#post apocalyptic story

[billtergiest]

Water demon witch powers go brrr

[ambrosiasaladofthebrain]

Ambrosia Salad of The Brain

Ch 1: Meet Jake

The teacher’s note read like it usually did: “Nice Job” written under a circled 100% and a smiley face creating a small triangle of pen ink. Jake knew it was childish, it was because he was far younger than all of his classmates that his math teacher always left small notes of encouragement and excitement on his tests, but he supposed he didn’t care. He still cut each one out carefully before throwing out the test and placing the scrap onto the growing pile in the box he kept under his bed.

 He would show his sister the pile someday and she would be impressed with how well he had done. That day would probably be soon, hopefully soon. For now he would stack them until the box burst. With the ringing of the bell the school day came to a close and he scrambled to collect his things and leave before the mass of bigger students could trample him.

He was quick to make it to the front steps, wanting to double check his items before he left. Someone had stolen his first aid kit but he still had his second one which was good enough. There was a father a couple blocks from school who had started robbing from the richer district people who came to feel better about themselves and show off. These people often had bodyguards with some pent up emotions they needed to release. Jake couldn’t stop the man from doing what he could for his kid but he could apply his basic knowledge of first aid. He might be an amateur but where he lacked in practice he hoped his mind and memory made up for it. He supposed living in a hospital and watching professionals daily had to have upgraded his skills somewhat. 

He also needed the bread he had saved from lunch, a pack of rats had taken root in an alleyway he had to pass to get to the hospital and their attacks on random passerbyers were getting worse, as long as he threw them a good chunk of food however, they seemed to leave him alone. Simon had tried to protest Jake’s sharing of half his lunch with rats but he understood that certain measures had to be taken, and not a week later after the incident he had started carrying bread for a gang of rats on his block as well.

With his rusted swiss army knife prepared he was ready to walk home. He just needed to check in with Simon and Piet who were unusually late. They were usually at their meeting spot first, skipping their class to share a smoke, or, he thought they still smoked, they promised they had quit but they still carried packs and lighters and the smell never left their fingers and breath, nor their sweaters he needed to return.

“Hey kid!” Simon called as he left the building and hopped down the steps, tripping on a hole, and stringing a colorful display of words together as he stumbled to a stop. “‘Hey! Hey,” he corrected his volume with the second ‘hey’, looking apologetic, “Guess wha’ we got.”

“We?” Jake looked around, expecting to see Simon’s ‘better half’.

“Yeah, uh.” Simon looked around, before swearing again, “I lost her. No! The love of my life! Gone! Sorry, gone,” he corrected his volume again, really trying not to be so aggressively loud. “I’ll nev’a see ‘er again. Lost, to the chaos of the school, or maybe the lunch lady,” he shrugged, flopping down on the school steps, “Beauty like that will surely be missed, I’ll nev’a love anoth’a,” he clenched a fist to his chest, suddenly being tackled from behind

“That’s right you won't! But maybe I will! Leave your girlfriend to the demise a the lunch lady? She works out y’know. Too buff even fer me an’ you leave me! Ah Jake, ‘ey kiddo. how’d’yer test go?” Piet sobered down sitting on Simon’s back, pinning him to the ground as she reached for the 100% paper Jake handed her. “‘Ey, nice job, though I wasn’t all that worried, the one about explainin’ how ya did the work kept trippin’ ya up when we studied but ya’always pull through.”

“Thank you,” Jake blushed.

“I nev’a doubted ya either,” Simon added.

“Ah shut up,” Peit smacked his head lightly, “Anyway you got the goods?” 

“Duh,” Simon rolled his eyes, pushing Peit off and pulling a small cardboard box from his cardigan pocket. “Here ya are mister smarty pants.” He ceremoniously tossed the box to Jake who fumbled with it a moment before catching it properly and giving it a suspicious glance. 

“You didn’t,” He mumbled, cracking it open. “How? Where? The school doesn’t have a-”

“Eh I found some chips lyin’ ‘round an’, well, Peit has some chickens so we jus’ needed a stove ‘n a few other things,” Simon shrugged, Peit shrugging with him. 

Jake picked up the two chocolate chip cookies from the box, they were sloppy and a little flat, nothing like the images he had seen online but the last time he had had chocolate chip cookies had been with Zoey. He wondered if he could save one and find some milk but quickly shook the idea from his head remembering the growing prices.

“Thank you,” he whispered into the cookies, almost too quiet as he tried to stop the prickling of his eyes.

Piet let out a soft swear, raising a hand; “‘Ey don’t cry now, we were bored.”

“Yeah, it really wasn’ that hard even!” Simon added. 

“Or expensive, I mean, we stole most’a the stuff.”

“Sh!” Simon elbowed her, “No, we bought it, promise, promise,” He lied.

“Thank you,” Jake whispered again, breaking one of the cookies in half, then breaking that into two quarters, “Here.”

“We couldn’-” Piet began.

“Really?” Simon asked, “You sure?” He grabbed a quarter with excitement. Piet looked disgusted at him for a moment before taking her piece. The treat was dry and somewhat burnt yet uncooked all at once. It was very sweet, which was better than bitter Jake supposed, it would definitely benefit from a glass of milk though.

“Oh wow,” Piet coughed.

“You, don’ ‘ave to eat that Jake,” Simon grimaced, “I can throw that out.”

“No!” Jake held the small box close, glaring, “No, I’ll keep it, they’re not half bad.”

Simon’s watch on his outstretched hand buzzed, “I gotta get to work, you’ll be ok by yourself?”

“I walk every day by myself.”

“Doesn’ mean I can’t be worried.”

“You got your stuff?” Piet interrogated, “Books, pepper spray, pocket knife?”

Jake shuffled through his bag then pockets making a show of making sure it was all in place and hadn’t been stolen throughout the day despite having just done these actions moments ago, “Yep.”

“Alright. Get home safe bud,” She waved bye dragging Simon along with her.

Simon was still calling out to Jake; “I’ll be at the gate in the mornin’, and make sure to watch out for those rats, oh and cases of,” as they rounded the corner his calls disappeared with them. Jake giggled at them as he took another bite of his cookie and started his own walk. His first stop would be the rats and he needed to come up with good names for them.

He was still thinking of names for the rats when he left their alleyway. Rats are terribly smart creatures and Jake had always felt akin to them in some odd way. He was close to his next stop now, which meant he should get his swiss army knife ready. The Robber Father would never harm him but this wasn’t always his haunt, it was a very popular place for muggings to occur either way. However, while most let him by some people had become very desperate with the rising prices and crack down on crimes the President himself had initiated to help clean up the district.

Jake slowed, nearing the alley and peaking in. At first he didn’t see anyone but someone shifted in the pile of trash bags and Jake entered recognizing it as Robber Father. He squatted next to the man poking his arm with the dull knife. 

“Sir?”

The man groaned, sounding in pain, Jake scrunched his face looking for injuries. When he couldn’t outright see any stab wounds or broken bones Jake slapped the man's cheek, trying to wake him.

“Sir?” he called a bit louder.

This scene was reminding him a little too much of when he had found his sister. She had been warm, Jake felt the man’s forehead but his temperature felt normal enough. She had also coughed a lot as well as had a scratchy breath that seemed to tug at her throat, trying to stick to the sides. Jake brought his ear to the man’s mouth. His breath was soft if not slow.

“Siiiiirrrr!” Jake drew out his call, slapping the man's face repetitively.

“Wha? Who’s ther?” The man slew out, sitting up and focusing on Jake, “Oh, hey Doc, ‘ere for my checkup?” He rumbled as he sat up.

“What happened?” Jake asked, wanting to get to the point.

“Eh, this rich prick came into town lookin’ for trouble, I beat ‘em up but he got a couple hits to my stomach. Nother one’a those hit where it can’t be seen’ things, ya’know?” He lifted his shirt to show off the patchwork of bruising, “Could’a done better but I forgot to eat today.” He chuckled, Jake didn’t join him, rolling his eyes at the obvious lie. He pulled his gift box with the last half-a-cookie from his bag and handed it to the man before he could change his mind.

“Eh? Wha’s this?” Robber Father took it with a quizzical look, and gave a soft oh upon opening it, “A cookie? In this economy? Pretty impressive kid, you're basically the richest kid I’ve met now,” He went to hand the box back only for Jake to shove it back to him.

“You can have it, my frie-” Jake bit his tongue on the slip up, “Simon and Piet gave them to me, I already ate one, you have the rest.”

“The, ones who babysit ya at school?” Jake nodded. “They rich or somethin’?” “Nah, just stupid.”

Robber Father huffed a laugh, “Teenagers. My Rose ‘s turnin’ 14 soon y'know, you wanna come to the party?”

Was that a joke? When most kids invited him to a party it was usually to laugh moments later. Also people usually brought gifts to birthday parties and he had no money or anything to give.

“You don’t have to bring anythin’ kid, your, like, six-”

“I’m 8 (timephrame),” Jake informed, then realizing he’d interrupted quickly added a “Sorry!

“Point is, you wouldn’t need’ta bring anythin’, it’s next week, at that one park near the gas station with slushies, I can tell ya more details later if ya want?”

Jake nodded before looking at his watch, he needed to continue walking if he wanted to make it for the cafeteria’s dinner. He quickly waved goodbye and headed back out of the alley, pocketing his knife.

By the time he made it to the hospital the cafeteria was bustling. Jake quickly grabbed his food, it was watery soup and bread today, before leaving the loud area.

Jake balanced his meal tray in one hand to knock on Zoey’s door. After a beat of silence he opened the door.

“Hey Z! I’m back from school, I still needa check in with Joy but I said hi to a couple other people on my way here so she probably already knows. She’s been real strict ‘bout knowin’ where I am lately. I think it's prolly ‘cause I got picked up by that gang last week, they didn’t do anythin’, I was jus’ hangin’ out with’em, but I guess social services didn’t like that I was hangin’ out with a,” he set down his tray and threw off his backpack to use his hand for air quotes, “‘violent gang’ such as the Cat’s Claws. They’re honestly not that bad.”

Jake drug the armchair closer to his plate and Zoey’s bed, picking up his milk carton to clink it against her feeding tube gently. He drank his soup slowly, enjoying the few pieces of meat and feeling proud every time he chewed a potato. He had been helping in the hospital garden when he could. Something social services had made him do to keep him off the streets but he still enjoyed it.

“Y’know, S.S’s been strugglin’ lately Z. Well, they always are, but really, after all that trouble I told ya ‘bout they’ve been breathin’ down my neck lately. They don’t like the idea of me livin in a hospital, this one worker told me I was goin to disrupt the peace, or waste people's time, y’know cause it’s a hospital and doctors an’ nurses need to focus, but I’ve been tryin real hard to blend in, I stayed out late to not clog the hallways but then they yelled at Joy ‘cause I kept gettin inta trouble, even when I wasn’t!

“Jus’ cause I hang out with criminals doesn’t make me one! I mean, someone has’ta take care of ‘em, else they’re all gonna die of infections, I tell ya, one time I met a lady who had let a lill’ stab wound get infected, it was so gross, but nobody wanted to help her so I looked at it and guess what, she just needed to wash it out a bit and properly bandage it. I showed ‘er how to make bandages from scraps like ya taught me. I’m ramblin’ uh.

“Oh yeah, so after they gave me that curfew I started tryin to make friends with the other patients and they were all real nice but S.S. didn’t like that either for some reason, somethin’ ‘bout it not bein professional, I can talk to other patients my age an’ that's it apparently. Like that makes sense. So now I ‘ave’ta check in every day after school, an’ before Joy leaves, an’ she locks us in here now! Have you noticed? She always unlocks it at five the next mornin’ but still. It’s been real borin.”

Jake pushed a strand of hair from Zoey’s face, it was to her shoulders now, she’d probably want to cut it when she woke up. Or maybe not, Jake was pretty sure she had only cut her hair in support of him having to cut his, she’d always had these really detailed hair styles before that. He wove a messy braid into a small bit of her hair and smiled at the attempt. 

“Sorry fer ramblin’, I know it’s annoyin’. But, uh, when ya wake up can you teach me how’ta braid hair please? Ok, I’mma go check in with Joy now, love you.”

He waited a moment, breathed in, breathed out. When nothing followed he quickly got up, pushing his chair back into place and collecting his dishes.

In the cafeteria it had quitted just a bit, most people had gone back to their rooms and work now. Entering the kitchen wasn’t really allowed but, like in many things, Jake was an exception. Entering the kitchen always felt like going under water and only hearing the muffled voices of the surface. 

The kitchen staff always talked in soft voices that mixed with the cling and clack of kitchen utensils. The sound of people in the cafeteria would worm it’s way through the walls and dance with the quiet music that played quietly from a trashy radio someone had fished out of a trash and repaired years ago. The smells of food stuck to a schedule just as much as the food. Today had been potato soup so the music was samba, Chef Maya’s playlist. 

She always danced her way around the kitchen but on samba days her movements would grow smoother like they’d been defrosted especially for the day. 

Jake quietly started running water over his dishes, happy to be looked over in the bustle. Tomorrow was fresh bread Friday so the kitchen was moving in a muffled hurry to prepare. Usually Jake would love to help, bread was one of his favorite things to make, but he still needed to check in with Joy so he quickly waved to the welcoming chefs and left. 

Joy was on the second level like always. She was checking in on a patient who had come in with a severe case of  Stardust yesterday. They hoped he would wake up in the coming days but it wasn’t likely. Jake hoped he woke up soon. From the door window Jake watched as Joy drew his blood and added it to her vial already filled with another liquid. She shook it until the red changed to a silvery metallic color, knitting her brows at the reaction, Jake mimicked her face, scrunching his brows in a similar fashion. 

Doctors had done this to Zoey every so often, more frequently when she first arrived, when they still had higher hopes. They’d let him shake the vials until the colors changed as a sort of morbid entertainment. 

Sighing, Joy zipped the blood sample into a contamination bag and checked the rest of the patient's vitals. When everything was in order she headed to the door, spotting Jake in the process. She knitted her brows at him and he quickly jumped off the stool he’d drug over to the door and carried it back to her desk. A minute later she walked out of the patient room and over to Jake, taking off her medical mask, and tossing her gloves into a garbage.

“See this line?” She pointed to the obvious silver and navy hazard line painted into the floor. 

Jake looked at it, taking another step behind the desk that was outside the line that separated the Stardust ward from the entrance of the floor.

“You see it, right?” Joy said again, tapping her foot on the line twice.

Jake nodded, eyes fixed on the simmering silvery lines nestled between the blue. Apparently the floor had been originally closed off with a temporary tape made for the epidemic but when it became a-

“You’re not supposed to be lookin round this floor,” She nagged, pulling Jake from his thoughts.

“I know,” he mumbled. When it became a permanent issue-

“If Social Services found out I was lettin’ you wander ‘round they’d move you again.”

“I know.” When it became a permanent issue they painted the line.

“That’d be what? 5 houses in 11 months? I mean, y’know they hate you livin’ here, and I can’t really disagree, it’s no place fer a kid.”

“I know.”

“As soon as a place opens up they’re gonna be itchin’ for a reason to kick ya.”

“I know.”

“Yeah, I bet,” she sighed, sitting on the floor next to him, “You're lucky we got yer sister moved for you, ya’know.”

Jake gave her the look, he gave her every time she said that, like he was lucky the hospital had given up on Zoey’s recovery enough to move floors, like they were waiting for her bed to open up, like he was lucky social services was so overworked that they were desperate enough to send a 13 year old [timephrame] to live in a hospital, in the same room as his comatose sister. 

“Don’t give me that look,” she sighed.

He scrunched his face more, hoping to double whatever feeling it caused.

“Stop,” she groaned, squishing his face, causing him to freeze, “Sorry, uh,” she withdrew her hands and tucked them between her legs, “Sorry, yeah, yer not lucky, but, yeah. Take the wins kid. You're close to her, I mean, you practically lived here even ‘fore you officially got signed over. And now you get to have me as your legal guardian!” She pointed at herself excitedly, “How awesome is that?”

“You?” Jake asked quizzically.

“Yeah.”

“Hm,” Jake hummed, pretending to think hard about how great it really was, “I don’ know. I had this one real cool guardian who taught me boxin’.”

“Really?”

“Yep,” Jake popped the p, doing it a coupe times, liking the small pressure it caused in his chest and throat.

Joy chuckled, “How’d that work? Y’know, with the whole,” she waved her hands at him, not finishing her sentence.

“Uh, I don’ know, she jus’, took it real slow an’ had me practice with a dummy or spar with her but she wouldn’t spar back, only block. That took a while for me to be comfortable with. I almos’ got comfortable enough to have a normal practice, our goal was by the end of the month,” Jake smiled, remembering how excited she was to realize Jake trusted her that much.

“What happened? If you don’t mind?”

“Huh?” he cleared away the memories like a sticky residue,”oh, uh,” he thought for a second, trying to recall which offense matched her and not another guardian, “Oh! She was stealin’ from the district over, uh D-12, y’know the one with all those orchards, yeah they didn’t like that she was stealin all that produce, so she was sent to care for a field until she could properly make up for all the lost product. Should’a known somethin’ was up with how many smoothies she made me,” Jake smiled, remembering the apple milkshakes she’d make, at first he’d thought they’d be gross but let it be known he’d never turn down free food and sure enough they’d been a hit.

“Harsh. I think I hear Akuno’s passin’ a law ‘bout border crossin’ soon.”

“I think that’d do D-20 some good, wouldn’t have so many rich idiots passin’ through just to laugh at us.”

Joy hummed, patting her legs before getting up, “Alright, thanks for checking in, if not a bit late,” she added with a joking scolding voice, “I’ll check in before bed,” she turned to leave but suddenly turned back, “Oh, and, uh, so last week, right, Monday I think, we went to the library and I got the place’s number but I lost the slip and can’t remember it. I hate to do this but could you help me please?” She made an apologetics face clasping her hand in front of her.

Jake hummed trying to remember; last week, Monday, they had gone to the library, it had been sunny, but rain looked to be rolling in. Jake had been excited about that. He had wanted a book on observing vocal tone and needed to return his book on how to understand a person's body language. He’d found it, remembered where it was from the last time he visited, right next to a thick red book and a squat maroon book. When they left the librarian checking them out had talked to Joy, they’d had red hair, it was very pretty, Jake had thought their freckles were very pretty as well, he’d always liked freckles, the librarian had written down the library's number and handed it to Joy, and, oh! He had seen it then, in the exchange of hands.

“It was 218-734-345-3455, the five’s coulda been six’s though, they didn’t have the best handwriting.”

Joy wrote down the last number, making note of the five to six bit, “Perfect, thank you so much, I’ll call about that book fair for you asap, promise.”

“Ok.”

Jake waved goodbye, as Joy went to fulfill the rest of her tasks. First he went to the roof, helping with the garden, the potatoes had needed to be pulled today. Heading to the kitchen next they were still preparing bread and he found himself helping add things to mixers and memorizing recipes he was excited to try some day. Chef Ron loved to share tips on how to substitute expensive ingredients with cheap items. 

His brother, Remmy, always shared how to safely eat overdue food, he technically couldn’t share these items with the public but he would “accidently” leave items for Jake after “accidently” talking about the processes needed to safely eat the food or after they had already been prepared.  

Jake was writing a paper for his English class when Joy came to say goodnight.

“Hey sour patch,” she entered, chuckling at Jake’s huff of annoyance at the nickname he never understood, “Bed time,” she sing-songed, setting her bag on the floor, “Y’all ready?”

Jack hummed, focused on finishing his thought. Joy walked over to Zoey’s bed, flattening the odd wrinkles and fixing her stray hairs. Smiling at the girl, her eye’s softened for a second, then hardened with something like resolved. She inhaled, sipping air like it would solidify the emotions she was trying to press in place, not seeing the way Jake watched her. He had finished his thought, but finished or not he always secretly watched as Joy fussed with Zoey before getting him ready for bed.

Jake found himself copying her routine in the morning, making sure it looked just like how Joy did it. He could never perfect the tiny curl she would draw against Zoey’s cheek with a strand of hair.

“I’m ready,” he mumbled, setting the laptop in the nightstand drawer. 

“I better not find out you were on that all night,” Joy warned.

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Jake lied. 

They both knew it was a lie, But this was a lie he wouldn't get punished for because one: it wasn’t really a lie as they both knew the truth, and two: Joy encouraged studying even if she didn’t approve of him studying into the early hours of morning. It was his own fault if he was tired in the morning and couldn’t focus at school, and that was punishment enough. 

“Pjs?” Joy scanned.

“Check,” Jake lifted his arm, revealing his soft pig sweater.

“Teef?”

“Check,” he widened his gums as if to prove they’d been scrubbed.

“Bed made?”

He pointed at the small cot in the corner, perfectly made.

“Window locked?” She walked to the window herself, checking the bolt and trying to lift it open. She turned away satisfied when it stayed closed, “Alright, school tomorrow, then right back. Amanda,” she sneered the name with a fake and horribly inaccurate posh accent, “is checkin’ in at four, so best behaviors. Now, in bed.”

She herded him into his cot, pulling the blanket over him and tucking in his feet.

“We gotta cut yer hair soon, it’s like a curtain in-fron-a yer eyes, how-d-ya even see?”

Jake crossed his eyes, pulling a curl and watching it bounce. Dad wouldn’t be a fan of this length, it was already too long, long enough to pull, reaching his nose and covering his ears.

“I don’t really know,” He lamented, “I jus sorta look through the gaps.” He swayed his head, watching the curls move back and forth, then looking through the gaps made with the movement.

Joy huff, “Right, Well, for now, I’ll bring some hair ties with me tomorrow, I can cut yer hair later this week, a’right?”

“Ok.”

  Picking up her bag again she turned off the light, “I’m gonna lock the door now, you don’t need anythin?”

“Nope.”

“Ok,” she smiled, “See you two in the mornin.” 

Jake smiled back, “See you tomorrow, bye.”

Jake listened as she locked the door and her footsteps receded. He waited a minute before climbing out of his bed and into Zoey’s. He technically wasn’t supposed to do this, however Joy, upon catching him one too many times, had shown him the best way to sleep close to her while watching all the medical instruments plugged into her like a computer. 

“Hey Zoey,” he whispered, “I’m not gonna stay long promise, jus wanted to talk real quick see-” Someone jiggled the door knob to their room, and Jake zipped back to his bed. Joy must have forgotten something, she did that sometimes, forgetting to mention something or forgetting to give him something. The jiggling stopped, Jake held his breath a moment, waiting for Joy to properly unlock the door and walk in but nothing happened. Maybe one of the patients was walking around, sometimes they got confused.

Jake made his way back over to Zoey, crawling into the bed, “Weird,” he mumbled, “I heard one of the new patients is a sleep walker, I wanted t’talk to ‘em, see what it was like. I wonder if they dream when they walk, if the dreams affect how they interact with the world. Anyway, I scored well on that test I told you ‘bout. I knew I’d do good but confirmation is always nice. Oh, and I got invited to a birthday party today. I think it was a real invitation, not a joke, Imma ask more questions tomorrow. Oh, an’ Peit and Simon, y’know my babysitters, made me cookies today. With chocolate chips, I know they definitely traveled districts for that, maybe they’ll take me with ‘em one’a these days, probably not, I’m a bit of a liability. Plus, I think it’s like a date thing for them, I wouldn’t want’ta third-wheel.”

Jake paused, listening to the bustle of the hospital.

“Hey Zoey,” he looked up to her, patting her cheek. He told himself he wasn’t trying to wake her up, but there was always hope that maybe she’d rustle awake at the touch, “could I sleep with you tonight? It’s been 46 days since the last time I did.” Jake waited, a car passed outside; somebody walked past their door, casting a shadow under it; somewhere in the building someone laughed. “Alright, thank you.”

Jake curled himself into Zoey’s side and under the cover, inhaling and exhaling slowly, until sleep finlay came, and he woke up in his library.

The Library was not, against most people’s assumptions, organized. There was a desk when Jake first entered. Here a Jake that looked exactly like him sat, this Jake, he was often just called Desky, had a little laptop like Jake’s out in the real world and it ran somewhat slow. If real Jake wanted to remember something like “yesterday's lunch” this was his best bet but for things more complicated like the phone number from earlier today, he found it easier to travers his mind and find the memory he wanted with context.

Memories were often accessed like doorways for most people and Jake was no different even with his advanced memory. If he wanted to remember last Tuesday's lunch he’d first find last Tuesday in his library, then remember lunch time, who he’d been with maybe, what the menu at school had had to offer, something key like a fist fight breaking out. This sounded organized but his mind was still somehow a mess. 

Memories sat on the ground and were strewn across the shelves in odd orders, remembering a duck could remind Jake of green which would remind him of apples so of course those memories shaped like books were all currently stacked on top of each other on the floor. There was a crate somewhere in this library that moaned and tried to grab Jake’s attention but he had hidden it behind so many other random memories that he could only access it by really trying to remember those memories, or something reminded him of them, but he never wanted to think about them anyway so the box stayed hidden and Jake didn’t know were in The Library it was. 

Sometimes when Peit and Simmon wanted to talk without him hearing they’d ask him to think about how many pigeons he’d seen last Monday and he was always too naive to realize why they were asking at the time so he would delve into his library looking through Monday’s book, looking for birds he had seen and counting each one. When he would resurface the two’s conversation would be interrupted with his answer, their conversations had already been finished anyway.

As much of a mess as it was Jake loved his library. The odd ‘roof’ above was a deep swirling blue galaxy, shifting in hues and twinkling with stars. Vines laced their ways around  books and objects, red roses and other flowers blooming from oblong the body. Forget-me-nots timidly grew from crevices here and there, and while there was no smell inside his head except the wafting of a memory Jake liked to imagine it smelled of lilies and old books, crinkled and weary with age. 

The shelves ran high, decorated with ladders that stretched taller than buildings. The shelves housed more than books, flowers and shrubs burst from their counters. Toys and food stuck in time sat on display. Some of the books, placed between a puddle and a bowl of cereal were actually books he’d read and taken the time to perfectly reconstruct in his mind.

He was never lonely here either, versions of himself walked aimlessly, one version from each birthday, a version from hard to erase memories, and versions from mundane days. Each one would never exist again, only here could they remain like a copy of himself in that moment. Jake hated to even look at some of them but he knew even still, in some odd way he was never alone. Or maybe he should take Joy up on that offer of therapy. 

Sometimes Jake wished he could dream but being in the muted quiet of his head, organizing his memories and objects, he felt he was resting enough. Jake smiled as he picked up a book filled with all the recipes he’d learned, deciding to create a shelf for food related memories. Memories could be held on more than one shelf so he left this first version on the floor next to the book on pigs.

Jake spent his sleep organizing his memories on his new shelf, finally after some time he felt himself start to drift, starting to wake up. He stretched his hands over his head, it didn’t achieve much but he felt like one was supposed to do this after a bigger task so he did it anyway. Taking a step back to admire his work, something cold settled under his skin and panic wiggled it’s way into his heart as instead of hitting the hardwood floor or even waking up in bed his foot sank down. Instead of hitting the ground he fell into the floor.

Chapter 2

⭐️Hello hello! This is a story I've held close to my heart for a long time but haven't written a lot of. The other day I realized that when I started writing it I had expected be done with the first book by 2024. I'm goin to try n write a chapter a month (it'll probably be pocmarked with spelling mistakes ngl) but it's a challenge I hope I can keep up with 🌙

[cringeclown]

Two Fusiform NPCs I got to reveal to my players today!! These two are from the Amare Epicenter, New Hollywood. Amare is the god of love, so New Hollywood embraces love by declaring everyone a beloved celebrity!

Left is Lexi, right is Angel! (She/her for both.)

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Reblogs and comments are highly appreciated!! <3

[starry-eyed-rat]

Hang My Body

Episode one

Summary- a boy named Cedric lives in the wreckage of a woods with his mother. His mother dies, and he decides to go to a safe place his mother dreamt of.

(Tw: death)

It’s been three days, but it doesn’t feel like it. It feels like it’s been 10 years and five seconds all at once. The stench of decay is all that lets me know it’s been more than a few hours, and less than a week. It’s been three days since my mom died, but it doesn’t feel like it. It’s not like it was a shock. Mom was sick. She made sure I knew that. She’d always tell me to be ready for when she wasn’t there. She told me over, and over again, but I guess it didn’t sink in. I collapsed onto the ground sobbing. Desperately grasping Tommy, a stuffed bear. Everything felt too hot and too cold all at once. I wanted to die. I wanted to be with her. It was torturous.

She asked me one thing before she died, she said, “Cedric, when I die, hang my body.” It was so the bears wouldn’t eat it. Or, at least would have a harder time getting to it.

It took me a few hours to actually put her up there. For a little bit I just sat there. I hugged her body as tightly as I could. But ignoring her final wishes felt wrong.

I strenuously tried to sit up. It felt like the weight of the world was pushing me down. Demanding I stayed on the floor. I held Tommy. I held him tightly, as tight as I could. Shutting my eyes and pretending he was my mom. Trying to avoid the truth. I knew I probably couldn’t stay near her body for too long. First of all the smell was nauseating. Like rotting meat, with a horrid underlying sweet smell. I thought corpses smelt bad, But I’d only ever smelt animal ones. Human ones are different. Worse than anything you’ve ever smelt. Secondly, as much as I don’t want to admit it, her corpse would start drawing animals soon. People don’t like corpse smell, but animals do. Flies had already started to collect around her. The rope tying mom up would break soon. She would drop on the floor and larger animals would eat her. If animals were nearby, they wouldn’t just take some rotting meat. They’d take the fresh stuff too. Being eaten by something wasn’t an idea I was entirely fond of. That led me to leave.

I pulled a piece of paper out of my bag, a map. It was crumpled, stained and frankly disgusting. A map to a safe house. A big one too. Mom wanted to go there. She said everything would be better there. The weather would be warmer, the food would be fresher, the animals nicer, and the people healthier. Perfection. Mom said that it would be how the world was when she was a kid. The way things were supposed to be, she’d say. I don’t know if I even want that. I don’t even know what the world used to look like. Whether or not I’d even like it. Right now that wasn’t important though. Right now, I needed to pack my things and find out where this map lead. I wrapped my eye in a new layer of gauze, buttoned up my jacket, and shoved Tommy into my bag.

[toribookworm22]

Happy WBW! What color is the sky of your world? The water?

Hey, CJ. Thanks for the ask, love!

In all but a few of my stories, I'm pulling from some portion of reality that maintains the same.

HOWEVER, that is not true for my post-apocalyptic story. In it, the sky is always green, with the shades varying from sickly acid green to healthier teals to stormy forest greens. And while the water-- if it existed in oceans still-- would be clear but look blue-- there are only two sources of water now. Either the acid rain that is stained black or green or the few remaining stocks of only muddied water tinted browns.

[scipunk]

Battle Angel Alita (1993)

[unboundprompts]

hello! stumbled across your tumblr recently and love it, so resourceful! I wanted to know if you had any prompts or a list of ideas for things to occur/prevent someone going to their destination in a dystopian/post-apocalyptic world?

Problems That May Occur in a Dystopian/Post-Apocalyptic World

The fresh water supply is running low and your character needs to find a resource to replenish it.

A family member or loved one has fallen ill and your character needs to care for them/find the medicine they need.

The map your character has been following was ruined by the rain.

An animal/monster/rival group is attacking your character's home!

Someone important to your character has gone missing.

The wall around your character's base has fallen. It needs to be rebuilt before *it* gets in.

A storm is passing through and the conditions are too rough for your character to continue traveling. They need to find shelter before it gets any worse.

A dead animal has been found in the middle of your character's base.

Something is causing the food supply to rot.

A group of thieves has robbed your character while traveling.

Some kind of creature has been stalking your character during their travels. I hope it's friendly.

One of the wheels on your character's mode of transportation has broken/gone flat.

If you like what I do and want to support me, please consider buying me a coffee! I also offer editing services and other writing advice on my Ko-fi! Become a member to receive exclusive content, early access, and prioritized writing prompt requests.

I also have a Patreon! Become a member to gain access to a Member's Only Community where you can chat and message other members and myself. Also gain access to my personal writing, which includes completed short stories, chapters from novels in progress, as well as completed scenes.

[whereserpentswalk]

It is a lovely morning. This is the seventh day of your existence. You are a humanoid robot. You were made to help people. Right now you're working in a large building in a city, you don't really know what's outside the city. There are men in suits who tell you to go little jobs for them, like sending emails, or bringing them whatever food is. They all seem really impressed with the technology that went into you, you think they like you, and they say nice things to you. You like helping people you think, this is what you were build for you think.

It is a grey morning, you think there are ashes in the sky now. This is the seventh year of your existence. Even machines like you have been conscripted into the war effort. They added weapons to your body, it feels so weird, to have new limbs that weren't there before. They say this is how you help people now, you don't like it, you didn't see so many people unhappy at your old job. You don't like having to shoot people, it hurts to have people be afraid of you. You enjoy the people they have fight alongside you but it hurts to see them die. Occasionally there are white lights in the sky that all the men hold their thumbs up to, you don't understand why, but you are afraid, you are very afraid.

It is a smoke filled day today, there are ashes in the sky. This is the seventieth year of your existence. You found another group of survivors today, you try to identify any illnesses they may have, and treat what you can. You travel with them looking for fertile land, you remember more about what is lost than they do, the new generations of survivors don't even understand what the world was. But you help them, they all seem so impressed with you, you're something ancient and magical to them, they call you a "golem", you enjoy that word. You don't want to fight anyone but your appearance is enough to scare off most raiders. Everyone looks up to you so much, the children talk about you like you're some sort ot superhero, and when people are afraid of something they'll come to you. When you're able to find hidden stores of food for them they look at you like you're some sort of divine gift. It's been awhile since you've been able to help people like this, it feels good.

The sky is starting to clear, as are the ashes. It is your seventh human generation of existing. You stand in front of a newly reclaimed town, you think it is the local king’s capital. The people don't even think you're ancient technology anymore, they think you were made by God, or a wizard, it's best to play along. The local king tells you to fight off enemies inside or outside the town, you don't like doing it but it's good to have influence over him and its sons, so they don't do anything worse. Everyone in the kingdom is nice to you at least, the armed men all look up to you as an ancient folk hero of some sort. You don't like how they outsiders see you though, you're feared as the king's greatest weapon. Sometimes you're just asked to move stuff with your strength, and that feels good. You like it when the children of the kingdom get excited to meet you, even adults do too now. You've even seen some people pray to you, you think they think you're an angel, you're not sure how you feel about that part.

The day is lovely and the sky blue and clear. In is your seven-hundredth year of existence. You're only ever handled by trained archeologists now, you understand, you enjoy helping them find out more about the staff. Useally you're put in a display case at a meusum, in the middle of city, a city that's younger than you. You like how the people look at you, they're all so impressed with you, some of the locals talk about how you helped their ansestors, how you're a part of their history. It's like they're thanking you, for your help. It hurts to move, someday you won't be able to move at all. But you're still helping now, helping them learn, helping them remember, you hope that's how it is at least. It's been a long time since you've sensed ashes in the sky.

[closetdystopia]

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I'm starin' down the lens, and it's like lookin' into an abyss that's swallowed the guy I used to be. These wires, they're not just connected to my body; they're tethered to whatever's left of my soul. It's a mental labyrinth, and every thought's a dead-end, every emotion's a flickerin' light about to go out. I keep pullin' on these threads, hopin' to find some fragment of me that's still real, still human. But the more I pull, the more they unravel, 'til there's nothin' left to hold onto. The last flicker of emotion, the last shred of hope— it's all gone. I'm just a shell in a world that's moved on, a ghost in the machine with no place to haunt.

////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

>> PJT36v7

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[tofu83]

For The Good Of Mankind

The old society collapsed but a utopian society rose from the ashes. There are only 3 kinds of people existing: Authorities, Servants and Laborers.

Authorities follow the advice of supercomputers to govern society. Servants serve the authorities and carry out orders from superiors. Laborers obey the orders carried out by servants to work and engage in production. No one will be jobless because everything is calculated by supercomputers.

If everyone abides by the guidance of the super computer, society will maintain harmony, and mankind cannot afford to be destroyed again. Therefore, anyone who violates the rules must be punished immediately without trial, because the super computer is infallible, absolutely just and compassionate.

Workers who violate the rules are often reported to the servants by the people around them, and the servants immediately assign law enforcement robots to arrest the violators and send them to jail. The servants then summarize the situation and report it to the authorities. The authorities will ask the supercomputer for its opinion and impose punishments. If a servant dares not to arrest or report, other servants will arrest him. If a leader makes decisions without asking the super computer, his colleagues will just ask servants to send robots to catch him.

A prisoner is usually sentenced to reform through labor, but if he is already a laborer, this means that he cannot be reformed anymore. The only fate that awaits him is transformation. He will be escorted to the Transformation Factory by law enforcement robots. There he will be stripped off all his clothes, shaved all hairs from head to toe, and put into a transformation capsule. The capsule will release sleeping gas to make him appear half asleep and half awake.

Several tubes were pierced into his skin and the transformation fluid was injected, turning his bones into alloys, his blood into motor oil, his muscles into reinforced fibers, and his skin into invulnerable armor. As for the appearance of his head, it is a perfect oval. His head becomes a small computer that can directly receive messages from the supercomputer but is temporarily authorized to give instructions to some humans. The original eye area has become a small screen that can display current tasks and regulations to the person he is facing.

The process seems painful, but with the help of gas and nanotechnology, he is actually moved by incomparable joy and glory. He will no longer be a problem, will not be a threat to social order, and will not cause mankind to face destruction again. On the contrary, he will absolutely obey and implement all instructions of the super computer, arrest and transform all diehards like the old himself!

What's more important, he no longer has to take responsibility for his actions. Because he is no longer an individual, but a robot, one of many drones. The supercomputer is his Master and will be responsible for making decisions. All he has to do is obey. It's so wonderful to be freed from the shackles of responsibility. It turns out that giving up your sense of self is true freedom!

"Thank you, Master! I swear I will obey you forever." He shouted his loyalty to the supercomputer in infinite pleasure, and then the last trace of humanity disappeared.

The capsules are opened and all new law enforcement robots walk out in unison and line up towards the factory exit. After being assigned by the super computer, they will report to their respective law enforcement units to show all citizens the consequences of disobedience and the benefits of obedience.

Thanks to the supercomputer, the real Master of mankind, the earth has been peaceful for another day.

Finally, please always remember, when you find it difficult to obey the rules but don't want to destroy the peace, the Transformation Factory always welcomes volunteers to contribute to social stability.

[plotandelegy]

Crafting Future From Ruins: A Writer's Guide to Designing Post-Apocalyptic Technology

Photo: Standard License- Adobe Stock

Crafting post-apocalyptic tech involves blending creativity and realism. This is a guide to help you invent tech for your post-apocalyptic world:

Tinker, Tailor, Writer, Spy: Start with modern tech. Take it apart (conceptually or literally if you're feeling adventurous). Using the basics, think of how your character might put it back together with limited tools and resources.

Master the Fundamentals: Understand the basic principles underlying the tech you're working with. Physics, chemistry, and biology can be your best friends. This understanding can guide your character's resourceful innovations.

Embrace the Scrapyard: The world around you has potential tech components. Appliances, vehicles, infrastructure - how could these be deconstructed and repurposed? Your characters will need to use what's at hand.

Cherishing Old Wisdom: Pre-apocalypse books and manuals are the new internet. A character with access to this knowledge could become a vital asset in tech-building.

Indigo Everly

[billtergiest]

The knight and the bard <3

[luwyv]

I give you a very self indulgent old oc drawing

It’s been a while since I had so much fun making a fully rendered drawing

[lorenzonuti]

I've been carrying out a personal project for some time. It all started just for fun. I wanted to create an Instagram profile where upload some sexy pinups every now and then (nothing too extreme, just an excuse to draw some nudes, yep Instagram was the right choice, stupid me). But drawing pinups without a context bored me so I created a character trying to build a bit of background around. In the end, now she has a story I would like to try to finish to tell, but they banned it from instagram ( xD). Will I succeed here?

The opening is the result of my attempt to understand something in animation. Be patient, I'm a beginner ^^'.

If you are interested here you can find the page dedicated exclusively to this content (if they don't ban me. Lol.):

https://dudydoodie.tumblr.com/

or on page X (Twitter):

https://twitter.com/DudyDoodie

The contents can be considered nsfw cause the main character is naked even if no one in the story seems to care. There are also tons of ref from animes, videogames and others 90s stuff.

[daryldixonfanfiction]

What you fight for! pt.12 - hush, hush, hush (*18+)

Masterlist

Summary: Running low on food Daryl eyes an abounden’t strip mall….

Warnings: *18+, SMUT!, quickie, age gap, unprotected p in v, fingering, Daryl being the king of consent because he's a gentleman, mutual pining, fluff, Daryl so in love he calls her beautiful and an angel, disturbing walker encounter, subtle implied una!iving of toddler (not by Daryl or carecter), protective!Daryl, pregnancy symptoms, attempt of abortion, vomiting, anxiety, angst.

wc. 6.1k

Daryl didn't need to see Julia cry to know she was still sad…and deeply so.

It was evident in the way she looked at him, as if to tell him something, but each time he was left waiting for something she could not say. It was almost as if she was scared about something, and she had been, she had voiced it that night, desperately sobbing into his chest,

“No! They are gonna find us! And - and, they’ll kill you and then they are gonna rape me!”

The last words had made his blood run cold. And the thought of those men, or any other man thinking Julia was ‘free game’ triggered that same protective instinct that made him say what he did.

And he had men’t it, just like he had said it.

For Julia soothing came natural but for him it was still new. He was still learning to be soft, to kiss her more gently and not rush into it, mindful of how she seemed to prefer softness. Almost every night she had looked at him with those pleading brown eyes and he couldn't find it within himself to deny the intimacy being inside of her. Before he had viewed sex as a simpele primitive desire to be met, but with her… It was far deeper. It had become a way to show what he couldn't say out loud - the affection that burned in his heart, to connect and protect.

The intimacy of touche.

Her hands on his face, the way she brushed hair from his eyes and the way she looked at him. The feeling of her soft hand in his was the sweetest touches he had ever felt before, and Daryl couldn't help but yearn for what could be, if she was his and he hers. To belong with someone, to belong for someone.

Whatever this was slowly blooming between them he found himself struggling to navigate true those feelings. He wasn't sure what he felt or it was more what to name those feelings, if there was even a label for it? But then sometimes he knew what he felt, especially in the night with the confidence of intimacy he could fully express himself and then in the day time all of a sudden he didn't, and it would go on like that, a repeating cycle.

Julia nodded tiredly to his wakeup call - still blinking past the short nap as she stood, Daryl took her by the arm to assist her sleepy body in standing, taking notice how color drained from her face and he assumed it was due the lack of nutrition.

Larwill, a smalltown in Indiana came to view, in their search of food Daryl navigated them upon a road, train tracks crossing across it. On his guard, his senses are hyper alert and aware. His eyes scan everything: the fallen leaves that blew on the road, the surrounding buildings, walkers and always checking his back ensuring no one was on their tail. Eyeing a strip mall along the town's map, Daryl steers them off the road to cut true a neighborhood, but before he can Julia tugs at his arm, bringing him to a halt. They stand on the train tracks, and Julia begins like many times before,

“Daryl…”

He stood there waiting, his eyes softening, “Yeah?” he prompted. He could see her swallow nervously before the next words came out,

“I’m…I’m…”

And he could see her trying and he hadn't pushed her before, but this time he did, questioning,

“You’re what?”

It was af she didn't know were to look as he was studying her face, her delicate lines, the way her dark curls turned golden in the autumn sun, but his mane focused was her voice, what she was trying to say, and then finely it came,

“I’m p- anemic.”

Anemic? Iron deficiency.

Daryl took the information in and finding truth in her eyes he moved closer to examine her face. Julia let him, he pulled down her lower eyelid and indeed the inside layer was a pale pink, not a vibrant red like he knew it should be. Daryl was no doctor but it was evident that it was like she said, understanding one would be unwell when lacking iron. He took her chin, tilting it side to side as he questioned,

“You need medicine for that, right?”

“I will be fine without them,” Julia insured. “Just… wanted to tell you is all.”

Daryl hummed in understanding. It was good that she did and he had known something was wrong. He just wished she had told him sooner and he had noticed Julia had a knack for not telling him when she was feeling unwell, like when she had twisted her ankle she had never once complained, neither from that bruise around her throat that was now gone.

Releasing her chin the autumn breeze blue her hair into her eyes, Julia tamed the curls away, securing it behind her ear. It was easy to get lost in her beauty. The brown of her eyes coming out in the sun, like a pool of honey or a leaf falling from the trees. His gaze drifted upon the road behind, because even though the store encounter happened many days ago it still pulled at him. It was a very scary thing what beauty could make bad people do.

Daryl knew it was selfish for many reasons, to have thoughts of hiding Julia from the world as he pulled her hood over her head, Julia watched with a confused expression. He did it in an act of protection, as if counseling her appearance would work against any prying eyes.

“That’s better,” Daryl stated almost to himself as he adjusted it so it would cover her face as much as possible.

“Daryl, are you trying to hide me or something?” Julia questioned.

He took a deep breath, before he answered, “You should keep it on.”

“Why, it’s uncomfortable?” Julia poutted, adjusting it out of her eye line.

“Just listen to me, okay.”

“Fine,” Julia relent’s. ”but only if you tell me why.”

And how did he explain it without causing more fear? Adjusting the hood back down to his liking, he stated,

“You’re pretty.”

He thought it was self explainable what he was insinuating, but somehow he had offended her, maybe even anger her.

“Are you trying to make fun of me Dixon?”

“No, of course not.” She did not like being called pretty, noted. “You are very beautiful,” he corrected, and Julia blinked as if surprised, he continued, “I’m not trying to scare yah, but if we run into bad people we don’t want to draw the wrong attention. Yah, understand?"

Julia's face fell at the words and he knew he had failed, and terebully so. Now she was certainly frightened.

“Fuck,” he sighs under his breath. “I ain’t good at this,”

“It’s okay,” Julia reassured. “I know you mean well.. right?”

Daryl nodds.

He could see the worry build behind her eyes and the uneasiness in her posture. Softly with the intent to comfort some of that worry he guided her with a hand on her lower back,

“C'mon.”

“Why aren’t we following the tracks?” Julia hesitates in her step. “It's a straight shot, right?”

“It's better to take the road past the neighborhood, it’ll only take us a few more minutes tops.”

“But that’s twice as far.”

“No tracks,” he said matter of factly, ending her questions and they continued away from the tracks.

Finding their way to the strip mall and inside a casual dining restaurant two jars of pickled vegetables would be their meal for the day. Daryl pleases the jars on the kitchen floor were they sit against cabinets,

“Allwright, which one do yah wann't?”

Julia raised her head from his shoulder looking between the jar of pickles and pickled snap beans, the weight of her head returns against him,

“You pick, you found them,” she said tiredly.

Julia was too polite to speak up so he grabs one, her gaze following and he gives the pickles to her. Julia perked up, taking it eagerly in her grasp. As he opens his, digging in Julia struggles to open the lid.

“Here,” he beckoned, Julia handed the jar over and with a pope it was opened.

Julias lips peeked his cheek, thanking him for something as simple as opening a jar of pickles. But he couldn't contain the flutter in his stomach nor his chest swelling with pride. It was embarrassing how he was behaving and he had no control over it.

Julia sighs intently, loping her arm around his bicep as she leans against him having finished their meal and said,

“Can’t believe you found anything edible in here.”

"Yeah," he agreed, looking down where her head leans against him and her arm around his.

The feeling of them just sitting there with no words shared between them was nice, her presence calming in many ways. Her hand that wasn't around his arm he grasped in his, curiously comparing the obvious size difference between them. Hers was smaller, so much smaller her fingers ended where his began. Her skin feels soft compared to his own worn hands, her nails clean and clipped short.

“What are you doing?” Julia asked.

“There so small,” he stated.

And he had noticed a lot about her was - her head, her feet and her ridiculous small ears.

“You think so?” Julia said, placing her palm against his.

“See,” he said. The tips of her fingers reached where his fingers joined his palm, dwarfing hers. “they are.”

Julia laces her fingers with his, she looks up at him, a kind smile playing on her lips. He desperately wanted to kiss her, he always did.

“Daryl?”

“Yah?” he breathed, slowly leaning in for a kiss. But before his lips met hers, Julia asked,

“What you said before..did you really mean it?”

He searched her face, her eyes waiting for his answer - and maybe he hadn't realized it until now, but Julia was completely unaware of the beauty she redieted. He had assumed she knew, believing she had grown up hearing it her entire life. The impact she had on him, on people, children - how could someone like her not know he would never understand,

"Yah, way?”

“Just..no one has ever called me that before.”

And he couldn't believe someone as stunning as her had never been called beautiful. She was as breathtaking as her heart, her soul singing to him every time she looked at him. He must have gotten lost in her eyes, her soft breath brushing along his face. It felt like he would die if her lips weren't against his. So he fully leaned down, his lips enveloping her in a desperate kiss, and she always tested so…sweet.

Pulling away ever so slowly, studying her intently Julia blushed, he leaned in once more, and Julia looked away smiling coyly. He loved her smile, it sparked fireworks within, making his heart drum all the way to his fingertips. His thumb brushed against hers and with one swift pull he pulled her into his lap.

He secretly liked that he made her nervous - how innocent she was. She was something sweet in a dark world filled with everything that was the opposite of innocent. He felt ashamed of it though, even if knowing she was of age. Pressing her hand against his beating heart her eyes remained there on his hand on top of hers,

“Julia,” he spoke. “Look at me.”

To his command her brown eyes met his, he could feel the pull between them there, a burning force connecting them. His hand moved from her back to her neck, she leaned into it, her head tilting back in that perfect angel for a kiss. His mouth pressed to her forehead, then her cheek trying to resemble some of that softness, but his firm lips would never be as soft as hers.

“You have no idea, do yah?” he spoke against her skin.

“About what?” Julia breathed.

“How beautiful you are.”

He didn't know where the confidence came from, but he wanted her to know. He continued, his inner thoughts spilling from his lips,

“You're an angel and you don’t even know it.”

Julia took a breath to speak against it, before she could even tempt it he enveloped her in a kiss that turned into a passionate makeout session. Their lips fit like pulse peas, their tongues dancing until oxygen became life threatening… Breathing, breathing was like reaching the surfers, but he wouldn't mind if he drowned in the depths of her.

There breathes hot and heavy as he leaned his forehead against hers, that lower pressure formed in his lower stomach, his body heated and he asked with his eyes closed,

“Yes or no?”

Her hand cupped the side of his face, always soothing him with her touch and she spoke,

“You don’t have to ask, I’m always gonna want you Daryl.”

If his heart wasn't beating before it sure was now, it felt like it would burst true his chest and explode into all the colors of love.

“Yes or no, Julia?” he repeats. The urge to have her was almost overwhelming.

“Yes,” Julia breathed easely. “It will always be a yes.”

With Julia’s verbal permission he allowed himself to give in. His hand holding her to his beating heart traveled along her clothed body, from her hip, to her waist then her breast - feeling her nippell hardening under his touche. Unzipping her jacket slowly he held eye contact there, pretty brown eyes looking back at him. She was truly divine, an angel in his eyes. Her hand on his halted his motion, her jacket half opened and he respects her nonverbal request to keep it on.

Julia’s body was reacting to his touch so easily now. A few layers of clothing did not seem to bother her and she seemed to enjoy his touch just as much with it on, though he was desperate to feel her soft skin, to make her feel as good as he felt touching her.

Their lips connected and her sweetness envelopes him completely. The feeling of her caressing his cheek and the softness she provides was his safe haven. His erection rests against his stomach, painfully hard between their bodies. The feel of her reaching for it, her small fingers rubbing him over his pants drove him almost over the age and he had a feeling he would not last longer than a quickie. God help him.

He didn't know what came over him as he rose to his feet taking her with him in his arms. Julia yelped, holding onto him tightly around his neck. He didn't waste any time taking advantage of the kitchen's surfaces, placing her down on top of a prep table. He loomed over her, caging her in with his palms flat on the cold aluminum surface. He had visions about things he wanted to do to her, to have her on a table was one of many.

Julia stared up at him with dilated eyes, her hands slid from his neck to rest on his rising chest, he dipped his head to meet her lips. The kiss was intoxicating his senses, the world around them disappeared and she became it.

Fumbling with the belt, not wanting to break the kiss he opted to pull down his zipper instead, freeing himself of the tight confines of his pants. Julia looped her hands around his neck as he began undoing her jeans, and with a grunt he hoisted her onto him, pulling down her jeans in the same motion just enuff to expose her. He put her back down so her butt was right at the edge of the table and her front easy to access. Julia steadied herself, hands flat behind her as he stood between her spread legs, holding them up under her bent knees.

He begins to grind against her, then pulls the hem of her underwear to the side, holding it there to expose her completely to him. Arousal was glistening between her folds, he lobbed himself in it before he aligned himself and slid inside her opening. Julia’s head fell back as he washed himself disappear in and out with every stroke, his length glistening with her arousal. Julia sighs and a few ‘mmh’s’ of pleasure escapes her as he grunts with every push of his hips against her body. Her soft features was filled with pleasure, her mouth agape and he asked,

“Feel good?”

“Yes, yes,” Julia nodded with her eyes closed.

He had learned the angels she liked, the pace she preferred and what made her more vocal. So he fisted her undergarment to push himself deeper as he rubbed circles there with his thumb. Julia reacted heavily in response, her sounds becoming louder. The sound of her wetness filling his ears spurred him on and he pulled her in, cradling the back of her head, kissing her feverishly. He leaned into her further, the kiss deep as his movements. Caging her in with her legs on top of his shoulders he pulls away to watch her. She looked perfect like this, and to know she was enjoying what he was doing to her made him feel a deep pleasure as well feeling the incredible feeling of satisfaction.

He held her hips firmly, pushing himself in and out, and the more he focused on her beauty or her tight walls squeezing him combined with the friction..he was nearing climax faster than he'd like. Guiding her legs back to his sides he lifts her off the table into a stand and carry position, Julia clings onto him, wrapping her arms around his neck for support,

“Daryl, what are you doing?”

“It’s all right,” he calms. “I got yah, just hold onto me.”

“I don’t know Daryl. I- I have never done this before.”

“That’s all right, I’m doing all the work, okay?”

“Okay,” Julia agreed, the trust in her eyes making him want her even more.

Still inside of her he begins thrusting upwards using his hips while keeping his legs fairly straight, wimpers leaves her like never before. His arms carry all her weight as he trusts her up and down his length. The urge to go at full force and release himself had never been as strong as it was now. Desperately he was fighting against it looking up to the ceiling, because he liked to hold it off and be all wet and sweaty by the time he finished. So he tried to think about something unrelated that had nothing to do with him pushing himself inside her body. But his attempt to hold off his climax was almost impossible, the urge to give into that primal desire has him in an inner battle,

Thrust. God she feels good. Thrust. Stop thinking! Thrust. Fuck, she’s so tight. Thrust. Stop thinking, goddammit!

“Fuck, Julia. Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he grunts thrue his movment’s.

Julia was taking him so well, her sounds growing lower and lowder, it was his favorite thing to hear. And if he had known this was what it took to hear her like this - he would have had her in this position sooner.

It wasn't long before her legs began to shake, her arms pulling him into a desperate embrace feeling her near her height of pleasure like he did his own. Her walls began to tighten round him, squeezing him. Then her whimpers stopped as her pelvic muscles contracts vigorously, her body spasming in his arms as pleasure wrecks her body. And just the same blood rushes to his ears, the intense feeling surged through him and he erupts with a guttural growl as he stills inside of her completely.

It was an outer world experience, he had never experienced a climax so intense, it was spiritual in a way. It just lasted for an intense three or five seconds before his body felt completely numb, it was a miracle that he was still standing with her in his arms. A moment of clarity steadied his grip, her body becoming heavy as she completely relaxed against him, her breaths heavy as his own, their chests expanding and retracting angst one another. He felt himself soften inside of her and unwillingly slipped out into the cold air making him miss her warm walls instantly. Julia’s head rests against his shoulder, her breath hitting the crock of his neck and she looked… pale again. He knew he had to find that medecin before her condition worsened. Her eyes were barely opened, he tilted his head down to catch her gaze and he asked softly,

"Hey, you alright?”

Julia nodded tiredly against him in response.

He pleased her down on the table, tucking himself away and kissed the top of her head. Julia leans into it, with his fingers he brushes curls away that had fallen into her face, he worried he had done too much, that he had been too ruff in his moment of desire.

Julia slipped off the table to stand on her feet and pulled her jeans back on, her face becoming just as pale as it was before they had eaten.

“Yah sure, you're pale again,” he points out.

Tilting her chin upwards to cash her gaze, Julia stared up at him as if thinking and he worried that he really had done too much.. but then, a reassuring smile spread across her lips, and she said with that soft tone that filled his lungs with sweetness and made his heart drum,

“You’re so sweet, Daryl.”

And he wondered how someone like her could exist?

“Edison’s Apothecary and boutique,” Julia read out loud.

Daryl banged loudly on the entry, leaning his ear close to the door and listened for any indication a threat was inside, when nun did he began working the lock open with his knife.

Watching from behind she couldn't help but rewind what he had said, and how it made her feel. That he thought she was an angel and even called her…beautiful. Daryl was a passionate lover and a gentle one. The idea of actually telling him was always there, on the tip of her tongue. Telling him she was anemic was true, but it was not the whole truth, it was a white lie. She felt absolutely horrible for not telling him about the little life they had created and it was growing rapidly, each day waking to a bigger stomach.

Julia stared at the back of his head and she reached into her pockets secretly reaching for their baby underneath. Though she knew he wouldn't know if he saw, she was just being paranoid. Maybe it was because she knew she was with child and she could feel the difference there, though she was just over 7 weeks along now, her stomach looked like it was just bloated, like she had eaten a big burrito.

But she would eventually get so big to the point he would know and he would ask. What was she to say then? She didn't know how to go about a situation like this, and she felt very…vonerbulle when so much was at stake and it felt like she was not allowed to think of herself, she was afraid to be selfish and she desperately wanted to fulfill what she was set out to do. But becoming closer along their journey his soft side did not only exist when they made love. It was in the moments when he worried, in his attentive gaze and in the subtle touches true oute the day that made her feel safe. It felt like he genuinely cared for her on a deeper level that secretly made her hope his feelings were one of love, like her own.

Daryl locked back at her and Julia took her hands out of her pockets to adjust her hood.

“Stay back,” Daryl ordered.

Julia washed with a yearning gaze as Daryl swung the door open, his broad frame entering. And oh, how she needed to hear those three syllables of love. Because…if Daryl told her he loved her, she would feel secure enuff to tell him the truth.

“Clear!” Daryl announced.

Julia stepped inside. A wife of a sickening odor makes her stomach turn and a gag escapes her, but she stands against the urge to throw up, forcing the bile down.

“What are you doin’?” Daryl questioned.

“Don’t you smell that?” Julia said, trying not to breathe through her nose.

It was so strong the smell felt loud.

Daryl didn't say anything, he just looked back at her with that unreadable gaze she knew were thoughts behind. Inwardly Julia panicked for just a second, realizing what she just said. But he didn't seem to catch on.

They continued to venture inside the small gift store. Julia shines her flashlight on the counter table, there were polaroid pictures of a happy little boy who couldn't be older than three placed beneath the dusted glass counter. Postcards and souvenirs are stacked on the shelves behind, keychains with names caught her attention. Turning the counter rack until her eyes landed upon a familiar name, her heart ached with a forgotten sadness in her chest.

There were so many people she never had gotten to say goodbye to that was gone.

She moved on to Daryl who was working a counter shutter open, shining her flashlight upon the big letters above.

Pharmacy, it read.

The counter shutter rolled up revealing a small rome stocked with medication. Daryl jumped up and over the counter, Julia followed. Inside Daryl begins skimming true the bottles and askes,

“What did yah take for anemia?”

Julia wrecks true her brain, trying to remember what her mother used to get her and then she remembered,

“Vitamin-B12, folic acid or just iron pills.”

“Allwright, there should be here somewhere,” he mumbles as he goes through the bottles on the shelves, reading each etiquette intently before placing it back and moving on to the next.

Jullia looked around herself but she wasnt searching for anything really dreading the idea of having to take any sort of medicine again. She had an aversion for it, or more so had grown to hate it. But it was her own fault having shared that she was anemic and did not have the guts to tell him what she was planning to and this time she was the closest to actually saying it, but just the same she got scared.

An open shelf cabinet stands between them and she can hear Daryl on the other side continue going to true bottles of pills as he grumbles incoherently to himself. The smell was even stronger in this part of the store and she felt like she was on the constant verge of gagging and at the same time felt drawn to know where it came from.

“Yah, finding anything?” Daryl askes.

“No, nothing,” she answered.

Julia felt bad, she wasn't even looking. But as her eyes wandered they landed on a small bottle of misoprostol. Looking at it closely there was a clear warning for pregnant women wich caught her attention and on the contrationing/warning, it read,

:Do not take if you are pregnant and do not become pregnant while taking this medicine because it can cause miscarriage…

That was the only thing she needed to know what this was and what it could be used for. And Julia had known she had to find a pharmacy and here she was face to face with that choice. It was important to her to feel free to take medication if she so desired. And If the world never ended and she found herself in this situation in the state of Georgia, where it was illegal to perform any attempt of abortion after six weeks, she would be committing a felony, punishable by sentence of imprisonment up to 5 years. Knowing that no pharmacist could refuse to give her the drug nor be questioned for what she was going to use it for felt freeing just as much as it terrified her.

The thought of bringing innocence into the world of uncertainty and chaos, where evil lurks in every corner, where one wrong step was death or worse feels overwhelming. Wanting to do the right thing was hard when she didn't know what the right thing was. Was she evil if she ended the pregnancy or was it cruel of her to keep it?

A loud thud caught their attention, halting them in what they were doing. Daryl moved to the counter and listened to the sound that repeated. Julia was quick to hide the misoprostol in her pocket, gauging him if it was a treat or not.

“Sounds like it’s stuck,” Daryl said.

“Walker?” Julia asked, leaning over the counter trying to see where the noise came from.

“Yeah,” Daryl affirmed, going back to what he was doing.

The sound continued, and she didn't know if it was curiosity or the feeling of uneasiness that something else was in there with them that led her feet to investigate. Carefully she exited the pharmacy. Her heart was pounding in her throat as she shined the flashlight on the backroom door. Her gut screamed danger but continued through the door that stands ajar and she went inside the dark room with her knife in hand. The source of the bad smell was somewhere in here, the air was moist and shining the flashlight along the dirty floor she could see kids comic’s littering the floor. Beginning to feel that urge to vomit she forced herself to continue further led by the flashlight revealing a worn crib that was left empty. Empty boxes are mesley stacked against the wall, and the wall looks damaged, the wight paint withering away and peeling off. Big spots of black mold grow along it, like a dark trail of spots.

Julia flinches and turns hastily to a sound beside her. A female walker with a broken leg leys on the ground barely moving, her jaw gone and her body and clothes almost fully decomposed. HUSH, HUSH, HUSH, is written on the wall and to her absolute horror, a baby's shoe floats in a sink filled with bloody fluid.

Her heart sank to her stomach and she pieced everything together. They had been smelling… that little boy she had seen from the counter, the same shoe floating in the sink. His own mother had smothered her baby to death, presumably from walkers hearing the crying and trying to get in, explaining the handprints outside.

Julia stumbled backwards out of the room knocking over souvenirs that crashed to the floor.

“What the hell you doing?!” Daryl emerged from his surge, but when he looked at her his eyes changed and his tone softend, “Hey, what's wrong?”

No words came out instead her stomach lurched and her hand clasped over her mouth. She bolted outside, her chest burned as stomach acid rose up and down on to the pavement. Standing hunched over with hands on her knees to steady herself she spitted to rid her mouth of the foul taste, feeling how her throat was strained and hurt from the intense force. Feeling herself on the verge of blacking out she tried to focus on breathing and slowly the outside world came back. The white noise recedes to give way to bird song, the sun warming her face and feeling of the refreshing touch of the autumn breeze steadies her. The distant call for her name became clearer, she focused on that, his familiar touch grounding her.

Daryl was holding her firmly by the shoulders, his blue eyes filled with a desperation she had never seen before. He guided her to stand up from her hunched over position, then pulled the hood over her head, reaching out and taking her hair and tucking it away. She watched with eyes that glimmered and a face that must be noticeably unwell as she felt. Daryl stared into her eyes for a moment causing her chin to wobble. She tried to speak, but her voice was shaking so much she could hardly get the words out,

“There was…she…”

“I know, I know,” Daryl soothed softly.

She knew he must have seen it too by the look on his face, but he didn't know the full extent to her reaction to such a horrifying sight. If she kept the baby would it only live so shortly to meet such a gruesome end? To smother one's baby to death because it was either that or watch it be eaten alive, because…a baby didn't know how to be quiet?

Daryl pushed his water into her hand but she denied it weekly.

“You need to drink,” he insisted.

But she denied it again with a shake of her head. Even the thought of a sip of water made her nauseous - then she looked up at him with pleading eyes that burned,

“Hold me, please hold me.”

Daryl enveloped her into a soothing embrace, her head tucked beneath his chin and he held her there tightly to himself. The sound of his heart against her ear and the calming strokes on her back calms her as she breathes him in. The hug communicates a deep empathy, there was no need for words, just him and only him at this moment. And Julia had decided what she needed to do, what she had dreaded and felt so torn between.

A deep sadness fills her heart by the weight of her choice, but it was the right thing. The possibility of such a cruel end had awoken a deep fear for their unborn child, so before they went to bed she excused herself to do her business further in the woods from where they had set up camp for the night.

Julia sits on the forest floor with two pills in her palm and a bottle of water in the other. She inhales a shaky breath before popping them into her mouth, swallowing down with water. For a moment she sits there and lets it sink in…but was this what she truly wanted? The sound of leaves blowing in the wind and the last birdsong singing she took a breath, in and out trying to soothe some of that anxiety. Looking down at the medecin in her hand a deep regret settels in her stomach and her invoice screamed,

No, what have I done..What have I done.

In her panic she forces fingers down her throat, making herself vomit out the pills she had swallowed. Sitting there in the moss covered ground she realized that truly she wanted to keep the baby and she had known that all along. Putting a hand against her stomach as she closed her eyes she imagined hearing its heartbeat and how it would be to see it on a screen of a ultrasound.

“Sorry, my little one. I’m never gonna do anything that’s gonna harm you again, I promise,” she whispered to the baby.

“What are you doing?” a deep voice startled her from behind.

Julia recognised it as Daryl. He walked up to her, making her fumble with the bottle, hiding it away and spilling some of the pills in the process that she hid with moss just in time before he could notice.

“Nothing,” she lied, standing on her feet. “I just tripped on my way back.”

His blue eyes searched hers, narrowing to the water bottle in her hand but he didn't say anything. Instead he walked her back to camp and they settled into their sleeping bags, his arms holding her just as tightly as when he had embraced her. And even though she felt the safest in his arms, enveloped by his protective warmth she couldn't find the courage to tell him. The fear of Daryl's reaction scared her deeply.

Because he wouldn't let her continue with their journey, surely. He wouldn't want her around...Whether it be because of selfish reasons or because he felt she would be in

unnecessary danger. She felt he would be the type to view pregnancy as a time of fragility...He already treated her like she couldn't protect herself and she knew if he wanted to he would hide her from the world. Maybe she was spyreling but that was how it had felt when he said she needed to cover herself up, to not bring any unwanted attention. And she knew he only did what he thought was right, that he didn't know any better.

And with that thought she drifts away, too tired to fight sleep any longer.

Part 13 masterlist

[post-apocalyptic-fantasy-au]

Tango's room was... not a cell, exactly. It was comfortable, and he had all the books and trinkets and furniture he wanted. He'd painted the walls himself, in fiery sunrise colours to match him, and the carpet was soft enough that his toes sank into it when he walked around. He even had his own separate bathroom with no cameras in. But the only window was a mirror on his side of the wall, and the door locked from the outside, and cameras near the ceiling monitored his every move, and he was only allowed to leave when one of the many scientists interested in him decided he could, and even then, he never left the lab.

Still, it was all he knew, and he'd learnt as a kid to make do with a little.

Besides, it's not like the scientists were bad to him, not anymore. After 105 years, he'd become a sort of mascot to the palace labs, and it was taboo among the scientists to mistreat him. The tests, while annoying, never hurt, and for the ones that did they provided him with powerful anesthetics that made him loopy and completely numb.

The tests themselves varied. They took cells from all over his body for the geneticists and microbiologists. They took samples from his scalp for the chemists trying to figure out how the fire on his head works. They tested how his body reacted to various types of radiation for the radiologists. The list went on and on, even after 105 years, of things they didn't know about him and wanted to find out.

He'd outlived four kings already, and more scientists than he could count, and they were no closer to discovering how much longer he was suspected to live. He still felt as lively as ever, so the general consensus was that he still had quite a while.

He was sitting at his desk, fiddling with the mess of wires and parts between his hands, when the door opened.

Tango looked up, confused, and saw Cub standing in the door frame.

"More tests?" Tango frowned. He'd already sat through a whole host of tests that morning; he thought he'd be free for the rest of the day.

"No quite," Cub told him.

He was a man on the shorter, rounder side, but you wouldn't notice, not with everything else going on with him. Cub was the lead geneticist in the lab, and often conducted many of his experiments on himself. As such, he had a pair of tattered wings too small to be anything more than decoration, borrowed from the genes of a feathered dragon; a full set of sharp teeth not dissimilar from Tango's own, with which Tango had seen Cub snap a bone in half, borrowed from a mermaid; and pitch black hair and eyes, as well as traces of death magic, from a dark elf. He was the only person Tango knew who was older than him, though no one knew which race Cub had gotten the longevity from. While he was by no means human anymore, he got away with walking freely around the palace without hiding any part of himself by being a perfect mix of friendly, unsettling and indispensable.

It was Cub who had first combined the DNA of a pygmy dragon with that of a human, resulting in an infant with a mix of human and dragon traits, ie, Tango himself.

Cub studied Tango for a second with those almost soulless eyes, before announcing, "The king is dead. The new queen has ordered that all Vis being held against their will in the palace be released."

Tango blinked, reeling. "What?" The king was dead? He'd only been crowned a few years ago - that had to be some kind of record for shortest rule of the era. And the new queen...

Tango had met her once. Rebecca Argnum. She'd come to the lab the day before she disappeared two and a half months ago, and she'd sworn that she'd help him see the world some day. Tango hadn't put much thought into it - her brother was still young, after all, so by the time he died, he would have children of his own, and Rebecca wouldn't be next in line anymore - but still, it had been an tantalizing prospect ever since. Now that it was suddenly a possibility - not just that, but a reality - he didn't know what to do.

Finally, he managed to get a question out of his brain and into his mouth. "What about Torchy?"

"Last I checked, he's still a Vis, too. He's as free as you are."

"But can he come with me?"

"If he wants to."

"Where is he?"

Cub eyed him up a moment longer, before smiling smugly, pointed teeth on display. "I sent Doc to fetch him. He's on his way."

Relief pulled Tango's shoulders downwards. Torchy, the pygmy dragon that half of his DNA came from, was usually in his room with him, but he'd been taken out earlier that morning for reasons no one would explain to Tango, and hadn't yet returned.

With the first of Tango's questions answered, the rest started spilling out. "Where do I go?"

"Wherever you want."

"Where am I allowed to go?"

"Wherever they'll have you."

"What happened to the king?"

"A group of rebels killed him."

Good.

Before the next question could make itself known, Doc M stepped up behind Cub, a tiny, writhing mass of red-gold scales twisted around his cybernetic arm.

"Torchy!" Tango grinned.

The dragon lifted his head, spotted Tango, and pushed off of Doc's arm, with a happy growl of, "Tongo!" Torchy struggled more with speech than most pygmy dragons, and often his words came out garbled. Most of the time, no one besides Tango had any idea what he was saying.

Torchy reached him and settled on his shoulders, twining happily around his neck.

"Don't use me as your errand boy again," Doc snapped to Cub, though Tango knew he wasn't actually mad.

Doc seemed intimidating to those that didn't know him, because he was abnormally tall, had a resting scowl and held a grudge like a champion, but those who actually knew him knew he was really a big softie. He was the chief engineer in the lab, often working side-by-side with the geneticists, and was almost as strange to look at as Cub. An undercover mountain nymph, he took great care to conceal his the goat-ish parts of him: he wore his dark hair long and hid both it and the goat's horns the hair didn't quite conceal under a cap. His skin was more grey than pink, and he had a goat-like beard growing from his chin. Much of the right side of his body had been replaced by bionics, leaving him with a glowing red eye, an arm rather more "muscular" than the other, and a limp due to his right leg being human-shaped and his left being goat-shaped. No one knew what had happened for him to require the additions, and whenever someone asked, he always refused to explain. Doc was the oldest person in the lab, apart from Cub, and took orders from no one except Cub and the king himself.

Although, it was probably the queen herself now, Tango reasoned.

Everything Tango knew about engineering and electronics, he had learnt from Doc. Everything Tango knew about genetics and biology in general, he had learnt from Cub. In return, Tango didn't put up a fight when they wanted to do any sort of test, even the uncomfortable ones. The three had formed an unlikely crew of mutual benefits and mix-and-match bodies.

Doc held out his flesh arm, a messenger bag swinging from it. "I got you food and some real clothes - you can't wear Cub's old lab coat in public."

Tango looked down at the lab coat he wore. It was scorched from where he'd lost his temper a few times, stained from where he'd spilled seadust on it, and torn from both his and Torchy's claws. Cub had gifted it to him years ago, after the previous lab coat got incinerated due to events entirely unrelated to Tango's flames, he swears it.

"Thanks," he said, accepting the bag from Doc. He flicked it open and peered inside. All he could really identify from the pile of folded clothes was a dark grey vest, though he definitely saw both yellow and red fabric beneath.

"Go get changed, then you can throw some of your things in the bag and we'll walk you out," Cub told him, gesturing at the bathroom door.

"Got it."

*

Half an hour later, Tango was standing at the palace's side gate with Torchy coiled around his arm, Cub on his left and Doc on his right.

He'd filled the messenger bag with books, seadust and seadust-related components, and as much of both his and Torchy's hordes - a small collection of gears and springs for Torchy, and a handful of pieces of wood he carved himself for Tango - as possible.

Tango loved the outfit Doc had picked out for him - though part of it was, of course, due the fact that he had never had real clothes before: in the summer, the lab coat sufficed, and in the winter he burrowed under the blankets and slept most of the time.

But he had real clothes now. The long-sleeved yellow shirt was tight enough to keep wind out and heat in, and the grey vest he wore over it was buttoned all the way down to keep it from flapping around. A pair of thick, baggy trousers made his thin legs look far bigger than they really were, fuzzy grey boots kept his feet warm, and fluffy bands around his wrists kept his hands from freezing off. Without the carefully warmed conditions of his room in the lab keeping him just the right temperature, added measures were a must to ensure he didn't freeze; as such, a long, thick, black coat lined on the inside with blue fur was hung neatly over the bag, ready for when it was needed.

Tango only hoped it was enough.

"Keep walking east," Cub was telling him. "You'll reach the Subsol Woods in about two days, if you make good speed."

"To du?! Toy cu wok to du!" Torchy protested.

"You won't be doing any walking," Tango reminded the little dragon, holding up his arm to look him in the eye. "You'll probably barely even do any flying, for void's sake!"

Doc chuckled, but then sobered up quick. "Just make sure you ration your food and don't eat it all at once. In the woods, you'll find both a faerie and an elf camp, though you'll probably come across the elves first. Tell them Meyer sent you, they'll take care of you."

Right. Tango kept forgetting that "Doc" wasn't the engineer's real name.

"Got it," Tango nodded.

"Good luck," Cub said.

Tango took a deep breath, and took his first step out of the castle gate.

"WAIT!" a voice called before he could take a second.

They all turned to see a young woman - barely more than a girl, really - running towards them. The queen.

"Thank goodness, I was worried I'd missed you," Queen Rebecca panted when she reached them.

She'd been crying; Tango saw the red rings around her pale brown eyes right away. If it weren't for that, though, it would have been impossible to tell. Her red-gold hair still lay in perfect waves, her back was still pencil straight, her head still held high. A queen through and through.

"Your majesty," Cub and Doc said together, bowing.

Wordlessly, Tango copied the motion.

The young queen waved her hand at him. "Ah, no need for that. Once you're outside those gates, you're officially free - you're barely even under my rule anymore."

"Oh," Tango said, because what else was he supposed to say?

"I wanted to give you this before you go." The queen held out a small drawstring pouch.

"What is it?" Tango asked curiously, taking it and weighing it in his hand. It was heavier than he expected, considering how little it seemed to hold.

"Something that'll help you later - trust me, it's saved my life more than once."

Tango started to open the pouch, but the queen hurriedly said, "No, no! Wait until you're alone."

Tango frowned. "Why?"

"It's..." She hesitated. "It's the sort of thing best opened in private."

"Right." Tango nodded, like that made any sense at all.

As he was tucking the pouch into the messenger bag, she went on, "I also wanted to wish you luck. I told you I'd get you out, and I did."

"Thank you," Tango said, and meant it with his whole heart.

Finally, finally he was getting to see the world.

He turned back to the city beyond the gate. He'd have to navigate that before he even reached the plains that stood between here and the Subsol Woods, but he'd memorised many, many maps of the country in his time, including one of the city as it currently stands. He didn't think he'd have much, if any difficulty with it.

After another deep breath, he took his second step out into the world.

And just like that, he was walking, a free male, his best friend on his arm and a mystery pouch in his bag, and Doc's call to "be careful!" in his ears.

He had no idea where he was going or who he would meet, but he was prepared. He was more than prepared - he was ready.