#this person who is a stranger to me just told everyone her dad died recently

[albedobeheading]

zoom meetings are an exercise in making appropriate facial expressions when people say anything

[racheloveyunho]

Till Death do us part - 2

Y/N grew up in a wealthy family, she always was seen as a beautiful and smart kid and was most likely to take her father’s place as the CEO of one of the most important companies in South Korea. However, after the death of her mother, Y/N’s family slowly started to break apart. Her father was always working to forget his uncalled pain while his kids were left alone at home.

She was 17 years old when her life took a sudden turn when she met him in a dark alley. He was a bloody mess, bruises everywhere but behind blood and dirt, she could see his beautiful features and his addictive gaze. Maybe she should have walked away, maybe she shouldn’t have helped him, but the moment his gaze locked with hers, she was already his.

Choi San was his name.

Genre: Mafia AU, smut, angst, fluff, stranger to lovers

Words: 2237

TW series: Y/N is described as an OC. Please be aware that this story will contain a lot of triggering content such as smut, blood, death, murder, drug, kidnapping, etc. Do not read if you are under a legal age!

TW chapter: Body shaming, reader being forced into a marriage, character got slapped, swearing, threats.

I was finally back home. Fortunately for me, my dad hadn’t noticed me since he was already sleeping on the couch.

I quickly went upstairs to my room and collapsed on my bed, my mind still processing what had happened earlier. It was scary to say the least but fascinating at the same time. I was still confused even after showering. This San had a deep effect on me, not only mentally but physically too.

“Choi San…” I muttered before closing my eyes and drifting into a deep sleep.

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Chapter 2

2 years after.

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Days and months went by so fast, I didn't even see them go by.

It has already been two years since my first meeting with San and since then, I didn't met him again. However, he was still on my mind, from the moment I woke up tired in the morning until the moment my head was hitting the pillow at night.

I just couldn't stop myself from thinking about him, his voice, his gaze, his touch, and the shivers he gave me when his mouth had come close to my ear.

"Hey sis’, what is going on? You had been absent-minded for a while and I still don't know why" Jin said with a hint of worry in his voice before he looked around, checking the surroundings to make sure we were alone "Is it because of dad?" he asked.

For the first time since our mother passed away, dad was at home for a whole month without any explanation. He was now working from home and even though It was something I dreamed of a few years ago, it was now so stuffy, I couldn’t breathe properly in my own house. Every single time I went outside of the comfort of my room, I silently prayed not to meet him, hoping that our house was big enough to let me avoid him.

"I'm fine but I'll be better if he wasn't around" I shrugged while looking at my plate "I'm not hungry today" I nonchalantly played with my food.

"Please force yourself and eat a little, you loosed too much weight recently" he furrowed his eyebrows with true concern in his soft brown eyes.

"I'm fine Jin, really! No need to worry for me" I stood up but felt a hand on my shoulder, stopping me in my track.

I turned around and saw my dad with his usual stern expression "Sit down." he calmly ordered.

I sat down without a word, I knew I was about to be lectured one more time.

"Why are you not eating?" my dad asked, voice sounding more as a threat than a question.

"Not hungry" I simply answered.

A long silence settled in the dining room, Jin and I were looking down, trying to avoid any eye contact with the man we referred to as our dad. I laughed internally at the situation, wondering if the kids in other families were afraid of their parents too.

"You don't have to eat if you don't want to, men love slim girls so it'll be good for you to start a diet." He stated, unbothered by the awkward silence.

I was annoyed by his remark 'how dare he' I thought 'Is he thinking my body is his?'

"I'll be dumb if I'd choose a man who loves me just for my body, I will not change anything for anyone" I retorted, Jin nodding in approval, visibly proud of me. But, my father didn’t seem pleased at all by my answer and my rebellious behavior.

"Well, I wasn't talking about any random man, but about your fiancé. He likes slim girls." my dad crossed his arms.

I shot a glance back at my father with wide eyes, he was smirking over my shocked expression, feeling visibly satisfied by the way he made me go silent.

"My fiancé? What are you talking about? I never had a boyfriend in my whole life, how could I have a fiancé?" I shouted, standing up from my chair which quickly and loudly fell on the ground.

"I chose a good boy for you, he is the son of a rich politician who will be useful to me and the future of my company. In two months, when you'll turn 20, you will marry him" he said, not sparing a glance at me as he busily taped on the screen of his new expensive phone.

My mouth was now wide open, and so was my brother's.

Jin stood up angrily, it was the first time I ever saw him defy our father's authority. His brown eyes who always seemed so soft to me were now darker than ever. The anger in his body was showing with his tensed muscles and the vein in his forehead that was angrily popping up. His jaw was so tight, I swore he could have been able to break his own teeth.

"What to do you mean she will marry him? Are you not concerned about your daughter's happiness? Can't you stop thinking about your work and think more about your family instead, for at least once in your life? That's why mom died! You-..." Jin got slapped by my father before he could even finish his sentence. Our father’s face was red and rage was visible through his eyes.

I gasped and kneeled myself to my brother's side, the impact was so hard that he was now laying on the ground, his right hand hiding his red cheek. Jin shot a death stare up at my father who was still standing in front of us.

"I heard that you want to integrate the Seoul national university, Y/N. You will need money for that, right? If you marry this man, I'll give you all the money you want. If not, you can already say goodbye to this dream of yours." he told me with a harsh voice "Think well cause your birthday is coming up" he added before exiting the room.

I collapsed on the floor, tears were stinging my eyes and blurring my vision. Jin hugged me tightly and patted my back, whispering sweet nothings to my ear to comfort me the best he could.

I hid my head on his neck and cried silently, I hated this, hated this situation, hated this life. I was like a bird trapped in a silver cage.

I ate nothing for the rest of the day after my dad had announced my upcoming wedding.

I still couldn't believe it. I didn't want to believe it. How come a father could do this to his only daughter? Wasn't he supposed to love and cherish me?

It was Saturday and after a lazy morning, I finally stood up to do my daily routine. I put the prettiest dress I had on my dressing and put natural makeup on. I tried my best to cover up my dark circles and hide the exhaustion in my face caused by a long night of crying.

Today, my best friend Hana and I, planned to hang out together for a shopping day. It was the best way for me to think about something else than my current situation.

I took a look at my phone and saw her message "Hey honey, I'm waiting in front of your house~" I read before smiling and joining her outside the house, in front of the big gateway.

"Wow, you are stunning! Why is that? You're going to meet this San again?" She smiled widely.

Hana is the first friend I ever made in my life, I first met her when I was just 6 years old and she always stayed by my side even when I went through hard times. Her cheerful personality and her warm smile made her easy to get along with, she was the best at socializing, she was literally a burst of energy by herself and never failed to make me crack up a smile even when I wasn’t in a good mood. She made everyone feel attracted to her, she wasn’t only nice and outgoing but beautiful and funny as well. Her short and messy hair were completing her chubby cheeks and her brown eyes. Her tall frame and perfect curves made everyone drool over her, men and women.

She knew everything about my life. When something happened to me, she was the first one I talked to.

"I already told you! I know nothing about him, I don't even have his phone number, how could I meet him?" I pouted before laughing playfully.

We took the first bus we saw and headed downtown.

"It's a shame he isn't on any social media" she whined loudly "Dude, don't get me started" I answered, almost complaining.

During the bus ride, I talked once again about how I felt about San and the gorgeous charisma he had. Hana listened to me as if it was the first time I talked about this whilst I already told her a hundred times before.

Within ten minutes, we had reached our destination.

"Y/N! Look at this! I'm sure this top will fit you perfectly" I heard Hana yelling from the other side of the shop.

Everyone looked at us, some customers were judging us silently while others smiled, probably finding amusement in my friend’s behavior.  I apologized to the other customers for the noise and quickly went to my friend's side, slightly embarrassed even though I was used to it. Hana didn't know the word "silent".

After 3 hours of shopping, I went outside to eat ice cream with Hana. We moved to a quiet spot with no one around. The weather was nice, it was a sunny day and I let myself relax under the comfortable heat.  I always liked rainy days better but I liked to feel the sun against my skin from time to time.

"I'm sorry to say this Y/N, but your father is truly an asshole" Hana swore between her teeth after I told her what happened at home the previous day.

"I don't know what I'm going to do about this. Is it better to agree and then divorce this guy? But my dad is well-known, he always will find a way to keep me under his grip, no matter what I do. I feel completely useless and trapped, I can’t find a good way to escape from this" I spoke in a low tone, sadness filling my voice the more I talked.

I sighed, concerned by the situation I was into. Hana gently rubbed my back to give me some comfort while my head was on her shoulder. We stayed silent for a few minutes, both of us didn’t know what to say because we both knew that there was no way I could escape my fate.

"Excuse me, are you Kim Y/N?"

I turned around to see who had called my name. In front of me stood was a well-dressed man, a bit older than me with a confident look. He wasn't especially handsome, but he wasn't unpleasant to look at. He had this classic Korean vibe one could find everywhere here in Korea.

"Yes? Who are you?" I politely asked.

He took my hand in his own, making me stand up from the bench I was sitting in. Soon after, he put a slight kiss on the back of my hand.

"What the hell?" I shouted and took my hand off his.

It wasn't in our culture to do something like this so I first assumed he had grown up abroad but honestly, from what I knew, even in the USA or Europa no one kissed a perfect stranger met in the street less than ten seconds ago.

"Who the heck are you?" Hana jumped between the man and me.

"I'm Hwang Jinyoung, her future husband" he simply stated, a smirk on his face.

"I never agreed on that." I frowned my eyebrows at his statement.

"What do you mean you never agreed? Your father told us that you were glad to be my future wife" The man seemed truly surprised or at least, he was pretending well to be.

"He lied!" I yelled out, the anger taking over me while I clenched my fists, nails finding their way onto y skin.

I was angry that my father had one more time, talked for me without my consent. My body was shaking from anger while the man laughed at my reaction.

"Move, you're in my way" He suddenly stopped laughing and violently pushed Hana to the ground.

My eyes opened wide from the shock. I was about to check on Hana to be sure she wasn't hurt but Jinyoung grabbed my wrist and pulled me in his chest.

"Why are you so angry? I will take good care of you!" he chuckled.

"Let me go!" I screamed against him, feeling the tears tingling my eyes.

I suddenly felt a strong arm around my waist which encircled me from behind.

"Holy shit." Hana gasped when she saw the handsome man who was protectively hugging me.

I had no need to look back, I already knew who it was. This touch and this warmness were simply unforgettable.

"If you don't let her go in the next five seconds, I'll blow your hands off." the voice behind me growled against Jinyoung.

The beating of my heart quickened. For the past two years I had dreamed about him every night and now, I was finally able to see him again.

"San!" I shouted happily, finally looking to the handsome boy. He smiled back atme but his expression became cold again as he stared at Jinyoung. My so-called husband finally let my wrist go and hardly swallowed his spit.

"Y-you! What are you doing here?" he asked with a shaking voice. I had no doubt about the fact that he knew who San was and that he probably knew him better than I did.

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Edit: Guys, I'm so surprised, I didn't think I would get so many likes for this series, I just uploaded it two days ago after all lol but I'm glad! The next chapter is already done but I'll wait a bit before uploading it, maybe next week? Anyways, thank you again!

Tag list:

@hijirikaww @pinkchampagne2

[plus-size-reader]

Allies

Matt Murdock x Plus size!reader

Word Count: 2075 words

Warnings: none 

Summary: Wilson Fisk’s daughter learns something very interesting about her past, something that leads her right to Matt Murdock’s doorstep

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You wanted him dead.

Never in your life had you wanted your father dead, not as incredible as he’d always been to you, but that had all changed recently.

Wilson Fisk, the most wonderful father in the world, had always done everything he could for you. There was nothing you wanted that you hadn’t gotten, in all your life.

As far as the material things life had to offer, you always had everything you wanted, but there was one thing that you couldn’t forget. There was one thing that you wanted more than anything that he couldn’t give to you.

...and that same thing, was the one thing he’d taken from you, it seemed.

Your mother, an angel walking among the monsters of this planet, had died when you were fourteen years old. She was in an accident, laid up in the hospital for a week, and then died in the middle of the night.

Ever since then, all you wanted was her. You wanted to hear her voice again, to hug her again, but that wasn’t a luxury you had. No one did, no matter how much they wanted it.

That was what your dad told you, whenever you asked about her. He said that he wanted the same, that he missed her dearly, but you were beginning to think that was all a lie.

You heard him talking about her, to Wesley, the biggest weasel of all time. He talked about how the events unfolded, how he tried to fake an accident, and how she wasn’t supposed to survive.

He talked about having to find a way to ‘put her down’ from the hospital, while she slept in that bed. That was how he phrased it, like putting down a rabid dog.

It was nearly enough to make you sick.

You weren’t supposed to hear it, supposed to ever learn the truth, but that didn’t change the fact that you did. From the moment those words left his lips, you could hardly look at him.

However, there was a sort of beauty in the way you found out. You were able to find out without having to figure out the hard way, and no one knew that you knew.

It was all you’d been waiting for.

For some reason, as soon as you knew the truth, it was as if you were seeing the world with fresh eyes. Everything your father had ever told you, especially about your mother, was a lie. It forced you to call into question everything you knew about the world around you.

There was just no way around it.

Perhaps what you did next was foolish, some kind of pathetic rebellion against the only family you had left. Though, at the moment, you didn’t care about that.

All you cared about was getting back at the man you thought you loved for what he’d done. From this second on, Wilson Fisk might as well have been a complete stranger.

He certainly wasn’t the man who raised you, and he never would be again.

He was a murderer, and naturally, that led to the only man in Hell’s Kitchen who could help you figure out what your next step would be. They called him the Devil, but the way you were feeling, you may have made a deal with the actual devil.

Your mother was murdered, taken from you for no reason other than your father’s greed and selfish rage. That wasn’t enough for you, it was never going to be enough.

He could die for all you cared, it didn’t matter.

You had been loyal to your father, your only family, for far too long but without that bond, you didn’t have any reason to care what happened to him. Without that, he was just another criminal who needed to be brought down.

...And you knew just the man for the job.

The first time you saw him in person was at Vanessa’s art house, carrying a white cane that you were sure served him no purpose.

You had only ever seen pictures before, of Matt Murdock, but you’d been watching countless hours of footage of that man in the mask, of the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen, and you could have spotted him anywhere.

It was a shot in the dark, something you could have been wrong about, but you didn’t think so. You didn’t have much of a choice, in the state you were in, and you were desperate.

You needed to see someone, anyone, that wasn’t directly in the pocket of your father and his men. As best you could tell, this masked man was one of the only people in the world who wasn’t.

This was all you could do.

Casually, you made your way over to him, a soft smile on your face. You knew that he couldn't’ see you but this wasn’t about making a good impression on him. This was about making everyone else believe that you were what they thought. As long as you were daddy’s little girl, the apple of his eye, there would be no reason for your father to question what you were doing. For right now, that was the best you could do.

“Looking for someone?” you asked, a soft smile on his face. You weren’t entirely sure what you wanted to say, how to proceed, but you knew that you had to try.

After all, he was your only hope. It wasn’t like there were a million other people waiting around to help you find justice for your mother.  

“Oh hello, I’m Matt Murdock” he smiled, doing his best to come off as unassuming and nonthreatening. You were hanging on his every word, waiting for a chance to say what you wanted to say, but you didn’t have to.

Frankly, he knew who you were, and assumed that you had nothing of value to say to him. Though, he was only partially right.

When you opened your mouth to speak again, you said something about your favorite painting on the far side of the gallery but what he was focused more on was the piece of paper you slipped into his hand.

You gave no indication of what you wanted on your face, but your heart was hammering against your ribcage, indicating that whatever it was made you pretty nervous.

Whatever it was, it was dangerous.

“My father is here, Mr.Murdock. If you’ll excuse me” you allowed, moving slowly away from the man over to where your father and his men had just started toward the doors.

You knew that your plan was foolproof, at least for now, but that did little to ease your paranoia. Everything had to go perfectly, or you weren’t sure what would happen.

Nothing guaranteed your safety, especially not now that you knew just how far your father was willing to go to get what he wanted.

You had to be careful, more careful now than ever before.

“Of course” he hummed, sticking the tiny slip of paper in his pant pocket, hiding it away from any prying eyes. Whatever it was you needed, it would be a lie to say that he wasn’t a tad bit curious.

Having you as a contact would certainly put him a bit closer to Fisk than anything else would. If nothing else, it would be an interesting development in this whole thing.

It wasn’t like you could lie to him, after all.

~

The slip of paper you’d handed Matt was embossed with braille, something that shouldn’t have impressed him as much as he did. You had the resources to figure out something like that, and you certainly were smart enough.

More than anything though, you decided that it would be the most private option you’d have for a private conversation with Matt. Most people wouldn’t be able to understand the meaning of each tiny, punched dot.

It only enforced the idea that only the two of you could understand what it meant. He had to admit, it was a bit eccentric, but much better than if you just handed him a written note.

That would do very little for either of you.

Even more interesting than that, however, was the context of your note. What you wanted from him wasn’t even outlined, nor was any sort of contact information.

All that was there was a single thing, in the center of the sheet, a time.

It hardly meant anything to him in the moment, standing there on the corner of the street, feeling over the raised ridges of each number. It wasn’t possible he’d read it wrong, or that he’d misunderstood.

All you’d included was a time, ten o’clock, to be exact.

It didn’t make any sense, and it wouldn’t until, of course, ten o’clock that evening, when you knocked on the front door of his apartment. It was out of the blue, and more or less a total intrusion, but you didn’t care.

You didn’t have the luxury of caring.

In a perfect world, you wouldn’t have had to partake in something so strange, and so late in the evening, but this was the best you could do. With what he recently happened to Vanessa, and all the enemies your father had, he didn’t let you out of his sight.

You’d had to sneak out away from his men as it was, and you had no idea how long you’d be able to be out before they tracked you down and dragged you back home again.

For such a nice place, the palace your father had built was beginning to feel like a prison.

“Good afternoon, Mr.Murdock. I apologize for coming on such short notice” you tried, doing your best to keep your wits about you, in such a strange time.

You liked to think that you were the smartest person in every room, like you were three steps ahead of everyone, but that wasn’t necessarily the case in a place like this.

Matt Murdock could easily get the best of you if he tried.

“What do you want? It’s a little unusual isn’t it? You coming here, alone” he clarified, noting how in the past, you were always accompanied by at least one armed man.

It didn’t seem right to have you here, all alone, without any explanation of why you were here.

“I didn’t have a choice, did I? My father’s men would have your head on a stick if they knew I was here” you sighed, only moving again when Matt stepped back, a clear sign that he wanted you to come in.

You had a point, as strange as it was.

If anyone saw you here, there was no telling what kind of trouble it would cause. It was bad enough that men were trying to kill him constantly when he left his home, but if they knew who he was, it would be so much worse.

...And the last thing you wanted was to ruin his life. After all, you needed his help.

“I’ll make this quick Mr.Murdock, I came to propose something to you” you started, hoping to get this over with as quickly as possible. He could either help you or not, and it wouldn’t take long for him to decide.

Every minute you were here, you put both of your lives in danger, more than they already were.

“It has recently come to my attention that my father butchered my mother, something I cannot let stand. I would like to help you, in your plan to bring him down”

It was a pretty good sell, as far as you were concerned. No one in their right mind would turn it down, and unfortunately, Matt agreed.

While being allies wasn’t something he was excited about, or looking forward to, in any way, it did make sense. You would have an insight into what your father was doing that he couldn’t hope to have without cracking some skulls.

Unfortunately, it seemed like the best option he had at the moment, and there was no way he’d turn it down. Clearly, you must have been sort of desperate to come to him.

It didn’t hurt that your heartbeat had maintained its steady rhythm the entire time you’d been talking, something he took to mean you weren’t intending to lie.

Whatever your father had done, it seemed obvious that there was no going back from it.

[acourtofsnakes]

Tor - Rogue, Chapter 3| The Mandalorian x Force Sensitive! Reader (f)

Summary: A little bit of Mando pov for you all!! It’s a shorter chapter, just kind of the same as the previous but from our Space Dad’s point of view this time. Though there may be a little hint of your decision at the end…

Warnings: Injury detail/blood, swearing, angst? Hints of fluff?

AN: There’s a very small ‘blink and you’ll miss it’ reference to a certain Dornish prince and his nickname in here too. Wonder if you’ll find it? 👀

Also, thank you to @ithinkwehitametaphor​ for sending me the gif! i couldn’t for the life of me find it and you honestly saved my life 

Wordcount: About 3465

Rogue Taglist: @snipskixandbeskar​  @weirdowithnobeardo​

Rogue Masterlist | Introduction| 1: Solus| 2: Arir | 3: Tor | 4: Gaa'tayl ​

Mando’a Translation: Tor – justice 

He always thought it would end like this. Never in some big blaze of blaster fire or with his ship, but in some back alley, bleeding out, alone. 

Hell, maybe he deserved it. He’d killed enough people to warrant this end, slumped on the floor, too weak to save himself. 

He didn’t deserve a warrior’s death, a Mandalorian’s death. Not after all he had done.

Of course, it was his duty, his honour as a Mandalorian and a bounty hunter but… that sacred Creed did nothing to stop the thoughts that plagued him at night, the whispers that hissed in his ear during his waking hours. 

He almost laughed at himself. 

The Creed was all he had. 

Until…. Until the kid had come along. 

Until he saw that little wrinkly baby in the crib and… it had all changed. 

He couldn’t kill it, him, couldn’t take it back to the Client or his Clones. 

One look at that damn little silver ball, and eveyrhting went straight out the window. 

Fuck the Guild code. He would never kill a child, an innocent being that couldn’t even talk, could only make those little cooing sounds that even he had to admit were adorable. 

Rescuing him… it had given him something to live for. Something to fill his days and a reason not to go hurtling helmet first into danger with no regard for his own safety. 

Except… well, no. That wasn’t strictly true was it. He’d become more reckless since that moment, the rules that his bound his life for so long were slowly coming undone bit by bit. All of which made him so reckless, so… desperate?

You only had to look at the sheer amount of people lining up for his and the kid’s head to prove that. 

So maybe he didn’t always make the smartest decisions, but they were still alive, weren’t they? Had friends to help them if he needed it. 

In a short time, he’d gone from being Judge, Jury and Executioner, to being the person that people called when they needed help. Sometimes people didn’t even call him. He just showed up and offered his services. 

And truth be told… he liked it. He liked people looking at him with hope and admiration, rather than fear and jealousy. He liked the way people fussed over the kid, asking if Mando was taking good care of the child. Like they were a family. 

A Clan.

The sigil on his armour said as much. Him and the kid. A unit of two rogues. 

That’s what it all came down to, in the end. Everything was to keep Grogu safe. That’s why he stuck to the Outer Rim, taking jobs that would draw him further away from those that relentlessly hunting them, those who wanted to harm the Child. Besides, he needed the credits that came with the big jobs. Taking care of the little womp rat was expensive. Not to mention there was always something falling apart on his ship. 

So, when that guy in the hood had cornered him in the bar, given him the fob and told him about the bounty that no one could catch, he’d taken it without a thought. He’d had so many over the years that were supposedly uncatchable that the word had nearly lost its meaning. And this stranger had obviously sensed that, explained that it was true. Reeled off the sheer amount of hunters that had been sent that way, Imps, Trandoshans, Empire workers, IG-11 robots, even another Mandalorian. After hearing that list, Mando had expected some high-level bounty. An escapee from the deepest pits of the darkest prisons, someone who had done terrible, terrible things.

So… when he’d activated the puck, and the hologram of a woman’s face had come up… he was shocked. This woman… she was beautiful. Still young. She didn’t look like she bathed in the blood of her enemies, or killed children and babies, she looked… well, not exactly harmless. There was a glint in her eyes even on the hologram, a spark that warned of danger, promised pain to anyone that tried to hurt her. 

A survivor’s look. 

Something niggled at him, a feeling he couldn’t quite place. It might have been hesitation, but he ignored it. The bounty over her head was enough that he could take Grogu to one of those sanctuary planets and lay low for a few weeks. Maybe even a few months. The kid deserved it, to be able to play and explore. 

And himself… Maker, he was just so tired. 

So, he’d pocketed the puck and the fob, didn’t ask who the client was, went back to the Crest and then he was on his way to Sorgan. 

Maybe it would take him a little longer than usual to bring the girl in, but it was nothing that he hadn’t done before. After all, stealing back the kid, breaking into a prison, everything else that had occurred recently… this was a walk in the park. 

He still believed that, right up to tracking you. Even when he chased you. 

He had to admit, he did love it when they ran, even if his back was killing him. 

Something about the chase, the frantic fear of the prey as he hunted them down, the conclusion inevitable. It thrilled him. 

But… this felt.. different. 

You were different. You fought like it was a dance, whirling across the clearing and around his punches like there was a song only you could hear. And you were taunting him, laughing as you did. You lived for this, like you had been bred for it. No… you’d been shaped by it, shaped by the choice of cowering or turning into a wolf. A wolf, like those he’d seen in Lothal.

You were strong, you fought well, he had to give you that much. He knew he would have to work for it, but with the promise of safety lingering, he matched you move for move, determined to hold this out as long as it took. 

He’d read your file, read what had happened and used that to his advantage. The words had come easily, even though they had stirred something inside him, perhaps a mirror of the feelings he was encouraging in you. 

But then… then you just gave in. Straight away. And not like the others did. Not in the way that they had, thinking it would make him go easier, change his mind.

No, you had completely, utterly given up.  He saw it in your eyes. Saw that survivors glint gutter out, a wolf tamed back into her cage with her tail between her legs. 

And… it threw him. He had touched something, caught something deep within you as he taunted you. Something broken… that again whispered to his own deepest thoughts. Like calling to like. 

He’d ignored it, pushing that thought back into the part of his minds where his darker thoughts lay slumbering – for now. He’d carried you back to the Crest, shackled you to the wall and had made to leave you there. 

Only, he had seen that the wound on your shoulder was torn open again, ripped by your fight and his jamming with the rifle. It was bleeding through your tunic, and even with unconsciousness heavy in your body, you still looked somewhat pained. 

He’d hovered there, staring at the bleeding wound and having some kind of internal battle. 

It wasn’t fatal. It was just a recent injury that had torn open. You’d be fine. He nodded, turning around and making all of one step. 

But. A Trandoshan had been the last person to hunt you. They relished in the hunt, had probably fought dirty and used a poison. It might be infected. What if you died on his way back to dropping you off? Or got really, really sick?

Nevermind. The messenger for the Client stated you had to be brought back alive. Alive didn’t mean whole. He carried on walking, trying to focus again on something else… only to pause a couple of metres away. 

Help her. 

The Mandalorian had turned back around to look at you, a frustrated grunt slipping from his lips. He moved through the ship, grabbing a med-kit and then practically stormed back to you, nearly ripping your tunic as he’d eased up the sleeve. 

It wasn’t too bad, a deep wound but it hadn’t been infected, yet. He cleaned it up, spraying it with the last of his bacta-spray and binding it with the last strip of bandages. He’d have to get some more soon, dig up some credits from somewhere. 

A cruel reminder of why he took this job. What you were. A bounty. That’s all. 

Muttering a string of curses, he finished binding your wound, wrenching his hands away and then made his way back upstairs. 

A bounty. A means to an end. The way to getting a break that his aching body craved for. 

He was hunter. You were prey. 

That was the mantra he had to keep repeating to himself when he’d brought you up to the cockpit. 

Had to keep repeating when you were teasing him, which simultaneously ground on his nerves but also made his skin tighten in a way it hadn’t for a while. 

It had been a long time, so long since he’d that kind of verbal play with someone. 

Hell, it had been a long time since he’d had any kind of play with anyone. He just didn’t have the time anymore, not with Grogu and not when everyone knew who he was. How could you trust someone enough to sleep with them when nearly everyone wanted to kill you?

His new mantra had echoed in his head when you began to verbally poke at him, hitting home about being lonely. He wouldn’t have been surprised if you knew you’d hit a nerve. But thankfully you stopped. 

But not before that broken thing had called between you again. Your words were spoken with too much ease and casualness, someone who knew all too well the loneliness and starvation for touch and companionship. 

Maker, he had to get rid of you soon. 

It had almost been a relief to find the small bounty on this planet. You’d been asleep, the kid asleep too so he’d gone. He didn’t need to wake either of you up, you knew why you were here - he’d told you so this morning. 

Besides, it was a small planet, easy prey to catch when everyone here feared the dark. He’d be back in a few hours. 

With the way he was so wired, he’d probably be back in two. 

That’s the way it was meant to happen. 

Track down the bounty, disarm, bring him back, freeze him in carbonite and Mando would have you back in the sky before you’d even woken up. 

And it had happened that way initially. He followed the sharp tailed bounty from the fighting pits to a cantina. Had to sit and listen as he boasted about some girl he’d bedded the night before and had screaming his name. He then, of course, launched into detail of said night, drawling about this girl in such a derogatory way that it took all his training and restraint not to just shoot this creep in the head there and then and be done with it. 

But, the Mandalorian had endured it. Sat there for an hour or so and then followed him out into an alleyway. Mando kept hidden as the bounty had spoken to a friend, talking about another girl he’d seen. Apparently, this one was even better than last night. He had it on good authority that this girl would be game for anything he wanted to do and more. 

And then Spikey had started describing again, in detail, what he would do. And Mando had been disgusted, angry that this creep was talking about a woman this way, such sick and derogatory things. Spikey’s friend asked if this ‘slut’ had a name. 

And then…

Your name. That’s what he said. 

And that’s when it went wrong. 

Your name had barely come out of this animal’s lips when a red haze clouded over the Mandalorian. Everything in him screamed violence and his body went on autopilot, attacking this vile waste of space matter so quickly he hadn’t had time to breathe. Mando didn’t even notice the friend bolt, running away. He was just so focused on taking down the bounty, ripping him apart for what he’d said about you. This one would be brought in cold. He would say that it put up a fight, tried to kill him so Mando acted in self-defence. 

His previous mantra of the last two days was forgotten, overtaken by a need to defend you, make sure this guy stayed the hell away from you. Bring him down, freeze him in carbonite and get off of this planet. He fell back into that haze, relying on his skills and instincts. 

Except… except that when the haze cleared, he wasn’t leaning over the body. 

No, he was the one being pinned against the wall by the bounty, with a strength he hadn’t realised Spikey possessed. What the fuck was he?

Escape training came to him now, but before he could disarm and kill, the bounty began to spew those vile thoughts about you again. About how Mando was keeping you tied to a bed, for his own pleasure. How he was going to take you, ask to keep you, use you-

And then for the first time in his life, Mando forgot his training. He forgot about blocking and defensive maneuverers. He forgot about the myriad of weapons on his body, the Whistling Birds, the flame-thrower. 

He reached out in a blind fury to throttle this creep. 

He left himself open to attack. 

That was the first time he royally fucked up tonight.  

Pain had suddenly become a living thing in his side and waist as he slid down the wall, and then his only thought wasn’t of survival, it was of the kid, and you. 

You were back in the ship, both of you safe at least. Maybe you would know how to fly, know how to get yourselves out of there and run, escape. That’s what he’d hoped. You were smart, you were a survivor. You’d take the initiative and get yourselves out. Besides, he might not have admitted it, but he trusted you with Grogu. 

And then like he’d fucking summoned you… there you were. Launching into Spikey Tail’s side and getting him away. He could only watch as you engaged him in the fight, taunted him with that same tone you’d used on him. Only this time, he could watch you. 

Beautiful. 

There was no other word for it, as much as he might not have wanted to admit it. You fought like it was a dance, that prowling wolf in you giving way to a viper, striking and falling back with all the grace of dancers he’d heard about performing in Coruscant. 

He was almost breathless as he watched this deadly game – though that might have been the blood loss and blow to his head. 

He thought he might be sick when the sound of your ribs shattering bounced off the slick metal walls, the muffled cry of agony it tore from you. 

But still, the taunts kept coming, and he couldn’t help himself when you complained that Spikey Tail talked too much. You had possibly two broken ribs and yet you were still a cocky little shit. The impressed, huffing laugh that came from his lips was loud enough to be heard by you. 

And that was his second fuck up of the night. 

What started as an unexpected burst of warmth in his chest as you turned and smiled at him, had immediately frozen his lungs as Spikey slammed you against the wall, strangling you. 

Fear shot through Mando, colder than his body had begun to feel. He tried to get up, tried to help you but he couldn’t move. His limbs wouldn’t respond to him. 

He couldn’t save you. 

He was going to watch you die defending him. 

Just like his parents. 

No, no, no. He couldn’t. He couldn’t do that, not again. He swore against his body, gathered every remaining ounce of strength that he had and reached for his blaster, just as those sick comments of degradation and ugly lust began to fall from your attacker’s lips. 

All he needed was to give you an opening, just one tiny opening and you would do the rest. 

Spikey’s lips were creeping toward yours, fear bursting in your eyes as you scrambled for the vibroblade sheathed against your thigh. 

An opening, that’s all he had to do. 

And he did. He managed to haul his body back from the edge of death long enough to shoot the guy in the back. 

You took your opening. 

He saw the flash of your vibroblade, heard the muffled, wet noise as it sunk into his bounty’s neck. 

The guy fell to the floor in a dead weight. You dropped too and he managed to see you gasp for air, assure himself you were mostly okay before that flame of energy guttered out so quickly, he saw stars. 

Darkness hovered around the edges of his vision as he felt his life slip through his fingers – literally, his other hand was pressed to his side in an effort to try and staunch it but he didn’t have the energy to. 

This was it then. 

The way he would go. 

Nothing noble, or heroic. 

Bleeding out in a back alley. The creatures in the dark would take him soon enough. 

At least you would be able to take the kid and run now. At least there was that. 

And then he felt hands knocking his way, significantly smaller hands push into the wound. He couldn’t even make a noise of pain; it didn’t hurt anymore. His vision cleared again and there you were once more, leaning over him with blood sprayed over your face, falling from a cut on your cheek. 

No. No. 

What were you doing?? 

You were supposed to escape. You were supposed to flee the mess he’d bought you into and take the kid and run. 

He tried to speak, to convey these thoughts to you but his lips had stopped responding. His tongue felt heavy in his mouth. But somehow, it was like you got what he meant. 

Your hands began to lift, and he had a weak wave of relief that was marred by the fresh soaking of blood that oozed out of his side. How much had he lost now?

Too much, by the cooling temperature of his body and the trembling that had begun. 

He had come close to death before, so many times before but this felt different. This felt like he was losing something. Something that was just within reach but he hadn’t had the chance to grasp at yet. And it was being wrenched away, taken from him and trickling over the stones beneath him in a deep, scarlet puddle. 

Maybe he’d begun to hallucinate too, because you were back, leaning over him, hands pressed into him again like they could stop the blood. He lifted his eyes and something in him curled up and panged when he saw that you were already gazing at him. 

Gazing right into his eyes. 

How you knew where they were, how you looked through the blackened visor without seeing, he didn’t know. But he could read the war raging inside of you, the battle off stay or go. 

Go.

Mando tried to talk again, but only managed a faint noise, a croak that sounded so pitiful, he might have cringed at himself had he not started to hear a ringing in his ears. Time was nearly up, ticking away his life and that glimmer of something. 

So, he instead just looked at you. You were clearly not made up yet, so he did something selfish. 

He put his life in your hands. 

If you left him here to die, he deserved it. It was justice. Justice for every ounce of pain he’d caused. The grief he’d doled out to mothers and fathers, sisters and brothers, children. 

Justice for the life of treachery he had all but dumped Grogu into. 

Justice for letting his parents die for him and not save them. 

But, if you let him live…

Then he would try harder. He would repent for his mistakes. 

He would make sure you were dropped somewhere safely. You couldn’t stay with him, he wrought death and destruction to those around him whether he meant it or not  

But he could take you somewhere safe, maybe to Greef and Cara. 

Then he would hunt down whoever came after you next, giving you the respite that he was going to keep for himself. 

They were the options. 

A deserved death, or a new determination to set right his mistakes. 

These thoughts swum through his hazy brain at a surprisingly rapid pace, only a few seconds worth of time as he still watched what you would do with this choice. He could see that you understood, understood the choice he had selfishly bestowed upon you. 

Only it was too late. 

Heavy darkness thundered over him in an unrelenting tidal wave and with a choked gasp, he was dragged under, so deep he might have imagined your arms winding around his battered body, hauling him to his feet as much as you could. 

His brain giving him one last reprieve, perhaps, or maybe a cruel taunt to what might have been before he was sucked under and everything went numb. 

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[amazingphanisnotonfire-imagines]

Cheryl//this is me trying

Request: Can I request a season 1 cheryl x reader. Cheryl always protects reader from people and r is shy but falls in love with the redhead and some who’s accidentally tells her while she’s having a bad day but cheryl is quick to reassure her then they cuddle after going to pops or something and it’s just fluffy.

hey! happy valentines day gays! and get you, two imagines in one day, it must be the day of love. i hope you all like this because it’s really fluffy and i enjoyed writing this a lot!

Overnight, Riverdale became a shell of its former self. Two months since Kevin Keller and Moose Mason stumbled upon the body of Jason Blossom, and nobody has been the same since. 

The town is riddled with secrets, they’re slowly destroying it like a disease. Nobody trusts anybody anymore, everyone is on high alert, and everyone is a suspect. 

Cheryl usually loves being the centre of attention, she has done ever she was a kid. It’s something that comes naturally with being a twin, you share everything and as much as she loves loved the shared birthdays and friends, she has always loved being the centre of attention.

Now however, she hates it. Her life is a true crime documentary at the minute, and all she wants is for the killer to be caught so the crew can pack up and leave and she no longer has to stare down at the blinding lights being cast over her and her family. 

The only thing that’s kept her sane over the past two months, is you. Despite everything happening, despite the murder and the secrets and the suspicion, you’ve stuck by her side. You were with her when they found the body, and you haven’t really left since. 

The two of you are unlikely friends, she’s Cheryl. Bright and bold and never one to back down from confrontation. But you’re Y/n, sweet and shy and always the first to shrink away from any sort of attention directed at you. 

She knows you hate the constant attention recently, it’s something you get used when you’re best friends with the victim’s sister, but not once have you complained. 

You’ve being questioned by police, journalists and strangers on the internet. You’ve had camera’s shoved in your face on your walk back from school and been asked countless questions about what you know about the Blossom’s. And you’ve also been offered ridiculous amounts of money in order to talk. But no matter what happens, you always just rush past them and join Cheryl, who’s always waiting for you with a sad smile and warm hand. 

Due to the constant hoard of vultures swarming Riverdale High, the two of you had to figure out somewhere else to meet after school so you could walk the long way home. It adds twenty minutes to your walk, but it’s not that well known around town, meaning people can’t bother you. 

Plus, the extra twenty minutes that you get to spend with Cheryl isn’t the worst thing. It’s the opposite in fact. It’s the thing you look forward to, even if you are looking over your shoulder every so often 

But today you’re not at your meeting spot. 

When Cheryl pushes her way through the stares of her fellow students with you and only you on her mind and makes her way through the school basement, back up the stairs and out of the fire exit, you’re not waiting for her with a smile that makes her feel warm and a cold slice of pizza you snuck out of the cafe earlier. 

The only thing waiting for her is a full bin and an empty field. 

“Y/n?” She calls out and looks around the corner. She’s met with three seniors, all of which are smoking with absolutely no care for being caught. 

“She’s not here.” One of them says, her blonde hair and large glasses cover half of her face and Cheryl forces a smile. 

“Hey, Blossom.” A boy says and Cheryl freezes. Who knows what they want, but whatever it is, it probably won’t be nice. It’ll probably be something along the lines of ‘hey, did you kill your brother’ and no matter how many times she’s asked that, it doesn’t get any easier. “Maybe try the bleachers.” He says, ending his sentence with a sympathetic smile and Cheryl nods slowly, not really sure what to say. 

“Thanks.” She forces and spins on her heel. 

“We’re sorry about your brother, Cheryl.” The blonde one says and she turns around again. Each of them look sad, with matching frowns and sorrow swimming in their eyes. 

Jason meant the world to Cheryl, but he also meant a hell of a lot to other people too. And that’s when it hits her. Of course you’re at the bleachers. 

For some bizarre reason, only known by your father. You and your family used to come along every other week to watch the Bulldogs play. For a while you thought it was because your dad was trying to get you and your brother into football and this was a lot cheaper than the actual game, but the older you got the more you figured it was because he was just trying to relive his youth. For 90 minutes he could pretend that he was quarterback again and for those 90 minutes your dad would be the happiest he’d been all week. 

Then one week, a redhead sat beside you. In clothes that were far too expensive to be worn to a high school football game. Her parents looked like they wanted to be there as much as she did, but then a boy with matching red hair ran out on to the pitch and you’d never seen a smile quite like it. 

After that, you made sure to sit beside her at every game. And then one day she sat opposite you at lunch. The first few times she was alone, but then soon she began to appear with a group of other girls, but you were the only one she’d talk to. 

Eventually lunch times and football games turned into group projects and sleepovers. You spend hours braiding her hair and listening to her tell you stories of other worlds and the creatures that live in them. You’d sneak down the dark and creepy halls of Thornhill in hopes of finding a midnight snack, and instead be met by Jason and your older brother in clown masks. 

Eventually, you found a different way to get to the kitchen, one that Jason didn’t know about. And when he’d come looking for you, both of you would jump out  and chase him around the house, much to the dismay of Penelope and Clifford. 

Those bleachers are what started a whole friendship, not only between you and her, but also you and Jason. When you’re brother eventually made the team, thanks to a good word put in my Jason, despite him being a year younger. Him and Jason became as inseparable as you and Cheryl and so it wasn’t an uncommon occurrence to see the four of you hanging out. It also meant that if Cheryl was busy, you and Jason would hang out until she finished whatever she was doing. 

Grief is a hell of a lonely thing, and sometimes Cheryl forgets that other people miss Jason too. With everything going on, she didn’t even think about how you were doing. With all the questions, accusations and crying that constantly fills Cheryl’s house. She never even asked how you were. 

And now her legs can’t carry her quick enough to were she hopes your sat. Because she’s already lost her brother, she can’t lose you too. She wobbles as her heels dig into the dirt, kicking up dust and mud as she runs across the field. Her hair swings behind her, and she can feel the red scrunchie loosen the quicker she runs. 

The bleachers have all sorts carved into them. Initials in hearts, some of them still there, some of them crossed out so aggressively that it’s a miracle they didn’t chop it in half. There’s inside jokes and ridiculous rumours. Codes and dates and everything in between. 

But something new has been added in the past few days. 

cheryl murdered jason

and y/n helped

The writing is small and barely legible, but it’s there and the more you run your fingers over it the more it carves itself into your heart. 

“Y/n?” Cheryl pants breathlessly and you quickly pull yourself away from it. Instead you stand up properly and pull the sleeves of your sweater down over your hands. The y/f/c scrunchie remains still in your hair and Cheryl has to stare at it for a few seconds to calm herself down. “You weren’t at our spot.” She says quietly and you close your eyes. 

You let her down. You let her down. You always let her down.  

“Sorry Cheryl.” You sigh and sit down in the dirt. Cheryl looks around before sitting beside you. “I just wanted some space.” You add and force yourself to look at her. 

The sun sits behind her, but even that doesn’t seem as bright as it used to be. Nothing is what it used to be. For the past two months, you’ve been told that thats a good thing. But what’s good about someone you loved being dead. What’s good about watching someone else you love go through life but not really live. 

Cheryl just exists. 

But she exists for you. 

Because as lost as she would be without you, she knows you would be just as lost without her. 

It’s an unspoken rule now, you always text each other when you wake up and before you go to sleep. It’s something you used to do anyway, but now you make a point not to forget. Because forgetting means that the worst could have happened, and that’s something neither of you can bare to deal with. 

“I get it.” She nods. “I was just worried that’s all.” She adds, trying to sound as casual as she can. But on the inside she’s screaming. Because she thought you had died, she thought whoever had killed Jason had gotten to you too, and the whole reason you’re both dead is because she wronged the wrong person. 

There’s a lot of people that don’t like Cheryl, being unliked comes naturally to her. But she doesn’t know how she’ll cope if she’s so unlikeable someone she loves died. 

She has no idea why your friends with her to be honest. She saw you staring at her at a football game once. But it wasn’t a stare she was used to. It wasn’t cold like her mothers or jealous like her friends. No, this was nice. You were staring at her like you wanted to know about her, like when you looked at her, you saw a friend not someone to be feared. 

And so Cheryl clung onto the tiny hint of friendship, the crack of a door into something that could happen, and she shoved herself through it. It worked, and now you’re the only person she’s nice to. She’s mean to everyone else, she calls them names and teases them, especially when they’re rude to you...but you stay. And she has no idea why, but she’s not going to wish it away. 

“Shit, sorry Cheryl.” You drop your head into your hands and Cheryl looks at you confused. She looks around, not really sure of what to do. “I didn’t think, God knows what you thought had happened.” You ramble and she realizes you’re crying. Her eyes widen and you look at her, your eyes red and puffed and your lips pulls into frown. 

“It’s okay.” She replies and wraps her arms around you. You bury your head into her neck, the smell of maple and cherries invade your senses and you let out a shaky breath. 

It smells like home and happier times, and you want to crawl into those happy memories and never come back out. “I was just being ridiculous.” She tries to play it off, to make it seem like she couldn’t feel her heartbeat in her throat and the ringing in her ears. Pretend like it didn’t feel like someone had pulled her heart out and stamped on it. 

“No, no you weren’t. I’m really sorry.” You sob and wrap your arms around her. She falls into your neck, surprised but not upset with how tight you’re holding her. She never wants you to let go. But of course she has to, and so however reluctant, she untangles herself from you and lets out a deep sigh. 

“I’m sorry.” You sniffle. She hands you a tissue and you wipe your eyes with it before scrunching it up in your hand. “I’ve just had a rubbish day. Somebody shoved this in my locker.” You frown and pull a balled up piece of paper out of your pocket. 

Cheryl’s eyebrows knit in confusion as she takes it from you, her fingers graze yours and you freeze for a few seconds. 

who do you think did it? 

cheryl __

y/n __

Jamie __

“Why is your brother on here?” Cheryl asks, her voice rising with each word and you rest your hand on top of hers to calm her down. 

“I dunno.” You shrug. “Your parents are on there too.” You add and point further down the page. 

“What a bunch of dicks.” She grumbles and crumples it up. “Do you know who it was?” You shrug and she sighs. 

“I’ve just gotten tired of the staring and the whispers. So I thought I’d just have five minutes peace before going home and having to listen to Jamie cry in his room but pretend he’s okay. Or for my parents to walk on eggshells around both of us. Neither of them know what to say, and because of that they keep saying the wrong thing.” You ramble and she listens intently, trying her best to find a resolution to all of your problems. 

Unfortunately, she doesn’t know the answer to everything, no matter what her mom says. 

“I just thought five minutes by myself can’t be terrible. But then I came down here and someone carve-well it doesn’t matter what they wrote. What matters is that I made you worry at the worst possible time in your life. I hurt you, and I’m really sorry. Believe me, hurting you is the last thing I want to do you. I feel sick even just thinking about it. I never, ever want to hurt you. I love you too much. I love you more that I’ve ever loved anything or anyone ever. I just love yo-” Your eyes widen when you realize what you’ve just admitted to. 

You don’t want to look at her, but she hasn’t said anything in a while and that’s strange for her. So you force yourself to look at her, expecting the worst. Expecting disgust, disappointment, betrayal. But it’s none of those. 

Instead she’s smiling. And she looks actually happy. Something you haven’t seen in so long, something you’re glad to see, despite the circumstances. 

Oh yeah, you’ve just told her you’re in love with her. What do you say after that? 

“I-er-”

“Y/n?” She cuts you off before you get the chance to ruin the moment. She’s known you for long enough to know that when you get nervous, you ramble and when you ramble you say weird things. 

You’re grateful for her cutting you off, usually if she talks over you, it annoys the hell out of you. But this time it’s welcomed and she stifles a small laugh and the sigh of relief you let out. 

But the next thing she says is something that you weren’t expecting, but you’re sure as hell grateful for. 

“Would you like to go on a date?” 

---

The red lights from outside, illuminate Cheryl’s pale face in the night, painting her in a reddish hue and you find yourself staring at her for far longer than would be considered normal. 

Lucky for you, she hasn’t noticed. She doesn’t seem to be paying attention to anything, not really anyway. Instead she stares down at her food, pushing a few fries around the plate and anxiety rises in your chest. 

She’s already regretting doing this. She’s made a mistake and now she doesn’t know how to let you down gently. 

She seems to sense you nerves because she’s looking at you quickly, a sad smile twitching at her lips.

“Sorry, I just. Jason always used to tease me about the two of us. It’s the only thing we’d take about sometimes. He’d constantly ask me if I’d asked you out yet. And every time I would say ‘no, we’re just friends’ but, well neither of us really believed that.” She says, a small laugh escapes her lips near the end, but she quickly shuts it off. It’s too soon for her to be laughing, too soon for her to be happy. 

“Yeah.” You nod and finish your drink. “He used to tease me too. ‘if you don’t tell her, I’ll do it myself’.” You mimic his voice and a ghost of a smile twitches at her lips as she forces herself to look at you. “I am really glad you did ask me though.” Your voice shakes a little with nerves and Cheryl stares at you confused. “I do really like you Cheryl.” 

“I really like you too.” She smiles softly and you stare at her lips. Sometimes you think the red lipstick has permanently stained her lips cherry red. Even when you guys are a sleepover, she still has bright red lips and the other part of you wonders if that’s just what they look like. 

“Hey.” You start and a sly smile twitches at your lips as you remember an old memory. She leans forward, excited to know what you’re smiling about. 

It could literally be anything, from a musty old book she let you borrow from the Thornhill archive, to a new tv show you started to watch. But whatever it is, she’s excited to hear you talk about it. 

“Can you remember last year. It was Jamie’s 16th birthday and you and Jason were invited over. Jason was there because him and Jamie were planning on sneaking out later that night, and you tagged along so you could keep me company.” You start and she smiles at the memory. 

The four of you sat in the living room, while your mom brought cake and your dad sang ‘happy birthday’. Cheryl remembers how happy she was, and she remembers talking to Jason afterwards, the two of them whispering and wondering if that was what a normal family was supposed to look like. 

You, Cheryl and Jason had each pitched in for the record player he wanted. And even though you all knew that just Cheryl alone could have been able to buy him it if she really wanted, you knew they split it for you. 

Jamie was ecstatic when he opened the box, and then all of the records you’d bought to go with it. He’d played it every single day since getting it, but now you haven’t heard it in months.

“Yeah.” She nods, a sad smiling taking over he face. “Can you remember when Jason pushed his face into the cake.” She adds making you snort a laugh. 

The bell above Pop’s rings and Betty and Archie walk in. They send you a sympathetic smile before sitting at their own booth, and you and Cheryl share a look. 

“Would you like another one?” You point at her milkshake and she nods, smiling shyly. 

---

The walk home is over far too soon, and it’s only when you’re standing on your porch do you realize you took the normal way home by accident. Either the media has gone to sleep, or people are starting to forget about Jason and Riverdale. 

That thought makes you frown and Cheryl watches your expression falter before you look back at her again. 

“Thank you for walking me home.” You smile shyly and a nervous laugh escapes her lips. 

“It’s no problem.” She shrugs and the two of you stare at each other for a few seconds longer than normal. She’s about to leave when you grab her hand and spin her around to face you. 

She’s surprised for a second, until suddenly she feels a pair of lips on hers, and then the only thing she can feel is them. Everything else disappears, and though the kiss is short and a little awkward, it’s still perfect. 

“Would you like to come in?” You ask and motion your head to large wooden door. The pain is chipped around the metal numbers, something your mom has nagged your dad about for the past 6 months. “We still have the rest of y/f/s to watch.” 

“I’d love to.” She nods and the two of you grin at each other. “But seriously, how many times have you seen that now?” 

“It doesn’t matter how many times I’ve seen it.” You unlock the front door, giving it a quick kick before you stumble through it. “What matters is that this is the first time you’re seeing it.” You add and she rolls her eyes but follows you up the stairs anyway. 

The sun sets over another day in Riverdale and darkness floods the town. The streets are cold and scary, but wrapped in your duvet and Cheryl’s arms, you’ve never felt warmer. 

[boldlyvoid]

Intro to Criminal Minds: Why They Did It

Criminal Minds x Mindhunter AU

Spencer Reid x Peggy Carr (OC) Part 2: The Case

Summary: Spencer is teaching a 7-week seminar on the most interesting criminal cases, explaining their actions to understand why they took place. Only, not everyone in the audience is a student.

warnings: strangers to lovers, mutual pining, slow burn! flirting, fluff, eventual smut, idiots in love, OC is Wendy Carr and Jason Gideon's biological daughter. mentions of rape and murder (typical canon violence)

word count: 2.2K

ao3

P1

He’s not expecting her to roll out a full map after the waitress clears the food from their table. They’ve been in the booth for barely 20 minutes. Having mindless conversations about their day and small get to know each other questions while they ate.

“So, I brought all this to my dad,” she explained, dropping 33 files on the table as well as 2 spiral notebooks and a handful of pens. “He thinks I have a case, but he’s refusing to look at the evidence because he’s still triggered by it, which I get, but he said you’d be the best at helping me because I really just need a geo-profile consult.”

“How is he doing?”

She’s been waiting for him to ask but she still didn’t know how to answer, no matter how much time she had to prep, “uh, he’s good. He talks about you every time I see him, how often do you talk?”

“We haven’t talked since he almost died, 6 years ago now… yes, it was in 2015,” Spencer says it like it’s nothing serious.

“Oh,” she’s confused about it all. Her father talks about him more than anyone else, always remembering a case or a conversation that he just had to tell her about.

Spencer was his buddy in her eyes. “Here I was thinking he liked you more than me like you’re his favourite kid.”

“I’m not his kid,” his eyes widen at the insinuation that they’re somehow siblings in any sense.

It makes her laugh, she knows he’s interested in her a small amount. She was hoping he would, she’s heard so many wonderful things about him and she remembers just how cute he was back in 2005. Now he’s a man and a mighty fine one at that…

“I take it you’re an only child?” He changes the subject, “you can’t handle the idea of your father having relationships with people your age when you hardly know him?”

“How about you tell me who you think I am and I’ll tell you where you went wrong?” She challenges him rather than answering, she knows he’s good but she wants to see it in action.

Spencer raised his brow, “if I get it right, you’re paying for lunch.”

“Deal.”

He opens her notebook and takes a look at her notes, flipping through the pages reading the words just as fast as her father said he could. It was incomprehensible, but he didn’t read far… he keeps going back to her drawings, studying the pressure and how her mind worked.

“Your mom travelled a lot when you were a kid, and you always went with her. I’m thinking you have a few degrees, at least 3…” he pauses to watch her microexpressions, trailing her skin with his eyes as he looks for anything out of the ordinary. “There’s a doctorate in there but you hate being called Dr. Carr because that’s your mother’s name and it reminds you too much of people asking about her instead of how you’re doing.”

It cuts deep, but he hits the nail on the head and she just blinks. The simplest microexpression that shows him he got it right, his smile is awkward and he’s sorry for it.

“You were homeschooled so you don’t trust people very easily. You have issues with your father that you can’t place because you still don’t think you know him well enough to really have an opinion, and you’re jealous of me because you wish you knew how he brags about you when you’re not around, but he doesn’t talk about you because you told him not to.”

“I specifically told him I wanted to be left out of his life to stay safe, so it’s really my fault that he can’t brag about me. But I still wish someone would,” she admits with a soft smile. “And I think it’s not really jealousy. I’m not jealous of how he brags about his time with you. If anything, I really admire you now.”

He blushes a little, “alright, your turn.”

“You’ve never had a girlfriend before have you?” She calls him out right away. “You can’t take a compliment seriously because no one has loved you deep enough yet for you to believe them. I already know about your parents, I know that you’re scared of forgetting and that’s why you won't stop learning. I think you probably have a bucket list, you’re desperate for something exciting to happen and that’s why you like me already.”

He blinks right back, “touché.”

“I’ll still buy your lunch,” she smiled, and he smiled right back. “And I do have 3 degrees.”

“I do too.”

“I know,” she reminded him. “You’ve been working on that 4th one for the last 16 years.”

“I haven’t had the time.”

She shakes her head as she laughs, teasing him as if she’s better than him because she knows he finds her interesting already, “I had my Ph.D. by 17, as well 2 masters by the time I was 21.”

“3 Ph.D.’s by 22,” he bragged right back.

It had suddenly become a staring contest, “when exactly did your dad walk out on you?”

“I was 10.” Spencer answers. “When was the last time your mom said she was proud of you?”

“Oh, we're going that far, I see,” she laughed, hurt just a little that he dug that deep, “what happened to yours recently?”

“Alzheimer’s.”

“I’m really sorry, I knew about the schizophrenia already because of the fisher king case, that one is the one that still has my dad all fucked up,” she can’t help but rant as she apologizes, placing her hands on his in the centre of the table and he interlocks their fingers like they’ve known each other for years.

“Boston?” He asks her, changing the topic back to getting to know each other without letting go of her hands.

She nods, “Vegas?”

“You knew that already,” he catches her.

“Maybe so,” she blushes at the embarrassment of him picking up on her crush.

“How’d he describe me at chess?” There’s a cockiness behind it that she admires, smiling in response she just shakes her head.

“I don’t play chess, but he says that other than Agent Prentiss, you’re the only person who has come close to beating him.”

“Prentiss?” He looks almost offended at the fact he didn’t know that story.

“You were asleep on the jet, it was right after the trip to Azkaban,” she reminds him.

“Azkaban?” He repeats. “You mean Guantanamo?”

She’s only slightly embarrassed by the slip-up, blushing a deep red as she presses her lips together and squeezes his hand. “My mom calls it Azkaban, she hates it. If it wasn’t for the BAU, she would have never joined the bureau or the government in any way, she’s against the criminal justice system too, so…”

“She’s a woman of science and empathy, I’ve never met her, but I’ve read all her work.”

“So have I,” she’s full of butterflies for some reason as she thinks about him knowing everything that she does, she’s suddenly excited at the prospect of future conversations with him like this isn’t a one-time thing.

He’s still holding her hands over the map, both of them leaning in slightly as they kept talking, it felt overly intimate for a discussion of a case— and they haven’t even started yet.

She takes her hands out of his grip and flattens them over the map, “so I found a pattern, I was asked to look into the rape and murder of a friends sister, and now I’ve found 32 matching cases all over America going in alphabetical order by state, 2 a year since 2005.”

“Are you serious?”

She nods softly, “I’m a private investigator. I hated the academy and simply being in the BAU almost killed both of my parents so I’m not really fond of it, but I need help.”

“How did VICAP not pick this up?” Spencer’s still caught up on the fact this has been happening during his entire career and he had no way of helping. It was very clear by the look on his face.

“Because they’re college-age women getting raped in their dorms, 1 in each state, and men don’t care enough to dig a little deeper when it’s just a little girl who was probably asking for it anyway, right?”

He looks furious, but with her… not at her.

Not like most men, that’s actually exactly what any other guy would have said to her. ‘Not most men,’ they only said that if they were offended; when they knew that they were the exact type of man she was referring to.

He started opening case files then, flipping through everything as she watched carefully, “he always does it the exact same way. It’s every March and November between the 6th and 12th, he’s gotten to the O’s, which means the next hit should be in Oklahoma in exactly 2 months' time.”

“Has there been evidence?” Spencer asks, avoiding eye contact as he both listens and absorbs.

“1 footprint and some random fingerprints at the first few, other than that it’s like he was never there,” she sighs. “This is where I need your help; I’m unsure if he’s attacking randomly or if it’s planned ahead of time, so I brought the map to see if you can make any connection.”

“Alright,” he closes the folder and hands them to her so he can get a better look at everything. “I’m going to need the exact address of each one.”

“I have 32 mini maps,” she says, opening her book bag and handing him yet another folder.

“I’ve noticed they’re in every capital, and it’s always on the east side of the city,” she adds as he spreads them out on the table.

He takes his phone out of his pocket and turns on the flash, turning it face down and holding the sheets of paper over it, “If you look at them over each other, there might be a pattern. We should call my friend Penelope, she’ll be able to digitally do this and find something.”

“Okay,” Peggy nods along, “I really need to know within the week because I’m moving to Oklahoma.”

“What?” He looks overly worried.

“He’s interested in college-age brunettes,” she points at herself. “I’m going to rent an apartment with a sliding door in the kill zone, and I’m going to wait it out. I’ll make sure everyone knows I live alone, I won't make friends, I’ll keep the windows open when I go to the store, I’ll make myself a victim.”

“No, we can get the bureau to send in a team, you don’t need to be in harm's way,” he protests, “I won’t help if I know you’re throwing yourself in the middle of all this. I refuse.”

There’s an underlying panic that she doesn’t quite understand. He’s almost shaking as he thinks about her playing the victim, they stare back and forth at each other softly, eyes flickering over the other’s expression as he also reads her.

“Fine,” she agrees, finally. “But if you’re getting the team involved, I want to be able to have some say in the investigation. I don’t want to be kicked out for just being a PI.”

“On one condition,” Spencer smirks. “You have to teach the BTK seminar with me.”

“Deal,” she smiled. “But I have some conditions too.”

“Anything?”

He was going to regret that.

“We can’t sleep together until we catch the guy— don’t look at me like that!” she catches the way his jaw drops and his eyes glisten.

He’s in complete shock, trying to say words and failing miserably as she stares at him knowingly. “I only said that because I need rules for myself too. We can’t care more about each other than the victims. Solve the case with me and then I’ll have a crush on you, okay?”

“Okay,” he finally finds the words to agree. “Was it that obvious?”

“We held hands for 5 minutes, I’ve thought you were cute since you were 23 and that seminar was a; 'my horse is bigger than your horse' flirting match,” she calls it all out, “I’m just as into you as you are into me already, if not more so because I know way too much about you thanks to my dad and uncle Rossi.”

“Dave knew about you too?” He’s more upset than she expected.

She nods, “yeah, so that I’d be taken care of if anything happened to my dad.”

He is a little upset and she can’t figure out why from what she knows already, “why?”

“You’re so interesting, you and I could have been friends for the last 15 years and things could have been so interesting but you were a secret,” he whispers.

“I was right wasn’t I?”

He nods again, “Gideon doesn’t know about Maeve, but I had a girlfriend who died in front of me before I could tell her I loved her and it broke me.”

Everything makes sense now. The stares, the stuttering, the defensiveness at the idea of her being in harm's way after only knowing her for a few hours. He was desperately looking for someone like himself to prove that he wasn’t going to be alone forever, and he wanted that to be found in her.

“Solve the case with me, then you can learn what it’s like to love someone who loves you back.”

taglist:

@g0lden-cth @doctorspenceryeet @samuel-de-champagne-problems @reiding-recs @ssavanessa22 @spookyspence @shemarmooresfedora @spencers-dria@reidsfish @manuosorioh @mochionly @jswessie187 @k-k0129 @calm-and-doctor @blanchardsbk

[red-jaebyrd]

My Brother’s Keeper

Ric hadn’t set out to make a new friend that day. In fact he hadn’t even expected to see the guy again once he had helped Ric push his busted cab to the side of the road.

Hardly anyone ever went out of their way to help others in Bludhaven. It surprised Ric when this guy, Jason just appeared as if out of nowhere to yell at honking drivers and help Ric get his cab out of the way of traffic. Ric had invited him to The Prodigal for a beer that night as a thank you. He wasn’t sure if Jason would even show up that night, but to his surprise he did.

“So what do you do when you're not swooping in to help complete strangers push their broken down cars out of rush hour traffic?” Ric asked.

Jason laughed. “Little bit of this, little bit of that, mostly free-lance stuff.”

It was a vague answer, but Ric let it slide. Everyone had their secrets, he couldn’t fault a guy he just met to have a few.

“Must be nice. Is it real lucrative?”

“The pay isn’t bad,” Jason shrugged. “I get to set my own hours and carry a gun.”

“Can’t argue with those perks,” Ric chuckled, taking a drink of his beer. “So did you grow up around here?”

“Nah, I grew up in Gotham, what about you?”

Ric tensed at hearing Gotham and gripped the handle of his beer mug tighter. He really hoped Jason wasn’t another one of Wayne’s associates trying to jog his memory and lure him back ‘home’. Maybe he should just play along.

“Same, seems everyone one I’ve run into lately is from Gotham.” Ric challenged.

“Well, to be fair Gotham is a pretty big place,” Jason replied causally. “So what brought you to Bludhaven?”

Ric shrugged allowing the tension to leave his shoulders. “Let’s just say I needed somewhere new to spread my wings.”

“And you chose Bludhaven?” Jason snorted. “Did you lose a bet?”

“Shut up.” Ric laughed, elbowing Jason in the arm. “Don’t knock it. You’re here too. What brought you to the ‘haven’?”

Jason ran a hand through his hair. His brow furrowed in thought before he answered. At first Ric thought that maybe he was prying too much into this guy’s life, or asking too many personal questions.  He couldn’t help it. He liked talking and Jason was the first person besides Bea that was actually interested in talking to him.

“Gotham wasn’t safe for us anymore, so my brothers and I bailed and came here.”

“Looks like you left just in time. I heard a lot of crazy shit with the Bat was happening in Gotham. Wait, did you say ‘brothers’?” Ric’s smiled wistfully.

Jason nodded. “I have four. One was staying with our sister the last time I checked in with him and the other two came here with me.”

Ric had always wondered what it would be like to be part of a big family.  He wondered if he had ever asked his parents for a brother or a sister. If they hadn’t died, would they have had more children? Would he have been a good big brother to them? Wayne did have a younger son, so Ric was technically a big brother, but he couldn’t remember his life with him. When it came to the Waynes, Ric was just a son and brother on paper.

“Where’s the other one? You said four brothers, but only mentioned three of them.”

He watched as Jason scratched along a groove in the wood of the bar, like he was trying to think of the right words to say. Ric’s stomach flipped as he started to speculate that maybe something serious did happen to Jason’s family. Or maybe Ric was just making Jason feel uncomfortable with all his questions. Ric did that sometimes when he got too excited talking to new people. Jason took a swig of his beer before answering Ric’s question.

“Our older brother...” Jason answered, running his fingers along the condensation of his mug. “…he went missing a few months ago. It’s been hard on the family, especially our father and my youngest brother.”

“I’m sorry. I can imagine it’s been difficult for everyone, especially you. It can’t be easy being the one that they depend on.”

Jason shook his head. “No, truthfully it sucks sometimes, but it has its moments. He was– I had a good role model and they’re good kids. They just miss him. I miss him too.”

“Well you got them somewhere safe,” Ric clapped a hand on Jason’s shoulder. “Well…relatively safe. Any leads on his whereabouts?”

“Nothing but dead ends. Deep down I don’t really think he wants to found,” Jason shrugged. “But I’ll keep looking for him. So what about you, any siblings?”

Ric knew a dismissal when he heard it. He didn’t mind the change in subject. He couldn’t blame Jason for not elaborating. It had to be stressful for anyone looking for a missing family member. He assumed this question was bound to make its way onto him.

“No, I’m an only child. My parents died when I was eight.”

“Shit, sorry man. We can talk about something else.”

“It’s fine. You told me about your brother. I can talk about this. I did get taken into a good home, so I shouldn’t really complain,” Ric shrugged.

“But…”

Ric shook his head. “It’s just frustrating to have these people who are supposed to be my ‘family’ constantly telling me how I should be living my life.”

“Oh, I know how that is, trust me. It’s the worst.”

“Right? Why can’t I live my life how I want to? I’m an adult. They’re not even interested in getting to know me,” Ric ranted. “They just want their precious ‘Dick Grayson’ back. It’s my life now not his, let me live it how I want to.”

Shit. He went too far. He could see the look of surprise on Jason’s face. The lull of silence between them stretched and Ric couldn’t form a cohesive thought. Ric’s brain was scrambling for something else to say, anything to say, to fix the mess he just made but nothing was coming. Instead his mind started replaying all recent moments of disappointed people coming and going in his life claiming that they loved him, but not wanting to take the time get to know him.

Ric really hated his brain sometimes and how there was no filter between what he was thinking and what came out of his mouth. He needed to explain himself to Jason fast. Ric knew Jason had to have noticed the gnarly scar on the side of his head. Maybe the scar would give him a free pass at his unfiltered choice of words.

“Sorry, sorry, that uh kinda came out of nowhere. I…uh…had a bit of an accident…” Ric explained, pointing at his scar. “…I got shot a few months ago and well let’s just say my “family” or whatever they want to call themselves, didn’t take to my recovery well.”

“I’m sorry. Sometimes injuries that intense can either bring a family closer together or tear them apart.”

Ric shrugged his shoulders. It had been rough having to relearn how to do everyday tasks like eating, writing his name, and walking. His “family” and friends had been there at every therapy session encouraging him with their words and overall presence. But the worst of it had been their reactions to the news that his memories of them were gone.

“I couldn’t remember them,” Ric admitted, staring at his near empty beer mug.  “They were literal strangers to me the moment I opened my eyes from the coma, and it was something that they wouldn’t accept. In the end their concern for me and my recovery just felt conditional, so I left and came here.”

“Damn. Do they at least check up on you?” Jason asked.

“The old man used to, but I haven’t seen him in a while. A red-headed chick did too, but I told her not to bother anymore. Not if she’s going to keep looking at me searching for ‘him’ to come back. Apparently the other guy they really want was a real ‘Golden boy’, that’s not me.”

Jason snorted.

“What did I say?” Ric quirked a smile.

“Nothing,” Jason smirked, and took a drink of his beer.

“I’m doing just fine on my own. I don’t need them.”

“No you don’t. I know they’re family, but fuck them.” Jason clinked his beer mug against Ric’s.

Oh Ric really liked this guy.

 8888

The next few weeks Ric and Jason met up at The Prodigal for beers. Some nights all they did was talk and drink. Other nights they drank and played pool. Jason became one of Ric’s favorite drinking buddies.

Ric couldn’t legitimately remember ever having a feeling of kinship with anyone like Jason before in his life. It was nice and a bit scary at the same time letting someone new in his life. Still, instead of running away from this newfound friendship, Ric embraced it.

Friendship was a concept Ric wasn’t sure he’d ever get used to again. He didn’t have many friends in Bludhaven, well friends that he remembered. Dick’s old friends wanted nothing to do with him. They kept waiting and pushing for Dick to “come back”. When he finally snapped at them that Dick was gone and never coming back, they stopped visiting him. He did have Bea. She was the only one who had welcomed him with open arms and genuinely wanted to get to know him.

Jason had been the only other person he had run into that also didn’t have some hidden agenda to “bring Dick back”. With Jason there wasn’t any pressure or demand to be anyone other than himself. He could be Ric with no expectations thrust upon him. Jason empathized with Ric’s struggle to find his identity apart from the Waynes.

This was what made hanging out with Jason so easy. The anxiety of having to censor himself, afraid he might say or do something that was so inherently not Dick didn’t exist when he was around Jason. It was such a relief and a weight off Ric’s shoulders to just exist in a space with a friend and be himself.

Once Jason had opened up to Ric, he learned that there was a whole slew of shit that had happened to his friend in just a short amount of time. Aside from his brother going missing, Jason had a serious falling out with his dad that had caused a significant rift between them causing him to take his brothers and leave. However, the most devastating news had to be hearing that Jason’s best friend had been killed while staying at an inpatient rehabilitation facility.

“I wish I had some advice to give you, but something tells me you weren’t looking for any,” Ric said.

“No, not really, just a sympathetic ear, I guess.”

“I’m sorry about your best friend. That really sucks what happened to him.”

“Thanks, man. At least we got to work one last job together before he died. Anyway, that’s enough of my bullshit. What’s up with you? You look like my little brother after seven Red Bulls and 3 hours of sleep.”

Ric sighed. “It’s kind of embarrassing, but I’ve been having these dreams lately of faceless people in weird costumes. In the dream I feel like I know them. I’m ready to say their name but I can’t talk. I wake up and by the time I try to recall the images I can’t remember them.”

“Do you think your memories are trying to come back?” Jason asked.

“I don’t know, maybe?” Ric shrugged.

“But…you don’t want them to come back, do you?”

It felt silly getting so worked up over something like lost memories resurfacing. Ric should be happy that parts of his lost past was trying to get through to him. He should be relieved that the 15 years of lost memories were finally starting to return, but he wasn’t happy or relieved. He was worried.

“What happens to me when I start remembering everything? Will I still be Ric when Dick’s memories come flooding back filling in the gaps? What if I don’t like the things I start to remember? What then?”

Jason turned in his stool to face Ric. “No matter what, you’ll still be Ric. You’ll still be the guy with the busted cab I had to push out of traffic. You’ll still be the guy that kicks my ass playing pool. You’ll still be the guy who insists on buying the first round and listening to all my bullshit. You’ll still be you, just with new memories.

“No matter what happens you are not obligated to go back to your old life or live your life by your old memories. You don’t owe those assholes in Gotham anything.”

Ric nodded allowing Jason’s words to sink in.

“We’ll take it one day at a time,” Jason clapped a hand on Ric’s shoulder. “Next round is on me.”

The anxiety slowly started to ebb away as Ric watched his friend leave their high top table and make his way to the bar to get another round of beers.

Ric couldn’t stop the new memories from coming. They were coming whether he wanted them to or not. And when they did come he was glad to have found such a great friend in Jason. The man was right, no matter what happened, he was not obligated to go back to his old life or live his life by his old memories.

Part 2: Somebody That I Used to Know

[hadtochangemyurlquick]

here’s 5.7k of the unsinkable 8 during the zombie apocalypse. good for fans of leatin and goodfoe. it’s super unedited and i’m mainly just posting it for fun cause i finished it today. some references to world war z the book for fun, and i used the zombies from that too.

A flash of blonde and Dot’s gun went up, pointed directly at the head of whatever made their way toward her. She had two bullets left, six cigarettes, and the last mini of hard liquor she raided from the motel back in Aquilla.

She’d have to get it in one shot, which would be hard sitting down, with her back to it, half delirious.

She grunted as she pulled herself around, her leg still out in the makeshift splint. The zed crept closer, not going at the usual hobbling pace. It definitely had caught her scent though, maybe it was down a few limbs already.

She cocked her gun, flicking off the safety, keeping her finger off the trigger. She’d wait until she could see the whites of its eyes. Get it in one shot.

The blonde head crept closer and she finally tucked her gun over the rocks, making eye contact with it for the first time.

“Shelby Goodkind?”

“Dot Campbell?”

Shelby stared at her, lowering her own gun and Dot let out a breath of relief.

“Dottie, oh my god, I thought you were one of ‘em.” She put away her gun, Dot doing the same and she ran over. “It’s so good to see ya, what’s wrong?” She looked at the leg, her face paling.

“Ankles broken,” Dottie muttered. “Was gonna treat myself to one last drink,” she gestured at the bottle.

“Oh lord,” Shelby said. “Well that’s no good, I got a place not to far from here I’ve been camping out in. Some first aid stuff too.”

“I can’t give you anything back for it,” Dot said.

“We both know two people are more likely to make it,” Shelby said.

She looked sunburned and hollowed out, a little hungrier than the last time Dot saw her, headed with her family to that military base. She was alone, and desperate, everyone was. Because here was how it went in Texas. You could trust a stranger as far as you could throw ‘em, but you needed people to live. So if you had people, you lived. And Dot was people, or as close to people as Shelby was willing to get. She musta lost a lot to lower her standards so far.

“Alright,” Dot said. “We’re gonna have to go slow and you’re gonna have to carry a lot of shit.”

“No problem,” Shelby beamed.

Back at the camp, an old rusting trailer with some battery Shelby told her she was saving for a rainy day, Shelby re-splinted her, fed and watered her, and they pooled their resources. Twenty-six cigs now, which might get ‘em a few hours in a safe car north, if they wanted it. Or it might get ‘em some food, or a get out of jail free card, depending on the hunger of the people hunting ‘em.

It was late at night when Dot realized she hadn’t even asked yet.

“Family’s gone then?”

“Yeah,” Shelby said. “You?”

“My dad died before this shit show,” Dot said.

“Lucky,” Shelby said. She took a swig from the mini, and passed it over to Dot. “What’s your plan?”

“I heard there was a safer spot near San Antonio,” Dot said. “Running water and shit.”

Shelby shook her head, “Gone, three weeks ago. Heard it on the radio.”

Dot nodded, “What about you?”

“Radio said Hawaii’s better,” Shelby said. “There’s an operation ferrying people there on the west coast. It’s a thousand cigs per person. But there’s work by the dock if you’re willing to do it.”

“Work for you?” Dot asked.

Shelby’s jaw tightened, “I’ll do what I have to do. Lord forgive me.”

Dot sighed, “Sounds like we go west then.”

They hung around in the trailer for three days, pushing the limits of what was safe, and stumbled on to a new place in the area at daybreak on the fourth day. Dot’s ankle wasn’t broken, with the inflatable cast Shelby had in a week or so she’d be something regarding useful, and as long as she didn’t push herself she’d be more than fine.

Spending time with Shelby Goodkind was another story. For one thing, despite the zombie apocalypse, complete destruction of their lives and modern society, the death of her family and everyone in their town, Shelby was still good and kind. She’d clutch at the cross around her neck every time they’d pass a body, and would never touch one, even the ones that were recent and obviously not stripped clean. It made Dot kinda mad, she found five cigs just walking, and she wondered how many Shelby passed off being squeamish.

But Shelby also wasn’t squeamish, wasn’t afraid to take down a zed with a kitchen knife, and with that same hand wipe the gore off Dot all gentle. She called her Dottie, gave her the last blanket, and always volunteered for the first shift so Dot could watch the sunrise. Dot hadn’t been cared for in a long while, hadn’t been around people in even longer. She decided she might love it.

But Shelby was a magnet, always had been, she talked about god’s light long enough that she got Dot believing it all fell on her. It wasn’t a real surprise when she showed up with a stray.

“What the fuck,” Dot said. “Did you kidnap a child?”

“I did not kidnap a child,” Shelby said, picking the girl up with some difficulty and lifting her onto the backseat of the broken down minivan they were holed up in.

“I sent you out to get sunscreen,” Dot said. “How did you come back with a child?”

“She’s our age,” Shelby said. “I think. And listen, I found her barricaded in a utility closet with a bad fever, I knew we had some tablets but I didn’t wanna leave her.”

“Like bite fever?” Dot asked. “We don’t have enough bullets to—”

“No,” Shelby shook her head, “Look,” she gently unwrapped a bandage around the girl’s arm, revealing a bad slice. “It’s infected. Not a bite. We’re okay.”

Dot sighed and nodded. The girl’d probably try and rob ‘em blind but if they watched her hands and got away fast enough they should be fine. They’d be fine.

“You’re more trouble than you’re worth,” Dot muttered. Shelby smiled, all sweet and gentle and bright and Dot rolled her eyes.

The girl took the tablets, they washed and changed the bandages, after about fourteen hours she blinked awake, unfortunately while Dot was on watch.

“Who—who are you?”

“Dot Campbell,” she said.

The girl stared at her.

“My friend saved your ass,” Dot said. “Shelby.”

“Um,” the girl inched back, “Why? Where am I?”

“We’re on the twenty-two, not from from the ten-eighty,” Dot told her. “You got a nasty infection there, got any cigs?”

“No, I don’t smoke.”

Dot blinked at her. “Alright then.”

“My friends will be looking for me,” the girl said. “I should get back to them.” She didn’t have an accent, Dot realized, not even a thin one like her own.

“Shelby found you around Mr. K’s, we can draw you a map if you’d like,” Dot said. “Where you from?”

“Austin,” the girl lied, badly.

“Alright then,” Dot said again. “Well we’ll draw you a map in the mornin and you can leave a day break. It ain’t far.”

“Thank you,” the girl said. “For helping me.”

“Shelby’s idea,” Dot said. Neither of ‘em slept the whole time, the girl smart enough to keep an eye out, and Dot’s whole job to watch out. She woke Shelby up when she was supposed to and easily muddled into a slumber.

A nice thing, about the zombie apocalypse, was Dot had gotten a lot better at sleeping. She used to stay up for hours thinking ‘bout how she’d pay the bills, how much her dad’s meds cost, whether he was coughing more that night than he did most nights, but now she hit whatever soft looking rock she decided to call a pillow and conked out until Shelby woke her. Shelby, on the other hand, barely slept a wink, shooting up at the slightest sign of trouble, even when Dot was on watch. Too much time on her own, Dot’d guess.

Before Shelby Mateo wandered with Dot. He was quiet and sweet and she had took care of him as best she could. Shelby didn’t have nobody before Dot. Just her dead parents, and if Dot remembered eighth grade soccer well enough, a couple of dead siblings too.

So Dot pretty much conked out and missed the way the girl and Shelby giggled all night. But even she wasn’t blind to their bond when she woke, the way the girls smiled easily at one another, laughed with each other, kept up with each other.

“Dottie,” Shelby said. “Martha,” so that was the stranger’s name “said you told her we could draw her a map but Mr. K’s ain’t far, we might as well take her.”

Dot grunted, she didn’t wanna waste a day but it wasn’t like Mr. K’s would take all day and they might as well see if they could find any more cigs. She hadn’t met any non-smokers in a long while. Apocalypse sorta took the fun out of being straight-edge, if Dot had to guess.

Dot took the back, a metal bat out and ready, and Shelby and Martha took the front. Shelby had a makeshift spear made, good for longer range, but worse up close, and she gave Martha the other bat they had. To borrow, Dot had emphasized.

One of the other things that never got old about the apocalypse, was walking up a highway. Walking straight up that middle line, knowing no one would dare drive a car ‘round there. It felt like the world was yours and empty, like you were finding it, rebuilding it, building it. It was as close to a cowboy as she had felt since her daddy let her ride on his back. It was as close to free as she had ever felt.

They got back to Mr. K’s and Dot saw the approaching figures first, aiming her rifle right at ‘em, safety off and gun cocked, but her finger off the trigger. It was Shelby’s hunting rifle, actually, but she had handed it to Dot first chance she had, looking kinda pale. She had Dot’s old handgun now, useless with this kinda range.

“Live ones?” Shelby asked.

“Can’t tell,” Dot said. “Just kinda standing there.”

“They could be waiting for me,” Martha said. Dot glanced at her, hoping the girl wasn’t actually as naive as she seemed. She probably was.

They walked as close as they dared, before Martha was able to confirm that yes it was her friends.

She ran at ‘em and one of ‘em collided with her, slamming her into a hug. There were two more, just kinda watching Dot and Shelby.

“We should go,” Dot said. “We did what we said.”

“Dottie,” Shelby said.

Dot sighed and the two of ‘em trudged up to the happy pair, reuniting like they had been separated for years, decades, instead of a few hours. It was a miracle they were reunited at all, Mateo said he’d meet her back at the camp in an hour and she had to bash his head in six months later with a sledge hammer.

“Who’re your friends, Martha?” One of the other people asked. It was four girls counting Martha, lucky, none of ‘em white, but they all looked around the same age as Dot and Shelby.

“This is Shelby,” Martha grinned, “And Dot.”

Dot nodded at them.

“I am just so pleased to make your acquaintance,” Shelby smiled, holding out her hand to the girl who still had an arm wrapped around Martha.

“This is Toni,” Martha said, squeezing the girl’s side when she didn’t take Shelby’s hand. “And Rachel and Nora.”

“Ah,” Shelby smiled, “Toni your sister right?”

Martha nodded, Toni glared. “Yeah it’s great to meet you or whatever. There a reason you kidnapped Martha?”

“I saw her passed out and worried she was alone,” Shelby explained. “I knew we had some tablets back at the camp but—”

“What do you want?” Rachel asked. “We got about six hundred if that’s—” Martha from Austin, Dot’s ass. Money hadn’t meant shit in Texas for awhile. These kids were from up north, probably pretty far up north too. Maine or some shit. Delaware.

“Got any cigs?” Dot asked.

“Yes,” Nora said. “We have a couple packs.”

“Great,” Dot held out her hands and two packs were dropped into them. Nora didn’t make eye contact the entire time, her hands fidgeting with anything. She was covered in scabs and scars, picking at her own skin probably.

“Where y’all headed?” Shelby asked.

“None of your business,” Toni said.

“Apparently the San Antonio Zone relocated to Tyler,” Martha said. “We heard some people talking about it last week.”

“Y’all got a radio?” Dot asked.

Martha shook her head.

“If you had one you’d know that that’s what they’re pulling now, telling people to go to Tyler, they shoot you as soon as you step foot in Athens.”

“So where are you guys headed?” Rachel demanded.

“West,” Shelby said. “Radio says they’re ferrying clean folks to Hawaii. It’s an island so.”

“Clean how?” Rachel asked, taking a step forward and lifting her jaw.

Dot sighed.

Shelby’s eyes widened, “Clean as in not infected, I mean.”

“Chill,” Rachel smiled, all thin, “I was kidding.”

“Great,” Dot said. “Not that this hasn’t been fun, but we should be going.”

“Wait,” Martha said. “It’s just, we might as well go west too. And we might as well go west together.”

“Marty,” Toni grabbed her by her uninjured arm, “I wanna talk to you for a moment.”

They got into a whispered argument for a few minutes. Rachel joined and it escalated but Martha came out on top, smiling as she approached them.

“We might as well go together,” she repeated.

Shelby’s smile was just as wide, “We would be alighted to have you.”

The new girls were a nightmare. Rachel and Nora, sisters as Dot would learn, hated one another. And by hated Dot meant, had a complicated relationship of love without trust or mutual respect. Nora didn’t trust Rachel, Rachel didn’t respect Nora, and they were constantly going at one another. Toni had some sorta toxic jealousy thing going on, despising Shelby because she was monopolizing Martha. She also tended to fly into these rages, making her wander off for long periods that had Dot itching to grab her gun and demanding the girl strip to check for bites. Mateo’s dad used to do the same thing, wander off to check his bite.

Shelby also was wholly focused on two things now: Martha, and Toni’s hate. Dot ambled along behind all of ‘em, keeping the sisters from killing each other, Toni’s voice down, and everyone else alive.

The worst part was it took Dot nearly three days before she caught sight of it.

“You have one hand,” Dot glared at Rachel. Rachel slung the pack over her shoulder.

“You’re just noticing that now?” Rachel asked. “I must be getting better with it.”

“The fuck happened?” Dot said.

“My hand got bit,” Rachel shrugged. “Cut it off before it spread, didn’t even know it would work.”

Dot whistled, low and quiet, like they were all used to being.

“I cut it off,” Nora corrected, sullenly.

Rachel rolled her eyes.

“I’m still quicker on the draw than you,” Rachel said, the words clunky in her mouth.

Dot set her jaw, “So y’all are sticking with the story that you’re from Austin?”

“We’re from New York,” Nora said. Rachel glared at her. “What? You think some group would waste three days on four teenage girls?”

“New York?” Dot asked. “Everyone knows it’s safer up north, why the hell are you down here?”

“You hear about Yonkers?” Rachel asked.

Dot shook her head.

“It was the last op the US military set up before they fell apart. We’d made it out by then but we watched it happen on the news. Someone in a group we had still had a phone and the whole thing was live streamed. All of the death. The group were supposed to go to some military bases up in Canada but we wanted a wide open space with plenty of guns.”

“Texas,” Dot said.

Rachel nodded.

“Stupid,” Dot told her. “You probably came for San Antonio too.”

Rachel sighed, “Nobody was gonna survive those Canadian winters without a base, and we weren’t sure we were gonna get one. Rather get bit than freeze.”

“How’d you meet Toni and Martha?” Dot asked.

“Toni and I got into a fistfight over some Takis,” Rachel said.

Dot nodded, “Fuego?”

“Fuego.”

And yeah they were a nightmare but quicker than Dot wanted they became her nightmare. Still though, she dragged Shelby away from Martha and Toni’s sides, and muttered, “we can still go. Ditch if you want. Whenever. We don’t know ‘em.”

Shelby, in high school, woulda been scandalized, muttered some bible passage at her. This Shelby was a little more grown and only looked at her all serious.

“You knew what I was when you picked me up,” she said. “And I knew what Martha was. We’ll face our consequences, I reckon.”

Dot nodded.

Walking all day, everyday, wasn’t easy stuff. Especially since they had to strip as many bodies as they could find. Nora figured it out pretty quick, mumbling something to Rachel who recruited Toni to storm over to Dot.

“You don’t smoke them, but you’re hoarding them,” Rachel said. “Why?”

Dot kept her easy pace. “These things are currency now, the value’ll only go up over time.”

“Currency for what?” Toni asked. “What are you trying to buy?”

“You think a ferry to Hawaii is free?” Dot asked. “I’m saving for all of us.”

“Dottie,” Shelby walked over, Martha sticking by Nora, “What’s up?”

“How much?” Toni asked. “Really, how much?”

“A hundred each,” Dot said, too quickly.

“Try again,” Rachel said.

“Dot,” Shelby got between them, looking at Dot. “Thou shalt not lie, right? Tell ‘em the truth.” Dot glared at her and Shelby turned back around to Rachel. “It’s five hundred each. We got about a hundred now, so no one’s going to Hawaii.”

“What if there aren’t enough?” Toni asked. “Who decides then?”

“We’ll draw straws,” Shelby said.

It was as easy a solution as anything but the tenseness started building up, Rachel and Toni viewing Dot with more suspicion. It’d fade, over time, Dot knew. Or they’d all die.

The worst it got, was actually Shelby’s doing, the easy peace maker of it all. They hadn’t bothered building a fire, despite how cold and exposed it got in Texas at night, but they huddled together between three cars they found abandoned along the highway that they pushed into a triangle. Someone got to the seat cushions of all three first, so there was nothing comfortable to lie their heads on. It was easy for Dot though, the asphalt as soft as anything to her now.

They stayed up later than they should’ve talking. Trading stories about their old life that all of them knew weren’t doing any good. Toni played basketball, was pretty good at it too. Rachel had a skill for swimming she’d never have again. Nora did quiz bowl, surprising no one. Dot talked about metal, fishing with her dad, what types of pills sold for what. Martha was a dancer, and a vegetarian once. It was something that made ‘em all crack up. When humans become man eating beasts, and once upon a time there were jokes online about vegans. Shelby talked about the yearbook, mission trips, Andrew.

But then cause Shelby started it by prattling on about Andrew Toni got it in her head to talk about Regan and Shelby was talking about Leviticus.

The next morning, Rachel quietly pulled Dot aside and told her to take all the cigarettes and head out. That they could make their own way west. Dot didn’t ask for an invitation to go with her.

They split off at the twenty-five, Dot and Shelby heading for the forty, Toni, Martha, Rachel, and Nora heading for the sixty.

Shelby was heartbroken for a few days, apologetic too, and grateful. Dot didn’t let her have any of that, only said, “It’s cause we’re from the same town. We might be the only ones from there left.”

They trudged on.

In Arizona Dot found the love of her life, her soulmate, Fatin Jadmani. In a completely straight way too. Fatin matched her tit for tat, spoke a language Dot hadn’t realized she’d been born knowing. Her girlfriend was an anxious woman named Leah, who Shelby got on with. Dot had worried, upon bringing the two back to camp, that Shelby would chase ‘em away again, but she hadn’t. Just smiled at the two of them, easily offering up a couple granola bars.

Whenever tenseness came about Fatin just laughed, and Leah rolled her eyes. It wasn’t perfect, Dot knew, there was too much hate for that, but it would last ‘em long enough. The four of ‘em just worked in this great lovely way.

Only problem was their destination.

“We barely managed to get out of LA,” Leah mumbled, she hugged her legs, her head leaning on Fatin’s shoulder.

“LA?” Shelby asked. “That’s where we’re headed.”

“What the fuck?” Fatin glared at Dot, “Dorthy I thought you had more sense than that.”

“There’s some military guys ferrying people to Hawaii,” Dot said.

“Where’d you hear that, the radio?” Fatin asked. She sighed at their nods, “They’re broadcasting out to whoever will hear it, but there is no ferry to Hawaii. The entire thing is just selling and shipping as many girls out as possible. We have no idea where though.”

“So when you say you barely made it out,” Dot said.

Fatin’s face was grim.

“We have to warn ‘em,” Shelby said.

“Warn who?” Dot asked.

“Toni and the others! They don’t know!” Shelby stood up. “I’ll plot out the course now and we’ll start out fresh tomorrow. We aren’t leaving ‘em to—to—we aren’t leaving ‘em.” She stormed off and Dot watched her go.

“She wants to go towards LA to help some motherfuckers who kicked you out of their group?” Fatin asked.

“Yeah,” Dot said.

“Are you gonna go with her?” Leah asked.

“I knew what she was when I picked her up,” Dot said.

“What do you wanna do?” Leah asked Fatin.

Fatin pressed her cheek to Leah’s head, “I don’t know if I can risk you.” Fatin looked at Dot, “Are you gonna be stupid?”

“No,” Dot said.

“Then we’ll come,” Fatin sighed. “Leah that okay?” Leah nodded.

Neither of ‘em were as good at offing zed as Shelby and Dot. Fatin was decent at finding stuff though, scoping stuff, and Leah had endurance none of the rest of ‘em could match. She was like a zed sometimes, just kept going, could keep going, until her knees wore down to dust and then she’d crawl, crawl until her fingers wore down to nubs and then she’d inch, inch until something put her out of her misery. It terrified Fatin and Shelby, but Dot couldn’t help being impressed.

So Dot ambled after Shelby toward Bethlehem on the forty but they were gonna leap back on the interstate and hopefully head ‘em off. Hopefully Martha, Toni, Rachel, and Nora’d be alive, and they’d find ‘em. And if they didn’t find ‘em, hopefully they’d be dead. And Shelby stopped sleeping about a day or two into trek. Would just keep staring at the maps and keeping watch, and taking inventory and thumbing around her necklace.

When Dot woke up on the third day of their walk, Shelby’s hair was much shorter and Fatin looked real scared. Shelby kept walking and walking and, in a fit of rage that matched Toni’s, launched her necklace off the highway. She looked like she regretted it after but they had no choice but to keep going.

They passed an arm and it looked like Rachel’s.

Shelby walked faster. Leah had that glint in her eye. Fatin took Dot’s hand and looked very very scared.

After two more days Shelby said fuck it, and found a car with some gas in it and told 'em to get in.

Dot stood in front, “Shelby,” Shelby glared at her, “This’ll attract every body in the fucking country. The sound, the smell, I’m not just talking about the dead ones neither.”

Shelby swallowed hard, “You gonna stay behind then?”

“Shelby,” Dot said. “If you leave me here I’ll get caught up in the hoard. That what you want?”

“Get in the damn car, Dottie!” Shelby said.

“If we get to ‘em in time, but there’s a fucking hoard following us, we won’t have anywhere to go but on,” Dot said. “Fucking think!”

“I am thinking,” Shelby spat back. She shoved Dot, “I’m thinking about Toni, and Martha walking from Minnesota to Texas only to die in California. I’m thinking about Nora and Rachel watching Yonkers fall and then getting shipped off to who knows where. That’s what I’m thinking.”

“Shelby we can make it,” Leah said.

“No we can’t!” Shelby said. “I’ve done the math, I keep looking at these maps, there’s no way we’ll make it in time without a mode of transportation. No car and they die.”

“Then what the fuck are we going there?” Dot asked. “If it’s too late—”

“It is not too late!” Shelby said, her throat was all closed and choked sounding. “I can save ‘em! Jesus fuckin Christ we have to help ‘em!”

“Shelby,” Dot said, she put a hand on her shoulder. “We can’t take a car, and we can’t make it by foot,” Shelby’s face crumpled. “They’re gone, alright? We should be planning our next move.”

“No,” Leah said. She shook her head, “We have to help them.”

“You don’t even know ‘em,” Dot said.

“I’m not letting four innocent girls go through what I nearly went through,” Leah said.

“I’m with Leah,” Fatin said. “We’ll take the car and play it by ear.”

“Play the-hoard-that-will-start-coming-after-us-the-second-we-turn-on-the-engine by ear?” Dot asked.

“Let’s vote,” Shelby said. “All in favor of going?”

Fatin, Leah, and Shelby all raised their hands.

“C’mon,” Dot begged. She looked at Fatin, “You told me not to be stupid!”

“So don’t be stupid,” Fatin said. “Get in the car.”

Dot sighed, wanted to punch something, wanted to cry, was too tired to do either, got in the car.

The car attracted so many fucking zed, they wouldn’t be able to stop, and they had to hope there was enough in the fucking tank to get them to wherever the four were. Dot watched the dead bodies creep closer, at their slow hobbling, relentless pace. Fatin drove, Shelby used her pike to spear any who got too close, Dot watched the maps and steadily got herself into a panic.

They were gonna die trying to save the asses of some girls they spent a couple days with.

This was not what Shelby was when Dot picked her up, this was not what she was. Shelby had gone behind Dot’s back and fucking grown as a person, hadn’t she? How the fuck was Dot gonna get away from her? She’d have to pack Fatin in a suitcase and then Leah too and that would mean entirely abandoning Shelby to be on her lonesome oh god.

Dot was stuck, wasn’t she.

As they kept driving Shelby had to keep spearing zed. It started off as one or two, but as the hours wore on they were leaning on five, six, a steady growing mass ambling behind ‘em.

If that had really been Rachel’s arm, they were probably dead. All of ‘em. Or maybe in the mass behind ‘em. And if they weren’t, they’d hear the car coming and head for the hills, assuming it meant a hoard was close behind. Which it was.

This was such a fucking terrible idea.

“So what, we just wait for a sign to say welcome to LA and then give up? We won’t find ‘em like this,” Dot said.

“Shut up!” Shelby said, she speared another.

“At least check you ain’t offing one of ours,” Dot said. “They could all be zed, for all we know.”

“I said shut up,” Shelby turned to glare at her and a zed slammed against the door. She speared it and Dot’s mouth clamped shut. “We just gotta keep going,” she said. “We’ll be fine, we just gotta keep moving.”

“You’re crazy,” Dot said.

Shelby didn’t have anything to say to that.

It was worse at nightfall, with visibility down, and they just had to keep going, to hope their car wasn’t stripped when they went over the bumps of mutilated corpses still hungry for a last meal.

“We’re almost to LA,” Shelby said. “We got nearly a hundred cigs, we might be able to bribe someone if they jump us.”

Leah snorted.

They were driving through an empty enough part of Nevada though, less corpses hurling themselves off the road and towards them. Still the ever growing mass behind ‘em now, maybe fifty, seventy five, but about twenty out.

“I gotta piss,” Dot said.

“Hurry,” Fatin said.

Dot stumbled out, no one noticing her grabbing her pack. The zed would follow the car, she’d make a clean break. She’d survive.

She was only seven minutes south, judging by the north star Shelby taught her to find when someone’s hand grabbed her. She pulled out her hand gun, jamming it into the head and flicking the safety off.

“Dot! Jesus Christ!”

The girl was wide-eyed, tan, hollowed out, empty and desperate. Reminded her of the empty pill bottles around her house after her dad died.

“Toni?”

Toni nodded, “Why are you here? Fuck that I don’t give a shit, you got water?” Dot handed it to her and Toni downed it. “The other’s are close, c’mon.” She stumbled as she got up, clearly dizzy, and Dot grabbed her forearm.

“We’ve been looking everywhere for you guys,” Dot said.

“Don’t tell me it’s you in the fucking car,” Toni said. “We’ve been running from that thing for ages.”

“I fucking told Shelby,” Dot said.

“Shelby?” Toni asked, she was almost too exhausted to sound disgusted, but she managed it.

“Listen, LA isn’t safe, we found out. They’re not taking kids to Hawaii, they’re taking them.”

Toni went pale, “Fuck.” She even sounded choked now. “Shelby’s having a fucking aneurysm worrying about you so I don’t even think she’s that fucking homophobic. I’ll get everyone back to the car, you tell ‘em I’m coming.”

Toni nodded, stumbling towards the street and Dot walked back to the direction Toni pointed to before she left. Rachel, Nora, and Martha were all in various points of disarray. Exhausted, dehydrated, starving, aching and bleeding. Dot had to half carry, half drag Nora with Martha and Rachel had to get a stick to lean on as they stumbled toward the street.

“We got like ten minutes,” Fatin said. “People are gonna have to double buckle, and before anyone else makes a decision, we’re going north.”

Dot strapped everyone in and found herself sitting next to Shelby who met her eyes in a hundred yard stare.

“You took your pack.”

“Yeah.”

“But you came back.”

“Yeah.”

“Fine.”

They started on again. Dot saw Toni keep sneaking glances at Shelby and Shelby kept sneaking ‘em back.

They weren’t far from Mt. Tobin when the two finally stopped dancing around each other.

Dot convinced everyone to ditch the car near LA, walking as quickly as they could once they did, knowing it’d take awhile to ditch the hoard too. Dot watched Toni talk to Shelby in low tones, Shelby full of apologies and panics and Toni keeping her cool longer than Dot had ever seen it.

Martha took to Fatin quickly, everyone did, and Nora and Leah spent long hours walking beside each other mumbling about books or something. Not anything Dot gave two shits about.

Rachel ambled along with Dot most of the time. Whenever Fatin and Leah were all over each other and Dot didn’t feel like third wheeling. Rachel was always listening to the radio and as time passed it became clear that the two of them were the most capable of keeping everyone alive. And not in a more knowledgable way. Because Nora knew what plants were edible, and Shelby was a better shot. Or in an emotional way, because Fatin and Martha handled that. But in a planning sorta way. Because Dot knew how to get them to point B, while Rachel was working on point E.

“We should go to Washington,” Rachel muttered on one of the late nights they spent keeping watch while they poured over maps. “We might be able to find a boat to Victoria.”

“Victoria?” Rachel pointed her out.

“It’s a Canadian island. Canada lasted a little longer than we did, Victoria might not be in such a bad way.”

“Less guns in Canada,” Dot said. “And there might not be a boat that’ll take us there. Plus, we don’t know the currency.”

“We’re eight teenage girls,” Rachel pointed out. “We stick around so close to Cali, we’re asking for trouble. We need to put an ocean between us and whatever the fuck they’re doing there.”

Dot sighed. So they’d go to Washington.

On the way they’d probably run into another group who’d tell them Washington was overrun but there was something decent in Wisconsin. Half way to Wisconsin someone would tell ‘em their information was bad and they need to get south where there were guns and space. They’d almost be in Georgia when someone would tell ‘em there was some real government up in New York again.

They’d follow pipe dream to pipe dream to pipe dream. They’d probably die young.

Toni curled around Shelby, holding Martha’s hand. Fatin and Leah held on for dear life. Rachel didn’t take her eyes off Nora. Dot watched them all.

Yeah they’d probably die young. Better than dying alone.

[bluejayblueskies]

philautia

n. a love based on deep connection to one’s well-being and built upon a love for one’s self; a centered wholeness

Words: 2.3k

Fandom: The Magnus Archives

Relationship: Sasha James & Tim Stoker & Martin Blackwood & Jonathan Sims, Past Tim Stoker/Sasha James, Minor Jonathan Sims/Martin Blackwood

Characters: Tim Stoker, Martin Blackwood, Jonathan Sims, Sasha James

Additional Tags: AU - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Fluff and Humor, Statement Fic (but not in the way you expect!), Aromantic and Asexual Characters, Implied/Referenced Homophobia (very minor), Implied/Referenced Arophobia (also very minor)

Summary:

SASHA

So, according to Tim, I’m supposed to be recording a statement on, quote, my “most swashbucklingest experience as an esteemed member of the LGBT community.” He left this recorder on my desk and stole my scone. Timothy Stoker, I will not forget that.

---

Statements of members of the archival staff at the Magnus Institute, London, regarding certain facets of their aspec identities. Statements compiled by Timothy Stoker on 10th June, 2016. For personal use only.

Ao3 link in reblogs

Or read below:

[CLICK]

 MARTIN

 —really don’t think this is necessary—

 TIM

 Aaaaand we’re recording!

 MARTIN

 (exasperated) Tim.

 TIM

 Oh, come on Martin, it’s more fun this way!

 [MARTIN MAKES A NOISE OF DISAGREEMENT]

 TIM

 You cannot look me in the eye and tell me that this doesn’t appeal to your, and I quote, “retro aesthetic.”

 MARTIN

 (reluctantly) It… might.

 TIM

 See! So it’s perfect!

 …

 [HE SIGHS]

 Obviously you don’t have to if you don’t want to, Martin. I just thought it might be nice—to have something to look back on when we’re all old and sick of each other, you know? Here, I can go first.

 MARTIN

 Tim, you don’t have to—

 TIM

 (overlapping, adopting the ‘Archivist’ voice) Statement of Timothy Stoker, regarding the first time he went to Pride with his brother, Danny. June 10th, 2016.

 (cheekily) Statement begins.

 TIM (STATEMENT)

 (in his normal voice) I realized I was into blokes too when I was 15, you know. Think it took me a while because of the whole ace thing, though that took me until I was in uni to really figure out. I was still fine with sex, you know, always enjoyed it when it came up, just… never really wanted it with anyone in particular. So I suppose I’d assumed for a while that the things I was feeling toward other guys weren’t romantic because I never had the sexual parts to go along with them. (with wry humor) Almost ruined a few relationships that way, actually.

 But I’m getting a bit off-topic. Can’t be one of those rambling statement givers Jon hates. God, I can see his face now, that thing he does with his nose—Martin, you know the one, the- the way it looks like he’s just smelled something really, really rank.

 MARTIN

 I thought you said you weren’t going to ramble.

 TIM

 Cheeky, cheeky. Okay, where was I. Right.

 TIM (STATEMENT)

 Mom and Dad weren’t real big on the whole bi thing, so the first time I got the chance to go to Pride was in uni. The first time I got the chance to go with Danny was after he turned 18 and got his first modeling gig. At least, I think he was already modeling back then. Point is, we were both out of the house, and Danny had been dying to go to Pride with me ever since I sent him pictures of me and Sasha eating an entire box of rainbow-colored donuts that first year. I’d figured out I was ace by then, but it had been pretty recent, so when we got there, I found one of the vendors selling those big flags you drape over your shoulders and got an ace one. Felt a bit weird having the ace flag instead of the bi one like the other years, but I had worn that pink, blue, and purple button-down Sasha got me for Christmas once, so overall, it felt all right.

 And Danny—god, he loved it. Pretty sure he ate his weight in fried food that day.

 [HE LAUGHS]

 Almost got the aro flag he’d borrowed from Sasha dirty, actually, when he—

 (quickly changes course) Ah, nothing! Sasha, if you’re listening to this, absolutely nothing happened to your flag, and I definitely did not have it laundered before I returned it to you.

 TIM

 Aaaaand that’s it! Statement ends, I guess.

 See—easy! (a bit more seriously) But really—you don’t have to record one if you don’t want to, Martin.

 MARTIN

 …

 No, I- I want to.

 TIM

 Are you sure? I don’t want you to do that thing where you just do something because you think someone else wants you to.

 MARTIN

 I do not—!

 …

 Okay, okay, fine. Point taken. But yeah, I- I’m sure.

 [RUSTLING AS THE TAPE RECORDER IS PASSED FROM TIM TO MARTIN]

 MARTIN

 (with an audible smile) Statement of, er, Martin Blackwood. Regarding… a crush. No, no, wait—god, that sounds so juvenile. Regarding himself, and a person who- er, someone whom he—

 [HE SIGHS]

 Fine. Regarding a crush. Statement given June 10th, 2016.

 Statement begins.

 MARTIN (STATEMENT)

 I’m always a little embarrassed to tell people that I’ve never dated anyone before? Okay, a- a lot embarrassed, actually. I try not to bring it up, but people will say things like, oh, you know how it is to shop for a partner or meeting her parents is definitely nerve-wracking—which is wrong on, er, two accounts, actually—and then I feel more awkward not telling them that I don’t know, actually, because I’ve never been in a relationship longer than a week or so. Then, they’ll get all sympathetic, like it’s some- some tragedy that I’m not involved with someone, and that’s worse, because then they’ll offer to set me up with people, or say that they don’t understand why I’m single because I’m a catch or whatever, and I have to give them some excuse about not interested at the moment.

 It’s not that, not really. Dates with strangers, they- they just never work out for me.

 I think I fall somewhere on the aromantic spectrum? I didn’t think about it much until Sasha mentioned it once over drinks—I think you were there, Tim, although you were (laughs) very drunk by that point. I told her I hadn’t had a crush on anyone since sixth form, and she threw around a bunch of terms. I- I honestly don’t really remember, it was kind of overwhelming and (laughs) I was also pretty drunk as well. But yeah, it… it sounds about right.

 (hesitantly, as if bracing himself for impact) So… this person. Who I, er. Recently, that is, who I…

 [HE CLEARS HIS THROAT]

 It’s really strange, that’s all. And a- a lot. I—heh—I don’t really know what to do about it.

 MARTIN

…

 Uh, statement ends? I guess? I, uh, don’t really have anything else to say. (jokingly) It’s not like there’s any, er, follow-up or whatever. (to Tim) Was- was that okay?

 TIM

 (audibly smiling) Yup! Most excellent, Marto. (more seriously) You felt okay, right?

 MARTIN

 (huh) Yeah. Yeah, I- I did. A bit nice, actually. (quickly) As- as long as this stays in the archives, though. It… it is staying in the archives, right?

 TIM

 Oh, definitely. Right next to the section on love potions, I think.

 MARTIN

 Tim!

 TIM

 (laughs) Yes, Martin, it’s staying in the archives. Pinkie promise. Just you, me, Sasha, and Jon. (in the tone of a man who knows a great secret and wants nothing more than to share it) Speaking of Jon—

 MARTIN

 (quickly) Uh, recording ends!

 TIM

 (undeterred) —is he the—?

 [CLICK]

.

 [CLICK]

 SASHA

 Right. So, according to Tim, I’m supposed to be recording a statement on, quote, my “most swashbucklingest experience as an esteemed member of the LGBT community.” He left this recorder on my desk and stole my scone. Timothy Stoker, I will not forget that. It was white chocolate raspberry, and I’m stealing the money it cost out of your wallet.

 …

 Anyway.

[SHE CLEARS HER THROAT]

 Statement of Sasha James, given 10th June 2016. Subject of statement is… hmm. Let’s say… (laughs) A brief relationship with one Timothy Stoker.

 Statement begins.

 SASHA (STATEMENT)

 Tim, I know you’re listening to this, and I just want to preface this by saying that yes, it was Italian that we had for dinner that night, not Greek. You’re thinking of a different friendship-turned-hookup-turned-awkward-aftermath-turned-friendship.

 [SHE LAUGHS QUIETLY]

 Anyway, I guess the best place to begin with this whole thing is by saying that I’ve known I was aro since I was 16 and that I’ve never been very good at talking about it. I’ve ended plenty of tried and failed relationships with the it’s-not-you-it’s-me talk because I didn’t know how to explain that I just… wasn’t interested in romance.

 I wanted to explain it to you beforehand, Tim, I really, really did. We’ve had this conversation, I know I know—I won’t rehash it over tape.

 [SHE SIGHS]

 But the important thing is that I like you so, so much, and—god, this is stupid—I guess maybe I thought that it wouldn’t matter with you? That you could like me romantically and I could like you platonically and it would be fine. Like I said, stupid, but you asked me out to that Italian place—yes, Italian, for god’s sake, I had the chicken parm and you had some sort of lasagna abomination—and I just… couldn’t say no. And it was nice, really. I had a lot of fun.

 And then we slept together. And… that was really nice. But then, the next morning, the… the guilt set in. Because I felt the same as I always had about you—which is to say that I loved you, just not in the same way you loved me—and I became convinced that I’d gone and ruined the whole thing.

 Ignoring you for a week was probably not the correct response. (quieter) Yeah, definitely not my finest moment. But I’d gotten it in my head that the moment I told you that I didn’t feel that way about you and that I would never feel that way about you—or about anyone—you’d hate me. And you don’t have to say that you’d never hate me—I know you wouldn’t. I think I knew it then, too. But fear is a powerful thing.

 …

 Anyway, you know how it all turned out. You finally dragged me out to coffee and I finally told you why I’d been avoiding you and it was really, really awkward for about a month after that and then it just… wasn’t anymore. (audibly smiling) And you’re still my best friend, Tim. Even if you did steal my scone.

 [THE SOUND OF PAPERS RUSTLING AND A CHAIR ROLLING BACKWARD]

 Recording ends.

 [CLICK]

 .

 [CLICK]

 ARCHIVIST

 Statement of Kyle Henning, regarding a strange mushroom he found growing in his garden. Original statement given April 15th, 2011. Audio recording by Jonathan Sims, Head Archivist of the Magnus Institute, London.

 Statement begi—

 [DOOR OPENS]

 TIM

 Hey boss! Got a moment?

 ARCHIVIST

 (irritated) Tim, please at least knock when the door to my office is closed. I was just about to record a statement.

 TIM

 (unbothered) So if you were about to, that means you’re not recording one right now, which means you do have a moment.

 ARCHIVIST

 (flatly) Shut the door on your way out, Tim.

 TIM

 (brightly) Right you are, boss! Juuuust going to leave this here on your desk. Bring it back whenever you’re done!

 [PAPERS RUSTLE AS SOMETHING IS PLACED ON THE DESK]

 ARCHIVIST

 (dryly) I’m fairly certain that I’m the one who assigns you tasks to complete, Tim.

 TIM

 That you do! I guess I better get back to them then. Have fun!

 ARCHIVIST

 (firmly) Tim—

 [DOOR CLOSES]

 [HE SIGHS]

 ARCHIVIST

 Right. Well, given that this recording is essentially useless now and I hadn’t even gotten to the statement, I may as well start over. (mutters under his breath) Bloody waste of tape and my time—

 [CLICK]

 .

 [CLICK]

 [PAPERS RUSTLE. FOR A MOMENT, THERE IS ONLY THE SOUND OF BREATHING. THEN, JON SIGHS.]

 ARCHIVIST

 Before I begin, I would like to make it very clear that this is not an appropriate use of working hours or the tape recorders, which should be used for statements that won’t record digitally as per Elias’s request.

 …

 That being said, I am… not entirely opposed to this project. So, I suppose…

 [HE CLEARS HIS THROAT]

 Statement of Jonathan Sims, Head Archivist of the Magnus Institute, London, regarding… regarding a black ring worn on the middle finger of his right hand. Statement recorded by subject, June 10th, 2016.

 Statement begins.

 ARCHIVIST (STATEMENT)

 I’ve often been told that I am not a very open person. I don’t necessarily intend to be closed-off, but I’ve also never found the need to disclose every aspect of my personal life to everyone I come into contact with. And yes, Tim—because I trust that you and you alone will be listening to this tape—that is a perfectly respectable way to live one’s life. Not everyone needs to know what I ate for breakfast that morning or who my favorite primary school teacher was.

 …

 I… will admit, though, that in certain circumstances, I… could probably stand to be more transparent regarding aspects of my personal life. Perhaps that’s why Georgie bought me the ring.

 It wasn’t a special occasion. She just brought it back from the shop one day, a few weeks after a… particularly illuminating conversation about certain sexual identities, and dropped it atop my copy of Wuthering Heights. Honestly, I had no idea what it was at first. I- (heh) I tried to make a joke about unorthodox proposals, but I- I don’t really think it landed. Georgie just looked at me and said that she’d seen it on one of the online forums, that it was called an ace ring, and that she thought I might like it. I think I was more surprised about the fact that the ring fit perfectly than at the fact that she’d bought me the ring in the first place.

 So I wore it. And it felt… nice. Understand, I don’t keep quiet about my romantic and sexual identities out of shame or embarrassment or indecision; I simply don’t feel the need to announce them at any given moment. So I’ve always been fond of small things—pins and stickers and such—that I can incorporate into my life, insignificant enough that they aren’t readily apparent to anyone but me, as they’re for me more than for anyone else. My ring is one such thing.

 [THERE IS A MOMENT OF SILENCE. MORE WORDS SIT IN THE AIR, WAITING. EVENTUALLY, HOWEVER, HE SIGHS, AND THE WORDS REMAIN UNSAID.]

 ARCHIVIST

 Statement ends.

 …

 Right.

 (with something that might be a smile) As for your other request, I do have a prior engagement with Georgie and Melanie this weekend. Though if you’re willing to accommodate two more, I’m sure they wouldn’t be opposed to coming along. Georgie’s always telling me that Pride is more fun when you’re with a group, after all.

 End recording.

 [CLICK]

[southeastasianists]

"My father taught me that criticising our king was a sin. A taboo."

But Danai, 19, is now defying his father's warning. A law student in Bangkok, he is one of tens of thousands of protesters who have packed the streets of the Thai capital every month this summer, demanding reform of the monarchy.

His father Pakorn is a well-travelled, upper middle class man. His name and his son's name have been changed to protect their identity.

Although they don't live in the same house, they still see each other often. But every time they meet, they avoid speaking about one subject: the monarchy.  

"If we talk about it we'll have a row and it will ruin our day," Danai says.

"Once we had an argument in our car after I criticised the king. For my father the king is untouchable. I asked, why? He said that I am too young to understand. He got very angry, then he went quiet and wouldn't speak to me."

Danai's family isn't alone. Disagreements like this over the role of an institution with sacrosanct status in Thailand is playing out in homes - in cities and in the countryside - around the country.

Falling out online

But families in Thailand don't just argue about the monarchy face-to-face, many decide to have it out on social media.

And things can get pretty extreme.

When a university student in the northern city of Chiang Mai revealed on Facebook in September that her father wanted to sue her because of her anti-monarchy views, he responded by posting that she was no longer allowed to use his family name.

Pakorn believes that university teachers are responsible for his son's behaviour.

"In Thai society there are groups of hard-core people who are anti-royalists. Also the internet and social media keep pouring out misleading information and fake news. Young people absorb quickly without filtering," he says.

Danai challenged his father about the monarchy for the first time when he was 17.

"We were at the cinema. Before the film started, when the royal anthem was played as usual, everyone stood up to pay respect to the king. I didn't want to do that, so I stayed in my seat. My father forced me to get up, but I resisted. Only when people started staring at us, did I finally stand."

Refusing to stand when the royal anthem was playing used to be illegal in Thailand, until the law was repealed in 2010. But failing to do so is still seen by many as disrespecting the monarchy.

Historic tradition

Thais are taught from birth to revere and love their king, but also to fear the consequences of speaking out against him. The so-called Land of Smiles is one of a very small number of countries with a lese majeste law. This means that criticising the king, the queen or the heir to the throne is illegal - and anyone doing so could be jailed for up to 15 years.

Today, Danai doesn't stand up in the cinema any more.

Since July, thousands of university students have taken to the streets, and have continued to do so despite a state of emergency in recent days and the arrest of many of the protest leaders.

They are demanding curbs on the king's nearly unlimited powers and finances. These requests may seem tame to people in other parts of the world, but in Thailand no one has publicly challenged the monarchy in modern history.

The student protests shocked most Thais - including Danai's father, Pakorn.  

"I was born in the reign of King Rama IX. He did more for his people than for his own children. When he was ill, I was ready to leave this world if that could have made him live longer. But Generation Z, like my son, don't have that experience."

A new king

This clash of generations would have been unthinkable just a few years ago. But the crowning of the new monarch, King Maha Vajiralongkorn, changed everything.

The new king is rarely seen in public, and spends most of his time in Germany - even more so since Thailand was hit by the coronavirus pandemic.

There have been questions over his decision to take personal command of all military units based in Bangkok - a concentration of military power in royal hands unprecedented in modern Thailand.

His private life is also much talked about. Divorced three times, he married last year for a fourth time. He also appointed a woman who'd been his bodyguard as his official consort, before disowning and then reinstating her.

By contrast, the late King Rama IX was seen by many as semi-divine. Everywhere he went people would lie before him and call themselves "the dust under his feet".

Pakorn saw the late king in person twice.

"One time, I was in my car and I saw him driving by himself, coming in the opposite direction. There was no motorcade, no sirens. Our eyes met. I was shocked. I think he just wanted to do things like other people, easy and informal. I felt he had an aura around him, his presence was very special."

However during the last 10 years of Rama IX's life, he was ill and stayed in hospital most of the time.

Young Thais like Danai rarely saw him in public. Even so, when the king died Danai posted messages on Facebook showing his sadness and gratitude toward him.

He told the BBC  he now regrets doing that.

"I've just realised that what I was told about him at the time or before that was all propaganda."

Questioning the past

Danai can't understand his father's feelings for the king.

"He is blinded by his love for the monarchy. Talking to him is like talking to a wall. He doesn't want to listen. For now, the only thing I want from my father is for him to be open-minded about this subject, as he normally is with any another issue."

Danai believes his mother is also a royalist but does not support the monarchy as much as his dad. She doesn't ever criticise the monarchy however - and she thinks the protests will fail.

"My mum thinks that reforming the monarchy is something out of reach and protesters can't make this happen," says Danai.

Pakorn says he does not know if getting older and wiser in the future will help his son get closer to him again, and put them back on the same track they both used to be on.

Danai is not sure either.

"It might be possible that I might change my mind about the institution. But I don't think it will happen because I will get older," he says.

"It depends on what happens in reality and the information I receive."

The souring of their relationship because of their opposing views on the king reflects a widening generational divide emblematic of Thai society.

Since the student protests started, families all over Thailand have become increasingly divided.

Parents and children, brothers and sisters, aunts and nephews are all becoming strangers.

A young generation of Thais is questioning the monarchy and everything it represents - and this is likely to be just the beginning of a long, internal struggle.

[petersasteria]

Past is Past - Peter Parker AU

Pairing: Peter x Reader, Harry Osborn x Reader Requested? Nah. It based on one of @writing-prompt-s’ prompts. 2.5k words Warning/s: character death, confusion, a satisfied ending

PP Masterlist

Big thanks to my friend @croissantwriting for the help! She’s doing a little gift-giving this Christmas, so if you want a gift from a stranger who’s super nice and friendly, check it out! 

* * * *

“She’s not getting any better, Mr. Parker. I’m afraid she’ll be going soon.” The doctor told Peter with no expression on their face. The doctor kept their face neutral, so that it wouldn’t be an issue for anyone. It was also protocol at the hospital.

The doctor excused themselves and left Peter standing alone in the cold hallway outside of his wife’s room. Peter couldn’t believe that he would lose the person he truly loved; he would lose her to cancer. ‘Fuck cancer.’ He thought. He wanted his wife to live long; to see their children grow up to be the people they’re meant to be. Alas, it was just wishful thinking.

You see, Peter was immortal. In a world where 2% of the population are born immortal, he was one of them. It could be anyone, really. One’s parents don’t have to be immortal for one to be immortal. They were just cursed that way. Being born immortal was God’s cruel way of letting people stay on Earth to be His stewards of creation for eternity. Whether they like it or not, if they were born immortal, they are immediately tied up and forced into the duty of being God’s steward.

The duty of being God’s steward felt wrong. It feels wrong  to watch mortals move on with their lives while some get stuck, getting caught by the sorrow of this immortality that has been given upon them.

Peter had the saddest eyes for a long time, but it all changed when he met the love of his life. Peter has seen things; someone’s last breath, some more heart breaking scenarios, etc. But everything changed when she came into his life. She appeared as someone new... and well, unexpected. She was a great surprise, though. She gave Peter a brand new purpose, she gave him happiness. Every time Peter was with her, he would forget about his curse.

Peter’s eyes held sadness again and it broke his heart to know that he couldn’t do anything to save her; his one true love. His heart broke at the harsh reality that no matter what happens, he’ll eternally stay on Earth while he watches his loved ones pass on.

Gathering up his courage, Peter took a deep breath before entering her hospital room. He quietly entered her room and slowly shut the door behind him. He observed the sight in front of him: his wife slept peacefully with their youngest son next to her on the bed while their two older children were asleep on the couch.

He silently approached the bed and held his wife’s hand as he sat on the chair that was next to her bed. He brought her hand to his lips and kissed it. This caused her to stir awake and look at him with a small smile adoring her face.

“Peter.” She breathed.

“Hey there.” Peter said softly as tears clouded his vision. It pained him to see her like that; weak and fragile and ill. If only there was a cure for her cancer, he would’ve given it to her in a heartbeat.

“I love you, Peter. So much.” She whispered.

“I love you more than everything else.” Peter said as tears freely streamed down his rosy cheeks.

“Please remember that my love for you is eternal. I’ll look for you in the next life just so I can love you the way I love you now. I promise you that, Peter.” She smiled softly. Peter could only nod, not trusting his voice to speak.

That was their last moment together. She died in her sleep, her youngest cuddling up to her as Peter held her hand.

The moment life left her body, God took it and gave it to the baby girl of the woman giving birth at the same hospital on a different floor.

“Baby, wake up or you’ll be late on your first day.” The man’s voice whispered in her ear. “Y/N, seriously. It’s time to get up. I’ll have the car ready for you.”

Y/N groaned and rubbed the sleep off her eyes before stretching and sitting up. She slowly opened her eyes and the sight of her boyfriend of three years greeted her. She smiled at him and said, “Good morning.”

“Good morning!” He smiled and leaned down to press a kiss on her forehead. “Breakfast is ready.” She hummed in response and got out of bed. Her boyfriend, Harry, led the way to the dining area and as soon as they arrived there, they sat down and ate their breakfast in peace.

Today was their first day in college and they decided it would be best to live together in an apartment near their university. Harry Osborn, Y/N’s boyfriend, was privileged and he was able to buy an apartment unit that suited his standards. After all, his girl deserved the best. Harry is kind and generous which surprised a lot of people considering his lifestyle. Y/N was truly lucky, but Harry claims that he’s the lucky one.

The couple parted their ways when they arrived at the university; both of them studying different courses. The rest of the day was alright. Nothing really significant happened and Y/N kept to herself most of the time. Only mingling when she’s supposed to. It wasn’t until her last subject when things started taking a turn.

Y/N sat at the back of the class and texted Harry as student after student came in the classroom. About ten minutes later, Y/N’s professor walked in.

Her professor was undeniably handsome. He had brown, curly hair and brown eyes. He wasn’t tall, but he wasn’t short either. His height was just right. He looked like he was in his thirties and he had the brightest smile. Naturally, the girls in her class swooned over him which made her chuckle. While she would admit that her professor is handsome, her loyalty remained with Harry. He was her endgame and she was sure. They wouldn’t last long if he wasn’t.

“Hello, everyone! My name is Noah Parker and I’d let you guys call me by my nickname, but that would be unprofessional. So, Mr. Parker or sir would be really nice.” Noah smiled at everyone. He wasted no time in teaching.

“Welcome to history 101 and I’ll be your professor for the whole semester.” Noah smiled and grabbed a chalk to write something on the board. Seeing as the class is for three hours, Noah started with the first lesson.

It was obvious that Noah was passionate about history. Everyone listened and he made history fun. They did some ice breakers and a short group activity and a quick game before the class ended. Noah gave them their first assignment which was really easy and it would be passed two days from now.

The class was dismissed and everyone gathered their things and left. Y/N took her time and Noah was erasing the things he wrote on the board. Y/N approached him and cleared her throat, “Excuse me, Mr. Parker?”

Noah turned around with a smile, but it quickly faded when he saw her. He dropped the eraser as his jaw dropped, his gaze remaining on her. Y/N was confused, so she just picked up the eraser and put it on his desk to avoid Noah’s gaze.

Noah shook his head and said, “I’m sorry, it’s just- mom? Is that you?”

Now, it was definitely weird

“Excuse me?” Y/N chuckled awkwardly.

“I can’t believe it.” Noah said in amusement. “I thought dad was crazy, but he’s right! You’d be in the next life after all. Well, your next life. You and dad can be together again! This is so cool. Oh my god.” Noah rambled in excitement.

“I’m so confused right now.” Y/N confessed. “I’m no one else’s mom and I don’t know who your dad is and I’m definitely not getting back together with anyone because I have a boyfriend. You must be mistaken, sir.”

Noah cleared his throat and said, “Um, was there anything you needed before?”

“Oh, yes!” Y/N’s eyes lit up at the change of topic. It was her saving grace. “I have a question about the homework, actually.”

Y/N asked about the homework and Noah happily explained it to her once more. After that, she left Noah all alone in the classroom.

Since then, everything has been awkward between them. Noah informed his father, Peter Parker, about what happened and Peter wanted to see her; to see if it was true. Now, it was Noah’s mission to get you to meet Peter.

One day after class, Noah asked Y/N to stay behind. She awkwardly sat on the seat in front of his desk and Noah sat on his chair behind his desk.

“I would just like to apologize for my behavior last time.” Noah started. “Second of all, I must tell you that I have this weird connection to you. No matter how far I stay away from you, there’s a force pulling me closer to you. Lastly, if you won’t believe me before, you might believe me now.”

Noah took out his phone out of his pocket and unlocked it. He opened his gallery and clicked on the album full of photos from his childhood, most of them had his mom in it. He handed the phone to Y/N and she gasped at the sight of the photos.

It was like she was looking at a window to the past. The woman in the pictures looked similar to her; not completely alike. She returned the phone to her professor, Noah, and gave him a tight-lipped smile.

“Um, I don’t know what to say.” Y/N said.

“Could you maybe meet my dad? It would mean a lot to him. I told you about him and he wants to see you.” Noah pleaded.

“I find this really weird, to be honest.” Y/N said. “I don’t know anything you’re talking about and frankly, I’m not curious about my past life...sir.”

“I understand, but could you maybe reconsider? My dad would love it if you’d visit.” Noah pleaded. “If you meet my dad, I’ll give you extra credit. You kinda suck at this subject, no offense.”

“None taken.” She said as she thought about it. “What if someone becomes suspicious about my grades going up?”

“I’ll just say that it’s because of your extra work and just say that you’ve been studying a lot recently. So, does this mean that you’ll meet him?” Noah asked hopefully.

“Fine. Mainly because I need extra credit.” Y/N agreed. She wordlessly grabbed her things and left the room. Later that night, she received an email from Noah.

Noah Parker To Y/N Y/L/N

Good evening, Ms. Y/L/N! 

My father would like to meet with you at my childhood home at 123 Hamilton Street, this Saturday at lunch time, 12 noon. Please confirm if you’re available at this time and if not, we can reschedule.

My personal phone number is: xxx-xxx-xxxxx. Please contact me there for more details.

All information will be kept between the two of us .

Thank you and stay safe!

Lo and behold, Y/N stood outside the Parker Residence. She took a deep breath and rang the doorbell. It didn’t take long for a young man to open the door. He looked similar to Noah, but he looked younger.

“Please come in.” The man said as he looked at her. She entered the home and the man led the way to the living room. Y/N made herself comfortable on the couch and the man who opened the door sat across from her.

“Um, I’m Y/N.” She smiled.

“I know.” The man said. “I’m Peter Parker and oh my god. It’s really you.”

“If you don’t mind me asking, what’s your relation to my professor, Noah Parker?” Y/N asked innocently.

“He’s my son.” Peter answered. “And you’re my wife.”

Y/N stared at him as Peter had happy tears streaming down his face, “We can finally be together again and we’ll be happier than ever! We could be a family.”

“I’m so confused. How can you be Mr. Parker father when you look like you’re twenty-three?!” Y/N shrieked.

“I’m immortal, honey. I stopped aging at twenty, but I’m still me! I love you and you love me. We can be together.”

“I’m so sorry, but I don’t know who you are and I can’t just start a life with someone I don’t know. If you think I can do that, then you’re sorely mistaken, sir.” Y/N said.

Peter shook his head, “But you said , on your deathbed, that you’d find me in another life. I’m here! We found each other. I don’t understand why you don’t want to stay. You said that your love for me is eternal and you’d love me the same way you did then. What happened? Why can’t we pick up where we left off?”

“With all due respect, if what you claim is right; if I’m your wife in the past, then I’m sorry I can’t be your wife in this life. I have my own things going on and I’m in a committed and happy relationship. I can’t leave him for you. Besides, you’re way older than I am despite your looks. I’m really sorry.” Y/N said softly.

“This is more heartbreaking than when we found out you had cancer.” Peter chuckled bitterly and nodded in understanding. “You may go now, Y/N. I’m sure your boyfriend would wonder where you are.”

Y/N stood up and walked to him to put a hand on his shoulder, “I’m really sorry, but I’d like to get to know you… as friends.”

Peter nodded, “Alright. That’s better than nothing.”

After that encounter with Peter, Y/N saw him a few times after that even after she graduated from college. She got a decent job and her friendship with Peter and the rest of the Parker family remained. Though they never saw each other after she got a job, they all remained in contact.

Y/N and Harry Osborn finally got married after being together for so long. The Parkers were invited to the wedding, but Peter never showed up. He was crestfallen upon finding out that the woman he loved was getting married to someone else.

A year later, Y/N and Harry welcomed their first born in the world. They have been graced with a son and the couple agreed that if they were going to have a son, Y/N would name him.

As she laid there with the newborn baby boy in her arms, she racked her brains for the perfect name. After thinking about it for a long time, a smile formed her mouth as she looked down at her son. They were alone in the room, her husband was buying some food outside. This moment was very soft and peaceful.

“I know what name to give you now.” Y/N whispered and kissed her son’s forehead. The door opened and revealed her husband with a paper bag with take-out in it.

“Have you thought of a name?” Harry asked quietly as he set the food down on the table.

“Yeah.” She nodded, sure of her decision.

“What’ll you name him?” Harry asked.

“Peter.” She smiled fondly at her son. “His name is Peter.”

* * * *

𝐏𝐄𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐊𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓: @blueleatherbag @harryismysunflower @buckys-little-hoe @sandystoriess @heeeyitskay @slytherin-chaser @quaksonhehe @yaya4302 @lil-mellow-bunbun @starlight-starks @swiftmind @alexx-stancati @sovereignparker @nerdyandproudofitsstuff @pearce14 @cherthegoddess @chewymoustachio @cocoamoonmalfoy @parkerlovebot @supred12 @peterspidey @givebuckyhisplumsnow @beverlythrillz @slutforsr

𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐄𝐑𝐀𝐋 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓:  @marvelousell @justasmisunderstoodasloki @rubberducky-jrr @allyz @osterfieldnholland @miraclesoflove @god-knows-what-am-i-doing @drie-the-derp @hollands-weasley @itstaskeen  @call-me-baby-gir1 @the-panwitch @iamaunicorn4704 @geminiparkers @holland-styles @calltothewild @fancyxparker​ @herbatkazmiloscia @whatthefuckimbisexual @justanothermarvelmaniac @unsaidholland @musicalkeys @lost-in-the-stars03 @hufflepuffprincess24 @hollanddolanfangirl @parkerpeter24 @bellelittleoff @agentnataliahofferson @aqiise @lexirv @blairscott @pearly-pisces @theonly1outof-a-billion @u-rrose @speedymaximoff @theliterarymess

[noveltea-lolita]

Tw-death, self harm, suicidal thoughts

My mom and I had this really long talk.

I’ve been filled with rage, the red emotion directed at her, at the world but mostly at myself. A zombie is what I’ve been for the most part, regressing back to the mess of a person I was a few years ago. Cutting, over caffeinated, never getting out of bed, showering once every two weeks, keeping my family at arm’s length. I hit an all time low last week when I realized I have 50MG anxiety meds in my room- a whole bottle filled with a nirvana I could finally reach. It was a passing thought, one that I dismissed, but it haunted me. Then when I was driving one day I nearly crashed my car on purpose. I was a danger unto myself. I wanted to die. I walked with a cloud over my head that whispered during the day and screamed during the night: you were the last person to see your grandmother alive, YOU should’ve noticed something was WRONG.

That grief was suffocating. It was everywhere in my house since November, but it seemed to hit its peak after Christmas. I became distant from my family and waited for them to ask me what was wrong, which is selfish and something I actually am bothered by when others expect the same from me. I wanted my mom to see how badly I was suffering and I think I will always hate myself for that. But today I exploded.

I was falling through a black abyss, my legs escaped from underneath me and I fell. Nausea consumed me and I could see nothing as I stumbled out the door and into the freezing night; the stars were distant, the moon a beacon of light. I dropped to my knees, heaving, sobbing, and gasping as I told her how sorry I was, that it was all my fault, everything. I had been twenty minutes away, I had been with her. My mom knelt beside me and gathered me in her arms, and rocked me. Crying herself, she broke with me, shattered as she gave me her own guilt and told me things I never knew.

“She called me after you left and she sounded so happy because she had been with you, and she isn’t supposed to have favorites but you so obviously were hers. You filled the hole in her heart that formed after my sister died.” It made me cry harder, honestly, but we talked and held each other beneath the endless sky with a forest at our backs and a field in front of us. I never realized how frail my mother was, how small and skinny she felt beneath my touch; her hands are so large and tough, but the rest of her is frail. It reminded me of my grandmother, and it made me realize how physically distant I am from everyone around me. But after we got the majority of our words out and my mom drew me back into her arms, I smiled.

I smiled against her shoulder because how long had it been since I allowed myself to be held in such a way? And then she whispered, so brokenly, so sadly, “My sister was taken from my mom, she didn’t want to go. Please don’t disappear, please.” And I realized how selfish I was being. How could I die after my mother lost her sister? Her mother? And then I thought of my brother, taller than me and just two years younger than me. He acts like he doesn’t need me, but I’m there to pick him up when he doesn’t have a car, I was the one who held him when we got the news about our grandmother, and I realized- yes. He still needs a big sister. My dad and the tentative relationship we’ve begun to build, my grandfather, my best friend, my cat; they all need me. To some degree, and I know they would be devastated if I died. Years ago I told a therapist I will live for the sake of my mother, but recently I’ve forgotten about that. Now I remember. I did not kill myself before because of her and I will continue not to for her. I will better myself, start doing proactive things for her. Even if we don’t always get along, even if I want to give up, I will keep myself alive for her.

There is a weight off of my shoulders now and I think, for the first time since November 2, I am going to sleep well. I heard a mourning dove earlier today too, and those birds have always reminded me of my grandmother. They woke me up every morning when I was a child and living with her, and she would always point them out with a gentle smile on her face. It was nice to hear it, to feel her in nature. I miss her, I miss her so much, but I should be lucky I got to spend 20 whole years with my grandmother, that I got to hear her stories and listen to her philosophies.

She taught me how to read, and color, and write; count, and sing, and dance. She was lovely- ignorant at times, and hated spending more than a dime, but boy was she lovely. A gorgeous German woman who lost her accent and her culture, who was so cold to strangers but so warm to her family. She loved music, grand orchestras and angelic choirs. Every time I stepped in the house, she was at her kitchen table, reading a massive book with round glasses on her face, and a smile on her face when she took me in. She was stylish, never left the house without heavy mascara and eyeliner and lipstick across her flawless face. She dyed her hair until the last moment, and even though she worked so hard on her beauty, she would brush off every compliment thrown her way. She was a second mother, someone who was there more often than my father. And you know, despite her age, I never saw her as fragile. She was strong. Refused a wheelchair, a cane and a walker, never asked for a helping hand, never wanted help. She lost a child, she was unhappy with her husband, but she never ever gave up. Until the end. And I miss her, I miss her so much it hurts to breathe some days, but I will never ever forget that strength, or those watery green eyes, or those unwavering hands that used to hold me in the air, or those glossed lips that kissed my cheeks, or that voice that never shook with age. The happiness that used to explode inside me whenever I saw her, and saw the joy on her face when she saw do something she found impressive.

The jokes we had, the memories we shared, they’re going to be with me until I die and instead of wishing for more, I am going cherish these. They’re going to stay inside of my heart, warm and bright and alive, until the end. I hope she’s happy, wherever she is, whether she’s in a different form or in another life, I hope she’s content this time around. And I really can’t wait to see her again.

[hysterialevi]

His Name Was Isaac - Ch. 14

Fanfic summary: During a mission to avenge his mother’s death, Isaac hunts down the men responsible for her murder and kills them off one-by-one, only to discover that his last target is taking refuge among the Van der Linde gang. In an attempt to kill them, Isaac attacks the gang and unknowingly becomes enemies with his own father, who is in the process of fighting his own battle for redemption.

Point of view: third-person

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This story is also on AO3

ONE WEEK LATER

BARROW LAGOON, AMBARINO

Steadily rowing the narrow boat back to shore, Isaac allowed himself to glide across the icy water as a series of ripples wobbled in the surface around him, causing broken plates of ice to shift to the sides.

He had just finished catching some fish in the snow-covered lake, and thanks to the peaceful nature of the wildlife in these parts, he also managed to pick a few herbs that might’ve helped with his father’s sickness. Isaac doubted they would do anything to cure him, but he just hoped they’d be able to tame his cough at the very least.

He had enough to worry about, after all. Between watching out for Pinkertons and looking after Arthur’s health, Isaac honestly didn’t care that much about reaching Canada for the time being.

Hell, he was willing to stay in The United States for another fifteen years if it meant his father could focus on recovering, but... knowing Arthur, Isaac doubted he’d able to convince the man to worry about his own well-being before his son’s.

That stubborn old man always seemed to attend to everyone else’s needs first. Isaac knew his father came from a place of compassion, but he just wished he could’ve done something to help him in return. A gun didn’t do much when it came to battling pestilence, and that was about the only thing Isaac knew how to use.

Part of him just wanted Arthur to return to civilization. He knew the man loathed being around places that were full of people, but they weren’t going to find a doctor anywhere else. 

Time was running out for the outlaw, and the last thing Isaac wanted was for that time to be wasted. He and Arthur may have argued sometimes, but the man was right about one thing. This was their only chance to make things right.

Letting the boat slide back onto dry land, the young man hopped out of his seat and lugged the sack of fish over his shoulder, slowly trudging through the crunchy snow as he made his way back to Arthur.

At the moment, the older man was looking after their horses just by the shoreline and had a fishing rod of his own cast in the lake, but it didn’t look like he had been able to catch much.

His nose was red from the cold, and judging by the pale tint of his skin and the dark circles surrounding his eyes, Isaac assumed his illness wasn’t getting any better.

He walked up to the man, trying his best to conceal the concerned expression on his face.

“Isaac,” Arthur greeted upon seeing the boy. “You’re back. Find anything?”

Isaac hurled the sack of fish onto the ground, showing him what he had caught.

“Got a couple of fish, but... it ain’t much. Hard to find any food in these parts.”

“Well, it’s still better than what I did. Good work, son.”

The boy strolled over to his horse, giving the animal a friendly pat on the neck.

“What ‘bout you, Dad? You have any luck?”

Arthur let out a chuckle, reeling the line in. “I’m afraid not. You know me, kiddo. I was never much of a fisherman. Though, I did manage to kill a rabbit earlier. Should keep us fed for a few days.”

Isaac grinned humorously. “Once we get to Canada, I’m never eatin’ fish or rabbit again. I’ve had enough of it for a lifetime.”

The other man returned the grin. “Try eatin’ it for thirty years. That was all our cook ever made for us. That, and venison. We rarely ate anything else. Just stew full of rabbit and deer bits.”

“And you wonder why everyone in your gang was always so cranky.”

Arthur paused for a moment, thinking back to his time with the gang. “...Hey, did I ever tell you about Hosea?”

Isaac shook his head. “No. Who is he?”

“Oh, he passed a few years ago,” he said regrettably, “but he and Dutch raised me together. They were practically brothers. Funnily enough though, Hosea was nothin’ like the old man. He was an outlaw same as the rest of us, but somehow, he always managed to be a gentleman about it. He was kind, but firm. Wild, but delicate.” 

A warm smile spread across Arthur’s face. “You remind me of him. I think Hosea would’ve liked you.”

“Yeah? You think so?”

“Sure. I imagine he’d wanna take you hunting or fishing. He always preferred the outdoors. Hell, he even took me to hunt a bear once.”

Isaac glanced at him incredulously. “Really?”

Arthur nodded. “Really. We dragged ourselves all the way from Valentine to the Grizzlies East just to find the damn thing.”

“Did you catch it?”

“Eventually. But it weren’t easy. The beast almost killed the old man. Luckily, I managed to shoo it away -- more by luck than anything -- and ended up huntin’ it on my own. Got me a pretty good sum. The trapper recognized the ugly bastard’s pelt the minute I dumped it in front of him.”

Isaac gave Arthur a playful smirk. “You ever gonna take me huntin’ for bear?”

The older man laughed. “Not a chance. You’d just scare it off.”

The two of them chortled at that and began packing their things up, preparing to continue their journey as the white sun inched across the sky. The weather was a little warmer today -- or at least warm by Ambarino’s standards -- and tiny droplets of water could be seen melting off of the numerous icicles hanging around the environment. Unfortunately for them though, the road ahead was still mostly obscured by thick layers of snow.

“Hey, Dad,” Isaac said, climbing on top of Aldo’s saddle. “I’ve been thinking...”

Arthur mounted his own horse, letting out a brief cough. “What’s on your mind, son?”

“Well,” the boy tapped his reins, riding alongside his father, “when all this is over -- if we actually manage to make it outta the country, that is -- I’ll have to find a new way to make a living. A new career. I can’t just be an outlaw forever.”

The older man let one of his arms dangle casually by his side. “No, I s’pose you can’t. You got any ideas on what you wanna do?”

Isaac nodded. “Yeah. I think... I think I wanna be a doctor.”

Admittedly, Arthur found himself surprised by the decision. He didn’t doubt his son’s capability, but the young man never really struck him as the medical type. He guessed his recent illness was impacting Isaac more than he realized.

“A doctor? You sure about that?”

“Maybe,” Isaac replied with a shrug. “I dunno. I just...” his eyes sank downward, “...I’m tired of hurtin’ people all the time. It’s all I seem to do. I feel like I can’t go one week without nearly killin’ somebody. I wanna start carin’ for people for a change. Save their lives instead of taking ‘em.”

Arthur smiled proudly. “That’s a real noble thing to do, Isaac. I think it’d be good for you. Heh. And you didn’t believe me when I said you wasn’t a killer.”

The boy’s mood didn’t seem to lift at the remark. “Maybe I ain’t a killer now, but I definitely was before I met you. If you had seen the way I killed Eli...”

The other man remembered the name. “Eli Whitley? He was one of Shay’s friends, wasn’t he? You never really told me what happened to him.”

“Yeah.” He confirmed. “Eli was there when mom died. I hated everyone in Shay’s gang with a passion after that, but Eli... I guess you could say he was the kindest in the group. He was the one who convinced everyone else to spare me when they woulda shot me. He’s the only reason Shay ever took me in.”

“But... that didn’t stop me from goin’ after him.” Isaac continued. “I cornered him outside of Rhodes just a few months before I got to Shay. Interrogated him at this abandoned barn. Didn’t let him die until he told me what I needed. He was probably the least deserving out of the entire gang, and yet... I killed him the slowest.”

Arthur sighed, speaking in a gentler tone. “...What’s wrong with you, Isaac?”

“I... I don’t know. But I wanna change. I don’t wanna be that kinda man anymore. That’s why I’m thinkin’ of being a doctor.”

The older man encouraged the idea. “Well, you’re a smart kid. And you’re still young. I think you could do it.”

“Well, it ain’t set in stone yet. It’s just a thought. For all I know, I could end up becoming a hillbilly granger somewhere. Spend all my days roastin’ under the sun. Scare away the occasional coyote. Yell at kids when they come wanderin’ too close to my property. Marry my cousin.”

Arthur chuckled. “Good to see your sense of humor ain’t run off. Maybe you could go into show business. Become a... performer or something.”

Isaac scoffed in an amused manner. “You really think I could be a performer?”

“Well... maybe not. But don’t limit yourself. Who knows? Maybe you’ll be in Broadway someday.”

The boy laughed. “I hope not. Have you met New Yorkers?”

Arthur nodded, thinking back to a certain stranger he met outside Strawberry. “Yes, actually. Yes, I have.”

He fell quiet for a second, suddenly remember something.

“Hey, Isaac. Before I forget, I just wanted to say, I’m--” a series of coughs interrupted him, “--I’m--”

Being cut off once again, Arthur brought a hand up to his mouth and did his best to overcome the sudden attack, only to feel his heart racing when he realized that it was getting worse.

His entire body shook in pain, and with every jagged cough that escaped him, the more he could feel his throat burning.

“Dad?” Isaac said in concern. “Are you okay?”

Arthur didn’t respond. Instead, he simply continued to cough into his hand, desperately trying to catch his breath. The edges of his vision were starting to grow fuzzy now, and despite his efforts to fight through it, Arthur’s strength began to drain from his body by the minute.

“...Isaac...” He wheezed, his voice raspy with irritation. “I...”

Without any warning, Arthur suddenly tilted off his saddle and collapsed to the ground, sending Isaac into a state of panic as he inspected his father’s unconscious body.

“Dad?!” He exclaimed, shaking the man by the shoulders. “Dad! Hey! Wake up!”

His voice began to echo in Arthur’s ears, fading along with everything else as the world turned black.

“...Wake up...!”

~~~~~~~~~~

A FEW HOURS LATER

NIGHTTIME

NEAR LAKE ISABELLA

Cold. Pain. Fear.

These were the only things Arthur could feel at the moment. The only things to greet him when he finally returned to consciousness.

The world around him was still dark, and without the sensation of a solid ground beneath him, he might’ve assumed he was dead.

As for his illness, Arthur could still feel it burning the insides of his chest. His throat was dry and sore, and due to the freezing wind embracing his body, it almost felt as if the breeze was carrying his life away with it.

But no... not yet. He couldn’t quit. He was still here. He was still alive. His body hadn’t given out just yet, and he still had to protect Isaac, no matter the cost.

He just didn’t know if he could anymore.

Waking up with a start, Arthur felt yet another chain of coughs rattle his chest as he forced his eyes open, sluggishly observing his new surroundings.

It looked like he had been moved to a shack somewhere in the middle of Ambarino’s mountains, and if it weren’t for the stiff bedroll lying underneath him, Arthur would’ve been sleeping directly on a fresh blanket of snow. 

There wasn’t much of a roof to shelter the shack’s interior from the weather outside, and with the sun now hiding behind the horizon, the night only seemed to grow colder.

Jesus Christ... what had he gotten himself into?

“Dad...?” A familiar voice whispered, drawing Arthur’s attention.

Slowly turning his head to the side, the older man spotted Isaac sitting in a corner of the shack with his rifle clutched tightly to his chest as he guarded his father, clearly anticipating some kind of threat.

His eyes were widened with anxiety, and the way he kept his voice low only heightened Arthur’s sense of fear.

What was going on?

“...Isaac,” Arthur said, barely able to speak at an audible volume. “Where... where are we...? What happened?”

“You had another coughin’ fit.” The boy explained. “You just... passed out. Right onto the road. You-- Jesus Christ, Dad... I thought you were dead. I tried to find you some shelter, but there ain’t much in these mountains. The best I could do was this rundown shack.”

Arthur tried to ease the young man’s nerves, not wanting to escalate things anymore. “It’s okay, Isaac. You did good. But... why d’you seem so afraid? What’s goin’ on?”

“I saw Dutch and his men on the way up here,” Isaac warned. “They were searchin’ the wilds. I think they’re looking for you. They didn’t seem to notice me, but... we have a trail leading directly to us. Dutch could be here at any minute.”

The older man cleared his throat, trying to ignore the pain. “...Shit. That man don’t give up easily. I’ll give him that.”

Isaac looked to his father for guidance. “So, what do we do? Should we just stay here for the night? Or keep moving? I mean, you’re in no condition to travel.”

“We need to get outta here.” Arthur concluded. “You said we have a trail leadin’ straight to us. If anyone finds that...” another cough escaped him.

The boy disagreed. “Don’t be ridiculous. You need to get some rest. Pushin’ yourself will only make things worse right now.”

“And if we stay, we risk Dutch findin’ us. Or even worse, the Pinkertons.”

“But you’re too weak!” Isaac argued. “And it’s the middle of the night. If we go back out there, we’ll freeze to death! It doesn’t--”

Interrupting the young man, an ominous thud suddenly emitted from the shack’s flimsy door, causing both of them to go silent.

Isaac instantly aimed his rifle at the entrance and cocked his weapon, standing directly in the middle of the shack due to a lack of cover.

There weren’t any voices talking at the moment, but underneath the loud howling of the wind and the creaking of wood, Isaac could hear a series of footsteps approaching them.

It sounded like they knew someone was inside based on the steady pace of their movements, and when Isaac glanced down at the crack underneath the door, he couldn’t help but notice an orange light seeping through the small gap.

Part of Isaac just wanted to shoot whoever was outside, but if it was Dutch like he suspected, then that meant his men must’ve been nearby. He couldn’t risk drawing their attention with any loud noises, and if a shootout were to ensue, there was no guarantee Arthur would be strong enough to fight through it.

He’d have to keep things quiet for now.

Swinging the door open with a light push, their unexpected visitor welcomed himself into the shack as a gust of wind breezed past him, chilling Arthur and Isaac to the bone.

The man was wrapped head-to-toe in winter clothing and had a revolver in one hand whilst holding a lantern with the other. His face didn’t strike Isaac as incredibly familiar, but upon seeing the pinned-up hat that he adorned, the boy instantly knew who it was.

“...Bill.” He murmured, watching the man’s every move. “You’re here.”

The other man’s eyes widened in recognition, causing him to raise his gun in alarm. “...Shit. So it really is you. I thought I saw someone out here.”

Isaac stepped protectively in front of Arthur, keeping his finger on the trigger.

“...What’re you doin’ here, Williamson?”

“What d’you think I’m doing? Lookin’ for your daddy, of course.” Bill’s gaze wandered over to Arthur, leading to a sudden shift in tone. “...What’s wrong with him?”

The boy tried to hide the fear in his voice. “He’s sick. With what, we don’t know. But... we think it’s the same thing Dutch has.”

Bill was quiet for a second.

“...Is he coughin’ a lot?”

“Yeah.”

“Is there blood?”

Isaac thought back to when Arthur passed out. “Sometimes.”

The other man sighed, his expression remaining flat. “Then it’s probably tuberculosis. At least, that’s what Dutch has, accordin’ to the doctor. He finally saw one the other day.”

The news hit Isaac like a bullet to the gut. He knew whatever Arthur had couldn’t be good, but he never expected it to be that bad.

“...Shit.” He cursed quietly. “That... explains a lot.”

Bringing his attention back to Bill, Isaac pushed his thoughts aside for the moment and strengthened his grip on the rifle, bracing himself for anything.

“Listen to me, Bill. I dunno what the hell Dutch wants, but you don’t have to do this. Just... walk away. Forget you ever saw us.”

The outlaw stood his ground. “And why should I? If I recall correctly, your daddy said he didn’t care about what happened to me the last time I saw him. So why should I care what happens to him now?”

“Because he’s my family. Wouldn’t you do the same for yours?”

Bill’s glowered at that. “I would, and I have. The gang was my family. I tried to help ‘em, but the only thing anyone ever did in return was ridicule me! Everyone always treated me like I was some... some idiot! A fool! A drunk! Dutch was the only one who ever treated me with respect. That’s why I gotta do this for him.”

Isaac felt a familiar sense of anger boiling inside him. “...You lay a single finger on my father, and I will kill you myself, Williamson.”

The veteran guffawed mockingly. “Oh, yeah, you’s real tough when you’re attackin’ our gang from the shadows. But you ain’t nothin’ compared to Dutch. And neither is your daddy. That man ain’t just strong. He’s caring. He’s the only reason our gang has survived for so long. He has something that the two of you never will. He has our loyalty.”

The boy almost laughed at the ludicrous statement. “Loyalty? Dutch doesn’t give a shit about you. Any of you. Look at how quickly he turned on my father. What makes you think you’re any different?”

Bill looked at him in bewilderment. “Dutch didn’t turn on your father. Arthur turned on him! Dutch... Dutch is a good man. He helps people. He helped me. When I was at my lowest point, he saved me while everyone else ignored me. He saw somethin’ special in me, and he gave me a new purpose in life. And I will never forget that.”

Isaac sighed in frustration. “You’re blinded by your loyalty, Bill. Dutch may have been a good man in the past, but he’s a tyrant now. A madman. Surely, even you can see that!”

The outlaw grumbled to himself, shaking his head in disagreement. “...You’re a real fool, Isaac. You know that? You kill a couple of our men, and suddenly, you think you’re an expert on our gang. You think you know a goddamn thing about us!”

“I know enough. I know that your gang is finished. I know that there’s no more trust between you. No more loyalty. You’re the only one in your gang who still believes in Dutch’s old rhetoric of a better world, and meanwhile, everyone else has given up on it. Hell, even Micah’s already betrayed you.”

Bill fell silent at that. “...What? What’re you talkin’ about?”

“How else do you think I was able to sneak into your camp?” Isaac pointed out. “How else could I have known about the bank robbery in Blackwater? Think about it, Bill. Your gang’s been fallin’ apart since before I even showed up. Only difference now is... there’s no chance of savin’ it.”

It was clear that the other man’s faith was crumbling at Isaac’s words, but he remained reluctant to admit it.

“No... no. That ain’t true! Dutch is special. He knows how to save people. He’ll get us outta this mess. He always does. And besides, I owe him everything after what he’s done for me. Without him, I’d be nothin’ but a big, dumb oaf. But Dutch... he’s a great man. And when I’m with him, I feel like I can be somebody.”

Isaac found himself at a loss for words, unsure of how he was going to convince Bill to walk away.

The last thing he wanted was to start a firefight in the middle of nowhere, but Bill was turning out to be far more obstinate than even Dutch himself.

The man seemed to idolize their gang’s leader. He still saw Dutch with the same image that he held eight years ago, and it looked like he wanted nothing more than to be like him.

But... there was more to Bill. Isaac could see it. Beneath all the anger and recklessness, the boy could sense that there was something pure at Williamson’s core.

It was clear that he still carried some wounds from the ridicule he endured in the past, but with enough encouragement, Isaac hoped he’d able to persuade Bill to overcome it.

If they were going to get out of Ambarino alive, they’d have to make sure that no one else found them. And right now, Bill was the only determining factor on whether or not that would happen.

Isaac didn’t want to take another life, but that sure as hell didn’t mean he wouldn’t.

“Y’know, Bill...” he said carefully, “I used to feel the same. Not too long ago, I used to believe that without my father, I’d be nothin’ more than a heartless killer. I saw him as somebody I wanted to be. Somebody who I needed to be. But you know what he told me?” 

Arthur perked his head up in interest, silently listening to Isaac from his bed as the boy spoke about him.

“He said that when all this is over, I ain’t gonna be like him. Or Dutch. Or Shay. Or even Micah. I’m gonna be my own man. A better man. And somethin’ tells me you can be, too.”

Bill softened his voice at the non-hostile approach, struggling to get his thoughts out. He hadn’t exactly reached a friendly disposition just yet, but his demeanor wasn’t nearly as aggressive as before.

“Them’s pretty words, Isaac...” he muttered quietly. “But how do I know you mean them? How do I know you ain’t just playin’ me for a fool like everyone else has?”

The young man clenched his jaw in nervousness, trying to steady his breath.

“...Because I’m tired of killin’ folk. I’m tired of always fearin’ for my life. If you lower your gun, I’m willin’ to lower mine.”

Bill glanced at Arthur. “And your daddy? He gonna let me go, too? Or is he gonna gimme the same treatment he gave Micah?”

“He ain’t gon’ do nothing. He doesn’t have the strength. Just walk out of here and pretend you never saw us. We’ll do the same.”

The outlaw hesitated for a minute, clearly torn by the dilemma. Despite his animosity towards Arthur, he seemed to have some sympathy for the man due to their history together. 

Their gang used to be like family after all, and as rotten as Williamson could’ve been sometimes, even he wasn’t so monstrous as to murder a boy and his dying father in cold blood. Not yet, anyway. 

A part of him actually believed what the young man said to him earlier, and if Isaac was telling the truth about Micah being a traitor, it was likely that the rat had spoken with the Pinkertons too. If that was the case, then their gang truly was finished.

Dutch may have been a fighter, but even he couldn’t work miracles. Bill would have to get out of this life as soon as possible if he wanted any hope of surviving, and perhaps this was his chance.

He finally lowered his gun, keeping an eye out for any sudden moves from the boy.

“...Goddammit, Isaac.” Bill muttered in annoyance. “Fine. I’ll let you go. This time.”

The young man slowly followed Bill’s actions, admittedly somewhat tentative to believe the outlaw.

“You will?”

“Yeah, but like I said, just this once. If Dutch or Micah find you again, I won’t be able to do anythin’ about that.”

Isaac felt a wave of relief wash over him, allowing him to relax a little.

“...Thank you, Bill.” He said sincerely. “You’re a good man. Or at least, a better man than you think.”

Bill didn’t crack his shell just yet, but Isaac could tell there was a sense of appreciation somewhere in him.

“Sure, Isaac.” He turned around and headed for the shack’s door, stopping in his tracks just before he left.

“Listen, there is somethin’ you should know. The truth is, Dutch doesn’t care about findin’ your father. It’s you he’s really after.”

Isaac raised a brow. “Why me?”

“Hell if I know. Dutch mostly shuts me out these days. Only Micah truly knows what he’s up to. Just... be careful around him. There’s no tellin’ what he has planned for the both of you. Especially after all the hell you’ve raised.”

The boy gave him a nod. “I’ll remember that. Oh, and Williamson?”

Bill looked over his shoulder. “What?”

“...Thank you again. I won’t forget this.”

The grumpy outlaw stepped back out into the snow, pulling his scarf over his nose as the night slowly came to an end.

“Don’t thank me yet.”

[corlds-world]

Top 10 Females from my Fandoms

This is all my opinion. It’s also from the fandoms I’m in (which are pretty popular). Your opinion of course will be different from mine. But I like sharing what I think and I like hearing your opinion, too. Also we’re doing ladies first because why not. Also I’m not good at explaining my opinion. So without further ado, here’s my top 10 females. Spoilers!

10. Meg (Supernatural) Meg is definitely my favorite female character from Supernatural. She’s a villain turned anti-hero. Also a demon. And being a recurring demon in Supernatural is a quick way to earn a spot in my favorite characters list. Apologies for Ruby for not making the cut though. Anyway, Meg is tough as hell (no pun intended). She starts by working for her dad, but that’s she’s not working for her dad because she’s a daddy’s girl. She works for her dad so she can get this apocalypse started. Her real loyalties lay with Lucifer. So when Lucifer was sent back to hell, she became a lone wolf. Season 6-8 Meg is my favorite, when she’s a lone wolf against Crowley. And I think the Winchesters have always been a little intimidated by Meg. Only 5′6″ to their 7′ but still has got fire. 

9. Carol Danvers / Captain Marvel (MCU) I couldn’t just leave out the first woman to ever get a solo movie in the MCU. It was a long time waiting, but we still got it. I was pondering for a while between Natasha and Carol. I decided to go with Carol really just because I’m so excited for Phase 4 of the MCU. I’m the kind of girl that looks ahead. Captain Marvel is for sure one of my favorite solo movies in the MCU. Carol was a air force pilot from the 90′s who was told all her life that she couldn’t become a pilot. Like you see in the trailer, she picks herself back up time after time. And then she loses her memory, but she doesn’t lose that fighting spirit. She just has superpowers from the space stone. She knows her rights and her wrongs better than most people. It’s what makes her an amazing superhero. And she literally destroyed a huge spaceship in Endgame. I can’t wait to see what Brie Larson has in store for us because she is not done for sure.

8. Luna Lovegood (Harry Potter) I know there’s a lot of controversy with the Harry Potter fandom right now, but I just can’t help but place Luna on this list. She’s an amazing character. As a fellow Ravenclaw, she really showed us what Ravenclaw was all about: wisdom and having an open mind. She knows her spells, too, and does her homework (I think). I think more people would expect Hermione on the list, but she didn’t resonate with me the way Luna did. She’s bullied for thinking differently, which really resonated with me. But she’s got her close friends and that’s all that really matters to her. She was the first character I saw myself in, even if she’s just thinks differently than I do.

7. Eleven (Stranger Things) I really did not want to put Eleven this low. But I really just couldn’t put her higher because the girls above her are just better. However, Eleven is awesome. Truly awesome. We gotta respect the only character in Stranger Things that has superpowers. Nothing holds Eleven down. She escapes from a crazy laboratory and finds her new friends who she will literally do anything to protect. And she was messed up in that lab. But she still knows good from evil. She knew that her friends were not going to screw her over. And when she thought they were going to screw her, she kinda just said no. Like okay. She’s brave and kind and badass and everything I want in a superhero. I she’s a little intimidated by the world around her, but I would have run right back to what I knew if I were her. I think her bravery really shone in the third season. I’m sad about what’s happening to her powers, but I think they’ll find a way to get them back. Even if they don’t, I think Eleven will still prove to be everything she is without them. And just look at her. She’s just so cute. 

6. Hazel Levesque (Riordanverse) I told you this was my list and I think Hazel deserves a spot. I mean, the youngest person on the Argo II, daughter of Pluto, can control the Mist and all the jewels in the earth, and tamed an untameable immortal horse. What more do you want? Yes, yes. I love Annabeth, but I really resonated with Hazel more, mostly because she just seems sweeter than Annabeth. I’m a sweet and shy person. And I love horses. And the 40′s. Speaking of which, a POC in the 40′s in Louisiana? If I ever make a top 10 POC characters, we’ll brush up on that. Anyway, let’s talk about when she died. Did I mention she died? She gave up an eternity of happiness so her mother (who was not good to Hazel) wouldn’t have an eternity of misery. Gotta thank Nico, though, for bringing one of my faves back to life. But when Nico was in trouble, there was nothing that Hazel wouldn’t do to help her brother. And when Hazel learned how to control the Mist in couple of weeks? What a display of power. She’s had a hard life, but she’s come out stronger because of it. 

5. Katniss Everdeen (Hunger Games) What? Why is Katniss so low? Mostly because it’s been a while since I’ve read the Hunger Games. I never even finished it. I stopped halfway through Mockingjay. I really like Katniss, though. She’s never had a lot. Let’s just start with the obvious that she takes on the Capital. Like you’re taking on the government? Okay go off. Of course, it’s not for no reason. They’re slaughtering everyone. But let’s just talk about when she’s in the Hunger Games the first time. I don’t think I could start to go into detail about everything that Katniss has done. She’s a badass in summary. She took on people that train for the event. She dropped a... what are they called? *googles hunger games bees* Tracker jackers! She dropped a nest full of tracker jackers on to those stuck-up kids. And Rue. Rue helped. Rue’s the best. She’s not on the list, but still. I love Rue and Katniss’ friendship, even if didn’t last. I’m sorry Rue you had to die if Katniss was to win. Anyway, Peeta got her in sort of a weird romance, but I think Katniss saved Peeta more times than Peeta saved Katniss. I love gender role reversals. Also I’m such a sucker for girls who can shoot a bow.  So, yeah, Katniss gets her spot which is very well earned. 

4. Vanya Hargreeves (The Umbrella Academy) The second season recently came out so she’s fresh in my mind. The most powerful sibling in the Academy uses sound to harness energy. And does she do it in style. Yeah, she kind of causes the apocalypse, but that’s not her fault. It’s Luther’s. And Reginald's. Vanya had a rough childhood. She was told all her life that she was ordinary in a house where there where only the extraordinary.  But she powered through it. And wrote a book as revenge. Like Five said, that took guts. She’s such a complicated character. She’s shy and kind. But don’t make her mad. She might stab you. I really couldn’t believe how hard I cheered when she killed Harold. Like it was bad. Also she blew up the moon. Do you want more? She’s dating a farm frau. If I ever make a top 10 canon couples, that’s going on the list. You know, if you can’t go straight, go gay. Also she’s a human bomb. I’m a sucker for human bombs. And memes. 

3. Morgana Pendragon (Merlin) I really love good girls turned bad. I was a little worried that Morgana was just going to be Merlin’s love interest in season 1. But man was I wrong. Going from a ward with bad dreams to a witch determined to be queen. I was actually kind of rooting for her. But that just could be because Katie is a phenomenal actress. But anyway, Morgana really has issues, which is why she’s top 3. Also the fact that she didn’t have a girlfriend, so disappointing. But she’s a villain, and villains don’t have lovers. Or they’re not supposed to in my book. Also she can go toe to toe with Merlin, who is supposed to be one of the best sorcerers of all time. What a show of power. 

2. Regina Mills (Once Upon a Time) My favorite redemption arc. From good to evil and back to good. Honestly one of my favorite characters to watch. And Lana just does such a good job with it. Do you see the trend that I have with my favorite characters? Tragic background is the base requirement. Magical badass gives you an improvement in the list. But Regina has had a horrible life. The fact that she is classified as a villain is heartbreaking sometimes. But she did kill a ton of people so she’s definitely a villain in the storybooks. And that sass. Only Regina could pull off that sass. But I think the fact that she tries to be good when it is not in her nature, I think that speaks volumes. 

1. Kara Danvers / Supergirl (Supergirl) I feel like people just got thrown for a loop. It’s like wait a minute. Didn’t you just say that your favorite kind of character is a “magical badass with a tragic background?” Um maybe. But Kara has her own tragedies. She just doesn’t show it. She lost her parents when she was 12. Not just her parents, but almost her whole family and all of her home. But she learned to have a new home on Earth. But she manages to figure out how to save the world with all of these conflicts in her life. Shoutout to Alex for being an awesome sister. And she has a great social life, something I aspire to have. I’m so upset that the show is ending after season 6. I love Kara so much. Kara is the most amazing woman in the Arrowverse so I’m so sorry to see her go. 

[sinningismywinning]

Do As You Please - 3

   You’ve needed to change the locks on your bedroom door for awhile now. Hearing your door creak open, shot your eyes wide. For a moment you were dazed, you forgot about the night before. Yet it all came flooding back as you peaked towards your door. The blood flowing in your head came back as well, but this time with a vengeance. Your temples started to pound.

   “Get the fuck up!” Your brother had such a way with words. Alfie was your step-brother, turned full. Your mother was absent in your life. Your father held back on speaking about her, and the only good things he’d say was that you held her beauty, and her heart.

   Alfie had been in your life since you were 6, and he was 12. His father was an adulterer and abandoned his family at a young age. Luckily, your father stepped in to fill the role. Growing up you would always ask what the difference was between a step sibling, and a full one. Your father would condescendingly say, “A step sibling can’t take your assets.” Smart-ass. That explains how you turned out. 

   When Alfie’s mother died of the flu, your father fully took him in. Helped him open up his own bakery in-fact. That was the start of his demise into organized crime. You tried your hardest to stay out of it, and to not dabble with his empire. He was always one of your strongest support systems.

   Once you both became adults, and he clearly had enough money for himself, your paths had split. But more recent than not, Alfie popped back up. He needed a place to stay. Margate was no longer safe for him. It took you a while to let him stay with you. He knew better than to go to you, if he figured it weren’t safe. You shared a different last name, and he never mentioned you, or any family, to his associates. Not to mention, he was Jewish, and you tried to act as Catholic as you could. People didn’t take too kindly to atheists. It meant that those without faith, had nothing to fear.

      It was hard to grow accustomed to living with your brother again. You had forgotten how messy he was, as well as the lack of care he had for himself. Since he couldn’t leave the house, he was always eager for you to come home. He would get antsy being locked inside all day. 

    “You’re gonna be late for work!” He always came into your room unannounced. “Get the fuck up!” He repeated, hitting your bed with his cane. You groaned with annoyance. He was also a fantastic alarm clock. “I’m getting up you bloke.” You grumbled.

   “Who brought you home last night?” Most people found it hard to understand him. His voice was heavy and his accent was thicker than others. You knew that it would be best to not lie to him. If you said that you walked home by yourself, he’d restrict you going out. Despite living in your house, he whipped your ass back into shape.

   “A friend from the bar,” you got out of bed and rubbed your eyes. “Obviously it was a fuckin’ friend, otherwise why’d they walk you home? I asked about WHO, walked you home.” You could feel your eyes roll out of your head. You turned from him, and grabbed a dress from your closet. “Didn’t catch his name,” you sighed with pursed lips. If there was one thing Alfie wasn’t good at, it was catching you in a lie. No one could.

   You felt his eyes burning a hole through your back. “Yeah.. right,” He shook his head, not quite sure how to feel about a man walking you home. “I made you a cup, it’s in the kitchen.” You could tell which child was raised by a mom, and which was raised by a single dad. Alfie had a very domestic personality, despite never admitting it. “Thank you,” Surprisingly enough, he didn’t question you further. You knew that would change when you came home from work.

   He would sit in the house and stew over small, minuscule things. He’d send himself into a rage, a panic, or even a frenzy. He was manic at times. He left your room, and closed the door behind him. You paced your thoughts, but only momentarily. ‘Who really walked me home?’ You didn’t know much about Thomas Shelby. You found yourself beguiled. It was what it was. The man was an enigma. You supposed that your curiosity would stay as such. A curiosity.

   You changed, and readied yourself for the day. You rolled up the sleeves of your white blouse, and put on your skirt. You weren’t particular for putting effort into work-clothes. 

   Walking out of your room and into the small, dainty kitchen, Alfie sat reading a daily-paper. You picked up your coffee, knowing that you wouldn’t have time to drink it on the way to work. “Doesn’t sit well with me, that a stranger took you home,” he mumbled, glancing up at you through his glasses. Your eyes met his and all you could do was shrug. You figured that it would be best to simply dismiss him. “Need anything from the market today?” You already knew what he needed. Psoriasis cream. You’d be getting it anyways, but it didn’t hurt to ask.

   “Just uh...” he huffed into thought. “My medicine, and yeast for bread. I’ll make dinner tonight.” A small smile made its way onto your face. Despite your bickering, and petty remarks, you loved Alfie. That went without saying.

   You also knew he would kill for you. “I’ll be home some time after twelve, yeah?” You said quickly rinsing your cup. He hummed in response, not looking away from the paper. 

   “Bye old-man,” you beckoned, and kissed the side of his head. “Bye wench,” was the last remark you heard before leaving your home. He worried about you, he did. But he knew you were able to hold your own. Knowing that you carried a knife whenever you went out, eased his mind. Only thing was, he wasn’t sure if you’d be man enough to stab someone.

   The walk to work was short. Traffic on the streets was little to none. Some days you’d have moments of quietness, as the drunkards slept in. Small Heath was a dainty little town, but damn, could it get loud if it wanted to.

   You were on time for work. You clocked yourself in, and went over to your station. Being a seamstress came easy. It gave you something to do, and you were able to perfect making your own clothes. In fact, one time you down-sized a pair of Alfies pants in order to fit you. After all, it wasn’t comfortable tending to a garden in layers of thick skirt fabric.

   You kept to yourself, offering polite conversation when others sought it out. Most of the people who came into the shop were down-right snobby. Boasting about wanting dresses made from the silk of a worm, and others demanding a suit to be tailored with only the finest suede. 

   It wasn’t lady-like to be rude, and it wasn’t professional to insult customers. So everyday, through a forced smile, you tried your hardest to not be unkind. Just like clock-work, there she was again. Right over your shoulder like last time. You were sewing beads onto the dress, of a derby-owners wife. 

   Your head seamstress had never taken a liking to you. It wasn’t like you couldn’t say the same. You were talented at the craft, but did things the unconventional way. She was more of a, by-the-book, type of woman.

   Jeanne Tousaint was a powerhouse of a seamstress. Her reputation reached far and wide. When the shop wasn’t doing so good, the owners cut everyone’s pay in order to afford her services. It was suppose to be a temporary workshop. Sadly, she’s still here.

   “Get the seam-ripper, your bead wasn’t on par with the others,” She spoke above you. “It is on par,” was all you could mumble back, refusing to look up from the dress. “I beg your pardon?” Then beg. “When she wears the dress, it’ll fall in place with the others. Look,” you said holding up the fabric as the beads flowed down in unison. 

   She ignored your correction. “Speak to me with a tone like that again, and I’ll dock your pay,” You were growing tired. She had only been put in-charge of you for three months, yet acted as if she’d birthed you. “You’ve already docked my pay,” You reminded with a false smile. 

   Before she could belittle you once more, the bell that hung on the door chimed. Thank god. While this job brought you decent pay, you also knew Alfie was a cheap bastard who hoarded his money. The only reason you haven’t fully gotten yourself fired was because you knew he’d eternally give you shit for it.

   She walked away to kindly greet a group of men. You didn’t care to look up from your post. The pro’s and con’s of having your job terminated, were being evaluated in your head. The pro is, happiness. The con is, Alfie kicking your ass and being stingy with his money to the point where- “Excuse me miss,” you looked up at an unfamiliar face.

   “Was wonderin’ if you could take up my measurements,” A man with a plain face said through a slick smile. His hands were jammed into his pockets, and he was wearing a god-awful cap. Tacky.

   Now what you wanted to say was, ‘Can’t you see I’m busy? There are other workers who can measure you.’ But what actually came out was a hesitated “Of course sir,” followed by yet another, false perception of happiness.

   Standing up from your station, you noticed a man at the front of the shop. His back was turned towards you, as he looked through the window. You had to look again. You knew him for some odd reason. He turned from the window, to face you. That’s when it clicked. Arthur Shelby.

   You must have had a bewildered look on your face. “Cat got your tongue, love?” The man spoke out. “That’s enough John,” Tom said walking up behind him. 

                                                         Fuck.

   “I believe you owe me a tailored shirt,” Thomas said stepping to the side of his brother. Being sober, he was more attractive than what you had remembered. What a sly dog. He set this up. You told him where you worked, and he popped in to see you.

   You were a bit puzzled by his appearance. “This is the one who spilled the drink?” John eyed you up and down. If you weren’t at work you’d tell him to keep his eyes in his head. “Aye,” Tom responded. They both kept their gaze on you. Who the fuck was this? A best-friend? God, if you were going to get fired, it’d be on your own terms. 

   The head seamstress was more than happy to have the boys in the shop. “Anything you need, on the house,” you heard her boast to Arthur. The prime fucking minister would never get anything free from this woman. What made them so special?

   Clearing your throat, you managed to speak. “I’ll be more than happy to tailor a shirt for you, I just have to take your friends measurements,” You nodded politely.

“My brothers measurements, and he can wait.” Dear god there’s more than two.

   His voice had an edge to it. You didn’t know if it was his demeanor, or his eyes that made you intimidated.   

   “Uh yes, pardon my mistake.” You always had to be kind. “Look at you, being a doll, aye?” He tilted his chin up with amusement. You bit your tongue to stop yourself from firing back. John picked up on the exchange, and clasped his brothers shoulder. He whispered something unintelligible into his ear, before walking off to join with Arthur.

   This whole exchange made you more than uncomfortable. “And look at you, showing up to my job,” you said narrowly shaking your head. You grabbed a chart from your desk, as well as a tape measure. That almost-missed smile graced his lips again.

   There was something dark to him, and you weren’t sure if you wanted to find out. “Doesn’t hurt to pay a visit,” he redeemed. “It is a bit odd though,” you shot back. There was that spark that made him show up for more. He loved banter. You made your way towards one of the fitting rooms, and suggested with your head, for him to follow.

   “Stand up here,” you gestured to a small lift in the floor. Your hands were unsteady as you unrolled your measuring tape. He picked up on it and eyed your nimble hands. He was reading you like a book. Pages open, and bare.

  “You look beautiful in blue,” He knew how to charm a woman. Only problem was, you didn’t act like a conventional woman. As much as you hated to admit, your nerves spiked a bit. You noticed your hands slightly trembling. “That’s what they tell me,” you said dismissing his efforts.

   Alfie would calm your anxieties better than anyone. Small inconveniences would make you shake, send you into a panic. For someone who was so head strong and exuberant, most things made you nervous. You had been that way for as long as you could remember.

   But the presence of a man was a new trigger. One you didn’t know that you had. 

   The side of his lip curled. His eyes were never expressive. “As they should.” He spoke back with a calming smile. “I do have to warn you, I’ll be in your personal space,” you disclaimed. 

   “I was hoping for that.” Fuck. Calm down.

   You shook your head trying to play it off as meaningless banter. He was only running his mouth. He couldn’t have viewed you that way, right? “Arms up, please,” you gently commanded. He obliged.

   He stared straight ahead at the green wallpaper of the fitting room. His eyes being on something other than you, eased your tension. You started measuring his arms, starting from his inner bicep, to his wrist. You avoided his eyes.

   You moved to his center, and held up the measuring tape, inferring that you had to measure his chest. “May I?” You always had to ask as policy.

   “I don’t bite,” his eyes met yours and he looked away once more. You huffed through your nose and got closer to wrap the tape around his mid-section. He was toned. Smelled like cigarettes and pine. You were so occupied with his larger frame, his words cut like glass. “Unless you want me to.”

   You looked up at him, his arms were still out and extended. He was much taller than you, but then again, you weren’t average for your height. His eyes met yours and you felt your hands threatening to shake again.

   He maintained the eye-contact. “Are you done with my measurements?” His voice was lower than usual. He glanced down to your lips. You only stood a few inches apart. “Uh, hm-” You cleared your throat, “Just about, Mr. Shelby.” you nodded taking a step back.

   He made you nervous and he was seeing that now. He watched you pick up your chart, and write his numbers down. “Tommy, call me Tommy.” He corrected. Once again, you nodded, looking at anything but him. 

   Your fingers gave away your inner panic, as you didn’t know how to assess the situation. He understood what anxiety was like. He dealt with it every night before bed, and often during sleep. That’s what caused the man to drink. After France, he turned to alcohol and hallucinogens. 

   “I don’t intend on making you nervous.” Did he really call out to you like that? “Sorry, it’s not you.” Yes it was. “I just shake sometimes. Doctors can’t figure it out,” you laughed besides yourself with nerves.

   He licked his lips, about to speak. He decided it best to refrain from it. He didn’t think you got much attention from men. Possibly a few boyfriends who reminded you of your beauty and wittiness, but afterwards probably made you think that you weren’t anything special. His own thoughts made him momentarily frown.

   “You can step down now,” you nodded. He did as ordered. “Say, since my pub is so scummy, and I know you’re a hard-ass,” wow. What a charmer he was. “How about you come work for me?” You didn’t expect that. “That’s very kind of you, but I-” “I’ll pay you more than what you make in this sweatshop.” His gruffness cut you off.

   He definitely had taken a liking to you. Despite his taunting, seeing your hands shake made him feel something more for you. Sympathy. You didn’t live on the nicest side of town, and you seemed too wound-up all the time.

   His offer was deadly serious. He shifted from your eyes, as if searching for a possible yes or no from you. You opened your mouth to speak, and nothing came out

   “The bar needs a woman’s-touch. Make it more homely,” He hummed in explanation. You pursed your lips at his remark. If he wanted to make something homely, the job should go to Afie, not you.

   You didn’t give it much thought. Jeannes words of your worthlessness rattled between your ears. You also thought back to your previous exchange. “Alright,” you said putting down your chart. “I’ll work for you.” He even seemed surprised. “When would I start? I have to put my notice in first,” you hesitated.

   “No you don’t,” he spoke gruffly. He put a hand on the small of your back and escorted you out of the fitting room. He had his other hand in his coat pocket. “You can start today,” he smiled boyishly. “But I have to quit first-” He was already handling that.

   It became clear to you, that he didn’t care about getting a new shirt. He cared about getting you.

   You both had walked out from the back of the shop. What were you doing? You didn’t know this man, or his reliability. Your mind was all over the place and you couldn’t help your timid hesitation. He walked up to your head seamstress.

   “Y/N’s done. Can’t have her working here anymore,” he explained hastily. You looked over to Arthur, who was shoving display ties into his coat pockets.

   “What do you mean she’s done?” Tommy went to explain why you’d no longer be working there, but you beat him to it. “It means, you can’t insult and belittle me anymore.” You chimed in. You felt the tightness of confrontation in your chest.

   He looked at you, trying to conceal his amusement and praise at your words. The head seamstress couldn’t help but gasp at your foul-mouth. You took out your punch card from the wall, and promptly flipped her off. Your adrenaline was surging. You knew that if you didn’t walk out, you’d end up lunging.

   John raised his brows. He barely knew you, but the shoe was starting to fit from the depictions Thomas and Arthur gave of you. Arthur decided it best to promptly push you out of the front door to exit. Thomas followed after, but the door closed slowly enough for you to hear John mutter, “by order of the Peaky Blinders,” to end her refusal of your termination.

   The moment you stepped onto the street, you could feel the cold wind dust your cheeks. Peaky Blinders? You figured it best to not question it. Your conscience bounced. What was your back-up plan? How would you get home to Alfie on time. You still had to go to the market.

   Thomas saw the expression on your face. He knew you were questioning it all. He wasn’t one to comfort anybody. “Did the right thing,” he said reassuringly. He placed a cigarette between his teeth. He was trying to not sound condescending.

   You looked at him in a way that could make him melt. He saw the expression on your face. He felt a knot in his throat, but choked it down with cigarette smoke. He didn’t like to make others worry. “I can force her to give you your job back,” He offered. John and Arthur walked alongside the both of you.

   “No.. I need this, it’ll be good for me.” Work at a pub? You didn’t know the first thing of being a tender. He had to of known that as well. You had time to learn, and there was always room for improvement. You forced yourself to think positively, even though you weren’t convinced of your own inhibitions.

   He inhaled, feeling the smoke warm his chest. There was a buzz in his head. A slight high from the nicotine. But possibly from the acknowledgement of him pulling this off. He didn’t think it through, which is why he was amazed it worked.

   Maybe you really were as wild as what he first presumed. “It’s a new beginning Y/N,” He spoke gently. “They usually come when you least expect it.”

   Now you really had to tell Alfie about the man who walked you home last night. 

    @captivatedbycillianmurphy @amirahiddleston @urbansaint @parochialism @mortalflower

[webarebares]

Queen of Arms Chapter 1

I decided to post my Zelink fic here because I’m lonely on Ao3. Here’s the link to it there and it’ll be cut down below :) It deals a lot of with healing and repressed feelings and also they’re kind of exes that weren’t exes.

Summary:  With Link barely remembering her, and Zelda still living in parts of the past, it's hard for them to know how to interact with each other. As Link starts regaining pieces back, Zelda and him have to figure out how to process everything that they have gone through to be able to regain what they once had. That is, if Link wants to.

-

It ached. Deep inside the cavities of her chest danced fire that would never be put out. The castle she once lived in was still full of malice and all the bricks were loose, easily ready to fall in one quake. Almost every single person she grew up loving was gone forever, and even if it had not taken 100 hundred years to return, the initial explosion of The Calamity could’ve never brought them back.

Zelda clipped back her long hair to keep it out of her face as she read behind the Goddess Statue in Karakiko Village. She hid there, reading on the floor to stay away from people for a while. Important Hyrule officials had all flooded the village the weeks before to start the process of reconstruction and find the way to fund everything. The most civilization they had standing was the stable association and the few towns. After barely surviving Ganon, she was still queen at seventeen. She was going to have to fight her whole life.

People were leaving at that moment and would gather back there in a month to finalize everything, but she didn’t want to say goodbye to every single person. She only said bye to Lady Riju who she formed a good friendship within a short amount of time. Riju helped Zelda sneak out of meetings when they had gone on for too long, and they would talk about Urbosa over sweets the children in the village would make them. They would all go around taking pictures near the Great Fairy Fountain on the Shiekah slate Link returned to her.

Link was off doing a secret mission for Impa that she wasn’t told about until he was gone. Right before the Calamity, her and Link were close friends and although he didn’t say much, he would tell her everything. She remembered every sensation of trust and admiration she had towards him along with… other things.

But now, it was hard to have good conversations with him. They were rare and Zelda would think about every word that left his lips like she could lose him again tomorrow. Zelda knew Link before The Calamity, but the Link that she briefly traveled with before settling in Karakiko? He was just a person she once met in a dream.

Link remembered next to nothing, still. He didn’t ask her a lot about before The Calamity and Zelda didn’t push to teach him. If she had the chance to forget the love for the people she couldn’t save, she probably would take it. It’d make living in this new lifetime more bearable.

Link would remember some things here and there. He recently remembered his father and some memories of them together at the outposts before he died. He said he heard his dad’s voice tell him he was proud of him. It was one of the few things he did ask Zelda about the past- how did his father die?

She wondered if he felt like he was getting the news for the first time again when she was telling him. If he remembered all the love his had for his father even if he hadn’t remembered his face or name just hours before.  Zelda remembered all the love she had for her dad the minute she was whole again and searched for it at the top of the Temple of Time with Link guarding her every step on the ripped up roof. All that was there was wind and the distant bones of Hyrule Castle.

Unable to focus on the book she was reading, she closed it and started drawing in the dirt. She wrote out her name.

ZELDA

She hesitated before she stared writing again.

L

“Queen Zelda,” someone called out. She immediately kicked away the writing her foot, awkwardly standing up. She walked to the other side of the Goddess statue and saw Paya standing with her head bowed. “So sorry to interrupt you,” she said quietly. Zelda didn’t know why Paya was intimidated by her, but she had an inkling it had to do with Impa’s abrasive attitude. “I was told I could find you here.”

“You’re fine, Paya,” Zelda replied with a smile she couldn’t see. “Am I needed?”

“My grandmother wanted me to tell, to tell you that everyone has left. You can come back now,” she bowed once again and ran off in a direction that wasn’t the house where they were both staying. Zelda got her book from the ground and made her way back to Impa’s house. She wouldn’t call Paya out for her for nothing but also, she would.

She closed the door behind her, Impa in her usual seat. Her eyes were closed, but she spoke, “I don’t mean to intrude my queen-,”

Zelda cut her off, “Call me Zelda. Please. We’ve been friends for over 100 years now.” Impa had a small smile on her face, most likely throwing her off from what she was going to say.

She licked her lips, seeming to try to recollect herself. “It seems you’ve gained yourself sense of humor while you were off in the Spirit Realm”

“I had time to think of everything I’d tell everyone when I first saw them.” Link was the only one left to check off.

“As I was saying,” Impa continued, “you have the respect of everyone. You cannot afford to lose it when your kingdom is so fragile. You can’t seem uninterested in the affairs of the people, or the people will lose hope. Nobody will steal the throne from you, but it’ll be harder to govern if you’re not the face everyone sees leading these choices.” Zelda felt like she was getting scolded by her father, the same buzz of shame vibrating through her core. Only difference was that Impa knew. Her father just guessed.

“I wish someone would try to take the throne from me,” Zelda sighed, looking down at the floor.

“You still have fight left in you?”

“No.” Zelda shook her head, looking back at her old friend. “I’d let them keep it.”

“You’re not an heir to nothing, you know that, right?” Impa asked her for the third time since Ganon was taken down. Zelda thought about Riju and all the little kids in Karakiko village who had lived their whole lives watching darkness radiate from Hyrule Castle until her and Link locked it away.

“I’m starting to believe it.”

Link got to Karakiko a few days after the higher ups left. The last time she spent a lot of time with him was when they went to Zora’s Domain to investigate Vah Ruta. They didn’t find any clues before Zelda had to come back to Karakiko to attend meetings. Even then, most of the talking was done by Zelda and pointing out things she saw when she was fighting Ganon. There wasn’t a lot to talk about with strangers.

She saw him early in the morning after leaving the bedroom she shared with Paya. Her hair was in a messy braid and she rushed to let it loose. “Good morning, Link,” she told him. He bowed from where he stood at the wall, and it made her think of when he was her royal guard. He still wore it often even if there wasn’t a team to match with.

Zelda looked around the room but saw that Impa wasn’t in her usual spot and at that time in the morning, Paya would be off cleaning outside. “Do you know where Impa is?” Link asked her. Her head quickly snapped to look at him.

“I’m not sure,” Zelda looked around as if Impa would be hidden in a small corner of the room. “I’m sorry I can’t help you.”

“Don’t apologize,” he said. He went back to resting on the wall. “I’ll just wait here.” She felt awkward sometimes being in Impa’s house and doing things without explicitly asking, but she was sure she wouldn’t mind.

“Do you want to come into the kitchen and have breakfast with me?” she asked with her hair out of its braid. “There’s seafood fried rice left over from yesterday.” He looked at her for a moment, his mouth slanted as he thought. “There’s no need for modesty. I know you have quite an appetite. You might not remember, but we were really good friends once.” It stung to say that. Link just gave her a small smile and nodded before following her into the kitchen that was hidden behind sliding screen doors.

Zelda started a fire under the pot to warm the food up and gestured for Link to take a seat on one of the floor pillows. He did it without question which surprised her because he seemed to tiptoe around her. She got another pot to brew tea. One thing she liked about present time is that she got to do things for herself. Usually, she would get interrupted by a maid to let them do any little thing for her and she felt strange saying no. But now, the most someone would ask to do something for her was when Paya asked her if she needed help, and if she said no, Paya didn’t push it. She wondered sometimes if Paya knew how much she appreciated her.

Zelda sat diagonal from Link to wait until one of the things boiled. She purposely avoided sitting across from him because she wouldn’t be able to help stare. That’s most of what she did as they made their way to Zora’s Domain. Spiritually, she had been close to him for the year it took for him to get to her. That was never enough. Now, he was right in front of her and she could reach out and touch his face with consequences.

“How were the meetings?” Link asked, tapping his fingers on the lowered table. A spark of excitement flashed through her chest.

“Drawn out and boring. I snuck out a few times with Riju I must admit,” she said with a coy smile. Link looked at her with a raised brow. She wondered if he just remembered the parts of her that were all business which is why this confused him. “Impa was a little upset with me, but I’ll make up for it later. Everything is still,” she stopped talking. She didn’t know how to describe everything.

“Too much?” Link tried to finish.

Zelda nodded. “Yes. Too much.” Even then, too much wasn’t enough to describe all the feelings in her body.

“You were excited to start reconstruction,” Link reminded her. She was. The minute she could breathe in the Hyrule air and hold petals in her hand, she knew she was back where she belonged. It was her job and duty to nurture and love her kingdom.

But it got hard. Quick.

Not even a month went by before the reality of everything started to slow her down and now, she could barely lift a finger to do anything. The idea of being queen and bringing Hyrule to glory under her leadership slowly formed itself into a constant reminder that she was queen because her father was dead. There wouldn’t have been a need for reconstruction if she had unlocked her powers sooner. If she had admitted things to herself sooner so many people could’ve lived much longer than what they did.

Zelda looked at Link’s face while his eyes were drawn down to his hands. He had a new scratch on his cheek. It wasn’t deep, and it had scabbed up already in a thin line. Zelda said, “I think I was just a lot more joyful when we first won and now I see the cost of a delayed victory. So many people died.” Zelda sighed as she thought of the census they delivered to her at one of the meetings. “Hyrule has such a low population I could invite everyone to live at the castle once we figure out how to get rid of the malice.” Link smiled like he did a hundred years ago when they’d joke around. It brought so much comfort to her that she didn’t want to take her eyes off of it, even when he caught her looking.

“Maybe start off with Castle Town.”

Impa returned soaked in water. Link and Zelda were in the main area of the house talking when she walked in. Paya was frantically rushing to get her to her room to change, but Impa scowled at her. “Paya, let me greet Link first.” Impa slowly walked to the middle of the room where Link stood, and he seemed amused with the situation. “Good to see that you’re back. Let me get settled and we’ll have a private talk in the kitchen over tea.” Link who unknowingly to Impa just drank two cups, simply nodded. Impa and Paya headed into one of the rooms, Zelda looking at Link who was now stretching.

Zelda couldn’t help but ask, “Is this about your secret mission.” Link let out quick chuckle.

“I guess you can say that,” he said. His mouth fell open in a quick moment of remembrance as he a muttered a quick oh and started to search through his bag. He pulled out a familiar red book and handed it to Zelda, “This is yours.” Zelda stared between the fragile book spine and Link’s eyes. Zelda then took it and opened it to the first page to confirm what it was.

“How?” she asked in awe. “After all these years?” Link didn’t say anything, but he seemed glad to have brought it back to her. Zelda started to flip through many pages at once, recognizing her handwriting that differed depending on her anxiousness or excitement of the peculiar days. It was more than half empty as she just started it a year or so before the calamity hit.

There was one page she had to stop to look at. In the corner of a page, she had drawn an all-too-familiar sword next to a Silent Princess flower, the letter L written in cursive in different sizes all over it. It was one of the last times she had written. She quickly shut it, her cheeks warm. “Did you read it?” she asked, refusing to look at him. There was a silence and then there was Impa loudly making her way into the main room.

“Off to the kitchen with you, boy,” she said, pushing Link away from her.