#red keeper: this wasn’t part of my planned character progression

[bi-hop]

Can you even call him the father who stepped up?

[2-cute-4-school]

𝓠𝓾𝓲𝓭𝓭𝓲𝓽𝓬𝓱 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓒𝓱𝓸𝓬𝓸𝓵𝓪𝓽𝓮

Group : NCT

Pairing : Griffyndor! Mark Lee x gn! Reader 

Genre : hp au, rivals to lovers, light angst to absolute fluff

Word count : 4.4K words   |    M.list

Warnings : injury, swearing

Summary :  ‘He had nightmares of you slipping right past his fingers and him failing to catch you. He relives that moment.’

a/n: thank you for 1000 followers you absolute cuties!! sending lots of smooches and snuggles your way!!

“Aren’t you going to ask how the coolest champion is feeling about tomorrow’s match?”

You watched Donghyuck, your fellow housemate and best friend since you first stepped onto the Hogwarts train, expectantly. He spared you a quick glance as he plopped down beside you on the couch in your shared common room, too busy to munch on his chocolate frog to give you any further attention. 

“I’ve already asked Mark.”

You would like to be able to say you were surprised at his answer, but his teasing character has become an usual by now

It still baffled you how you managed to even tolerate each other, much less get to share a bond as deep as the one you developed along the years. You two had next to nothing in common other than your cunning wit. While Donghyuck delved deep into his love for astronomy, which you despised with a burning fervor, you dedicated your time to Quidditch entirely. 

You loved the sport dearly, it offered you that adrenaline rush you were born to chase, that quickened heartbeat as you rushed to catch the Golden Snitch. You spent every spare moment you could find in your hectic schedule on the pitch with the wind threading through strands of your hair and your hands clenched so tightly onto your broomstick your knuckles turn white. And you adored every second of that. But what you definitely didn’t adore was Mark Lee.

“And worst best friend award goes to surprise surprise Lee Donghyuck!”

He shrugged unimpressed by your weak attack and focuses back on his damned frog.

Mark Lee. Unfortunately for your sanity, you had to see him almost as often as you decided to practice on your own. If there was one thing you shared with him and you respected him for was his own commitment to Quidditch. More often that not, you’d have to share the pitch with him in your spare time, taunting each other for the entire period of time you spent practicing. He was the beloved Seeker of Gryffindor, their pride and joy and your rival ever since you were both accepted in your respective teams.

“So what’s your score against him?”

“It’s a draw.”

Yes, you were that petty. You and Mark kept the score on how many times you defeated each other in matches. It didn’t actually matter which team actually won, the only thing that mattered for your childish competition was who managed to catch the Golden Snitch.

“That’s why you’re so tense?”

“Bingo, smartpants.”

“What even is the big deal about your little game? It’s not like either of you actually gets something out of this.”

“I gain the right to stick my win in his face and vice versa.”

Teasing between you and Mark often stretched your patience to its maximum and ended up in one of you snapping like a chord under pressure. Donghyuck shivered as he remembered the final match of your fourth year when your house lost against Gryffindor due to Mark catching the Snitch before you. He could vividly remember the blood rushing through his veins in fear at the sight of you battling Mark shoulder to shoulder at a dangerous speed, arm stretched out so far he believed you’d topple over at any moment.

He doesn’t want a repeat of the miserable image of you he saw at the time, a defeated you, slumped on the bench in your changing room, head lowered in ultimate shame and disappointment as bitter tears rolled off your face, splashing against the floor as Donghyuck watched worriedly through the half opened door. Mark had really done a number on you that day.

“You have to win, Y/N.”

“Why the sudden change of heart, wasn’t our competition meaningless for your highness?”

“I don’t give a frog’s toe about your competition, but I want to spend time time with you this summer. And not just to watch you practice until you drop.”

You scoffed. You knew that he was referring to the summer after your horrifying defeat against Mark. Donghyuck could barely get a hold of you since you spent all day on your broom, tiring yourself out to your limit.

“Don’t worry, I don’t plan on losing.”

~

“Already wetting your pants, Y/L/N?”

You didn’t have to turn around to put a face to the taunting voice behind you.

“I don’t know, Lee, should I? You must know since you have more experience than me.”

Mark’s face scrunched up at the reminder of his first year when he lost control of his broom and he quite literally saw his life flash before his eyes. Not very Gryffindor from his part.

“Whatever, we both know how this is about to end. Save your cheap defense until after this final. My team will win this year’s tournament and I’ll beat you individually too.”

The reminder of the stakes of this match weren’t soothing your nerves at all, especially mere hours before you were facing Mark on the pitch. You curled your fists and kept a straight face, not daring to show him any weakness from your side.

“Shove that pointless confidence up your ass until you prove you’re worthy of it, Lee.”

“Oh so fourth year isn’t enough proof?”

The corner of your lips twitched and your eyes narrowed. zeroing on his tense featured in a chilling glare.

“You said matches don’t count, didn’t you? You were the one insisting that you didn’t consider anything a victory other than catching the Snitch before me. And in that aspect, last I verified, we’re equals.”

His lips moved soundlessly, trying to come up with a retort, but you didn’t spare him enough time to come up with anything, turning on your heels and marching away to meet Donghyuck.

“You’ll see, Y/L/N, you’ll never be my equal.”

His voice followed you tauntingly through the busy corridors, your rushed footsteps taking you anywhere but close to the only person who could make your blood boil.

~

It took three pep talks and four ‘friendly’ attacks of your personal space from Donghyuck to make you gather your spirits and stop the tremors shaking up your entire body. He walked you to the changing room’s door, patting you roughly on the back one last time

“Give your best, I’ll be watching from the stands. I trust that you won’t let me get bored. Also, remember that if you lose you’re sleeping on the mat in front of the entrance in our common room.”

And with that he skipped away, hurried to find a good spot in the stands that were already starting to fill up with students. You sigh, used to his weird way of encouraging you and stepped inside the room, greeting Jungwoo, your captain and your fellow teammates, starting to change into your Quidditch uniform.

As soon as you set foot on the familiar pitch, your eyes met Mark’s who stood straight and proud side by side with his own captain sporting his Gryffindor red cape and holding his broom, the newest Nimbus model.

You Keeper was talking your ear off about the ‘amazingly efficient’ polish he found, but you couldn’t seem to rip your gaze away from Mark who in turn seemed to burn through you with his gaze. He threw you a smirk as if provoking you to lose your cool. But you decided you wouldn’t allow him the satisfaction.

The stands were already roaring to life. Any match between you and Mark was very sought after by everyone in your school due to the intensity it held each time. Despite the already loudness surrounding the pitch, one high pitched screech couldn’t help but catch your attention.

“KICK SOME ASS, Y/N! Or the mat is waiting for you!”

Count on Donghyuck to be the embarrassing mom rooting for you at her child’s every sport event. You shoot him a warning look to which he only responded with an over dramatic wink and an even louder ’whoop’. You could only sigh, appreciating his support despite your lack of reaction to it.

“I’ll kick your ass, Lee Donghyuck.”

You muttered, trying to stop the smile forming on your lips. A snort came from the side, making your head snap in its direction.

“Try your best, Y/LN, too bad you’ll still disappoint lover boy over there.”

“Jealous, Lee?”

“You wish.”

Madam Hooch interrupted your banter with a shrill whistle, stepping in between the two teams while holding the Quaffle.

“Alright, boys and girls, mount your brooms.”

Within seconds all players were high in the air, adrenaline pumping through your veins, your heated gaze locked with Mark’s. It became kind of a tradition between the two of you, intense stare downs before the official start of the game. Madam Hooch’s voice which carried the same words every time sounded far away as she bent down, ready to throw the Quaffle.

“Alright, I want a clean and fair game, hear me? Good luck and may the best win.”

The long deafening whistle signified the start of the match and Chasers whizzed past you, speeding towards the Quaffle. You and Mark broke eye contact, each of you getting immersed in the game, your sole focus being on catching sight of the Golden Snitch.

The weather worsened as the game progressed, the unpredictable May weather acting up. The clouds darkened, completely shutting out any ray of sunshine trying to sneak past them, a thickening fog suffocating the school grounds. Slowly but surely, what started as a few scattered rain drops soon turned into a full blown storm, a cold shower falling atop of you, the harsh wind whipping your capes back and forth. The stands were barely visible, the cheers from below inaudible over the wind and the players’ yells.

If it wasn’t hard enough already to spot the small, golden ball, now it seemed close to impossible. You could make out Mark’s silhouette flying around, but you didn’t linger any longer on him, focused on catching sight of the Snitch. Bludgers were flying everywhere, the Beaters’ efficiency decreasing because of the lack of visibility, another worry to add to the list.

Gryffindor was in the lead with 20 points, the score remaining tight as the match dragged on and on. You had already been playing for a while, your uniforms were already soaked and your skin paling from the biting cold of the unforgiving rain, but the conditions only spurred you further. You had to catch the Snitch.

Just as your patience was running thin, you caught sight of a fast-moving golden spot, hovering on the sidelines. Without a second thought, you sped towards it, your surroundings blurring as your eyes focused solely on the already moving Snitch. Mark noticed your forceful actions immediately, whizzing past the others players and nearing you.

“And Y/L/N seems to have finally spotted the Golden Snitch! Both Seekers are bolting after it, I can barely keep track of them!”

The crowd exploded, cheering louder than ever, but you couldn’t hear anything, pushing yourself to the limit as Mark caught up to you and you battled side by side once again. The Snitch seemed to be angrier than ever, jerking furiously at every corner, but you didn’t let yourself be caught by surprise, keeping up with it.

Until it started speeding in a straight line, stopping its irregular twists and turns and you knew that was your chance. You flew at top speed, stretching your hand in front of you so much that your muscles almost protested and Mark followed suit. You were shoulder to shoulder with him, subtly knocking into each other in an attempt to make the other lose their balance.

“Move! It’s mine!”

His hoarse voice yelled right by your year, only making you grit your teeth harder.

“Fuck off, Lee!”

Your fingertips were a breath away from the Snitch, Mark’s arm pressing into yours, the cold wind biting at your cheeks. Desperately, you shifted your weight from your bottom to the hand clutching your broomstick, leaning forward on your arm and before Mark could react, you lurched forward slightly, encasing the running object in the palm of your hand, clutching it so tightly it left marks into the skin, but you didn’t care. 

You did it. You caught the Golden Snitch.

“Y/N!”

Before you could regain your stance, a Bludger knocked into your broom forcefully. With your already unsteady grip on the broomstick, you toppled over in an instant, the broom slipping from under you, but you didn’t dare unclench the fingers trapping the Snitch in your hand.

Mark’s desperate yell seemed to be the only sound echoing in your ears as you plummeted. The last thing you saw before you knocked loudly into the ground with a sickening crack were Mark’s distressed features, a hand stretched to its full extent in front of him as he rushed to get a hold of you, your own outstretched fingers slipping right past his.

~

Surprisingly, as soon as you managed to crack your eyes open you weren’t hit with a blinding light. It still seemed to take a great effort to keep them open for longer than a second, your hand twitching in an attempt to bring it to cover your sensitive eyes, but being stopped by a weight forcing it down. 

“Y/N?”

You groaned, scrunching up your face as soreness hit your body full force at your attempt to move.

“Merlin, Y/N, can you open your eyes?”

You could recognize Donghyuck’s voice anywhere, but the almost desperate tone he used was quite foreign to you.

“Come on, babe, open your eyes. Madam Pomfrey! ”

You realized the weight on your hand were actually his fingers which now squeezed yours encouragingly as his other hand came up to smooth strands of your hair away from your face. You clenched your teeth, forcing an eye open.

“Stop fucking yelling, punk.”

At your annoyed retort, he let out a relieved sigh, wrapping his arms gently around you while trying not to jostle you too much.

“Thank Merlin, you’re back.”

After Madam Pomfrey checked on you and updated you on your injuries which were a bit more serious than you expected, she left you with Donghyuck once again. He leaned back in his chair, a lot more relaxed than in the past days he’s had to spend by your bedside. You furrowed your eyebrows.

“The match. We won the match right?”

Donghyuck snorted as your first question was about Quidditch instead of your own health, but it didn’t even surprise him anymore.

“Yes, you crazy hag, you won.”

“Yes! We did it! We won!”

You’ve never felt more relieved in your entire life. You finally proved to yourself that all the time and work you’ve put into Quidditch wasn’t for nothing. And if this was the elevation you’d feel after winning cups, you were ready to spend the rest of your youth chasing the Snitch.

“You should eat some chocolate, gain your energy back.”

Now that he mentioned it, you finally focused on your nightstand that overflowed with sweets. You grabbed the closest one, a chocolate frog, not hesitating to stuff it all in your mouth and collect the card inside. Another Nicolas Flamel, you already had two of those. 

“Those are a lot.”

“Tell me about it. Don’t worry, I’ll help you finish them.”

“I don’t doubt that.”

“Hyuck, tell me, did Jungwoo cry?”

“Should’ve seen him, like a baby. I’m pretty sure he filled half of that cup with snot-”

“Ewww, I didn’t need all the gross details. Ah, I’m sorry for missing that. And Lee’s face, I bet I’d sleep like a baby for the next 10 years if I had the chance to see that.“

Donghyuck’s lips were suddenly pulled into a smirk, eyes glinting with a dangerous mischief.

“You should see one of your beaters, damn nice nose Mark delivered.”

Your munching slowed down, gulping down the sweetness loudly.

“What do you mean? Did that petty git start a fight?”

“Wouldn’t say it was out of pettiness actually.”

Mark was the first to land beside your crumpled figure, dismounting his broom faster than ever and crouching hurriedly before you. His hand ghosted over your cold cheek, too scared to touch you in case he did more harm than good. His shaking pupils fixated on you, running a hundred miles per hour over your face, hoping, praying that you’d open your eyes and celebrate in his face.

“Hey, wake up, don’t play games on the pitch, you already won! Y/L/N!”

Mark knew deep inside that you had no games left to play after a fall like that, but it was his first time seeing you so small, so hurt, so defeated despite the shining Golden Snitch still clutched loosely in your limp hand. It scared him.

“Bloody hell, wake up! Madam Hooch! Help! Anyone, help!”

His head snapped around trying to catch sight of anyone coming to your aid, eyes scanning through the fog crazily. The rain seemed to fall faster and faster, the chill settling deep into your bones. Exhausted, Mark lowered his head in defeat, his forehead gently leaning on yours, his nose nudging against yours. One of his hands still touched your cheek, lightly caressing it, thumb running over the apple of your cheek as his other hand curled into a fist against the ground.

Jungwoo landed next, almost tripping over his broom as he rushed over to you and knelt next to you, opting to ignore the position Mark was in and focus on your well being. Mark’s head didn’t even turn as he spoke lowly.

“Do something for Merlin’s sake. Get Madam Hooch, or Pomfrey! Anyone dammit, just to something!”

Mark raised himself at the lack of response from Jungwoo who seemed rotten to his spot, freezing at the sight of you.

“Are you deaf?! Fucking help!”

That seemed to snap Jungwoo out of his frozen state as he jumped to his feet, sprinting towards the stand where teachers usually stayed during matches. One by one, your teams landed and gathered near you as Mark’s yells of help guided them to you.

“Merlin, that doesn’t look good.”

Mark’s burning gaze settled on your beater who stood a few meters away, leaning on his broom.

“It would have looked better if you did your part right.”

The beater rolled his eyes at Mark’s harsh remark.

“Relax, man, I just wasn’t playing attention for a moment.”

“And you think that’s a proper excuse?!”

Mark was fired up by now, lifting himself to his feet as one of your Chasers, a year younger than you crouched by your side, gripping your hand. He sauntered over, coming face to face with the beater who didn’t seem that interested.

“I’m just saying it’s not my fault their own incompetence landed themselves in the hospital wing, I’m not pulling anyone’s wight al-”

He didn’t get to finish his mocking words as Mark’s fist met his nose with a loud crunch, Mark’s powerful swing sending him to the ground as blood started dripping from his nose steadily.

“Don’t you ever talk about Y/N like that. Not ever again. If I hear one bad word about them coming out of your worthless mouth, I’ll hex you into next year. You’ll never be half of the player Y/N already is, remember your place, asshole.”

Madam Hooch was already tending to you by the time Mark turned back to you, deeming it safe enough for you to be moved to the hospital wing. Donghyuck, who sprinted out of the stand as soon as he heard your name coming out of Jungwoo’s mouth, held your head in his lap, smoothed down your hair, pushing away wet strands that covered your eyes.

Mark strode over to you, taking off his cap and laying it over your body as he slotted an arm under your legs, his other coming around your back. He lifted your body, cradling you against his chest as Donghyuck also stood up to fix your position in Mark’s arms into a more comfortable one.

“Off to the hospital wing,now. Quick, quick, quick!”

Mark didn’t waste another moment before he hurried inside the castle with you in his hold and Donghyuck quick on his heels.

“Mark Lee stood up for me? The same Mark Lee who hates my guts since we first got in our Quidditch teams?”

“Do you know another Mark Lee? Maybe he didn’t hate you that much after all, or…not at all. After all, all these chocolate frogs are from him, said something about seeing you exchange some cards with his Griffyndor friend in class or something.”

“He visited?”

“We wouldn’t be able to get rid of him sometimes. He opened up to me once when we met outside the door trying to sneak in one night.”

“Why were you even sneaking in?”

“I was bored, okay? I had no one to tire me out during the day.”

“Hey!”

“Anyway, he said he had nightmares of you slipping right past his fingers and him failing to catch you. He relives that moment.”

“Did it really affect him that much? Accidents happen all the time.”

“Not to you, Y/N.”

“Maybe, but I’m just another player from the opposite team., right? …Do you think he…?”

Donghyuck brought a hand up to his head, massaging his temples as he sighed with annoyance.

“You’re too dense.”

“How could I have known? ”

“Look, just talk to him as soon as you can. That boy needs to finally sleep properly, even my grandma’s bag has a lighter color than his eye bags.”

You just nodded, a bit skeptic.

You were discharged on that same day. Jungwoo almost cried again when you met in the common room, hugging you tightly, praising and scolding you at the same time with a brotherly smile.

You first saw Mark Lee in the halfway, after your Potions class. He was sitting on the ledge of a large window, staring seemingly into space. Donghyuck’s words echo in your mind as you decide to approach him and hop onto the space beside him, settling comfortable against the window behind you.

“Woah, Lee, Donghyuck was right, you could really use some concealer.”

Mark jostled as if he only noticed you now. His wide doe eyes racked over your smiling face and he seemed to panic internally.

“Whe-When did you get here? Why are you out of bed?”

“Because I was discharged?”

“What? Since when?”

“Earlier today.”

“Oh…”

He cleared his throat awkwardly, eyes running wild everywhere but in your direction. You chuckled.

“It’s okay, I already know how much the almighty Mark Lee worried over poor little me.”

Mark scoffed, his embarrassed behavior vanishing. 

“Don’t get ahead of yourself. I see that hit to your head didn’t help with your sharp tongue, disappointingly.”

He swiftly moved away, starting to walk away from you until your hand clasped around his wrist, stopping him mid step.

“Wait, I just… I wanted to thank you.”

Mark seemed confused now, turning back to you with furrowed eyebrows.

“Thank me? What for?”

“Standing up for me and uh, you know, taking care of me.”

Mark’s face darkened at the memory of your beater.

“That git was just asking for it and I barely did anything.”

“Then at least let me repay you for the chocolate frogs you brought me.”

Now he seemed to choke on a confused ‘huh?’ with a bewildered expression that just melted your otherwise cocky demeanor.

“W-what? How-”

Mark’s words died in his throat as you slotted your lips against his in a teasing kiss, your hand holding the nape of his next affectionately and pulling him closer you. Mark took a few moments to realize it was actually happening in reality, not just an illusion from the lack of sleep. His hands came up to your waist, wrapping you in his embrace and pulling you against him impossibly closer. Years of pushed down passion and longing were exchanged in that moment, dizzying both of you.

As you pulled away from each other for air, Mark could taste the faint sweetness of chocolate on his lips. He smiled and his whole rival image turned into a lovesick teenage boy with a smile brighter than the sun. He laughed quietly, thumbs caressing your sides gently.

“I see you enjoyed your chocolate.”

You leaned more into him, pulling his face so close to yours that your noses brushed against each other’s, your ravished breath fanning across his lips as you whispered.

“I did. I’m glad I’m so interesting to you that you observe me in class enough to know that I collect chocolate frogs cards.”

You expected a blush to paint his cheeks red, an elbow in your side or at least an annoyed huff but you got none of that. Instead, one of Mark’s hands came up to cradle your cheek as he stared deep into your eyes with an unreadable look.

“Excuse me but it’s hard not to look when I have the prettiest person I’ve ever seen who also happens to be my crush since 3rd year.”

Your eyes widened, searching his for any hint that he may be just lying or teasing you. But all you could find was pure, unadulterated fondness, a withheld fire burning low in his eyes. He leaned down, lips brushing against the shell of your ear and sending goosebumps across the expanse of your skin.

“It’s been so hard not to just pull you aside and snog you senseless, especially in your Quidditch uniform.”

You decided to play along. You brought your fingers to his heated neck, running them faintly over his skin and you smirked seeing him shiver at your touch.

“Having a kink for uniforms, Lee?”

Mark screeched lowly, pulling away from you as if burned. He smoothed down his robes, fixating you with a glare that made you laugh.

“Y/N, I’m serious, though. I like you, I really really lo-….like you.”

You noticed his stutter, but it only made your smile widen as you stretched out a hand to intertwine his fingers with yours and pull him along down the corridor.

“Hm, I’ll need some more proof of that.”

Mark squeezed your hand in response, chuckling at you sweetly. He leaned over, pressing a feather like kiss to your temple.

“Don’t worry, you’re nowhere done with your payment back to me. And I only accept it in the form of kisses and cuddles.”

You smiled at each other, your hearts finally settling satisfied in your chests after years of internal turmoil that finally burned out.

“That can be arranged easily.”

[meant-to-be-a-hero]

Ranger Rankings - Power Rangers Beast Morphers

Genuinely surprised by how much I enjoyed this tbh.

Premise - 4

One part RPM, one part Lightspeed Rescue. I kind of like that they acknowledge the Morphin' Grid properly rather than just casting vague aspersions as to its existence.

The whole Morph-X thing works really well to drive the season forward and remains relevant throughout both seasons, and it gives Grid Battleforce a reason to exist outside of just fighting Evox.

I thought they might start playing with virtual reality a bit when they had the whole Avatars and Cyber Dimension stuff, but I'm kind of glad they didn't.

Character Dynamics - 3.5

Devon and Ravi felt a little flat at times. Their sole characteristics were 'video games' and 'art', outside of their relationships with the other characters. That'd be fine if it was just one season, but I didn't really feel like either of them changed too much over the course of the show, especially Devon when he's the Red Ranger.

Zoey and Nate were much better - Nate especially felt like he had a journey to go on, and he got there by the end of the season. I enjoyed that the pair of them got to get together midway through rather than at the end, so we could kind of explore them a bit more as the season progressed.

The supporting cast were also surprisingly good. Blaze and Roxy (both real and evil) were fun little foils, and the parents having an active presence for most of the show was nice since they had roles that meant they could keep popping up without needing to be forced into the plot.

I also kind of loved the Beast Bots. I thought they'd be a bit superfluous, or draw time away from the other characters, but they were there pretty much exactly as often as they were needed.

And I will not hear a bad word about Ben & Betty. They're dumb, but they mean well, and they're very funny without crossing the line into annoying or arrogant. A definite breath of fresh air after Monty and Victor last season.

Sixth Ranger Arc - 4

Steel! I love Steel. He could have easily just have existed to forward Nate's plots, but he had his own stories too, and something to strive for throughout the seasons. Him learning to be more human and then actually getting to be human is the perfect culmination, especially after his heroic sacrifice.

Plus he's a giant goofball. We love a giant goofball. "My butt is metal!"

Plot Development - 4

Were most of Evox's plans the same? Yes. But they usually had a point to them outside of the usual 'acquire Morph-X, ???, profit' angle.

There were enough subplots running through the seasons to keep everything moving. The Cybergate arc, and the data chips stuff in the first season, then the Ryjack stuff in the second one, kept everything from being too samey. I did find myself switching off during the Megazord fights, but then I've just watched 27 seasons of these so I think that's more on me than the show itself.

I also very much enjoyed how much they leaned into Ranger history; I don't think, outside of Megaforce where that was sort of the point, that any other season has used past Ranger continuity so well and so consistently. Doctor K showing up not once but twice was wonderful, and the Venjix reveal was super clever (even if I knew it was coming).

Villains - 4

Evox in the first season is great fun. I love that giant snake design, it really works well for me, and he loses a little bit in the second season after he becomes a robot full time. His mini arc pretending to be the Mayor was fun, but it felt like it ended a bit quick.

Scrozzle, stupid name aside, was pretty good too. I liked the banter with the other minions. There's something about 'put upon evil genius' that works for me.

Both sets of Roxy and Blaze were fun, probably moreso in the second season where the stakes felt a little higher.

And I love that they keep bringing back Sledge and Poisandra; they know that they're fun, we know that they're fun, so they just give us what we want.

Team-Up - 5

Yes, another 5, leave me alone. Seeing the Dino Charge Rangers again was great, and the plot they came up with to get everyone together built up nicely rather than just appearing out of nowhere for the crossover.

I also found the villain clip-show episode in the middle oddly fun, since it wasn't just a clip-show for the season I'd literally just watched.

It's a shame they weren't able to get any more of the Dino Rangers back; just having Jason there, while nice, felt a little weak.

But that triple Megazord fight at the end? Perfect.

Overall - 4.08

Hottest Ranger - Nate's the cutest, but Ravi and his arms win this one.

Notable Episodes:

The Cybergate Opens - The end of the first big arc of the series, and the arrival of the Gold and Silver Rangers.

Finders Keepers/Making Bad/Grid Connection - Dino Rangers, unite!

The Silva Switch - Body swap! Singing! Yesss!

Crunch Time/Source Code/Evox Unleashed - A big, high stakes finale with some excellent reveals and a guest star I'm always happy to see.

[dingoat]

“He doesn’t know what he’s talking about.”  That’s the snapped answer one would get, if they asked Watcher Five directly about the ‘flagpole incident’ that Thirteen so delighted in alluding to. “It’s not my problem if he still doesn’t understand that he needed to better compensate for the possibility of a shifting updraught, or that half of the point of the exercise was to prepare for the chance that during a hazardous mission I could be taken out of the picture at any moment. But he likes to behave as though he can hold this over my head, as though he can influence and therefore threaten my reputation, as if every opportunity currently presented to him didn’t hinge directly upon my direction…”

Five would shake his head with a tight little scowl, an artfully perfected act. “I’ll have to have another word or two with him. I daresay there’s something he’s trying to gain, if he’s gone back to spouting that old story around the place. Pay it no heed.”

But Five’s memory of the incident paints a decidedly different picture.

No matter how hard he tries to smother it, rewrite the events in his own mind, he hasn’t yet managed to do away with the sick, tight feeling in his guts whenever that particular exercise is brought up.

---

Every Cipher has to put a great deal of trust in their Watcher, if they are to meet any measure of success. They have to trust that they don’t need the full picture, that they will be given what information is relevant and necessary, they have to trust that they will be directed toward what they need to focus on, that the parameters set for them, difficult or painful or unpalatable as they may seem, will always be with a bigger picture in mind that they need not be privy to. Always for the greater good.

And Cipher Thirteen was part of a program that necessitated an unprecedented level of trust.

Watcher Five reveled in it. He was just as delighted as his new charge to explore the new possibilities that Imperial Intelligence had to work with, just as hungry to push the limits and test the boundaries. But his excitement came with an edge; a new avenue of power, a new method of control. One couldn’t exactly call him reckless, he was far too methodical in the planning of his exercises for that. But some might consider the fact that he preferred to test Thirteen’s abilities in situ as an unnecessary risk.

Five would argue that utilizing the full extent of terrain that Kaas City and its surrounds had to offer was invaluable in regard to training purposes, and he’d argued long, hard and frequently enough, with impressive enough results to back up his words, that Keeper no longer tried to curb and redirect his enthusiasm.

He was expecting the flight to run through without a hitch, as every other one had. Thirteen had been put through every area before, after all, just not following the particular route Five had mapped out for him this time around. Five had assured him he’d calculated it down to the second, boasted that if Thirteen could maintain a steady speed he could operate his side of the exercise with his eyes shut.

Five was confident, and Thirteen trusted him.

Five was confident, and he didn’t think the comm call from a fellow Agent would impact his response time in the slightest.

---

Thirteen had been given the option of a running start, or to be pushed off the ledge. He’d chosen to be pushed, if for no other reason than to see the look Five got in his eye when he shoved him backward, naked, into the yawning chasm beneath them.

There was as much glory in falling as there was in flight, and Thirteen was able to experience the best of both worlds and everything in between as Five tracked his progress from his monitor and controlled his shapeshifts to best fit the situation. A man one moment, tall and lean and fit, a brilliant beast the next, impossibly huge and brimming with strength and chaotic energy. Then small and lithe, building up speed and angling his wings and body vertically to slot through a narrow pass, feeling the change come on again as he exited the crevice at the precise moment that let him kick off the rocky wall with legs that were both humanoid and reptilian, and land with precision on a scaffolding beam overlooking one of the great unfinished Sith monuments being worked on below. Wings turned back to arms, human feet found purchase on the textured metal surface, and then he launched again, ready for the agile hawkbat shape again that would let him catch a thermal and send him once more skyward.

He was ready.

Any second now.

Five was really cutting a fine line with this one, wasn’t he?

If he wasn’t careful someone working down there was going to see-

Five Five Five where are you what are you doing that pole is coming awfully cl---

Thirteen had trusted, trusted implicitly that Five knew what he was doing, that making such a close call was all part of the exercise. He encouraged it half the time, after all, the element of danger being something they both enjoyed to a slightly irrational degree. It was impossibly difficult to believe that his Watcher would actually allow him to become skewered on a flagpole over half a klick up, even if, in the last half second, that absolutely looked to be the case. He should have reacted sooner, but the idea that Five would knowingly let him be damaged was so unthinkable… Thirteen shouted voicelessly into the rush of wind as he tried to twist away mid-air, suddenly not knowing if the plan was for him to simply keep falling or to try and grab a hold of the pole; in that half second his body contorted, shrunk down, his holler turning into an animal screech, but he was already moving wrong and the next thing he knew was a shock of pain that nearly blacked him out on the spot, and he suddenly couldn’t move.

Reflexively, he tried to flap away, but only one wing was moving and that action blistered so much agony through his chest that he immediately gave up and hung limp, only for the pressure of sagging in place to become rapidly unbearable as well. He wrapped his good wing around the post, clung desperately for purchase with his legs and beak, and waited while stars spun in his vision.

---

“Well make sure you send it along as soon as y-“

Five stared at his tracking screen and immediately ended the call as his heart leapt into his throat.

Thirteen had stopped moving.

Why had he stopped moving? For a few furious seconds Watcher Five’s eyes, wide with unprecedented uncertainty, roved his monitoring equipment. The shift had gone through successfully, all of his Cipher’s readings demonstrated that he’d reacted properly to the implant’s signals, his heart rate was up though and his…

Five didn’t bother looking any further to try and determine remotely what might be wrong. He was in his speeder in a heartbeat, traveling at a speed that would earn a six digit fine to anyone else in any other circumstance. And he knew; he knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that he’d made an error, that he’d let his attention lapse for a few crucial seconds, that he’d cut it too fine and he’d triggered Thirteen’s change too late. He knew, when he saw his precious hawkbat wrapped around a flagpole, that it was his fault. Shame and loathing twisted his insides into churning acid, and as he set his speeder to hover his hands were shaking. Thirteen’s normally green eyes were bright, solid silver, and he thrashed and cried out and hooked his beak into Five’s hands as his Watcher attempted to pry him free. His beautiful sleek body patterned in purple and gold was wet and red, and Five realised that the pole had gone through him twice, one of his wings wrenched and twisted and stuck taut behind him.

Five realised that pulling the bat free was not an option, not if he wasn’t going to bleed out in the time it took to get him to the med labs.

It almost took too long to laser cut through the top of the flagpole as it was, and there was smoke pouring from underneath Five’s speeder when he skidded up to the landing pad outside Intelligence headquarters, bowling the taxi droid clean over the edge.

Guilt was not an emotion Five knew how to handle particularly well, and in the days that followed he was absolutely intolerable. His temper was hot, and his was just as quick with his fist as he was with the sharp edge of his tongue. He made sure that the recruit who’d commed him during the training exercise was fired, for perfectly sound and unrelated reasons. The Fixer who’d asked too many questions about what had happened found themselves stationed on Balmorra for seventeen months. The workers in the expansion district, upon whom Five had officially laid blame for the incident in his report, found themselves with pages of new documents to fill at the commencement of every day’s work outlining all of their communication relays, so that their signals wouldn’t ‘interfere’ with Intelligence work ever again. The project manager who argued about it being a waste of time had a nasty fall the following week.  Keeper finally agreed to Five’s insistence that they fast-track development of a system that allowed the Ciphers to control their implants internally, and Thirteen was to be the first fitted with the new tech.

Thirteen himself was left wanting for absolutely nothing during his recovery in Five’s Citadel apartment.

And Watcher Five’s comm was set to silent. Never again was it answered during any mission in which he was overseeing Thirteen’s work… not that he had to, after long. Balmorra was getting awfully full of recruits who’d tried to contact Five at the wrong time.

[ @halibellecter​, ask and ye shall receive! Five, of course, is my horrible character and Thirteen belongs to @askshivanulegacy​ who maintains all right to veto/retcon as necessary! These guys exist in our werewolf au where Imperial Intelligence has some very specialised technology and procedures for their top Cipher agents. Five and Thirteen are the best of the best of the best, sir, with honours... which means that for anyone on the other side of the conflict (or, frankly, on the other side of Five’s moods) they are the absolute worst. ]

[smuttbunnie]

A Tale From Long Ago

Member: V

Genre: Smut / Angst

Series: The Moon Child

Theme: Halloween

Part: 6 / {pt.1} {pt.2} {pt.3} {pt.4} {pt.5} {pt.7}

“I was young, still a fletchling doing odd jobs and servant work to get around. I don’t know how much you’ve seen of the underground cities, but not all of us were born into royalty and luxury like his Majesty,” Jin began his story.

He looked out of place sitting on the floor what with his strict, composed personality. There was something different about Jin... as if the air around him had shifted. The compliant, submissive demeanor of a servant he usually upheld was replaced with something somber, that made your stomach knot.

It seemed everyone in the castle had a mask to wear.

“Back then I didn’t have the status to pursue what I wanted to do. Some chefs from the royal palace needed an errand boy and I happened to get lucky... when I got the job, I really had no idea where it would end up taking me...”

“-and then pick up ten crates of blood for the party this evening,” the kitchen lady finished, shoving the pass into his small hands - the royal seal of the kingdom carved into the maple wood.

“What brand of blood am I-”

“Just fetch it from the supplier and show him your pass!” the woman cut him off. “Must you always ask so many questions child? Go on, get out of here!” she scolded him.

Jin bit his tongue and left the bustling kitchen to make his way to the high-end market place. If there was one thing he had plenty of, it was questions. Even when Jin tried to keep his mouth shut, he couldn’t stay quiet for long; He had to know all the information, the details, the fine print that no one ever bothered to read.

It was odd too. From what he heard the party was going to be rather extravagant, and for such events the blood was always ordered beforehand. So why get it last minute? And why wasn’t it just delivered straight to the kitchen like it usually was with such big events?

The kitchen ladies just hushed him and told him to stop trying to make sense of every little thing. Why didn’t it bother them? The way it bothered him when things didn’t make sense, when the facts didn’t line up. 

Jin couldn’t understand it. Why go along with questionable things? A decision should be based on an understanding of the situation, knowledge of what you influence with your decision and what the outcome will be once you make it. Recklessness... naivety, uncertainty. If any of those things were present in your decision making, you were sure to make a faulty decision, he quietly thought to himself.

When he approached the building he was given the address of, he could already smell the dull scent of blood coming from inside. Upon entering, he spotted a man at a front desk - busy with what seemed like paperwork.

The man looked up, frowning when his eyes met Jin’s. It was a to be expected, seeing a kid in his shop. He was wearing rather expensive clothing, and had a scar on his neck that he had failed to cover up.

“Can I help you?” the man asked, wearily eyeing him.

“I’m here to pick up a supply of blood,” Jin said showing the shop keeper the identification pass from the castle. “Ten crates of blood, for the Prince’s birthday celebration?”

“Ah! So you’re from the royal kitchen huh? Wait here whilst I go get them.”

The man left through a door in the back, leaving Jin in the small office room. Something felt off. He couldn’t quite point out what, but there was definitely something wrong - the fact that this wasn’t the usual procedure for getting blood was already a red flag...

But the building. There was something in the air… Something Jin recognized but couldn’t place. Damn it, what was it? Before he could mull on it any further, the man returned with the crates, carrying them one by one from the storage room.

Jin groaned internally when he though about pulling the cart all the way back to the kitchen. He politely thanked the man and carried the crates outside, starting the painfully long journey back to the castle kitchen.

The situation was getting even stranger. The usual stamp on the crates wasn’t anywhere to be seen, so the blood definitely wasn’t from their usual supplier. Why would they change suppliers all of a sudden? Especially right before a big event like this.

It didn’t add up. And Jin hated when things didn’t add up.

***

The kitchen was a nightmare. The Head Chef barked orders to the staff and everything simmered, sizzled and spat in a cacophony of noise. From warm, thick, blood-soup appetizers to cold, gelatin deserts; every dish needed to be immaculate, with absolutely no room for error.

Everyone was on edge, especially since the time to drink the first blood of the night was drawing near.

It was customary for the King to drink the first glass of blood, but since the prince was the guest of honour, tradition called for him to take the first sip of the evening.

If the blood was not to the prince’s liking, or he found any fault with the blood whatsoever, the King would surely have their heads. Jin wasn’t allowed near the food, but he had the job of fetching ingredients and kitchenware, or sometimes washing the pots and pans.

“Boy, come here” one of the chefs called. He was second in command and made sure everyone did their job and that things progressed smoothly. It was also him who offered Jin the job - something Jin was very grateful for.

“It’s almost time for the first blood, quickly go fetch me one of the crates,” he instructed, a smile coloring the man’s rough features. “We’re short on waiters, so I’m giving you the chance to help out tonight.”

Jin’s eyes grew the size of saucers. Him? Help serve the blood? He was barely even allowed in the Royal kitchen as it was, but serving the same table the Royal family were seated at? There was no greater honour.

“C-chef I, how can I- this is such a- such a, thank-”

“No need to thank me,” he chuckled. “You’ve really earned your position these last few months. Just keep your head down and stay focused.”

Jin nodded furiously, and gushed;

“You won't regret this chef, thank you! Thank you so much! Thank you for this-this privilege!” 

He quickly dashed off to get the crate of blood, beaming all the way. The royal family… He was finally going to see them. The people who had shaped the country, brought down nations and conquered all who opposed them.

There was definitely no one more meticulous than the King. He accepted nothing short of perfection and planned his every move down to the smallest detail. You couldn’t pay the man to do something spontaneous or out of character - not even the most lavish palace could convince Jin to give up an  opportunity like this. 

He suddenly wondered what the prince looked like.

Whispers were always exchanged about the young royal heir and where he stood in all the kingdom’s matters. Few have seen him, so rumors and speculation was really all they knew about the third prince, Kim Taehyung.

Jin grabbed the large crate, carefully lifting it up - again the familiar scent washed over him, nagging and pulling at his memories. But he had no time to indulge in nostalgia; the mysterious smell would have to wait.

The job he was given was more important than anything else, and he couldn’t afford to waste time on these \childish theories of his.

***

“Now ladies and gentlemen, if I may have your attention; the time has come for the first blood of the evening.”

Hearing their cue, the doors swung open and servants carrying trays with exquisite wine glasses entered in an orderly line. Jin tried to keep his gaze and focus ahead of him, but couldn’t help sneaking a glance towards the head of the table.

His eyes found themselves instantly drawn towards the King. Long, graceful, raven locks cascaded down his broad shoulders, his wine red cloak embroidered with gold. His eyes were narrow slits of ruby; weary, cold, calculated eyes that came with war - and carefully examined and judged the chefs as they walked past.

He was simply the spitting image of royalty.

It was only when Jin looked away from His Majesty that he noticed the small boy with carmine locks sitting next to the King. Jin was shocked at how small he was, how young he must be.

Before he had time to inspect the prince a bit longer, the last servant reached his position at the end of the table. They all looked to the head chef to give them their cue, before putting the glasses down in unison.

Jin let out a quiet breath of relief as the King nodded with approval. He felt like there was a noose around his neck and feared the moment he would falter and the rope would pull tight around his throat. The boy reminded himself to thank the chef for allowing him to be so close to the Royal family - practically in spitting distance from the monarch.

As the Head chef stepped forward to pour the prince’s drink, the familiar smell pryed at something inside of Jin. It had been present the whole time and the more he tried to ignore it, the more it squirmed and writhed in the pit of his belly to be heard. 

What was it? What was this scent? It stirred something primal within him, something close to instinct. A sort of horrid nostalgia settled over him, and suddenly he was flooded with memories from the slums; dark times he had tried to suppress to a deep and forgotten part within himself.

Oh no. Oh god what have they done? 

Jin tried to discreetly pull the Chef’s sleeve, pleading in a panicked whisper; “Chef, Chef there’s something terribly wrong.”

The man batted his hand away, giving him a stern glare that told him to shut his mouth. The King had started his opening speech, the young prince’s glass already poured. There wasn’t any time left.

“Chef please it’s the blood, you don’t understand!” he hissed, frantically trying to get the Chef’s attention. The man turned to him, muttering under his breath;

“Didn’t I tell you to stay silent and keep your head down?”

“Yes but it’s urgent, the blood-”

“Not another word!” he silenced Jin. “I’ll punish you later for disobeying my orders, just be quiet until the ceremony is over or the King will kill you right here in front of everyone.”

No. If his Royal Highness drinks from that chalice, none of them would be spared. He should’ve noticed it sooner, damn it he should have followed his gut! Something was clearly wrong, and yet he kept ignoring it, and now- and now-

“-and may good fortune befall you in your many years to come.”

Courteous applause brought Jin’s attention back to the table and to the horrid sight of prince Taehyung raising the chalice to his lips. No! He cannot let this happen!

Before Jin even processed the implications of what he was about to do, he was already leaping forward towards the prince.

“Don’t drink that!” he cried out, knocking the goblet from the prince’s hand. For a moment he was looking into the surprised, red eyes of a young vampire - the grotesque realization of what he had just done taking a second to settle in his stomach. And but only a moment later, Guards had his arms twisted behind him, and pushed him into the floor.

I’m going to die.

The thought rang clearly in his head, unrest rippling through the guests like a gust of wind. The King’s voice boomed over the quiet whispers of surprise and Jin felt his blood run cold.

“How dare you lay a finger on royalty! I think peasant scum like you would make a fine example, don’t you think?”

Jin looked up at the King, his whole body trembling. The terrifying stories of this man had not done him justice at all. 

In his eyes he could see no mercy at all. Not even a fraction. The only thing those dark crimson eyes held was remorseless bloodlust. There was a feeling of no escape - of being prey trapped in the predator’s jaws that crawled into his skin. Jin noticed too late the scar splitting the King’s lip, the clench of his jaw, the heavy folds in his brow:

This was a man who was used to war. Who was used to killing.   

Jin, a peasant with no bloodline to his name, who had interrupted a sacred tradition; his grave was already dug and now he would have to lie in it.

He squeezed his eyes shut, and prayed that his death would be swift - that was the only thing he could do in such a situation.

“Stop.”

The single word came unfeeling but brisk from the table and Jin felt his body crumble in relief - or maybe shock. He was certain it was the prince, but he dared not open his eyes to look.

“Father, I ask you not kill him yet,” Taehyung said standing up from his seat. The soft murmur of confusion and curiosity washed over the people sitting at the table, drops of hushed conversation falling on Jin's ears;

"-a peasant, if it were me I would just kill the boy."

"Did you see the way he knocked the glass like a barbarian out of-"

"-think the King should just leave him to burn alive in the surfaceworld."

Was this really where he would die? Jin's throat became unbearably dry and suddenly he just wished it would all be over soon. Maybe the prince wanted the honour of killing him himself, or maybe he wanted to torture him first for the crime he committed.

Jin was knowledgeable about the King, but prince Taehyung? He had no clue about his morals, his values, his ideals - with who his trust lied. There was no way for him to calculate his risks or chances of coming out of this mess alive.

Jin was completely in the dark, with no knowledge at his disposal. And this terrified him.

"That's a rather absurd request Taehyung. You do understand that right?" His Majesty's tone was not without warning - the implications of the Prince's actions did not need to be said out loud for them to be understood.

"Yes I understand Your Majesty. I humbly ask the chance to ask the peasant a few questions."

"Hmm..." The King considered it for a moment, before answering;  "Very well then."

Jin could hear the Prince's footsteps end in front of him, and he couldn’t keep his body from trembling in fear any longer. He wasn't a religious person - the whole concept went against logic and reason. But in that moment he prayed to any god that would listen to spare his life.

"What's your name?"

It was strange being questioned a child. It was as if he was an ant the boy had momentarily found interest in. At any given time he could decide Jin was not entertaining enough anymore, and order to end his life without any significant impact being made on the world.

"Jin, Your Highness" he whispered in the steadiest voice he could manage.

"Lift your head, Jin" he instructed, and the boy could only do as he was told. He looked up into ruby eyes staring down at him, and could find neither comfort nor disgust in them. They were neutral. Jin could feel his heart start to calm down, and his lungs began to function properly again.

"Why did you knock the chalice out of my hand?"

“I-...I couldn’t let Your Highness drink that blood, I couldn’t allow it,” he stuttered, his eyes unable to leave the crimson of the prince’s. It was a hand reaching out to him - offering to save him from drowning. 

Taehyung narrowed him eyes, speaking carefully and precise as if his words would break the eggshells Jin was treading on. “What was wrong with the blood?”

Jin glanced around the room, all eyes glued to him - eager for an answer. It made him nauseous and he swallowed his fears - finding stability in the prince’s calm eyes again. 

“The blood... it wasn’t human.”

Murmurs broke out amongst the people, as if someone had dropped a beehive into the tens dining hall. The king’s face softened just enough for surprise to flit across his face, but the prince was yet again unreadable.

“What was it then?” he asked, everyone holding their breaths in anticipation.

Silence filled the empty spaces in the ceiling again, and Jin thought if he spoke too loudly the whole building might collapse on them. He couldn’t breathe for a few seconds and wondered if he might pass out.

“...It was pig’s blood.”

Like locusts the people droned and buzzed in a panic of shock and alarm.  Jin could have sworn he saw a change the the young boy’s eyes, but it was hidden so quickly that he wasn’t sure if he hadn’t imagined it. 

The prince silenced the people by raising his hand, skeptically looking Jin up and down. “And how do you know this?” he challenged. “Did you perhaps get paid to put pig’s blood in my cup? But then you couldn’t bare the guilt and decided to-”

“No! I could never!” Jin objected, desperation seeping into his voice. This time, he could see the bewilderment on the prince’s face. There was an intense conversation in their gaze for a few seconds, before Jin realized to his own horror what he had done.

He had interrupted the prince.

Pressing his head to the floor his heart threatened to leap from his chest. His voice was unsteady and scared as he begged; “I-I’m sorry your highness! Please forgive me for acting so shamefully... but, but I would never dare to harm anyone from the royal family! I-I’ve looked up to the Royal family since I-”

Jin squeezed his eyes shut, his vision spinning out of control.  “Since the moment I decided to leave the slums...” he whispered.

Feeling the Prince kneel before him, he pressed his body even lower into the floor. “It’s alright, I forgive you. You may raise your head child,” he instructed. It was such a strange thing, being called “child” by someone so obviously younger than him. It made Jin feel small and weak. It was suffocating and humiliating.

Taehyung’s eyes were stern, but Jin could feel a similarity in them and it helped distract him from the chaos around them.

“Now,” the prince started, keeping his tone level. “How did you know there was pig’s blood in my glass?”

“I...I grew up in the slums Your Highness. It is a very poor district and there’s only a very limited supply of food there. Human blood is hard to come by and too expensive to survive off of,” Jin explained. He shuddered when he thought about the horrid taste again, images of the filthy streets flashing through his head.

“So we would drink pig’s blood instead. It was the cheapest on the market, but it was also the most foul tasting. When I went to pick up the crates of blood, I smelt something I couldn’t identify at fist.” Shamefully looking away, Jin finished;   “And I finally recognized the smell when it was already too late...”

Quiet whispers were exchanged at the table once again, whether condemning or excusing him, he didn’t know. The prince carefully examined Jin, before standing up and straightening out his clothes.

“Father,” The prince spoke, his eyes not leaving the small peasant boy kneeling before him. “Do you remember when you asked me what I would like for my birthday?”

“Yes, what about it?” The King asked, frowning.

“I have decided,” the prince announced and Jin thought he imagined the faintest smirk pulling at the prince’s lips. “I want my gift to be this servant boy.”

The King’s face fell in astonishment and the low drum of gossip accompanied his bewildered words; “Surely there are better slaves to choose from than this one?”

A quiet scoff barely graced the prince’s lips, but he heard it. Jin heard it. “Not as a slave my King. As my advisor.”

At that moment a million things happened at once, but Jin was numb to it all. He didn’t hear the deafening noise of people objecting and gasping in shock, nor did he see the King’s expression - one of confusion and bafflement. Jin simply replayed the word over and over in his head until it sounded strange and unfamiliar;

“Advisor. Advisor. As my advisor” 

The King humored the Prince, simply laughing and saying that is was his birthday after all. With a swift bow and a graceful apology the prince excused himself momentarily from the dinner whilst the King and his own advisors sorted out the mess of the blood.

In a daze Jin hastily followed the Prince until they were in a more secluded area of the castle. He barely had any time to register the ornate gold decorating the palace, or the intricate patterns painted on the walls, or the exquisitely carved stone pillars or the finely crafted mahogany doors.

The prince led Jin to a large room, opening two doors that led to a balcony - away from prying eyes or ears pressed against the walls. Jin expected some form of explanation, maybe even a scolding or rough warning about the sudden turn of events. Anything that could make sense of the absurd situation Jin was suddenly caught in.

“Pheeeeew!” the prince exhaled dramatically, sighing heavily; “I thought for sure you were a goner back there! I seriously thought I was going to have to see a severed head on my birthday, how gross would that have been?” 

What?

Jin stared bewildered at the person in front of him, wondering who he was. It looked like an exact copy of the prince, but he was sure a completely different person was standing there on the balcony. As if someone else had slipped into the skin of the Prince Taehyung.

“Oh right! Sorry, I forgot to introduce myself” the boy grinned, promptly sticking out his hand. “I’m Prince Kim Taehyung.” 

Jin stared at the hand before him, his head swimming with questions. “I’m not gonna bite or anything,” the boy said flashing a toothy grin. 

“Oh! Uhm, I’m so sorry, please forgive me Your Highness.” Jin hastily shook the prince’s hand. “I’m Kim Seok-Jin.” What was happening?

“God it’s so suffocating to attend those banquets and keeping up appearances,” the prince complained. Never had Jin even considered himself on the same level as royalty. They had been like gods to him, a status and life he would never be able to reach. He was dirt compared to them.

But Prince Taehyung... he talked to him so... so normally. “I-I’m sorry I don’t understand,” Jin said. “You... I thought... I’m just a peasant Your Highness...”

The prince looked at him for a few seconds, his eyes serious like before. But there was a certain fire in them. A fire that Jin knew he couldn’t tear his eyes away from. “Exactly. You’re a mere peasant. You and I have never met, but you were willing to throw your life away in an instant to protect mine.”

Taehyung grinned, and Jin could feel something sweeping him up, making his body lighter. The wind that carried the prince was strong and wild, and he wondered what getting caught in that wind would feel like.

“There are many people in the palace from noble families who I have known for years, who would kill me at the first chance they were given if they gained something from it.”

The prince turned to face the city, placing his hand on the railing of the balcony. Jin thought to himself, that with his back turned like that, he looked somehow lonely. Like he had been watching over the city and its people like this, all alone his whole life. 

“Jin, life in the palace is not as lavish as it may seem. You must constantly look over your shoulder, you can’t trust anyone. You must play the game carefully and cunningly...” 

His words were dark and heavy, but he wanted to hear all of it. As if whenever the prince spoke Jin finally came alive. “It won’t be easy...” Taehyung warned.

“My prince,” Jin softly praised, dropping to his knee. “If you would allow it, please let me be the person you can trust. Let me be your eyes, your ears, your hands. I will serve you to the best of my abilities.”

The prince smiled, turning to face the boy. “Even if the city has turned against me, and you must follow me down to the pits of hell?”

Jin grinned, and Taehyung thought it was much better than the apologetic face he had worn thus far. “Even so, I will follow you, Your Highness.”

Taehyung laughed, happily and full like children should, extending his hand towards the boy. “Then get off the floor already, you look ridiculous!”

 “And that was how I came to be the royal advisor...” Jin finished his story, disbelief still coloring your expression.

“Really? Is that story really true?” you excitedly asked, Jin’s words still turning in your head. Jin chuckled, and nodded. “I swear it. Sometimes I can’t quite believe it myself.”

“But what happened with the pig’s blood?” you asked, unable to contain your curiosity. To that Jin smiled, leaning in closer;

“Turns out that some of the nobles who worked with the finances decided to switch the usual supplier of blood for someone cheaper, and kept the money they saved for themselves.” You looked at Jin with wide eyes as he continued. 

“They thought no one would notice the difference if the pig’s blood was used in the cooking instead of the human blood. But they forgot to include a crate of usual human blood for normal drinking.”

“So they got caught?”

Jin grinned. “And the Prince made sure that I personally got credit for exposing their operation.”

You glanced at Taehyung sleeping soundly in bed with awe and newfound respect. You had never imagined him to be someone like that, and you were starting to realize there was so much you didn’t know about him.

“Y/N...” Jin said, his eyes gentle and soft. “I know it seems like the King is harsh and cruel now... but he has had to endure a lot during the years I’ve known him. And that has been many, many years... But I told you this story for a reason.”

Taking your hand into his, he gave it a comforting squeeze and you could feel your heart swell for the advisor, who had shown you nothing but kindness from the start. “The King placed his faith and trust in me... even though I was a street urchin. There were dozens others, more noble and much more qualified than I was...”

He smiled, and you knew exactly why the King could put his trust in Jin, even when there was no one else by his side. “But he saw something in me. He didn’t care about my background, my bloodline or where I had come from. He judged my character, my abilities, my skills.” Jin looked at Taehyung or a few seconds, admiration and pride dancing across his face.

This man would give up the whole world for Taehyung if he had to.

“He will not judge you for your past Y/N.” You felt flushed and embarrassed, glancing away. But your past was so dreadul and shameful... how could he possibly not judge you for it?

‘He will look past that, to what matters in here,” Jin said pointing at your chest. “All you have to do is have patience, and put your faith in my Prince.“

With that Jin stood up, leaving you alone with your thoughts after making sure the King was alright. You thought about Jin’s story and all he had said to you. Sitting by the edge of the bed you looked at Taehyung’s face, peaceful and without worry.

He frowned so much....

“I wish I had known you when you were young” you whispered, resting your head in your hand. “It seems we were both better people back then...” you sighed, remembering fragments of the girl you had once been. But you knew neither you nor Taehyung could go back; those children from long ago were no longer here.

You could only move forward from here... and you hoped, in the smallest part of your chest, that you do so by his side. Taking his bandaged hand into yours, you placed your palm over the top of his hand and closed your eyes. Softly, you whispered a prayer he would never hear;

“Get well soon Prince Taehyung...”

~To be continued

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[youhearstatic]

Cor’s Adventure Zone Writing

Longer Fics - colabs

A Single Slat of Wood and Canvas - After months of training, Lup fails to bring in her first solo reaper contract. She won’t tell anyone exactly what happened, even Barry. (By @tanger-catnip & @youhearstatic)

Barry woke with a start. His hand reached for the other side of the bed before he even knew who or where he was.

“Lup?” he asked the empty room.

Her side of the bed was cold. Barry was up and fumbling for his glasses in an instant, his heart pounding.

Made Before the Voidfish (Broken by a Voidfish) - For months Lup, Magnus, and Merle have been haunted by the presence of the ‘red robe’. Often showing up after their adventures to offer cryptic and usually unhelpful warnings and advice. Shortly after the events at Refuge, Lup hatches a plan to finally pin this incomprehensible creature down and get the answers to the questions burning inside her. [TwinSwap AU 1.0]  (By @tanger-catnip & @youhearstatic)

Lup heard her own voice twist into a burst of static. She couldn’t remember what she had just said or hold it in her brain, but her mouth knew the words. She bent over, a lance of pain shooting through her head. It hurt so much, but she was so close to something she just had to keep going.

More static. It was like something was stealing the words away from her. She tried to claw them back, but they just would not stay in. It was like vomiting, but with words that she couldn’t hear.

Lust is a Thing with Fangs - Lup tries to sneak in one more day of laboratory work before her annual heat cycle kicks in. Barry is there. It goes about how you would expect. (Explicit content.) (By @tanger-catnip & @youhearstatic)

Lup paused at the door to the lab. She stood up straight, wrapping herself in dignity and ignoring her heart pounding in her chest like a jackhammer. It would be fine. It was only Barry. He would be way too focused on his work to notice her trembling, or the fact she was flushed from the tips of her ears to her toes.

Lup licked her lips. She suddenly had the strangest feeling. Like part of her had come to a revelation about something and another was frantically trying to muffle it before it could be brought to her attention.

A Night at The Naughty Kitten - Out of options after the Starblaster hastily relocated without them, Lup and Barry spend the night at a “boutique” “short stay” hotel.

There’s only one bed, but that’s the least of anyone’s problems. (By @tanger-catnip & @youhearstatic)

The tension was so thick you could cut it with a knife. It wasn’t the first time she’d ended up like this, but every time Lup wondered if it would be the one to break her. He wanted her so badly. Lup didn’t understand how she was supposed to handle seeing it so clearly on his face on top of her own longing.

Sandworms and Other Concerns - Barry discovers that Lup’s presence can improve any situation, including having his arm torn off by a fifty-foot-long, carnivorous, burrowing, acid-spitting, hook-toothed, pinstriped Sandworm. (By @tanger-catnip & @youhearstatic - Also on AO3.) {Hey guys, just to let you know: The sandworm is all in the title. This is Hurt/Comfort wrapped in Fluff. Angst levels are at absolute minimum!}

Lup blinked. Once, then twice. At first, she didn’t know what had woken her up. The ship was perfectly still, aside from the faint thrum of the bond engine that she’d learned how to tune out decades ago. The interior lighting that simulated a day-night cycle was dimmed as low as it went which meant it was still ‘nighttime.’

After a moment, Lup realised what it was. The steady pattern of breathing that lulled her into sleep was coming at its normal pace. Barry was awake.

Longer Fics - solo

Bluejeans, Boxers, and One Bed - A prompt that got out of hand, this is my contribution to the best mutual pining trope out there: There Was Only One Bed! 4500+ words of ridiculous pining with a side dish of underwear angst. Yup, it’s a thing.

She’s tempted to watch but doesn’t, turning to give him the same privacy he afforded her. She already knows he wears boxers. They’ve all seen each other’s laundry enough to know every article of clothing by heart. He has navy blue ones, two different types of plaids, and red ones with white hearts that she’s wanted to ask about for years now. Something about them screams Valentine’s Gift Set and she wants to know the story. Were they a serious gift? A gag gift? Did he get his heart broken? Was he…

Lup’s heart stutters wildly for a few beats. Was he in a relationship when they left?

Losing Time - (Post Story and Song) After being missing for three days, Barry has been mysteriously de-aged. Now he looks 20 years old and doesn’t remember anyone. Lup, Kravitz, and Taako are trying to figure things out. (17k words)

His hair is thicker, his face smoother. He’s still heavy but lighter than she’s used to. She’s known him for over a hundred years while neither of them aged.

And now he’s a stranger.

Part One  | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five | Part Six | Part Seven | Part Eight | Part Nine | Part Ten | Part Eleven | Part Twelve | Part Thirteen | Part Fourteen | Part Fifteen

Losing Time “Exit Interview” (10 fanfic questions answered about Losing Time. Includes a lot of behind the scenes and extended explanations.)

It’s About Time - This is a love letter to Barry Bluejeans of sorts: the whole campaign of The Adventure Zone: Balance (and then some) told from Barry’s point of view. (All the Time in the Worlds Series, Pt two. Meaning it’s essentially the Barry POV companion fic to A Thousand Tiny Moments. WIP, updates Fridays.)

Two days later Barry is dead.

Again.

All those contradictions and questions are filled when he rises, spectral and nearly overwhelmed with more emotions than his lich form can handle.

Because when he’s dead he can remember it all.

Contradictions  (Prologue - tumblr link)

A Thousand Tiny Moments - Before being chosen for the Starblaster crew, Lup meets someone at a party. It doesn’t go well. (All the Time in the Worlds Series, Pt one, the Lup POV companion fic to It’s About Time. 14k words)

She drifts closer to him and slowly, so slowly, she bends her head to his. She pauses inches away, not yet touching but so close they share breath. Her hand slides along the lapel of his jacket and she feels his chest rise as he breathes in.

She looks at his mouth and thinks this is the last moment before I kiss him.It’s as inevitable as his chest falling beneath her hand as he exhales. So she kisses him. His lips are warm and soft against hers with the rich sting of alcohol painted on both their mouths.

The Lup POV minific that became A Thousand Tiny Moments

A Thousand Tiny Moments “Exit Interview” (10 fanfic questions answered about ATTM. Includes a lot of behind the scenes and extended explanations.)

Short Fics

Barry & Lup:

Morning in Bed (Lup and Barry just cuddling and being in love. Prompt Request.)

It’s Cold Outside But You’re Warm (Lup and Barry mutual pining. Prompt Request.)

Strings (Lup and Barry just performed their song. Lup has a few final doubts.)

What If She’s Just Gone? (Barry’s anxieties get away from him when Lup is missing. Prompt request.)

Will You Marry Me (Barry does what he has to. Prompt Request.)

Reactions (The twins deal with Barry being ill. Prompt Request.)

Curse and Canyon (Barry is hurt. Lup is trying to deal. Prompt Request.)

Take a Picture (Lup is frustrated. Prompt request.)

Your Laugh is so Adorable (Lup does some reluctant pining. Prompt request.)

Don’t Touch Me (Barry and Lup short experimental piece.)

Gathering (Taako plans a party. Prompt request.)

It was the Pottery (Taako teasing Barry. Prompt request.)

Super Short & Cutesy (Barry and Lup in the lab. Prompt request.)

What You Did Was Stupid (Barry and Lup on Tesseralia. Prompt request.)

This One is Really Dark (You’ve been warned. Prompt request.)

Let Me Help You (Prompt request for Barry & Lup.)

You Don’t Have to Act Like You’re Okay (Prompt request for Barry and Lup.)

Pride (Prompt based minific of Lup coming to Barry’s rescue at a Pride event.)

Hotel Balcony (A prompt based modern meet-cute for Barry and Lup.)

Hotel Balcony Pt 2 (Hey look, there’s more!)

Contradictions (Test minific/opener for the Barry POV fic that is in progress.)

Lup and Barry switch (Lup is the one that falls from the Starblaster, taking Taako with her.)

At the Wedding (Barry and Lup at Carey and Killian’s wedding. Quick scene inspired by a post.)

True Seeing (Barry in a voidfished body with a group of adventurers. Short group write piece.)

Other Short TAZ Pieces:

Getting Home (Super short Magnulia prompt)

Love is Dead (Taako has never had a soulmark. Kravitz gets one only after he dies. Taakitz Soulmate/Soulmark AU with Blupjeans background)

Second Chances ( When Lucretia gets the second void fish she realizes she can inoculate Davenport and talk to him.)

Just You and Me (JohnChurch prompt request.)

Karma is a Bitch/What Did You Say? (Taako & Barry’s friendship prompt request.)

Can You Keep a Secret? (Taako & Barry’s friendship prompt request.)

Meta, Etc

Headcanons:

[The Twins | Taako & Lup]

[The Lover | Barry]

[The Protector | Magnus]

[The Lonely Journal Keeper | Lucretia | The Director]

[The Peacemaker | Merle]

[The Wordless One | Davenport]

[Kravitz]

[Miscellaneous]

Meta:

Lucretia and the Red Robes (Pt 1) Lucretia and the Red Robes (Pt 2)

A list of every conversation Lucretia has with the boys about the Red Robes and a discussion of her thought process/intentions. Part 2 focuses specifically on how her words in Ep 59 may have influenced Magnus’s decisions going forward.

Murder or Suicide: What is it when lich!Barry sets up his living!Barry body to die?

Other:

TAZ Balance Characters as WoW Classes

[jesbakescookies]

Sweet Hereafter: Chapter One

This is a Merle/OC story I started in 2015. It has somewhat canon characters and story lines but some things will change as it progresses. I try to stick to Merle's canon but he will soften some.

I don't own the Walking Dead, its character or storylines. This story contains some exact quotes. This story is for fun, not profit. :)

I picture Emily Blunt in Loopers for my OC, Sam. 

This is a mature rated story. It contains: LOTS of cursing, gore, violence, references to rape, assault and abuse, SMUT and probably other offensive things. yadayadayada

18+ years only

Please and Thank you.

The Sweet Hereafter by: The White Buffalo was used for the story title. It seemed to fit the story and Merle's Dixon.

"Sweet Hereafter"

Oh, when I left my mamas home Left her for dead when I left her all alone The whores they won't let me be at night They can't replace the warmth I need tonight Because I'm cold, cold as hell

The lord, He don't wait for me at night He knows what I've done is wrong and it ain't right The devil await me with open arms And he sways me with his wiles and with his charms I'm holding on when there's nothing left to hold onto

Hold on to the sweet hereafter

The fountain from where I drank from as a child When I was young I was bored and I was wild Since then I have grown into a man And I know that I can always stand But I'm wrong, I'm still a child

Hold on to the sweet hereafter

Merle stood in the hallway listening to the Governor yell and hit the woman brought in from the nearby camp. Martinez picked her up while she was scavenging a bait location, Governor's nasty little trick of capturing outsiders to gain information of their camps. He wanted to know where the camp was? How many men? How many guns? What supplies they had?

The most common way he acquired this information was by force. Merle couldn't claim innocence of the act. He had beaten information out of prisoners but he didn't work over women, he'd threated but never hit. That was left to others and if Merle was honest, he never really thought much about it.

When Merle came to town things were ideal. The Governor helped him get clean and saved his life by fighting an infection in his amputated limb. He would be dead if he hadn't been found and he owed the sadistic bastard his life.

Now?

Now, Merle felt like a sinister pawn in a sadistic chess game, a deadly tool in the back pocket of a madman. The Governor was playing God. He was wiping out entire camps for supplies. He had several rooms he used for play. The kind of play that made grown men cry for their mamas and women wish they were dead. Merle wasn't innocent by any means. He pulled the trigger on countless men. He had stolen and murdered on the Governor's orders to do so. Many nights when he found himself drinking the looted liquor from the recent raided camp, he'd sit picturing the faces of those he hurt, those he killed. He knew he'd eventually pay for his crimes. Pay for being a hired gun.

Another yelp echoed in the metal structure bringing Merle back to the present. The girl inside the room was being stupid. She wasn't talking. No matter what the sick bastard did, she kept her mouth shut.

'Fuckin' dumb broad.' Merle thought while picking at his nails with his prosthetic knife attachment nervously. Something was keeping him grounded in his spot despite the pain of hearing it.

The sound of her crying out again twisted his gut. It was a strangled sob that tore the old redneck bastard up. He grew up watching his Pa beat on his mom. Abusing women and children was a line Merle never crossed and thought men who did were cowards.

The crack of leather against skin, followed by an animalistic howl, caused a chill to run up his spine. His back burned just hearing the familiar sound, a sound that woke him up from nightmares on most nights. Two more quick cracks and Merle snapped out of the flashbacks of childhood. Throwing the door open, he saw the woman on the ground in a ball at the Governor's feet, his leather belt hanging from his fisted hand, blood dripping to the floor. It was a scene straight out of the Dixon family album. Her back was split open. Three angry welts, oozing blood, marred her once pale soft skin. Her body was trembling and quiet gasps were making their way out from under her cowered frame.

"Why are you interrupting my interrogation Merle?" The sadistic bastard asked calmly, his eyes as black as Appalachian coal.

"Problem with the match tonight. Martinez said he needs ya," he replied evenly hoping his rage wasn't showing. The excuse was real but it wasn't actually an emergency. He just needed to interrupt the bastard from injuring the woman anymore. Merle knew the Governor would check it out even though it wasn't important at the time. Philip was a controlling asshole and he needed to be involved in every happening around town.

"Well then. I guess we'll take a break darlin’. Merle if you'd get her restrained, I'll be back to continue our… conversation. Sweetheart, you're gonna love the next part." He assured in his oily southern gentleman facade. The sound of his voice gave the redneck the creeps.

Merle grunted in response and moved to the broken shape on the floor still curled within herself, her once blonde hair caked with dried blood. Her pale back angry and inflamed. She was nude except for panties, which truthfully shocked Merle. The Governor had a proclivity to rape.

'Guess that was his next play.' He thought angrily.

Merle lifted her up and sat her in the chair at the table. They were alone now but he still spoke quietly.

"Gonna be okay, girl." He spoke gruffly.

Merle was one tough bastard. He had seen a lot of disturbing things before and after the turn, but those pale shoulders with large hand print bruises wrapped around each boney clavicle, turned his gut something awful. He pictured his mama on the kitchen floor, her housedress torn, broken glass and spilled dinner, his Pa's fingerprints wrapping her neck. Shaking his head clear of the haunting images, he got to work. They didn't have much time and he didn't have a real plan to speak of.

Merle took his flannel off leaving him in a wife beater and camo pants. Sliding the fabric over her small frame and buttoning it up, he leaned down to see the damage to her face. Her left eye was black and deep purple. The white of her eye was blood red, the blood vessels all broken. Her bottom lip was spilt in the center and dripping blood down her chin. It needed stitches. Her neck was ringed with bruises. The sadist had strangled her at some point.

"We're leavin'. Ya hear me," he growled fiercely but quietly, his voice hoarse. "Ya do 'exactly what I say, girl."

She nodded and gripped his forearm squeezing it tightly. He could see the fear in her eyes but also gratitude. Merle nodded, then stood, helping her to her feet. She was unsteady for a moment but quickly moved with him. He figured her adrenaline was pumping and numbing the pain. Merle knew the guard was at the door, so he held her wrists behind her and whispered. "Gotta be rough with ya, girl. Just play the part. Follow me."

He opened the door and roughly shoved her forward, while gripping her wrists to keep her from falling. She tripped over her feet and yelped out. The guard laughed at her and nodded his head to Merle.

"Where ya takin' her?" The man asked, while leering at her bare legs and exposed cleavage.

"Gov wants her in his private room." He stated with a fake leer, "Got a keeper."

Merle laughed gruffly while secretly wanting to punch the fuck out of the guy in front of him.

"Awesome. Maybe he'll share this time, huh?" The man laughed again and waved them by.

Merle took her wrists and walked fast, but not unusually so, down the pathway behind the corrugated metal buildings. Once at the end, he had them duck behind a short retaining wall. Running along the side, he got cover besides another building. They only needed to run to the exterior wall that had a loose panel. He was going to sneak them out and book it as fast as he could to somewhere safe. Merle was ruining his ability to return to town but for some reason it felt worth it. There was no real reason behind his choice to run with her, other than his inability to listen to the leather belt crack.

They finally made it outside the walls and he moved them through the trees avoiding the wall sentries eyes. They had no supplies and all he had on him was his prosthetic knife attachment, a hunting knife and a handgun with two clips. The girl was barefoot and barely clothed. It was cold enough that the air chilled Merle's, now sweat covered torso. There was no time to waste though so they ran. The girl was silent, God bless her and held her own while running. Merle kept looking over at her as she ran. Her legs were strong; she was in shape and was agile. Hopping over logs and climbing through thick underbrush seemed second nature to her. However he could see her favoring her right foot and an occasional hand gripping her ribs. She grunted as she landed and there was a groan when meeting an incline.

They moved for hours in the dark by the full moon. It was overcast so the light would fade in and out making the traversal of landscape difficult.

"Almost there. Creek up 'head 'n a spare bag o' mine." He explained as they slowed to move down a short but steep ditch. She nodded but didn't speak, her panting breath was all he could hear. Luckily, neither of them encountered a walker, which was somewhat surprising but much appreciated.

Merle located the creek and they found that it was low and easy to cross. When they stopped the woman splashed water on her face.

"Don' drink it." He warned her hoping she wasn't stupid enough to drink possibly contaminated water.

"I know." She said. "Just sweat in my eyes and blood clogging my nose."

He trudged up to the rock outcropping and dug out the pack he hid in a small opening behind the boulders. It was his bug-out bag, emergency supplies for a speedy exit. He was thankful he'd thought of doing it when he first arrived in camp.

"Ok let's go. We need to move. I know ya tired but we gotta." He told her while handing her water. "Slow," he grunted when she gulped quickly. Coughing a little she handed it back.

They walked fast but didn't run again. Moving through the trees Merle headed in a direction with no real end in sight. He didn't have a goal other than finding shelter and hiding out until he could get a car. Then they'd drive as far away from the hellhole called Woodbury and hopefully escape the Governor's grasp.

After another half hour of hiking they came upon a tiny strip mall of a few businesses. The end one was a discount grocery store of some kind but the others were tiny businesses. Finding one on the opposite end of the store, Merle went in and cleared it of threats. The woman came in and sat down. Her legs were trembling and he could see her hands shaking.

"Ok I'm gonna search the next couple shops. Stay here." He told her moving to the door briskly.

"Wait." She exclaimed in a hushed voice rushing towards him.

"What?" He asked gruffly. He needed to get them supplies and didn't need woman drama.

"Just…. You're coming back right?" She asked, her eyes wide.

"Yeah, girl. Be right back." He replied in his gravelly voice. Merle wasn't a softy. He was a mean old bastard who didn't care about anyone but himself and well his little brother wherever the hell he was. Merle didn't help others or do kind deeds unless they got him money, drugs or laid. Not one to obey the law or feel guilt, he wasn't a good man. He knew that but for some reason beyond him, he was helping a tiny blonde woman and he wasn't even looking to get laid. He shook his head at the absurdity of it.

Searching the next few shops Merle killed several rotting corpses. One shop was a dry cleaners where he found clothing for the woman.

'Fuck what's 'er name?' He thought. 'Fuck it. Who cares? Find 'er a place to stay and ditch 'er. Ain't needin' no ball and chain on the run. Just gonna weigh ya down.'

The discount grocery store had some canned food and a case of water. He hauled everything he found back to the tiny office she was in. The tiny blonde was sitting in the same spot, perched on the edge of the chair, her hands wringing in her lap. When he came in she stood up and grabbed the water off his shoulder he held with his prosthetic limb.

"Got some clothes. Don' know woman sizes, make 'em work." He told her shoving the plastic covered clothing at her.

"Thanks," she replied, her voice hoarse. Clearing her throat she whispered, "Why are you helping me?"

"Fuck if I know." He grumbled. "Ain't never helped no one before. Guess I drank some bad hooch or sumthin'"

She nodded. "Thanks just the same."

Not responding to her gratitude Merle detailed, "Stayin' 'er tonight. Tomorrah I can take ya back to your camp but gotta tell ya... He already knew where it was, they hit it tonight." She looked at him like he was speaking tongues. Her head turned slightly, her eyes unfocused.

Merle wondered if she had family there. If she did they were as good as dead and there was nothing she could do about it.

"My uncle was there." She offered flatly.

"He prolly ain't alive. They took it to the studs. Burned it down." He confessed, looking away from her watery eyes, the sight of it making his skin itch.

"Goin' there outta the question?" She asked her cheeks flushed, her lip gripped between her teeth.

Merle felt uncomfortable looking at her. He wasn't big on feelings. The only one useful to him was anger. It fueled most of his decisions.

"Ain't gonna help none. Nothin' to go back to… Sorry girl." Merle told her feeling anxious under her stare. Cutting his eyes away and then back to her, he saw her scrubbed her face and nod. "Ok. Ok." She mumbled.

"Gotta clean those cuts up. I don' got any bandages. Just water 'n a clean shirt." He told her gesturing for her to take the shirt off.

She looked up at him with wary eyes.

"Ain't gonna hurt ya, girl. Just got my ass on the Gov's shit list for stoppin' it from happenin'." He barked harshly.

Nodding, she sat down on a tiny love seat and turned her back to him, removing his bloody shirt. Merle hissed through his teeth. The wounds were angry and weeping, the skin inflamed and in need of antibiotics. "These are real doozies." He muttered while opening a bottle of water.

"Ya got any other cuts 'sides these 'n your lip?" Merle had no idea what else the sick fuck did to her. They left so quickly he hadn't noticed.

"I... He.." She stammered, her voice cracking.

"Spit it out girl" he growled while he wet a clean t-shirt to use on her back. She yelped at the cloth touching her wounds. "Hush," he grunted, despite tempering his touch to keep from hurting her. 

"He bit me." She answered so quickly he almost didn't understand her. Merle stopped, his hand hovering over her back. Clenching his teeth together he felt rage roll through him. It was an old feeling to Merle, he felt it almost daily but it was the reason that caused his rage that was odd. Protective. He felt protective of this stranger.

'What the fuck are ya thinkin ya pussy?' He growled to himself.

"Lemme see." He demanded, his voice low and gravelly.

"It’s on m-my chest." She stammered. Merle took a breath and let it out slowly, trying to extinguish his anger.

After a long moment he rasped, "After the lip."

He cleaned her back and then had her turn toward him. She covered her chest with his shirt while he cleaned her lip. Hissing at the pain of the rough cloth, she squeezed her eyes shut. Tears leaked down her cheeks while he worked. Merle did his best to ignore them, but couldn't stop from wiping them away with the unused part of cloth.

"Hush, gonna be fine," he stated his blue eyes burning into hers. "Lemme see."

Taking a shaky breath she lowered the shirt to show him the bite mark. It was near the center of her chest. The skin was broken and bleeding but there was no tearing, just a deep bite mark that would most likely scar. Merle wiped it with a clean part of the cloth and then grunted at her letting her know he was done.

"Get dressed." He grunted shortly, standing and walking away. His gut was twisting at the sight of her injuries. The idea of going back and gutting the sick fuck crossed his mind.

She started pulling off the plastic to the dry cleaning. Inside was a pair of black pants and sweater. Both fit her ok but the legs and arms where too long for her short frame.

"You're short as fuck, ain't ya?" He chuckled as she rolled the hems up three times.

"Shuddup" she grumbled but smirked. "Nothin wrong with being short."

"Never said there was. What's your name girl?" He asked handing her a can of fruit he scavenged.

"Sam Warren ." She replied, pulling a peach out of the tiny can.

Merle introduced himself and asked through a mouthful of fruit cocktail, "Merle Dixon. Sam short for somethin?"

"Samantha but was always called Sam." She answered, plopping another syrupy fruit in her mouth.

"So why did your group have just you out scavenging?" he asked gruffly. "No men with any balls to do the work?"

"I may not look capable but I can hold my own. Work better by myself so I usually do… did, the supply runs." Sam explained wiping her hands on her pants.

Grunting in response Merle walked to the window to keep watch. "Lay down, get some sleep."

Watching out the window Merle stood guard for the remainder of the night. Occasionally he'd look at Sam and saw her tossing and turning on the tiny sofa, her short frame filling up the small cushions.

Shaking his head, Merle scoffed at the strange situation. He just threw away a cushy life, in a secure town where he had three squares, a bed to sleep in and a few girls he liked to fuck.

Now?

Now he was out in the wild with a short little girl, who probably didn't know her ass from her elbow, even if she did claim to be able to take care of herself.

'Ain't no girl Merle. Ya saw those tits. No girl's got curves like that,' he thought but mentally kicked himself in the balls. He was a sick bastard, but that was over the line even for him. She was hurt and almost raped. Sam didn't need some dirty old man looking at her tits. Instantly Merle felt another emotion he'd never really felt before. Guilt.

"Pffft." He scoffed quietly, "Fuckin' pussy."

In the morning he woke her and made her drink and eat. 'Never had or wanted a pet before.' He grumbled to himself.

He hadn't found shoes for her, so they would have to find a vehicle soon. Her feet were torn up from running in the forest. He hadn't even looked at them the night before.

"Fuck, your feet look like shit." He growled, angry that he hadn't noticed or even thought about it.

'Dumbfuck,' he berated himself.

"Well I ran miles through the forest without shoes on." She snarked, her eyebrow raised.

"Well no need for the sass, Sugar. Jus' sayin…." He was telling her but paused when he heard a car driving over broken glass.

"Get down," he growled unceremoniously pushing her head to the ground. Crawling over to the window, he looked out. An old suburban was parked outside the looted grocery store. He could hear two people talking, a man and a woman. Merle knew it wasn't the Governor's people because he didn't send women out on hunting trips. Thinking it might be his opportunity to get a vehicle and book-it, Merle opened the door slightly. He had no qualms about stealing from people. He wasn't a good guy after all. Even with the little rescue mission he was on, he wouldn't pretend that he had morals. Merle grabbed Sam's arm, dragging her to the door and put his finger to his lips.

"Gonna take this car. Quiet." He explained without letting her answer. Being pretty sure she'd object to the theft, he wasn't going to allow her to voice an opinion on the matter.

Pulling open the door he moved along the storefront with Sam in tow, dragging her by her wrist. They were halfway there when the man and women stepped out through the broken storefront. All four froze instantly, each looking surprised and wide-eyed.

"Merle? " Glenn asked a look of confusion and shock.

Read the rest of Sweet Hereafter here:

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/11278084/1/Sweet-Hereafter

[infinitehouseofbooks]

BLITZ - 27 Revelations

DISCLAIMER: This content has been provided to INFINITE HOUSE OF BOOKS by Xpresso Book Tours. No compensation was received. This information required by the Federal Trade Commission.

27 Revelations Harlow Hayes Publication date: April 11th 2017 Genres: Adult, Contemporary

Mara Goodwin is a professional keeper of secrets, or that is what she intends to be. As a counseling psychology student at Northwestern, Mara’s ambition is unrivaled. She has the grades, the compassion, and the dedication, everything she needs to gain entry into the clinical psychology program.

However, after a traumatic experience leaves Mara in a state of mental distress, she finds herself keeping more secrets than she intended, most of them her own. Finding herself in trouble with the law, her dreams of being a therapist are jeopardized and as a consequence, Mara is ultimately forced into group therapy. While in therapy, Mara holds on to her secrets with a death grip, but when life comes full circle, her past is revealed and with it the potential to destroy her future career, her friendships, and ultimately herself.

Mara is a fighter, even if she doesn’t know it yet, but with each attempt to salvage what she can of her broken life, she is met with a consistent punch to the gut. After being pushed to the edge by meddling roommates, a persistent ex-boyfriend, and a potential new boyfriend, Mara comes to the precipice of her destruction. Yet with her destruction also comes her rebirth, and revelations of love, pain, and growth.

Goodreads / Amazon

—

EXCERPT:

“Have a seat, Mara,” she said. She directed me to an empty chair across from her desk.

The chair next to it was occupied by a firm-looking man with a serious demeanor. Dr. Bradley moved with grace across the room to her desk. She was a small woman, and when standing, I towered over her a good six inches. She had to be in her late forties, but she looked younger. She had a gentle appearance to her face, and her blonde hair cascaded softly onto her shoulders. She dressed like I used to. In heels, nice fitted skirts, and blouses varying in color from pastels to rich reds and blues. She was nothing like the other professors, who seemed to be permanently glued to their khaki pants.

I took my seat, and the man in the chair leaned back and assessed me as if he was taking inventory. I want to punch his gut for looking so hard. He wore some gray dress pants, tennis shoes, and a powder-blue polo with a badge dangling from his neck that had a number and read Probation Officer. In his lap was a manila envelope that read MARA J. GOODWIN.

“Shall we get started, then?” Dr. Bradley spoke as she adjusted herself in her seat. “Mara, this is Officer Chad Lowe.”

I reached out to shake his hand and the roughness of it made me cringe inside. They were calloused, and pieces of dry skin were flaking away.

Dr. Bradley started to speak again so I glided back into my chair, subtly rubbing the hand he had shook on my skirts to remove any skin remnants.

“He is the probation officer that the courts have assigned you. We were meeting before you arrived to discuss whether or not you will be graduating with us and continuing your education here after the events that transpired in April.”

I tilted my head down in shame like a five-year-old being told to go to the corner.

Dr. Bradley continued. “Because I am familiar with you and the circumstances regarding the medical and legal troubles that you have had this semester, I have taken it upon myself to work with you and Officer Lowe to determine whether or not you, me, and the courts can work towards a solution that allows you to finish the counseling psychology program with us and move forward as you had planned.”

I was overcome with joy. The most I had had in a very long time. They were going let me finish my degree, even after what I had done. I was certain that the decision was made out of pity and not mercy, but I didn’t care. My body became giddy with excitement.

“However, Mara, I do believe the first question that needs to be answered is whether or not you want to finish this program.”

I leaned forward in my chair. “Yes,” I said without hesitation. “I’ve worked for this my entire life. I’m not a quitter. I want to finish, I do.”

“All right,” Dr. Bradley said as she sat up in her chair with delight. “That settles that, but there are a few things that we need to discuss before we proceed. First, Mara, you need to understand that you are the exception and not the rule. We do not condone violence in any form, and most students would have been removed immediately. Physical assault on a classmate, or anyone, for that matter, is not and never will be tolerated in this program or academic institution. However, the circumstances regarding your attack on Erin and Jason played an important role in our decision and the decision of the courts.”

I nodded my head in agreement.

“In order for you finish this program and secure your future position in the clinical psychology program you will need to agree to a few terms and conditions.”

“Absolutely. Anything,” I said.

“Officer Lowe will explain in more detail next week when you meet at his office because we are short on time today, but you will need to abide by the rules of your probation as it is set by the courts. Also, you will need to make up the clinical hours that you missed this past semester this summer and fall in order to graduate on time to be eligible to start classes second semester. Officer Lowe, is there anything else you would like to add?”

I looked over at him, sitting in the chair, fingering the pen in his hand.

“Ms. Goodwin, as Dr. Bradley has stated, I am your assigned probation officer. She has spoken highly of you and has informed me that you are tenacious, gritty, and dedicated to your studies. I trust that you will do what is necessary for you to remain a student here.” He opened the manila folder. “According to her and other character witnesses, you are a model student and your records show that you have had no previous encounters with the law, no priors and such.” He closed the envelope. “So I am hoping that you will continue being a model student and citizen. Make the right choices and things will be easy.”

“You will be required to meet with me once every two weeks to discuss your academic progress,” Dr. Bradley said.

“And according to the judge,” said Officer Lowe, “you will also be required to complete three hundred hours of community service, but the judge was lenient and arranged for your clinical hours to count towards this. You’re a lucky girl, Ms. Goodwin, very lucky.” And as the word lucky left his mouth, my smile turned to a frown. Lucky is not what I would describe the unfortunate event that got me in this mess in the first place. Dr. Bradley knew what he said struck a nerve.

“Lucky, huh?” I said as I stared at him. I could feel the hardness in my face.

“Thank you so much, Officer Lowe,” Dr. Bradley said hastily as she reached out to shake his hand. “I know Mara will be on top of things.”

“Yeah, thanks,” I said, still hearing the tension in my voice as he stood to leave.

“Thank the judge,” Lowe said. “I’ll see you in my office next week.” He walked toward the door and grabbed the door knob but paused before he opened it. “And Ms. Goodwin, there is one more thing.”

I turned in the chair so I could see him.

“You must also attend a weekly support group.”

The sweats were back. This time with a vengeance.

“Yes, Mara, I almost forgot,” Dr. Bradley said. “Dr. Moore has started a therapy group for some of the clients she’s been working with, she believes that having you there would be a nice addition.”

Group therapy? I was going to kill Dr. Moore.

“I will be in contact with Dr. Moore to make sure that you are meeting the conditions of your probation. Good luck.” He walked out and shut the door behind him.

I was glad he was gone. I needed to speak to Dr. Bradley alone.

“Dr. Bradley, I like Dr. Moore and I am glad you recommended her to me, but I don’t think I can—”

“Mara, she wouldn’t want you there if you couldn’t handle it. It’s all a part of getting you better, and now it’s part of the deal so…” She threw her hands up in defeat.

I couldn’t fight it. I couldn’t say anything. That was the deal. Not doing it wasn’t worth putting my education on the line. Finishing this master’s and ultimately my Ph.D. had been my dream for the past seven years. Besides, I had accumulated too much student loan debt, so I needed that Ph.D. salary coming out. I stood up and made my way to the door and Dr. Bradley followed.

“Thanks again,” I said, dazed as the storm cloud seized my mind again.

She patted me on my back. “You need to heal.”

I knew she was just trying to help, but I didn’t want to hear that soppy crap. I had to go to group and share with strangers. Just more mess inserted in my life against my will. My own knowledge and seeing Dr. Moore once a week was fine. I didn’t need a third intervention. I could take care of myself. Just me in my own little corner, minding my mind, minding my own business. I didn’t need anybody.

  Author Bio:

I have loved writing ever since I was a young child in school and after years of procrastination I finally decided to go for it and write my first novel. When I’m not writing or reading I love spending time with my puppy, listening to music, and binge watching shows on Netflix.

Website / Goodreads / Facebook / Twitter

GIVEAWAY! a Rafflecopter giveaway

BLITZ – 27 Revelations was originally published on the Wordpress version of SHANNON MUIR'S INFINITE HOUSE OF BOOKS.

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Release Day Blitz: 27 Revelations by Harlow Hayes (Excerpt + Giveaway)

27 Revelations Harlow Hayes Publication date: April 11th 2017 Genres: Adult, Contemporary

Mara Goodwin is a professional keeper of secrets, or that is what she intends to be. As a counseling psychology student at Northwestern, Mara’s ambition is unrivaled. She has the grades, the compassion, and the dedication, everything she needs to gain entry into the clinical psychology program. However, after a traumatic experience leaves Mara in a state of mental distress, she finds herself keeping more secrets than she intended, most of them her own. Finding herself in trouble with the law, her dreams of being a therapist are jeopardized and as a consequence, Mara is ultimately forced into group therapy. While in therapy, Mara holds on to her secrets with a death grip, but when life comes full circle, her past is revealed and with it the potential to destroy her future career, her friendships, and ultimately herself. Mara is a fighter, even if she doesn’t know it yet, but with each attempt to salvage what she can of her broken life, she is met with a consistent punch to the gut. After being pushed to the edge by meddling roommates, a persistent ex-boyfriend, and a potential new boyfriend, Mara comes to the precipice of her destruction. Yet with her destruction also comes her rebirth, and revelations of love, pain, and growth.

Goodreads / Amazon

—

EXCERPT:

“Have a seat, Mara,” she said. She directed me to an empty chair across from her desk.

The chair next to it was occupied by a firm-looking man with a serious demeanor. Dr. Bradley moved with grace across the room to her desk. She was a small woman, and when standing, I towered over her a good six inches. She had to be in her late forties, but she looked younger. She had a gentle appearance to her face, and her blonde hair cascaded softly onto her shoulders. She dressed like I used to. In heels, nice fitted skirts, and blouses varying in color from pastels to rich reds and blues. She was nothing like the other professors, who seemed to be permanently glued to their khaki pants. I took my seat, and the man in the chair leaned back and assessed me as if he was taking inventory. I want to punch his gut for looking so hard. He wore some gray dress pants, tennis shoes, and a powder-blue polo with a badge dangling from his neck that had a number and read Probation Officer. In his lap was a manila envelope that read MARA J. GOODWIN. “Shall we get started, then?” Dr. Bradley spoke as she adjusted herself in her seat. “Mara, this is Officer Chad Lowe.” I reached out to shake his hand and the roughness of it made me cringe inside. They were calloused, and pieces of dry skin were flaking away. Dr. Bradley started to speak again so I glided back into my chair, subtly rubbing the hand he had shook on my skirts to remove any skin remnants. “He is the probation officer that the courts have assigned you. We were meeting before you arrived to discuss whether or not you will be graduating with us and continuing your education here after the events that transpired in April.” I tilted my head down in shame like a five-year-old being told to go to the corner. Dr. Bradley continued. “Because I am familiar with you and the circumstances regarding the medical and legal troubles that you have had this semester, I have taken it upon myself to work with you and Officer Lowe to determine whether or not you, me, and the courts can work towards a solution that allows you to finish the counseling psychology program with us and move forward as you had planned.” I was overcome with joy. The most I had had in a very long time. They were going let me finish my degree, even after what I had done. I was certain that the decision was made out of pity and not mercy, but I didn’t care. My body became giddy with excitement. “However, Mara, I do believe the first question that needs to be answered is whether or not you want to finish this program.” I leaned forward in my chair. “Yes,” I said without hesitation. “I’ve worked for this my entire life. I’m not a quitter. I want to finish, I do.” “All right,” Dr. Bradley said as she sat up in her chair with delight. “That settles that, but there are a few things that we need to discuss before we proceed. First, Mara, you need to understand that you are the exception and not the rule. We do not condone violence in any form, and most students would have been removed immediately. Physical assault on a classmate, or anyone, for that matter, is not and never will be tolerated in this program or academic institution. However, the circumstances regarding your attack on Erin and Jason played an important role in our decision and the decision of the courts.” I nodded my head in agreement. “In order for you finish this program and secure your future position in the clinical psychology program you will need to agree to a few terms and conditions.” “Absolutely. Anything,” I said. “Officer Lowe will explain in more detail next week when you meet at his office because we are short on time today, but you will need to abide by the rules of your probation as it is set by the courts. Also, you will need to make up the clinical hours that you missed this past semester this summer and fall in order to graduate on time to be eligible to start classes second semester. Officer Lowe, is there anything else you would like to add?” I looked over at him, sitting in the chair, fingering the pen in his hand. “Ms. Goodwin, as Dr. Bradley has stated, I am your assigned probation officer. She has spoken highly of you and has informed me that you are tenacious, gritty, and dedicated to your studies. I trust that you will do what is necessary for you to remain a student here.” He opened the manila folder. “According to her and other character witnesses, you are a model student and your records show that you have had no previous encounters with the law, no priors and such.” He closed the envelope. “So I am hoping that you will continue being a model student and citizen. Make the right choices and things will be easy.” “You will be required to meet with me once every two weeks to discuss your academic progress,” Dr. Bradley said. “And according to the judge,” said Officer Lowe, “you will also be required to complete three hundred hours of community service, but the judge was lenient and arranged for your clinical hours to count towards this. You’re a lucky girl, Ms. Goodwin, very lucky.” And as the word lucky left his mouth, my smile turned to a frown. Lucky is not what I would describe the unfortunate event that got me in this mess in the first place. Dr. Bradley knew what he said struck a nerve. “Lucky, huh?” I said as I stared at him. I could feel the hardness in my face. “Thank you so much, Officer Lowe,” Dr. Bradley said hastily as she reached out to shake his hand. “I know Mara will be on top of things.” “Yeah, thanks,” I said, still hearing the tension in my voice as he stood to leave. “Thank the judge,” Lowe said. “I’ll see you in my office next week.” He walked toward the door and grabbed the door knob but paused before he opened it. “And Ms. Goodwin, there is one more thing.” I turned in the chair so I could see him. “You must also attend a weekly support group.” The sweats were back. This time with a vengeance. “Yes, Mara, I almost forgot,” Dr. Bradley said. “Dr. Moore has started a therapy group for some of the clients she’s been working with, she believes that having you there would be a nice addition.” Group therapy? I was going to kill Dr. Moore. “I will be in contact with Dr. Moore to make sure that you are meeting the conditions of your probation. Good luck.” He walked out and shut the door behind him. I was glad he was gone. I needed to speak to Dr. Bradley alone. “Dr. Bradley, I like Dr. Moore and I am glad you recommended her to me, but I don’t think I can—” “Mara, she wouldn’t want you there if you couldn’t handle it. It’s all a part of getting you better, and now it’s part of the deal so…” She threw her hands up in defeat. I couldn’t fight it. I couldn’t say anything. That was the deal. Not doing it wasn’t worth putting my education on the line. Finishing this master’s and ultimately my Ph.D. had been my dream for the past seven years. Besides, I had accumulated too much student loan debt, so I needed that Ph.D. salary coming out. I stood up and made my way to the door and Dr. Bradley followed. “Thanks again,” I said, dazed as the storm cloud seized my mind again. She patted me on my back. “You need to heal.” I knew she was just trying to help, but I didn’t want to hear that soppy crap. I had to go to group and share with strangers. Just more mess inserted in my life against my will. My own knowledge and seeing Dr. Moore once a week was fine. I didn’t need a third intervention. I could take care of myself. Just me in my own little corner, minding my mind, minding my own business. I didn’t need anybody.

Author Bio: I have loved writing ever since I was a young child in school and after years of procrastination I finally decided to go for it and write my first novel. When I'm not writing or reading I love spending time with my puppy, listening to music, and binge watching shows on Netflix.

Website / Goodreads / Facebook / Twitter

GIVEAWAY! a Rafflecopter giveaway