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bowlegsandbiceps · 3 years

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Suptober Day 7: Young at Heart

i carry your heart (i carry it in my heart)

Teen / Death!Dean & Human!Cas / Destiel / 5,073 words

Read on AO3

Suptober Masterlist (A03)

It was a snowy evening in the heart of winter when Death roamed the streets of Chicago. You wouldn’t have known him from any other young man, bundled as he was in a worn leather jacket, jeans and boots but there was a certain static about him that made other pedestrians give him a wide berth. He was headed to the fire station on the corner of Hope and Clairmont, humming a Billy Joel song as he avoided slush piles and other humans alike.

He posted up against a telephone pole, making sure to breathe so any passers-by would note the cloud of air passing his lips on every exhale and assure themselves that he was human. It was the least he could do. He checked his watch, an old Timex with a cracked face, and shoved his hands in his pockets. Any minute now.

Across the street, a young girl hurried into view from around the corner, her arms full of a bundle. She looked up at the sign over the fire station door, looked down at her bundle, and swallowed hard. A tiny arm rose from the bundle, naked and red. The girl took it and tucked it back inside the blanket. She sniffled, setting the bundle gingerly down on the top step before backing away slowly. One step, then another her eyes remaining on the pile of blankets before her face crumpled and she turned to run, a dry sob echoing down the empty street.

Death pushed off the telephone pole and made his way leisurely across the street. The baby had started to cry, cold now without its mother to hold it and keep its limbs covered. Death looked down at it, feeling its little heartbeat slow. He crouched down, breathing directly onto the child, and knew he was likely making its final moments worse, a wretched thing like him, even if he was trying to provide a little warmth.

Then something unexpected happened. The baby quieted and bright blue eyes opened, holding Death captive in an intense stare. Death couldn’t feel things, he mused, but if it could, surely it would have been charmed by the babe who instead of recoiling from its impending end, raised a hand toward him, beckoning.

Death raised a cautious hand, one finger hooking in that tiny fist and he was surprised at how strong it was, despite the hypothermia. The child held his gaze still, just looking not pleading or frozen in horror and Death glanced at his watch again, noting the time. He looked up at the firehouse door, the sound of laughter dulled by the heavy metal. If only the girl had knocked before she ran. Death looked back to the child, its ethereal stare snagging his again.

Death raised his hand and knocked.

Inside the firehouse, a number of men made an uneasy circle around the strange man holding a bundled infant. Death hadn’t meant to stay but since he’d already gone and messed with the strings of Fate he figured he might as well assure that the child was taken care of.

“You found him on our stoop?”

“Yeah, you know, I figured some poor kid musta left him. Safe harbor and all.”

Death looked around then down at the babe who seemed to be transfixed by Death’s face. Death wondered what he saw, why he wasn’t scared. His little soul was a speck of shining light, strong and hearty though his body was frail with the beginnings of pneumonia settling in his lungs.

“Why didn’t you take him to a hospital?”

Death blinked and the man recoiled slightly. “Well, he was left here, and don’t you have EMTs on staff.”

One of the men seemed to shake himself out of a stupor and stepped closer. He shivered as Death transferred the baby into his arms, the brush of his hand on Death’s coat giving him a sudden vision of fire and smoke and a strange sense of vertigo as if falling through the floor. He coughed, moving to lay the child on the table and it immediately started to cry. Death hovered closer moving into the child’s line of sight and it settled down though still made discontented noises as he was poked and prodded.

“Did you see who dropped him off? A firefighter asked and Death shrugged, hands back in his pockets.

“She was young. Hurried off before I could say anything.”

The firefighter narrowed his eyes but didn’t question it. “Did she say anything? Why she was dumping him? If he had a name?”

Death paused, looking down at the boy whose eyes were on him bright blue as all newborns are but there was an electricity in them. Death laid a gentle hand on the child’s head, feeling the soft down of hair, the fragile skull.

“No,” Death said finally. “But his name,” Death smiled and the child seemed to smile back. “Is Castiel.”

“Cas-tee-what?” One of the fire fighter’s whispered to another and Death turned towards him, causing both men to step back.

“Castiel. The Angel of Thursday.” Death’s thumb swiped across the child’s forehead. “The Angel of Solitude.”

Death was a busy man, lots to attend to and never in the same place for very long. He worked mostly with children, preferring to be the one to usher them to the other side but as time passed he found himself returning to one place over and over.

The child he saved had been adopted almost immediately by a couple who’d lost many children of their own. Death may have pulled a few strings with Fate but the outcome was ideal. Castiel grew up well-loved and cherished by a mother and a father who understood the great gift they’d been given. They even decided to keep his name, something that pleased Death immensely. If he gave the grandparents a few extra years because of it, well that was his business.

It was a windy day at the beginning of spring when Fate suddenly shifted and Death lighted down in Chicago once more. Castiel, climbing around on the jungle gym at the local park, his babysitter on the phone several yards away was forty-five minutes from an untimely end. Death hung back, hands in the pockets of his leather jacket as he watched the scene play out, an older man making his way over. Death eyed the babysitter as the man approached Castiel, holding a leash and collar.

“My dog got out of her leash! Can you help me find her?” The man said, his face drawn in grief but Death saw into his heart and his rage rumbled as thunder in the distance.

“Oh no!” Castiel exclaimed, jumping down and touching the leash in the man’s hand. “I’ll help you find her. I got a dog too. His name is Marshmallow.”

The man offered his hand and Castiel took it.

Death was there in an instant, one hand on the man’s shoulder. When the man looked up, his mouth opened in surprise and he gasped his last breath. Castiel cocked his head to the side at the man crumpled on the ground before he looked up at Death. Death could only stare back.

“What happened?”

Death shifted from foot to foot. “He was a bad man. He wanted to take you.”

Castiel’s eyebrows rose and he looked down at the cooling body on the wood chips. “Is he going to be okay?”

Death fought a smile, eyes flicking to the reaper nearby before waving them away with the man’s wretched soul. “He’s gone to where he belongs.”

Castiel nodded and offered his hand. “Wanna swing with me?”

Death’s neck jerked in surprise but found himself carefully slotting his hand in the child’s and allowing himself to be lead off to the swing set.

“I’m Castiel. What’s your name?”

Death paused thinking back to a time when he had a name. “Dean, I think.”

“Hello, Dean.” Castiel looked up at him, his face dominated by large blue eyes. “Wait, you think? Don’t you know your own name?”

Death huffed. “Well, no one has used it in… a very long time.” He cleared his throat.

“I’m sorry, Dean.” Castiel grabbed onto one chain of a swing and turned to sit in it. “It must be lonely, no one knowing your name.”

Death sat in the swing next to the boy and pursed his lips. “Maybe a little, but it’s not so bad. My work keeps me busy.”

Castiel kicked off with his feet and began pumping his legs, reaching higher. Death lifted his head to watch. “‘Daddy says ‘all work and no play makes Jack a dull boy’ I asked him who Jack was.” Castiel let his feet drag along the ground, grinding to a halt and Death felt a smile quirk at his lips as the child’s head tipped to the side in confusion. “But he just laughed.” Castiel’s head righted itself. “Not at me though. Sometimes I’m funny and don’t realize it.”

Death surprised himself with a laugh, the sound carrying on the wind and making the group of people gathering around the corpse by the jungle gym shiver. The babysitter was still on the phone but the commotion was stealing her attention. Death turned to look at Castiel, rocking back and forth in his swing, his eyes on the horizon.

“Hey, just so you know, for next time, any stranger comes up to you asking you to go somewhere with them you kick em in the shin and scream your head off,” Death rested his palm atop the boy’s head and Castiel looked up at him, a small smile playing across his lips. “Capiche?”

Castiel gave a deep nod. “I capiche.” His eyes had found his babysitter who was now frantically searching for him. When her eyes landed on him, Death hid himself from her. “She looks really mad.”

“She’s just scared,” Death replied and Castiel looked over at him. “You wandered off and she didn’t know where you were.” And a guy dropped dead about six feet from where you were playing.

“Castiel!” The babysitter skidded to a halt in the gravel in front of Castiel’s swing, pulling him into her arms. “You scared me.” She picked him up, hooking him on her hip. “Come on we need to go.”

The child heaved a deep sigh as if resigned to his fate. “Okay.” He twisted in her arms, looking back at Death, and gave a small smile. “Goodbye, Dean.”

“Bye kiddo.”

The babysitter was already starting to walk away and she snorted, looking over her shoulder then at Castiel. “Who are you talking to.”

“Dean. He’s my new friend.”

Death sat smiling until they were out of sight.

Castiel was eight when his dog Marshmallow was going into his fifteenth year. Death generally let the new recruits handle the animals but on a scorching summer day, he found himself standing at the gate of the big craftsman on the corner where Castiel lived. He looked up at the second-story window, the one he knew to be the young boy’s who was getting bigger every day.

They’d met many times over since that first encounter in the park and to Death’s surprise, Castiel always remembered him and knew him by name. Now seemed to be no exception, the front door opening to release Castiel into the world. His dark hair was an unruly swirl beneath the baseball cap he wore, his matching t-shirt proclaiming he played for the Mustangs, sponsored by Nally Ford.

“Hello, Dean,” Castiel said with a small smile as he approached. Death smiled back but his eyes caught on the white ball of fluff that was attempting to make his way down the porch steps to follow the boy.

Death let himself in the gate, striding forward and they met halfway, Castiel looking up into Death’s face while Death peered down into his. There was no fear there, no anxiety. There never had been, a wonder Death never could truly comprehend. Marshmallow gave a low growl. Death glanced down at the old dog, barely any teeth left in his head but ready to bite at the smallest provocation. That was about right.

“Marshmallow. No.” Castiel looked down at the dog then back up into the face of Death. “He’s just grumpy because he doesn’t feel good.” Castiel watched as Death crouched down, hand reaching. The growl ceased as Death’s hand hovered over the dog’s head and Castiel squatted down to pet him, hands gentle around the old dog’s ears.

“Yeah, about that,” Death began softly. “This is going to be hard for you to understand, Cas, but Marshmallow is very old.” As he said it, the dog’s eyes sank closed. Castiel rubbed his ears.

“I know.”

Death swallowed hard, his hand moving to hover over the dog’s back and Marshmallow’s legs gave out, his body rolling to the side as he began to pant. Castiel rubbed his belly. “And when dogs get very old, well, they have to go.” Castiel looked up at him. “And when that happens, someone comes to get them.”

Castiel looked down at the dog who was panting, tongue lolling out the side of its mouth. He ran his fingers through the curly white fur at his side. “Not the dog catcher…”

Death chuckled. “No, no not the dog catcher. Someone who helps them make the transition to their next journey.”

Castiel continued to play with Marshmallow’s fur. “Who?”

Death licked his lips, sucked in a breath he didn’t need. “They look like ordinary folks, sometimes you can see them, other times you can’t.”

“Like you?”

Death blinked and took a moment to marvel at the feeling of surprise, something he hadn’t felt in eons. “Yes, like me.”

Castiel looked up at him, blue eyes steady but solemn. “You’re here to take him, aren’t you?”

Death swallowed hard, the sorrow in the boy’s voice cutting him deeper than tears ever could. “Yeah, Cas. I’m sorry.”

Castiel sniffled a bit as he looked down, petting down Marshmallow’s side. “You’ll look after him? Wherever you take him? He won’t be alone, right?”

Death placed a hand on the back of Castiel’s neck and waited for a shiver that never came. Finally, he spoke. “Yes, of course, Cas.”

Castiel sucked in a deep breath and sat down on his butt, folding his legs so they butted up against Marshmallow’s legs. “Can I have just a few more minutes?”

Death glanced at his watch and nodded. They sat there, young boy and ancient entity as the dog’s breath became more shallow. Castiel dug his fingers into the thick curls of Marshmallow’s side and folded himself in half, pressing his face to its chest. The dog fussed attempted to lick at Castiel’s ball cap. Castiel breathed in deep and Death found himself doing the same, smelling cut grass, sweat and the musky odor of an animal nearing its end.

“It’s time, Cas,” Death murmured, his voice low and Castiel lifted his head, face tear-stained now, but he wiped them away with the back of his hand. He placed his hands on the dog’s side, looked up at Death, and nodded.

Death allowed the dog to sniff the back of his hand, accepting the feeble lick before he carded his hand through the curls at the top of his head. Castiel’s hands that had been rising and falling with the dog’s labored breath stopped. Death curled his hand and brought it to his chest, holding it there for the feeble soul to feel safe on its journey. His other hand when to the top of Castiel’s head.

“Go get your father. He’ll help you with the ritual.”

“Can’t you stay?” Castiel asked, blue eyes shining with unshed tears and if Death had a heart it would have broken.

“I’ve gotta get Marshmallow to where he belongs.” Dean knuckled away a tear that was making its way down Castiel’s cheek.

“Okay,” Castiel lowered his head, looking at the cooling body of his beloved pet. He looked back up. “Goodbye, Dean.”

Death was unprepared for the boy to wrap his arms around him in a tight squeeze before getting up and walking back towards the house.

Castiel was twenty when his fate changed again and Death nearly didn’t make it in time. In the back seat of a car, driving way too fast down a dark winding road, Death appeared next to him, his face striated in moonlight. Castiel jumped, his reflexes slower with the alcohol in his veins.

“Dean?”

“Cover your face, kid.” Death muttered as he braced his feet against the seat in front of him and threw out an arm.

When they hit the tree at 63 miles per hour Castiel’s body slammed into his arm and Death could feel the ribs break, felt the punctured lung as if it were his own. The driver was halfway through the windshield, another reaper already there to take him. Death waved them away as blood slowly filled Castiel’s lungs.

He coughed, choking on the acrid liquid, unable to get a full breath. His hand twisted in Death’s leather jacket, tugging, blue eyes wide and for the first time Death saw fear there. He couldn’t stand it. He reached past the headrest in front of him, touched the mangled face of the boy there and he immediately stopped breathing.

“You can’t do that!” A voice sharp from outside the car and Death nearly jumped out of his skin when he turned his head to look out the window and found the small blond woman standing there with her clipboard of names. “It’s the other boy’s time, Dean.”

Death glared out at her, throwing open the door. “You got your soul. Get out of here.”

“You reaped the wrong-“

“The hell I did,” Death yelled and every animal in the forest quieted, the wind through the trees died down.

The two of them watched as headlights appeared down the road, slowing when the driver saw the wreckage. Death and Fate stood side by side on the shoulder of the road as the good Samaritan talked to Castiel through the back window, promising him everything would be alright.

“He’ll make it.” Death heaved a sigh, hearing the sirens in the distance.

“Just barely,” Fate muttered, consulting her clipboard. “One of these days you’re going to run out of favors.”

Death turned to look at her. “Not any time soon.”

It was three days later in his half-empty dorm room that Castiel attempted to take his own life. Death arrived just as Castiel kicked the chair out of the way, his body falling with an extension cord wrapped tight around his neck right into Death’s arms. A quick flick of his pocket knife and Death had freed Castiel, laying him gently down on the floor as he coughed and sobbed.

“No! Take me! I want to die!” Castiel twisted onto his knees, grabbing onto Death’s legs and hugging them tightly. “Please. I can’t take it. The guilt, it’s too much!”

Death ran his fingers through Castiel’s unruly hair. “It’s not your time.”

“It was my time,” Castiel wiped at his face, fury in his eyes as he glared up at the ancient entity. “I heard you and that lady talking. She said you reaped the wrong one!”

“You hit your head pretty hard, kid.”

Castiel wiped at his face furiously, getting his trembling legs under him. “I know what you are. What you do.”

Death brought himself to his full height, leveling Castiel with his most pensive stare. “Do you?”

“I’ve always known,” Castiel spit. “And I never cared. You were always my…” Castiel trailed swallowing hard. “My friend. But this, I can’t take this Dean.”

“Why can’t you just be grateful,” Death huffed holding out his arms.

Castiel’s face went slack with shock. “You kill the man I love instead of me and I’m supposed to be grateful?”

Death’s mouth popped open, surprised again, that made twice in a single decade now. “Your… the man you loved? Wow, how did I miss that?”

“You miss a lot of things,” Castiel spit, his eyes hard.

Death rubbed his mouth. “When-“

“Since I was a child,” Castiel heaved a sigh. “Look don’t try to change the subject. I was dying already, Dean!” Castiel’s fists were clenched at his sides. “Why didn’t you let me go? Why’d you have to take him? He was everything to me. How could you not know that?”

Death rubbed the back of his neck, “Life isn’t really under my purview, kid.”

“What about love then?” Castiel got right in his face, nose to nose, and Death stood stock still.

“I know it when I see it.”

“Then you must have been blind that night.” Castiel spun away, running his hands through his hair. “I can’t do this. Please. Take me.”

“No.”

“Why? Why not?”

“I told you. It’s not your time.”

“Are you sure it’s not because you have some weird obsession with me?” Castiel strode right up into what a human would call their personal space. “What is it about me huh? Why me? Why don’t you latch on to some other poor bastard?”

Death swallowed hard. “I can go if you’d like.”

Castiel let out a humorless laugh. “Stay. Go. What do I care?” He let himself fall onto his bed, face buried in his pillow while Death stood watch.

Death didn’t see much of Castiel after that or more like Castiel didn’t see much of him. He’d check in every now and then, saw him graduate college, move to the east coast, fall in love and get his heart broken only to fall in love again. Through it all Death stood watch, sometimes with Fate at his side, like at Castiel’s wedding.

“I could step in,” Fate murmured, an offer she wasn’t likely to make twice but Death shook his head, watching as Castiel beamed with happiness after kissing his husband.

It wasn’t long after that they met again in a hospital just north of Chicago. It was nearing midnight and no one was around. Castiel was sitting with his mother, his husband and father had gone home hours before but Castiel insisted on staying. Neither could understand why Castiel refused to leave her side but didn’t question it. Castiel was a good son who loved his mother very much.

“Hello, Dean,” Castiel said as Death hovered in the doorway. “I was wondering when you’d show up.”

“I tried to wait for you to leave,” Death mumbled, looking down at his boots as he tapped his toe on the floor.

“Why?”

Death looked up and found Castiel’s head canted to the side, and he couldn’t help but smile. “We didn’t exactly part on the best of terms when we last spoke.”

Castiel looked down at his mother’s hand, so small and frail in his own. He cleared his throat. “You were right. I should have been grateful.”

“It was a callous thing to say when you were grieving.”

Castiel snorted. “That’s true.” He huffed a sigh. “But ultimately you were right. I didn’t love him. I didn’t know what love was then. Not that kind of love anyway.” Castiel ran his thumb over the thin blue veins of his mother’s hand. “How much longer does she have?”

Death checked his watch. “We’ve got a few more minutes.”

“Then sit.”

Death did, across the bed from Castiel and took in the changes, the strands of gray in his hair, laugh lines crinkling around his eyes and mouth.

“You know you look exactly the same as I remember you when I was four.”

Death grinned. “All that clean living.”

Castiel snorted, a grin pulling at his own lips before it faded. “You’ll take care of her?”

Death nodded. “Of course.”

Castiel squinted, opening his mouth then closing it again. Death heaved a sigh. “Go ahead. Ask whatever you want to ask me.”

Castiel’s cheeks bloomed a lovely pink that Death would see in every sunrise from that moment on. “How’s Marshmallow?”

Death blinked. “I give you one question to ask me whatever you want and you ask about your damn dog?”

Castiel frowned. “I loved that dog.”

Death rolled his eyes and chuckled. “Marshmallow is doing great. Has lots of doggy friends.”

A small smile tugged at Castiel’s lips. “Good. I hope Mom gets to see him.”

“I’ll make sure she does.”

“I’m ready.”

Death gave a small nod, waiting a beat to watch Castiel breath in steadily, his eyes on his mother’s face. Death reached forward, fingers brushing a white curl from her forehead before resting his palm there gently. One of the monitors began to scream. A nurse bustled in quickly, checking in and ultimately turning off the sound, standing by as the old woman took her last breaths. Death took her soul and cradled it to his chest.

“Take care of her,” Castiel whispered and Death gave him a solemn nod before he went on his way.

It wasn’t long after that Fate dealt Castiel another bad hand and Death had arrived to do his duty. Castiel’s husband laid prone on a hospice bed, his once strong body frail and hairless, ravaged by a disease Death hated almost more than he hated himself. Death came into the room unannounced, stood by Castiel’s side as silent tears ran down his face.

Death checked his watch.

“I can feel you.”

Death nearly fell over in shock. Third time in as many decades. Damn.

“Don’t hide, Dean. I’ve been expecting you.”

“I tried.” Death placed a hand on Castiel’s shoulder. “I tried but I’m out of favors.”

“It’s okay,” Castiel sniffled, his own hand coming up to cover the cool one on his shoulder and Death felt the warmth as if it were the sun. “How much time do we have?”

“Couple minutes.”

Castiel nodded, leaning forward and placing a hand on his husband’s shoulder, giving him a light shake. He gasped awake, eyes hazy with pain and medication but something in them still blazed when they landed on Castiel.

“Honey, I want you to meet someone. Can you see him? Next to me.” Castiel turned, looking up at Death, and licked his dry lips.

“Yes,” Castiel’s husband croaked. “He’s just as handsome as you said.”

Castiel let out a watery laugh, glancing up at Death who was not blushing as he reached up to rub his ear. “He’s here for you.”

Castiel’s husband nodded solemnly. “About time.”

Castiel let out a quiet sob and immediately tried to shove it back into his mouth. His husband squeezed his hand as Death squeezed his shoulder.

“Come on now. This ain’t the end. I’ll see you. Hopefully not too soon?” Castiel’s husband lifted his brows and Death gave him a small smile.

“Not if I have anything to do with it.”

Castiel was leaning over, pressing his forehead to his husband’s and breathing slow in his nose and out his mouth, barely hanging on. Death stepped forward, hand covering the one that Castiel held. One final gasp and then the room was silent. Castiel gave a soft cry, feeling warmth rush through him, love and light and something so bright it almost burned. And then it was gone.

Death pulled the soul close to his chest, his other hand lighting on Castiel’s shoulder. Castiel glanced up into the face of Death but was immediately distracted by the small ball of light in his hand. Castiel looked up and Death nodded in answer to his question. Castiel let go of the hand in his and wrapped his arms around himself as the tears came hot and fast.

“Can you please stay?”

Death shifted from foot to foot. “I need to take care of him. But I can come back.”

“Please hurry.”

Death wasn’t really the type to hang around any one place too long but for years after Castiel’s husband’.s transition, he found himself irrevocably drawn to Castiel. He’d always been to a certain extent but the man’s grief had worn down all his defenses, all his excuses to stay away. For once Death was welcomed into a home with open arms.

They sat on the couch and watched bad television. Death had a strange obsession with Dr. Sexy that Castiel found hilarious. Death tolerated all of Castiel’s terrible nature documentaries. It was one night as Castiel was going up the stairs to bed that he paused, looking back at Death who was putting the dishes in the dishwasher.

“I love you, Dean. You know that right?”

Death stood stock still and he’d be goddamned if it hadn’t happened again. He looked up to find Castiel just standing there on the third step, gaze just as intense as it had been when he’d first laid eyes on him as an infant. He didn’t have to say it. Neither of them did so Castiel just gave him a small smile and continued his ascent up the stairs. And that night, Death followed.

It was both the worst and best day of his tenure when Castiel’s time was finally up. Fate in her fussy suit with her obnoxious clipboard arrived to stand at the end of the hospital bed where Castiel lay, Death at his side.

“No more favors. No more tricks,” Fate said softly and Death looked away from the face of his beloved, aged and creased as it was now, while his was permanently stuck as youthful and smooth.

“Can I keep him?” Death asked, staring into the eyes of Fate and daring to hope. “I know it’s not ever been done. I know this is a one-person gig but…” Death looked back upon the only face he’d ever loved, into the only eyes that had ever truly seen him. “Just this once, can I keep him?”

Fate gave him a small smile. “Yes, Dean. He’s yours to keep.”

So Death and his companion were joined at the human’s crossing, bound by Fate herself to walk through eternity together. Sure they quarreled, sometimes even spending a few decades apart but the string that tethered them was unbreakable, a fact Death loved to remind his younger counterpart of.

It’s said that when a couple dies within hours of each other they’re always accompanied by another couple, two men, handsome and young, looking more in love than any cosmic entities had a right to be.

#suptober21 #destiel #supernatural #fanfic: supernatural #deancas #character death #the dog dies sorry #writing by me

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themadlostgirl · 3 years

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In Your Charge

*This one was fun to write! Felix fluff is always nice!*

Prompt: Felix has a crush on the new girl but she’s always surrounded by a group of mean girls. That all changes when Peter puts Felix in charge of her. Fluff ensues.

Requested by: Anon

Warnings: language

~~~

This new girl was beginning to be a problem. Felix was never particularly close to any of the Lost Girls on the island. They were fine but he kept his distance from them most of the time. It was also made easy since the girls seemed to avoid him. Whether they were scared of him or just didn’t like him he didn’t really care.

Then the new girl came. She dropped into Neverland with a sharp smile and even sharper tongue. She was a quick thinker and light on her feet. Felix had taken notice immediately.

It started innocently enough. He’d watch her during training admiring how hard she tried even after getting knocked to the ground a hundred times. She was stubborn if nothing else. Then he was watching her at camp when she danced around the fire. It was effortless the way she moved and he was lost to the sway of her hips and the wide smile that adorned her face as she spun around the fire. He was lost to her completely.

Now relationships between the Lost Girls and Lost Boys was nothing new. They would get together and break up and get back together all the time. Out of all the Lost Boys though Felix was never one that the girls approached. At first he hadn’t minded since, again, he hadn’t really cared about them one way or another. Then Y/N came along.

Before he had always been too nervous to approach her but when he did work up the courage he was blocked by the girls surrounding her. He wasn’t naive to what those girls said about him either.

“He’s such a beanpole!”

“That scar on his face is so gross.”

“He’s always so grumpy. It’s actually kinda freaky.”

“Doesn’t he ever smile?”

“He’s probably sad because he knows he’s not as cute as any of the other boys.”

“No one is ever gonna want to be with him.”

Who were these girls to say such things about him? If there was any saving grace it was that Y/N stood up for him as best she could. She’d tell the girls to shut up and stop being so mean.

“Have any of you even talked to him?” She would shoot at them. “You don’t even know him.”

It gave Felix hope when he heard her defending him.

“Another day admiring the view, Felix?” Pan stood next to him. Y/N was sitting in a circle along with a bunch of the girls. “You do know you can go talk to her, right?”

“I can’t get close enough.” Felix scoffed, “Those girls are like attack dogs. They won’t even let me near her.”

“I think I have an idea around that.” Pan smiled in that way that let Felix know he was plotting something.

~~~

I sat with my friends in the middle of the camp. Ever since I landed in Neverland the Lost Girls had adopted me as one of their own. They were nice and fun to be around but they were so unnecessarily mean to the boys. Well...one boy.

Felix.

Oh Felix…

I had no idea why the girls were so against him. He was a tall, lean, blonde with bright eyes and a sexy scar running down his face that made him look dangerous and mysterious. Not to mention that he was also one of the best fighters on the island and Pan’s second in command.

She hated when the girls made fun of him. It was almost like a game to them. We would be talking about something else entirely but the second they saw Felix come within earshot the conversation would pivot to rag on him.

At first I didn’t know what to say or do about it. I didn’t know Felix. I wanted to but I was too scared to go talk to him. One thing the girls got right was that he was almost always scowling by himself which made him hard to want to approach. So I stayed silent.

Then came the day where I spotted Felix out by himself. I had gone off on my own for some quiet time and found Felix relaxing in the shade of a tree with a small serene smile on his face. He was drumming out a little tune on his thigh with his fingers. I stood for a moment mesmerized.

Everything about him drew me in. But it was that one moment of piece that truly cemented the growing feelings I had. I had a crush on Felix. After that I would tell the girls to shut up when they started ragging on Felix but it never stopped them for long.

I was trying to plot a way to get Felix alone so I could talk to him when Pan called me over away from the girls. Everyone went silent assuming that I must be in trouble. I can’t understand how though since I hadn’t even been here a month. “Walk with me,” he ushered me away from the camp, “You too, Felix.” Pan called over his shoulder.

Why was he bringing Felix? He was his second in command so it shouldn’t have been too shocking. Maybe this is a good thing. If after Pan is done with me I can talk to Felix before we go back to camp.

“This should be far enough.” Pan stopped and addressed the Lost Boy and Girl in front of him.

“Am I in trouble?”

“No, new girl. You’re not in trouble.” Pan assured her, “But I have to say that I am concerned. You have been here a month and you still cannot defend yourself. You struggle in training and cannot beat even our easiest of combatants.”

“I know. Fighting is something I’m not used to but I have been trying my best to improve.” I said.

It was embarrassing really how badly I just didn’t get fighting. I kept getting up but it didn’t stop the fact that it took no effort on my partner’s end to take me back down again. It’s part of the reason I was always with the girls. They were better at defending themselves so if we ever ran across pirates or wild animals in the jungle then they could fight them and I could keep safe in the huddle. It was embarrassing but necessary until I got better.

“I understand but I need you to progress faster. Which is why Felix is here.” Pan motioned him closer, “Felix is the strongest and best fighter on the island, second to me of course. From now on he is in charge of your training and will be your escort around the island.”

“What?” Felix and I said at the same time.

“Pan,” Felix took him aside, “This is your grand idea? Are you insane?”

“Shut up and go with it.” Pan told him. They turned back towards me. “I assume that this won’t be a problem for you two.”

“No. Not at all. I just don’t want Felix to have to waste his time following me around. I have the girls and they work just as well…” What am I saying? This is what I wanted! Someone stop my stupid mouth from spouting this nonsense!

“Those girls coddle you.” Pan said, “They’re making you soft. You will stick with Felix for the foreseeable future. It’s not like he has much else to do anyway.”

“Pan…” Felix stressed.

“Have fun you two. Do not leave her side, Felix.” Pan pointed at them and then left leaving the two of them alone.

“I’m sorry,” I said automatically, “I bet you wish you didn’t have to get saddled with me, huh?”

“Oh no,” Felix rubbed the back of his neck, “I don’t mind.”

“At least this’ll give us a chance to get to know one another better. I don’t think I’ve ever gotten the chance to really talk to you.”

Felix’s features softened. “Nor I you.” He looked away, “Since you’re in my charge now how about we go for a walk? I can give you some pointers I know the girls probably hadn’t told you.”

“Sure, that sounds nice.” I smiled. This was almost too good to be true!

We spent the rest of the afternoon walking aimlessly around the island. Felix gave me a lot of advice about fighting and little things to help improve my form. He promised that we would go over them more in depth tomorrow at training. Soon the conversation turned into more casual things. Personal things. We talked about where we were from before Neverland and what things we liked. He told me funny stories and adventures the Lost Boys had gone on before they started recruiting girls on the island.

I didn’t even notice it was getting dark until Felix started searching for a good enough stick to make a torch. There wasn’t a lot of vicious animals on Neverland but still it was unwise to wander about in the jungle without any light. I couldn’t really see anything in the dark but Felix navigated the jungle like it was perfectly lit. I suppose that must come from years of living here. To make sure I didn’t get lost he took to holding my hand. I tried not to read too much into it but after spending all day getting to know one another I couldn’t help the giddy excitement that bubbled up inside of me.

Felix had just lit a torch when we heard something moving in the jungle. Felix scanned the dark shadows of the trees. “Stay close,” Felix whispered, his grip on my hand tightening, “Something’s out there.”

“Okay,” I followed him as we started moving back towards camp. Every so often Felix would stop and listen, scanning the darkness for any sign of movement.

“Don’t be alarmed,” Felix whispered as they walked, “But someone is following us.”

“What do we do?” I whispered back.

“I’m going to put out the torch. You keep ahold of me and do not let go. We’re gonna make a run for it.”

“Are sure that’s safe?”

“Safer than if we get surrounded pirates. You can’t fight and while I can hold my own I don’t want to wander into an ambush.” He reaffirmed his grip on my hand. “Ready?”

“Yes.” I took a deep breath. Felix extinguished the torch and then we were running. I was stumbling trying to keep up with his long strides. More than once I tripped over roots and rocks I couldn’t see. Felix kept me upright. I could hear who was chasing us now. Their footfalls crunching quickly after us. It sounded like they were on all sides.

My lungs burned and my legs ached but we kept running. My foot caught another root and this time my hand was ripped from Felix’s as I went down. “Y/N!” Felix ran back to collect me.

I felt a pair of hands haul me up. The people chasing us were right on top of us now. I could hear them surrounding us. “I’m sorry,” I said as I tried to catch my breath, “I tried to keep up.”

“It’s okay,” Felix shoved me behind him, “At the first opening you make a break for it, okay?”

“But--”

“No arguing!”

Our pursuers closed in. I huddled closer into Felix. Suddenly there was light all around us and the sound of laughter. It wasn’t the raucous laughter of pirates though. I looked up and saw the girls holding torches and their stomachs as they doubled over with laughter.

“Girls!” I shouted at them, “What the hell?! You scared us! We thought you were pirates!”

“Oh calm down,” One of the girls waved it off, “It was just a bit of fun. After Pan disappeared with you earlier and you didn’t come back we went out looking for you. Imagine our surprise when we saw that you got saddled with Felix. You poor thing, come with us. We’ll get you back to camp.”

“Now hang on--” I started but Felix silenced me.

“She’s not your concern anymore.” Felix told them. “She was put under my charge. You can head back by yourselves.”

“Your charge?” the girls started whispering amongst themselves. “Oh dear, Y/N, is this a punishment? Did Pan stick you with him as a lesson or something?”

“No. He’s meant to be helping me.” Y/N said, “I’m not being punished at all. Also, I don’t know what your problem is with Felix but he is incredibly strong and fierce and even kind. He is the best damn fighter on this island and does not deserve the constant disrespect you jerks hurl at him!”

“Doesn’t change the fact that he’s not that nice to look at.” One of the girls mumbled.

“Shut up, Maria! Just because your boyfriend looks like a baked potato doesn’t mean you can go around insulting Felix. What’s wrong with him? Is he too tall? Too muscular? Too handsome? Is the scar on his face not simultaneously attractive and cool? What’s your problem?” I shouted at them, “So bugger off and leave us alone!”

“Oh my god,” the girls muttered, “You like him. Look at how red their faces are.”

“Piss off!” Felix yelled at them. The girls finally scattered leaving Felix and I alone again.

“I’m sorry about them. I really don’t understand why they act like that around you. They’re so mean for no reason.”

“It’s fine.” Felix shrugged. “Not like they matter anyway.”

“Right.” I nodded. Felix peered down at me. We had come to a break in the trees and I could faintly make out his face in the moonlight. “Did you...did you mean what you said? About me?”

“Oh…” My face started burning anew, “I mean, yeah. You’re Pan’s second in command after all. Everyone else knows how good a fighter you are and--”

“You think I’m handsome?” He grinned slightly and my stomach flipped. That really wasn’t fair. He towered over me, encasing me completely in his presence.

“Yes…” I mumbled.

“Well that certainly makes this a lot easier.” He grabbed my hand again. “I guess this means you don’t mind me following you around as your kinda bodyguard, huh?”

“Not at all. I was actually rather pleased when Pan assigned you to me. I’ve been trying to get a moment alone to talk to you for a while now.”

“What a coincidence, so have I. So…” He trailed off.

“So what?” I asked.

“So I guess this makes me your bodyguard, teacher and your boyfriend.”

“Boyfriend?!” My heart started hammering in my chest.

“Yeah, isn’t that what you wanted?”

“No! Wait--I didn’t mean no as in ‘no’ I mean it like yes. Yes I would very much like that. I would like for you to be my...oh god I can’t talk right.” I groaned.

Felix chuckled softly and pulled me closer. He planted a small kiss on my cheek. “Come on, let’s get back to camp.”

“Okay,” I couldn’t help the huge smile that spread across my face.

We strolled back into camp some time later. Word must have spread about Felix being put in charge of my protection and training cause everyone was watching us. The whispers and murmurs grew even louder when they noticed us holding hands. Their wide, disbelieving eyes following us as we sat down near the fire. Felix put an arm around me that was as sweet as it was possessive.

Pan spotted us across the way and smirked. I would need to make sure to thank him for this later.

#felix imagine #felix x reader #ouat #neverland #request #peter pan ouat

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creative-hanyou-girl · 3 years

Text

The Witch’s Daughter (Pt.2)

Now with a cover!!!!

Disclaimer: I do not own InuYasha/Yahahime or any of its characters. All InuYasha characters belong to Rumiko Takahashi, Sunrise, and Viz media.

Genre: Family/Romance/Angst

Rated: Teen (for some cussing and depictions of violence)

A/N: First off, I want to give a big fat “Thank You” to all of you guys who left likes and reviews and for reblogging the 1st chapter of The Witch’s Daughter! I am so sorry for the long wait. A lot of stuff happened over the holidays and beyond that, and college has kept me pretty busy too. I hope you guys enjoy this chapter, and I’ll try to be quicker with the next one!!!

I should also say that while Touga holds both these titles in the story, in this universe, the title of Emperor is not the same as the title of Inu no Taisho.

Emperor: Ruler over the people, responsible for governing the country; Sesshomaru to be successor.

Inu no Taisho: Commander and General of all armed forces, literally translating to “Great Dog General”; InuYasha to be successor.

(trust me, knowing the difference is important.)

Chapter One

FF.Net

With that said, on with Chapter Two!

Chapter Two

Swinging the sword in his grip at a downward angle, Lord and General InuYasha huffed in satisfaction. His sparring partner and friend, Miroku, had his own weapon knocked out of his hands as a result of the half dog-demon’s offensive maneuver, the force of the technique even toppling the human man over to land on his butt.

Scenting the approaching threat from behind, InuYasha whirled around smoothly, his blade clashing thunderously with the sword that was about to come down on him.

This time facing off against his rival and soldier, a wolf-demon named Kouga, the two demons went at each other fiercely, weapons clashing and clanging loudly and violently at speeds that’d be impossible for a human to achieve no matter how skilled a swordsman they were. Sparks flew as the two sparring men met each other’s attacks with vigour.

Miroku, seeing an opening, grabbed his own sword and went to attack the young dog-eared general. Rushing at his seemingly unsuspecting target, Miroku’s blue eyes widened in alarm when InuYasha ducked, hunching his broad shoulders and back forward to avoid Kouga’s blade coming at him from the side. The human soldier couldn’t stop himself fast enough, resulting in him barreling atop his Lord’s back, only for said Lord to adjust his movements in order to have Miroku’s slightly smaller frame roll over the curve of his spine.

Kouga had no time to react before his fellow soldier rammed into his stomach, losing his grip on his own sword as both he and Miroku toppled over in a heap not too gently on the marble floor.

The two soldiers looked up at their General as he aimed his trusty blade, the Tessaiga, to be level with their eyes.

InuYasha smirked triumphantly down at his fallen comrades, his golden amber eyes dancing with victory, before swiftly shelving Tessaiga in its sheath and offering a clawed hand out to Miroku.

Grinning and shaking his head, the human male accepted, the two friends collapsing hands as the demon lord pulled the dark-haired man up before collapsing his shoulder good-naturedly.

Kouga grouchily climbed to his own feet once Miroku was off him, crossing his arms as he scowled at his rival, “How the Hell do you always manage to one-up us every time, dog-turd? Call me crazy, but I’d think you were playin’ dirty!”

InuYasha glared right back, “There ain’t no such thing as playing dirty on the battlefield, wolf-boy. You know that as well as I do; when you're out there facing a shit-ton of soldiers tryin’ ta lop your head off, ya don’t got the luxury of playin’ fair!”

“Yeah well the wolf tribes know to fight with honor, unlike you and your sad excuse of an army, General,” Kouga retorted, emphasizing the word ‘general’ in a demeaning, sarcastic tone.

The aforementioned general growled, shoving his snarling face into Kouga’s, his large, clawed hand cracking as he stretched the tendons in a threatening gesture.

He and Kouga had never gotten along ever since the wolf-demon was enlisted to serve under the Inu no Taisho’s armed forces, only to be surprised and furious when he found that the Emperor’s youngest son, a half-breed, had already taken charge of many of the imperial forces, as he was set to succeed his father in becoming the next Inu no Taisho. Under that position, he’d serve under the next Emperor, his brother, as the commander of all of their Empire’s armed forces, leading himself and his men into the battlefields while the Emperor governs the rest of the country.

Kouga was angered to be placed in one of InuYasha’s troops three years ago when he enlisted to be under the command of the current Inu no Taisho and Emperor, Touga.

He made it very clear to InuYasha from the get-go that he was displeased to be bossed around by an ‘honorless half-bred mutt’, though he knew better than to say as such around the Emperor and his family.

That didn’t stop the wolf-demon from expressing his disdain for his general with his fellow soldiers, many of whom also shared his bias, and to InuYasha himself when the imperial family wasn’t around.

The feelings were mutual, as InuYasha hated the wolf’s stench and despised his high and mighty attitude. But while the half-demon lord loathed to admit it, as his father had pointed out when the two of them were overseeing recruit training, Kouga was a strong and resilient fighter, quick on his feet and great at tracking scents from miles away.

“Almost as good as you,” his father had commented.

Almost.

Keh!

At the end of the day, InuYasha knew he’d be a fool not to enlist the canine demon just because Kouga held a prejudice against him.

Didn’t mean he had to like it though.

“Well we ain’t in the wolf tribes now, are we ya scrawny wolf!” InuYasha exclaimed back in the present.

The two canine demons continued to snarl and bark back-and-forth, until a previously forgotten Miroku shoved his way in-between the two feuding men, breaking them up after some struggle as his human body was much weaker compared to those of his demonic comrades.

“I believe it’d be wise to step away from each other for a while. We did just return from a five-month trip in the North, after all. Perhaps now’s the time to relax and take a breather after all our hard work, do you not agree?” the human male reasoned, his tone soothing and placating.

Kouga continued to glare as he looked between the two human and half-demon men, before huffing haughtily and stomping out of the in-door combat training room.

InuYasha watched him go before snorting and going over where he stashed his red cloak and armor, stepping next to the large water basin to wash his face of the sweat and grime he’d accumulated from the return journey and the sparring match that he had just won. All the while, Miroku walked along with him, washing his face and grabbing his own gear.

As the two friends strapped back on their heavy armor over their under garments, Miroku looked over at his companion.

“You know Kouga says that stuff at this point just to get a rise out of you, right?” he asked, locking the straps for his armor to his right arm.

“Pfft. Whatever, not like it matters,” the general mumbled, clipping on his ragged and torn up cape.

“Just take a break from him and other troops, InuYasha. Use this time to spend with your family for at least a few hours! Nobody will blame you, and who knows when we’ll be sent out to fight more battles again.”

“Ain’t that simple, Miro. I ain’t no ordinary, run-of-the-mill soldier like you; I’m gonna have to become the Inu no Taisho after my father. I have ta be on my toes all. The damn. Time. Add to the fact that I’m a half-demon, and that makes my job ten times more difficult since more and more people are questioning my authority and capability to lead them into battle. I don’t got time for a break, not yet anyways,” InuYasha argued, a hint of bitterness seeping into his tone.

It had become such a sore spot for him, being a half-breed. A mutt. When he was young, while there might’ve been a whisper here and a distrustful glare there, InuYasha had been fortunate to not have had to face too much discrimination for his mixed blood, but he now knew that was due to his status in the royal family. It was only when he snuck out at age thirteen in commoner clothing that he experienced first-hand how half-demons are really treated by the outside world when they have no status of nobility or royalty.

It was horrible; he returned home hiding the bruises and scars under his clothes before they healed by themselves. He never told either of his parents.

The incident still didn’t stop him from sneaking out to explore, though.

And then he was announced to be the next Great Dog General, the Inu no Taisho, after his father when he turned sixteen, and that news shocked and appalled many in the Emperor’s court and beyond that. Everyone had expected, nay, hoped that Touga would’ve named his eldest, pure demon son Sesshomaru as both the future Emperor and Inu no Taisho, seeing as Touga himself held both titles. No one had anticipated that his younger, impure half-bred son would’ve been named as Touga’s successor to anything!

If he was being honest, InuYasha was shocked too, but he didn’t want the role.

He’d never told his family, since he knew it’d hurt them, but the then teenage InuYasha had always hoped for a life outside of the castle walls. Even after the incident that happened when he was thirteen, the half dog-demon still wanted to go out in the world where nobody knew who he was, and explore with no obligations or responsibilities to anyone. The brief experience with the outside world when he was thirteen had opened his eyes to how fake court-life truly was, and he hated it.

Still, seeing everybody who didn’t even know him, already doubting and questioning his capabilities in such a rigorous, brutal, and powerful position just on the basis of him being a half-demon motivated him to take up the mantle he had previously tried to avoid.

He’d prove to them, all of them, that he was the man for the job, and that his mixed blood didn’t matter.

That was his motivation that still drove him even now.

“Enough about that. Whatta ‘bout you? S’not like your working to become General; Why dontcha go see Sango and the kids. Bet they’ve been missing their old man,” Present InuYasha said, intentionally driving the conversation away from himself.

Miroku suddenly grinned dreamily at the mention of his wife and kids, and InuYasha still couldn’t believe this was the same perverted seventeen-year-old soldier he’d met all those years ago.

They’d met when Miroku joined InuYasha when he had taken charge of overseeing his first troop of soldiers. When he wasn’t giving them orders or training them, InuYasha kept his distance from everyone in his troop as much as possible, just as everyone had kept their distance from him.

That all changed when Miroku approached him one night when they were traveling along the Eastern borders. The human had grinned mischievously, but no less kindly with a jug of sake and had asked to talk with him.

“Just want to get to know our fearless new general, is all,” is what he had said.

From there, their friendship grew, though it took months for InuYasha to start warming up to Miroku. It didn’t help either that the young soldier had the bad habit of rubbing up along any pretty woman’s ass and asking them to “bare his children” for him, whether the woman was human or demon.

And then Miroku met Sango, a female soldier and the only woman who knew how to put him in his place. From that moment on, the perverted soldier only had eyes for the no-nonsense woman, and InuYasha watched as his two only friends grew closer and closer for the next few years, eventually getting married and having a shit-ton of kids.

Now they were awaiting baby number...eleven? Twelve? The half-demon had honestly lost count. All he knew was that they were expecting yet again, and Sango was pissed not being allowed into the troops again until the pup was born.

The kids adored InuYasha, or ‘Uncle Inu’ as the little ones and even the oldest three, Kin’u, Gyokuto, and Hisui, liked to call him, and InuYasha, in turn, adored them all right back.

An old, but familiar lump settled in his throat.

He was happy for his friends. He really was, but InuYasha couldn’t help the feeling of jealousy and longing to swell up to the surface.

He wanted what they had.

He wanted love.

He wanted children.

But he’d never have any of it.

Because he was a half-breed, and half-breeds, royalty or not, never find love, real love, let alone have children.

“My Lord! My Lord InuYasha!!!” cried the familiar, but no less annoying voice of his brother’s servant, Jaken.

The aforementioned lord sighed in aggravation as both he and Miroku turned at the squawking cry, just in time to see the small imp-demon come barreling in only to trip over himself in his haste.

“Lord InuYasha! It is important, your father needs to speak with you at this very moment! It is urgent!!!” Jaken continued on.

Both half-demon and human arched their brows in confusion, exchanging concerned looks.

“You go on back to your family, Miroku. I’ll deal with this,” InuYasha said.

“You sure?” Miroku asked, still concerned.

InuYasha simply nodded.

With that, the future Inu no Taisho with his armor fully on once more, turned and followed the panicky little demon out of the training room without another word.

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

Making their way through the halls leading to the throne room, InuYasha contemplated the matter Jaken had frantically informed him his father wanted to discuss.

It wasn’t unusual for Jaken to overreact over certain matters, but the half-demon had never seen the servant as panicky as he was at that moment, even during the times he’d displeased Sesshomaru.

When he first followed after the imp-demon to the throne room where his family was stationed, the young general had briefly feared it was another marriage proposition his father had arranged for him. There had been quite a few of those over the years, all of which didn’t work out as they should have. It wasn’t necessarily that all the women the Emperor picked for him were bad choices (although there were some who were stuck-up bitches who only wanted him for the rise in status and wealth), but none of them ever seemed to...click, with him.

He could never explain it, but being with them just felt wrong.

Like he was betraying someone by doing so.

Someone who haunted him in his dreams the few times he slept, but could never identify by face or scent.

Someone he didn’t know.

Or perhaps….someone he didn’t remember.

As they got closer to their destination however, the less InuYasha began to believe the situation to be about something as trivial as matrimony. Jaken wouldn’t be reacting the way he was if it was simply about him being offered the hand of a noble woman.

The more he thought about it, the more apprehension and dread he felt in the pit of his stomach at the unknown situation that awaited him.

Stopping in front of the sliding doors separating him from the unknown, InuYasha glanced down at Jaken, who bowed in understanding at staying put outside the room. The demon lord and general huffed and slid the doors open, expecting but unprepared for the worst.

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

“How’s that feel, sweetheart? Is it too tight?” Kagome asked gently, wrapping the young girl’s injured arm in gauze.

Her silent patient nodded hesitantly, staring at the pretty woman treating her wound and glancing at the silent quarter-demon girl who’d saved her.

Kagome finished wrapping her up and patted the child assuringly on her back, “You're going to be just fine, little one. Now why don’t you take one of the beddings we have here and get some rest, hmm? In the morning, Moroha and I will take you back home, okay?”

The little girl hesitated for just a moment.

“...Th-Thank y-you.” she stuttered in a soft voice, averting her brown eyes shyly when the mother and daughter pair blinked in surprise.

The experienced spell-caster smiled pleasantly, nodding her head.

“You are very welcome, my dear. That’s what we’re here for, and I’m glad that you are okay.”

The child blushed, then glanced at the teenage girl still staring at her in shock, before bowing towards the teen in gratitude, which only served to shock the poor quarter-demon even more.

“...And th-thank you, too. F-for rescuing me from th-those big men,” the human girl said, keeping her upper body lowered in a bow of respect.

Moroha was beyond surprised; She was flabbergasted. Never before had anybody who wasn’t her mother thank her, much less genuinely. She was more used to people belittling and repaying her and her mother’s kindness with cruel words and actions. Yet, here this young human child was, wholeheartedly and genuinely showing them, showing her, gratitude for saving and treating her, knowing or at least suspecting very well who they were, what they were.

The young spell-caster blushed, flustered, “K-Keh! It wasn’t a big deal; I was just passing through!” she explained, defensive.

“Yes...just passing through.”

Moroha froze at the deadly calm tone. Cringing, the teen glanced slowly at her mother, flinching at the angered glare the older woman was shooting her.

Oh crap.

Turning back towards her slightly confused patient, Kagome adapted a cheery smile and clapping her hands together.

“Well, I believe that’s enough for now! Why don’t you go and get some rest, dear, and then we’ll get up bright and early tomorrow to take you home! That sound good?” the woman asked, her tone motherly and upbeat.

The girl nodded, getting up and taking a few steps towards one of the beddings close by. Before she got there though, the young brunette turned her head to look back at her temporary caretakers.

“Miss Pretty Lady, Miss Demon Lady? Really, thank you for saving me. I was really scared,” the child thanked them for the hundredth time, her words more confident and assured.

Moroha’s eyebrow twitched in annoyance, “Demon Lady?”

“Hey kid! We have names!” the spell-casting quarter-demon exclaimed, aggravated.

“Moroha!” Kagome scolded, her message clear.

Don’t dig yourself deeper into the hole you're already in, missy.

Understanding the silent threat, said ‘missy’ gulped and shut her mouth, not daring to utter another word that could get her in even more trouble than she already was.

Huffing, Kagome once again smiled kindly towards the younger girl.

“Please excuse her, she can be a bit brash. She’s right though; we haven’t introduced ourselves yet, have we? My name’s Kagome Higurashi, and that troublemaker over there is my daughter, Moroha. What is your name?” she asked.

The girl, again, hesitated. Only for a split second, though, as she soon opened her mouth and answered.

“My name is Rin.”

Kagome nodded, standing up and leading her previously unnamed charge over to the bedding, a gentle hand on the small of the brunette girl’s back.

“Well Rin, it's late, and you must be exhausted, so go to sleep and we’ll get you up in the morning. I’m certain your family misses you terribly and won’t be too pleased if you come back to them dead-on-your-feet tired, now will they?”

Rin shook her head as Kagome tucked her in. Unsurprisingly, the young girl was out within seconds, the craziness from the day catching up to her.

Once she was sure her charge was fast asleep, the spell-caster turned back to her nervous daughter, arms on her hips as she frowned at the teenager.

“Mama, I-”

Kagome put a hand up, abruptly cutting off her child’s excuse before it could begin, “Come with me over here. Now.”

Moroha shivered at the serious, deadpanned tone. Her mother only used that tone when she was about to give her a tongue-lashing. No doubt about it, she was in trouble.

Deep trouble.

The mother and daughter pair strode over towards the treeline that surrounded their camp. It was far enough away to where they could talk in private and not disturb their sleeping guest, but close enough so that they could still see and check in on the child if any danger invaded their camp.

Sighing and rubbing her temples, Kagome started, “Moroha, what were you thinking! I told you to not go any farther than you absolutely had to to deliver that medicine, and then you come back with bruises and scratches, blood on your clothes, and an injured child in your arms, telling me there was a mob riot in the village!? And that you used magic to eviscerate a demon’s arm!? Do you know what kind of danger you put yourself in!?”

Moroha winced, trying to keep the bruises on her neck hidden from her mother’s sight. When she had burst through the treeline back into their camp, carrying Rin who’s arm wound was still sluggishly bleeding out onto her and her clothes, her mother took one look at the injured child and sprang into action, having to clean and then stitch up the wound before it could get infected. So focused on ensuring the child be taken care of, Kagome had only noticed in passing the light bruises and few scrapes on her own child’s arms and legs, but they were superficial and were already healing, so Kagome and Moroha paid them no mind. Not when they had a much more serious, much more human injury, to be taken care of.

The demon girl was grateful that Kagome had been more focused on the human child as soon as she saw her. Otherwise, the dark, yellow and purple bruises on her neck from where the demon had a tight hold on her would have instantly been spotted on the older woman’s ‘Mom Radar’, as she liked to call it.

Moroha hadn’t wanted to cause her mother any more worry, so as soon as she was sure Kagome was too preoccupied with the human child to pay any mind to her, Moroha had taken the scarf she wore around her neck and readjusted it to hide the bruises that were still there. With how tight the demon had clutched onto her, the bruises were quite nasty looking, and would take longer for her demonic healing to get rid of them completely.

Of course, this act of secrecy equated to not telling her mother exactly why she’d had to eviscerate that demon’s arm with her magic. She still wasn’t so sure telling the truth about that was a good idea, but she had to say something!

“He gave me no choice, Mama! I had to use magic!” the teen defended, hoping her mother wouldn’t press the issue from there.

“And why was that, Moroha? What did he do to make you blow your cover and the cloaking spell to destroy his arm using magic?”

And of course, her mother pushed the issue.

“Uh…” was all that came out of her mouth, her mind running double-time to come up with a valid, but less severe explanation than what had actually happened.

Unfortunately, the world seemed to be out to get her that day. While Moroha fumbled, trying to make up a random excuse, Kagome had finally noticed the unusual way her daughter’s red scarf covered the quarter-demon’s neck, and had reached her hands out to remove the scarf.

“Wait! Mama, don’t-” Moroha panicked once she felt her mother’s hands moving the scarf.

“Moroha!!! What on Earth happened to your neck!?”

Too late.

Moroha winced when Kagome gently poked and prodded the darkened, abnormally large fingerprint marks on her neck. They weren’t as sore as they were hours ago, telling the inexperienced spell-caster that the healing process was already underway, but with how dark and severe the bruises were, it’d take longer for the bruises to completely vanish from her skin.

Prying her mother’s hands away from her injured flesh, Moroha cringed even more at the panicked expression, as well as the unshed tears, that she could see in her eyes and face.

She hated making her mama look like that.

“These were why I had to use magic; he had me by the neck,” Moroha swallowed, figuring there was no point in lying or trying to come up with another excuse anymore.

The older magic-user stared at the marks that dared to mar her baby’s lightly tanned skin before pulling the demon girl tightly into her arms, embracing her most precious treasure like a life-line, her anger completely forgotten.

Surprised at first, Moroha quickly regained her composure and wrapped her arms around her mother’s waist, embracing her just as tightly as the severity and exhaustion from the day finally caught up with her, and she buried her head into her mother’s shoulder as her small frame shook from her emotional turmoil.

For the first time in a long while, Moroha was desperate for her mother’s comfort.

She didn’t cry, but it finally hit Moroha just how much danger she put herself in that day, and how scared the whole ordeal made her, though she’d never admit it out loud.

Even so, the partial-demon couldn’t find it within herself to regret stepping in to help a child in need, and she expressed that sentiment to her mother, her voice muffled slightly from her face still being buried in her mama’s shoulder.

Kagome sighed and pulled herself and her daughter out of each other’s arms, though she still had a grip on the much more petite girl’s shoulders. Her face was resigned, but understanding as she addressed Moroha.

“I understand, sweetheart, and I would’ve done the exact same thing if I were you. But I’m your mother, and I just worry for you is all. I know you can take care of yourself, and I know you did what you thought was right, but I just can’t help it; I want you to be safe. You’ll understand one day when your a mother,”

Kagome grinned when Moroha blushed at the last part.

Moroha coughed awkwardly, shuffling her feet as she looked away from her mother’s grinning face, and Kagome had to stifle a giggle at just how familiar Moroha’s countenance was.

“She’s truly her father’s daughter, that’s for sure…”

“So, um...are we good?” Moroha asked, nervous despite herself.

Taking pity on her poor child, Kagome smiled and looped an arm around her daughter’s shoulder as they walked back away from the trees and led her to their own beddings for the night.

“Yup, we’re good.”

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

“You wished to speak with me, Father?” InuYasha asked, bowing respectfully before the Emperor and the rest of his family.

The second he entered the room, InuYasha sensed the tension in the air. His family all had grim expressions upon their faces, save for his mother who had a clearly worried look upon her soft features.

The feeling of dread in the pit of his stomach only intensified when he noticed Sesshomaru and his twin daughters clenching their clawed hands into fists, enough to draw rivlets of blood from all three of them. Sesshomaru’s eyes were also bleeding a light pink, telling InuYasha that whatever the issue was, it was enough to rile up the normally stoic demon lord that he was holding back from transforming.

But the most telling, and ultimately the most concerning, indicator was the absence of his young, cheerful adoptive niece.

InuYasha’s mouth went dry.

“Where’s Rin?” he asked, fear creeping into his heart.

“Missing,” his father simply stated.

A reverberating growl from the Emperor's eldest son rent the air in the room at the word.

“We need you, Sestuna, and Kouga to go and search for her; try to scent her out,” Touga continued, his tone authoritative and resolute like the leader he was.

InuYasha, stone-faced, kneeled on one knee before his father and family, head bowed as he addressed them.

“I will not rest until she is found and safe, Your Highness.” the half-demon general vowed, determination clear in his voice.

The current Emperor and Inu no Taisho nodded, eyeing his Setsuna imploringly. Catching her grandfather’s gaze, the half-demon princess nodded back and stood up, taking her naginata with her as she stepped off the raised platform to her uncle’s side.

“I have already sent a messenger to retrieve Kouga; he will meet you at the front gate. Now go,” the Emperor commanded firmly, to which both general and princess nodded sagely.

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

“InuYasha!”

InuYasha and Setsuna turned at the call, seeing his half-brother striding up to him with a serious glare.

“Father, what is it?” Setsuna asked, her tone deadpanned like her father’s often was.

The future Emperor stopped before his daughter and brother, his gaze steady but no less imposing.

“I urge you, little brother, to not be your stupid, impulsive self with this matter. It does, afterall, concern my daughter,”

Normally, such a reminder would cause InuYasha to roll his eyes and respond with a smartass retort.

But this time, InuYasha knew the severity of the situation, and he could easily spot the worry in his half-brother’s golden eyes.

They were the eyes of a father, worried for the whereabouts of his child.

Something InuYasha was sure he was never going to experience.

He nodded, his face grave and resolute.

“You have my word, Sesshomaru, that I will find your daughter and bring her home,”

The young lord glanced over at Setsuna, his niece catching his gaze.

“Both of them,” InuYasha concluded.

The older demon stared down at his brother, as though assessing the half-demon’s sincerity of his promise, before giving a single nod of acceptance.

With that, the two half-demons turned and made their way to the front gate, set and determined to bring back their loved one.

To be Continued....

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

A/N: Hope you guys enjoyed it!

Tagging: @misteria247 @loveanime89 @xfangheartx @keichanz @holi-holy @jgomz92 @lostinfantasyworlds @born-for-eachother @littlestuffstohide @nat-the-cat-123 @cnderpaws @mymidnightnightmare @butterflyhufflepuff @bluehawaiicat @pinkweirdsunsets @sangoslays @disneysooner @blairex @shinidamachu @thisisthebesticando @squeep123 @redflamesofpassion @lavendertwilight89 @sailorbabydoll92

Let me know if I missed anybody or you want to jump on the tag train for any of my InuYasha fanfictions!

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anxiouslyfred · 3 years

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In The Nightmare Together

Summary: Virgil shares his dreams with his soulmate and while he never talks about them they do, and happen to be one of his friends. There’s just a tiny bit of avoidance where Virgil does not want to mention this to them at all.

TW: Murder description, Nightmares

/\/\

Virgil had always been scared by the dreams he had. Whether they were actual nightmares that came from his own mind or the bizarre creations his soulmate dreamt of, they were unsettling and left him with hundreds of things to worry about.

He'd stopped talking about his dreams fairly young, and had seen the schools counsellor through out his time there, just trying to avoid being terrified of any situation the dreams made seem plausible happening. Once, after finishing schooling and he was with a professional therapist, they'd tried researching something from a dream together to see if it helped and found it only made things worse.

Instead they'd now focus on distinguishing the dreams that came from himself and the ones from his soulmate. It was helping actually, because Dr Picani could help Virgil work through the fears he had coming up in dreams to reduce how frightening they were, while making points about the emotional tones of his soulmates dreams, and how that suggested they perceived the things that happened in their dreams.

The one thing Picani couldn't help with beyond suggesting he simply mentions it when he has a chance was that Virgil knew with full certainty who his soulmate was. They'd talk about their dreams all the time around the group of friends Virgil had been pulled into by Patton, and every time Virgil knew exactly what could happen next.

He just couldn't bring himself to say something. What if his soulmate was disappointed in him, or dismissed all the fears that permeated his thoughts and his dreams? Worse than that, what if they realised he had known for ages and had never mentioned it, or spoken about his own dreams? They could think Virgil was ashamed of his, or worse that he didn't want to be their soulmate, when really all he wanted was to be able to be pulled along in the tide of his soulmates energy and confidence.

Really, Virgil was already resolute he'd just carry on being Remus's friend through the years and never mention their connection. It happened often enough that soulmates wouldn't meet that there was no real force pushing him to confess beyond societies belief everyone needed a life partner and who better than the one the universe declared for you?

The latest dream he could remember had definitely come from Remus. It had felt relaxed, and focused on things like putting the knives away as they were thrown towards them, or just how the blood splatters could have happened in the bathroom when they were next aware of being on a rooftop.

Virgil thought it was a bit tame considering the dreams they'd had when an aquarium first opened in the town, and was already curious over just how Remus would connect the scenes when telling it to their friends. It definitely seemed like one that wouldn't get identified as a dream before they began, passing it off as a ghost story just to scare Patton and Roman that little bit more. At least being aware of what happened in the stories stopped Virgil being included on the list of people Remus tried to scare.

“Oh, now my Precious Skelly is here, I can tell you all this awesome story I heard last week.” Remus declared as soon as Virgil made his way over to them in the cafe.

“Sounds ominous, did you really need everyone here to start telling it?” He quipped back, heading to the counter for a drink before he sat down.

The rest of the group hadn't paused their conversation with Remus's call beyond glancing up to wave at Virgil so it was more likely they just hadn't felt like arguing through all the tangents and diversions the others made to try and avoid hearing his stories. There was the small possibility that Logan had been the one to suggest waiting as a delay to avoid watching Patton's reactions a second time though.

“Yeah, like once there was this guy who like really really pissed off his ex on the flats on Grimsby Drive. Literally the ex chased him through the house throwing knives at him on the day he was actually meant to be moving out. The best thing was though, the ex didn't own the knives anyway, so instead of like trying to get to an escape route this bloke was just constantly catching the knives and racing into the kitchen to put them away.” Remus began, speaking loud enough that all their friends conversations stopped, along with a few from the surrounding tables.

Roman looked like he was about to speak up, but Remus was already bouldering on after his dramatic pause. “Real neat freak, I guess. Personally, I'd be more likely to throw the knives back at someone attacking me like that, but stabbing them into a knife block while making eye contact is definitely a mood. Not that glaring down maniacs actually works. Apparently the ex caught up to him in the bathroom. The blood scatters were drips along the floor, note even smudged by someone moving through them, but the body wasn't even there. You'll never guess where they found him?” Remus was bouncing in their seat describing the scene, looking around at everyone as though expecting them to make guesses.

“If he's a proud fighter surely he emerged the victor of their spat and there was no body to be found, only the police arriving to take his attacker away.” Roman claimed.

Patton perked up at the suggestion, not so subtly looking for a way to end the story. “You know that might be one of the few things I can see police being needed for. They use like a million times too much force in most scenarios the news reports them arriving in. Good for the guy though, it's important to get help when needed.”

“That's not what happened though!” Remus groaned, flinging their arms behind them. “Come on, guess where the body was found!”

“Actually Patton, the police could still escalate that scenario beyond what's necessary. What would be best for someone attacking in such a way as this would be attempting to disarm them and calm the attacker down. Historically, the police have taken a much more violent response to these scenarios than they should, causing harm or possibly death to uninvolved parties on occasion.” Logan carried on with the discussion of police but Virgil could see Remus would snap and try to bring their focus back to the story soon.

Instead he spoke up, shaking his head. “So how did the guy get onto the roof, Remus? Come on, carry on the story and we can argue the morality of the police force later.”

Virgil wasn't sure why that sentence had everyone turning to him for a moment. It had been a question related to the story so... Remus hadn't mentioned the rooftop scene yet so he shouldn't have known about it.

“Do you know the story too, Virgil? Remus never mentioned the murder happening upon the roof of a building.” Logan asked. He'd blinked a couple times, clearly repeating the conversation in his head to double check was was said.

Before Virgil could agree and move conversation on his wrist was being grabbed as he got dragged through the doors to the cafe. “ SOULMATE TIME BITCHES! YOU GUYS CAN HEAR THE REST OF MY DREAM LATER!” Remus screamed over their shoulder, even bouncier than before, and almost pulling Virgil straight into a lamppost.

Virgil's mind was spinning: Was Remus going to get some revenge for not mentioning it earlier? Demand details of the story and ignore that it was clearly a shared dream?

“So where do you want to have our first date? Golf course? Break into the mansions on the edge of town? Abandoned warehouse? Haunted house at the end of your road?” Remus began rattling off ideas before pausing when they glanced over to Virgil. “Nope, turn those thoughts off. I get it, bringing up dreams when you literally never speak about yours would be awkward and we've had like zero time alone in all the years we've been friends. You didn't want all eyes on you, and that wouldn't get help from your anxiety either. It's all good. Now come on, Nightmare Fuel, we've got a date to go on and I might steam roll everyone into hearing about our dreams but I'm not rolling over this decision!”

“But, we've known each other for ages and I never said. You aren't angry?” He had to ask, blinking, but letting his feet start taking them towards his home.

Remus shook their head, almost as wildly as a dog would after getting out of a river. “Course not. Date Where Now?”

“The haunted house? Do you actually know how to get in there?” Virgil decided, letting the conversation swap subjects as they walked away.

#dukexiety #soulmate au #virgil sanders #remus sanders #cw murder #cw nightmares

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mariposalass · 3 years

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Sora’s Time to Shine

youtube

Summary: Mari is already not putting too much expectations going into watching the Final Smash Presentation when someone close to her besides Kirby and Edelgard’s beloved Professor pops out of nowhere in said Presentation. All hell breaks loose (but in a good way).

Setting: Mari and co.’s house in Daly City, California; October 5, 2021

Notes: I was pretty behind in seeing the reveal since I was pretty tired when it came out and I had to check a friend’s post on Plurk to make sure that it was not all for the jokes before watching it on Gamespot and writing this story down. And yes, the Byleth in my S/I verse is the female version in case anyone is curious. And yes, it took me until around 8 AM to write this up. Featuring Luther Vandross. Here is an ask I made on Sora’ behest during a F/O takeover long before he got confirmed recently. #SakuraiHasReachedtheImpossibleDream #Sora4Smash

Tags: Super Smash Bros. Ultimate, Super Smash Bros., Swift Keyblader, Smash Reveal, Sakurai has reached the impossible dream!, Sora for Smash, #Sora4Smash

“Hurry Mari, you’re about to miss it!” Kairi is dragging me out onto the sofa to see the final Smash Ultimate Presentation on the living room pretty early before plopping ourselves onto the sofa.

“Look, Kairi, guys. I hate to be a party pooper, but I have no clue about who could it be,” I try to be realistic in my views.

“Well, at this point, my beloved, it could be anybody from the video game world,” my dear Philip chimes in while trying to reassure me, “Besides, as soon as it is done, we shall try to reply back to this non Smash invitation that El had found in the mail today.”

“Huh, is that correct, El dear?” I asked my regal adopted daughter for confirmation.

“Why yes of course, Mother,” she replies as she passes me the invitation, “I believe that a friend of yours has sent us one, but I didn’t want to open it immediately since this is addressed to you.”

“Okay then, I will get to read it and reply back once the Presentation is over and see who gets to fight with Kirby and Professor Byleth,” I smiled back at her.

“I couldn’t believe that there was a leak that just came out before this Presentation video and it is about music. Who was that dense enough to do it at a time like this?” Riku mumbles as he gets the video streaming on the Nintendo Direct page in his laptop.

“You know, Riku, sometimes people can act very idiotic at times, so there isn’t much we can do besides ignoring and avoiding that as much as possible,” Harry sighs as he is bottle feeding and gently rocking Serena as she had cried a while ago to be bottle fed.

“Guys, have you guys seen Sora lately?” Issa asks us while carrying Chris in her arms, “I haven’t seen him in the last few days. He didn’t even reply back to either my or Kairi’s texts and calls. Do you think he’s off to visit Jack and Sally in Halloween Town? It’s nearing Halloween soon.”

“That’s really a good question, Issa,” Ahk agrees, “I had given up trying to find him by calling over on the phone since last Thursday. All I have gotten from it were many ‘The subscriber could not be reached’ messages.”

Even Riku and Kairi are in a loss for words as they turn to each other and wonder what is up with our friend lately. Did he just went poof without us knowing? Kirby always informs us through his many Poyos that he would have to head off to Smash whenever a new tourney starts or a newcomer arrives and Edelgard’s class often gets shorter class schedules or early dismissals whenever Professor Blyeth gets to fight in Smash: she is the professor handling the Black Eagles class. Sometimes even El, Petra and Dorothea along with a few others (and yes, that includes the Gatekeeper) would come over to Smash to spectate from the sidelines and support their beloved Professor.

There is a long silence when the Nintendo Switch title card plays in the laptop and Karina directs us all to watch the screen to see many clips featuring many Smashers in the current tournament before it transitions to Sakurai-san in the studio explaining about the video as well as showcasing the Mii Fighter costumes.

“Hey look, Isabelle the Dog’s demon slaying friend from Bethesda is now coming to Smash to rip and tear up the competition!” Moana screams when the Doomguy Mii Gunner costume appears.

“Good for him; I know that many fans really did want him to be in Smash, though the costume is a nice addition,” Issa agrees. “That now makes three Bethesda franchises represented in the costumes.”

“Even the Octolings and Judd the Cat got hats based on them too,” I chime in as well.

“Oh hey, guys! Sakarui’s about to reveal the last fighter for the Second Fighter’s Pass, so keep down it and don’t expect too much,” Karina informs as Sakurai transitions to the main event and we all stay silent and stay glued to our seats.

The screen turns black before the usual Smash logo opening shows up, but instead of the usual zoom in, it then turns into a flaming Smash logo with all the Smashers up until Kazuya Mishima (yeah, the guy who tried to drop Kirby off a cliff) looking at it and covered in the shadows. Did MH decided to get them to show up in there and meet the last fighter in the dark? Probably, I bet that he might be keeping it as a surprise and possibly even conserving electricity at the same time. Then cut to Inkling Girl looking in awe with the Smash logo reflecting onto her pupils as a nice ode to the first reveal trailer for the game/tourney, I honestly love this shot.

Wait a minute, the logo turns into stars and the next scene shows everyone frozen in place as toy-like ambiios?!? How is it even possible? Well, it does certainly confirmed once again that the video game version of the tourney is set in a world of make believe after all. I could swear that a lot of people crying their eyes out as they are watching this. It looks like this is the end of one great video game series about mascots fighting among each other. Or is it? Because the camera is aiming at Mario as if he looks like he’s trying to take a nap while standing up.

Riku then proceeds to mumble some words to me incoherently that something big is coming the moment Mario wakes up to see a glowing light to see the last remaining flame glowing on the floor, which I do agree with him. Suspicious right? Oh God, Mario no! Please don’t touch the fire for everyone’s sanity. Wait, hold on a second: that isn’t not just fire that he just grabbed on and then tossed it into the sky like a boomerang: the mystery object looks like a Keyblade and there’s that Mickey keychain! Yep, that’s a Keyblade alright. Could it be...

I could recognize that beam of light that Keyblades often produce whenever they lock and unlock Keyholes to other worlds, so does everyone in the room. Riku and Kairi hugged onto each other as if we’re about to brace for an emergency (Karina and Moana also did the same), Ahk stares at the screen to see if he’s not imagining things all the sudden, Issa has her mouth drop in shock, Chris and Serena didn’t cry throughout this entire presentation, Harry gasps and nearly drops Serena’s bottle, Philip turns to me for answers while Edelgard begins to sweatdrop in concern.

No words are exchanged as the light grows and shines brighter before it proceeds to shoot itself away from the Keyblade to reveal a Keyhole on another part of the room. It then glows bright within as the camera switches back to the rest of frozen Smashers as the light begins to fill the room and revives Link, Cloud, Incineroar and Mewtwo as they all gawk at it as it reveals something from the World of Light with the orchestral rendition of Simple and Clean playing in the background. And that’s when it hits us right at the gut: the familiar spiky brown hair poking out from that Keyhole.

“What!?!” Kairi shouts as the Keyhole ‘spits’ out Sora from the World of Light.

“H-h-he actually got in, for real?” Riku squeaks up.

“Oh my…” I gasp in pure shock as we watch the whole thing played out.

“Sakarui finally did it?” Issa adds in to the discussion.

“Well, it’s about time that they managed to get his darn behind into the tourney,” Karina seconds in.

Soon enough, Sora finally wakes up from his nappy time and takes notes from Peter Pan and Tinkerbell as he flies around, sprinkling fairy dust all over the other Smashers, before landing on the floor and the Keyblade flying back to his hand.

“Damn it, Sora!” I scream as the splash screen pops in.

“Kai, your boy has finally made it big time!” Moana shakes Kairi in congratulation rather rapidly that it nearly gives my lil sis a dizzying spell.

“Moana, please don’t make Kairi that dizzy,” Harry had to tell her that.

“Whoops! Sorry Kairi,” she apologizes to her which she accepts.

So with that, we switch back to Sakurai going in depth with Sora’s moveset after he discussed about the Kingdom Hearts games and world. And he has gotten 4 costume changes, man Sora, that’s a big wardrobe you’re bringing in, oh wait, he even got the Timeless River costume too. That makes it 5 then.

“Oh gods, Sakurai is making us suffer by watching Sakurai using Sora to beat up everyone,” Ahk tells us as the Sora moveset showcase begins.

“No kidding,” Harry muses as we see Sora beating everyone in Battlefield.

“Whoa, they went for Sealing the Keyhole instead of having Trinity Force with Donald and Goofy? What a bummer,” Karina bemoans in dismay.

“Well, you know modern Disney: too overprotective of their IPs,” Philip reminds her.

“Oh new stage, what could it be?” Riku gleefully chimes in before they reveal Hollow Bastion as the stage, “Whoa, Hollow Bastion. I never thought that you will return again.”

Then the stage changes into Dive to the Heart and it had Riku and Kairi in the stained glass in one, Riku being the main focus of the second one, Roxas in the middle of the third, Xion in the fourth, Terra for the fifth, a sleepy Ven in the sixth, and Aqua’s in the seventh.

“Pretty!” I complimented the look of each stained glass.

“Quite impressive I will admit,” El agrees with me too.

Then Sakurai begins a playthrough with Sora facing Cloud and Sephiroth in Hollow Bastion, for a while, we all thought that he’s going to be a goner with Cloud and Sephiroth beating him up in the Stamina match but then the tides begin to turn in his favor after Sephy lost his full stock and with Sora having to take down Cloud next. When he did, the scene begins to go into a slow white fade out with a Game!

“Alright! Sora did it! He defeated both Cloud and mean old Sephy,” Riku cheers on.

“Woo! Go Sora!” me, Kairi, Moana, and Karina screams aloud.

“That was brilliant!” Harry agrees before he turns to Serena, “Did you hear? Uncle Sora managed to defeat two opponents in a Smash Ultimate playthrough.”

“9 songs is better than nothing at all,” Issa observes, “It would be a licensing nightmare to talk to Disney if they can borrow a couple of songs from them and they straight up refuse to assist, oh well. Oooh, a Dearly Beloved Swing arrangement, nice! I better get that save file on the Switch prompto!”

“And check out that Spirit Board: Aunt Kairi has a Spirit of herself,” Edelgard informs us as the Spirit Board for KH is revealed.

“Oh gee, never thought that it could ever happen, but thanks,” she blushes.

“Hey, I got one as well, same with Axel, Xion, Roxas, Aqua, Terra and Ven,” Riku joins in, “Marina is so going to be happy to see her boyfriend as a Spirit. She will probably try to get him real soon.”

“You bet it right, Riku, you bet it right,” I nod and agree with that last statement.

“Oh hey, he’s going to be ready within a few weeks’ time,” Karina speaks up, “Neat! The roster is now complete.”

“Even Steve and Alex have amiibos of themselves being made, that’s even more wonderful,” Ahk takes note of it, “I’m pretty sure that Sora will have one of his own along with Pyra, Mythra, that jerk who tried to threw Kirby off a cliff, and even Sephiroth soon.”

“WHAT?!? Kingdom Hearts are coming to the Switch too!?!” I am surprised to hear the news as Sakurai reveals this new information, that is so mind-blowing.

When it fades to black then to the Ultimate mural, the camera then goes for the space between Ganondorf and Dark Samus to fill in Sora’s spot before panning back. Man, this Presentation is long and is finally ending, thank God; it must be tiring to sit down and watch a nearly hour long video as Sakurai showcases the screenshots he has made and showed off in Twitter. Man, so many memories and montages. And the achievements, wow, that is a lot of them, it will be a game feat that I don’t think it will be broken for a long time.

Man, I will miss the presentations and Sakurai’s corny jokes for sure. I wish him a nice deserving break from all the game development for sure as he gives thanks to everyone from the devs to the players to the people prompting the game and ends it off with a heartfelt goodbye as it fades to back into the full reveal trailer.

“Oh gee, I’m going to miss the Smash Presentations,” Kairi sighs, “I can’t believe that we’re coming to an end.”

“Man, it’s finally over,” Riku gasps in remark as the full trailer plays out, “I don’t think that there will be a game like Ultimate for a very long time. That’s for certain.”

“I agree, Riku. It’s to going to be a tough act to follow up on,” I add in before I look up at the ceiling and murmur some words, “It’s been a long time coming, Sora. You truly deserve that last spot, you really do. Have fun in the tourney and Smash Mansion, buddy.”

Sora is Finally Here!

The End

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hermitcraftheadcanons · 4 years

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Zombie Apocalypse AU Masterpost

"There are a few groups that aren't aware of each other's existence. (Architechs, NHO, Convex, ect.) The NHO are made up of all men from millitaries across the globe. Cleo isn't a zombie either, she is a zombie whisperer. She can communicate slightly with zombies and they aren't usually negotiable."

(Paraphrased,) from @creator0fchaos' Zombie Apocalypse AU entry for The Follower Input AU.

Headcanons to start us off:

-Convex were two men from a small buisness. Jellie is also around but she's injured and is mostly carried around by Scar.

-Etho got bit pretty early on and everyone in the NHO knows they're gonna have to do something about it but they're putting it off. Etho seems fine.

-Bdubs is slowly going completely feral. (Possible reference to season 5's jungle feral?) DocM joked he had rabies and the two got into a fight.

-Iskall lost his eye after Mumbo accidentally slashed him with a knife while trying to protect Grian from a hoarde. Iskall ended up getting lumped in with the Architech group because Mumbo feels super guilty about it.

-Xisuma and Keralis came into contact with the NHO for a bit. Keralis and Bdubs nearly became friends but Beef and Doc scared em away. Angst.

-The zombies fear False.

-XB originally planned to just stay in his house and not go out. He was prepared, okay? He had tinned food to last him at least a decade, zombie proof armour and god knows what else supplies. His friend, Hypnotizd, is fleeing to there because he knows XB knows what he's doing.

-Wels wears armour because it's the best he had. Same with Biffa and Xisuma. In this AU, they probably wouldn't be wearing armour if not given the circumstances.

-Jevin has turned this into a game to kill as many zombies as possible.

-Impulse, Tango and Zedaph are all just having a good time trying to survive in the woods. Their main goal is to open a tin of beans Zed has but they don't have a tin opener.

-Rendog found a tin of dog food while scavenging. He was hungry and ate it. He now has an addiction to tinned dog food.

-Wels wears medieval armour in the zombie au because at one point he was trapped in a museum by a horde and like, the armour was technically there. On display. No one was using it.

-Etho wears the mask as kind of a mental reminder not to bite his friends.

-Joe and Stress are hanging with Cleo and even if the small group isn’t the best equipped or prepared, they have thrived thanks to Cleo’s ability to whisper to zombies. It might not stop the zombies but it buys the group time to escape.

–Zombie!Etho is hiding the fact that he’s turning, if not already turned into a zombie, from the rest of the NHO because he loves being with his friends. The problem is that it’s getting harder every day to control himself and he’s constantly fighting between telling the rest of them about it, and having them put him out of his misery to keep them safe, or just keep hiding it, afraid that one day it’ll be too late he won’t be able to control himself and bite them all.

-Someone gets like a really bad case of the flu, this is problem because usually survivors have to stay in the move consistently to survive and that’s hard when someone is really sick, it also bad because all pharmacies have been raided and there’s no medicine.

-Grian originally came from Sam and Taurtis's group but due to Sam's insanity, Grian pulls away and went surviving on his own. That when Mumbo came to photo and knowing that he won't survive the zombie wasteland alone, Grian took it as his task to convince Mumbo make a partnership with him.

-Joe was playing D&D when the outbreak started, and Cleo was in his group. They treat it as a game sometimes, though they toned it down a bit when Stress joined because she was still grieving Iskall. Stress makes them stay around where she lost Iskall, but Joe and Cleo don't mind because she has a base set up there.

-For no fault of his own, the nHo crumbles while doc is in control. They had been losing members for a while but when beef, Bdubs, etho, and doc part ways it’s the draw the broke the camels back, so doc is the only one left of the nho, the rest of them, having either left or died. Doc blames himself for everything going so wrong.

-For the zombie AU because nobody's representing my boy X: Xisuma is known as a master at evading the zombies (he can fight them well if needed but he is best at avoiding incidents altogether). He claims to wear the mask for practical reasons, but what the others don't know is that it hides how terrified he is. He hides his fear because he doesn't want people to lose confidence in him, but getting turned and losing control of his mind is his worst nightmare.

-TFC’s gone for a bunker theme for s6+s7, so maybe, he finds a nHo member, and just drags them down into his bunker, probably chewing them out for walking around alone?

-For the zombie au is ethos mask like a medical one, or was he in a kakashi cosplay for some reason and kept it because all the pockets were practical and then started wearing the mask because he got infected.

-After Stress and Iskall reunite, Joe and Cleo join the Architechs. False joins them after seeing Cleo whisper to the zombies and realizing that the group severely lacks fighters. I need the hermits to (at least mostly) get together!

-TFC is obviously a disaster prepper who has a fully furnished bunker that can house a lot of people. He has been broadcasting this to other survivors using a radio. Unfortunately, he lives in the middle of nowhere and it is a trek to get there, but the Vault (as he calls it) is self-sustaining. (I know this is obvious, but nobody has done anything with TFC yet, and that's a shame)

-Even though he’s scared about not being alert enough to protect his team, Xisuma hides his sickness, which is easy with the helmet, because he’s the leader and he can’t be weak. Due to the pain of the flu and the heat of fever staying trapped inside his helmeted eventually falls to his knees and breaks down.

-Mumbo is wearing a suit because he was on his way to a job interview when the outbreak started, he just never bothered to change clothes.

-Etho used to love making up little tunes, and that hasn't changed since he was bitten. Nevertheless, the others in his group haven't heard him make music since. He blames a lack of instruments because of being on the run from zombies. The morning after he left, though, they find an old recorder where his sleeping bag was, and once they hit play they're greeted with songs in a familiar style, backed by improvised instruments.

Even without saying anything they *know* what had happened, and the recorder is taken along on their journey to a safe haven. Sometimes, when the feeling of missing their friend gets too much, they put on the music in the evening and just allow themselves to cry.

-Well, i was thinking maybe stress was a loner, but like, not completely alone, she was with someone else, probably Cleo or Iskall, but they got bit, she felt too bad to kill them so she wanders around with a zombie friend on a madeup leash, sorry if it sounds sad but i like angst and it seemed like a good headcanon -🐿️

-TFC is the one to get to Beef and break down the wall he had built up after a while of wandering alone after breaking off from the nHo. He finds Beef fighting a group of zombies and after observing how violently Beef was hacking down the zombies, TFC did not see a hardened fighter, but a broken man and went to talk with him.

-Alternate timeline idea when grian was still traveling with Sam and tortoise. Sam end up doing something that results in grian and tortoise getting bitten, because of that Sam leaves them. Now grian is not a normal zombie he doesn’t crave human flesh but rabbit flesh because he’s so hell-bent on getting revenge for what Sam did to him and tortoise, tortoise ends up tagging along. Cleo ends up finding them and discover their not normal zombies and inviting them to stay with her group.

-For the zombie apocalypse AU, RE: Cleo and Joe's DND game - imagine them going into a fight and just screaming "ROLL INITIATIVE!"

-Ok but imagine if like that one anon said, grian was already a zombie but like, one that only wants animals. I imagine they could probably get him to behave normally and imagine the mumbo turning angst but grian is already a zombie and just helps him not loose himself.

-For the Zombie Au, instead of killing Mumbo before he turns, the group locks him in a room and leave him there in hopes that they can bring him back once theres a cure. Whether or not, Mumbo wants to be saved is up to you. If Cleo's still in the group then you could have her "talk" to Zombie Mumbo for bonus angst.

-After finding out that Etho's still out there, Beef becomes more determined than ever to help find a cure. In the bunker he often ends up buzzing around Scar and Cub, desperate for something to do to help. It can get a bit awkward but they understand he's just desperate to see his friend again and are usually able to provide small tasks to help him keep his mind busy (with something other than worrying for Etho) while they continue working toward a cure.

(All those above in red are from our community's lovely Anons!)

-Vintagebeef was the first to notice something was off about Etho. He asked Etho about it but Etho assured him he was fine. Beef asked, 'what if you spread it to the other people in group?' Etho claimed that 'if it was contagious without physical contact, everyone would have caught it by now.'

-Speaking of Vintage Beef, he feels the most lonely and hopeless out of all the NHO members. Etho is probably gonna die from being a zombie soon. Bdubs and Doc are always at each other's throats and Beef fears one of them may accidentally kill the other. He's terrified that he may be the only one left.

-Hypnotizd is the most likely to be bit next. Dude’s running to XB’s house basically defenseless until he gets there, we have no clue how far he has to travel.

(-@tomcatacaphe.)

-You could very easily bring s5 nho angst into this au... Etho leaves to protect his friends from himself, Beef leaves because he can't bare to see his friends fight so much, Bdubs and Doc get in a fight and Bdubs storms off, and Doc is left to try and lead the nho by himself (since you said it's a kind of paramilitary thing here). Ouch.

-Knowing Mumbo's love for bunkers and the dragon bro bunker from s6, the architechs have probably settled somewhere underground to have a somewhat normal life. And, given the combined tech prowess of Iskall and Mumbo, they could easily rig up defence systems to help.

-in regards to that ask about X getting ill, maybe that's where Keralis joins him! He's totally the type to stay with you when sick! :D

-Continuing from that anon, if I may. So far we have Griam, Mumbo, Iskall, Stress, Joe, Cleo, and False all living together... The chaos xD ! You could even bring in hermit challenges as smth they make to, y'know, lighten the mood :D

(-@rebloging-extravaganza.)

-OOF I never thought about Taurtis wandering alone but that's sad. Iskall was also originally with Stress. They are wandering together until a snow storm separates them. Iskall finds Mumbo and Grian and then Mumbo thought he was a zombie cause this man just came out of nowhere. Grian and Mumbo took him in. When Iskall came back to the place where him and Stress gets separated, they saw each other again. What's the first thing he did? He hugged the hell outta her.

-Stress was tired cause the next thing she knew after the storm is that she’s alone. So, she thought for the worst, she thought Iskall was dead. She made a small shelter in the place, tamed a lot of dogs and even made a gravestone for Iskall.

When Stress saw him, her first thought was to get the weapon from the sheath and attack but Iskall started talking. The next thing she knew was she is crying and hugging him tight.

(-@penumbra-rui.)

-After Beef leaves the nHo, he becomes quite a loner. He gets a nickname from other groups even though they don’t know who he is: the Butcher. He gets the name because when groups are being seized down by dozens of zombies, Beef comes in and kills the zombies - every single one - with only his token bloodied apron left behind, waving on a stick. He has hundreds of those aprons and is never seen killing the zombies by the besieged groups.

-When Impulse runs away, he runs into BDubs while in a run down brick building with part of it having been blown up in what looks like a plane bomb. The building seems to have been a local demolition business known simply as ‘Boomers.’

-Before the apocalypse began, Scar was an upper level agent of the FBI tasked with protecting top level cancer researchers across the United States. One of those top cancer researchers was patient 0 and was the original discoverer of the zombie infection (patient 0 was not a Hermit). However, Scar believes it’s his fault for not having intervened when he could have. It’s now his mission to find a way to fix it. He comes across business mogul Cub, who may have the funds to help.

-https://hermitcraftheadcanons.tumblr.com/post/618407386827423744/hypno-has-been-living-with-xb-for-the-last-two XB and Hypno meet: A post too long to copy paste here.

(-@creator0fchaos.)

-After Tango explodes the beans Impulse claims he’s leaving. Z and T think he just kidding but when they wake up the next morning Inpulse is gone. Now Zed and Tango are on a mission to find impulse while also terrified that he’s been bit.

-Continuation of the impulse leaves thing, tango and Zed find and save him just in time. They all reunite and are happy. The problem is that Zed was bit in the process, for now he’s binding it, because tango and impulse were so happy to be reunited and zed didn’t want to ruin it.

-Zed never ends up telling his friends that he was bit, the figure out themselves a few days after it happens. At first they’re mad that zed hid it from them, telling him how he could have turned and hurt them. But a minute late they break down in tears realizing what the bit means for them all. They will discuss what to do in the morning but for now they will grieve.

-Even more of the zit story: In the morning they decide to keep zed around until he really starts turning, they will then kill him so he’s not a zombie, zed protests this wanting them to kill him now, fearing for the other’s safety, but he’s actually really happy to have a bit longer with his friends. Impulse feels guilty because this never would have happened if he hadn’t left, tango also feels guilty because if he never exploded the beans, then impulse wouldn’t have left and zed would be fine.

(-@lookitsspacekween.)

-Xisuma is known as a master at evading the zombies (he can fight them well if needed but he is best at avoiding incidents altogether). He claims to wear the mask for practical reasons, but what the others don't know is that it hides how terrified he is. He hides his fear because he doesn't want people to lose confidence in him, but getting turned and losing control of his mind is his worst nightmare.

-Xisuma could be that person who gets the flu from an earlier submission! It would really scare him because of not being as alert or functional to avoid the zombies. I feel like he doesn't have a set group of people he stays with, so someone would probably find him holed up somewhere with a bad fever and decide to stay with him.

-If Mumbo ever gets bitten his zombie form is his cursed skin from after he sold his bits, it NEEDS to be lol.

-I came here to post immune!Rendog only to find that someone already did! Anyway, Ren is immune, which is good because the man gets bitten A LOT (the diggity dawg is not the best fighter). I feel like he gets lost and comes across the NHO base, and Doc won't let him in at first because he's covered in bites. He probably puts him in a containment cell out of typical Doc paranoia but eventually figures it out.

-Doc tried his hardest to be distant with Ren (because he thought he was going to turn/die soon and didn't want to get attached) but Ren just asks questions and talks 24/7 until Doc gives in and talks to him out of loneliness. Doc probably keeps him in containment for a really long time, first for fear of him turning and then because he's afraid Ren will leave (like everyone else left him.)

-Ren is very calm and cheery through the whole containment thing because he FULLY believes this is all a dream. Like, okay, this German robot man says I'm going to die in a week? Cool! Have to remember to write this one down when I wake up. Doc cannot convince him otherwise and it frustrates him to no end (when he does realize it's real though he's going to have a full breakdown.)

-Mumbo focuses in way too hard when he's working and blocks out everything else. If he gets bitten it will be because he was too absorbed in a redstone project and forgot to check his surroundings.

-When Mumbo gets bitten, Grian makes it his duty to comfort him and keep him calm until the end. Iskall, however, is overcome by guilt. He had been out for supplies when it happened; usually it was his job to watch Mumbo's back while he worked, alternating between fighting zombies and giving jokingly snarky commentary on Mumbo's redstone. He definitely blames himself and won't let the others out of his sight afterward.

-A break from angst! Zombie whisperer!Cleo's talents work by communicating with the infection in the zombies' bodies. Immune!Rendog has the infection, it just doesn't affect him in a dangerous way. Therefore, Cleo is now a Ren whisperer. Hilarity ensues.

-Once Xisuma starts feeling a bit better, he organizes his group to dig underground tunnels for people to travel with less chance of zombie attack (construction Keralis is a big help!) The leadership comes naturally to him, and the hard work is a good way of building up his strength again. Working late into the night on the tunnels is also the perfect excuse not to sleep....

-(post-cure). It takes several weeks, but Doc finally manages to find Etho. When he receives the cure his first words are "Thank you" and "I'm so sorry" (like a true Canadian). While his mind is returned to him, some parts of his body are too decayed to be salvaged, but that's no obstacle for Doc. He builds custom cybernetics and eagerly welcomes his old friend back to the land of the living.

(-@shadeswiftdraws.)

-Mumbo, being really good with redstone, obviously has anti-zombie weapons he made himself. One day he goes out scavenging to find Grian fighting zombies armed with only a large hunting knife, a sledgehammer (probably from whatever build he was working on at the time of the outbreak), and his tiny gremlin speed and agility. (-@my-cat-is-a-bastard.)

-One of the Hermits (up to you which one) is somehow immune to the zombie virus. The catch: they don't know until they get bit. Them and the rest of their group is scared and prepares to kill them when the transformation is complete, but it never happens. The scientist of their group does a couple of tests and discovers their immunity!

-I was thinking about it for a bit, and I doesn’t seem like there’s been much done with Ren... (besides eating dog food lol)

-Happy ending time 'cause I can't stand seeing them all turn! Once Doc realizes Ren is immune, they venture out trying to find another group to create a cure. After gathering some/most of the other Hermits, they come across Scar, and they work on and create a cure/vaccine. The rest of the Hermits take it, and maybe they're even able to cure Etho and the other zombified Hermits! (Sorry if this is too cheesy/happy; I just want everything to be okay, y'know?)

-All everyone speaks of are the physical changes, but one must set the record straight: No matter how horrifying the outward changes are, the mental and emotional ones are far worse. Your friend’s behavior will take a turn for the worse. They’ll become more aggressive, more impulsive, less cautious. They’ll start fights for a laugh, they’ll yell and thrash and scream at the mildest inconvenience, their mind will devolve and fade away. By the time you must say your goodbyes, they will no longer be the friend you knew. They will be childish, angry, insane, and horrible in every way. Even if they fight the illness and outer changes, their behavior will still be impacted and subject to change.

Be wary of this if you choose to let your friend live, and prepare not only your body, but your mind, for the worst.

-Patient Zero could be GenerikB.

(-@12u3ie.)

-I feel like team ZIT keeps putting off taking care of Impulse. Like Etho, Impulse just keeps fighting the changes. They all expect him to wither away, fall down and die one day, isn't that how it always goes?, but that's not how the infection works. They don't get sicker and weaker, in fact most of the people who die from one bite actually die from gangrene and/or septic shock. (Human mouths are GROSS.) But our boys don't know this. They've taken good care of his bite, even if it felt pointless at first, and avoided infection, and as a result he's physically completely healed now. So they end up never NEEDING to kill Impulse, but at what cost? He's constantly anxious about losing control. He can barely even sleep, what if it makes him sleepwalk and he bites his friends then? Tango and Zedaph see him changing still. They see his skin getting pale and dull, his eyes growing hollow, even see he's losing a lot of weight, but they put it up to his sleeplessness, to how they have to remind him, almost force him to eat real food. What sort of life does Impulse really have now? Is it really better to just end it? (What if he and Etho meet?)

Sorry, I've just seen the way this subversion of the Zombie Bite = Zombie Dead trope is going with Etho, and I HAD to get bitten!Impulse in on it as well. Now I can't stop thinking about exactly how this virus works, so I'm gonna hit post before I get WAY too into it and make a text wall.

-https://hermitcraftheadcanons.tumblr.com/post/618456845293633536/the-first-thing-you-notice-is-the-bite-it-stings How the virus works. (Tw gore, worms.)

(-@basaltdragon.)

-Bdubs definitely slept through the beginning of the apocalypse and had no idea what was going on for a while. He just kept doing his normal thing until someone told him what was happening. (-@miss-oleum.)

-I saw a post that mentioned Taurtis in the zombie apocalypse au, so I think this idea would be cool? I think from context clues Etho and Beef are kinda traveling together, but what if they run into Pause! Pause is super stoked to finally be around people in this mess (Team Canada, no less!!) but the dread kicks in when he notices the look in Etho's eyes, and how much paler he is than usual. Maybe he even notices the signs before Beef (who prolly def. noticed but is in severe denial about it). (-@853dragons.)

-https://hermitcraftheadcanons.tumblr.com/post/618477192694939648/you-know-what-im-just-going-to-add-my-2-cents-on

-To the surprise (and delight) of everyone in the Bunker, Beef is a deasent Redstoner. He's still a bit rusty at it tho. But he Knows how to work around those dust if he put his mind it. And after the... Insident with Mumbo, they need all the help they can get with the Redstone. And the first time he fix a redstone contraption on his own he said to his spectators (any Hermit of your choice), "What? You thought I was all Beef but no Brains?"

(-@tearosepedall.)

And now, Writing!

-It's the hunger that's the worst. Gnawing and ever-present, no matter what he eats, he can't escape the emptiness that's settled into his stomach. Etho stares dully down at the can someone - probably Beef - had pushed into his hands, before spearing a handful of syrupy fruit and swallowing it. It does little to satiate the hunger crawling through his every being. And why would it? It's not fruit he's hungry for anymore. (Anon.)

-Fear curls around him like an unwanted friend, a fiend of mist and smoke that blankets his nerves and quickens his heart. He stares dully at the scene before him, at the massacre his group had just barely avoided, as an awful storm of what-ifs swirl through his mind. His hands shake. "X?" Someone asks, "Are you okay?" Xisuma sucks in a deep breath, curls his hands into fists, and turns towards Keralis. "I'm fine," he lies. (Anon.)

-"Hello there. If you are listening to this, we are gone and long forgotten. This base of ours is yours to use now. I'm sure there'll still be some supplies and cans of food left-" "Not if I eat them first!" "Gr- Grian! I'm recording!" "I know that, you spoon." Grian took a few steps forward and stuck his face up to the camera lens. "Hi there!" "Grian! This is serious work." "C'mon, we're always serious! What's wrong with a little bit of fun during the zombie apocalypse?" (12u3ie.)

-(Biffa's POV) I met Xisuma a couple weeks ago. He saved my life, and I joined his crew. We're good friends now, and I hope he trusts me. It just seems like there's something off about him, but not in a zombie way. The way he hesitates before saying he's fine, how his eyes widen for just a moment before battle... the way he mumbles in his sleep about an evil counterpart... (12u3ie.)

-Hands corral him, pushing him forward. Mumbo twists and writhes, trying to escape from the iron grip pulling him forward. Where his tongue still capable of forming complex sounds, he would be protesting vehemently. Nowadays, words are harder to come by, too clunky and heavy for his tongue to try. As it is, he can barely even manage the word no. 'I don't want this!' He screams, but only Cleo spares him a glance. Her eyes shine, wet with tears and pity that turns his stomach.

"We'll find a cure," Someone else promises. From a haze of shattered memories, a face forms. It takes another moment for him to remember a name. Grian. His voice is flat, toneless, but edged with iron and a promise. With one final pull, he's dragged into the windowless room, lined with lockers and benches. Mumbo's breath rattles heavily in his chest, as the iron door swings shut behind him. "I'm so sorry." Whispers seep through the thin walls. "I can't believe he bit Ren." (Anon.)

More to be added!

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what-is-your-plan-today · 4 years

Text

Riding High Ch 3: Chicken Wings and Confessions

Chapter Summary: Fliss heads to Franks and Mary’s for a cookout, and they both learn a little bit more about the other’s troubled past.

Chapter Warnings: Bad Language words.

Chapter Pairings: Frank Adler x OFC Fliss Gallagher

A/N: Again, as you will all know I’m a Brit so apologies if too much British horsey lingo slips into this…ASK away if you don’t understand. Tagging all my SSB/CSI readers…if you want in or off the list PLEASE just tell me. This chapter is a bit of a filler, things start getting a bit more interesting in the next one, and then we’ll be diving into the Gifted story line in Chapter 4.

As always I’m a ho for a REBLOG and COMMENT!

Chapter Song: Fighter by Christina Aguilera

Series Masterlist Main Masterlist

“Frank goes out most Fridays, but Saturday we hang out.”” Mary said, explaining about her weekends to Fliss as she sat on the chair with her juice box. Mary had finished her riding lesson roughly 15 minutes ago and they were now sat in Fliss’ office waiting for Frank to finish working on the tractor. Fliss had noticed instantly that Mary’s demeanour around the 2 other girls on her lesson had changed, she had become a lot more introvert. Almost like the children bored her so to speak. It had surprised Fliss a little, as normally it was the other way round, kids happy to be outgoing with people their own age and more reserved with grown-ups. But she had ignored it and introduced the 3 girls to one another, simply carrying on as normal. Mary had simply focussed on her riding, not really speaking to the other kids. Fliss was starting to understand now why Frank thought she needed to socially interact a little more with children. “That’s cool.” Fliss smiled “So what are you doing tonight then?” “He said he was gonna do a BBQ.” Mary said, “Roberta’s coming over. She’s our neighbour. She turns up uninvited all the time so Frank said we might as well ask her if she wanted to come as she’d just rock up anyway.”

Fliss grinned “Is Frank any good with BBQs?”

“He BBQs better than he cooks.” Mary answered and Fliss chuckled. “But that’s because it’s not really cooking is it? It’s just heating meat to a temperature so that all the bacteria is killed.”

“Talking about me again?” Frank leaned in the doorway of the office, wiping his hands on an old rag.

“She was just telling me about your cooking.” Frank snorted “Yeah it’s not much to write home about.” “It’s bad.” Mary shrugged “Unless you get it out of a jar.” At that Fliss tipped her head back in a loud laugh. “Oh God…”

Frank shook his head smiling to himself before he changed the subject. “Tractor’s all done.” “You, Sailor are a God send.” she smiled “What do I owe you?” “Nothing” Frank shook his head “I had the parts lying around so…” Fliss frowned, before she smirked at him “ok then, today’s lesson is on me again.” Frank looked away shaking his head before he turned back, smiling “That’s how it is?” “That’s how it is.” she nodded.

“Alright, quid-pro-quo.” he said, tucking the rag he had been using into his back pocket.

“What are you doing tonight?” Mary asked and Fliss smiled.

“Well my Mum and Dad are away so I have the house to myself. So I’ll probably grab a beer, lay by the pool for a bit and then…” “You have a pool?” Mary’s eyes widened, cutting her off.

“My mum and dad do.” Fliss said.

“That’s so cool.” she looked at Frank “Why can’t we have a pool?” “We do…” “A communal one.” Mary rolled her eyes “ A private one is way cooler.” “Yeah, well, sorry life is such a disappointment to you.” Frank looked at her, Mary rolled her eyes and Fliss smiled at the easy to-and-froing that was going on between the two. “And here’s another disappointment, time to go.”

“Why?”

“Because you’ve taken up enough of Miss Gallagher’s…” “Fliss…” “Fliss’ time, and I need to get to the store if you wanna eat anything tonight.”

Mary grumbled but stood up and trudged slowly towards the door.

“Before you go do you wanna book in for next week?” Fliss asked.

“You gonna let me pay for that one?” Frank looked at her.

“Depends if I find anything else for you to fix.” she shot back, Frank snorted and shook his head. “Same time?” He nodded “That’s great, thanks.” “No problem.”

She bid them both goodbye and Frank and Mary made their way to the truck.

“Do you not think Miss Gallagher might be lonely tonight?” Mary asked Frank suddenly.

“Lonely?” Frank looked at her, “Why do you think she might be lonely?”

“Because she’s on her own, at home.” Mary shrugged “her parents have been away since yesterday. And she told me that she doesn’t have a lot of friends round here.”

“Neither do you.” Frank looked at Mary.

Mary scoffed “I have you and Roberta, and Fred…” “Well then Fliss has her family, her horses…” “But why not us?” “I’m not following?” Frank shook his head. “I mean why can’t we be her friends?” “Well, we are.” he said, “Sorta, anyway.” “So why doesn’t she come round tonight as well?”

“Well, I…” Frank he paused and looked up. He’d only know the woman a week but he couldn’t deny he liked her company. They chatted a little over text each night and again when in person but he didn’t know her in any detail… well, not yet anyway. He was hoping he would in time because he found her a breath of fresh air to be around. She was someone who didn’t know anything about him, his life. She took him for who he was and he liked that. He looked back down at Mary “you think she’d wanna come?”

Mary shrugged before she hopped round to the other side of the truck. Frank patted the roof and leaned through the open window of the driver’s side. “Wait here a minute…” he said, before he turned and walked back onto the yard.

“Fliss?” he called and she turned to face him.

“Forget something?” she asked, smiling.

“No, well kinda, erm, look. If you want, only if you want, you’re welcome to join us tonight. It won’t be much, but…” “I wasn’t angling for an invite.” she said shaking her head.

“No, I know…” he assured her “But the offer’s there if you fancy it. Although my limits are burgers, sausages and steak.”

“No chicken wings?” she frowned “What kind of BBQ is that?” “You want chicken wings, you can bring them.” he laughed.

She looked at him for a second before she smiled “Alright, deal.”

“Say about half 5? Will you be done here or…”

“I can get one of the girls to close up.” she smiled. “Half 5 is fine.” “Ok, well I’ll text you the address.” he said with a nod “It’s not hard to find, we live in the prefabs near the dock so…”

He trailed off, waiting for the usual judgmental look that came with that but it never arrived. Fliss smiled and nodded.

“Near the dock huh.” she grinned “That’s pretty cool.”

“Well it means the commute to work is acceptable” he said and Fliss laughed. “Ok, right, so I guess I’ll see you later.”

“Yeah, you will.” she smiled.

***** “Hi guys!” Fliss waved at the screen of her phone.

“Hey Titch!” her Dad grinned back “How’s it going? Burnt the house down yet?”

“Yeah, fire brigade are dealing with it now” she smiled “How’s Seattle?”

“Hot, like muggy hot, and full of people.” her dad grimaced and she heard her mum tssk in the background before she too appeared on the screen.

“Ignore him!” Verity rolled her eyes, smiling “It’s wonderful!”

“Hmmmm” Bill rolled his eyes “I tell you what won’t be wonderful, my bank statement when I get it. You’ve hit every shop going.” Fliss laughed as her parents began to bicker affectionately.

“So what are you up to tonight?” Verity turned to her daughter “Making the most of the peace and quiet?” “Erm…actually I’m going out. Well, to a BBQ…” she said, trying not to roll her eyes at the surprised look her parents exchanged.

“A BBQ?” Bill asked.

“Yeah, Frank and Mary invited me so…” she shrugged “I thought it beat sitting at home alone.” Another significant look was exchanged between the parents.

“Oh and he fixed the tractor” Fliss said, in a hope that would divert her Dad’s attention. Luckily for her, Bill was a tactful man and could recognise when she was trying to change the subject so to avoid her mother digging further he took the initiative and began to ask her a few questions about it, which she answered as best she could. The call lasted for another 10 minutes or so before the oven sounded, telling her the marinated chicken wings she had cooked to take with her were ready so she bid them both goodbye, promising to be at the airport to pick them up the following evening, and headed into the kitchen.

Once the wings were out cooling, she headed for a shower then set about trying to decide what to wear. Her stomach was churning a little, why she was so nervous she had no idea. This was just Frank, and Mary. In the end she settled on a pair of cut off jeans which grazed her ankles, a pair of brown sandles and a light green checked sleeveless button down. She kept her make up light, and pulled her long hair back into a loose bun. Once she had made sure the dogs were ok she grabbed the chicken wings and the beer she had also bought to take with her and then once she had double checked the directions she set off.

It wasn’t a long drive to the park Frank and Mary lived on. Fliss slowed down carefully, looking for the number she had been given and soon spotted Frank’s truck parked outside. She pulled her Jeep up behind it and clambered out, only to be almost bowled over by a flurry of blonde hair.

“Hi!” Mary said, giving her a hug. Fliss chuckled and bent down to hug her back.

“Mary you saw me like a few hours ago.” she laughed.

“I know but, I’m glad you came.” she said, letting go. She reached down to pick up a ginger one-eyed cat which was following her. “This is Fred.” “Nice to meet you Fred.” Fliss said, giving the cat a scratch behind his ear.

“Mary for Gods sake give it a moment before you start bugging her half to death.” Frank’s voice sounded and Fliss looked up, smiling at him as he appeared from the side of the house. Fliss gave him the once over from behind her sunglasses. He was dressed in a pair of light blue jeans, a dark blue T-shirt, a pair of grubby white sneakers and his ever present aviators were perched on his head. He made his way down to her and frowned as she opened the passenger side of the car and pulled out a ceramic dish.

“You told me to bring chicken wings.” she said as she handed him the dish “I also brought beer.” He laughed and shook his head “I wasn’t being serious…” “Well, I did them anyway. And they’re already cooked so you just need to char them. No chance of food poisoning.”

“Good to know.” Frank nodded, before he gestured with his head “Come on…”

Fliss followed him round to the back of the house and up a set of steps into a small kitchen.

“Come on I’ll show you round!” Mary said, grabbing her hand. Fliss let the girl lead her into the main room of the house. It was small, packed with personal touches. She looked around smiling softly. There was a small bookcase in the corner by the window near the front door in front of which sat a small table and a tool box. In the other corner was a small desk which was loaded with books and school supplies. Along another window sat a small leather couch, and the walls were adorned with the same, slightly shabby light coloured wooden panelling which gave the place the feel of a beach hut. It was bright, homely and Fliss instantly felt herself relax, there was just something about it that made her feel at ease.

“Probably not what you’re used to huh?” Frank said, watching her as she looked around, suddenly a little conscious that she was more than likely coming from a fairly opulent background with the job she did and her family and sporting heritage.

“No, but…” she smiled at him “I love it, feels like a home.” “It’s not much but it does us.” Frank smiled at her comment as he moved back to the fridge. “Beer or…” “Yeah, beer’s good…” she said, standing in the doorway and nodding to the carrier bag of bottles she had put on the table.

“You know you didn’t need to bring any more.” he said, as he glanced inside it “I got plenty” “I’m sure you do but my Mum always told me it was polite to take something with me when I go to someone’s for dinner so…”

Frank smiled and began to place the bottles in the fridge before he pulled out two already chilled bottles of Bud Light and flipped the tops off with the opener he had stuffed in the pocket of his jeans.

“Thanks” she smiled.

Mary walked past the pair of them, Fred shooting ahead of her as she tossed a ping pong ball into the grass of the yard and Frank gestured with his head, questioningly. Fliss nodded and they stepped back outside onto the lawn area, where a BBQ and a small table and a few chairs sat were set up.

Fliss took a seat as Mary flopped onto a beanbag to their left on the grass.

“Frank bought the special burgers” she stated “Said if we had company that wasn’t just Roberta we should wheel out the good stuff.” Frank groaned at his niece “Mary…”

“What?” she asked, and Fliss laughed.

“I’m glad you think I’m worthy of good burgers” she teased, and Frank noticed the corners of her eyes that weren’t hidden by her glasses crinkling up as she smiled.

“And I’m offended to know I’m not…” A voice said, and Frank jumped slightly. Fliss turned to see a kindly faced black woman with chin lengthy curly dark hair rounding the side of the house. Mary jumped up to give her a hug and the woman greeted her before she smiled at Fliss who had stood up.

“You must be Fliss.” “Roberta, yeah?” Fliss asked nodding as she shook the ladies hand “I’ve heard a lot about you.” “Same here.” The woman nodded before she turned to Frank. “You going to get me a beer?” “Get one yourself.” Frank shot back “Make yourself at home. You usually do.” Fliss grinned as Roberta aimed a slap to his head and he dodged the hit as if he knew it was coming. Which he probably did, Fliss realised. There was a comfortable familiarity between the two of them, even if Frank was trying to be all gruff about it.

Roberta came back and dropped into a chair and they all settled info a comfortable chat. Roberta asked Fliss questions about her Yard, Mary interjecting comments here and there as Frank stood by the grill observing their food. Any tension that Fliss had been feeling quickly evaporated as she became even more comfortable in her surroundings, and she happily chatted away. She told them about her brother, Steve and his 2 twin boys Charlie and Joel who were both Mary’s age, where she was from in England, and her parents, revealing to Frank’s surprise that Bill wasn’t actually her biological father.

“I didn’t know that.” Frank looked at her.

“Why would you?” Fliss shrugged “It’s not important really. My actual dad left my mum before she had me and then he died when I was 4 months old. I never met him. Bill brought me up from the age of 2 and adopted me when he married mum, so he is my dad, in everything but blood.”

“So you said they were out of town?” Roberta asked. “Anywhere nice?”

“Seattle.” Fliss said “Mum’s always wanted to go and, well last year they didn’t get much chance to travel what with everything that was going on so they’re just starting to get round to it. Kinda strange them not being around, first time since I’ve been in Florida that they haven’t.”

She pondered that for a moment, her nails lightly tapping on her beer bottle before she gave a grin and looked up at Frank. “I face timed them before. Their reaction when I told them I wasn’t simply sitting at home tonight like a total loser was priceless. I thought Mum was going to tell me to give her a ring when I got back safely…”

Frank gave a little laugh as he recalled their conversation earlier. He was about to reply when Mary cut in.

“Why’s that? You’re a grown up.”

Frank rolled his eyes at Mary’s nosey demeanour but Fliss didn’t seem to mind.

“Well like I told you sweetie, I don’t really have many friends here so I don’t go out a lot.” Fliss shrugged “I only really know the guys from the yard and a few people through my parents. My friends are all in the UK really… even the people I knew in Boston were more…” she trailed off before she took a breath and smiled “Well, I left them all behind when I moved.” “Well now you got us, right Frank?” Mary said simply as she sat on the large bean bag as she tossed a ping pong ball for Fred who obligingly chased it across the lawn. “Sure does.” Frank smiled “And we’re kinda hard to shake off. ” “Like a dose of the clap…” Roberta dropped her voice so only Fliss and Frank could hear. Fliss choked on her beer, sputtering a laugh as Frank flipped the woman off. “Fuck you” Fliss wiped the beer she had slopped onto the front of her shirt. She took little longer, than she needed as her eyes had watered up at the sudden sentiment of the moment. She had only known Frank and Mary a week, yet here she was in their home. Friendship was something she had been aching to feel again for months and now she found herself suddenly surrounded by it and she was a little overwhelmed if truth be told. When she finally looked up Frank was surprised to see there was a shine in her eyes as they had watered over. He shot her a wink, tactful enough not to mention it and then asked her if she would mind grabbing him a beer from the fridge whilst he kept an eye on the steaks, giving her chance to escape and compose herself. She shot him a grateful nod and headed inside, taking a deep breath.

“She alright?” Robert asked, watching.

Frank shrugged “Yeah, I think so, why?” “No reason.” Roberta said, standing up and moving to the grill “She just looked a little upset.” Frank shrugged again, focussing on the grill before he looked at Roberta “Think I should go after her?”

Roberta shot him a look as if he had just asked the most stupid question in the world. “Dur.”

“Watch that…” he instructed, handing Roberta the tongs before he headed inside.

“You alright?” he asked, as Fliss turned to look at him, gesturing to the beer on the side.

“Was just about to try and find the bottle opener…” Reaching into his pocket Frank handed it to her and smiled. “You ok?”

“Yeah…honestly, I guess, well, I’ve just…not done anything like this in a while…other than with my family so…” “Overwhelming?”

“A little, maybe. It’s just…nice.” she shrugged.

“You might not be saying that when you taste my cooking.” he shrugged and she laughed, following him back outside.

******

To Frank’s delight the food was actually pretty damned good. Roberta had brought a potato salad with her and everything got eaten, there wasn’t a scrap left which was why he and Fliss were now sat on the chairs in the garden, Fliss groaning about being in a food coma. Roberta had left half an hour ago and Mary was now flat out on the bean bag, covered by a fleece blanket. Frank had moved the grill away and lit the small portable fire pit before he had retrieved another blanket for Fliss and himself from the stash down the side of the sofa.

Their conversation had turned to Frank’s work and he was telling Fliss about some of the people he had met, the pair of them giggling as he spoke about a real stuck up couple he had fixed a boat for, who had then only gone and crashed it into the side of another boat on the first day of them taking it back out.

“What a waste.” Fliss laughed, “All your hard work gone up in smoke.”

“Well I got paid so…” Frank shrugged “And it was a nice boat to drive…”

“Sail.” Fliss corrected him and he rolled his eyes.

“I’m as much of a sailor as you are a cowgirl…”

Fliss grinned as she took another swig from her beer bottle before she turned to him, the reflection of the fire pit flashing in her eyes “well, if the boots fit”

Frank laughed “Do you actually have a pair of cowboy boots?”

“I used to.” She said, taking a deep breath “I spent a week in Texas one summer on a ranch, just to try my hand at Western riding you know. They gave me a pair of boots and a hat when I left. And then my husband burned them one night after I was late home. You know once he broke 3 of my pandora bracelets that I spent years collecting charms for because I bought the wrong coffee…”

Frank bowed his head.

“Sorry.” She smiled, “that kinda killed the conversation didn’t it?”

Frank shook his head and shook his head softly “In all honesty I was just thinking about what a prick he is. Something I’ll never understand, a man laying hands on a woman.”

“I tried to understand it for years.” Fliss said “even after he was sent down I still wondered what I did to make him behave like that but now, well now I know it’s him with the problem not me.” she paused and shook her head again “I have no idea why I’m telling you all this, sorry…”

“Don’t apologise.” he shook his head “like I said the other night, I’m a good listener.” “Yeah, you are…you don’t talk much though.” she looked at him.

“What do you think I’m doing now?” “That’s not what I mean.” she looked at him. “Just a pity I can’t google you like you did to me.”

Frank took a deep breath and grimaced as he looked at her “My dad told me” “Yeah, sorry about that, Mary…

“Its fine.” she sighed “It was a public case and a lot of interest amongst the circuit. The main reason I left boston was to get away from all of it…seems it just follows me all over.” Frank had a sudden flashback to the moment she had asked him what he was running from and took a deep breath. “Well, no matter how much you try and leave the past behind it always has a habit of catching up on you.” he said, glancing at Mary to make sure she was still asleep. He reached for his phone, tapped something into the search bar and hesitated for a second. Was he really sure he wanted to do this?

He supposed it was only fair. He gently handed it to Fliss. “And you can’t google me but…” Fliss took the phone from him with a questioning look before she glanced down at the article on display. It was from the Boston Herald.com and her eyes were immediately drawn to the black and white picture of a pretty woman with short, blonde hair. She was the double of Mary. Across the top the headline read “A Mind for math: Is Diane Adler the missing female variable that finally solves the Navier-Stokes Equation?”

“This is your sister?” Fliss said softly, “Mary’s mom?”

Frank nodded “She was a genius. The The Navier–Stokes equation they’re talking about, they’re of huge interest in a purely mathematical sense. It hasn’t yet been proven whether solutions always exist in three dimensions and, if they do exist, whether they are smooth or…”

“You’ve lost me.” Fliss chuckled “I was an English major, numbers and maths…” Frank chuckled “Sorry, force of habit.” he said as Fliss handed him the phone back.

“So, what happened to her?” Fliss asked softly. “I mean, I figure something must have for you to end up with Mary but…”

“She killed herself.” he said softly

“Shit.” Fliss said, “I’m sorry Frank…” He took a deep breath. “She was only 27. I was running late for a date of all things. She just showed up, on my doorstep. And she never did that unannounced, and more to the point she never showed up with Mary either…”

Frank swallowed and Fliss waited patiently for him to continue.

“She said she needed to talk. I told her I would talk to her when I got back and I left. I mean, couldn’t be late for a date could I…god forbid it damage my chances of getting’ laid.” Fliss noticed the bitter edge in his voice as he continued “Came home that night. Mary was on the couch…and I found Diane on the bathroom floor.” Fliss gently touched his arm “Frank, there’s no way you could have known.” “But I should have.” Frank said, softly “She was my little sister…you know, I was 2 years older than her. I was only 8 when Dad died but I promised then I’d always look after her but…”

He shook his head. “Anyway, here we are. A few months later we moved here. Fast forward 6 and a half years and…we’re still here.”

“I take it Mary’s father isn’t about?”

Frank snorted “Diane was, well, just like Mary really. Socially awkward. She didn’t date enough really to be able to tell the good guys from the bad guys. Mary’s father didn’t even last a month.” “And your mom?”

“She turned her back on Diane when she got pregnant. Didn’t fit with her plan. That’s part of the reason I moved Mary and me here. She’s a very exacting woman, uncompromising, very British.” At that Fliss raised an eyebrow and Frank looked at her, suddenly realising what he had said.

“She’s from England.” he added, and Fliss smiled. “She hated the fact I gave up my job and…well we don’t speak.”

“What did you do before becoming a Sailor?” Fliss smiled and Frank chuckled slightly.

“I was a Philosophy professor at Boston University” he said.

“Wow.” Fliss smiled “That’s pretty smart.” “You sound surprised?” he looked at her

“No, not at all.” Fliss protested.

He smiled again, “You know, sometimes I see so much of Diane in Mary, and she’s just a child. She comes out with stuff that’s way beyond her years. I mean earlier this year she asked me what I thought Executive Order 13769 was going to mean for all those refugees being refused entry…what 7 year old talks about stuff like that?”

“A very smart one.” Fliss replied.

“Exactly.” Frank nodded “I don’t want that life for her, the pressure associated with being a childhood genius like Diane was. Which is why she’s going to School in September, where she’ll hopefully learn how to be a kid.”

Fliss looked at him.

“Don’t tell me you didn’t notice it before when she was with the other kids on the lesson.” Frank eyed her and Fliss looked down a little “See, she doesn’t know how to a normal 7 year old…well, very rarely anyway. In fact the only time I’ve seen it recently is when she’s at the yard with you.

“She’s just a little awkward…but that’s nothing to worry about.” Fliss looked at her.

“But I do worry.” Frank sighed,

“Because you care.” Fliss said gently, her hand falling to his arm. “I think you’re being a little hard on yourself and her. She’s a good kid.” “Yeah, considering I brought her up.” Frank chuckled.

“Well I think you’ve done a good job so far.” Fliss shrugged “It can’t have been easy.”

“Still isn’t” Frank sighed. “It’s not how I envisaged my life panning out that’s for sure.” “Neither’s mine.” Fliss snorted “If you’d have told me 10 years ago that by the time I was here, aged 33 I’d have had my dreams cut short at the age of 28, then divorced after being hospitalised by a man I moved thousands of miles to be with I’d probably have laughed but here we are.” “He hospitalised you?” Frank frowned, suddenly feeling an inexplicable surge of anger towards this fucker, one which he really shouldn’t feel so strongly considering he had known Fliss for all of a week.

“Did you not read that bit?”

Frank shook his head “No I stopped reading after it mentioned domestic abuse. Was none of our business.”

“He wanted us to have a baby and frankly the thought of bringing a kid up, with him, in that environment…so when I found out I was pregnant in January last year I got rid of it. He found out and he beat me so hard he broke 3 of my ribs, ruptured my spleen and fractured my eye socket. I was in hospital for over a week.”

“Shit, Fliss, I had no idea…”

She wave his apology away “In a sick, twisted way I’m almost glad it happened. It was the final push to leave him for good. Wasn’t easy mind, I was low. Very low for a while and when the trial was going on…” she stopped again and shook her head “You know he plea bargained? Pleaded guilty to a lesser level of assault and got 4 years last summer. He’ll be out next summer I expect if he applies for parole, which he will because, well, that’s John all over.”

“Fucker.” Frank bit out between gritted teeth.

“Yeah, well it’s behind me now.” she said “I’m in a good place. I’m happy, my business is taking off and it’s a job I love. I have my family and, well, some friends.”

Frank smiled and nodded “What Roberta said before is true you know. We’re harder to get rid of than an STD.” Fliss laughed loudly and drained her beer bottle “Well I’m glad to hear it, because I kinda like you Sailor.” “Back at you Cowgirl.” They changed the subject then, Fliss talking about her horses, in particular her chestnut mare that was her pride and joy, and then when Mary stirred Frank glanced at his watch and realised it was past midnight. He didn’t want to kick Fliss out but when he stood saying he should get the little girl in bed, Fliss nodded and agreed she should be going as it was late.

Frank told her to wait whilst he swept Mary up and carried her into the house before he came back out to walk her down to her car.

“We should do this again.” Fliss said, “Only this time you can come to me. Although I’m a better cook than BBQ chef.” “You’re on.” Frank said, “Although don’t mention it to Mary. It’s all I’ll hear about.” Fliss grinned and then leaned up on her toes to press a soft kiss to his cheek. “Thanks Frank.”

He smiled as she climbed into her car and as she set off he tossed a hand at the tailgate as she rounded the corner. He headed back inside, contemplating the evening. The chat had been hard going in some places, he hadn’t told anyone about Diane in a long time. Hell, Mary didn’t know a lot about her mother, he tried to keep her sheltered but he knew that as she grew older that was going to get harder. He also knew how much it must have taken Fliss to open up the way she did. It left him with a puzzlingly warm feeling in his chest that she trusted him enough to do so, one he couldn’t really explain. And he had a feeling it was to do with the fact that he actually wanted to spend time with the woman and get to know her, instead of simply getting her into bed.

Yup, that was it. For the first time in forever Frank realised he’d extended an offer of no strings attached friendship to a woman.

And he couldn’t deny, it was nice.

@the-omni-princess @momobaby227 @geekofmanythings16 @angelofhell-666 @thewackywriter @marvelfansworld @cobalt-gear @asgardlover75 @jennmurawski13 @jtargaryen18 @saiyanprincessswanie @navispalace @patzammit @joannaliceevans-fanficblog @djeniiscorner @ayamenimthiriel @coldmuffinbanditshoe @disneylovingal @madzmilllz @sgtjaamesbaarnes @sweater-daddiesdumbdork @southerngracela @goldenfightergir @kellymat @official-and-unstable-satan @icanfeelastormbrewing

#frank adler x ofc #frank adler #gifted #gifted fan fic

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tactyl-ymon · 3 years

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DnD session recap - Service and Struggle

I’d been trying to write this recap since mid december because god there’s just so many emotions in game at the moment and it’s very draining to write about. We got a new barbarian and lost one of the rogues as they had to move interstate

We open with a lone figure paddling through an otherwise still ocean as the moonlight silhouettes a large country that wasn't there a month ago. The figure, drawn forward by a feeling in their gut that this is where they're supposed to be, makes landfall and begins lumbering through the forest as fast as her turtle like legs will allow. It is hours of running peppered with the occasional break to curse whoever thought making towns so far apart was a good idea before our new friend sees the telltale signs of town gates, a place called Merigan it seems. As the guards size up the towering tortle laden with weapons, they shakily ask the barbarian her name and what business she has. Donna Tello Tortellini introduces herself and says she's just looking for a place to sleep for the night, the guards look warily at her large frame and then mention if she's got coin there's a tavern nearby that probably had a room, otherwise there's a stable a few streets away if they promised not to cause a ruckus, the last group they had let camp there were just a constant bother to the guards and town in general whenever they came through.

Donna Tello asks about the group and it being another in a long line of slow nights the guards escort her towards the tavern, surely nobody could be that much of a nuisance? The guards tell her all about the wicked group that calls themselves Tactyl Y'mon, about the time they had pretended to be ghoulish monsters attacking the town gates and the time they'd arrived with a lively boulder that was very protective over a busted old cart that they wouldn't let anyone get near and the time they had managed to save several townsfolk including the town leaders wife and then tossed his house after staying there the night and got several of the guards drunk, stole one of their pants and jumped through a familys roof before screaming and jumping through their window. As Donna Tello thanks the guards for the hopefully tall tales and mentions she'll definitely try to avoid the group if she can, she enters the tavern for the night and to think about where she might find some decent coin to help her explorations.

It's just before dawn the following day as Eridol is startled awake by the telltale whines of his dog signaling that he needs to go out before the very not telltale sound of his dog screaming about how he needs to pee. Which is enough to slip Eridol's already shoddy grasp on reality with everything that's happened the last few days, this has to be a dream … or insanity, who cares, best to just throw away the whole suitcase of emotions at this point and take his suddenly very talkative dog for a walk. The important questions are asked on their jaunt through the keep, “Could you always talk and were just shy?” “If this were fake, you'd tell me right Pickle?” “Where do you enjoy pats the most?” It's around here that Eridol gets a very familiar reality check in the shape of a golden dragonborn standing just outside the gates of the keep talking to one of the guards, former friend and one time follower of the god of murder, Drackuss.

With nowhere to run, no weapons to defend himself and no backup Eridol is faced with doing the one thing he swore he would never do, have an emotional conversation with someone who shattered his trust. But Eridol still has his last trump card to get out of the conversation. Freeze up and become unresponsive. Whether Drackuss actually notices or not is irrelevant, the former paladin barrels through what amounts to an apology for how he acted when he tried to brutally disembowel one of their companions before going on a one man murder quest across the country, but how Eridol was part of stopping him doing awful things and he owes the small cleric for that. Eridol breaks and shouts that as far as he is concerned nobody owed him anything, whatever help Eridol gave was balancing a ledger or trying to make up for his own failings. Repayment for all the times that Drackuss had saves the party from otherwise lethal blows. Repayment for Eridol being too far in his own head to notice anything was wrong. Repayment for one of the earliest memories Eridol has of the dragonborn spending days in a rundown church trying to save sick children from a plague. That version of Drackuss deserved a second chance to make his own path but Eridol didn't have to be a part of it and that if Drackuss actually cared what Eridol thought they wouldn't even be having this conversation.

Several familiar shapes creep into the periphery during the silence that follows. The remaining members of Tactyl Y'mon, Whisky, Veiraen, Septima and Emmi wander up from the keep as Core, the groups sometimes government contact and Sukaren, a very imposing blue dragonborn who had been in charge of the front lines to the entry portals to the country march up from behind Drackuss. Core begins by formally thanking the group for everything they had done to shift the country back into the prime material plane and that word had gotten around that the group was at least partially responsible for the shift, people were calling us champions and the like and that there would be some exhibition matches being held in the main city and the group was invited to participate in two back to back. That one would offer a much larger challenge, but if the group could come out victorious in both they'd receive a significant reward for the show.

Core also goes on to mention that there seems to have been some unforeseen fallout from the whole fabric of reality shifting back into place thing. Hundreds of criminals seemingly disappeared in an instant at the time of the shift back to the material plane. Murderers, cultists, thieves all set to wither in the dark for the rest of their lives gone in an instant with no evidence of what happened and with the official business out of the way, Core suggests walking to the nearest town to spend the rest of the day drinking all of that away like the semi-functional alcoholic sponge he is, the group not ever really needing a reason to drink but having just so many they could choose from decide to go with him. Drackuss shrugs, mentioning that he did what he needed to and that Sukaren and him were heading back to Principium to continue training.

As the two lumbering lizards retreat back to their training regiment, half of the group wanders into the keep to put on pants leaving Core and Emmi standing outside in awkward silence as the last moments of dawn fade away. With nobody else around, Core once again mentions that Emmi’s mother, Sharona really wants to talk to her as soon as possible. That she has so much to apologise for and that she had a plan to find out what happened to Emmi’s father all those years ago. That if Emmi was willing, Sharona would be waiting outside of Principium on a ship for the next week. The silence that follows is almost deafening as she considers the chance in front of her. Inside the keep, Veiraen approaches Eridol and asks if he really meant what he said about Drackuss, that everything he’d done was just rebalancing a ledger and whether that extended to how he thought about the rest of the group. Eridol still not quite over everything that happened outside quietly says that he doesn’t know, that he genuinely cares about everyone and is so afraid of losing people he cares about again. Eridol realises what he said and stiffens before taking a breath and apologising. Everyone deserved better than he could offer, but that he would be a better friend if Veiraen would give him another chance. Veiraen agrees before asking if he could stab Eridol again for funsies and the status quo of bickering siblings is restored like nothing happened.

Several hours and jugs of grain alcohol later, the group find themselves in a tavern inside Merigan and are alternating between loudly trying to guess what they’d face in the fight pits with Core and how to best announce their awesomeness to the waiting crowd, it’s around the third shout of ‘We’re Tactyl Y’mon, we could fight a swan” that the shouts get the attention of the large tortle barbarian who had been sitting at the bar who with the fading memories of the guards saying to avoid the group, she gets up and introduces herself, saying that she had overheard the group was going to be in some upcoming exhibition matches at the main city’s amphitheatre and that she was a decent fighter and was looking to gather some gold for her travels if the group thinks they could use the extra set of hands in the fights. This is basically all the group needs to hear before collectively welcoming her to the rag tag family and then several rounds later getting around to asking her name. With introductions out of the way and a new friend made, the group staggers slowly back to the keep, singing songs the whole way.

In the coming days, the group train half heartedly before making their way to the capital city of Principium. They enter the familiar halls of the arena that the exhibition matches are held in to raucous applause and quickly take a win in the first fight, much to the joy of the crowd watching. A quick break later and they re-enter for the second match. Whatever the group was expecting is blown out of the air as from the other side of the arena enters faces very familiar to the group. Core, Sukaren, Drackuss, Rorstaad the council member, an old lizardfolk monk ally and a lumbering form of a hill giant with a grudge against the party’s cleric all appear across from them and against the superior combatants and the well oiled teamwork of their opponents Tactyl Y'mon quickly begin to fall. Eridol and Emmi fall within seconds, Veiraen temporarily falls shortly after but by the time he gets his footing again there isn’t anything that can be done. It is only 20 seconds after the fight begins that it ends. Sukaren spits that their time is worth more than mopping up such disappointing fodder. The crowd watching all of this sits deathly quiet, no cheers, no boos, no movement as Tactyl Y’mon quietly leaves the arena, thoroughly defeated by their betters.

Minutes later in the waiting room of the fight pit, Tactyl Y’mon sit and lick their proverbial and literal wounds as Core and Sukaren enter and as Core splits off to speak with Emmi, Sukaren attends to everyone else in what amounts to a “I am both mad and disappointed in all of you” conversation she goes over how this proved to her that the group is not worthy of the champions/defenders of the realm status that the commonfolk believed about them. They were nothing but mercenaries who had bumblefucked their way to success, idiots with no real skills or teamwork, just lucky that they hadn’t faced a serious threat. Sukaren dared any one of them to prove her wrong, to say something that would justify how poorly they just performed. We leave the session with Core and Emmi having a whispered conversation about what’s really important and Emmi rushes out of the room in between all the shouting, making her way to a ship docked nearby, wordlessly hugging her mother before helping her pull up the anchor and pointing the ship towards the setting sun over the ocean.

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xoxardnekoxo · 4 years

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Movie Review: Mulan (2020)

WARNING: SPOILERS AHEAD!

Ah, Mulan. One of my all-time favorite Disney movies. I loved it so much I had a life-size plush Mushu, a Disney Beanie Baby talking Mushu, a Mulan Barbie, every action figure made, a chirping Crikee, and even a Mushu/Crikee alarm clock. It’s no surprise that when Disney announced a live action version of this movie, I was all over it. The three-time delay in theaters due to the pandemic was disappointing, but then again, so was having to pay $30 on top of a monthly fee I already pay for Disney+.

When the movie was first announced, we knew right away that three things would be lacking that were in the beloved cartoon:

1. Mushu 2. Shang 3. Songs

I immediately jumped on this band wagon at the announcement of no Mushu:

Supposedly the actual country of China strongly disliked Disney’s animated interpretation of an actual legend from their homeland. I don’t know the full details, but I do know that with that in mind, Disney wanted to make the live action version of the movie more authentic to the actual story. This really wasn’t meant to be a remake of the cartoon, but a more accurate take on real events.

I know it’s Disney and that usually means music, but honestly, I’m okay with no songs. I outgrew musicals 15+ years ago. I was even okay with no Shang (but it makes no sense when there is an obvious, if unfulfilled, love interest in this version as well).

Much as I love Mushu, I was still eager to see this movie because I’m a fan of Asian culture in general and was curious to see how this movie would play out. Imagine my surprise when I learned that this version would consist of a phoenix and a witch.

How is that any different than a dragon? Is it because dragons are kind of sacred to the Chinese? A phoenix is similar - it’s a bird that is reborn from fire. And a witch? I highly doubt that actually happened in the original story. Did it? I don’t know, but my point remains.

Unlike the cartoon, Mulan in this adaptation knows quite a bit about combat already. We can see her as a child using her skills quite often, and her father tells her to contain her (strong) chi. Speaking of chi, it’s mentioned quite a lot in this movie. Apparently what makes Mulan such a strong/good fighter and leader is her strong chi. Chi is mentioned so much all I could think of was this:

(Chobits anime)

Mulan doesn’t have her dog (Little Brother) in this movie, but she does have a little sister. Interestingly enough, the original story depicts her as having a younger brother, but he was too young to fight. So if Disney was going for accuracy, they still could have gone that route and stayed true to the source material.

As with the cartoon, Mulan does meet the matchmaker, but she doesn’t go in alone. She goes in with her mother and sister, the latter of which is terrified of spiders. Instead of a lucky cricket causing a catastrophe during this “audition,” a spider decides to scurry in and scare the younger sister, prompting the cacophony. So really, it’s the sister’s fault Mulan brings dishonor in the matchmaker’s eyes.

Mulan’s father is frequently chastised by her mother for encouraging her boy-like behavior. “She is your daughter, not your son.” Rude. But remember, this is a different era. The only way a female could bring honor to her family was to be a good wife and bear sons. Still, harsh.

So we all know what happens next. One man from every family has to join in a fight against some turd determined to take over the empire, in this case one who is using a witch to help him, and Mulan takes her father’s place since she fears for his life. But she has good reason to - the poor guy needs help walking and even her mother said he won’t return from battle this time. Way to sugar-coat it, lady.

So we get to the men’s camp... no wait, first, we get lost and a phoenix (symbolic, since it appears no one else is able to see it at all) shows up to guide Mulan to where she needs to go. Yes, instead of asking the ancestors for help, her father asked the family guardian (phoenix) to watch over her. Okay.

Eventually we get to a large tent shared by all the soldiers. Yes, this time, they don’t all get their own individual tent. And of course, all the men are running around half dressed, throwing things at each other, rough-housing, you know the drill. It’s especially amusing when one of them loses his towel and Mulan immediately closes her eyes and cringes.

Then the commander asks for a night guard volunteer. Mulan proceeds to volunteer for this every night to avoid having to shower with the men. Too bad they all start to notice the smell. Funny, in the cartoon, Mulan absolutely did not want to smell like a man at all. It takes her quite some time before she’s able to sneak into the river to bathe. Too bad one of the guys decides to follow her in and she has to hide herself. :D

During training, rules and penalties are revealed, and the penalty for pretty much doing anything wrong is death. Except one thing - dishonesty. Dishonesty brings expulsion from the army as well as dishonor to the family. Don’t talk to a woman or you’ll die, but pour out some water to make the buckets lighter during a strength exercise and get humiliated.

So we eventually get to a big battle scene with all the flying arrows, and Mulan, of course, winds up by herself fighting the witch. The witch can obviously tell that Mulan is hiding her true self, so she’s all, “You’re going to die pretending to be something you’re not.” Then something pierces the wrap Mulan uses to hide her chest and she decides the best course of action is to go back to her comrades as her female self. The whole “big reveal” scene is her taking her hair down (which she does not cut with a sword by the way - in fact, she doesn’t cut it at all) and walking out of the fog and introducing herself. To me, that was very anti-climactic.

The cherry on top of that is when, after being expelled from the army for dishonesty (weird though, another rule was to not consort with women at all and yet she actually IS a woman and isn’t killed), she returns to the camp and the men immediately accept her for who she is because she’s all, “The emperor is in danger and I know how to save him.”

So the commander allows her to lead a group of men into the Imperial City to save the emperor, who is quite a warrior himself - he breaks out his armor to fight the Hun (not Shan-Yu, I don’t even remember what his name is this time), then Mulan shows up and of course she and the witch team up because, hey, why not? They’re both misunderstood women always being told to stay in their place, except the witch is controlled by the Hun and Mulan is free.

The witch can transform into a hawk or something like that (probably a shout out to Shan-Yu’s pet from the cartoon) and she actually flies in front of Mulan to save her from getting pierced by an arrow. So of course she dies in our protagonist’s arms and is all, “Take your place.” And of course, as expected, Mulan saves the day. And let me just say, how many times can one possibly kick an arrow and send it flying straight toward a designated target? It happens at least five times in this movie, and just once is a one in a million shot. Yeah, cool effect, but totally not accurate, Disney. I thought that was the whole point of this movie - more accuracy to the source content. And you also wanted to appease China. Too bad it didn’t work this time around, either.

The movie ends with Mulan being offered a position on the emperor’s army (nice cameo by Ming-Na Wen, the original voice of Mulan from the cartoon!), but she chooses to go back home - where her sister has been matched to someone who isn’t afraid of spiders.

Yay! Then Mulan’s commander and some other guys show up and offer her the same job the emperor did, only in front of her entire village, so everyone knows she has now brought honor to her family and the country, prompting the matchmaker to faint because she was proven wrong.

So then she does take the job after all, and that’s pretty much the end. Shang isn’t in the movie but there is one fellow soldier she seems to have fun with in practice combat, and he’s super eager to accept her as a woman, even saying she’s the best soldier they’ve got. But nothing comes of that - the two part ways as friends, but honestly, I think it’s okay in these circumstances. Throwing a love story into this rendition just wouldn’t work.

So all in all, not a bad movie, but I think I probably should have waited until it was available on regular Disney+ or DVD instead of spending $30 on premiere access. But I would have spent that going to the theater anyway, so I guess it’s not so bad. I do know a lot of people absolutely hated this movie and it’s gotten bad reviews. I didn’t mind it, but I think my favorite live-action Disney movie so far is Aladdin. This one is probably in second place, though. I think the reason people dislike it so much is that there are so many things missing that were in the cartoon. But again, this is not meant to be a remake of the cartoon - it’s meant to be a more accurate version. But you just can’t make everyone happy.

Overall, I’d give the movie a 7/10. It could have been better, could have been worse. I still prefer the cartoon but it was interesting to see this version as well. Now to see what other live action movies get made... and we’ll see if The Little Mermaid can beat this with a black Ariel. I think I should audition for the role of Snow White - I have the short hair, pale skin, and am always talking to animals. If Ariel can be black, Snow White can be fat!

#xoxardnekoxo #Movie Review #Mulan #Mulan 2020 #Mushu #Shang #Li Shang #Crikee #Disney #spoiler alert #Disney princess

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archonssun · 4 years

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Writing Prompts

UPDATED 05-24-20

This list WILL be getting longer eventually, and if you guys see any repeating ones, please tell me... Here is the list of prompts that you can request (or ya can use a prompt of your own if you’d like...):

“I’m fading. And all I want is to know that I’m going to be okay.”

A smooth sea never made a skilled sailor.

“I’m sorry that you were not truly loved and that it made you cruel.”

Being strangled/choked, but not being able to call out for help.

Instead of using cash, people pay for things with their dreams.

“I got you. It’s gonna be okay, you’re going to be okay.”

“Leave.”

“I will milk your spleen.”

“Don’t touch me.”

“By the time anyone finds you, it’ll be too late.”

“If I disappear will you look for me?”

“People can do worse things than kill you.”

“How many times do you think a heart can break?”

“Do you trust her?” “No… but I trust her anger.”

“When a child is punished for their honesty, they begin to lie.”

“So tell me little wolf, do you want to punish those who have wronged you?”

“You’re a monster,” he hissed; she laughed and said, “better a monster than an arrogant god.”

Something went wrong. I really tried. I’d like to try again.

“If I disappear, will you look for me?”

“We’ll never be those kids again.”

“The trouble is, you think you have time.”

“Whatever is wrong, I’ll fix it. I’ll fix it, for you.”

“Someday you’ll just be a memory.”

“War does not determine who is right, it determines who is left.”

“I forgot my name again.”

“It can take a very long time to realize you’re immortal.”

Hungry dogs are never loyal.

“The chains are broken, but are you truly free?”

“Demons run when a good man goes to war.”

“Say that one more time and you’re grounded.” “I am the prophesied hero of all realms. You can’t ground me.” “Watch me.”

“Aren’t you going to stop him?” “Nope. I’ve given up on trying.”

“The hunter has become -- oh no, he’s free.”

“I did something cool and you can’t handle it. I get it.”

“Warning: You are about to enter someone else’s dream.”

You are a murderer, no matter how beloved.

But first, some rebellion.

If Karma doesn’t hit you, I fucking will.

We all eat lies when our hearts are hungry.

Death too must be earned.

Oh, cruel fate.

A wolf is a wolf, even in a cage, even dressed in silk.

Choke them on the ashes of the dreams they burned.

I survived, but it’s not a happy ending.

To insanity.

I remember.

This is my confession.

You’re playing my game now.

Though I saw it coming, it still hurts.

“I’m just here to cause a little trouble.”

Everything, in time.

Sometimes you have to remind people that you can be an asshole too.

Deep beneath the ground a rumble moved the mountains and woke the heavens.

“I will never belong to you.” “Don’t kid yourself, you always have.”

“A death changes lives forever and nothing will ever take away the pain.”

We won’t forget each other, right?

“I don’t care if you are panicking - just do it quietly.”

The worst thing you ever did to me was save my life.

He wasn’t an ally, that was for sure, but he was the only fighter among us.

“You really are a piece of trash.”

The rain is full of ghosts tonight.

“I think we overdid it.”

You’re an attention starved narcissist.

I wasn’t born to be soft and quiet. I was born to make the world shatter and shake at my fingertips.

I hold his sword and wonder if he was a good man.

I think I’ve seized the wrong fucking day…

“I’d rather be honest than impressive.”

“I’m going to snipe you.” “You’ll miss.”

How long has it been since the pain began?

In that moment, he saw eternity, and was driven mad.

I was fixing my life.

This is a game and we are the pawns.

“One of these days the clocks will stop and time won’t mean a thing.”

Like any unloved thing, I don’t know I’m real if I’m not being touched.

What is the fucking point?

You were alone before they left you.

I’m just tired; I just want the world to be quiet for a bit.

I sometimes wonder if things only get better so that they can get worse again.

“I broke my rules for you.”

How do I stop the guilt?

Hit it until it breaks.

You already know how this will end.

I am ruination.

A memory like a knife.

It’s all a bit tragic, really, isn’t it?

P.S. I never told you, but I was falling in love.

I killed a part of me to keep you alive.

You are losing my interest, and that is very dangerous.

“You always smile like you’re about to cry.”

Ocean not lost.

“Facts don’t care about your feelings.”

“I don’t know where I am. Help me.”

“Is everything supposed to go dark?”

“You’re my friend, of course I fucking care.”

“By the time anyone finds you, it’ll be too late.”

“Death and destruction is hilarious.”

“Don’t touch me.”

“It’s okay. You don’t have to love me.”

“I wanted to be ruined a little more than I wanted to be loved.”

“And you’ll remember me, whether you want to or not.”

Looking up at the man about to kill me, I realized something. I wasn’t the hero in this story. I was the villain. And no one would mourn when I was gone. They would dance and sing on my grave.

I screwed up.

Welcome to the Garbage.

Fuck, I’m tired.

Disappointed but not surprised.

You’re a functional moron at best.

“I’m still here, breathing, aren’t I?”

He will do what it takes to survive.

“Well, that’s just perfect. I was running out of nightmare fuel for a moment there.”

“You’re safe now. I won’t let them hurt you. Not ever again. I got you … I got you.”

“I find peace in the rain.”

“How dangerous,” she thought, “to finally have something worth losing.”

Poison only tastes like poison after you’ve swallowed it.

“I’ve discovered I love you.” “When did you discover this?” “Since all my decisions started to revolve around you.”

Our little, stupid conversation means more to me than you think.

“Use me.”

And I watch as she slips into the darkness.

Every man must play a part.

Chip away the bloody marble.

Give form to the formless.

You run, but do you know the way?

A hungry animal does not think.

Brave the storm of teeth and claws.

You just … don’t look quite yourself.

It’s so much to ask, but for all of our lives, would you do it? Could you give yourself?

But if the future is always behind her, how will she find the strength to confront it?

“You can’t just set people on fire -- no, stop! You can’t poison them either!”

“If you’re going to get in trouble for hitting someone, might as well hit them hard.”

“I am not above slashing my own tires to avoid going to this family brunch.”

“I don’t know how to put this nicely. So I won’t.”

Dying, she gives her last little smile to the world that has been so unkind.

“I love it when someone insults me. It means I don’t have to be nice anymore.”

“I’m going into the woods to scream for a while, anybody wanna come with?”

“I heard that!” “You were supposed to!”

“Miss, what’s the sweet you like the most?”

Every King needs a Queen in his bed.

“Why aren’t you dating him?” “Because I’d destroy him.” “He’d be into that.”

People in glass houses don’t throw stones.

“Lying is wrong.” “Unless it helps you get out of a pinch.”

“You’re a foolish girl. But you’re my foolish girl.”

“What’s it like being trash?”

“If you don’t like the rules, turn ‘em off.”

“Silence, wench! I will not fall for your trickery and douchebaggery!”

“I always wanted to find you, but not like this. Not like this…”

A lion shouldn’t concern himself with the opinions of sheep.

“Red is the perfect color on your skin.”

“Are you safe?” “I-I don’t know.”

“It’s me! It’s me! Calm down, baby, please.“

“You deserve someone who values you.”

“Pay attention to me.”

“I’m not going to leave you.”

You kneel before my throne unaware that it was born of lies.

Piece by piece, the world will crumble around you.

“That shouldn’t have worked, but it did.”

“If you want to learn what someone fears losing, watch what they photograph.”

You are a murderer, no matter how beloved.

“We must accept the end of something in order to begin something new.”

“I’m everything you can’t control.”

Turn the pain into power.

“Would you die for me?” “Again?”

“I’d make a great lunatic.”

“Trust me, I’ve seen them argue. They’re amateurs.”

“Can I at least buy you a coffee? For old times sake.”

“It’s fun, seeing all that you worked for crash and burn.”

“It feels like everyone just forgot I exist…”

“Are you happy now? Huh?! DOES THIS MAKE YOU HAPPY?!”

“Sometimes it just gets too hard to keep pretending.”

“You. Cuddle. Me. Now.”

“Can’t you pretend to love me? Just once.”

“Why am I always the one carrying you?”

“You’re kind of turning me on.”

“That was … in-tents.”

“Beauty slew the beast.”

“I accept no responsibility and would do it all again.”

“I mean, stupider stuff has worked.”

It wasn’t supposed to happen; not like this.

“Oh, the pain.”

“Trust me, I was an extremely irritating child.”

“I remember kissing you. Why do I remember kissing you?”

“That’s not cooking, it’s sorcery.”

“You know you’re my favorite, right?” “I better be.”

“You here to finish me off, sweetheart?”

The world hasn’t stopped. Why should we?

“All of these people are alive right now - because of her.”

“Hear my heartbeat? Just focus on that.”

“It wasn’t meant to go this far. I swear.”

“I think I might be falling in love with you.”

“It’s a real shame nobody asked for your opinion.”

“Tell me a story.”

“How do you do it?” “How do I do what?” “Pretend you’re okay.” “I’m not pretending.” “Yes you are, every single day. And it breaks my heart.”

“We watched it in the attic.”

“I love physical violence!”

“Does it even matter? We’ve been through this...”

“There is a tremble in you hand...”

#writing prompts #angst #fluff #etc

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hanbeihood · 4 years

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A D&D 5e Build: Ron Stoppable

I did one of these sometime last year for Halloween and just wanted to do another, so here it is. First up: Why am I attempting to build Ron and /not/ KP? Simply put, Kim is a fairly straight forward build in 5e terms. She’s an Inquisitive Rogue with a single dip into Monk. You could give her some Fighter levels (that UA Unarmed Fighting Style is so tempting) to keep up with Shego’s combat prowess, but her brain is honestly her key feature, making those Rogue levels very valuable (11 at minimum as far as I’m concerned). She’s you’re basic, average girl, and she’s here to save the world. Ronald, on the other hand, is remarkable by just how unremarkable he is while still somehow keeping up with Kim. Barely. For those who didn’t watch Kim Possible when they were younger or don’t have Disney+, he might not even seem like an adventurer. But Ron’s amazing in game terms; he’s at that level of naco cheesiness I just love to play. Plus, he has Rufus, and everyone loves Rufus. Spoilers may appear.

Let’s get into it:

I’m going to be using the standard point array from the PHB. If you would like to roll for stats, just keep in mind where to put your higher and lower rolls.

Ron’s 15 is going into Wisdom. He may seem like a totally inept doof, but he’s incredibly insightful and holds onto his own philosophies. Also, his best friend aside from KP is a naked mole rat (a very smart one at that, but that’s cartoon logic). I’m going to put 14 in Charisma. Ron isn’t intended on being conventionally attractive, but Charisma =/= being hot. It’s all about your presence and ability to get people to listen to you and consider what you’re saying. Ron is somehow able to casually talk with so many villains, so his CHA must be high. Also, he’s an honorary Pixie Scout. 13 is going straight into Constitution. He is R-unstoppable after all... He can take a real beating from even the more threatening foes and eats so many nacos that an above average CON is the only reason he hasn’t been hospitalized for his diet. I’ll give 12 to his Dexterity. He’s dodged lasers, booby traps, and incoming fire from all sorts of things. An adolescence of fighting robots and super-humans will leave you light on your feet and your hands. This may sound weird, but I’m giving his Strength the 10. He’s worked in retail and has lugged around some pretty heavy looking things. And that leaves Intelligence with 8. Ron isn’t the sharpest tool in the shed. He says good stuff, but don’t ask him to tutor you for the upcoming exam unless it’s a subject he excels at without question. I know he was kind of a genius when he became evil that one time, but I’m going to rationalize that as his INT & WIS swapping places when his alignment got shifted. Ron’s a Neutral Good guy with Chaotic leanings, so going Evil is bound to mess with your brain in more ways than one.

STR 10 || DEX 12 || CON 13 || INT 8 || WIS 15 || CHA 14

Ron’s a Human of the Variant variety, but if you want to play him as a Bugbear, that’s cool I guess. I’m not your dad. I’m going to bump up his WIS to 16 and CON to 14. And I’m going to give him the Magic Initiate (Wizard) feat. Prestidigitation & Mending can reflect parts of his Movie Makeup Magic Kit, but I’m really taking this feat for Find Familiar so we can have Rufus right off the bat. He’ll also get the Animal Handling skill because Rufus loves him.

For his Background, I’m going with Entertainer for proficiency with Acrobatics, Performance, Disguise Kits, & a musical instrument of your choice. This solidifies his place as the Middleton Mad Dog mascot, the costume of which he made using his MMMK, and he has disguised himself as Mr. Dr. Possible & The Fearless Ferret. However, if you feel that the By Popular Demand feature doesn’t fit Ron quite right, go with the Rustic Hospitality feature from the Folk Hero background.

Oh boy, time for the class.

Ron is a Monk, first and foremost. Despite his clumsy, slacker nature, he’s incredible capable when it comes to dodging blows from Shego & Kim even with his hands behind his back. In addition to Martial Arts & Unarmored Defense, he’ll receive proficiency in Cooking Utensils, Insight, Stealth. He will continue down this class for some time, but what kind of Monk would he be? In the show, he eventually becomes the Supreme Monkey Master as recognized by Master Sensei (I know what you’re thinking.), so we should probably begin with looking for which subclass could best emulate Monkey Kung Fu.

There is a lot of history when it comes to Kung Fu, more than I’m going to type out. That’s not even to mention the 5 variations of the Tai Shing system. I bring this up because Ron’s arch-nemesis, Monkey Fist, is a pracitioner of Tai Shing Pek Kwar and probably would be best described as a user of Wooden Monkey. However, the beauty of 5e is that many different martial art styles can be emulated based on how you use your action economy and describe your attacks & movements. Flavor is everything.

If I were to put all the Monkey magic from the show aside, I would guess Ron could pass as a user of various styles due to him not being nearly trained as much as Monkey Fist in a particular discipline. For D&D 5e, he could be seen as a Drunken Master or Open Hand Monk, but he does have that Monkey magic, putting Four Elements on the table even if we want to say the more mystical side of his simian abilities are due to multiclassing.

At 2nd level, Ron gets access to Ki Points that he can use for Flurry of Blows, Step of the Wind, or Patient Defense. PD is especially handy for the sidekick who would rather avoid danger. He also gets Unarmored Movement which is incredibly useful for a guy like Ron. His running ability landed him a spot on the Middleton High School American football team. Crazy right?

With all that out of the way, I’m going to say once he reaches 3rd level of Monk, Ron will adopt the Way of the Four Elements, learning Elemental Attunement (a more elemental version of Prestidigitation that we can swap out later) & one other viable Four Elements Discipline of your choice. Fist of Unbroken Air is a great option for pushing a foe back while dealing damage. He also gets the ability to Deflect Missiles which is always good.

4th level Monks get the option for an Ability Score Increase or a feat. Take the Lucky feat. It’s honestly super impressive that Ron survived so long fighting baddies before he started his martial arts training. Remember, Kim Possible is one of those shows that has stuff going on off-screen, so there have been many missions between the episodes we see. Monks get Slow Fall here too; Ron falls a lot and this may be how he’s avoided concussions when he should clearly get one.

5th level gives Ron an Extra Attack and Stunning Strike. The best way to avoid a punch is to insure your opponent can’t even throw one. Also, your Martial Arts die is now a d6.

At 6th level, Ron can gain a new 4EleDis as well as swap one out for another. Drop Elemental Attument like I mentioned earlier for Gong of the Summit. This allows you to cast Shatter, and we can flavor this to be a sort of mystical monkey screech. Pick up Clench of the North Wind so you can cast Hold Person; KP will have an easier time boppin’ bad guys when they aren’t moving. Also, your unarmed strikes are now magical when it comes to overcoming resistance and immunity against non-magical attacks & damage. Talk about that Ron factor.

7th level Monks get Evasion for even more ways to avoid danger & Stillness of Mind; he may seem like a coward, but Ron Stoppable won’t be swayed into abandoning his friends.

8th level gives Ron another chance for an ASI/feat. Bump up DEX by 2 to 14 so you can start dealing more damage and have a higher AC. 15 isn’t great but PD has probably served you well if you’ve survived this long.

At 9th level, Ron’s Unarmored Movement is improved so you can have him run along walls or over liquids as long as you keep moving. This isn’t super in-character, but it’s useful.

10th level of Monk gives our boy Purity of Body, making him immune to disease and poison. Looks like he won’t be able to miss school unless he fakes being sick.

11th level is really what we wanted from the Four Elements because now Ron can use Ride the Wind to cast Fly on himself like the Supreme Monkey Master he is. Plus, his Martial Arts die is a d8 now.

For 12th level, we have another ASI/feat opportunity, so that’s another +2 to Ron’s Dexterity for a 16. This gives him an AC of 16 with the ability to take the Dodge action as a bonus action with PD.

I’m going stop here with this build because I think this is a solid place that could potentially coincide with the show, but if you want to take Ron to 20th level, Monks do get two more ASI/feat opportunities at 16th & 19th level. Use these chances to bump up your DEX & WIS to 18 each, or make one of those a 20. Four Elements Monks also get one more Discipline they can take at 17th level; Ron would probably take the Fist of Four Thunders in order to cast Thunderwave. However, if you don’t want to continue levels in Monk, almost any subclass of Fighter or Thief/Swashbuckler Rogue (if your DM is cool with Martial Arts counting towards Sneak Attack) could be viable.

If you decided to opt out of the Magic Initiate feat I took at 1st level, you could easily just take the pet mouse from the Urchin background equipment. Or you could make Rufus a player character with an Awakened Rat as the race if you want him to be more involved.

#ron stoppable #rufus #kim possible #Dungeons and Dragons #dnd #character build #5e

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bonesandpoemsandflowers · 4 years

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So here’s a thing that happened, tumblr.

Many moons ago, I was in the Neuro ICU for a while. I was actually in there twice--for a week at first, then out, then in again for about two weeks. In between: “Nothing’s wrong! It’s resolved!” As you might imagine, given the spoiler there about how I went to the Neuro ICU twice: in fact, Something was wrong, and it was not resolved (then).

(it is resolved now, thank you)

This post is not actually ABOUT that, but we must start there, out of order.

This is a post about art and rivers and boys in cars. But we start in the Neuro ICU.

I don’t like talking about this time in my life. I would have been skittish and mysterious ANYWAY--I was raised like that--but I’m extra skittish and vague about my timeline because I don’t want to talk about it, you know? I survived something I had no business surviving. I had to relearn how to walk. That took months and that was the easy part. Because I am a big tiddy goth girl, and because I was very young then, people love to assume that the problem was drugs, and I did it to myself, as if that somehow makes anything less tragic.

I was 23 years old with a brain bleed due to a congenital defect, and even at the time, I had to defend myself: no, I’m not on drugs, I don’t do drugs, I didn’t do coke, I’ve never done coke.

I am also Colombian, which, I suppose, might play into their calculus about the coke, but WHO KNOWS. I was busy gibbering and almost dying at the time, which left little energy for noticing potential microaggressions.

Is it a microaggression, I guess, when you’re dying? Who knows.

I have never even been drunk, tumblr. I don’t drink. I don’t smoke. I don’t snort. I never have. This is mostly because I’m a paranoid loon with an off again, on again anorexia, ya know, thing, so occasionally I get really hung up on irrational concepts of bodily purity. People think it’s a flex when I try to explain this, that I’m relishing in some kind of moral superiority. I’m not. I admitting to SEVERAL defects (“quirks”) of personality there. The eating disorder. The deep distrust: I will not be vulnerable in the presence of others, I will not dull my senses, I will not allow myself to be weak. A certain perfectionism. A certain tendency towards slow burn self harm. Grand ideas made of nothing that sometimes take hold.

My point is that this big disruptive thing happened.

I survived, which is AWESOME. And yeah, I had to relearn how to walk, and some other things, but you guys know that I do yoga and aerial silks and lyra and ran off to Thailand to train kickboxing for a summer on fighter street and I STILL do not shut the fuck up about it.

So, cool, cool cool cool cool.

And I don’t even want to talk about that part, the medical drama, the body horror, the institutional whatever. My neurosurgeon was fantastic and like a week after my discharge I was high as SHIT on prescribed painkillers my caregivers insisted I take and wrote him a gushing effusive letter about how he was MY HERO because I was ALIVE and anyway that basically makes you BATMAN, DOCTOR LEWIS, I FUCKING LOVE BATMAN.

Again: high as fuck, ok.

My point is: I hate talking about this.

Because once you’re a survivor in people’s minds, that’s all you are. You are reduced to this one event that had very little to do with you. You are defined by this thing that happened to you.

And this isn’t even the weirdest thing that’s happened TO me! But still. Happened TO me. Not something I did. Not my action. Barely even my reaction.

But again, personality flaws. What does it say about me that I look at social norms about comfort and inwardly I snarl that I want no one’s pity?

Except I’m not actually that mean. I don’t snarl.

I just withdraw.

This is a tactic that has served me well in life a BUNCH of times. Is it always the answer? No. Is it often worth a shot? Listen. Yeah. Yeah, it is. Sometimes you flee an abusive home life because that’s the only option, and you don’t want to die. Hypothetically speaking: sometimes all you can do is run.

But sometimes you flee people with mostly good intentions, maybe.

This is all very high minded but what’s prompting me to write this isn’t exactly the upcoming (many year) anniversary of the event. It’s something way more mundane and dumb.

I have not logged into my facebook account since this happened. I never bothered deleting the account(s), either. I presume they still exist. I have no idea HOW to log back onto them, and, more importantly, no desire.

“So what?”

So, okay, back when I had my first stint in the Neuro ICU? Like, totally out of nowhere, I just disappeared from people’s feeds. (you all know I do this) Somehow part of the story got out and SOMEHOW, I have no idea how, a small group of my friends managed to independently track down the hospital I was at. And this is on next to no info, across state lines, like--I have no idea how the fuck they did it.

I also don’t fucking know who they were.

I was told, at the time. I have a vague idea of who two out of (I think) four were, or might have been. I was kind of busy at the time, with the dying.

And when I say I don’t like talking about this time: I don’t like even THINKING about it. I avoid it.

Fleeing. See?

So I don’t have a memory of the names. I don’t have memories of the memory.

“So what?”

So, I know from groups other than this one, groups less dedicated than this one, that people actually get REALLY fucking mad at you for not accepting their get better soon wishes. And like, I get it! You were very worried and I did nothing to reassure you.

I WAS BUSY.

I was busy dying. Almost dying. Not dying. I was busy sleeping 20 hrs a day. I was busy being unable to walk. I was busy re-learning to walk. I was busy relearning how to write with pen and paper and for months I COULD NOT DO IT, do you have any idea how that feels to someone who is and has always been and has always wanted to be a writer? Fuck it. Fuck you.

The initial disappearance. I am not to blame.

But then doing nothing to reach out to anybody for YEARS and YEARS--

Okay, maybe a dick move on my part.

“So what?”

So I think one of the people who managed to track me down in the hospital was my best friend from high school, a terribly sweet Brazilian boy who mostly called me not by my name, but simply: The Devil.

I dig it. Always did.

And it’s high school, right. Everybody is thirsty as fuck for their friends, one way or another. We never dated--we were both always dating or pursuing other people--but we had the typical high school bestie unresolved romantic tension deal going on.

This is important so remember it for later: the problem was not attraction. The problem was not one sided unresolved sexual tension. I had a particular thing for how he looked while driving, shades on, one arm slung over the wheel in that terribly and typically male lounging driving pose that’s probably a safety hazard.

We spent a lot of time in his car.

I didn’t drive, at the time, because my mother didn’t allow me to learn, and I got kicked out of my house and disowned when I was 17. This dude spent a LOT of time driving me places. Boys in cars is practically a genre of erotic poetry, thanks to Richard Siken. This is because boys look Cool driving cars, wearing sunglasses, pretending they’re not paying attention to you while you know they are.

So he was fun.

More importantly, I guess, the fact that he picked my ass up at like 6 AM over and over and over again for a big chunk of my senior year is one of the few reasons I managed to graduate despite being technically homeless.

He was not a morning person. I am not a morning person. He did it anyway.

Why didn’t we date, I wondered, years later, for a fraction of a second, and then I forgot about it.

“SO WHAT?!”

So I’m grown up and happy and fulfilled and in a lovely long term relationship (remember! we’re buying a house!), so it’s not about “what if?” It’s that I’m happy and grown up and I write books sometimes.

But there it is.

I write books sometimes.

Artists are constantly stealing ideas from everywhere and this is good. Artists also steal from themselves, grubby little hands on secret parts of our hearts.

So I’m writing this book, right. My Great Work. My Break Out Novel. My SERIOUS FUCKING BUSINESS book. My “this is the thing I’ve worked the hardest on in my whole entire LIFE” book.

And in this book there is a male love interest. He is a political statement. I’m writing him as sexy and heroic as possible. I want this to be the MOST attractive man I’ve ever written.

Latino. Sexy as fuck. Not a criminal. Overly responsible. Action ready, and terribly nurturing.

Hot Single Dad and Reluctant Necromancer is my masterpiece. A passionate statement and stance against the depiction of Latino men in media. A war cry to examine our own subconscious biases. A weapon raised against an unjust system.

I stole parts of him from Frank Castle. I stole parts of him from Geralt. I stole (MANY) parts of him from this one IRL hot dad former Army Ranger guy, Mexican American with a tattoo on his arm of a jack o lantern one of his kids drew. I stole parts of him from this cute Marine in my DMs who gave me story advice about guns and gear. I stole parts of him from indigenous leaders from centuries ago, from the peoples he is descended from. I stole parts of him from every man I’ve met who worked in dog rescue. I stole parts of him from myself, hiding secret parts of my heart in the male character so that no one will know.

Lovely. All good so far.

I got like two whole drafts in before I was thumbing through some printed out pages, idly thinking: how funny that I don’t have any real life, personal to me models for this guy.

All my prior male love interests, you see, are based on someone. In the werewolf trilogy, they’re BOTH based on someone--different someones. The villain, too, is jokingly referred to as the “evil werewolf ex boyfriend” for a reason.

Everybody is someone.

So how funny, I thought, that necromancer hot dad lacks any references from my own--

OH, wait, fuck--

Overly responsible brown dude with sad dog eyes drives the female lead/occult specialist around while good naturedly complaining that she’s weird as shit.

Oh, damn.

And suddenly a bunch of teensy little backstory details made sense.

Cool.

“So what?”

Bonus round of self realization: my own understanding of this time in my life radically shifted, turning, lurching, sickly rotating on a new axis.

Why didn’t we date?

Somewhere between then and now, post ICU but pre novel writing time--

This one time I overheard somebody talking to somebody else and it had nothing to do with me but sight unseen, on the other side of the stacks in a used bookstore, one dude said to another: “you know that if you were lighter, you’d have a chance with her, right?”

How terrible, I thought, and I forgot about it.

Why didn’t we date?

Because my mother told me, when I was very young, that boys from Brazil were all very wild, and I should avoid them. And she told me this so early and so plainly that I never thought to question it. When I was older she took harder stances that I easily ignored because I knew they were wrong--don’t you dare bring a black boy into this house. You’re dating a Jew? I can’t believe you did this to me. What are you going to do next, kiss a girl?

WELL, Ma, as it turns out, I mean, not til college, but yes.

But the smaller, more mild statement was so much more insidious.

I wonder if he knew. I don’t think he did. I wonder if he figured it out later. I have no idea, because we were friends when we were still essentially children, and now we are grown. Not everybody thinks about this kind of thing, and I don’t blame them.

How much damage did I do?

Does it matter?

Does he know?

I know.

I know, now, that my rallying cry against a system’s unfairness is also a cry wrenched wetly from my own subconscious depths. YOUR biases against? Yes. But more accurately: my biases against.

“So what?”

So this kind of epiphany shit leaves you breathless about it and you wanna scream. You wanna SHARE it. You must infect others with this knowledge.

But you can’t out of nowhere foist this apology on someone. That’s selfish. That’s about redeeming yourself in your own eyes AND asking someone else to confront unpleasant emotions on your behalf, even though they’re the wronged party. Selfish. Tell me I’m not a bad person, baby. Tell me I never hurt you, not even a little. Forgive me if I did. Wade through this pile of astral shit for me just to make me feel better. Reassure me. Hurt yourself for me in the here and now.

So I’m not going to do that, obviously.

“So what?”

But there’s that other part of it, right? Not the apology. The surge of emotion. The realization that all those morning drives back then added up to something deep within me, something so foundational to my concept of care and maybe even the start of something like love--the knowledge that this person gently carved some ideals for you, so long ago, so subtly that you never questioned it, never even realized, because it felt so natural, because something about it is so inherently good and right.

Despite everything--despite society, propaganda, colonialism, the prejudice of my upbringing, my own unexamined complicity, ALL of it--

Despite everything, this person taught me something so deeply about love and the shape of it, something so foundational that I built all my art on it and didn’t even see the beams of it until halfway through my most ambitious and soul bearing undertaking.

This is how you care for another, went the lesson, and I wrote pragmatic actions over words romantic male leads all the way down.

This is what love might look like, and in my own life, ever ambitious, I chose a poet talented with words and actions and good fight choreography, because I think that’s sexy and dichotomies are mostly bullshit, or at least things that happen to other people.

But I didn’t learn what love looked like from my childhood home life, obviously. How could I?

Without you, though, without you and your mirror sunglasses at 6 AM and your exasperated teasing, devil, witch, bruja, without any of those, where would I have learned? How long would it take me, to find someone who would teach me a wholesome lesson?

I’m small and cute and predators love a victim with a lack of context. I give myself and my wit some credit, but what’s pattern recognition worth if you never get any good data points?

Deep lessons.

Again: this kind of epiphany makes you wanna scream. Who to infect, with all this new knowledge?

Maybe no one. Probably no one.

But maybe, just a little, you wonder--

How would that conversation even go?

Hey, so I wrote this book--no, it’s my fifth, not my first, but thanks--so I wrote this book, and there’s this character, right, and he’s--well, hahah, I mean, he’s not exactly--I just--funny story, really--no, god, no, you don’t have to read it--it’s just--he’s just--I mean, no, you, you’re just--forget it, actually, just--

Like, what the fuck is there to say?

“I couldn’t have written this without you.”

And

“Did you check on me? When you thought I was dead?”

and

“I’m sorry I didn’t notice, at the time, that I meant anything to you.”

or is it really

“I’m sorry I didn’t realize until now that you meant something to me.”

What to do with all this emotion? Or more accurately--like rivers carve out gorges, here is the shape of something that once was. This shape will always be here. Even without a single drop of water ever again: we see the river.

What to do with the shape of all this emotion?

I consult the great Richard Siken via a feat of bibliomancy. Advise me, O Oracle. The oracle is War of the Foxes (2015), turned over blindly in my hands, opened randomly to The Worm King’s Lullaby, pg 45, verse 1:

The holes in this story are not lamps, they are not wheels. I walked and walked, grew a beard so I could drag it in the dirt, into a forest that wasn’t there. I want to give you more but not everything. You don’t need everything.

This advice is too good. I close the book.

The advice does not tell me what to do, but it’s too good. The verse reaches into my chest and carves out my heart, slices it open. Inside my heart: pomegranate seeds. Tiny jewels, fit for a dragon, snacking on garnets and rubies, and the apple of Eden wasn’t an apple, because it was the desert, wasn’t it? It was a pomegranate. Something with scales, maybe snakes. The serpent, the devil.

What to do with all this love?

I swallow the pomegranate seeds. I buy myself some time. I want to give you more, but not everything. Do you need everything? I don’t know. I don’t have it to give to you, in any case. Does it matter?

Why are you doing this, me?

Because art is messy. Art is cutting yourself open over and over again. You clean up most of the mess, try to bottle the fluids and label them nicely or deliberately misleadingly, fit for someone else’s consumption, but either way, you’re bleeding.

Maybe this urge is bleed with me or maybe it is oh, you already did.

I swallow the seeds. I buy some time.

I’m not done yet. I’m not.

Maybe all this adds up to nothing.

Maybe if I do this right, it adds up to a lot.

Maybe if I do this right it will feel real, maybe what I want is to gift the shape of these rivers to somebody else, all emotionally intimately with strangers. This is a shape that love can be. This is a silhouette you may recognize.

Maybe that’s a tribute, or a tributary.

But it’s not about you, not really, so don’t get too big headed about it. This is about Art and something like Justice. Big things. This is a book about big things, about history and dogs, history and gods, crimes and lies, slaughter and slander.

Right, yeah.

An act of faith, an act of will.

I swallow the pomegranate seeds. I buy myself some time.

It’s not harvest season yet. Not yet, not now, not yet.

If not now, then when?

When it’s ready.

There is no ready. Perfection is an illusion.

Yeah, sure, but page count is REAL.

You’re evading. That’s another word for fleeing. Do you know that?

Yes. I do.

How long will you run?

Just a little bit more. Just a little. I promise.

#it was boiling / i run to the sea #'i wrote this book because REPRESENTATION also possibly an unresolved crush from high school i am pure LITERATURE'#i have done everything in my power to find you! except get on LinkedIn

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gimmeyoon · 4 years

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Iron World: Choose Your Class

I am the whisper of flames. I am the the spark in a cave of darkness. I feel it coursing through me, the ever-growing need to fight. It’s my instinct now, running into the flames to prove that mine are stronger. Shadow-Knight, I chose it because it sounded cool. It wasn’t my intention to chose a solo class. I hadn’t known then what I know now. That being alone is inevitable. At the end of the day it’s you and your weapon or your magic. But for me? For me it’s both. I fight with the might of a tank and the trickery of a caster. I summon flames just to shoot an arrow through my enemies heart. I’m quicker than I am strong, but too many enemies have doubted the power my arms hold. I live in two worlds, three I suppose. The world of light where my aim never fails, the world of the shadows where my magic calls to me, and Iron World, the cage I will escape. I am the Phoenix and I will never stop rising from the ashes.

I am the darkness that calls to all men. I am death’s master. I belong to two planes, that of the living and that of the dead. Though the dead in this game are only coded shadows, they tremble before me. I am Agma’s master, my half-dead tiger that awaits my command. I am the magic that good men fear to do, the necromancer. I have looked death in the face and laughed. Perhaps that is why I still live today. Zombie they call me. Maybe I am? I don’t know this fire that rages inside of me. I can only hope to contain it. When I fail, or when I chose to unleash what is always there, I cannot control it. It burns so much brighter than I want. I have looked death in the face and laughed, but I fear it is her that has the last laugh. That somewhere she watches as I avoid the shadows, as I run from the magic that used to make me feel invincible. Now in the moments where I might be, I hide instead. Always afraid that my next move is my last. I am Agust D, the living dead man.

I feel the magic scratching at my finger tips as I sit at my laptop in the dead of night. I once toppled dragons but now I reach to the corners of this game. There is no door I cannot sense the code for, no lock too complex for me to break. I can bring it all down with my keyboard. In my lab I am less wizard and more engineer. Though the weapons I’ve developed could only come from magic. I wanted to be a wizard to feel the type of power I had only seen in movies. To understand for a moment what it felt like to have that type of command with just a few words. Sometimes I worry I like it too much. That going back to the real world would mean losing this sort of pride I take in hacking into the Coffin’s database or making the rings Chimmy wears to create a forcefield around him and his patients. In here I am Mono and my wish is my command.

Charisma. That’s why I chose it. Enchanter’s always have high charisma for crowd control spells. I hadn’t expected the pressure that it entailed. I hadn’t anticipated how it would feel to have my friends look at me with fear in their eyes as the waited for me to hide our presence to a crowd full of people. It was draining. The ever-present exhaustion almost made me believe I was allergic to magic. Despite it, I couldn’t be a tank. Couldn’t crawl into bed sore every night. The truth of the matter was that I was not meant to do magic everyday. I was meant to go to my 9-to-5. Charisma. It made people like me, and it made people look at me, and with it all I smiled. I smiled, because the moment I stopped I feared we might not make it out. So I hold out my hand as I chant the spell and I calm my friends as the sit in the living room. I reach to the very depths of their souls and I tell them it will be alright. No one notices. No one looks up. Yet the sadness in their eyes begins to fade at least for today. I have not learned how to do it for myself, to go into the depths of Worldwide’s soul and tell him that it will be okay.

I’ve always loved music. It’s moved me for as long as I can remember. I will always remember the feeling the first time I moved it. See, I love music, but it wasn’t until I was in the game that I could actually play an instrument, that I could call to the notes and have them do as I asked. It had been a little bit of a joke, before the game my friends and I had said that I would do just fine as a drunken bard. That in the game I might actually get to experience being drunk without instantly feeling tired and out of it like in real-life. Even in the game my body rejected liquor, no drunken bard for me. The recorder had also been a joke, a call back to the only instrument anyone had ever tried to teach me. I like it now, an instrument, a weapon, people might underestimate, but that allowed me to cloak my friends in invisibility, lull enemies to sleep, and influence others to do my bidding. Sometimes there was an urge so strong in me that begged to play a song and have the world do whatever I wanted. I’m not sure I’m even powerful enough for that, I’m no where near the highest ranked bard in the game, but I also know somewhere in the depths of me that, if I tried, there would be no going back. In this world I’m J-Hope, perhaps a name I hadn’t realized would be so literally needed.

I could have been a tank. Cooky and V might laugh about it in Iron World, but in the real world I’m like seriously strong. It’s in here where the code effects my body that I feel powerless against their beefed up tank status. I was always clumsy though, that part is true. It’s not my fault they all need to get their rocks off with an adrenaline rush. It could have been me. It could have, but there is nothing worse in my opinion than feeling powerless as your friends suffer. I’m the only one that can do that. The only one who can sense the unrest in the group, that can feel their pain as if it is my own. The rings on my hands that Mono made me, channel my power better. In some cultures laying your hands on someone in healing is the highest form of love. Perhaps that is my true power, the sheer might of my love for my friends. I would do anything to heal their wounds, to ease their burdens, to bring them back from death’s door. At times I’m the only one that stands between them and the absolute game over that is death in Iron World. The anxiety of it all keeps me awake some nights. And as I pour over books and books on healing, there’s a voice in my head that says never again. It’s not mine and it took me so long to identify it. He’s never said those words to me, never held me accountable for what happened that day. Yet its what drives me to work harder, to be not only the best cleric in the game but the savior they, he, deserves. “Chimmy,” he would say, “you’re already the best.” And yet, that’s not enough.

You get a dog. What other reason did I need to pick Beast Lord? Well, technically you get a beast, but Hell Hound was an option. Sometimes I missed the days when Jugeum was more hound, less robot. The connection is still there though. Sure, he was a coded entity, he felt nothing, but still to me he was everything. If I lost Jugeum I felt I would lose the very core of who I was in Iron World. I hadn’t spent a second in this game without his presence in my mind. I’m a shitty fighter. Cooky and Phoenix spend half of their time fighting, protecting me it seems. Jugeum was my sword and my shield, even know when I hadn’t seen a shield in god knows how long. But he was also a heart that beat next to mine. A small comfort that seemed to ground me in this world. He had never failed me and I hoped to never fail him. Perhaps I should have been a necromancer, to be more caster than tank and still get to have a pet. But as Jugeum and I tore through a room of enemies, my somewhat steed beside me, I knew that I had made the right choice. In this world I was never alone, V and Jugeum until the end.

I just wanted a sword. If I had put more thought into it maybe I would have been a shadow night like Phoenix. I don’t even carry a sword anymore. Jonglyo still remains, though she’s become a knife in the updated version. There is no weapon I cannot master. No enemy I cannot out fight. Beefed up, Chimmy calls me. He’s right to some extent, the game is like steroids, pumping me with muscles that I’ve tested the limits of and have not found. Phoenix is fast where I am strong, V is cunning where I am brute. A tank, one meant to take damage. I think it’s fitting even if I had been careless in my choice. Knights can withstand more damage than any other class, perhaps maybe Necromancers if Agust D is any proof. And as I spend nights and nights in the ring pushing my stamina and health to the limits, I continue to push that limit. It’s about buying time. It’s not about winning, a common misconception. I’m never going to be the one to beat an enemy. I’m the one that won’t die, and if I do, it’ll be for the only reason that really matters. To save those I love. Fitting. I always thought physical pain was bearable, it was the pain of others that cut me to my core.

#Thanks to the anon that inspired this #Iron World #ficspiration

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jamesbucksiclebarnes · 5 years

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Rating: Mature - Mentions of Violence, Mentions of Attempted Rape

Chapter List: [1] | [2] | [3] | [4] | [5] | [6] | [7] | [8]

[AO3 Link] | [Fic Page]

SERIES SUMMARY:

"Not human. She was not human. They all knew it. Could almost feel it, but couldn't make sense of it. That was why they were afraid. Not because of what she used to be Before. But because of what she was now."

Having found herself serving as the right-hand to the Governor for too long, Synnove le Jacques does her best to make things right with the people of the Prison. Stuck beside her partner in crime, her irritatingly obnoxious and hideously problematic best friend, Merle, she does her best to fight back against the monster she has let the Governor become.

CHAPTER TITLE: The Head.

Rick, Michonne and Carl left early that morning.

Merle and I were awoken in order to open the gate as they passed through in one of the cars from the courtyard. I was not a morning person, but I let the rude awakening slide by without complaint, taking my anger out on the two biters that tried to slink in through the open gate while Merle struggled to close it.

After we’d made sure it was secure, we began to make our way inside.

“You know they get us to do this ‘cause of that one damn sniper,” Merle remarked. “Can’t risk none of their people out here, but you and me? Free game.”

I looked at him out of the corner of my eye as we crossed the courtyard. “Stop complaining. We got four walls and a roof, all of which come refreshingly megalomaniac free.”

Merle grunted, not entirely committing to his agreement.

“Besides. You got your brother.” I reached out to pull open the wire gate, stepping into the frame and turning to face Merle before he could enter. “Don’t fuck that up. He doesn’t deserve it.”

Merle cocked a brow. “Lookin’ out for my brother now, are ya?”

“You need him more than he needs you,” I stated in response. “Don’t act like you don’t know that. All you have to do is not be an asshole every five minutes. Get me?”

He chewed on the inside of his lower hip, contorting his face into a scowl as he looked down at me. I didn’t budge until he nodded, tossing his hands up with a begrudging “Fine!”, moving past me once I’d stepped to the side and marching up the stairs to the entrance.

I followed behind, catching the door as he tried to slam it, full force, into my face. The suddenness of my catch made the door vibrate on its hinges, drawing the attention of those inside. By all logic, I shouldn’t have probably been able to catch that door as easily as I’d made it seem, with the amount of force that had been behind it. I just hoped none of them noticed.

Daryl, Hershel and Beth were the only ones up and about. Beth was holding the baby, bouncing her softly as she held a bottle to her lips. She glanced shyly up, watching as Merle marched down the stairs and toward the cellblock, not looking back. Daryl watched him, too, before looking up curiously at me. Hershel began to hobble toward the cellblock, as if he intended to try and talk to the irritatingly stubborn man that had run off to sulk.

I shook my head, waiting for the door to stop shaking before stepping through the frame and closing it softly behind me.

Daryl’s gaze remained on me as I climbed down the stairs. He rose to his feet once I’d reached the ground, gesturing with one hand toward the cellblock.

“The hell was that?”

“I told him not to be an asshole,” I answered honestly, giving the younger Dixon a shrug. “He didn’t like it. Now, he’s going to go off and sulk like a child for about an hour, and then he’ll come back and we will continue our day as if nothing at all happened. It’s like clockwork.”

I slid into one of the nearby seats, resting my forearms atop the cool metal table with a sigh. Daryl hovered for a moment on the other side, chewing his lip the same way his brother did when he was indecisive. After a moment, he slid into the seat opposite mine.

Beth seemed to take that as her cue to leave the room.

“How long you two –“

“About eight months,” I answered before Daryl could even asked, a slow smile spreading across my face. “Martinez and I found him when we were out in Atlanta on a run. He tried to rob us.”

A snorted chuckle escaped Daryl. “’Course he did.”

“A one-handed man – half-dead from blood loss, mind you – leaps out from an alleyway, covered in biter guts, waving this little toothpick of a knife at us and making demands.” I giggled softly. “Almost shot the crazy fucker on sight.”

Daryl’s lips were curled up into a slight grin as he looked at me from across the table, nodding along to my story. “What made you take him in?”

“I’ve never had a dog before,” I remarked with a smirk, which made him laugh.

He had a nice laugh, actually. A nice smile, too. It wasn’t harsh or cruel, like his brothers often was.

“Honestly?” I asked after a moment. “I don’t really know. It wasn’t until after I’d kicked his ass that I even suggested it. Martinez thought I’d lost my damn mind. But we needed more people. More, uh… hands. For building and gardening, you know.”

I really had tried to avoid that joke. Honestly, I had.

Daryl, thankfully, was still at the stage in which he found it more amusing than annoying, which was a nice change.

“So, we scraped his ass off the sidewalk and took him back,” I continued. “Fixed him up. Gave him that metallic nightmare on his arm and asked him to join the guard. He was all for it, of course. Until the Governor paired him up with Sean.” I let out another soft chuckle, shaking my head at the memories that swirled on the edge of my mind. “First day? Broke his partners nose. Trashed one of the garden beds. Lost his gun amongst the tomatoes.”

Both Daryl and I laughed, trying to remain as quiet as we could. Most of the others were still asleep.

“The hell’d you keep him around for?” Daryl asked after a minute.

I looked off into the distance, reminiscing with a small smile. “Sean was one of our best fighters. Used to be in competitions and the like, you know, Before. You had of asked me a few days earlier who I’d put a bet on? Wouldn’t have been Merle same-amount-of-brain-cells-as-hands Dixon, I can tell you that. But he kicked his ass good.” I nodded. “The Governor wanted to keep him around, but he also wanted him under control. So, he put him with me.”

“Why you?” Daryl asked.

I looked back at him to see his light-hearted look replaced by a more sombre one. His eyes searched my face for a long moment and I immediately knew he was digging for information, just like Rick had asked him to. I looked at him evenly across the table as I debated with myself.

Should I tell them? Perhaps the knowledge of what I truly was would be helpful, aid them in their decisions going forward. I didn’t like the idea of keeping it a secret, mostly because that implied I’d need to figure out a way to keep it from them without being able to lie. If I were going to be staying with them, living alongside them, perhaps they deserved to know.

However… Rick had been a cop once. A sheriff. Our professions were practically polar opposites. The assassin and the police officer? There was no way in hell he’d trust me if he found out. No way he’d let me stay. And if I went, what was the likelihood that Merle went right along with me? Where would that leave Daryl? Abandoned once again?

No. No, I couldn’t tell them. Not yet.

“I don’t take his shit and I can kick his ass,” I answered after a long moment, letting a small smile pull at the corners of my lips. “And he leant that the hard way.”

Daryl studied me for another moment before dropping his gaze, a red tint lighting the pale skin of his cheeks. “That why everyone back there’s afraid of ya?”

I cocked a brow, but he couldn’t see it with his gaze fixed on his fingers where they rested atop the table in front of him. “Yes and no.”

He licked his lips and took a deep breath before looking back up at me. It was almost as if he were struggling to meet my eyes. Like he had to force himself to hold my gaze. “What’s that supposed mean?”

“There are layered reasons as to why some people – not all – back home are… unnerved by me,” I answered with a frown.

“Like what?”

I sighed through my nose, smiling ruefully. He wasn’t going to give this up, was he? “Fine,” I breathed. “Since you’re so set on digging for an explanation, let me give you this. Once upon a time, before Woodbury became what it is today, when there were no more than twenty of us, I did something that many considered to be… kind of fucked up.”

I met his gaze evenly.

“There were these three guys,” I continued. “One of them had a hate boner for me so hard it could shatter rock and the other two would have followed him down a river made entirely of shit if he’d asked nicely enough. Now, the one with the hate boner? He’d been with the Governor and I since the beginning, too, and he had always looked at me like I was… untrustworthy. Worrisome. Dangerous. You name it. Don’t know if it was a race thing, a woman thing, an alpha male thing, or – fuck, I don’t know – maybe he hated my tattoos? Either way, doesn’t matter. The point is, he and his buddies wanted me gone and once we started bringing more people in, and I started getting along with those people, started getting respect… My God, it drove him nuts.” I shook my head with a humourless chuckle, looking out toward the window. “They waited until it was my turn on the night shift. We patrolled the walls a lot more frequently back then – mostly because we’d had no idea how to actually build them at the beginning and some of the panels were, you know… prone to being knocked over. Anyway, it was my turn for the walk-around. I was alone, walking the usual path – didn’t really think I had a reason not to.”

I paused a moment, glancing back down at Daryl, who was now watching me with an intense gaze, jaw clenched. My expression lightened slightly, lips pulling up gently in the corners in a soft smirk.

“I think you see where this is going,” I stated. “Three men. One woman, alone in the dead of night. Doesn’t usually end in a pretty picture, does it?”

Daryl’s mouth opened and closed a few times as if he were struggling to find something to say. I shook my head and sighed.

“They didn’t.”

The tenseness of Daryl’s shoulders loosened almost immediately. He dropped his head a little, letting out a quite sigh of relief.

“They tried to,” I added after a moment, which made Daryl’s gaze snap back up to me. “But it’s going to take more than three idiots walking with down a concrete alleyway with hard sole shoes to take me down.”

“You heard ‘em,” Daryl guessed, his voice hoarse.

I nodded. “Like a fucking stampede of moronic inbreds.”

“What’d you do?”

“What do you think I did?”

We looked at each other over the table for a long moment as he tried to inspect every inch of my expression. I let him, waiting for his response, knowing full well he had likely already guessed.

“You killed ‘em,” he answered.

“Only one,” I corrected. It had been months and I still remembered the feel of his nails biting into my hips as he tried hold me still enough to cut off my jeans. Every now and then, I would feel them upon me like a phantom itch and would have to brush the palm of my hands across my skin just to be sure there was nothing there.

I averted my gaze from Daryl’s, looking slightly over his shoulder with a tight frown. “I wasn’t gentle about it, either. Left his body in pieces. Took his head off and put it beside his two friends faces like a fucked-up jack-o’-lantern alarm clock.” Another pause, this time only so I could take a deep breath in an attempt to calm my racing mind. “That was before we knew we all had the virus. That people would turn without being bit. You can imagine the shock when his head started… you know, growling at me.” I shuddered. “I think that’s where Phil got the idea for his trophy room. From me.”

Daryl remained silent as I glanced down at the table, feeling the slightest heat of shame colour my cheeks.

“The other two,” I continued, “I’d just knocked out. But when they woke up with Marcus’s head right in front of their faces, they ranted and raved to everyone they could, telling them I was the Devil incarnate. And, once everyone heard about the body… the head… Well, it was hard to convince them otherwise.”

Daryl was watching me with an odd expression on his face, as if he partially understood why I’d done it but was just as equally disturbed by how I’d gone about it.

I finally met his eyes again and gave him a hapless shrug. “Once more people started coming in, it became more of a, uh… urban legend type thing. Some people believed, some thought it was an exaggeration of some old incident no one really cared to remember anymore. Others just outright thought it was bullshit – that we’d made it up to make me look more intimidating.”

It was understandable reasoning. I may have been covered in tattoos, with a lean and well-muscled physique, but I wasn’t exactly what one would picture when they thought “Devil incarnate”. I knew I wasn’t difficult to look at. With white-blonde hair, icy blue eyes paired with my dark skin, I had this otherworldly, sharp kind of beauty that most found just as unnerving as they did enticing. Not to mention the pointed ears. I’d explained them away by remarking on the common practice of body-modification. People took one look at my tattoos and brought the idea I’d be into that kind of thing quite easily. Despite that, however, I still only stood at just over five-seven and was actually rather good natured on a normal day. My sense of humour and generosity helped ease some of my bad reputation, until all that was left of it was a covert whisper of caution between neighbours, a warning not to get on my “bad side”.

We both sat in silence for a long moment as he mulled over the rest, looking down at the table with a perplexed expression. I slid to the side, so I was straddling the chair, and leant sideways against the edge of the table as I looked up at the stream of sunlight coming in through the window. Birds were chirping nearby, barely loud enough to be heard over the moans of the dead in the field, but I could still make them out. My breathing began to slow as I focused on the sound, letting my mind and body relax for a long few minutes. Sometime during my explanation, my heartbeat had begun to race. I don’t know if it had been nerves or just the memory of what had happened, but I needed a moment to let it slow down.

Thankfully, Daryl took an exceedingly long time to run through his own thoughts. By the time I think he had finally figured out what he wanted to say, the sound of movement by the cellblock door made him close his mouth and tighten his shoulders.

Merle had returned.

The rest of the day was mostly uneventful.

Which, in hindsight, was probably a good thing. Merle, Daryl, and I spent most of it outside, sitting behind the wooden pallets they’d pushed up against the wire fence of the second-floor walkway, scopes trained on the tree line. Not much was said between us. Merle was still grumpy and Daryl, I guessed, didn’t usually talk much anyway.

They were a stark contrast, those two, yet somehow more alike than I think either of them cared to admit.

My favourite likeness of theirs was the way they scrunched up their noses when they were in deep thought. It made Merle look like that one Muppet that’s always in the theatre box, and Daryl… Well, it just made him look adorable and that’s all I’ll say on that.

Around lunchtime, Carol came outside carrying two tins of peaches. She handed both to Daryl with a soft smile before heading back inside. I watched her go curiously. Something about her was just… interesting to me. Didn’t know what, but I couldn’t quite shake the feeling there was more to her wiry frame than met the eye.

Daryl used his bowie knife to open one of the cans and tipped it towards me with a nod.

“Here,” he grunted.

I tentatively put my fingers in and pulled out a soggy piece of peach, popping it into my mouth before returning my gaze to the trees.

Daryl pulled out one with his free hand and tilted his head back, dropping the peach down into his opened mouth.

“Oh, thanks, brother,” Merle remarked. “How kind of you to offer.” He reached out and snatched the can from Daryl’s grasp, tipping the entire thing into his mouth. Well, he tried to. More peach went onto his shirt than down his throat before Daryl had the chance to snatch the can back.

“The hells wrong with you?” he yelled. “That’s all we damn got!”

“What? I was hungry,” Merle responded though a mouthful, using his able hand to pick pieces of fallen peach from his shirt. “You know what I’m like when I’m hungry.”

“Yeah. An asshole.”

“That much different than your everyday self?” I asked, my head still turned toward the field.

“Like you can talk,” Merle spat. “Little Miss McMurder.”

I turned my head slowly to give him a challenging look. “You know, I’ve always meant to ask if you and Martinez had to sit down and brainstorm that one out, or if it came to you naturally, like your unbridled affinity for turning your mouth into an asshole at a moment’s notice, spitting out nothing but shit?” Twisting my body more in his direction, I gave him a mock look of shock. “Oh, my God. Is that your superpower? Are you Asshole Mouth Man?”

“Ah, shut up,” Merle grumbled. “You ain’t funny.”

“Funnier than you,” I snapped back.

“Ain’t hard,” Daryl remarked.

I glanced over at him with a smile to find a grin already pulling at the corners of his lips. When our gazes met, he held mine for barely more than a second before averting his eyes, cheeks growing red.

Merle reached out for the other can of peaches, which Daryl snatched out of his grasp and held it to his chest, protectively.

“You ain’t gettin’ no more after that,” Daryl growled.

“Bullshit I ain’t,” Merle snapped back. “Hand ‘em over, little brother.”

I watched the two of them begin to basically wrestle for the can, a brow cocked in muted amusement. Is this what actual brothers were supposed to be like? I was unsure whether I was jealous or relieved that I was estranged from my brothers, that they were barely more than strangers to me. In fact, I’d only ever met two out of the six brothers I supposedly had. Usually, I tried not to think about them, focusing instead on the man I called brother yet shared no blood with. Sterling. He was the son of my – second – adoptive father and had always treated me like his baby sister, even when neither of us had actually known of his relation to Alister.

The memory of Sterling made my heart begin to ache and the slight smile that had been on my lips as I watched the two brothers wrestling for a can of damn peaches began to fade.

Remnants of distant memories began to cloud my mind as I turned away from the two men and looked back out over the field, seeing without seeing. It had been so long since I’d last seen Sterling. We’d had a stupid argument that had ended with me slamming the door on him. He hadn’t wanted me to take another contract so soon after the last one, worried that I was burying myself in my job instead of actually dealing with my problems. Instead of dealing with the grief of losing my baby sister. And I’d known he was right, which, of course, had made me angry. Cue the yelling match and door slamming.

That was how I’d left things with the man I called brother. God, it hurt to think about. I’d known the second those bombs had dropped on Atlanta that New York had likely suffered a similar fate. I didn’t doubt Sterling and our father had had the sense to get out of the city before it reached that point and I trusted that both men were likely still alive, somewhere out there. If I could survive out here, they certainly could. After all, Sterling’s father, Alister, had been the one that had taught me almost everything I knew.

Somehow, through my rambling thoughts and over the ruckus coming from the two men behind me, I heard the car coming. My head jerked in the direction of the field. It was much too early for Rick and the others to be on their way back. I felt my entire body go into high alert as I peered through the gaps in the pallet, through the holes in the fence, to the edge of the tree line where the road began.

“Guys,” I said, not turning around.

They didn’t hear me.

“Oi! Assholes!” I yelled.

That got their attention. Daryl was lying on his back, one arm extended, fist clenched at the front of Merle’s shirt, the other, still holding the peaches, was thrown over his face. Merle hovered over him, his sharp metal arm behind his back while the other was latched onto the edge of Daryl’s leather vest. Their heads turned in my direction.

I jerked my thumb out towards the road. “We might have a problem.”

The two men pushed one another away, scrambling across the concrete to sit beside me and peer through the slit in the wooden pallet at the road. I did the same.

It was an old blue Camaro, making its way leisurely down the road outside the prison, a white flag tied to the tip of the antenna. Even from this distance, I could just make out the features of the man behind the wheel.

“It’s Sean,” I whispered, turning to glance at Merle.

He looked at me from the corner of his eye. “I don’t like this.”

I felt Daryl’s shoulder brush mine and looked at him, watching his eyes narrow at the approaching vehicle as it began to make its way up the path through the biter infested field. Reaching out, I gently tapped his upper arm. “You two stay here. I’ll go.”

“No,” Daryl argued.

“I know him,” I replied evenly. “And he knows me. I’ll be able to tell if he’s spinning bullshit. Besides, better I get shot than you.”

He opened his mouth to argue again but I was already standing, making my way over to the door. I heard Merle tell him to relax, that I had a handle on it, but I could still sense Daryl’s unease. Whether it was because he didn’t trust me, or because he didn’t like the situation as a whole, I didn’t know. I didn’t stick around to ask.

Carol, Hershel, and Glenn all gave me curious looks as I made my way through the main section of the cellblock. Maggie, who had been standing guard by the wire gate that lead out to the courtyard, glanced at me as I stepped through the cellblock door.

“Know him?” she asked.

I came to a stop beside her and nodded. “Well enough.”

We both stood in silence for a moment, watching the blue Camaro come to a halt by the closed wire gate. Biters began to claw at the car, scratching at the windows while Sean merely gazed apathetically out the front window, eyes locked on the two of us.

“If I get shot,” I whispered to her lightly, leaning sideways so I was close enough to covertly unclip the keys from her belt without her knowing. “Tell Merle I’ve always thought he’d look much better with a mullet.”

Maggie blinked at me, somewhat surprised by my odd remark, and watched me as I began to make my way across the courtyard with a confused look on her face. I heard her shocked intake of breath when she noticed I’d snatched the keys from her belt loop, but she did nothing to stop me.

Sean’s gaze remained locked on me as I approached, too. He and I were friendly enough usually, though I could see the betrayal and contempt behind his eyes the closer I got to the gate.

When I reached the chained edge of the wire gate, I came to a standstill, looking out through the diamond-shaped gaps, through the front window of the Camaro, at Sean. My gaze narrowed as it scanned the inside of the car, as best I could from this angle. I didn’t reach down and grab the chain until I was absolutely certain he was alone.

The gate scraped against the concrete as I pulled it open, barely far enough for him to get the car through. One of the biters got caught by the side mirror and was dragged inside along with him. I slid the gate closed before I dealt with it, using one of the two knives Rick had been comfortable enough to give me.

Once that was dealt with, I leant up against the driver’s side door and bent over, gazing through the tinted window at Sean’s passive expression.

Slowly, without breaking eye contact, he manually wound down the window.

“What is it, mate?” I asked, keeping my tone as light and non-confrontational as I could.

“The Governor sent me,” Sean answered, and I immediately felt my shoulders tense. “I’m not here to make trouble, just pass on a message.”

I surveyed his expression, which was as blank as it always was, and looked into his eyes, trying to gage the seriousness of the situation. Was this the kind of message that involved a bullet to my face? No. He didn’t look nervous enough for that. In fact, he looked kind of bored. As if he had better things to do than play a passive game of Chinese Whispers.

“Go on, then,” I said carefully.

“He wants to meet,” he told me. “Wants a sit down with Rick.”

I snorted. “Does he now?”

Sean nodded once. “He’s set the place and time. All Rick’s gotta do is show up.” He reached down into the centre console and pulled out a torn off piece of a map. There was a message scrawled across the back of it, and I recognised the handwriting instantly. It was from Philip.

“Meet at noon. Bring no more than three men. We’ll discuss our options.”

I shook my head, staring down at the note with furrowed brows for another moment before meeting Sean’s gaze. “We both know this is bullshit, right?”

Sean shrugged. “Is what it is.”

“He’s gonna kill the guy.”

Sean’s green eyes grew slightly more intense, narrowing into slits. “So what?”

“So?” I echoed. “He doesn’t deserve it.”

“He shot up our home,” Sean hissed back with more vigour than I’d seen from him in a long time. “Let a bunch of biters in! We lost seven people.”

I blinked, taking a slight step back in surprise. That was news to me. Something cold settled in the pit of my stomach as I stepped back up to the driver’s side window, looking down at him with more intensity than before. “Who?”

“Lucy and Will,” Sean responded quickly, voice slightly shaken. “Amber. Conner. Juan and Marie.”

I could feel the sharp point of sorrow begin to pierce the inside of my throat. They had been good people. Good, innocent people. I swallowed back against the rising grief, taking a deep breath and forcing my expression to remain neutral. “That’s six,” was all I said.

Sean nodded. His eyes were locked on me so intensely I was almost disturbed. I didn’t understand why until a moment later, when he opened his mouth and told me the seventh name. He’d been waiting for my reaction. He wanted to see how hard it would hit me.

“Jasmine.”

It was like a punch to the gut. The amount of effort it took to remain standing, to stop myself from squeezing the joint where the side-mirror met the body of the car so hard I’d snap it right off, was almost enough to make me pass out. My throat tightened, chest constricting, mouth twitching ever so slightly into a frown. But I kept myself together. Secured that assassin’s mask of neutrality across my face.

“Was it quick?” I asked, the slight tremor in my voice betraying my emotion.

Sean scowled. “Biter tore off most of the flesh on her shoulder. By the time we found her, she already had the fever. Her mom made her ride it out and didn’t get the head ‘till after she Turned.”

Fucking Christ. That poor kid. That poor, innocent, kind-hearted kid. She’d been no older than Carl.

I took a long, deep breath to steady myself. “Fuck. I’m sorry.”

“You should be,” Sean spat before jerking his head toward the prison. “It was them. They let them in.”

“Sean…” I started, but he cut me off.

“No, I ain’t here to listen to your excuses. You got your message. Tell Rick if he wants to sort this shit out, we’ll be waitin’. Now open that damn gate.”

I looked down at him as he straightened in his seat, staring steadily out the front window. A muscle in his jaw jumped as he clenched his teeth. Trying to apologise would only be pushing my luck at that point, and I knew it. So, I took a deep breath and nodded.

“Alright,” I said, turning toward the gate.

Once he was gone, I remained standing by the fence, watching his car disappearing into the distance for a few minutes. Maggie approached me slowly and reached up to put a gentle hand on my shoulder. “You alright?”

I ignored the question, lifting the keys in one hand and offering them back to her. “Sorry ‘bout that.”

She just let out a soft breath through her nose before taking them back, clipping them securely onto her belt loop. Without another word, she turned back toward her post.

I remained standing there for another moment, trying to piece my thoughts together, to sort through the roller-coaster of emotions warring inside me. Swallowing back against the sharp sensation in my throat, I turned around and began to make my way back to the cellblock.

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