti b*rchie #anti j*bitha #not really but just in case

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ollieofthebeholder · 4 years ago

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leaves too high to touch (roots too strong to fall): a TMA fanfic

Tumblr tag || Also on AO3

Chapter 26: Jon

When Jon’s grandmother passed away peacefully in her sleep, not long after his twenty-fourth birthday, he quickly discovered that her life insurance and savings weren’t enough to cover all the bills that needed to be covered and put the house he’d grown up in on the market. He only vaguely remembers the whole procedure, as he was in something of a state of shock at the time, but he does remember accepting the first offer presented to him despite the realtor’s comments that he could “probably hold out for a bit more” if he wanted. Thus, he’s the only one not really startled at the speed with which he, Martin, and Tim find out that they’ve got the house.

To be clear: He’s not startled at the speed. He is, however, startled that they got it. Surely someone must have been willing to pay more for it, been better qualified. But no. They learn their offer has been accepted less than a week after the Primes’ disastrous encounter with Basira’s partner and the closing is scheduled for the following Friday. Martin theorizes that their position at the Magnus Institute gave them some extra clout. Tim jokes that it’s his charismatic personality. Jon frets that Elias might have had something to do with it for nefarious purposes.

Sasha finally does some research and tells them that it’s being sold by a pair of siblings barely out of their teens whose parents died unexpectedly and probably just need the money fast.

Martin doesn’t have much, just the little he managed to bring with him to the Institute when first escaping Jane Prentiss and the few things he’s re-acquired since then, and Jon’s things are still packed up from when he declined to renew the lease on his flat in August, so it’s mostly just Tim who needs to decide what he’s keeping and what he’s ready to part with or needs to replace. It takes them the better part of two Saturdays, but they manage to get everything boxed and sorted in time to move out the last full weekend of September.

The moving-in process is surprisingly fun. Sasha and the Primes even come to help (Tim suggests the latter so that Martin Prime knows his way around the house from the get-go, which is actually really sensible) and they make a party of it. Tim insists on setting up the sound system first, then gets everyone to contribute a certain number of songs to a playlist on some app he has on his phone. He puts it on shuffle and lets it play while they work together on the various rooms.

“Oh, my God,” Sasha moans after the eighth song that she evidently didn’t pick comes on. “Do any of you listen to a single band that’s put out an album since 1984?”

“Yes,” Martin says indignantly, his cheeks coloring slightly.

“Remasters don’t count.”

Martin Prime grins. “None of mine have come up, either.”

“What did you put on?” Sasha asks suspiciously.

She gets her answer a few minutes later when, after shuffle coughs up a Spice Girls song they all tease her mercilessly about, an honest to God sea shanty comes on. Tim and Jon laugh at Sasha’s dramatic, despairing groan, but it’s hard not to respond to the Martins’ enthusiasm as they—surprisingly—harmonize along with the recording while they set up the living room.

They’re almost done assembling the new bed Tim bullied Jon into buying (“You’re not in uni anymore, you don’t need to be sleeping on a futon, and anyway, when was this made, the Thatcher premiership?” “Brown, and shut up, Tim.”), which is the last piece of furniture they need to put together, when there’s a sound from the front door—two firm, solid knocks, audible all the way upstairs. Jon nearly drops the screwdriver as his heart kicks against his ribs. It’s stupid, and he knows it’s stupid, but two knocks like that always makes him think of that book.

Tim makes a noise in the back of his throat. “God, hope the music isn’t too loud.”

“I don’t think that’s it,” Martin says, but he sounds uncertain. “I-I mean, it’s been ages.”

Jon pushes himself to his feet. “I’ll check.”

He hurries out of the bedroom before anyone can comment on the clear break in his voice. He is, and there is no way to deny it to himself, legitimately afraid of what might be outside. The likelihood of it being a being of another entity is slim, but…well, there was Mr. Spider, and Jane Prentiss knocked on Martin’s door more than a few times to keep him off-balance, so there’s always the chance. It’s something he feels he can deal with, though, so he heads out to face it.

He does not, however, expect to open the door and be faced with what is either a small child or a casserole dish with tennis shoes.

“Hello,” a tiny voice says brightly from behind the dish. There’s a bit of shifting, and then two big brown eyes and a mass of curls appear over the rim. “I’ve brought you a cake.”

Jon will deny to his dying day that those words freeze his blood in his veins and make his heart stutter to a stop, but since this might actually be his dying day, he’ll be lying if he tries. His lips part, but no sound comes out.

“And a casserole, too,” the child continues, completely oblivious to Jon’s unwarranted panic attack. “That’s not as much fun, though, but Nan says it’s important to eat good, hearty food when you’ve been doing lots of work and that cake shouldn’t be a whole meal. I think there’s no point in being a grown-up if you can’t eat whatever you want, but…” The child heaves an enormous, dramatic sigh that seems too large for such a small body. “My Nan’s very, very old, and you don’t get to be old if you don’t do something right, so she must know what she’s talking about. Anyway, we made the casserole with lots and lots of cheese and she said that was okay, so at least it’s a little better.”

“Ah—thank you?” Jon manages. “H-here, let me…take that.”

He manages to extract the casserole dish, which certainly feels as if it’s laden with cheese; it weighs the proverbial ton. Quite possibly a literal one. It’s solid enough to anchor Jon to reality, though, and he studies his benefactor. The child can’t be more than seven or eight, at the most, with a round face and limbs hidden in an oversized, threadbare sweater that looks like it’s been handed down through more than a few generations. Dangling from one arm is a wicker basket that does indeed appear to contain a cake.

“It’s a chocolate cake with marshmallow frosting,” the child says. “I tried to write ‘Welcome to the neighborhood’ on it, but I didn’t put the tip on the piping bag right and it came off, so now it’s just a mess, but it’ll taste just as good, I promise. My Nan makes the best cakes.”

Jon smiles in spite of himself. “I don’t think I have enough hands to take it from you now. Would you mind bringing it into the kitchen for me?”

“Oh, sure!” The child practically hops over the threshold. “I always wanted to see what this house was like on the inside. Tibby used to babysit for me sometimes, but she always came over to our house, never me coming over here. Nan says it’s better that way, and Tibby always said it was laid out exactly like all the other houses, but it’s not the same as seeing it for yourself. Firsthand knowledge is best, that’s what I think. What do you think?”

“I—I think I agree with you,” Jon says. He also feels a bit like he’s staring at his younger self. “I assume you live in one of the other houses on the row?”

“Two doors down,” the child agrees cheerfully. “With the window boxes. My Nan likes to garden a bit, but she can’t bend over so much anymore, so Toby set up the window boxes for her a couple years ago.”

“And, uh, who is…Toby?”

“Oh, sorry, I thought you knew. Toby McGill. He and Tibby—that’s his sister Tabitha, but everyone calls her Tibby—they were the ones selling this house after their parents died. He’s at Surrey University now and he says he’s going to stay out there when it’s all said and done, and Tibby got a job on a boat.” The child sounds deeply impressed. “I want to be a sailor someday, too. Can you imagine getting to see the whole wide world by water and getting paid for it, too? I’d never want to leave. I told Tibby she has to save a spot on the crew for me and she laughed and promised, so I can’t wait. I’m going as soon as I grow up. I’m not going to university. You don’t need to go to university for everything, you know. I know Nan really wants me to go ‘cause Mum didn’t and neither did Dad and she doesn’t want me turning out like them, but you can turn out well even if you don’t go to university, can’t you?”

“Absolutely,” Jon says gravely. He casts an involuntary glance in the direction of the stairs, thinking of Martin. “One of my housemates didn’t go to university, and he’s one of the most brilliant people I know.”

“How many of you live here, anyway?”

“Just three of us.” Jon has no idea how much this child has seen and how many people he knows are in the house at the moment.

“Oh. There used to be three of us in my house, too.” The child scuffs a toe against the carpet just before they step into the kitchen. “And then there was going to be four, but Mum died and the baby did, too.”

“I’m sorry,” Jon says softly, feeling a pang. “I grew up with my grandmother, too.”

The child looks up at Jon and smiles, in such a way that Jon can’t help but smile back. “And you turned out okay.”

“Debatable,” Jon says. He sets the casserole dish on the counter. “I’m Jon, by the way. Jonathan Sims.”

“I’m Charlie. Charlie Cane.” The child smiles up at him and hands over the basket. “It’s nice to meet you.”

“Likewise. Tell your grandmother we said thank you. I don’t know that any of us will have the energy to cook tonight. We’ll bring back the dishes tomorrow.”

“There’s no hurry. Nan doesn’t go anywhere.” Charlie flashes Jon a grin that’s missing two teeth, then turns and waves to the doorway. Jon glances up to see Martin, looking somewhere between worried and amused. “Hi! I’m Charlie Cane. Welcome to the neighborhood. Do you live here, too?”

“Um…yes. I’m Martin Blackwood. It’s…nice to meet you?” Martin raises an eyebrow at Jon.

“Charlie and his grandmother made us a casserole,” Jon says, gesturing at the counter. “And a cake.”

“That’s very nice of you. Thank you.” Martin smiles at Charlie and winks, although Jon doesn’t quite understand why.

“Welcome.” Charlie’s beaming smile could probably light the house for a week. “I’d best go before Nan thinks I’m doing something stupid again. See you later!”

He’s out the front door before Jon can respond, or even blink. He looks back to Martin, who isn’t even trying to hide his amusement. “Is everything okay?”

“Everything’s fine, Jon. We were just wondering if you were okay. You were gone for a while.”

Jon gestures vaguely at the front door. “I don’t think that child has many people to talk to. Or at least not many people who will listen to him.”

Martin snorts. “I think you’ve got yourself a new best friend.”

Jon almost wants to say something flippant like Just what I need, but thinking on it, he actually doesn’t mind all that much. “Considering how much I would have given to have an adult pay that kind of attention to me when I was his age, I think I can handle that.”

Martin reaches over and pulls Jon into a hug. Jon lets himself be comforted for a moment, then extricates himself gently and smiles. “Come on. Let’s see if the others are ready to eat.”

As it turns out, the others finished putting together the bed and even made it while Jon talked to Charlie, so they’re all too happy to come into the kitchen for a hearty meal. It’s exactly as cheese-laden as Charlie promised. Jon recounts his conversation, to general amusement, although something flickers briefly across Martin Prime’s face and Jon Prime shoots Jon an understanding and slightly frightened look when he repeats Charlie’s opening words. If anyone else notices, they give no sign of it.

Tim lets the music keep playing while they eat. Jon mostly tunes it out, no pun intended, and he rather suspects the others do too. But just as they’re scraping their plates clean—the food is delicious, and Tim declares he’s going to try and charm Charlie’s grandmother out of the recipe—Martin Prime suddenly tilts his head to one side, as if trying to catch a sound. A smile twitches at his lips, and he stands up and holds out a hand to Jon Prime. “May I?”

Jon Prime looks startled for a split-second, then smiles—no, grins—and places his hand in Martin Prime’s. He lets Martin Prime pull him away from the table and into his arms, and the two of them start slow-dancing.

Jon pauses, fork suspended over his plate, and watches them. Jon Prime lets Martin Prime lead him in a simple box step, one arm draped casually over Martin Prime’s shoulder, while Martin Prime’s hand rests firmly at his waist; their other fingers are laced together in a way that would make it difficult to telegraph intended moves if they didn’t—probably—know each other so well. The space between them is so little it’s a wonder they don’t constantly trip over each other’s feet, and before long their foreheads touch. The song is gentle and plaintive, encouragement from one partner to the other to trust and relax and allow the first to take care of the second, a promise that the second person won’t be considered weak or lesser if they allow themselves to be comforted.

I promise you’ll be safe here in my arms…

Martin Prime lifts his arm and spins Jon Prime around gently, and when Jon Prime comes back into the closed frame, he leans his head against the shoulder where his hand isn’t resting and closes his eyes. Martin Prime pulls him closer and rests his cheek alongside Jon Prime’s as they continue dancing. It’s one of the most intimate and romantic things Jon has ever seen, and he almost has to look away from it.

Almost. Not quite. Something keeps him drawn, and there’s a tiny part of Jon’s brain that suggests it probably isn’t just the pleasure at seeing someone who’s basically him safe and happy and in love mixed with the vague sense of longing for something like that—maybe not that exactly, but something like it. It may also be that watching the Primes slow dancing means he doesn’t have to look at anyone else.

The song plays itself out. Martin Prime turns his head slightly; Jon Prime turns his at the same time, and their lips meet gently in the middle. This time Jon does look away. He’s never quite been able to figure out how he feels about kissing, to be honest; it’s one of the things that sent his and Georgie’s relationship down in flames, was the fact that he always acted like you think I’ve got poison in my lip gloss, according to her. But he finds himself wondering for a moment what Martin’s lips would feel like against his, if they’d be as soft and warm as the rest of him. If it might make a difference to kiss Martin instead of Georgie, or Meredith, or Kelly. And that’s not a question he’s comfortable asking himself just then, let alone trying to answer.

The scrape of a chair breaks his attention, and he looks up to see the Primes sitting down like nothing happened, although they’re still holding hands. Tim clears his throat. “Who wants cake?”

The cake is, as promised, a bit of a mess—it looks like someone tried to tease out the blob created by the icing tip popping off with a toothpick or something, but the resultant design looks like the pictures someone showed Jon once of a web woven by a spider that had been fed caffeine, and the fact that the icing is bright red doesn’t help—but it is absolutely delicious.

Afterward, Tim and Jon store the leftovers while Martin and Sasha start on the dishes. Jon Prime glances at the kitchen clock and touches Martin Prime on the shoulder. “We should probably go. The later it gets, the more likely that…someone might cruise by the Institute, and I’d rather not risk that.”

Martin Prime squeezes Jon Prime’s hand gently, and Jon swallows on the sudden surge of nausea. They haven’t seen anything of Detective Tonner, and Basira didn’t say anything about her when she showed up last week to switch out the tapes, but the memory of the Primes’ faces when they stumbled back to Tim’s place to change and return his car is a hard one to shake. Even though Jon Prime swears he and Daisy eventually became friends, it’s the eventually that sticks out, and Jon isn’t sure what he’ll do if Daisy turns up at the Institute. It’s also obvious that the Primes are more afraid of her than they’re letting on.

Tim opens his mouth, probably to invite them to spend the night or something, but Sasha beats him to it. “Can you wait a few minutes? I’d rather not walk to the tube station by myself, if it comes to that, and I think you said there’s an entrance to the tunnels near there.”

Jon Prime frowns slightly. “I…don’t think I did, but there is.”

“We’ll walk with you, Sasha,” Martin Prime assures her.

Tim sighs theatrically. “I feel a little better, which is a relative statement not to be taken as approval.”

“Your objection is duly noted.” Sasha hands Martin a plate to dry.

All too soon, everything is cleaned up, just as the playlist comes to an end, and there’s really no way of stalling them further. There’s a round of hugs and see-you-Mondays, and then Sasha and the Primes head out the door, leaving Jon, Martin, and Tim alone in their new house.

It’s not that late, comparatively, so Jon suggests a card game. They’ve played most nights since Sasha went back to sleeping in her own flat; they’ve played a couple of games of Rummy or Go Fish, and Tim once tried to teach Jon and Martin a game he learned from his grandparents that uses a forty-card deck (Martin picked it up quickly, Jon did not), but most of the time they play Crazy Eights. Tim declares that they’re going to keep playing until either he or Jon or both manage to overtake Martin’s score, which is clearly going to be an impossible task, as he’s up by nearly a thousand points and consistently wins at least three or four games a night. Still, they give it a valiant effort. After Martin manages to go out while both Tim and Jon still have an eight each in their hand, though, they decide to call it quits for one night.

“Someday I’ll figure out how you keep doing that,” Jon says, shuffling the deck lightly before putting it back in the box.

Martin shrugs. “Practice, I guess? I used to play with my granddad a lot when I was younger. We kept a running total, too, and I think I was up three thousand points or so when he died.”

Tim gives a low whistle. “How old were you?”

“Nine. We’d been playing pretty regularly since I was five. At least one game every time I went to visit.”

Jon thinks back to the conversation he and Martin had in Tim’s kitchen the morning after Prentiss’s attack. “Is this the grandfather who had the cherry trees?”

“You remembered.” Martin looks pleased. “Yeah, he was my mum’s dad. I never met my dad’s family, that I remember anyway.” He pauses. “You, uh, you told Charlie you were raised by your grandmother. Was that…?”

Jon didn’t know Martin was there, but he’s kind of glad he doesn’t have to figure out how to bring it up. “My father’s mother. She was…formidable. My father died when I was two, from an accidental fall, and my mother died a couple years later. Surgery complications.”

“I’m sorry,” Martin says softly. “That must have been hard on you.”

“Harder on my grandmother, I think. I was barely old enough to remember them.” All Jon remembers of his father is his laugh, and he’s fairly certain that most of his memories of his mother come from his aunt.

Tim leans forward, resting his arms on the table. “Is she still around? Your grandmother?”

Jon shakes his head. “She died just before I started working at the Institute. What about yours, Tim?”

“My dad’s dad is the only grandparent still around. I think.” Tim worries at his lower lip with his teeth for a moment. “I’d like to think someone would call me if something happened, but I don’t know.”

Martin hums sympathetically. “Is he…in a home?”

“Not as far as I know. Last I heard, he was still living with my parents. Moved in when Granny died, just after I left for university.” Tim sighs. “We’re not…close. After Danny…”

Jon reaches over and touches Tim’s arm gently. “It must be hard on them, losing a son. No parent expects to outlive their child.”

“That’s just it. Mum refuses to believe he’s dead.” Tim smiles weakly. “No body, you know? Dad isn’t sure, but he also thinks I know more than I’ve told them. Grandfather all but accused me of having a hand in Danny’s disappearance.”

“What?” Jon blinks, shocked. “How could anyone think you’d—you would never.”

“I know, but…well, Dad’s family was always a bit conservative, blue collar and all that, and I’m…well, me. I think that’s why Dad encouraged my hiking and camping and all that. Hoped it would knock some ‘sense’ into me,” Tim says with a wry twist of his lips. “Once I came out as bi, though, I think they decided there was no hope left for me. It just got worse after Danny died.”

Martin’s expressive face closes down, and Jon’s stomach lurches. This is the most they’ve talked about their families in…ever, he thinks, but from the little bits of information Martin—and Martin Prime, for that matter—have let slip, Jon has formed a very unfavorable impression of Martin’s mother. He’s always kind of had a hazy idea that Tim’s family situation was better, especially after he heard the pride in his voice when he talked about Danny when giving his statement, and finding out that it wasn’t much better than theirs…

“How old were you?” he asks, not sure why. “When you—told them.”

“Seventeen. There was a guy I’d been seeing—nothing serious, really, but we had fun together—and we went out for Valentine’s Day. My parents were confused because they knew my girlfriend and I had just broken up before Christmas and I hadn’t mentioned another girl, so I told them about Steve.” Tim gets quiet for a second. “Mum cried. Dad just…told me to stop upsetting my mother and never brought it up again. Not until Grandfather started in on me.”

Jon swallows. “You’ve a great deal more courage than I have. I—I never admitted to my grandmother that I ever had any interest in boys, let alone dated one.”

“Only one? You’re missing out.” Tim’s grin is a pale echo of his usual one, but it is at least genuine. “How ‘bout you, Martin?”

“A few.” Martin relaxes with a visible effort that makes Jon’s heart ache. “Been out since I was fourteen. Mum reacted…about as well as she reacted any other time I told her something she didn’t like or did something she wasn’t expecting. I never brought anyone home to meet her or…really talked to her about my dating, and she only ever brought it up in relation to herself. Like saying it was a good thing there wasn’t any risk of me passing on any of my numerous undesirable traits to a helpless child.”

“I don’t think your mum understands what ‘bisexual’ means,” Tim points out.

“Probably not, but it doesn’t matter. I’m gay.” Martin grimaces. “I’m also ace, so no risk there anyway, but…”

Jon wants to say any child would be fortunate to count you as a father or I can’t think of a single undesirable trait about you, but what actually comes out is, “Ace?”

“Uh, asexual. It’s—I don’t…get attracted like that. Romance, sure, aesthetic stuff and all that, but not…” Martin gestures vaguely. “Tried it anyway, for a couple of guys I was with, but i-it didn’t go well.”

Jon’s world view shifts abruptly on its axis. Tim, though, looks suddenly worried. “Are you okay? They didn’t—”

“No, no,” Martin says quickly. “It wasn’t—I just don’t like it. That’s all.” He sighs and runs a hand through his hair. “Never bothered telling Mum that part. She wouldn’t…I’ve done enough damage.”

Tim pulls Martin into a quick one-armed hug, and Jon reaches across the table to squeeze his hand as gently as he can, but they change the subject after that.

They end up sitting up for a while in their new living room, relaxing. Tim props his feet up in the recliner and works on a crossword; Jon curls up at one end of the sofa with a book he’s been meaning to read for years that Jon Prime assures him he’ll love; Martin sits at the other end and knits. It about bowled Jon over completely when he learned that Martin made most of the sweaters he wears, but the sight and sound of him working away has become increasingly familiar in the last few weeks, especially after the Primes and the rest of the crew collaborated to get him an array of needles and knitting wool in all colors of the rainbow for his birthday. Jon usually finds the gentle clicking of the needles soothing, but tonight it’s just a hair distracting, and he keeps glancing up from the page to watch Martin’s fingers as they expertly manipulate the yarn or Tim tap the eraser of his pencil thoughtfully against his jaw while he contemplates an answer. He’s not even quite sure what he’s looking at.

Finally, Tim lays down his puzzle with a sigh. “I think I’m gonna turn in,” he says, sounding oddly reluctant. “Long day and all that.”

“Yeah, I’m just gonna—” Martin works a couple more stitches and folds up his project. “Probably a good stopping place for tonight.”

Jon considers saying he’s going to stay in the living room and finish the chapter he’s on, but if he’s being completely honest, he’s been on the same page for however long it’s been and hasn’t taken in a single word. Silently, he slides the scrap of paper he’s currently using as a bookmark back between the pages and closes the book. “Well. Good night, then.”

“’Night, Jon.”

The bedrooms are all upstairs, two on one side and one on the other with the bathroom handy, and the three of them wish each other goodnight again before disappearing into their rooms. Jon closes the door and looks around the room, his room.

There’s not much to it, to be honest. A nightstand, a dresser, a battered desk he’s had since he was a child, a lamp and the bed. He sets the book on top of the desk and changes into his comfortable sleep clothes, then crawls into the bed and pulls the covers up over his shoulders.

It’s…odd. No, not odd. Jon can’t quite think of the right word for it. But the sheets feel unfamiliar against his skin, and they don’t smell right, either, probably because they’re new. The mattress that felt perfectly comfortable when he tested it out in the store doesn’t seem to afford the same comfort now, and he wonders if the floor model has simply had much of the stiffness tested out of it over time. Even the pillows, which he did retain from his old bedroom setup, seem determined to thwart his attempts to find a comfortable position.

He rolls onto his back and stares up at the ceiling, arm draped over his midsection. He won’t fall asleep like this, he’s always been a side-sleeper, but his mind is a seething roil of emotions and he needs to get his thoughts under control before he can even have a hope of getting comfortable enough to sleep, he guesses.

Asexual. Jon probes at the word, at what it describes. I don’t get attracted like that. I just don’t like it. Honestly, until meeting Georgie, Jon had no idea that sort of attraction really existed; he thought it was just something out of the lurid romance novels his grandmother favored and he’d read once or twice in sheer desperation. It was something she’d wanted, though, so he’d tried a few times, but his efforts hadn’t satisfied her and he never really saw what all the fuss was about. He can take it or leave it, preferably the latter.

He never knew there was a word for it.

Suddenly, he wants to talk to Martin about it, about how he realized, how he knew. Where he found the word. If there are many more like—well, like them, he supposes. If that’s one of the reasons he was reluctant to tell Jon how he felt. He wants to ask about Martin’s experiences, if they were bad just because his body didn’t want them or for some other reason. A part of him also wants to cry from sheer relief. He isn’t broken. There’s nothing wrong with him. Well, not in that respect, anyway.

He sighs heavily and rolls onto his side again, plumping the pillows and curling one arm around them. They’re too flat, he thinks idly, too soft and yielding. Which is odd, because that’s never bothered him before. He can’t seem to get warm, either, which is also bizarre because it’s been an unusually mild day for late September and he’s under the duvet he’s had for years, which suddenly seems too light and insubstantial. The room is too quiet and still. It all feels…wrong, somehow.

Jon closes his eyes and stubbornly tries to force sleep, to no avail. The sense of wrongness pervades his being, curling through him and keeping him tethered to consciousness. He runs through the list of problems he seems to be having and tries to come up with which one might be keeping him awake. The only thing he can think of is the unfamiliar mattress. Everything else is exactly the way it was in his old flat.

And when was the last time you slept there? The thought hits him all of a sudden, and his eyes snap open. He forgot. The last time he slept in his apartment was the night before Jane Prentiss attacked the Institute. Ever since then, he’s been sleeping in Tim’s living room…or in Tim’s bed. With the others.

That’s all it is. He isn’t used to the silence of being alone. He’s not used to not knowing, right away, exactly where Tim and Martin are and if they’re safe. He’ll just go and check on them, see that they’re safe, and he’ll be able to get to sleep just fine.

He throws back the covers, slides his glasses back on, and heads into the hallway. Jon somehow ended up in the room by the bathroom, while Tim and Martin are on the other side of the hallway. Martin’s room is first, though, so Jon heads there. He’s as careful as he can be. Martin is probably asleep by now. He definitely seemed tired while they were still in the living room, and Jon wonders if he lingered because the other two were still sitting down there. It makes him feel slightly guilty, like he should have called it a night earlier so Martin can get some sleep. And after all, they did have a very emotionally draining conversation, which probably exhausted him as well. All that runs through Jon’s mind as he slowly, slowly eases the door open and peers around it to see into Martin’s room.

It’s sparsely furnished; nothing but a bed and one of those flimsy pop-up cloth jobs bisected into cubes, which is serving as his dresser. Martin’s laptop and phone sit on the floor, both connected to their chargers. The bed is mussed slightly and shows signs of having been occupied, but Jon’s heart rate accelerates when he looks at it. It’s empty.

There’s no sign of a struggle, he tells himself, and he heard nothing, so surely everything is fine. Martin’s probably just in the bathroom, or downstairs getting a glass of water or something. It’s fine. Everything’s fine. Jon will just…go check on Tim and Tim will be fine and then he’ll go find Martin and make sure he’s fine and it…will…be…fine. He pulls the door closed and turns to Tim’s room.

The door is slightly ajar, and there’s a faint glow coming from the room. Jon hesitates, then taps lightly on the door three times before easing it open. Tim is sitting up on the bed, cross-legged and leaning forward slightly. And—Jon’s shoulders slump in relief—Martin is there, too, on the edge of the bed, one leg hanging off the side and the other tucked underneath him. They’re talking quietly, but both obviously exhausted. They look up at the sound of the door opening and watch Jon stand in the doorway. He opens his mouth, then realizes he doesn’t know what to say and closes it again.

“Couldn’t sleep either?” Martin asks gently. The circles under his eyes are almost black.

“No,” Jon admits. “I—I just wanted to—” He breaks off, still not sure what to say.

Wordlessly, Tim holds out a hand. Jon lets the bedroom door shut behind him as he comes forward and takes it. Martin wraps an arm around him from behind, and the two of them pull Jon onto the bed and into a lying-down position. Tim rolls over and snaps off the lamp by his bed, then pulls the covers up over all three of them. Jon manages to reach down and snag the middle to help.

“Better,” Tim murmurs.

It’s not a question, but Jon hums in agreement anyway. Trying for levity, he says, “Shame to waste money on new beds, though.”

“We’ll be able to sleep there eventually,” Martin says. Jon only realizes how much stress was in his voice when it’s drastically lessened. “At some point we’ll probably want the space. But for now, there’s this.”

“For now, there’s this,” Jon agrees. He tilts his head back briefly to rest it against Martin’s shoulder, and Martin scoots in closer.

Tim does, too, the two of them sandwiching Jon securely between them. “Get some sleep,” he says. “It’ll be all right tomorrow.”

Jon yawns and closes his eyes, and it doesn’t really surprise him when he falls asleep straightaway. The nightmares are as present as ever, but in the morning, he can almost fool himself into believing they weren’t so bad.

Almost.

#ollie writes fanfic #leaves too high to touch (roots too strong to fall)#tma #the magnus archives #jonmartin #referenced homophobia cw #internalized aphobia cw #panic attacks cw #please click that link and listen to the song #it'll make that bit so much better

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calmlftv · 4 years ago

Text

safe. - a.i.

description: covid-19, also known as “the zombie virus,” claimed hundreds of thousands of victims in 2018, and while it all seemed to be going great, something much darker was hiding within research facilities across the nation.

word count: exactly 4,001

warnings: descriptions of graphic imagery, blood, injuries, feelings of hopelessness.

w/n: this is my first fic for the 5sos writers collab! i’m so excited to participate in this, i always love reading the fics that come out from this and im so happy i get to be part of it! my prompt for this was zombie apocalypse au so i hope i did it justice!

taglist: @spicycal @n-ctarinenga @irwinkitten @castaway-cashton @blackbutterfliescal @ashtonsos @loveroflrh @bestyearssos @treatallwithkindness @bestyearslftv @another-lonely-heart-blog

****

It’s been 730 days.

That’s 24 months since the world went to shit.

Two years since the haunting screams have driven you to nightmares and panic attacks, something you had never had to deal with in the Before.

That’s all it was now. The Before. The time before the virus contaminated the body, before the monsters smashed into your home and tore your family apart.

Before all of that. Before, you were a nice person. In the Before, you were having the time of your life. But now?

Now you’re miserable.

With a gasp you awoke again, chest heaving as your mind raced. Your palms were pressed against the cold wooden floor of the house you had cleared, eyes quickly darting between all means of entry as you assessed your surroundings. Only when you saw the makeshift barricades you had created did you begin to calm down, your eyes squeezing shut as you pulled your knees against your chest.

I fucking hate it here.

Moments passed until you were able to open your eyes again, your vision blurry as you scrambled up to your feet. The old and ragged coat you had been using as a blanket was bunched up in your hand, the old and rotting pillow you had used being kicked to the side as you quickly found the mass that is your backpack. You stumbled through the house, making all kinds of noise as you made it to the closest counter, a shaking hand already reaching up to open the two cabinets above.

Empty.

Just like the other ones.

The dust on the shelves made your stomach hurt, determination already slumping your body as you pushed off the counter and headed towards the door. You knew it was no use to search the rest of the house for food; you had been hiding in this shithole for 14 hours, and if your searches yielded no results by now, you might as well move on.

Carefully you pried pieces of dusty and damp furniture away from the back door of the home, your foot landing on a shattered picture frame on the floor just as you cleared the doorway. You yelped, leaping away from the frame as your eyes landed on it. Captured within the frame was a beautiful blonde woman, curly hair down to her waist and a jungle green dress hugging her body as her hands rested on her rather large belly. In front of her knelt a man with shaggy brown hair, his lips pressed against her belly as she beamed with joy, the two of them so obviously in love with their bundle of joy that it could have made you sick.

Feeling empty you tore your eyes away, the lack of blood on your foot propelling you forward and out the old, creaky door. You started off slow, like always, watching your footsteps and listening intently as you ignored everything your body was telling you; the aches in your knees and tightness in your jaw could wait; your life depended on it, after all.

After a few miles you picked up the pace, your vision blurring slightly as you moved faster. Despite the pain that was now in your stomach you pushed on, determined to find some sort of shelter before you passed out, your weak muscles and body screaming at you with every step and breath.

You’re not entirely certain how far you made it before you heard the near-silent steps nearby, just out of sight on your left. You sluggishly turned around, quickly trying to wipe the fog from your eyes as you tried to find the creature that stalked behind you.

Much to your surprise a figure appeared, a gentleman peeking around a tree with dark hair. Fear struck you quickly as you backed away, almost immediately tripping over a large branch and landing on your ass as the figure stepped closer, now coming out from his hiding spot as you tried so hard to scramble away.

“Hey, hey, wait,” he said gently, the voice jarring to you.

Another human? You thought, shock freezing you in place. But how-

A grunt followed by a bone chilling moan came from the right, your head snapping in that direction. To your surprise, the man quickly got closer and extended his hand, carefully taking you by the arm and hoisting you up easily just as another man appeared from the direction of the sound.

Another normal, human man, brown hair pulled back into a bun.

“There’s a horde on the way,” he stated, jerking a thumb behind him as his eyes took you in. “We’ve gotta go, Ash.”

“Alright, Logan, but we’re taking in a stray.”

The man stared at you and nodded, a silent agreement you had no idea of happening as the first man - Ash - carefully spun you around and guided you forward, footsteps falling in sync between the three of you as the strangers guided you onwards.

The trees were closing in on you as you gripped Ash’s arm, knees trying to buckle underneath you from pure exhaustion and pain. The man chuckled and soon another hand was on you, the two men hoisting you up and quickly carrying you away.

***

“Whoa-!” A woman said, strong hands immediately trying to push you down as you struggled against them.

“Who the fuck-” you started, panic filling you now as you bit down on the side of a hand. A yelp came from the stranger and the hands were gone, your mind racing as a woman knelt beside you.

“-shh, little love, it’s okay. You’re safe now,” she soothed, hand running in circles along your back as you focused on her voice. It was soft and gentle, the voice a stark difference to the harsh grinding in your mind.

Safe?

Your eyes landing on her, finally taking her in as she gave you a soft smile. “Hey there,” she said kindly, tone gentle and soothing. “Sorry to have given you a fright, Devyn’s just so used to dealing with...rougher patients.”

Her eyes guided you to the other side of the room where a young man stood at the sink, glaring at you while he seemed to nurse his bitten hand.

The woman chuckled, gaining your attention once again. “My name’s Tabitha, but most people ‘round here call me Tabby,” she said, gently taking your hand and turning it over. Her fingers carefully pressed against the inside of your wrist, your pulse pounding against her skin. “And you, little stray, are very much alive.”

You blinked, Tabby’s eyes taking in your face.

“Where am I?”

Your voice was hoarse and broken, vocal chords seeming to ache as they were used again.

Tabby smiled. “You’re in our Community,” she said sweetly, gesturing vaguely to the room around you. “It’s a bit shabby, but not the worst place to be. It’s a safe place for people to be, little stray, I promise.”

“M’not a stray,” you mumbled, your voice slightly stronger but not by much.

Your exam went by fairly quickly, Tabby settling you back into your bed as soon as possible before she excused herself. Once you were laying back against the pillow Devyn popped back over, quietly and carefully adjusting some things as you watched. He glanced at you and nodded, seeming to have gotten over your first impression, before he turned around and left the room.

Once you were alone you finally, truly relaxed, sighing as you carefully sat yourself up. You were able to take in the room, looking around at the chipping paint on the walls and the bits of dust floating in the air around the only window to your left, the light reflecting gracefully as the particles moved within it. Desperate for some light you started to stand, legs shaking as you tried to make your way to the window.

“Hey hey, what are you doing?”

The new voice startled you, adrenaline flooding your veins as you spun around. You grabbed the nearest object that could be used as a weapon and held it in front of you, ready to fight for your life if need be.

The man who found you in the woods stood in the doorway with his hands up, a single dark curl falling over his forehead as he stood perfectly still.

“Hey,” he said calmly, voice soft and warm. “It’s alright, I’m not here to hurt you. We’ve already sort of met, remember? In the woods?”

As he spoke the memory came flooding back to you and you dropped the weapon, a blush settling on your cheeks as you tried to find the right words to apologize.

He chuckled, dropping his hands and stepping in. “Someone’s a bit jumpy, hm?” He teased, obviously trying to calm you down. He glanced at your empty bed before looking back at you. “And a bit eager to explore.”

You cleared your thoughts and nodded a bit, still hesitant to trust him too much. “Just wanted to see outside, sir,” you admitted. “Maybe feel some sun if I’m lucky.”

The man watched you and nodded, his hands going into the pockets of his jeans. He had on a simple black t-shirt that seemed clean, something that was a foreign concept to you these days. “Well I’d definitely say you’re lucky. You barely made it to the gates of the community before you passed out, I had to have Logan carry you in.”

The blush returned, causing him to laugh. “It’s okay, you’re in good hands here. Tabby was a doctor before all this happened, and she’s taught Devyn everything she knows.”

You nodded. “Tabby seems nice,” you said, feeling a bit safer again. “I, uh, kinda bit Devyn on accident, so I don’t know if he likes me.”

When you met his eyes he was containing a laugh, ultimately failing as you moved back towards your bed. “You bit him!” He chuckled, calming down a bit. “Well, once you’ve got your strength back, I’m sure we’ll have a hell of a fighter on our hands.”

You smiled, chuckling a bit. “Not sure how much help I’ll be until then,” you said, sighing again.

The man moved closer, sitting on the edge of your bed. “We’ll cross that bridge when we get there,” he said softly, flashing a reassuring smile. “Start out with the easy tasks, and work your way up when you’re feeling better.” He ducked his head down, catching your eyes and smiling again. “Sound like a plan?”

You met his eyes and nodded, the hazel color full of so much warmth that you couldn’t help but believe him. Somehow, despite being on your own for two years, it was easy to trust him; it was easy to let the fear melt away.

He grinned, reaching to squeeze your shoulder until you jerked away. Maybe you weren’t ready to trust him too much. “We’ll work on that,” he said kindly, nodding and standing up. “I’ll check in this evening around dinner, okay? Maybe bring by a surprise, for our Lucky Stray.”

You both nodded to each other before he headed towards the door. You quickly remembered something and stood again.

“Wait,” you said, the man turning around in the doorway. “What’s your name?”

He smiled. “Ashton,” he said simply. “M’name’s Ashton.”

You nodded, the man repeating the action before he grabbed the doorknob and stepped out.The door closed softly behind him, the silence making your ears ring as you stared at the window again.

This is a hell of a place, you thought, settling back against the bed once again. A blanket was draped at the end of the mattress but you curled up without it, the previous rush of adrenaline in your system keeping you warm as you closed your eyes.

Maybe I’ll stick around for a while, you accepted, your exhausted mind already starting to settle into sleep. Where it’s safe.

For now.

****

Over time you were able to recover, your days filled with visits from Ashton and other members of the community. The visits you were always most excited for were Ashton’s, the length of them going from a couple minutes every couple of days to a few hours every single day. Sometimes he’d bring in whatever work had to do and set up a table next to you, teaching you the different jobs within the community from cleaning weapons to childcare to anything else that may need to be done. While you absolutely adored being able to learn about the community more and more, you enjoyed your time with Ash a bit more, the two of you building a strong bond that made recovery easier. It certainly helped that your heart would skip a few beats every time you saw him, his winning smile and wonderful laughter having their calming effect on you.

Before you knew it you were moved to your own room, a window looking east over the woods bringing you peace on the mornings you awoke in a panic. Though the things that lurk in the darkness between the trees terrified you, the peace that the air carried would blanket around you enough to calm your racing heart.

The community had slowly become your home, the sights and sounds of the people and the work to be done settling you into a new, welcoming routine that felt like fresh air after the suffocating two years you had been through. All was well and perfect in the months that passed, and as you and Ashton continued to steal glances and flirty smiles, you finally felt normal again.

Until the day that it changed.

Day 1,095. Three years since history was changed forever.

Your normal nightmare was terrorizing your mind again, your body tossing and turning in the restless sleep you had to endure before the dawn of a new day could wake you. This time, however, it felt urgent, more panicked than it had before; the screaming was closer, somehow, the footsteps of your loved ones echoing desperately around you as your mind spun it’s twisted tale. You did everything you could to escape it all but felt the cold hand wrap around your mouth, covering your screams as you tried to launch yourself away.

“Wake up!”

You jumped at the sudden voice, the sound shattering the terrifying images that flashed within your mind. You tried to lurch out of bed but a heavy weight stopped you, the hand from your nightmare becoming real as you fought to get up.

“Stop-” the voice said, the word turning into a grunt as a blow landed against a solid chest. Your eyes began to focus as the voice came again, messy dark hair and hazel eyes finally coming into view.

“Stop fighting,” Ashton asked, voice barely above a whisper as he kept you quiet. You met his eyes and he held a finger to his lips, his other hand still covering your mouth as he paused.

After a moment he nodded and moved, taking your hand to help you up from the bed. “We have to go,” he said softly, with urgency in his voice. “Do you need to grab anything?”

You stopped, your brain stuck on his first request. “Go?” You asked, voice louder than you anticipated as Ashton quickly covered your mouth again.

After another moment he pulled away, hands resting on your shoulders. “We don’t have a lot of time,” he started, “but I’ll make it quick. We’re being raided, and we have to go. Right now.”

Your mind started spinning again, the new information feeling impossible to process as Ashton took your hand again, obviously taking your silence as his cue to start leaving. He led you to the closed door of your room, pressing against the wall as he slowly opened it enough to peek outside.

Your mind snapped to attention at the sound of a distant shout. “Tabby-”

“-is already gone with Logan,” he assured you, looking back at you. “They’re getting everybody else out. I wanted to come for you.”

The gesture was sweet, and while it wasn’t lost on you, your mind now focused solely on getting the hell out of there as more yelling started on the other side of the community, followed by harsh crashing.

“Okay, let’s go,” Ashton said suddenly, hand tightening around yours as he dashed out of your space and dragged you along. Your steps eventually synchronized, the two of you quietly avoiding detection as you tried to loop around to where everybody else was supposed to be.

As soon as you got close enough a loud bang echoed through you, chilling you to the bone as a warm liquid started to trickle down your neck. Within seconds you were being dragged along again, adrenaline giving you strength as Ashton started running. Your mind became cloudy as your body fell into autopilot, the distant sounds of your own footsteps not even feeling real as you carefully made your way through the forest.

Ashton kept the pace, only slowing down as the trees got more and more dense, the path he was taking you down becoming harder to safely navigate as you escaped the home you thought was safe. The questions started racing through your head, each one leaving you more and more confused and frustrated than the last.

While lost in your thoughts your feet collided with a fallen branch, seemingly taking you by surprise as you tripped over it. You tried to catch yourself but failed miserably, your legs giving out from pure exhaustion as your ribs and jaw met the dirt and debris you had previously been running through.

Ashton stopped the second your hand left his, spinning around just in time to watch you land on the ground. He quickly came to your side, kneeling beside you and helping you slowly sit up.

“Alright?” He asked softly, eyes meeting yours as you nodded. He looked around, pausing as he heard the unmistakable shuffling of a zombie. He quickly quieted you and helped you stand, leading you in the opposite direction of the sound as the smell invaded your nostrils, turning your stomach over in protest as you forced yourself to move.

The new path was a large loop, the sound and smell making your heart race. At one point you caught a glimpse of it, the flesh blackened and decaying, exposed bits of muscle staring at you as you held in the contents of your stomach.

Ashton tugged you further, slowly and carefully until you finally broke through into a clearing. He helped you sit and started to walk the edges of the small space you now inhabited, checking the trees until circling back to kneel in front of you.

“Alright, we’re about a half mile away from the meeting point,” he said, meeting your eyes. “The others will be taking a longer route in case the raiders followed them, so it’ll just be us for a day or two.”

You nodded to his words, wincing at the sudden pain in your right ear. His brow furrowed as you reached up, fingertips barely touching it before you hissed.

He was suddenly very close to you, turning your head and carefully inspecting the injury. He chuckled. “They nicked you real good back there,” he stated, your head jerking away as his fingers got too close. “Sorry. We need to get you to the point, get you bandaged up.”

All you could do was nod, your mind still racing from everything that had happened. It was all too fast, too overwhelming and hard to process; you had just been sleeping in the safest place you knew of, finally finding somewhere that feels like home, just to have it all ripped away from you just as suddenly. It gave you whiplash, and quite frankly, it was enough to drive you to the edge of your sanity.

You just wanted one good thing to stay good. Was that really too much to ask?

The two of you were quiet during the rest of your break, the silence only breaking when Ash said it was time to move. Despite the two of you being out of immediate danger he still took your hand, the two of you making your way to this meeting point he had mentioned.

When you arrived you didn’t even see anything at first; the entrance was in the ground and heavily guarded by plants and fallen logs, Ashton brushing it all away before tugging open the heavy metal door. Inside was a ladder, Ash gesturing for you to go down first. Despite everything aching and screaming for you to stop, you obeyed, climbing down the ladder first as Ashton followed you and sealed the two of you in.

According to Ashton a member of the community had found this old bunker while hunting one day, the man literally stumbling upon it and finding his way inside. When Ash and the others caught up to him they decided to keep it hidden, only telling a few others about its existence for situations just like this.

“So what happens with it when we don’t need to hide in it?” You asked, venturing to what seemed like a bedroom with a single bed in the middle of it.

Ashton chuckled. “Nothing,” he answered, following you and leaning against the doorway. “It just sits here, really, until we have a use for it.”

You sat on the edge of the bed, eyes taking in the concrete around you as Ashton moved towards you, his eyes locked on you.

“You should get some sleep,” he stated, holding up a hand before you could protest. “It’s obvious you’re exhausted, love, and I know you’ve got to be in pain.”

You dropped your eyes. “I’m fine, Ashton.”

“Don’t lie to me.”

The tone in his voice made you look up, meeting his eyes again. “M’not lying. I’m fine.”

He sighed, moving back towards the door. “Fine. But I’m cleaning up your ear.”

Before you could protest he was gone, only coming back once he had found a first aid kit. You huffed but let him take care of you, hissing as he cleaned your wound and wrapped it with a bandage and gauze.

“There,” he said, sitting back and cleaning up the mess. “Once Tabby gets here she’ll really get that fixed up for ya.”

You nodded, his voice sounding far away as the bandage muffled him. He tossed the kit on the ground beside the bed, the two of you sitting in silence.

“What are we going to do now?” You asked softly, your mind still thinking of the home you had lost.

He shrugged. “We’ll start over,” he answered, his voice just as soft. “Find a new place for everybody. Build new defenses. Maybe start planting our own crops, even.”

You looked over at him, chuckling a bit. “Alright, Farmer Ash,” you teased, the man laughing lightly. You both fell silent until you found the courage to speak again. “Maybe I am tired.”

He chuckled and looked at you, gesturing for you to lay down against the pillows. “Get some rest, then,” he said, standing and moving towards the door.

“Wait,” you said, the man pausing and turning towards you. “Stay with me? Just until I fall asleep.”

He smiled and nodded, coming back and sitting on the opposite side of the bed as you got settled. You gave him a look and he rolled his eyes, laying back himself and settling in.

You faced each other, eyes locking as he smiled. “You can’t sleep with your eyes open,” he teased, earning a light laugh from you.

“Fine, fine,” you said, letting your eyes fall shut as you slightly adjusted your sleeping position. After a second you opened your eyes again, seeing Ashton with his closed.

“Ash?”

He cracked one eye open. “Yeah?”

“You promise this new place will be safe?”

“Darling, you’ll always be safe with me. I promise.”

#ashton irwin #5sos #5sos au #ashton irwin au #zombie apocolypse au #blurbs.ai #pls dont hate me for ending it where i did #i rlly didnt it to be like 10k words #also sorry for my lack of imagery y'all #im trying 😔#someday i might revisit this and do it over

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where-theres-smoak-2 · 3 years ago

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Riverdale 5x11-5x14

So I might have fallen behind a bit with Riverdale and have only now just caught up with the new episodes post break. I decided writing reviews for each episode was going to take too much time and to be honest I don’t have too much to say so I’m just going to do a quick run down of what I thought of the episodes and then go back to single episode reviews from 5x15 onwards. Overall I’m not overly impressed with the episodes, I feel like the season started out really good but as its gone on its just kind of lost its way and I don’t know if that is covid related and all the breaks but I haven’t enjoyed the episodes as much post like episode 8, though I liked ep 10 better than episode 9. But anyway lets get into the reviews. As always these are just my own opinions and there will be spoilers.

5x11

So the episode starts off with Veronica and Archie deciding to put a pause on their relationship until her and Chad are officially divorced which I personally think they should have done from the start because the way they got back together was way to fast, I mean she told Chad she wanted a divorce, kissed Archie and was sleeping with him, then she goes back to new york and sleeps with chad all in the space of like 2 episodes. Though I think given their scene at the end when Veronica is pushing a little for him to change his mind I don’t think she is as much on board with their pause as Archie. I will be honest I’m not really enjoying the way they’ve written Veronica this season I actually think they’ve made her kind of unlikable at times and she sometimes comes across a bit selfish I also feel like they don’t really know what to do with her character anymore. But I am glad Veronica and Archie have decided to take the break however I also think it might be a bit ominous for Varchie that they’ve done this now which I’ll get into more in a separate post.

Ok this might be a little mean of me but I was kind of happy when Archie called out Veronica when she came to him for help about her blue opal. About how she went to new york despite him asking her not to and about how she then came back without a divorce and having slept with her husband and not even telling him why she can’t divorce him just yet. But Archie is still Archie so naturally he does help her anyway.

Speaking of Veronica’s blue opal I did find it kind of hilarious that she seemed to care more about that then she did her father’s life. But you know fair.

Archie isn’t the only one Veronica asks for help though she also gets assistance from Reggie and we learn more about how he ended up working for Hiram, turns out his father is still running for the worst dad of eternity award and got into debt that Reggie is now working off. I did like the Veggie scenes though and I am really glad that reggie is getting more screen time.

This episode was an episode for the return of the side characters, Dodger and Darla are back and causing problems as per usual. Also there was that guy, Doc, Jughead was saved by who we heard about once in a story Jughead told about how as a kid he watched a guy being beat by some rich guys. To be honest I wasn’t all that interested in Jughead’s storyline this episode. I mean is that something that actually happens? Rich guys just randomly beating up homeless people like they did with Juggie and Doc. I’m not saying it doesn’t I just thought it was a bit nonsensical for these guys just to come out of a club and start beating up a guy just because. Still bless Doc for coming to the rescue and taking care of Jughead, I did like Doc and I wouldn’t mind seeing him again. But another thing that didn’t make sense to me is that Jughead didn’t recognise Doc. Like he was old enough to remember this traumatic experience of watching a guy get beat and feeling guilty about not helping but doesn’t recognise the guy until he gives Juggie his name. Yet Doc was able to recognise Jughead even though the last time he saw him was a child? Overall I am not sure what the point of Jughead’s storyline was this episode other than to maybe show how messed up he is at the moment with the blackouts and hallucinations, I suppose it was also so he could reach the realisation that he needed to go back to new york and work out what happened to him when he lost those days. He does leave a really sweet voicemail for tabitha before he goes though and promises to finish their dance.

The best part of this episode though was the storyline with Tabitha and Betty, also Jessica, and their search for Jughead. I really liked the interaction between Betty and Tabitha and I like that they are becoming friends. Tabitha was obviously really worried about Jughead. But Betty, wow, she couldn’t be less bothered about Jughead could she. I mean after hearing the voicemail he left for her I can understand why Betty is reluctant to get involved with anything to do with Jughead because that voicemail was yikes. I mean Betty did cheat and that clearly hurt Jughead so I am not saying that Betty is entirely blameless but I would expect the voicemail was still a shock as it had been five years since she had cheated and we know from the most recent episode (ep 14) that she and Juggie were amicable with each other and would talk on the phone so this probably came out of nowhere for her. However Betty is Betty and so she still helps. Which ultimately leads to Jessica showing up and I know we are suppose to hate Jessica but, like, I love Jessica. I was thoroughly entertained by her antics and thought she was actually kind of funny. She’s another character where I wouldn’t mind if she just randomly pops up and causes some trouble now and again. In the end as suspected Jessica is actually there for ulterior motives and wants Jughead’s manuscript. I actually really felt for her when she explained that she wanted it because she was afraid Jughead had written something that would look bad to her family and friends. It’s the same as how the serpents were upset about how he wrote them in the outcasts and how he threatens Betty saying once people read his books they’ll all know what kind of person she really is. I’ve spoken about it before but Jughead often uses his friends and others peoples stories in his writing and I am glad that the writers of the show are now showing the effect that has on the people who are the subjects of his writing. That being said I am worried that might not be the true reason Jessica took the manuscript and its possible she might actually try to publish it herself. Also it was kind of funny seeing Betty and Tabitha on the shrooms but, not ok Jessica, don’t drug people.

Archie was rounding up all the convicts this episode and to be honest I don’t really have much to say about this other than I thought it was really smart to use this as a way of getting money out of Hiram so they can repair the school that Hiram had trashed.

Meanwhile Penelope has started a ministry which means she gets early release from prison. Also I absolutely loved the expressions of cheryl and nana rose when Penelope told them about the ministry. I am glad that Cheryl at first was very wary of her mothers plans as oppose to just immediately going along with it, but alas she does get roped in to it when she opens a chest and finds Jason’s burned skeleton inside. I mean can we please please just let that poor guy rest in piece. Please. At this point poor Jason has been stuffed in a freezer, dumped in a river, buried and exhumed twice, set on fire in a viking burial and now he is stuffed in a trunk. Also I am a bit confused. Was Cheryl snooping in her mother’s room and discovered Jason’s remains there or was it her room and she was the one that had recovered him? But anywhere Cheryl seems to have a revelation when she sees the bird and ends up embracing the ministry life.

5x12

So episode twelve is kind of like the breakfast club episode where it is out of the timeline and kind of like a standalone episode but still has information about the plot of the season. This episode is the backstory of Hiram but we also get some great Reggie development in this episode. I didn’t hate the episode as much as I thought I was going to when I found out there was going to be a hiram backstory episode, but I also don’t think it was very accurate in terms of what we already knew from previous episodes. I think there were a lot of continuity errors. But those aside it was a ok episode. We learn that Hiram and his dad were shoe polishers and that Hiram clearly hated the way they were treated because they were poor and wanted more from life. We also learn that it was his father who first began searching for palladium after learning about it from a business man in new york and that’s why they decided to move to Riverdale. Hiram’s motives are to finish what his father started. Hiram catches the attention of a drug dealer guy and starts running drugs and gets money and new shoes and a car. His parents are obvious suspicious and aren’t happy about him getting caught up with those guys so his dad goes to tell the mob leader that he will fire his son or he’ll go to the cops which leads to him being killed by the mob leader. Hiram then kills the mob leader’s men and pretty much drives him out of town and then he takes over. Hiram clearly loved his dad but they had issues. Hiram would get very angry about the way others would treat them but his dad would often shrug it off. But I do think losing his dad had a big impact on Hiram and it was interesting to learn more about his past.

The other kind of plot in this episode was with Reggie and his dad which was obviously suppose to mirror Hiram and his dad. Only in this scenario Hiram is the criminal and Reggie is young Hiram. Reggie manages to pay off his dad debt but wants to still work for Hiram meanwhile his dad wants Reggie to quit working for Hiram. He even like Hiram’s father did in the past visits Hiram and asks him to let Reggie go. What’s interesting is that Hiram does, I am assuming its because in that moment Reggie’s father reminded him of his own father and he kind of forces Reggie into making the decision he himself wished he had made. But first he gets Reggie’s and Hermosa’s help in finding and killing the mob boss finally avenging his father’s death. Hiram also tells Reggie to go back to his father and forgive him and here is my problem with this. I get that its because Hiram regrets all the disagreements and the falling out he had with his own father and there’s Reggie and he reminds Hiram of his younger self and Reggie’s situation reminds him of his past but Hiram’s dad was a decent person and was a good father who always wanted the best for his son. Reggie’s dad on the other hand used to regularly abuse and beat his son. Yes he does show concern for Reggie in this episode but that doesn’t erase the years of abuse he inflicted on his son. It’s not the same and I honestly don’t think his father deserves Reggie’s forgiveness. That being said I suppose if Reggie is forgiving his dad not for his dad’s sake but for himself because he thinks that will help him heal and move on that I can be ok with that.

Come the end of the episode I don’t think I hate Hiram any less but still his backstory was interesting and I am glad that Reggie isn’t working with him anymore.

5x13

Out of all of these four episodes this one was the one I liked the most. So in this section I am going to divide it by plotline/characters.

Archie

So the episode starts out really intensely with Archie having a nightmare about his time at war and Eric losing his leg which honestly looks horrendous and I am not at all surprised that both Archie and Eric are now suffering from PTSD. It gets a bit dangerous too when Eric pulls a gun on Archie whilst having a flashback. Uncle Frank tries to help them by getting them a dog. As someone who actually has a therapy dog myself I know this is something that does actually help. But we do learn that sadly Vegas passed away whilst Archie was deployed. Also the dog Frank got is one that was used in dog fighting and ends up biting Eric. Archie’s reaction to finding out that there is dog fighting ring in Riverdale is to track them down and beat them up. I do think Archie was really struggling this episode, he was trying to get help for Eric but it is obvious that he himself also needs help. I actually really related to Archie and Eric struggling to get help for their mental health because it is something I have gone through myself and it can be really frustrating and can make you feel kind of helpless and I actually think they did a good job of showing that, which considering its Riverdale I was pleasantly surprised by. We also learn some more about Archie’s time in the war when he tells Frank the story about Bingo. At first he tells us that Bingo was a stray dog that their unit adopted who got caught in no man’s land. It is actually a rather harrowing scene where you see Archie and Eric in the trenches and Eric is badly hurt and you can hear this dog yelping in the background. It’s even more harrowing when you learn that actually Bingo wasn’t a dog but one of the soldiers in their unit. I feel like Archie changed it to being a dog to deal with the trauma of it all but when Eric tells Frank the truth and he then asks Archie about it Archie really has to confront what actually happened and that loss and grief of losing his friend in such a brutal way. Its obvious that Archie also feels responsible because he was put in that awful position of having to choose between saving Eric or saving Bingo he feels like because of the choice he made Bingo died. Despite what Frank said about not being able to save everyone I think he thought he could save them both and its really eating him up that he ‘let’ Bingo die. I also think that’s why he is so focussed on saving the town because he thinks it’s a way of making amends for not being able to save his men. I do think it was really sweet that Frank and Eric organised the dog rehoming thing to help Archie get some of his hopeful spirit back and show him that there are still some good people out there. They also decide to name their new dog Bingo in honour of their friend which is also kind of sweet. But I do still think Archie has a long way to go in his recovery as by the end of the episode we see him have a nightmare and then a hallucination of bingo but he does at least admit to the therapist that calls him that whilst he was calling on behalf of his friend he too needs help. I mean I am glad that he is going to try to get some help but I am still worried for Archie given what happens in ep 14 which I’ll talk about more in the section for that episode. Also we got that little Barchie crumb of the light shining through his window, a lit window in the dark.

Betty and Tabitha

So Betty and Tabitha have been working together to try and find the truck killer and whilst trying to get information out of a trucker Glen pops up and we find out that he has been arresting the girls working the lonely highway. I mean there is a killer out there and these girls are their victims, they are struggling to make ends meet and have been forced into this kind of work and Glen instead of focussing on catching the killer is arresting them, yup I agree with Betty, girl should’ve stabbed him harder. We also learn that Betty apparently quit the FBI and did I miss that because I don’t remember her quitting? I remember Glen took over the case and moved it out of Riverdale but I don’t remember her quitting altogether. But anyway Glen then takes her badge and gun which I guess is fair if she has quit and isn’t an agent anymore but at least Betty is actually trying to catch the killer unlike Glen who is clearly not. Watch it turn out to be him that is the truck killer, go on Riverdale I dare you. Despite being warned off by Glen Betty and Tabitha are still determined to put a stop to the murders and so decide to hold a coyote ugly night. I actually thought this was a really clever way of getting information and creating a database. In order to get entry to the venue all truckers have to show their ID and give their licence registration. am a big supporter of characters acting smart so I did like that plan. Also I love the coyote ugly movie (don’t judge me) so extra win there. I also like that the plan did incorporate alot of the characters. One thing I have been enjoying this season is that they are mixing up who is interacting with who. You had Alice working the bar, the girls dancing to keep the truckers entertained whilst Reggie and Kev searched the vans. Though I do have a question when they find the blood in the back of the truck and Betty says her and Reggie and Kevin are with the FBI where did they get those FBI jackets from? Are they just easy to come by like part of a Halloween costume or something? There is another thing that I thought was funny and that was that Betty makes it clear that no one is to go off alone with a trucker and yet at the end of the episode she does exactly that and it just so happens to be the killer who comes at her with a chainsaw of all things which was a little ott in my opinion but this is Riverdale so I suppose what was I suspecting. But at least Betty manages to capture him and she does the sensible thing and turns him over to the proper authorities, or no wait what was I thinking of course she doesn’t this is Riverdale so she’s just going to question him herself. Come one you all know it wouldn’t be as entertaining if she just handed him over to the FBI.

Veronica and Reggie

I really liked the storyline of Veggie working together in season 3 so I was really happy to see them working together again and I really enjoyed their scenes. I just think they work really well as a team. They also come up with a really great idea for getting investors whilst also getting one up on old Hiram. Obviously Reggie knows alot about what is going on with Soldale and knows that houses will never be built there. So they phone Hiram’s investors and tell them this little rumour that Soldale is a bad investment and convinces them to invest with them instead. This was actually another smart move by the characters so again I support it. And anything that ruins Hiram’s day is a win to me.

Cheryl and Kevin

Kevin after a little encouragement from Cheryl after she finds him cruising again decides to talk it out with Fangs but unfortunately for him and the viewers we fins out that Kangs ahs moved on...with Moose? I mean I feel for Kev its also upsetting to find out your ex has moved on I imagine it is even worse when your ex has moved on with your other ex. Kevin then also has a bit of a inner crisis when he receives a teacher of the year award and realises that this is not at all where he was expecting his life to be. He had dreamed of being in new york, writing and directing instead he is still in Riverdale and he’s still cruising and unlucky in love. Cheryl’s solution to all of Kevin’s problems is to invite him to join her cult, sorry ministry. At first Kevin is reluctant and not really interested but is finally brought around with the temptation of a musical number. So yup Kevin has joined Cheryl as a believer. Now I am going to surprise myself here and say I am actually interested to see where they take this and where this story with Cheryl and Kevin goes because from the promo pics and what not it looks like they are going to be taking over as leaders of the ministry. I don’t think this is at all a healthy copying mechanism for either of them though and I hope they do get actual real help soonish.

5x14

This was a weird episode and was kind of told in the style of the night gallery show episodes where Cheryl invites Minerva over and shows her three paintings and then tells her the story behind each. So again I am going to split this part in the three storylines we get told.

Archie

The first one is a painting of Archie as a miner, the portrait itself hilariously did remind me of the cover of a bad romance novel but the story itself wasn’t too bad actually I think out of the three I found his the most interesting. It does give us some more information about the shows plot for this season, pardon about one of this seasons plots. Cheryl has finally discovered that their is palladium under her maple groves and has the genius idea of digging it up before Hiram does. Like seriously why didn’t anyone think of this earlier? I mean it also ties into that long forgotten plot from the beginning of the series that Cheryl is indebt after spending seven years renovating her home. I am assuming she wants the palladium to cover those debts. So naturally she hires Archie and his construction crew to mine it for her because everyone knows that construction and mining are basically the same thing right? Though I did think it was really funny when Cheryl pointed out that Archie so far has been teacher, coach, fireman and bounty hunter. At least the show is aware of its own ridiculousness. So Archie and the boys decide to mine for the Palladium but whilst down there Archie has more hallucinations about Bingo. We also see Archie in therapy and we find out that Eric is also getting help and this actually does seem to be helping Eric which is good. Whilst initially it looks like things are improving for Archie he then gets a really bad reaction when down in the mines and becomes very paranoid which results in him storming into the therapists office and behaving very erratically accusing her of drugging him and working against her which clearly frightens her. When everyone else in the mines also then starts hallucinating Frank realises that there is carbon monoxide down there and that is what is causing the visions and for everyone to start acting aggressively. Surprisingly this is actually an accurate representation of what can happen with high exposure to carbon monoxide and we do love us some accuracy. However it does lead to one of the most frustrating scenes in the episode when Archie goes back to the therapist and begs her not to cut him lose explaining about the carbon monoxide and about how he is now seeing not just Bingo but all the men he lost. The therapist tells Archie that she is afraid to be around him and that if he is having hallucinations to that level that she doesn’t think he is safe to be around anyone. Like what kind of therapist is this. This is not what a therapist would do. If she was afraid to be alone with him then refer him to another therapist and if you are worried he’s a danger to others than admit him to a psychiatric hospital where he can safely get help. This therapist just kind of washed her hands of it and said not my problem. But this has left me feeling really worried about Archie and I do feel like he might end up going really dark and spiralling.

I do think that the gas could actually be leaking into the town from the mines though. I was thinking about it when watching the episodes but alot of the characters are having hallucinations and visions of some kind and at first it seems like it is related to that characters trauma but now I am starting to wonder if it is actually because of the gas. It could also explain the Mothmen hallucinations too. Speaking of the Mothmen they got a mention in this episode that made me happy. When taking a lunch break Fangs tells the story about how some of the truckers used to be miners and they tell stories about humanoid cannibalistic creatures that lived underground. Why does this make me happy you may ask well because I have been predicted since the beginning of the season that at some point all the the storylines will converge and I am hoping that come the end of the season we will get a big team up with all the characters. Previously we have had Betty’s storyline with the highway killer being linked to Jughead’s storyline of the mothmen and now we’ve just had the link between Archie’s storyline and Betty and Jughead’s. Which means I am one step closer to my big team up.

Jughead

So Jughead’s storyline was my least favourite out the three. We have finally learned the truth, the big mystery of what happened to Jughead that caused him to lose three days of his life. He was in a hole. Yup that’s it he just fell in a hole, got rabies and then hallucinated a rat king. Underwhelming is the best way I can describe what I thought of that. There were so many great theories out there on what could have happened that caused Jughead to have this trauma so bad that he literally mentally blocked it out and what we got instead was just that he got upset that Betty, who he broke up with five years ago, didn’t come to his book launch so he got drunk and fell into the sewers. I kind of feel like with them bringing back the voicemail, with him saying betty was the one that lead him out of the dark, that they are kind of making it all Betty’s fault, like she is the reason for his trauma and all his problems and if she just pays him some attention it’ll all be magically fixed and almost like its her responsibility to save him and I am not sure I like that. Don’t get me wrong I am not saying that your girlfriend cheating on you with your best friend wouldn’t do a number on you, but it is all about Betty when Archie betrayed him too. Like where is Jughead being cut up about the fact that Archie who was like a brother to him kissed his girlfriend? I don’t know maybe its just me but I am finding it a little one sided. I also think it shows how unhealthy his relationship with betty has become. I think if it gets to the point where you can’t function without a person then that’s not good and that’s not healthy and again maybe it is just me but I don’t see that as romantic which I am not sure if they are trying to play it off that way or not. I did feel really bad for Juggie though when he talks about how even though he disappeared into the dark for three days no one missed him and that he felt really alone. I do think maybe that’s more where his trauma comes from and I kind of wish the writers had developed that more rather than having it again be solely about Betty. Like if we had seen him reaching out to several people and inviting them to his book launch, like a text to his dad, a phone call to his sister or mum, reaching out to Archie or Veronica and then all of them making excuses about how they are busy and can’t come. Then have him invite betty and her say yes at first and you see him relieved because he has someone coming. Then have her cancel and him spiral. I just think it would have had a bigger impact. Instead, and maybe this is a bit harsh, but it came off as him just being some drunk who can’t get over his ex ad kind of like with Veronica I kind of feel like the writers are making the characters unlikeable. And to make it clear my problem here is with the writing not the actual characters themselves but to me they’ve at times made veronica seem unlikeable like when she sleeps with Chad, Jughead with the voicemail to Betty, Betty with her not seeming to care at all about Jughead, Archie with him sleeping with Betty and then after stopping that getting right with Veronica the next day. I don’t know if its just that they are trying to keep the core four separate for some reason? But it just seems a bit off, I know I said I wanted more varying interactions between the characters but I didn’t mean at the expense of the core four relationships. But maybe they are trying to show how it can take time to reconnect with old friends when you’ve been away from each other for a long time?

Anyway back to Jughead the other thing that was a little bit annoying for me was that the timeline was a little confusing. When Jughead is telling the story it seems like it all happened in like a year but its not its spread out over the seven years he was gone. We know that the voicemail was 2 years ago so putting it at five years into the time jump and that was the night he fell into the sinkhole. But in the story it seems like its only a few days later that Archie called when actually it would have been two years after Juggie fell in a deep dark hole. But then I suppose a confusing timeline is peak Riverdale so. But yeah I did find it made his story a bit confusing which was frustrating.

However Jughead does seem a bit more optimistic come the end of his story and I think hopefully things are going to start getting better for him I hope he does get some support from his friends though like Tabitha and Archie, I also hope he clears the air with Betty. Just so he isn’t feeling so isolated and alone.

Betty

So the last story is Betty trying to find out where Polly is from the trucker serial killer that she has chained up in her shop class at high school. Again not much to say about this. I thought it was smart to use Alice as a way to emotionally manipulate the killer and to make Polly seem human to him so he’ll tell them where she is. This does backfire however and we end up with that ridiculous scene where Alice tells Betty then as her mother she is giving her permission to kill him. Alice honey I’m not sure but my mum said it was ok is going to hold up too well in a court of law. Betty decided instead to see if she can scare him into telling her the truth. So she threatens him with some pretty dark stuff, saying she will cut off his feet, then his legs and the knees then the groin. Then his wrists and that he might have a heart attack at that point, but that she reckons he is stronger than that and that she has some tricks up her sleeve. Which is really dark betty really dark. Then when she is collecting a chainsaw she ahs a flashback and we find out that this is what TBK said to her which somehow makes it even scarier and worse, I really need Betty to talk to someone about this asap because just like I am with Archie, I am worried about where she is heading. We never find out whether she was actually going to go through with cutting up the trucker because when she gets back he has bitten off his own tongue and swallowed it so he would choke. Betty does figure out though that they are dealing with a family of killers who are hunting their victims.

Phew ok so that is all of the episodes that I missed. I know I complained alot in this review so apologies for that. To end on a positive note I am very excited for the next episode as we are going to be getting the pussycats back so I am hoping for a good episode.

#riverdale #riverdale spoilers #Riverdale Review #anti varchie #anti bughead #just in case

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signs-of-the-moon · 3 years ago

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Moon Rise: Chapter 50

"Look, they've come back!" Lightpaw exclaimed as Whitestar and the rest of her patrol made their way into Grassclan's camp. At the young apprentice's call, the rest of the clan had begun to gather around, eager to hear news of what came from the meeting with Treeclan.

"Well? What did Blazestar have to say for himself?" Chicorynose asked, tail wagging with anxiety.

"We are to settle this war the day after tomorrow," Whitestar responded, body tense. Swiftcloud flanked one of her sides and could feel the leader's dread through her fur. It was almost overwhelming. If her clanmates were not pressed so closely around them, Swiftcloud would have withdrawn to calm herself.

"Which means we only have a short time to prepare," Chicorynose murmured, eyes darkening.

Whitestar nodded, looking at each of her warriors as she spoke. "For the rest of the day, up until sundown tomorrow, I want every able bodied cat to train. We must ensure our skills are sharp so that we may claim our victory."

And so that we don't lose any more warriors, Swiftcloud added in her mind, figuring the same thought might be running through Whitestar's. She gave the leader a glance, able to tell her prediction to be true by the turmoil on the other molly's siamese face.

"I'll send everyone out, then." Chicorynose turned, already prepared to order partners and apprentices to team up and get to work.

Swiftcloud and the others on her patrol had been dismissed from training for the evening. They'd be on a long journey, and Whitestar knew all too well the dread it had caused them all. Swiftcloud was grateful for the break, although she didn't allow her time to be wasted. She wanted her skills as sharp as the rest of the clan's, especially after being unconscious for three days.

Across the camp, Swiftcloud spotted one of her mates laying beside the fresh-kill pile. Shadowfang looked to be at peace, having a rest after being out at The Dip battle training with Quailbelly and Thornpaw. Swiftcloud almost felt bad to disturb him. But a mischievous idea crossed through her mind. One that she knew she couldn't pass up.

"Hey, Shadowfang?" she meowed, drawing her mate's attention as she padded over to him.

Shadowfang glanced up at Swiftcloud, gnawing on the leftovers from his dinner. He gave his lips a satisfied smack, then sat up straight to acknowledge the white and black patched she-cat. "Yeah?"

Swiftcloud smiled innocently, wiggling her nubby tail. Before Shadowfang could comment on her odd behavior, she threw herself onto him, mouthing at his ear and tugging on it playfully. She pushed with all of her strength, trying to flatten the him to the ground. Shadowfang squirmed beneath her, swinging his head side to side in an attempt to throw her off his back.

"Hey, quit it!" Shadowfang hissed, laughter in his voice. He rolled over a little, batting at Swiftcloud's whiskers. Swiftcloud growled at him playfully, leading to her being squashed by the larger cat's flank. Swiftcloud squealed, wiggling from beneath the black tom. She jumped up momentarily, allowing Shadowfang to spring to his paws. He turned, pouncing onto his mate so her could nibble on her shoulder, giving her ear a cuff. "Take that!"

"Foolish Shadowclan cat, I'll make crowfood of you!" Swiftcloud yowled dramatically.

"Foolish, am I?" Shadowfang played along. "That is where you're wrong. You'll never defeat me, Swiftstar. For I, Shadowstar, am the most powerful clan leader in the world!"

"We'll see about that!" Swiftcloud retorted, rolling onto her back. She kicked up at Shadowfang's underbelly, with claws sheathed, trying hard to throw him off of her. Shadowfang continued to nibble on her shoulder and neck, earning thrill filled squeals from the patched molly. With one more effort filled kick, Swiftcloud managed to move Shadowfang from on top of her. She scrambled to get paws, darting away from the tom with a taunt. Shadowfang growled playfully, crouching to the floor. Her pelted after his mate a heartbeat later, gaining on her with ease. He pounced once more, tussling with her on the grassy floor. Squeaks and trills of laughter floated in the air between them as they rolled, their witty banter growing more and more dramatic. It felt good to play around with Shadowfang again like this. It reminded Swiftcloud of one of the reasons why she'd fallen in love with him. She enjoyed his playful spirit. Shadowfang never failed to make feel young and free. And though Swiftcloud was already both of these things, she knew that she'd truly felt this way whenever Shadowfang was around. To her, Shadowfang was joy; he was an adventure waiting to happen and a life full of experience. To Swiftcloud, Shadowfang was home.

"What in the name of the earth and stars are you two up to?" A voice called out to the playful mates, gaining both of their attention. Swiftcloud glanced at the cat who had spoken them, a bright smile blooming on her muzzle.

"Play fighting!" She chriped. "Care to join us, Misty?" She invited.

Mistyleaf shook her head, rolling her eyes playfully. "Silly furballs," she mewed as he booped Swiftcloud's nose, cuffing Shadowfang over the ear when he sat up. "How about we share tongues instead? Then you can tell Shadowfang and I all about your visit to Treeclan," Mistyleaf proposed.

Swiftcloud perked up the idea, agreeing without a second thought. The mates padded over to the edge of the clearing, entangling themselves with one another while they talked and groomed. During their chat, Swiftcloud's thoughts would wander. She realized while Shadowfang represented a life of freedom and fun, Mistyleaf stood for comfort. The silver molly was safety, trustworthiness, and softness. She was the calmness in the calamity. The voice of reason. To Swiftcloud, Mistyleaf was sanctuary. And together, both her and Shadowfang were the pure definition of love. Swiftcloud knew she could never adore any other cats more.

The moon soon climbed to its peak in the sky, summoning hard working warriors home, and putting them to sleep. Swiftcloud, Shadowfang and Mistyleaf rose from their resting place padding into the warriors' den. They settled back down together in their shared nest, passing on wishes of good rest and sweet dreams before closing their eyes until morning light.

When dawn graced the clearing the following day, Chicorynose and Tigerfang were all too eager to rouse everyone in the clan from their collective slumber.

"Up, up, up! Let's get out there and work our tails off. We only have a short time left before the great battle!" Chicorynose caterwauled, earning a collection of groans. "I've already taken the liberty of gathering the apprentices in the clearing. Go and grab your 'Paws and partners, let's head out."

"I'll see you two later," Shadowfang said to the mollies in his nest. He stood up, giving his shoulder a few licks. "I'm gonna take Thornpaw and Lightpaw out to the Mountainclan border today, with Frostfeather and Pansypaw. Actually-- Swiftcloud, do you wanna come along with your apprentice?"

"No thanks, I already have plans to bring Tulippaw and Tabitha to The Dip today," Swiftcloud replied, standing with a stretch. Shadowfang shrugged, muttering out a "fair enough" before he padding out of the den.

Swiftcloud bid him an extra farewell, turning to groom Mistyleaf.

Mistyleaf purred gratefully, nudging Swiftcloud with her muzzle. "You should go too. And I've got to help Goldensong prepare herbs."

Swiftcloud whined slightly but ultimately agreed. She gave Mistyleaf one last lick on the cheek before heading out of the warriors' den, ready to get the day started. A chilly wind ruffled her short fur as she emerged into the open. Her pawpads tingled from the cold ground beneath them, making her take careful steps as she made her way over to her apprentices.

Tulippaw trilled as Swiftcloud approached, rushing forward to tuck her head under her mentor's chin.

"I missed you!" She practically yowled, a wetness pooling at the edges of her eyes as she pulled away to look at Swiftcloud. Swiftcloud purred, licking the younger molly between the ears. She was well aware that Tulippaw had caught wind of the lie Snowfrost told. That Swiftcloud might not last the next quarter moon. Tulippaw had already lost one mentor. Though they were not close, Ambereye's death had still effected her. Starclan only knew how broken Tulippaw would become if anything ever happened to Swiftcloud. Luckily, Swiftcloud had no plans on dying any time soon. She was healthy again, and strong. She was determined to prove that to the brown and white she-cat. To give her the reassurance she needed.

"Alright, 'Paws, let's head out," Chicorynose meowed as she padded over to the apprentices. She turned, noticing the other she-cat besides the group. "Oh Swiftcloud! Are you tagging along?"

"I was actually planning on taking the apprentices myself today," she mewed in response. It has been a while since she had gotten to train Tulippaw. And she hadn't gotten the chance to assess Tabitha's skills just yet.

"Oh really? Where were you planning to go?"

"The Dip," Swiftcloud explained her idea for the day. She was willing to go into greater detail, if it meant she could convince Chicorynose to let her have the apprentices.

"What a coincidence! That's where I had planned to take them. How about we all go together then?" Chicorynose proposed. Swiftcloud thought about it for a heartbeat, agreeing to the plan rather quickly. It had been some moons since she'd been out training with her own mentor. And though she had graduated from her apprentice training, she still appreciated any lessons Chicorynose would still give. Tulippaw and Tabitha seemed excited by the plan, racing over to the bramble tunnel ahead of the warriors. Swiftcloud and Chicorynose chased after them, rushing to keep up as they made their way across the meadow. The wind grew more bitter as they hurried along, making Swiftcloud pray for the fresh warmth of Newleaf to grace the Land's Star sooner rather than later.

Eventually, the Dip came into their line of sight. It welcomed the Grassclan cats to its sandy center as they made their way down it's steep slopes. The walls of The Dip provided some shelter from the wind as the four mollies settled within the heart of it. Swiftcloud was grateful for the protection and knew she'd feel warmer just as soon as they would begin training.

"You're in charge today, Swiftcloud. Let's see what kind of training regimen you've got set up for these two hyperactive apprentices," Chicorynose commented.

Swiftcloud nodded, looking at each young cat in turn. She thought for a moment about the best course of action before speaking; "Tulippaw, you and Chicorynose will spar first. Afterwards, I'll be assessing Tabitha's skills. Then the two of you will practice some advanced techniques together, while Chicorynose and I train."

"Awesome!!" Tulippaw perked up at the chance to show off her skills. Tabitha and Swiftcloud shuffled off to the sidelines, keeping away from all the action that was about to unfold. Swiftcloud watched Chicorynose pad across the ditch, turning tail to face her opponent. Tulippaw stepped close to the center, eyes narrowed to focus on the other cat in front of her.

"Alright, Tulip, give me everything you've got." The deputy challenged.

Instantly Tulippaw dropped into a crouch, flexing her claws in excitement. Chicorynose mirrored her stance, stalking the apprentice around the base of The Dip, ready to pounce or defend at any given moment. Tulippaw watched her aunt carefully, eyeing her legs specifically. Chicorynose took notice and dropped down to protect herself, probably thinking she'd already bested the warrior in training.

Be careful of your line of sight; never give away your target with your glance, Swiftcloud was prepared to say, waiting for the apprentice to try and sweep her faux enemy's feet from under her.

But the attack never came. Instead, Tulippaw leaped without warning, springing onto Chicorynose's back. She scraped her paws against the older molly's flanks with sheathed claws, yowling out a battle cry. She'd managed to throw Chicorynose off her guard.

Well done.

Chicorynose fought to get Tulippaw off her back, gaining the upper paw for half a heartbeat when Tulippaw willing let her go. But as the brown and white molly's front paws touched the ground, she turned, kicking her back legs out. This pushed Chicorynose forward, knocking off her balance. She struggled to keep herself from toppling, widening her stance to catch herself. Tulippaw turned once more to smirk.

"Not bad," Chicorynose praised. Without another word she surged forward, swiping at Tulippaw's face. She changed paws every few heartbeats in an attempt to distract the apprentice. Tulippaw did her best to dodge the blows, getting hit once or twice. Though she managed to maneuver or block most of them. But Swiftcloud knew Chicorynose didn't really care whether Tulippaw took damage from her attack. What she was really after was backing her opponent into a corner. It was a technique Swiftcloud knew well, having been subjected to it often during her own apprentice training.

Tulippaw took a pace away each time Chicorynose swiped. Eventually, she ended up with her rear pinned again The Dip's wall. Chicorynose took this oppurtunity to pounce, slamming her body into Tulippaw's. Tulippaw hit the wall with a thud, sliding against it as she collapsed on the floor. She wasn't injured-Chicorynose would never have hit Tulippaw that hard-but the impact was enough to throw her off her paws. The deputy then set herself upon the younger she-cat, effectively pinning her. After struggling to get out of her aunt's grip, Tulippaw finally went limp in defeat.

"Great try," Swiftcloud purred as Chicorynose let Tulippaw sit up. She padded over to her apprentice, nubby tail held high. "Yknow you almost had her for a heartbeat. But you weren't paying much attention to your surroundings. A Grassclan warrior must always be aware of what's going on around them, from the ground to the sky. Many predators and cats will try to take advantage of you by attacking from unexpected directions. Or by tricking you into a spot you can't escape from. You have to always be guarded, and clever. Other than that, your blows hit hard, which is good, and your fighting stance is almost flawless. I'm very proud of your progress. You're going to be great tomorrow."

Tulippaw beamed, her glee as bright as the Greenleaf sun. She stood to shake some dust from her pelt, then gave a little bounce.

"Do you think I'll make a good warrior someday?" She asked hopefully.

"'Good?' No." Swiftcloud smirked. "I bet you're going to be one of the greatest warriors Grassclan's ever known. With enough training you'll end up being the best Fighter. If that's the job you choose to have. And you're already a very good hunter!"

Tulippaw giggled, giving her mentor a lick on the shoulder respectfully.

Swiftcloud turned. "Alright, Tabitha, it's your turn now. Let's see what Chicorynose has taught you recently."

"Really?" Tabitha seemed unsure. "But I thought I didn't have to fight in the battle tomorrow?"

"Of course you don't. But it's always good to test your skills. Even without your claws, you need to know how to defend yourself. If not for anyone else's sake, then for the kits and queens."

"For the kits and queens... Alright, I'll give it a try." Tabitha padded to the middle of The Dip, trading places with Tulippaw. She didn't seem nervous, despite previous hesitation. But she certainly seemed uncomfortable. Tulippaw wrapped her tail around Tabitha's briefly, giving it a reassuring shake before she moved to settle at the edge of The Dip besides Chicorynose.

Chicorynose lifted a forepaw to wrap around the apprentice's neck, pulling her close to her fluffy chest. With her free paw, she rubbed her niece's head playfully, earning yowls of protest as the young cat struggled to get away.

Swiftcloud chuckled seeing the two of them play, directing her attention back onto Tabitha soon after. She decided she would be taking it easy on the pregnant apprentice. But not enough to where she would be unable to learn. And certainly not to a point where Tulippaw may assume the queen was being coddled.

"Ready?" Swiftcloud checked as she watched the plump queen drop into a fighting stance.

Tabitha nodded curtly. "Whenever you are."

Swiftcloud dashed off from her spot immediately as the challenge began, running around Tabitha, trying to use her weight against her. Her growing belly made her slow, which granted Swiftcloud a bit of an advantage. Tabitha swung around to keep up, kicking out a back leg in order to defend herself. She managed to land a hit, shoving Swiftcloud away by a mouse-length. Then she turned like a snake, baring her fangs as if to warn her enemy of her sharp bite.

Swiftcloud rushed ahead without hesitation, throwing a front paw blow at the plump brown and white tabby. Tabitha caught Swiftcloud's paw in her mouth, biting down on it and pulling her second mentor closer to herself. Swiftcloud let out an astonished shriek, finding herself crushed beneath Tabitha's weight as she was pulled closer to her body. Swiftcloud swung wildly beneath the apprentice, hitting her with her paws in a mock scratch. Tabitha's heft pressed her opponent harder against the earth, her teeth fastening themselves into Swiftcloud's scruff. When the warrior had tired herself out, the training queen pulled her out from under herself, throwing the patched molly across The Dip with little effort. Swiftcloud narrowly avoided hitting the opposite wall, skidding to a half just a whisker-length in front of it. She smirked over at Tabitha, panting to catch her breath.

"You're a fast learner," she remarked, recalling how little time the apprentice queen had been part of the clan.

Tabitha lifted her head proudly. "With two of the clan's best warriors as my mentors, it's easy for me to learn."

"I think that's enough sparring for you two today," Chicorynose meowed, stepping forward. "Why don't you go practice some moves with Tulippaw now, Tabitha? I think my old apprentice may need a refresher course in the meantime."

Swiftcloud perked at the deputy's comment, an excited smile blooming on her muzzle. She did feel a little embarrassed, being beaten by a cat who'd only been training for a moon. She was more than happy to take on another lesson by her beloved mother figure. "Yeah!"

Tabitha and Chicorynose traded off, ready to face their new opponents without apprehension. Swiftcloud immediately dropped into a stance, bracing herself for whatever the deputy may throw at her.

The four mollies trained until the sun began to dip towards the horizon. Their bodies ached from a successful day of working by the time they climbed from the confines of the Dip. Swiftcloud was confident that the group was prepared for what tomorrow's battle may bring. But for the time being, all she would let herself focus on was getting home and resting. Worrying about the war's end could wait for her until sunrise.

#warrior cats #wcs #warrior cats ocs #Signs of the Moon #Signs of the Moon: Moon Rise #Moon Rise #chapter 50

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buirbaby · 4 years ago

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The Wardens: A New Wind Blows

Notes: Please note that this fanfic is entirely self-indulgent and warps a bit of the plotting/history. I thought it'd be fun to do a reincarnation insert, but also add rules to it to make it more difficult for the protagonist to be successful in saving canon characters. I've also added lore about the Wardens and griffins, because why not. Might not make sense (though I am trying to be as canonical as I can), but it's fun to write!

Rating: M + Mature themes, language, and violence

Masterlist | First | Next

Cold. Everything was so blasted cold.

Shuddering, Tabitha rolled over and opened her eyes, enough light in front of her for her breath to stream through the air. It had been early summer, why was it cold as balls here? Groaning, she sat up and rubbed the back of her head. Wherever she'd been laid down, it was lumpy, hard, and uncomfortable. Her bare palm scrabbled against stone and confusion ripped through her. Fire. There had been a fire in her home and Balerion had woken her up.

"Balerion?" she called, her hoarse voice echoing through the cave. None of this made sense. One moment she had been passing out from suffocating on smoke and now she was in some icy cave? Maybe this was hell. That's what she got for her years of service, somehow avowing that killing for her country was somehow not murder. God seemed to think not and thus this was his version of purgatory or hell. Who would've thought that hell was frosty? Grumbling, she clambered to her feet and glanced around, uncertain which direction was deeper into the cave and which was out. Either way, she needed to get moving because she was going to freeze her tits off at this rate.

Trailing into the abyss, she continued along the only path set before her, curious if some demon or spectre would greet her in the afterlife. Would they tell her she was an idiot for not taking the offer of money? Or that somehow that condo company had a hand in her death?

There was a light up ahead, brightening the shadows that she was having difficulty glaring through. Did all cats go to heaven and she was damned? At least death hadn't been that painful, just like going to sleep before the tidal waves of fire consumed them. Out of all the things that Tabitha could be thinking, she thought about how crappy it was that this fire had to happen right before the trip of a lifetime she'd been waiting for. Iceland had been the most anticipated trip, even bigger than Denali. So much for celebrating her big 3-0 in the fjords and ice. Now she'd rot in the ground at eternally 29.

The mouth widened in front of her and a chill breeze swept right through her, making her shudder, as she drew her arms closer. Shafts of grey light filtered in through slats in the stone, the cavern dome-shaped and wide open. Dried grass and leaf litter was scattered against the ground, almost in the shape of nests, but they were long abandoned. In front of her, she thought she saw a fleeting bit of moment, a dark shadow slinking along the perimeter of the room, but doubted herself. It wasn't until the pool of darkness flew across, pouncing on her, that her heart leapt up into her throat and her body collided back with the hard stone flooring. Gasping, trying to flounder for air that had been driven from her lungs, she was eye to eye was a behemoth creature.

Brilliant fiery orange eyes blinked at her, set into a raptor's face, only the head of the bird was larger than her own. Obsidian feathers encircled its face, a wickedly sharp beak preening close to her face, a set of long tufted ears twitching. Undoubtedly a demon of hell, Tabitha was convinced, wondering if she'd screwed up her descent into the layers or if she should have tried running. She need only wait for it to disembowl her to begin her eternal torture in this frigid wasteland, but it was acting strangely. Tilting its head to the side before a soft murmur, almost like a huffing trill-similar to that of a cat caught between a purr and meow-blew her hair back. No, she knew those eyes. She hadn't thought of them like fire before, but more like pumpkins.

"Balerion?" she whispered, afraid that speaking any louder would enrage the creature.

The raptor pushed its face into hers, nuzzling the shiny ink black beak into her cheek, before clambering off to allow her to sit up. Tabitha was startled by what she saw, her cat's feline form condensed to only the frame of which he now possessed, his bottle brush tail sweeping behind him, a thick mane of feathers and fur clustered around his neck and throat, akin to a lion. But his front paws were talons, sharper than knives, fashioned for killing. Yet, the griffin's mannerisms bespoke of her soul mate.

"What the fuck is going on?" she managed, pushing herself to her feet to trot toward him, burying her fingers in the warmth of his feathers. Damn, it was cold here and Balerion was radiating heat. "Man, we're definitely not in Kansas anymore, are we bud? You're... huge." Trying to fathom how it was possible her house cat had turned into a griffin, Tabitha continued to puzzle as she kept close to him.

Another trill of agreement before the feline pulled away, ear tufts twitching, before he let out a low growl, beak parting in fury. Suddenly, she was thrust behind him, barely able to glance over the broad set of wings he was unfurling to challenge the person approaching them. However, the initial reaction simmered down, the heat dialed back as a voice spoke in a soothing language that she did not comprehend.

"Please. Warden. Come out," the voice was youthful, childish, but within the timbre of the tone there was a great weight, almost as if there was a deep ancient wisdom contained within. A shiver lanced down her spine as she stepped out, pressing her palm against Balerion's muzz-er-beak to quell him. Despite the young voice, the small being in front of her was not inherently child-looking aside from the short stature. Just as she'd been startled with the griffin, the nut-brown skin dappled with spots like a baby deer caught her off guard. Its ears were also reminiscent of a doe, large and prominent as their slitted eyes.

He wore a cloak of leaves, his dark hair intertwined with vines and lichen.

"What... are you?" Part of her recalled the descriptors deep down, but it seemed too farfetched just along with the rest of this queer world.

"The humans call us the Children of the Forest. We call ourselves those who sing the song of the earth in our True Tongue," he answered cryptically, confirming what her heart had suspected. The revelation stole her breath away, the shock of falling into the depths of a book she'd had on her nightstand the evening of her death bone chilling. "I am called Fang."

"How are we here? This should be impossible," Tabitha muttered, convinced this was a coma dream. Still, it felt so real. Maybe they had survived the fire and her dying brain had concocted this dream state to float in while she healed. Whatever it was, being dropped into the realm of A Song of Ice and Fire without any blood ties to nobility was real shitty.

"I didn't think that another of your kind would awaken. I've stayed here a long time, protecting the Roost . The last of its kind after men hunted the griffins to extinction," Fang explained, gesturing to the nests, in which Tabitha could see were more figures. However, upon scrutiny she realized that they were stone, trapped eternally in their slumber. "But it was told that for every griffin here, there is one Warden, another half to their soul, waiting to rejoin them in this life."

"Excuse me for not being aware of what my sacred, foretold destiny is, but can you enlighten me? What exactly is a warden?"

Fang was more than keen to oblige, the years of solitude in this cold cavern grating on him. "Wardens are keepers of knowledge. Wargs in their own right. Warriors and guides during times of extreme strife."

"Never heard of them," Tabitha remarked, racking her brain for any lore on Wardens, but had never recalled seeing them in the books. Maybe they hadn't been recorded for a reason, a loophole that could change the tide of what had been written, never quite taking on a form themselves since they weren't nobles or remarkable characters aside from trying to subvert plotlines they knew were going to happen. Griffin-wielding-wargs. That's what she was now. "Then... Are we north of the Wall?" Where else would a Child of the Forest be? Unless this was well before when the books she'd known were set, this was the last frontier the Children had left.

"Yes, we are... You are familiar with Westeros' geography?"

"I am," Tabitha admitted grudgingly. "So, Fang, what's the plan? I mount up on Balerion and we fly off to try and change the world?" That was a fanciful way to put it and putting way too much hope in the fact that they wouldn't get shot right out of the sky while flying over the Wall.

"No," Fang shook his head. "You are not ready. You are not equipped for the journey. And unless you'd like to perish before your quest has even begun, you'd be wise not to just show up at any doorstep and hope for safe harbor, especially as a woman."

So Fang wasn't stupid. Tabitha's lips quirked up. "Then what do we do?"

This question would soon be answered, as Fang led them out of the cumbersome room that had wind ripping through it with icy, gnashing teeth. The cave went deeper, illuminated by strange blue lights contained within gnarled tree branches, more for her than it was for Fang, so that she might see where she placed her foot as they descended. Still, she wondered how any of this was real. How such a thing existed. Quietly, she amassed a collection of questions to ask Fang once they arrived at their destination.

The caverns grew warmer, the heat of a primordial hearth burning deep within the heart of the mountain. It took Tabitha a moment, staring at the grooves of the stone, the purposeful counter set in front of it, to realize that this was a forge. Fang paused, cocking his head and tilting his feline eyes back up toward her.

"This forge only lights when a Warden has awoken," he told her.

"When's the last time you saw it lit?" she asked.

"I have never, but before me, the time of dragons and conquerers came with the forge was bright and hot," Fang replied, skirting the room to place small hands on slate slabs that had been hewn into the wall, similar to a tomb.

"Lot a good a griffin must have been against dragons," Tabitha spoke her thought aloud, wondering how that would have sufficed. Balerion was large, perhaps even big enough to ride, but in comparison to the real Balerion? He was a pup, a mite without scales to protect him. Depending on when they were, dragons might fly again and be creatures that she'd have to be wary of. The thought of the flying reptilians made her shudder, Balerion pushing his head into her side as he noticed that she was disturbed.

"Griffins are fast," Fang countered, pushing the stone slab with a shocking amount of strength. "Faster than dragons perhaps. But they're not here to serve the same purpose. Balerion is here as a partner and an escort, not to raze cities or conquer empires."

"Good, I don't think that was on my bucket list," Tabitha quipped. "What year is it? Do you know?"

"If I've been keeping good enough record, 294 AC," the stone had been removed entirely and in its place was the hollowed out tomb filled with items.

294? That was a few years before the events of the first book. While she might not have been ready to embark on any crusade to change the ill fate of many characters, she realized now that she had time to figure out what the hell she was doing. "Well that's a relief. Would've sucked to show up after-" but the words didn't form, her tongue twisting in her mouth and becoming slow and dumb. She tried again, trying to explain the situation that would play out in a few years time, only to find that she could not speak it aloud at all.

Fang turned, his lips curving up in a smile. "Ah, so it is true," he commented, looking more his age than childish as he crossed his arms. "Legend says that for all the knowledge the Wardens might have, they cannot speak it to another."

Tabitha wanted to dash her brains against the stone. She knew all of this shit and she couldn't tell anyone? Couldn't write it down? Now this threw a bigger wrench in her plans. For if she came to a situation where she could save someone by simply saying 'hey look out for the Freys', she could not. "How am I supposed to do anything?" she hissed irritably.

"You'll know. Just as the forge beats with the life in your heart, you will know when it is time to make yourself known and to help change the tides of fate. Actions speak louder than words," Fang retorted, pulling out a thick, padded doublet that was within the stone storage. "Here, these should fit you. It is cold outside the forge and eventually, you will have to brave it."

Accepting the attire that had been stolen away for centuries, Tabitha was more than eager to put it on in place of her own thin clothing. Things could not be simple. She could not have the power over death in words, she would have to be clever, strong, resilient and work her way into politics without the cushion of a title or lands. Christ, that was going to be hard and even having Balerion beside her seemed more like a burden than a saving grace. No, she was thankful he was there, her dark star amidst the turmoil and confusion that was the world she'd suddenly been thrust into, but she felt daunted.

While Fang continued to rummage through the ancient artifacts of Wardens passed, she sat on a bench made of rock, hewn into the wall, and stared into the dancing flames of the hearth. Fire had taken her from her past life and now a new fire was ignited. Her fingertips swirled along her open palm, feeling the strange new mark that had found its way there, that hadn't been there. A swirl shaped like a griffin's head, rough around the edges, and akin to a burn--as if it had been branded into her skin. It did not hurt, but she wondered if this was her boon as a Warden.

To save Westeros. Obviously, the Night King would be the largest priority. Given that she was north of the Wall, she had to assume that her 'in' would be with the wildlings or the Night's Watch. Again, her head throbbed in worry, wondering how she'd manage to convince others that she was worthy of their time and not just a good lay, rape, or twat. She could not speak of what she knew, so she had to count on her actions and the cleverness of her tongue to aid those that she knew Westeros would be better with. Could she make it to Winterfell before Ned Stark left for King's Landing? Could she stop Bran from falling from the broken tower? Did she want to stop him? So many questions that had no answers and yet the fire danced madly in front of her, beckoning with flaming fingers, whispering into her ears.

"We shall guide you."

Through fire there had been rebirth. Not in the same manner as Dondarrian when he had a priest bless and revive him, but in another ancient method. Between worlds and veils. The fire had claimed the Warden and then spat her out into the arctic mountain that would suffice to become her home for the next few years as she gained her feet. A modern woman in a dark, twisted medieval fantasy. Not once had Tabitha yearned to be tossed amongst the pages she read with delight, because she knew that life was fickle, dangerous, and uncertain. No one was favored, even the main characters could die.

"Here," Fang interrupted her train of thoughts, breaking her line of sight with the fire that she had fallen into a trans with. He held up a scabbard before her, the sheathe a dark midnight blue, enameled with white gold detailing. Not too much, simple and clean, just enough that it wasn't utterly nondescript. The weight felt heavy on her lap, her fingers turning around the straps of the belt before she gripped the handle and pulled part of the blade out.

For a sword that had been collecting dust for more than a hundred years, it was honed and sharp. No, that was not right. There was a reason for that. Tabitha pulled it out entirely, the rippling waves in the folded steel catching the light of the fire and throwing refractions around the space like a mirror held to the sun. This was Valyrian steel, with no need to be taken to a whetstone.

"Fuck, I don't know how to use a sword."

#game of thrones fanfiction #game of thrones fanfic #asoiaf fanfiction #asoiaf fanfic #a song of ice and fire fanfic #reincarnation insert #freeform #added lore #the ability to change the future but with a twist #romance is not the main theme #BAMF female OC #buirbaby writes #The Wardens

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kumeko · 4 years ago

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A/N: I’m having fun writing this. Part 3 of the @marveltrumpshate fic I wrote for @wombatking

Summary: There was something luxurious about waking up at 7:30am, to an empty room, with an empty bathroom, and the kitchen all to herself. Kitty hit the jackpot.

…

There was something luxurious about waking up at 7:30am. Absolutely luxurious. Kitty wanted nothing more than to sprawl over her bed, languidly stretching before she finally rolled off. Unfortunately, her right leg was a dead weight to all of this, so she had to settle for lazily yawning and spreading her arms above her. The birds had been awake for hours, her dormmates equally so, and she had the most glorious sleep. She hadn’t even noticed when Rogue had left for training, her roommate for once not waking her up with her extensive morning prep.

For a girl who claimed that she didn’t care what others thought of her, she spent an awfully long time in front of the mirror. Kitty chuckled at the thought. Rogue was full of strange contradictions and the more she learned, the more she liked. It was strange to think that at one point they’d fought like cats and dogs.

Well, if Kitty were honest, they still fought sometimes now, but they always made up after.

It was harder than she expected, to get off the bed. Her leg felt weird, her movements even more so—her legs didn’t feel in sync, her left far too light and quick, her right too slow and heavy. Walking was a strange hop and dance. Dressing even more so. She half-wished she had Velcro pants, like the ones Spike used for his stupid “my pants ripped off!” joke. The only problem was that they were ugly. On the bright side, she was more than used to putting a little pain in for her fashion.

As she passed by a window, she caught sight of Jean and Amara running through the obstacle course, sweaty and tired. “Glad that’s not me,” she murmured, grinning as she stepped into the for-once-empty bathroom.

She’d been wrong. The best part of her broken leg wasn’t sleeping in, it was the fact that there was no rush. No one knocked on the door, asking her to get out. Kitty didn’t have to bounce impatiently on her feet, waiting for the door to open so she could rush in. Nope, the bathroom was all hers, for however long she wanted.

So was the kitchen, so was the tv—if she’d realized how good it was, she’d have broken her leg ages ago. Maybe in six weeks she could break the other one. Chewing on a piece of toast, she idly flipped through the channels. News, weather, Say Yes to the Dress, Psycho—

“Ready to go?” Scott said, suddenly appearing behind her.

Kitty almost dropped her toast, surprised. Instinctively, she turned off the TV, flushing a bright red. “I, that—” She wasn’t even sure why she was feeling flustered. This was fine! Technically allowed! No one expected otherwise!

Yet it was one thing to relax when no one was around, and another to do it in front of her slightly sweaty housemate. Scott’s hair might be carefully combed, but his skin still had a light sheen to it from all the exercise. Noticing her stare, he cocked his head. “What’s wrong?”

He’d always been a slightly dense brick. Fighting back her embarrassment, Kitty scarfed down her toast and stood up. “N-nothing. Let’s go.”

“Alright then. I pulled my car up front, so just slip in.” Scott picked up her backpack and slung it over his shoulder. “You know, instead of a reality show, you should try watching the news.”

If Kitty could have, she would have stomped to the car.

-x-

“Hey girl!” Kitty got no other warning before a pair of slightly tanned arms wrapped around her neck, hugging her tight. Tabitha pressed her cheek against Kitty’s, her messy hair tickling her neck. As usual, her perfume was as loud as she was. “Heard you got hurt.”

“Tabitha!” Kitty laughed, leaning into her friend. She’d been getting lonely anyways, sitting in the playground as she was. Kurt had gone to get lunch and unfortunately the track team wasn’t practicing, so she couldn’t even stare at them. “Did Amara tell you?”

“Didn’t have to, I have eyes.” Tabitha let go and rested her hands on her hips. “I hear Blue is now two for two for training accidents?”

“It was my fault this time, not his.” Kitty rubbed her neck sheepishly. To be honest, the other time hadn’t been entirely his fault either—Tabitha had a little to do with it. Gesturing at her leg, she explained, “I broke my leg, so now I’ve got that ugly thing.”

“I know training sucks, but I didn’t think you’d go that far to get out.” Tabitha whistled as she saw the cast. “Damn, that’s clunky.”

“I know, right! It’s like I have snowpants or something.” Kitty rapped on the top of her cast. “It’s so thick! I don’t want to know what’ll smell like after all of this heat.”

“You’re lucky it isn’t summer, or you’d be roasting in it.” Tabitha scrunched her nose, her lips curling with disgust. “Broke my arm once, on a job, and not only was I utterly useless after, I reeked like Toad.”

“Seriously?” Kitty didn’t have to ask to know what sort of ‘job’ she was referring to. Wincing, she looked at her cast again. Tabitha had to be exaggerating, right? “It’s not that bad, right? I can’t get it off for six weeks. I don’t want to deal with smell on top of everything.”

“Just spray some perfume on it.” Tabitha winked. She mimed spraying it on. “Works like a charm.”

“Eww.” Kitty glared at the offending cast, her heart sinking. Just how stinky could the thing get? She groaned. “So either I smell like Toad or a flowershop.”

“Hey, the choice is yours.” Tabitha grinned, shrugging. “I bet Logan won’t like either smell.”

“I don’t think Rogue or Kurt will like it either.” Resigning herself to her fate, she hoped they’d still hang around her after six weeks were up.

“Cheer up, it’s not that bad. You get a lot of sympathy goodies.” Tabitha crouched next to the cast, a marker in hand. She started doodling something, just out of Kitty’s sight. “People open doors for you, give you seats, sometimes even food—”

“You shouldn’t eat things strangers give you,” Kitty warned, worried about that last one. Sometimes, she was amazed Tabitha made it to high school. More often, though, she was impressed the school hadn’t burned to the ground multiple times, considering her short temper. “And what’re you drawing?”

“You’ll see!” Tabitha replied cheekily, her brow furrowed as she finished her masterpiece.

Kitty rolled her eyes. “Fine, keep your secrets.”

“I’m pretty good at that, ask anyone.” Tabitha smirked up at her. “How’re the geeks taking this? Bet Logan ain’t happy.”

“They’re like, the only bad part.” Kitty grimaced, remembering Scott’s lectures. And she had to get a ride from him for the next six weeks—her mornings were going to be so ruined. “I swear, Scott and Jean won’t shut up about it, and Logan’s just counting down the days till he can make me suffer again.”

Tabitha stood up now, laughing. “Sounds like ‘em.” Hand on her hip, she gave her a wry look. “Honestly, you should just ditch that whole scene and join me. It might not be the best place to stay, but it’s the funnest.”

There was absolutely no way Kitty was staying in that rundown house the brotherhood claimed was ‘livable’. She’d been there a handful of times, and each time she wasn’t sure how the place hadn’t been torn down. At the very least, it had to be filled with lice or something. “I’m not that desperate.”

“Yet.” Tabitha pocketed her marker and waved before waltzing away. “Lemme know if you change your mind.”

“Not happening!” Kitty laughed, watching as a garbage bin exploded.

-x-

Kitty lay on her bed, examining her cast by her tablelamp light. It was, perhaps, the first time she’d gotten to use that thing without having to cram for a test or something. Today was actually full of firsts—she finished her homework without having to rush, she had dinner on time, and hey, she saw an episode of her favourite drama on time instead of catching a rerun.

Even now, she was lying in her bed, at 11pm, and not bone-tired for once. Across the room, Rogue snored lightly as she slept, too tired from training to complain about the light. The house was utterly silent at that this time and if it weren’t for the lights-out rules, she’d have snuck around to see just how different the house was at night.

For now, she bent over her cast, running her fingers along the different signatures she’d collected. After Tabitha had signed it, the rest of her friends popped in, one after another, all ready to make a mark. The once white cast was now a collage of signatures and messages. Rogue had written her name in purple ink, with nothing else added to it, and Kitty couldn’t figure out if it was because she didn’t have anything she wanted to write, or if it was because she was too embarrassed to put anything.

Feel better soon, Honey, Kurt had written in blue ink, and Kitty smiled as she pressed her fingers on the pink heart he’d drawn beside his name. It was utterly cheesy, but she liked that about Kurt.

There was a picture of a grumpy Logan next to Spike’s name, and Kitty covered her mouth to muffle her laughter. He was a terrible artist, and that only made it funnier. Logan was either a furious hedgehog or he was some new evolution of a bear. Definitely not human, at the very least.

Finally finished with all the easy to read signatures, Kitty leaned forward and strained her neck to see what was on the back of her cast. More importantly, to see what Tabitha had spent so long drawing. Biting her tongue and squinting, she could just make out the picture.

It was a dick.

Of course it was. She flopped back on her bed, and silently swore revenge.

#xmen #kurtty #kitty pryde #kurt wagner #xmen evolution #nightcrawler #shadowcat #fanfic

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twdsunshine · 3 years ago

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Broken: Pt. 3

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x OFC

Warnings: Language, mentions of alcohol abuse

Word Count: 3,159

Check out my bio for a link to my Masterlist!

*****

Tabby had been doing well, right up until she found the photo albums. They’d been stacked in a battered cardboard box at the back of her mom’s wardrobe, and now she sat, cross-legged on the worn carpet, with one spread open in her lap, flicking through it with shaking hands. Her mother’s face stared up at her, the way she’d been when Tabby had been a child, young and spirited and care-free. She looked happy, content with her life, always with a wide smile dimpling her cheeks. It was a far cry from her appearance the last time that Tabby had visited - hair greying, face gaunt, skin pallid. She had seemed to literally be wasting away before her eyes, and still, still, she couldn’t put down the bottle. It made Tabby angry to think of it.

Switching her focus, she stroked her fingertip over a shot of her and her dad. He was crouching on the porch in his uniform, his face drawn with tiredness, though he was still shooting a cheesy grin towards the camera. His arms were wrapped around her as she balanced on his knee, her cheeks chubby with youth, a couple of gaps in her teeth as she gurned. He’d obviously just gotten home from work, she guessed, and she, as usual, had flown out of the door to greet him. She had his eyes, she knew that, and the thick dark hair that he used to keep short, though she let it grow down to her waist. But she also noticed, for the first time, that she had the same high cheekbones and full lips. She was more like him than she supposed she’d ever realised, and she wondered if it had made it worse for her mom, to see her every day, looking just like the love she’d lost. She would never be able to ask her now.

Every page that she turned dragged a new memory to the forefront of her mind. There were family camping trips, long weekends up at the cabin, birthdays and holidays, and what seemed like a million firsts: her first bike, her hair flying out behind her as her dad pushed her down the road, keeping her upright as she screamed out, the two of them just a blur; her first day at school, her backpack almost bigger than she was, gripping her mother’s hand so tight that her knuckles were white; her first school dance, standing awkwardly in her dress with a sparkly clutch bag dangling from her fingers, one photo with her dad gazing down at her proudly, and one with her mom brushing her hair back from her face, eyes sparkling with affection. How had everything gone so wrong? She used to be a part of a tight, happy family unit, and now she was the only one left. Would she have ended up in this situation, running from everything she’d known and worked for, if she’d still had the two supportive parents of her childhood to watch her back?

The urge to cry swelled in her chest, threatening to drag her under and turn her into a broken, sobbing mess, but she swallowed it down, setting the album aside and glancing at the clock. Midday. With a sudden need to escape the confines of the house for a while, get her head on straight, clear out the dust that she was certain filled her lungs after several hours of hard work, she pushed herself to her feet. Might as well head out and grab some lunch, she thought, grabbing her handbag and locking up, jogging down the front steps and letting the bright sunlight lift the darkness that had settled over her mood.

Her feet carried her along the familiar streets, the warmth tickling over her skin as she tilted her face up to the sky. It was quiet, most of the world at work, she supposed, but she was glad of it as she turned onto the main road into town, her eyes falling to the sign for Grimes Auto shining in the distance. To her left was the small coffee place that she was aiming for, and she pushed her way in, the bell above her head chiming to announce her arrival. There was no queue, and the girl behind the counter greeted her warmly, punching her order for a sandwich and a latte into the cash register. Her mind wandered as she watched her fiddle with the fancy coffee machine before impulse had her waving to grab the barista’s attention.

“Sorry, can I actually grab that to takeaway?”

“Sure, honey, no problem.”

“And could you make it two sandwiches, please? And another coffee, just black.” She dug in her purse for the extra cash, handing over the notes with an apologetic smile. Her order was ready quickly, and she thanked the girl again as she handed over the small paper bag and two cups tucked into a holder, hurrying out of the door and down the road before she could lose her nerve and change her mind.

The auto shop was a hive of activity when Tabby strolled into the yard, several overall-clad figures working away in the workshops at the back. Her car was waiting off to one side, and she gave it a fond pat on the hood as she passed by, casting her eyes around in search of the one person she wanted to see.

A young asian man was buffing the paintwork of a silver SUV beside the workshop entrance, and he glanced up as she approached, trying and failing to conceal his surprise when she asked, “Hey, er, is Daryl around?”

‘Yeah, sure.’ He pushed himself away from the car, leaning into the workshop and hollering out, “Hey, Daryl! Visitor for you!”

Tabby felt her cheeks flush with heat when he turned back to her with one brow arched in curiosity, but, before he could ask any questions, Daryl appeared, wiping his hands off on an oily rag, a deep frown darkening his expression when he saw her standing there. “Hey, everythin’ alright?”

“Oh, yeah, fine.” Suddenly awkward, she held out the coffees balanced in her hand and offered a tentative shrug. “I just… I brought lunch.”

For a moment he just stared at her, eyes narrowed, and she thought he might brush her off, send her on her way, but then his lips twisted in a small smile, and he tucked the rag back into his pocket. “Glenn, m’takin’ a break. C’mon.”

He brushed past her, the skin on skin contact of his arm against hers making her shiver inexplicably, and she turned to follow, falling into step beside him as he headed towards his truck, parked up in one of the employee bays at the side of the building. He shrugged his arms out of his overalls as he walked, bunching the top around his waist and tying it in place there using the sleeves. His white tank top was stark against his tanned skin and the flickers of grease that stained his hands, throat and face.

“I hope this is okay.” Tabby finally found her voice as he hopped up onto the hood of his ride, reaching out a hand to take the drinks and bag from her so she could do the same, settling herself at his side. The metal was warm beneath her bare legs, and she fidgeted to get comfortable as he set their lunch down between them. “I just… I needed to get out of the house, and I figured I owed you for driving me around and stuff, and I-”

“S’fine,” he cut her off, gesturing between the two cups. “One of these mine?”

“Oh, yeah.” She reached for the one marked with a B and held it out to him. “I just got you a black coffee. I wasn’t sure how you like it. Or I’ve got a latte, if you’d prefer.”

“Black’s good,” he assured her, taking it and sipping at the steaming liquid before setting it aside.

“And the sandwiches are both the same.” She smirked. “I figured you probably weren’t vegetarian or anything.”

He looked at her like she was mad, shaking his head as he huffed a laugh. “It’d be a cold day in hell.” He took the proffered bag, peering inside and nodding his approval. “S’good. Thanks.”

She smiled, pleased when he tucked in, taking a large bite, before she followed suit. He was right, it was good, and she felt better for getting away from her mom’s clutter, her own memories, and for being in his company. Perhaps it was weird that he should put her at ease when she barely knew him really, but she didn’t question it. The truth was, she needed a safe haven and, though she knew Daryl couldn’t be it for her long term, for the moment she would take what she could get.

“How’s it goin’ at the house?” he asked after they’d eaten in silence for a few minutes, shooting her a sideways glance as if worried that the question would upset her.

She shrugged. “Okay, I guess. I’m making progress. It was actually going pretty quick till I dug out a load of old photos. Kinda got lost in them for a while, and then I just… I needed to get out.”

“Lotta memories.”

“So many.”

“Good or bad?” He wasn’t bothering to hide the fact that he was watching her now, taking note of her reactions, trying to get a read on her.

“Mostly good,” she admitted. “We were happy when I was a kid. Sometimes it’s too easy to forget that.”

“Must make it harder though, to have it an’ lose it.”

“It does.” She sniffed, turning away from him so she could force back the tears that never seemed to be too far away these days. “Makes me wonder how it all went so wrong, what it would have been like if Dad hadn’t… Well, y’know.”

“Mmm.” Finished with his sandwich, he balled up the bag and tossed it over his head, clearing the cab to land in the bed of the truck, before reaching for his coffee once again.

“What about you? You have good memories?”

“Nah.” He shook his head, avoiding her eyes as he took a swig of his drink. “I mean, maybe with my brother. We had some good times. But my folks… Mom was depressed. Weren’t her fault. She just wasn’t cut out to raise a family. An’ my dad… Well, ya know what he was. Weren’t no turnin’ point with them. They were just always that way.”

“I’m sorry.” Tabby sighed. “I’m not really sure what’s worse.”

“S’all bullshit,” he decided, and she could only nod in agreement. “S’about not lettin’ it hold ya back, s’all. Ya got out, right? Made a life for yerself? S’all that matters.”

“Right, yeah,” she scoffed. “I guess it probably does look like that.”

“It ain’t like that?”

“Not so much.” She laughed, but she could hear for herself how harsh it sounded, lacking any sort of real humour. “My life… It’s a mess, really. You have no idea.”

“Ya wanna talk about it?” Daryl’s gaze was locked on hers, intense, and for a moment she did, she really did. She wanted to pour her heart out and let him figure out where it all went wrong, and maybe offer some solutions that she just couldn’t see from where she stood in the middle of it all, but, right now, he seemed to think that she was better somehow than she was, stronger, and she desperately didn’t want to ruin that illusion.

“I’m okay,” she said finally, draining the rest of her coffee before slipping back to the ground. “I should let you get back to work anyway.”

“How about tonight?”

“What do you mean?”

“Could go for a drink when I’m done here, ‘fore I take ya home.” He slid to the ground beside her, rubbing at the back of his neck as if waiting for her to shoot him down. “Only if ya want.”

“Yeah, that’d… That’d be nice.”

“Alright then.”

He turned to walk away, and she gathered up the rubbish still left on the hood and did the same, heading back across the yard towards the exit.

“Hey, Tab!” The sound of her name had her spinning round on her heels to see Daryl paused outside of the workshop, one hand shielding his eyes from the sun. “Thanks for lunch.”

She smiled all the way back to the house.

*****

“I ordered the part for yer car. Should be in tomorrow.”

The bar was busy, being the only one in town, the buzz of conversation drowning out the music that blasted from the jukebox at the back. Daryl had led Tabby through the throng, guiding her into a booth against the far wall and taking her order, before heading into the crowd to get their drinks. When he’d returned, sliding a beer towards her and taking a sip from his own, he’d been quick to update her on the status of her repair.

“Thanks.” She clinked her bottle against his before taking a drink, letting the cool liquid wash away the tensions of the day. “That was fast.”

“Yer lucky. Part was one that ain’t changed much in the newer models. Ain’t cheap though.”

“Perfect.” She could feel the tightness of her smile. She had her savings, she knew; it wasn’t that she couldn’t afford it. But, at this point in time, she had no clue how long she needed to make that money last, and it would certainly deplete her options if she burned through it too fast.

Daryl obviously sensed her distress, ducking his head to catch her attention as she fretted. “Hey, if s’a problem, I can do the work outta hours. Rick won’t charge ya labour that way.”

“No, no, it’s fine, honestly. I have the money. I just… I don’t actually have a job right now, so I’m just trying to watch my spending, but I’ll pay you for your work.”

“Tab-”

“No, Daryl.” She swallowed hard, reaching out a hand to cover his where it rested on the table, feeling him flinch slightly at her touch. “I appreciate it, I really do, but I’m kinda trying this thing where I stand on my own two feet, and taking advantage of you being a nice guy really flies in the face of that. So, let me pay, please?”

“Alright.” He nodded, glancing around before he spoke again. “So, yer not workin’? What were ya doin’ before?”

“Nothing special.” Tabby shrugged. “I was working as an assistant to the CEO of a marketing firm in the city.”

“Fancy. Ya din’t like it?”

“Oh, no, I did.” She paused, remembering her despair when they’d told her to pack her things and shown her the door. It had felt like such a kick in the teeth, and yet she’d known it was coming. The trouble with big companies was that policy dictated everything, and that had eventually been her downfall. “Loved it, actually, and I was good at it.”

“So, what happened?”

“Had to take too many sick days,” she admitted. “Triggered an HR investigation, and I had no doctor’s notes or anything, so they let me go.” She could feel the next question hovering on the tip of Daryl’s tongue, but she couldn’t talk about it, not yet, so she cut in, steering the conversation away. “Hey, you know of any work going in town?”

“Really?” He looked surprised, and she had to admit that she’d shocked herself a little. But it seemed like the best option right now, so she waited while he collected himself, cogs whirring in his mind. “Carol’s place on the other side’a town, y’know, the diner? She’s lookin’ for waitresses, last I heard. An’ they always want bar staff in here.” He picked at the label on his beer bottle, peeling the damp paper away from the glass. “S’not what yer used to.”

“I’ll take anything.” And she would, she realised. Anything was preferable to having to crawl back to the city with her tail between her legs. “I’ll ask once I’m back on the road. Thanks.”

“So, yer stickin’ around then?”

“Yeah.” His face lit up, the constant crease between his eyes lessening as he grinned at her, and he looked younger in that moment, and handsome with the sparkling blue of his irises and the crooked slant of his lips. “Yeah, I think I am.”

*****

Tabby’s vision swam as she slid from Daryl’s truck, stumbling a little when her feet hit the ground, the effect of the beers on her system making her giggle at her own clumsiness, and he was there, catching her before she fell, strong hands gripping her hips.

“Careful, Tab. I got ya.”

She hadn’t meant to get drunk, that hadn’t been the intention at all, and Daryl had stopped after a couple of beers, knowing that he would have to get behind the wheel to drive her home. But it had felt good to let her hair down. She didn’t drink often, afraid that it would become a crutch, that she would end up like her mom, but, after a few weeks that had been fraught with stress, she’d needed something to take the edge off. Plus, she’d felt safe with Daryl, like she could let herself go without putting herself at risk, of danger or of judgement, so she’d indulged and was now wobbling precariously as he guided up her the front steps of the cabin, waiting patiently as she dug through her bag for her keys.

“Here, let me.” Warm fingers brushed over hers as he took the cabin key from her, keeping one arm tight around her waist as he slid it into the lock and pushed open the door. “C’mon now.”

He didn’t let go of her until she’d slumped onto the couch, letting her eyes flicker closed as she sank into the cushions, stooping to fumble blindly with her boots and kicking them off as Daryl disappeared for a moment. By the time he returned, with a glass of water which he instructed her to drink, she was barefoot and had curled her legs up beneath her, making herself more comfortable. Seeming to know that she wouldn’t be making it to her bed once he’d gone, Daryl dragged the throw over her, tucking it round her as she sighed contentedly and nestled into the warmth of the wool.

“I’mma head out. Ya gonna be okay?”

She nodded, though she reached out a hand to fist at his shirt, catching him off guard when she dragged him down towards her. Her lips brushed against the rough scruff of his cheek, and she felt it grow hotter before she released him, her eyes drifting shut once more. “Thank you, Daryl.”

“Get some rest, girl.”

“Mmm, goodnight.”

*****

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#twd #the walking dead #twd fanfiction #the walking dead fanfiction #daryl dixon #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon x ofc #daryl dixon x oc #broken

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malereader-inserts · 5 years ago

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Power Move

Fandom: Gotham Pairing: General & Male!Reader Summary: There’s a power move in Gotham that everyone is willing to find, luckily, you know how to hide and hide well. Word Count: 1,856 Request: “Can you do one for all of Gotham and one for Jim Gordon and Edward Nygma? “ A/n: I will be doing Jim and Edward request later, don’t worry I haven’t forgotten!

“Who in the god’s name is (Y/n) (L/n)?”

Nathaniel Barnes slams the Newspaper onto Bullock’s desk as Jim looks over his partner’s shoulder, reading the headlines.

“Innocent kid that got sucked in the world of crime since he’s got no family left,” Harvey read, “I mean he’s barely legal, seventeen and he’s the key, the power that people like Cobblepot, Kean or even Tetch would want, hell, even Valeska if he was alive.”

“Do we know where he is?” Jim asked as he recognised you, of course, he does.

You’re his sister’s only child. Her pride and joy and before he was deployed he was the greatest uncle a kid could have, to quote you. Then, years past by and he hadn’t heard a word. Though, he felt guilty, not once had it cross his mind to even to attempt to contact or find where you were.

He didn’t even know you had become orphaned. His sister, dead, this was the first time he was hearing this. He though his sister and the family moved away to get away from Gotham. He wouldn’t blame her, all she ever wanted to do was to protect you.

“Nope, last seen like a year ago,” Harvey informed, “No one knows where his base is, so it’s a race to get to him.”

Jim hummed as he sat down at his desk, “Well, what are we going to do? There is no possible way we can find him, Gotham is a big city and with no leads - he could be anywhere.”

“We need to find that kid and protect him,” Barnes stressed out as he rubbed his temple, “I will bring hell to Gotham if any of those slimy bastard get a hand on him.”

Jim agrees but he knows that it won’t be Barnes getting a hold of you, it will be him and he will ruin anyone like Oswald or Barbara get a hand on his nephew. Barnes stalked away to his office as Harvey sighs, leaning back on his seat, reclining it slightly.

“You know, Penguin has the upper hand as of now, he’s got capos, spies and hitmen around Gotham. Not to mention he has the freaks on his side.”

“But, Nygma’s plan to eliminate Oswald might be greater than his hunt for (Y/n),” Jim theorized, “Get Nygma to take out Oswald, that’s one less.”

“True, but, Tetch might be in Arkham, but there is no doubt that he would have hypnotised some innocents to find (Y/n).”

Jim runs his hand through his hair, he wonders where he can find you without Barnes or Harvey finding out.

“I have to find him.”

Oswald smacks down the newspaper onto his desk as he leans against the desk with his fist. Victor raised his non-existing eyebrow as Oswald takes a heavy sigh to calm himself down. Oswald stands up straight as he tugs down on his suit jacket and pulls down the sleeves, staring at the hitman and the red hair woman.

“No offence, boss, but the boy hasn’t been seen for a whole year and just now he reappears, that picture is barely looking like him!” Victor inputted as Oswald closed his eyes before opening them.

He knows Victor was right and he was losing options in a way to take back Gotham’s underworld. All he needed was Barbara Kean and Edward Nygma out the picture and he can be the crime kingpin he has been trying to get back.

But, that move required a power move in this intricate game. He needed you, he doesn’t remember much of you since he’s spilt with Fish or Sal but he does remember you wandering into Fish’s bar with a sly grin at the age of thirteen. He’s watched you in and out until you disappeared when you were sixteen.

Victor was well acquainted with you, you often visited the Falcone Mansion out of Gotham. You had a charming smile and battered your eyelashes to get your way. He admired your courage to play with fire, but he was impressed that you can make a small bonfire spread to cause a city to burn. You were manipulative, a liar and you knew exactly what game you’re playing.

If anything, Victor knows you will not be owned. You will not be restrained. You will pick your players, your opponents and Gotham is the battlefield. You’ll string along new sets of people to run your Gotham. Last time it was Falcone, Mooney and Sal. All he knows, your limit to string people in unknown - he won’t be surprised that you’ll play five, ten people, just for your personal gain.

He has to give credit when it’s due.

Admittedly, he was afraid of what you can do and what you can become when you grow older.

“I know, Zsasz, but what else are we going to do?”

“We still have Bridget and other Victor-” Ivy interrupted as Oswald flickered his eyes to her, “They’re much powerful against Nygma and the rest.”

“I guess so, but that doesn’t find us a way to find (Y/n), we have no one to look for them,” Oswald pursed his lips as he flops onto his chair, “Victor and the Zsaszettes cannot scour out through the whole of Gotham - this city is too big.”

Victor and Ivy give each other a glance, Oswald was right, them two were as desperate to find you. Oswald knew that he wasn’t the only person who would look for you, he knew that his competition was just as determined to find you and also be careful that the GCPD is going to put you in protection.

“Well, what do we do?”

“I’m confused, why is this kid so important?”

Edward sat awkwardly between Barbara and Butch, his eyebrows furrowed and his glasses halfway down the bridge of his nose. Barbara shrugged her shoulders as Tabitha looked confused.

Edward was still getting into grips of his new criminal agenda so he hasn’t been able to read a book of the history of criminal lords of Gotham. All he knows from news outlet on the television that you have been recently spotted and suddenly Gotham is under a blanket of uneasiness. When the four of them were watching the television and your picture had appeared on the news.

The first thing that Ed thought was you were young and could shift Gotham into a riot. The second thing was that he needed you on his team.

Barbara watched interest, there was a feeling of somewhat familiarity. There was a spark in your eyes that felt nostalgic to her and that smile in your picture was similar to someone she had once associated herself with.

“This kid is important because he’s the only one that strung Falcone, Fish and Sal all at once to play his little game. He controlled Gotham through them, making them fight and have them gun down each other as mere entertainment for the kid. He was thirteen when he started,” Butch informed, heaving a heavy breath, “That kid can snap his fingers and the whole of Gotham will bend to his will.”

“It’s his eyes,” Barbara looked at the paused screen, squinting, “There’s something about it that I know of.”

“So, you’re saying that he’s dangerous?” Tabitha wondered, “He’s a kid, a boy, barely an adult - those eyes? Innocent.”

“That’s what makes him the best.”

The four turned to look at the television as Tabitha unpaused the screen. The spokeswoman genuinely looked fearful, paranoid as she wasn’t in the comfort of the news building - afraid you’ll be out to hijack the news outlet for your amusement.

“And he’s what we need to take down Oswald?” Edward asked, there was excitement in his tone, “Then we better start looking for him.”

“It won’t be easy.”

“I do love a good riddle!”

“I’m taking an hour personal leave,” Jim grabs his jacket as Harvey almost splits his coffee all over him, “I’m going to pay my respects to my sister.”

“You have a sister?” Harvey asked as he stood up, watching his friend swing his coat on himself, “Sorry, I mean, do you want me to come with?”

Jim fixes the collar of his coat, sighing, he shakes his head, “No, I’ll be good, thanks for the offer though.”

Harvey tightens his lips has he pats Jim on the shoulder, “Alright, I’ll see you later.”

Gotham’s weather was a drab, always grey skies and barely any sunlight. It’s constantly cold, it’ll be a miracle if there was a heatwave. Raining a lot, so it was no surprise that Jim was driving in the rain. Parking the car outside the gate, he takes a moment to himself, he holds a lot of regret and guilt on his shoulders.

He should have written to you more, he should have put you at the top of his priority list. The rain was slowly subsiding when he decides to get out of the car. He doesn’t know where to start to look for his sister other than walking to his dad’s grave.

He clutches the last minute flowers in his hands as he nervously looks for his sister’s name. He doesn't know what he was expecting other as he finally stops when he finds what he was looking for.

Jim lets out a shaky breath as he reads the stone. His eyes lingering on the date of death. He kneels and finds to see fresh flowers resting against the stone. Hesitantly placing his next to it, he leans his right hand against the stone.

“I’m gonna find him, sis, I’m going to look after (Y/n).”

He stands up straight as he noticed someone else on his left, he spares a glance once then looking away before his mind processed what he had seen. Snapping his head back he meets your eyes.

“Uncle Jim?”

“(Y/n)?”

You smiled brightly as you practically slammed into him for a hug. Jim stumbles back but there was a chuckle, as he wraps his arms tightly around you. Afraid that you would slip away or this one horrible nightmare.

Slowly parting ways but your hands still gripping the under of his upper arms, Jim looked relieved to see you. You grew taller, perhaps taller than him.

“You’re looking like a man, not that little boy I used to see.”

“Time changes people,” You shrugged.

Jim looks back at the grave before looking back at you, “I’m so sorry, (Y/n), I didn’t know - I should have looked for you when came back.”

“Uncle Jim, it’s fine, I’ve got you now,” You smiled softly with innocent eyes gleaming back him, “I found family!”

“Yeah,” Jim sighs out happily, “You’ve got me now.”

He engulfs you into a hug again as you dropped your smile into his shoulders. Those innocent eyes looked bored as you rolled your eyes at his happiness. However, the facade returned when you once again parted the hug.

Everything was running as it is supposed to be.

You have your first puppet, now, you cannot wait to watch the city burn and point fingers.

#Gotham #gotham imagine #gotham x male reader #x male reader

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horizonboundtrainer · 5 years ago

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Random disorganized thoughts on what happened during my version of the delta episode:

Nobody's been quite the same since zinnia tried to pull a fast one on hoenn

Seeing her family and friends directly attacked by Zinnia really fucked her up ( And being forced to decide who she can afford to protect? Even moreso ) It's definitely part of why she's such a self isolating idiot. And refuses to let her closest friends get involved in conflicts ( regardless of how capable they actually are )

Courtney set up a hostage situation in the Devon building to split the league's forces. May being thrown out of the window was a hail mary after the situation in Rustboro goes FUBAR. Magma prepared the defenses for holding off and ensnaring Steven when he rushes in to save his grandfather. May survived. Tabitha's replacement didn't. ( There wasn't enough left of the poor man to fill a jar after what Alice did to him )

Alice's behavior... changed after the Devon incident. She's got a degree of ruthlessness that wasn't there previously ( which freaks even Metagross out )

Kira became even strangely reluctant to leave May's side and a bit overprotective of allies

Aeon ended up with a minor case of anxiety that nobody's equiped to treat

Sig's always been a bit of a kleptomaniac prankster but nowhere to the ( delusional ) extent he is now. It's partially to keep up morale ( after all, what good is doing anything if you can't have a good laugh while at it? ) and partially a coping mechanism for all the things he can't control.

Archie sends Wally and Brendan to Sea Mauville to collect a few pieces of data for fine tuning the dimensional shifter. They open the path that May follows when she heads there months later. Good thing they didn't have the time to piece together it's history like May did because what happened there would've put a dent in anyone's faith in the league ( and Deven of course for building the accursed place )

Twigs split off from May to help Watson and Flannery take New Mauville from Matt

Twigs gained a tendency to go off on his own to try and take the load off May's back... Which either goes extremely well because their enemies are forced to fight two forces at once or backfires horribly

May and Matt were close friends after facing off against Magma together. Zinnia's a bit more of a casual friend who gave her a few tips on coping with grief and spirituality... and Bagon care. ( The thing with May though? She gets attached very quickly and Zinnia's the same ) Being betrayed by two friends in quick succession wounded May deeply on a level even she's unaware of

May picks up her spear while digging through a deceased Lorekeeper's burial cairn for meteorite shards. She doesn't want to know why the spear seemed to call to her. Or why the weight feels at home in her hands even if she could barely lift it at the time.

The whole Rayquaza mess only really exacerbated her existing issues. She's still looking for an way out of her oaths that doesn't end with the two of them dead

Her opinion of Wallace? At rock bottom after being useless at best and an obstacle at worse for 2.5 entire crisises... It sucks to be a Lawful Good person in a world gone mad!

Watson and Roxanne gained quite a bit of respect with how they handled the situation

Hoopa's an asshole who still doesn't understand why May hates it for providing a "few" entertaining duels to the death. After all, what's an opera without a grand stage and great beasts to showcase the hero's might? It gets along well with Sig and Windy for some reason

#the delta episode fucked her up on so many levels jdkfndkdoro #trainer id #maybe I'll organize these someday #Or maybe I won't

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loveforpreserumsteve · 5 years ago

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Home for the Holidays: Bonus “CIWYW” Story (Trans!Steve and Pan!Bucky Modern AU)

Five:

"Where are my pencils?" Winifred called out from the office-meet-guest room.

From the island bar counter, Steve shoveled a perfected loukoumas into his mouth and glanced over to the modest circle table in the breakfast nook. Eddie and Tibby were off in their own little world as they excitedly chattered about the events lined up for the day. In their syrupy sticky hands, they held expensive, professional colored pencils.

Exiting the guest room, Winifred questioned from the foyer, "Darlene, didn't I pack them?"

"Which pencils?" Darlene called from the stove where she expertly removed more loukoumades from the oil, placing the fluffy golden puffs of fried dough on a plate of paper towels and instructing Joseph on how to create more.

"The --" Winifred cut herself off, pausing behind the island while her gaze was fixated on the youngest members of the families. Closing her eyes, she took in a deep breath to calm herself before asking, "Tibby? Sweetie? What did I tell you about going through other people's things?"

"I didn't," Tibby easily answered while keeping her attention on her drawing.

Winifred pinched the bridge of her nose, "Tabitha Eugenia, what have we told you about lying?"

"I'm not lying!" Tibby defended herself, furrowing her face in offense as she finally turned her attention from her messy, sticky drawing to Winifred. To make her case, Tibby pointed her thumb in Eddie's direction, "He did!"

Eddie had been casually drawing with his tongue poking out in his concentration. But as soon as Tibby accused him, he slurped his tongue back into his mouth and angrily looked over at his new friend, "Hey!"

Sarah moved from her station at the counter where she was making more of the special syrup and placed her hand on her hip as she asked Eddie, "Did you?"

"No!" Eddie replied and pointed at Tibby, "She said that it was her bag."

Turning to look at Winifred, Sarah apologized, "I'm so sorry. I thought they were Steve's."

"You what?" Steve questioned, quirking a brow. He had a sneaky suspicion that Eddie had been using his color pencils without him knowing, but it had only been a suspicion. Until now. Steve shook his head and muttered, "Maybe I'll just move to Arkansas."

Playfully Sarah rolled her eyes. While Sarah and Winifred crossed the kitchen to the table to gather the colored pencils and clean them off, Bucky leaned close to Steve and softly suggested, "Maybe you should."

Heart stuttering in his chest, Steve glanced to the boy beside him. That slow grin that Steve loved stretched at Bucky's mouth, and Steve challenged, "Maybe I will."

Bucky's grin grew even more, but before he could say anything, the doorbell rang. A rapid: ding-dong, ding-dong, ding-ding-ding-ding-dong rang throughout the house. Sam quirked a brow as he paused in eating his loukoumades, and the other Barnes' members looked around. The Rogers were used to it though, and none of them made a move to get the door.

Of course, the Rogers were used to it. Especially when a loud, raspy familiar voice called out, "Holy baby Jesus, whatever you're cooking, smells fucking glorious!"

"Language, Nattie," Joseph warned like he always did.

"I know, I know," Natasha appeased while playfully rolling her eyes and hugging the father she wished she had. When she pulled back, she touched her own chin and complimented Joseph, "The beard is turning out nicely."

"Ya think?" Joseph perked, running his hand over his salt-and-pepper closely trimmed beard.

"Don't encourage him," Sarah joked, washing the color pencils from the syrup fingerprints. Winking over her shoulder, she teased, "We've been through this."

"Right," Natasha tapped her nose the way that they would when they played charades before hugging her cousins.

When Mandy and Becca took too long with their hugs, Sam loudly, playfully complained, "Stop hogging, Nattie! I was her cousin first!"

"Technically, I was," Bucky argued, finishing his coffee.

"Technically, I was," Sam mocked before clarifying, "By seven minutes."

"Yeah, technically," Natasha agreed. Once Sam let go, Natasha opened her arms wide and demanded Bucky, "Now get off your ass-paragus loving butt and come hug me!"

"Nice save," Steve mocked and smiled at the two as they hugged. Letting go of each other, Bucky returned to his stool beside Steve and Natasha took a step towards Steve. Arms outstretched, Natasha stood in front of him. Feigning confusion, Steve teased, "What do you want? I see you, like, every day."

"Ouch," Natasha pretended to be hurt and dramatically touched her chest over her heart, "That hurt, Steve. That hurt real bad."

"You're ridiculous," Steve good-humoredly scoffed and pulled Natasha in for a hug.

Resting her chin on Steve's shoulders, Natasha whispered, "You drop the, 'L-word,' yet?"

"No," Steve shushed her and poked her side in hopes of keeping her quiet. Nervously giving Bucky a sideways glance as he hoped that Bucky didn't hear his cousin. Especially when it was supposed to be a secret.

"Calm down," Natasha reassured and kissed Steve's cheek. Pulling away from Steve, Natasha mussed his floppy blond hair. Theatrically checking him out, she mused, "Damn, Stevie, you sure do make a girl wanna love a boy."

Internally cringing, Steve shook his head and sat back down on his stool. Turning around to face the counter again, he went to drink his coffee only for him to remember that he drank it all already. Slumping in his spot a bit, Steve considered getting up and making himself another cup. Only, Natasha took a seat on Bucky's other side. And although Steve trusted Natasha with his life, he sure as hell didn't trust her with Bucky. Especially not with that smug smirk on her face.

"You know," Natasha started, leaning close to Bucky, but keeping her gaze on Steve, "I think you might need another cup of coffee. Don't want ya grumpy while we're skating."

"I'm not going to be grumpy," Steve argued.

"He said grumpily," Joseph teased, leaning against the counter as he popped a loukoumas. Only, it must have been hot because he comically opened his mouth as though he was trying to suck in air to cool off the mouthful of freshly made puff ball.

"Serves you right," Steve laughed. Joseph playfully narrowed his eyes at him while Steve childishly stuck his tongue out in reply.

"What was that about you not being grumpy?" Natasha cocked her head to the side as she feigned confusion.

To that, Steve childishly stuck his tongue out at her too. Which only caused a childish war as Natasha mutely retorted by sticking her own tongue out. Leaning further into Bucky's space, Steve stuck his tongue out again at his best friend. So, Natasha mimicked Steve's movement and did the same.

The closer the pair moved towards each other, the further Bucky leaned away. Finally climbing off his stool, Bucky crossed the room to the coffee maker, causing Steve to pause. Brows furrowing, Steve watched as Bucky started brewing a new pot. And once Bucky turned back around to face them, Steve silently questioned him.

"I haven't had enough caffeine to continuously fall on the ice," Bucky reasoned, reached over the island counter for his mug. Reaching for Steve's too, he paused and asked, "Want a refill?"

Narrowing his eyes, Steve studied him for a moment. It all seemed too convenient for Bucky to just want more coffee. However, Steve wasn't about to turn down another mug, so he slumped in his seat and nodded. Of course, Bucky simply smiled that favorite grin of Steve's, making him want to grab ahold of Bucky's soft green sweater and pull him close so he could kiss him. And for a moment, Steve was sure that Bucky wanted to do the same when he tenderly brushed his fingers against Steve's as they exchanged the mug.

Then, the speaker interrupted the Six13 Hanukkah classic, Chanukah (Shake It Off), with the starting of a new song. Steve's brows furrowed, as did the others in the room. Well, except for Nat. As the familiar tinkling music started, Steve's mind tried to place the tune. Luckily -- Steve supposed -- it didn't take him long when a young Mandy Moore sang, "I'm so addicted to the loving that you're feeding to me (ohhh)."

That was all it took for Steve to glare daggers at Natasha while Sarah excitedly sang along, "Can't do without it, this feeling's got me weak in the knees," completely missing out on the point of Natasha playing the song in her nostalgia.

All the while, Steve knew exactly what Natasha was doing and he was sure that anyone else who wasn't on the nostalgia train. That instantly excluded the parents, however, as Winifred and Darlene danced around the kitchen as Joseph and Sarah who picked up spatulas and sang along. Immediately, that made the youngest members jump up from their seats at the table to join their parents.

Steve simply shook his head and hoped that Bucky wouldn't catch on. Judging by the blush on his handsome face though, Steve knew that Bucky knew. And Steve wished that the ground below him would open up and swallow him whole. Only…

On closer inspection, Bucky didn't look embarrassed for Steve, he just looked plain embarrassed. From his seat at the island, Steve tried to catch Bucky's gaze. When he finally did, it wasn't for long. Quickly, Bucky bashfully adverted his gaze. And wasn't that just the oddest thing considering Natasha was teasing him, not Bucky.

#call it what you want #home for the holidays #bonus #stucky #steve rogers #transsteve #bucky barnes #panbucky #marvel #fanfic #wattpad #ao3 #modern au #holiday au #ho ho holidays #happy holidays #tis the season #fa la la la love

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everlarkficexchange · 6 years ago

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Unmasked ~ Seven

Written by: ~ M ~

Prompt #88

Rating: E (Explicit) This fic will contain consensual sexual content; mild language; discussions of injuries, illness, and amputations in a historical setting; discussions of miscarriage; discussions of minor character suicide; references to non consensual sexual situations.

My thanks to the moderators of @everlarkficexchange for always running an entertaining event, and for playing along with a little fun and mystery. Please enjoy the seventh chapter of this adventure. Previous installments can be found here. Regards,

~ M ~

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

~~ Chapter 7 ~~

I wake eager to start the day with a list of tasks to accomplish. Having slept late after our late night of revelry, I haven’t as much time as I would like. I prepare in my head the things I wish to discuss with Robert. There is the obvious issue of my home and my need to return soon, but there is also the matter of Peeta.

After much thinking, I have determined that perhaps I have not been as kind to Peeta as I ought. He did help me that day in the rain, and he means a great deal to Robert, perhaps as much as Prim means to me. I cannot fathom severing their bonds as brothers and add making amends with Peeta to my list of tasks needing my attention.

Only, there is no word from Sir Robert. No love letters or sonnets. No pink roses waiting for me at the breakfast table and no cards announcing a visit, at least not any from the man I kissed last night.

The longer the day stretches with no word from him, the more agitated I become, especially given the looks of concern Madge continues to send me throughout the day. Effie begins the day with a wide smile, but by the end she is more distraught than I. Before the effernoon of visitors even ends, she retreats to her room to nurse a headache and leaves the remainder of the entertaining to Madge and I. I find myself in the awkward position of chaperoning a visit from three different gentlemen… who clearly have come to see Madge, not I. Technically I am not supposed to chaperone as I have never been married, but since I allowed a man to kiss me and half undress me in the gardens last night, I suppose it is apparent that I do not much care for technicalities and propriety anyways.

Uncle Haymitch joins us for dinner, adding another face of concern. It is more than I can stand.

“Perhaps he drank too much and was recovering today,” Effie suggests in a whisper and I bow my head, unable to tell them that if that is the case, then he went elsewhere to drink after the ball. He was perfectly sober when he left me in the gardens. “Tell me again everything that he said.”

I sigh and give Effie the highly redacted version of my night that I gave her less than an hour ago.

“There must be a reason,” she insists. “If there is no word tomorrow, Haymitch will pay a visit to him. Or to the Marquis!”

“I will not go see the Marquis unless it is to greet him at the gates of hell.”

“Honestly Haymitch, I do not know what your issue is with the man, but you must set it aside for the sake of our niece!”

“Madame. I warned you not to tangle with that family,” he snarls at her and stands, squeezing my shoulder once before leaving the dining room. Effie huffs and I can barely summon the energy to wonder at his words. Whatever his reasoning for not wanting me to pursue Sir Robert, it appears that perhaps he was right.

The sun sets and then another day passes. That is all the pouting I allow myself. I need to return home. I long for it in a way I cannot describe, but I cannot leave the city with no resolution betwixt me and my betrothed. I resolve to not sit on my haunches. With Madge fast asleep, I light a candle and pen a note to Sir Robert.

As the ink dries, I read through my words and scowl. That won’t do. I sound angry and petulant. I crumple it up and throw it in the grate, gnashing my teeth to release the anger into the air and not into my missive to him.

The next is discarded for sounding too lovesick. Another for containing one too many complaints. Another comes out accusatory and while I think it justified, the words may not inspire much passion on his part.

It is early in the morning when I throw away my tenth attempt and climb into bed, defeated. I have no idea how to pen a decent love letter. I shall simply have to throw another convention to the winds and visit him myself tomorrow.

My sleep is terrible as I spend the rest of the night reliving our time at the masquerade, searching for clues and only confusing myself more. All those beautiful things he said about dancing a thousand dances on a broken leg for me and he can’t even be bothered to send a note.

Perhaps he has fallen ill. As awful a person as it makes me for even thinking it, I hope that this is the case. It is uncharitable of me, yes but it is a decent explanation that satisfies my vanity and gives me the courage to brave the world in the morning.

I know that I still look ghastly when I finally make it downstairs, seeking food and nothing more, only to be accosted by Aunt Effie in a fit of screams.

“Look, my darling, darling girl!” She shoves a newspaper at me and hurries up the stairs. “I am going to wake Haymitch! He needs to see this! I knew that young man would turn up! He is besotted with you, after all!”

I glance half hearted at the newspaper and the words in the weekly society pages that have Effie so elated.

“Katniss! Go put on a different dress! That one is making your complexion look sallow. You cannot greet the Marquis or Sir Robert thus!”

“The Marquis is visiting today?” Madge asks as she emerges from the library with a book in her hands and a hopeful smile on her face.

“No card yet, but an engagement announcement in the papers! He cannot ignore you now!”

I shove the papers at Madge and walk into the breakfast room, loading a plate to overflowing as she reads the words aloud, announcing to the world that a Miss Katniss Everdeen of Southeastern Panem, daughter of Mr. Kent Everdeen and his wife Mrs. Elise Everdeen, shall soon wed Sir Robert K. Mellark, third son of the Marquis and Marchioness de Vale, Lord Reginald and his wife, Lady Tabitha Mellark.

“This is good news!” she says as I drop my plate on the table with an unladylike amount of vigour and noise.

“I do not understand it.”

“It was only two days without word, perhaps he was seeing to the papers and license,” Madge soothes and takes my hand in hers.

“Not even a note? No word for days, Madge.”

“You disturb my sleep for this?” Haymitch shouts.

“Tell your niece to put on the blue dress. It brings out her eyes and she won’t listen to me this morning! She must look her best today!”

I groan and stand to pour myself some coffee. I do not usually drink the stuff, but I think I might need it today.

“Katniss, sweetheart, if you have an ounce of affection for me, you will do as your aunt says so that she stops harping at me about something as trivial as the shade of your dress!”

Before a decent argument begins, there is a knock at the door.

“Oh! That will be Matilda. She will have seen the announcement!”

Chaos ensues as Effie attempts to push me up the stairs to change, before I am done with my breakfast.

“I do not need to see Matilda. She is your friend.”

“She will want to see the bride to be! I do not often get the chance to gloat and show you off, darling!” Effie gushes and Haymitch attempts to use a silver platter as a mirror to tie his cravat. “Margaret! A little help.”

“At least let her finish her toast, Aunt Effie.”

“Ahem.” We all turn to stare at the butler as he bows. “I beg your pardon. The Marquis de Vale and a Mr. Peeta Mellark await you in the study, Mr. Abernathy.”

“The study?”

“Peeta?”

“Not Sir Robert?”

The butler’s head swivels between the three of us ladies and finally settles on looking at Haymitch.

“They wish an audience with Mr. Abernathy and Miss Everdeen.”

“Not in the parlor?” Effie squeaks and Haymitch sets his hands on her shoulders. “That is not sociable at all. What is going on, Haymitch?”

“Compose yourself and let us deal with this. Take no visitors until we return. Not even Matilda.”

“But Haymitch!”

“Not one visitor, Madame. Katniss, come with me and hope you do not regret listening to your aunt’s courtship advice.”

I wipe my hands clean and then rub my palms on my skirt. They’ve begun to sweat horribly. Haymitch leads me to the study and opens the door for me. I walk in with as much dignity as my churning stomach allows.

Peeta paces the carpet and a man I can only assume is the Marquis stands in front of the window, staring out on the world with his hands folded behind his back. There is a third man I do not recognize, seated and paging through a stack of papers.

“Miss Everdeen,” Peeta says and takes two steps towards me before his father coughs in an annoying manner and Peeta halts. I stare at him as he bows to me, slow and sedate. “Good morning.”

“Abernathy,” the Marquis says and I turn slightly to examine the father.

Good lord, there’s more of them.

I almost blurt the words out as my eyes dart from one Mellark to the other. If Peeta and Robert look as though they could be twins, despite their difference in age, there is no denying that the man who turns from the window to examine me is most definitely their father. I feel as though I could be looking at one of the brothers forty years from now, with lightened hair at the temples and grooves carved into his face.

Peeta’s lips curl up on one side in a wry smile at my reaction, as though echoing Robert’s words from the other night. Impossible to deny, given the physical similarities. I almost laugh, but manage to contain what I am sure would be a crazed sound.

“Mellark,” Haymitch says and I swear I can hear Effie fainting upstairs at the subtle snub in not using his title. It stuns even me, although the Marquis does not even blink at it.

“It has been some time.”

“Not long enough.”

“Indeed.”

“To what do we owe the honour of your visit?”

“Cease the act, Abernathy. There was an engagement announcement in the papers today and we need to sort it out before it gets out of hand.”

“What is to sort? The announcement is true,” I say and the Marquis arches a brow at me, the lines on his face deepening with his scowl.

“Is it now?”

“Your son Robert proposed to my niece three days ago,” Haymitch says, stepping protectively between myself and the Marquis. The protective gesture annoys me.

“He did not,” the Marquis proclaims confidently.

For some reason, my eyes jump to Peeta. Anger leaps high in me at how he stands there, silent. Surely Robert told him? But no defence is forthcoming from the bastard as the father continues.

“My son,” he sighs deeply and sinks into the chair behind Haymitch’s desk. “Has made a number of costly and foolish choices recently, but proposing to this bit of fluff cannot be one of them. Furthermore, it is most vicious of your family to run this announcement without my approval.”

Anger and indignation rise in me, burning hot as the insinuations sink in.

“We did not run the announcement!”

“And yet here it is in print.”

“Robert must have–” my words are cut short by a solid hand slamming on the desk. I flinch and glance nervously at Peeta to see if the noise had any affect on him at all. He remains a stone wall, unresponsive, just like his horse. But now that I am getting a good look at him, I see that he appears as awful as I feel. Dark circles ring his eyes and his skin appears pale, unnourished.

Something dreadful has happened.

“Robert could not,” the Marquis insists, his face turning purple as he seems to be stumbling through his words, starting half a dozen sentences and failing to complete them before Peeta finally speaks.

“Robert is gone.”

In the silence that follows, we listen to the ticking clock in the corner and the third man coughs.

“Gone? Gone how?” I ask, thinking a hundred horrible thoughts of him dead along a roadside, murdered by a highwayman, killed by an overturned carriage, lost to a fever. Perhaps it is cruel of me, but in the moment, death would be welcome to the thought that he courted me, kissed me, and then discarded me so carelessly. My stomach sinks as the Marquis sighs.

“That is not for you to reveal, boy.”

“She deserves to know,” Peeta says and stares his father down. “Whether you wish to admit it or not, Robert was, for all appearances, courting her, and there are any number of witnesses to it. She deserves to know.”

For one second, I am struck with the impression of two colliding thunderstorms and then the Marquis relents. “Very well, then. You claim to know the tart, you tell her.”

I gasp at the insult and Haymitch steps forward, but Peeta comes between the two older men, a contrite look on his face.

“May I speak with your niece, Mr. Abernathy?”

“She is standing right there. No need for permission,” the Marquis says. He is lucky his son stands guard because I have half a mind to fetch a weapon and split his skull for his rude behavior.

“Please,” Peeta says softly. Something in his voice draws my attention to him, and I am frozen in place by his pleading gaze. There is pain in his eyes and curiosity gets the better of me. I squeeze my uncle’s arm. Haymitch nods his silent permission and Peeta takes a deep breath before explaining. “He has eloped with someone. My brother Ethan and several others went after him, but they were…”

I stare at him as though he’s speaking another language, unable to believe the words or what they mean for me.

“Too late. He’s already married the trollop and made annulment impossible, God help him,” the Marquis growls and launches into a tirade that I cannot follow. My head swims with the news.

Robert eloped and already married someone else. For an instant, I feel as though my soul separates from my body. I cannot process this news, cannot reconcile it with the events of the masquerade. How could this happen? I saw him only a few days ago and the man I spent the night with at the masquerade seemed enthralled with me. The things he said, the way he kissed me! How could he already have married someone else? I know that Peeta said Robert falls in love easily but who could he have fallen in love with that quickly?

Peeta. Peeta would know with who and how this happened.

I refocus my attention on him. Oddly, he seems to be the only person I can focus on right now as he whispers. “I am…sorry, Miss Everdeen.”

“I have restricted my son and his…wife to remain far from town until this has time to fade out of interest. It would have not been an issue at all were it not for this travesty.” The Marquis lifts the paper and smacks it down on the desk. “You people–”

“Who ran the announcement is of little consequence,” Peeta interrupts and his father glares hotly at him. “The damage is done and the important matter now is repairing it.”

“Indeed,” the third man finally dares to speak, but I’ve no time to ask who he is or why he’s here.

“I do not see how this is our concern. Your boy is the one who ran off and broke the engagement. Katniss has done nothing wrong,” Haymitch says and the Marquis smiles. The expression is repulsive, almost sadistic and I have to force myself not to reach for Haymitch’s hand.

“Do you really wish to test that theory, Abernathy?”

I wait for Haymitch to leap to my defense, to tell this man to go to hell. The silence stretches to unbearable until the Marquis stands and spreads his hands on the desk.

“I thought not. Here is what is to be done. Robert is now married and obviously cannot have two wives. We have an engagement announcement in the papers that will destroy his status as a gentleman if allowed to stand, and I cannot allow that, no matter how beneath his rank he has chosen to wed. Luckily, I still have one unmarried son. A retraction, a correction will run in the society papers next week. I have already submitted it for print, announcing that your…Katrina–”

“Katniss,” Peeta corrects.

“No matter. Announcing that today’s paper contained a mistake and she is to marry Peeta here instead.”

“I will not!” I shout. I have been insulted, accused, and abused this morning. I will not stand for having my life decided for me as well.

“Sweetheart, hush,” Haymitch tries to soothe and I turn my anger on him, glaring daggers that he seems willing to roll over and take orders from this pompous ass.

“My solicitor, Mr. Cameron,” the Marquis waves towards the third man in the room, “has already drawn up the papers. You will sign today and then you and your family will tell every caller to your house of the mistake. Play it for a lark or a joke. An amusing misunderstanding if you must. You will not breathe so much as a word of Robert’s marriage. Tell them whatever they need to hear. Perhaps that your niece fell madly in love with Peeta instead of Robert. There is precedence for that sort of claim to a fickle heart in your family after all.”

Fury contained burns hot in my blood as he speaks. Ruthless, manipulative, cold and demanding. My mother was too kind in her description of him when she only used one of those words. I hate him already and my fingers itch to claw his eyes out before he even delivers the worst of his verdict.

“My son and your niece will be married as soon as feasible. Afterwards, I will announce Robert’s marriage in such a way that it will not seem that his marriage prompted this fiasco, and then this mess will disappear, no permanent harm done,” the Marquis finishes and runs his hands over his waistcoat.

“No permanent harm done?” I take a step towards him with murder in my mind, but Haymitch intercepts.

“I would have a word with my niece,” he says as I struggle to free myself from his grip and not cry in front of these bastards who would decide my life for me.

“Of course. We will wait here.” The Marquis waves his hand, dismissing us and my anger nearly bubbles over into screeching at his treatment of my uncle in his own home, at his cold assurance that he will get exactly his way.

Haymitch drags me down the hall and practically slams me into a wall as my tears break free. “How can you let him speak to you so? How did this happen?”

“Katniss, get ahold of yourself! You’ve gotten embroiled in a scandal with the wrong family, that is what happened. God damnit! I should have listened to my instincts and not Effie’s insistence.”

“Explain now.”

“Twenty-eight years ago, that man in there courted your mother and proposed to her. She refused because she was already in love with someone else, and two days later her engagement to your father appeared in the papers. She was lucky to walk away unscathed. She had no sisters to protect, no obvious weak spots for him to exploit. He had not come into his title yet, he found another poor wretch to marry him instead, and his father was slightly more forgiving. Elise has no idea what she narrowly escaped. You are not going to be so lucky as your mother, Katniss.”

“I won’t marry his bastard son to salvage the reputation of a man who proposed and then reneged! It won’t damage Robert that much anyways! Ha-ha! He realised too late how unsuitable the poor, untitled farmer’s daughter was for him!”

“Sweetheart,” Haymitch shakes his head and his face twists in pain. “I hate this for you as much as you do. But you do not comprehend the danger. Just a word or two, even a whisper of a scandal out of that man’s mouth and both you and Prim will suffer.”

“Prim?” I ask, freezing in horror. “It would be lies!”

“It matters not. All that will matter is who chooses to believe him. His is not the sort of power you can enrage without consequence. Do you understand?”

My tears and heaving slows. I still do not understand what happened between the masquerade and the morning after to so change Robert’s affections towards me. I feel as though a knife has been lodged between my ribs, but I can understand what Haymitch is saying. Lord Mellark could make it so that no one decent will marry Prim or myself.

In other words, will have to marry Peeta. I have no choice.

************************

Details are finalised. Mr Cameron adjusts the contract as appropriate. Lord Mellark makes a point of telling me how Peeta will now receive half of the amount meant for Sir Robert upon marriage as well as the amount intended for Peeta himself, since the youngest legitimate Mellark has caused his father and his family such embarrassment and trouble.

“Does that satisfy, Miss Everdeen?” Lord Mellark asks as Haymitch signs the paperwork in my father’s stead and hands the quill to me so that I may also sign.

“It is most generous,” I say, certain when he nods that Lord Mellark missed my sarcasm.

The last signature sealing my fate belongs to Peeta. He accepts the quill from me and nearly drops it with how hard he tries to keep from touching me in the exchange. A sickening feeling fills me as I wonder what, if anything, Robert told him about that night at the masquerade. My eyes jump to the scars on his face. Annoyance that he would so judge me when he is clearly marked as I am churns in my gut. Or perhaps there are other reasons he now acts as though I have leprosy.

Then I cannot watch as he bends over the desk to sign. I stare unseeing out the window and wait for the scratching of quill tip on parchment. It does not arrive. Peeta stands and sets the quill back in its jar.

“May I speak to you a moment, Miss Everdeen?”

“I think you have spoken enough,” I say.

“There will be time for that later. Sign the papers.” I truly wish I could challenge his blasted father to a duel.

“After then? Perhaps a walk in the garden?” Peeta persists.

“I would not foul the pathways so,” I say, furious that he would suggest such a thing, even if he is unaware of what passed between Robert and I three days ago. A proposal in one garden and a kiss in another. I don’t care if it was not real, I won’t allow this bastard to further sully my memories of that day. The Marquis makes an odd noise in his throat.

“You are a nasty piece, aren’t you? No wonder my son had no real interest in you.”

The words strike deep and cause such pain. When I was eight, my mare was spooked by a snake and threw me. I laid on the ground gasping for air, my chest tighter than a corset. I thought I might die and this feeling that Lord Mellark imposes on me with his words is far worse than that feeling.

Because it must be true. Regardless of what happened at the masquerade, Robert would not have eloped and married another with such haste and no word of explanation to me if he felt any true regard for either myself or my feelings. Whatever I felt that night was truly one sided.

“Enough insults, Mellark. She has signed your damn papers. Allow the girl some anger and upset for the way things have turned out,” Haymitch says.

Lord Mellark grunts and begins to gather his things. “I haven’t time for this, boy. Already I have wasted an entire morning on this mess. Either sign or I will pursue my initial plans.”

I have no idea what he means, but whatever it is spurs Peeta into action. I’ve never seen anyone sign their name so fast nor with so much restrained rage. The glare he sends his own father leaves me breathless. I feel a slight twinge of pity as I realise that I am not the only one being forced into this travesty of marriage against my will.

Then I crush it. I have no space in my shattered heart for Peeta’s pain. I’ve enough of my own to carry.

“Excellent. I’m off. Good day, Abernathy.” The Marquis departs with his solicitor and his papers.

The three of us left in the room linger in charged silence until the carriage leaves.

“Why are you still here?” I snarl at Peeta.

“I should go explain things to your aunt,” Haymitch says and practically runs from the room. I scowl after him, furious at his cowardice in leaving me alone with this bastard. Shouldn’t he at least punch Peeta to defend my honour?

I doubt that you need his help. Robert’s words about me not needing Haymitch to defend my honour rise up in my memory to taunt me. Very well then. I shall do it myself.

“There is something I must tell you,” Peeta says before I can so much as make a fist.

“I’ve no wish to entertain a bastard this afternoon. If you’ll be so good as to see yourself out.” I spin and march from the room. I make it to the stairs before the tears start and then I run.

***************************

I lay with eyes fixed on the window, the curtains parted just enough to admit the glow of the moon. So beautiful and cold in the night sky. I wonder if Prim or my mother were able to enjoy their evening. It has been several days since I heard from them. I never told them of my engagement, thankfully. At first distracted by the masquerade and then by Sir Robert’s silence, I never sent word. Now I am glad that I did not, for explaining that mess would only make this entire situation worse. And to think just three nights ago, I squealed with foolish, girlish joy over a few kisses, thinking myself to be falling in love.

My eyes ache, tormented by the need to contain my tears all day while I was forced to sit in the parlor between Aunt Effie and Madge. Forced to drink tea and laugh at the “mistake.” Forced to pretend joy at my betrothal to a man I despise and who I am certain despises me.

Of course every known acquaintance would choose today to visit, tempted here by that blasted announcement to offer their congratulations. Effie insists it was not her who ran the announcement. That leaves only Robert himself, but that makes no sense either and unfortunately, Peeta was right. It matters not who sent in the announcement. What matters now is repairing the damage.

While I have been mourning for my loss of something I am not certain I ever possessed, barely able to speak and instead hiding behind a false smile of speechless fake joy, Madge and Effie had the difficult task of explaining that no, Katniss shan’t be wedding the charming Sir Robert but the other brother, with whom I am apparently madly in love.

I could release them now. The tears. I’ve enough of a broken heart to fill the night with sobs aplenty and give myself a headache, but I refuse to give the trio of Mellark bastards determining my future the satisfaction.

“Katniss…” Madge whispers. Her voice sounds choked, as though she too is holding back tears. “I’m so sorry. I… I was so concerned about returning to Maysilee as soon as possible. So happy when it seemed that we might find you a decent man for a husband with such ease that I was—“ she sniffles as tears slip from my eyes. I know she is crying as well. “I’m so sorry. I do not want your marriage to be anything like mine was.”

I squeeze my eyes shut and summon as much cheer as I can manage.

“Perhaps Mr. Mellark suffers a terminal illness and will make me a widow by the end of the year.”

“Perhaps,” Madge says although she does not sound convinced.

“It is not your fault, Madge,” I whisper, my voice a detached monotone. “You did not elope with Robert, nor did you encourage him to do so.”

“No. But I ignored the warnings in his behaviour.”

“What warnings?” I turn slightly in bed, a sudden cold feeling sweeping over me.

“I do not know how to explain it and perhaps it is the clarity of viewing past events and knowing the outcome now speaking, but Sir Robert’s suit was… lukewarm at best. So little passion for such haste. In truth, now that I think on it, Peeta showed more interest in you than Robert did.”

“Until the masquerade,” I remind her, ignoring what she says about Peeta. She sighs.

“Yes. That I cannot yet explain.”

I do not answer, unable to do so without expelling a torrent of sobs. I wait until I have control and by then, I am certain she is asleep and unable to hear me.

“Nor I.”

************************

I survive the second day of my engagement to Peeta Mellark and escape to the garden after the visitors cease their torment, using the excuse of cutting flowers for the dinner table. The gardner who would usually attend the task gave no resistance when I asked, handing over her shears and basket with a soft look of pity. Bah. Does everyone know of my misfortunes in romance?

I need a distraction and the flowers oblige. I have half filled the basket when a sound alerts me to the presence of another. I expect Madge and scowl when I see Peeta walking towards me. His gait is uneven and he moves with a pronounced limp. Good. While I do not know the source of his injury, I do know that he deserves some pain for what he and his brother have done to me.

“You are late for visits. We are fresh out of tea, and I will not be inviting you to dinner.”

“Miss Everdeen,” he says as he stops near me.

“Have you come to make more demands then? Is marrying you not enough?”

“I did not want this any more than you.”

I do not even try to contain my sound of disbelief. “You did not want Robert to marry me. You made no secret of that, and now you have exactly what you wanted.”

“Not like this. I did not want this,” he insists. I choose to ignore him now. Maybe then he will leave. “I merely wanted to be sure that he would not fall in love with someone who could not and would not love him in return.”

The silence the stretches between us, broken only by the songs of birds and the faint noises of traffic on the street in front of the house.

“You garden as a hobby?” Peeta asks, clearly not taking my hints that I wish him to be gone. I resign myself to attempting conversation.

“I suppose that is not a suitable hobby for the wife of a Marquis’ illegitimate son in your mind?”

“I have nothing against gardening.”

“Thank goodness. My continuation of my favorite activities was hanging by the thin thread of your approval.”

“You dislike me.”

“No more than you dislike me,” I say and examine a few stems instead of looking at him.

“I do not dislike you at all, Miss Everdeen,” he says softly.

“Good heavens!” I say and lean back, sheltering my eyes from the sun with one hand to look up at him. “Such high praise! I would hate to see how you treat someone who has earned your disdain.”

He makes a strange growling noise of frustration in his throat. “Despite what you may think, I find you…intriguing and…enchanting. I do not wish for either of us to be miserable in our lives together. If you could find it in your heart to give me a chance—“

The snorting, indignant huff of disbelief I make cuts off his words and he finally ceases. I am quite tired of seeing Peeta Mellark, I think as I stand, brushing dirt off my hands onto my skirts since in my haste to escape, I forgot gloves. Effie would be furious at the dirt I leave on my skirts, especially in the presence of a gentleman, but if we’re going to be married, he might as well know what he’s getting.

I have always preferred feeling the plants and the soil, the life between my fingers anyways.

“A chance to do what?”

“Tell you the truth, for starters.”

“By all means, do share,” I throw my arms wide and let them fall to my sides. “I cannot see how it could possibly make anything worse. What excuse will you give for your brother courting and misleading a lady only to discard her the day after he proposes, I wonder. It is certain to be quite entertaining.”

“Robert was gone mere hours after he proposed to you.” A stab of pain lances across my chest at this. I shake my head to deny the words that pour from Peeta’s mouth. “He never made it to the masquerade at all.”

“No.” I keep shaking my head, hoping that it will make this nightmare stop. “No I saw him there. He…”

“That wasn’t Robert,” Peeta whispers and his fingers trace mine, exactly as the man in the mask did that night. My heart revolts against what he is saying. “Katniss—“

“No!” I shout and step away from him, snatching up my shears again. “You are not allowed to address me so! You and your kin have lied to me, used me most horribly, insulted me, and played with my heart! You have taken away what little choice I had in to whom and when I am married! You are not allowed to speak my name thus!”

I spin back to my plants and grasp a rose by the stem then yelp as the thorns pricks me.

“Bastard roses!” I screech, bringing my hand to my chest and dropping the shears.

“Even the flowers meet your disapproval in their wanton ways of pollinating.” Peeta reaches out and grasps my hand. We engage in a brief tussle for control of my wrist, but he unfortunately wins with a glare reminiscent of the way my mother used to look at me when I would not sit still to have a scrape cleaned and dressed. “You have gotten a pair of thorns embedded in your palm. Come with me.”

Pain and heartache make me too weak to resist. I should kick him but am suddenly sapped of the strength to do so. Surely an effect of my outburst.

He leads me towards a rain barrel and produces a handkerchief and after assuring me that it is clean, dips the elegant cloth into the rain water. He gently cleans the cuts on my palm. My pulse turns erratic as he blows on the cuts to dry them, wiping away more dirt. I watch as his pristine white cloth grows dark with earth and my blood.

“This may hurt a little,” he warns and he slides a knife out from I’ve no idea where. I gasp, stunned at the quick flash of metal. “Apologies. Habit from–”

“The infantry?” I ask and he nods. I take a deep breath and give him permission. “Proceed.”

I turn my head away so I need not watch. As comfortable as I am with the blood of animals, human blood – in particular mine or that of anyone I love – never fails to make me nauseous.

“For shame on the flowers. Cavorting with the bees,” he murmurs as I barely feel a prick or two and then slight pressure.

I snort at this and shove the laughter down deep. I will not give him the satisfaction of my laughter as his warm palm cradles mine, loose enough to not hurt me but tight enough to prevent my escape. For me to feel the calluses on his skin and the caress of his thumb over mine in a soothing gesture. The touch feels familiar although I dismiss that as a trick caused by his words. I refuse to believe it was Peeta at the masquerade that night. I can only withstand so many blows to my heart.

“They are Aunt Effie’s favorite but, I am not fond of roses,” I gasp out and he lifts his head to look at me.

“Because they are so…scandalous?” he asks with a teasing smile lifting the corner of his lips. I fight back my own smile. I will not smile for him. I will not fall for more of his deception.

“No. Because their scent is overwhelming and sticks in the nostrils, eventually growing foul. They are quite common. Everyone seems to hand them out as gifts and has them planted in their gardens.”

“So you prefer more extraordinary blooms.”

“No.” I say, and he seems to be waiting for more.

“Perhaps something more wild and native to your home then.”

I cannot breathe. The intense way he looks at me wraps around me and squeezes the air from my lungs.

“Why do you care?”

“Because like you, I do not wish to marry a stranger, nor a person who cannot even stand my presence, regardless of the circumstances of engagement.”

He has been holding my hand for longer than necessary and gazing into my eyes for certainly much too long and yet I cannot seem to break the connections. I cough and nod towards our hands. “Are the thorns out?”

“Yes.” He lets go my hand then and steps away from me, only to remove his cravat. I am too speechless to ask what the devil he is doing. “And I do believe that you will live.”

“I am relieved to hear it,” I say and Peeta laughs. At my words or my tone, I cannot be sure, and I am too distracted by his state of undress and then by the awful ripping sounds as he uses the knife to cut a length of silk from his neck cloth. Setting aside the knife, he once more takes my hand in his and uses the strip of silk to bandage my hand.

“We have bandages inside,” I croak. He pauses in his work and I shake my head. “No, I do not know if Aunt Effie keeps any. My mother does, at home.”

He finishes his task while I stare at the scars that are normally hidden beneath his collar and that disappear beneath his shirt. How far down his body do they extend, I wonder, and does he already know of mine? The garden is unbearably warm this afternoon.

“There,” he says and then says my name like a plea, but I shake my head and return to the rose bushes.

“I do not wish to be miserable in matrimony either, Mr. Mellark. Dishonesty is something I cannot abide.”

“I have not lied to you.”

“Either you were deceiving me several nights ago at the masquerade or you are deceiving me now.” I turn back to judge his reaction. He clenches his jaw and turns one direction then another.

“It is more complicated than that. My only excuse for the masquerade is that I meant to protect my brother and I… became distracted.”

“How convenient, sir.”

“I cannot convince you?”

“No.”

“Shall I return tomorrow then? Perhaps you might enjoy a ride in the park, beneath the trees.”

I squint at him and shake my head. “A good attempt, sir, but that will not work. Robert could have told you everything that passed between us.”

“Not everything.”

My cheeks heat as he steps closer. Close enough for me to feel the heat shifting in the air around us, the currents I felt the other night reborn and charged with animosity rather than desire this time. No, it is a trick. I am feeling things that are not there, influenced by his deception.

I cannot stand the feelings and turn away from him to snip off a few more blooms without paying much attention to their quality and lay them in my basket to take inside.

“I want no deception between us as well, Miss Everdeen. The simple truth is that Robert was long gone when I found your note to him about the ball. Realising that you would be expecting him and questions on his whereabouts might be raised before Ethan could reach him, I was sent to…distract you.“

"Who sent you? Your charming father? It’s preposterous and you really expect me to believe that?”

“If you cannot believe me, then I shall refrain from speaking of it again, but it is the truth.”

“Then you’re off?” I say, unable to account for the sinking feeling inside me.

“Not yet. There is one more matter I wish to discuss with you before I leave you be.” I pause in my flower gathering long enough for him to take it as approval to continue. “I imagine you are anxious to return home to see to your father, your mother and sister, as well as the needs of your home. If you wish, I would join you at Everdeen in a week’s time. A small wedding at your home where your family could be present might suit best. If not, you can return here once you’ve seen to your responsibilities, and we can be wed at that time.”

“You are giving me a choice?” I turn slightly to face him.

“I leave it solely in your hands.”

I flounder for words, stunned by the gesture of handing me control, however little it may be.

“You do not need to choose now. Think on it and let me know.” He hands me a folded piece of paper, bows, and then departs, still limping slightly.

It takes several minutes after he has left for me to brave looking at the paper. He has written a fully addressed letter, sealed and all, and in the corner is his direction, so that I might write him my answer.

I stuff the letter in my pocket without reading it and hurry inside, deciding what flowers I have already cut will suffice. I will need to begin packing immediately and speak to Madge, Uncle Haymitch, and any number of servants if we are to leave for Everdeen first thing on the marrow.

I am going home.

************************

To be continued…

#Springtime Edition 2019 #submission #prompt 88 #M

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