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the-slasher-files · 3 years

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OC: ANDREI DIMITRIYEVICH KULOKOVA

- Кулокова Андрея Дмитриевича -

- HIS MASTERLIST -

- PLAYLIST -

- PINTEREST BOARD -

Nickname: Drei, North, Wolf

s/o nicknames for him: Drei, Andryusha, Daddy, Yusha, Bunny (he hates it but secretly loves it)

What he calls his s/o: Myshka (little mouse in Russian), baby, baby girl, darling and beloved

Age: 27 - born on April 11th (Aries sun, Taurus moon, Sagittarius rising)

Gender: Male

Sexuality: Bisexual. This is still today very looked down upon in Russia but he wears it as a badge of honour, plus who is going to ever mess with him??

Nationality: half Russian, half Norwegian

Languages: Russian, Ukrainian, Norwegian, English, Romanian, German

Voice: Rough, raspy, deep, thick Russian accent that can make anyone swoon with a low almost growl behind his words.

Occupation: Ex Solider, now is a Mercenary

Location: He travels but his home base is Northern Russia in the middle of nowhere, just outside an abandoned industrial town. Andrei lives in a farmhouse with miles of field all around, he uses the abandoned buildings to play with his victims, and hold them there using them however he wants. - map linked here -

Hair: Light Brown, Faux Hawk all the way down to his neck - hair hcs linked here -

Eyes: Icy blue, sometimes look white in the reflection of snow on a sunny day. Intense. Sharp. Powerful. When he is killing his pupils are blown wide and a darkness that seeps into the blue from the rims almost making them look black.

Height: 6′5

Body: He is like a wolf; powerful, a beautiful mix of lean and strong, broad shoulders, has stamina for days but is powerful enough to kill even after a 12 hour hunt. Scars litter his body from tiny ones to very deep raised jagged ones. Most noticeably he has long jagged one on his right cheek, one that curves up his nose starting at his left nostril, one going from his forehead down to his cheek on his left side, another at the bottom of his jaw moving upward on the right side, and a massive one almost a foot long going from his collar bone along his chest, that is the deepest and most deadly one caused by his sister. He also has a chunk of his right ear missing from a bullet. Rarely he shows his smile but when he does it is crooked and charming, its complete with incredibly sharp canine teeth. (Andrei loves to bite)

Tattoos: On his left palm he was the words "NO GODS"

Clothes: Cargo pants of some kind, either black, tan or camo. Black military boots. Black long sleeve or black tight t-shirt. 95% of the time he will wear some kind of holsters or vest, man isn't opposed to wearing harnesses either. This guy is a big jacket lover; sometimes he will be in a camel or black knee-length coat, sometimes it is an army jacket, somedays its just a plain black shell jacket. Whatever is the most practical this man puts on. Always carries a black bandana or balaclava, just in case. While at a job he wears a steel half face skull mask that is kind of a hybrid of wolf teeth and human teeth.

Weapons/fight style: Military special forces combat, SR-1 Vektor pistol, Vitzay-SN submachine gun or AK-74M assault rifle, Akela knife (always in his boot) and the Smersh-5 knife. Bear traps but only for taunting and for chasing people through the town.

Preferred Method of Kill: Bare hands or his knives.

Motive: Pleasure/ Raw Desire

Smell: Musk, sex, earl gray tea, dirt, amber, cedarwood and tobacco (he smokes cheap cigarettes), with a hint of metallic that never seems to leave

Constant Metaphor I will be using for him: Wolves

PERSONALITY

So, I won't lie, I made Andrei super dynamic and over the year of having him, he has sort of developed into almost a real person so there is a lot to him.

At first, meeting the Russian he gives off a harsh and cold vibe like the Siberian tundra but there is some kind of allure and charm to the wolf that not many have, perhaps a deep mystery. When he walks into a room, Andrei demands attention whether he likes it or not and this isn't just because of his stature, he is a natural leader with a hidden curiosity behind his eyes if you get the chance to look long enough.

Andrei is rough and abrasive when you first speak to him, usually some sort of smart remark or pick up line or even a threat will come from him but it is more so in curiosity than with malice, at least sometimes. I always think of him as a young curious lone wolf that has been on the hunt for a new pack. He was isolated a lot of his life or around other people similar to him so he sees regular civilians as toys; unsure of their reactions and always wanting to see what makes them tick. But also very much at the same time, he is very standoffish and he defiantly has to come to you, not the other way around. Andrei goes by raw desire and instinct with most things in his life and he trusts it wholeheartedly and is extremely confident in that.

Speaking of confidence, that is something Andrei exudes in the way he speaks, his body language and in his killing ability but deep down Andrei hides that he is constantly thinking and calculating behind the surface. Think of Andrei as a feral dog in most ways of his personality, always more beast than human and always thinking.

Now obviously, Andrei is a very sick and sadistic person always trying to see what you would be useful for and taking pleasure in people's pain, so much so that he gets off to it and will inflict especially with his hot and quick temper. He kills and hunts people for a living, it was something that has been ingrained in him to love and seek pleasure in. With him being more animal than man in a lot of ways, he has deep sick desires he has to release on playthings.

Now, if you manage to become his friend, partner or ever long time plaything he is loyal to his death bed, obsessive and the ultimate yandere. Andrei is almost desperate for people and for a pack, for a family, one without kids. He will do anything for his soulmate because deep down inside he has the fear of abandonment and this goes a little for his friends and longtime plaything as well, just not everything. With the ones he holds close, you get to see the rarest Andrei, when he is fun and carefree, he loves to go shooting, go dirt biking, and have drink-offs that can turn into fistfights or fucking but to him that is all part of the fun.

BIOGRAPHY

Andrei and his little sister, Amaria, were born in Moscow Russia to mother Eva, of Norway, and father Dimitri Kulokova, of Russia. Very shortly after the birth of Amaria, the family moved to a small town many hours north of Moscow, living on a plot of land that was baron for most months out of the year with the exception of a small woodland area leading into a national protected forest. This land was also only a few kilometres from Dimitri's brother, Viktor.

Dimitri and Viktor had been through a lot together living under the communist regime of the USSR, surviving on scraps and whatever they could hunt, they had also been forced into the military as young men and served more than 10 years together. Viktor had gone into a special forces unit dealing closely with dictators and international affairs, however, his brother did not follow him for Dimitri found a beautiful wife that melted his cold heart, Eva. Viktor was burned by the idea of his brother leaving him and began to realize Dimitri had always gotten everything in life; the looks, the wife, love from both parents, children and money. It was time for Viktor to shine once they moved close to him. On a hunting trip, Viktor killed Dimitri but staged it as falling and breaking his neck on a rocky hillside. Eva needed support and moved in with Viktor bringing the kids with her, they soon found out he was very mentally ill; throwing around conspiracy theories about the government, how people were after him, how his family had always hated him, etc. His sick and twisted views of the world forced him to raise Andrei and Amaria like soldiers, training them in combat, guns, knives, traps, land mines and hiding evidence.

Viktor held the family captive and made them love him, Eva was broken in grief from Dimtri dying, allowing Viktor to brainwash her into loving him. It was an extremely abusive home mentally and physically with Andrei and Eva getting most of the abuse. Andrei tried to protect his little sister as much as he could but it was too late for dangerous things to seep into her mind.

Quickly, Andrei was feeding into sick desires that were made ok by his uncle, already having anger issues and homicidal thoughts after his dad died, and in an extreme fit of rage and praise from Viktor, Andrei stabbed and choked his mother to death only at age 12 as Amaria watched and was held back by their uncle.

With Viktor raising them from here on out, the real extreme brainwashing and corruption began. Setting up tests for the siblings in survival and combat, resulting in Amaria and Andrei almost killing each other several times; most noticeable when Amaria took a machete to his chest, resulting in the largest scar on his body. Viktor was making Andrei into a killing machine and would take him to grab hitchhikers or prostitutes to hunt, kill and fuck, twisting together the pleasure and the kill in Andrei's mind.

When Andrei was 16 and Amaria was 14, Viktor was in a mental breakdown and getting worse, leaving Viktor in the underground bunker ready to shoot himself but at this point, Andrei was ready to finally kill his uncle from being fed up with the abuse and seeing what it was doing to his sister. Andrei wanted to be the only one to be the one to kill his uncle, not to have him kill himself, it was part of the hunt and the desire that drove him down to the bunker where he impaled the knife deep inside Viktor's chest just as the gun went off to kill himself, thus, Andrei never knew what exactly it was that killed his uncle. Andrei sat there in the bunker for hours, covered in blood and the kill desire only grew stronger from the unsatisfied kill, his first unsuccessful hunt, driving him to always make sure a job was finished and finished his way.

With these events, Andrei protected and took care of his Amaria until she was 17 when they had a fight that almost killed them both and burnt down Viktor's home. Amaria and Andrei went their separate ways, he went to the army at 19 and she became a nomad.

The desire for blood, the thrill of the hunt and his training with guns and combat lead him to the army, more specifically a special ops unit, mainly dealing with undercover operations of large mafia or spy groups. Andrei was the best in the unit but his desires got the better of him sometimes, ruthlessly spilling blood, costing the lives of his brothers in the unit. His commander, Lev (meaning lion), saw Andrei as almost a son to him and saw the potential for him to be a good man and the perfect soldier and would often cover up the kills for Andrei resulting in him moving up the ranks to lead his own teams and his own undercover missions.

Andrei was called The Wolf or code name: North. Often times he would be sent in alone, knowingly taking out 10 men at once with his bare hands and knives.

However, one operation went horribly wrong; Andrei (25) was undercover posing as a spy for a group called The Willows, they were executing 5 men that had crossed them. The smell of blood, the noises of the bullets cutting the air, the pleas and begs of the men tied up drove Andrei into a feral craze, killing the group that he gained the trust of but they had unexpected back up. As Andrei's Russian special ops arrived several of his brothers were killed and Andrei himself took 2 bullets; one in the shoulder, and one in his stomach. His best friend in the army tried to pull Andrei off the man he was choking, he was taking his time, loving the feeling of life draining under his hands, once he was pulled away Andrei was still in his feral state, stabbing his friend in the neck. He had gone rogue, lost in desire. The other soldiers has tried to stop him but it was too late, Andrei was spilling blood and not caring who was in his way.

There was only one man that had walked away from the incident, only because he knocked out Andrei. The man fled and told his commanding officer, Lev, but this became too big to cover up and the secrets were starting to slip between soldiers and the only way Lev would get out of this without being immediately executed was for Lev to give the wolf up as he was being heavily sedated and kept unconscious in a prison.

Once Andrei woke up in his jail cell, he knew there was only one way to get out and that was to fight. Once they had arrangements set up, the wolf was set to be transported to the highest security prison in Russia, a convoy of armoured trucks were driving the unarmed Andrei when he broke out in a fight and killed 23 men, escaping in the Siberian tundra and now on the run, being the ghost of Eastern Europe.

He will accept almost any job around Eastern Europe. Andrei's signature is using a bear trap to subdue the subject, only bringing them home to his abandoned town, letting them struggle and run fruitlessly as he hunts, always ending up choking his victims or stabbing them.

SPECIAL NOTES

There is a big mistake with Andrei's name but I will not change it because it has been a long time but anyway, it is supposed to Kulokov instead of Kulokova so I'm just gonna say it was a mistake on his birth certificate

For questions and answers, look up #Drei Answers

For aesthetic posts, look up #Andrei Aes

#OC #oc stuff #Andrei Kulokova #horror #slasher #character info sheet #my writing

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athena-is-a-chaotic-lil-shit · 3 years

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Getting back at writing, is, well, hard. My grammar and vocabulary and basically everything is messed up so I apologize in advance for that. It's been, almost a year ever since my last written fic. That time I was still crazy with Kimetsu no Yaiba and the KyoTan ship. I'll post it some other time ^^.

Anyways, I present to you my attempt in making a plotted work from a random thought that came over me this morning.

Pairing: Tai'chi Kashharzol (Orc) x Pearl Blackbell (Human OC/Reader)

Warnings: Basically none. Except for some curse words.

UD 01/10/21: Cleaned and revised some parts! Tried my best, hope it was enough.

•

Of Ice and Blood

Part 1

Quick backstory and some details I left out in the main work.

It was in summer, 28th of July, when Pearl Blackbell turned 19. She left her home and moved closer to the university she’ll be going to. She rented an apartment about five blocks from the school. Albeit small, it was cozy and proper, having what she needed: a kitchen, a decent-sized bedroom, a small living area with a worn but comfy couch, and a bathroom.

When she was younger, her parents started training her in martial arts and the use self-defense weapons. They needed to make sure she knew how to protect herself against assaulters and dangerous people, she was after all, their only child and baby girl . They want their daughter to be strong, both inside and outside, by the time she sets out on her own and leaves home.

Her favorite self-defense weapon was brass knuckles, despite her parents’ protests. She enjoys punching nasty people and feel the crunch of their bones beneath her fists, especially racists, sexists, bullies, and the lot. The main reason why she got into detention multiple times.

Painting it with a ruddy color, she keeps it in her person, no matter where she goes. She has two, one is for extreme situations, while the other has only two knuckles. It stills maximizes the damage dealt but it is relatively less dangerous than the full dusters. The second one is usually a spare, though she rarely uses it.

She also occasionally carries a pair of retractable nunchucks, which she designed to be hidden within her regular baggy clothes. Her father had trained her vigorously with them and she even bested him in a match before she left for the city.

Selkoth, the city of marvels.

Distant sounds of buzzing cars reached my ears as I opened my eyes and blinked away the sleepiness, the light shining from the spaces in my curtains rather helping, together with the warmth it brought to my chilled tawny skin.

[Start of the actual work]

I fully woke up as I registered the sound of my phone alarm, shortly getting up to prepare when I realized what day it was.

Monday, the first day of my college life.

I stepped into the bathroom and took a quick shower, knowing I bathed thoroughly last night to save some time today.

Time management is key.

I dried myself down, turned to my closet and started putting on the outfit I picked out the night before.

Prioritizing comfortability over appearance, I wore my favorite orange cotton shirt, my blackish-blue hoodie (that had been stained with blood some time ago, but don’t worry, I know how to clean out blood. Mama raised no fool.) over it, together with a pair of black skinny jeans. And of course, tight black sports bra and boxers, even mentioning my underwear yes?

I looked over to my mirror and it was—

Simple. And I loved it. The more simple it is the better.

'“Keep a low profile over there, sweetie. Don’t get into fights when you can help it okay??? We already taught you and prepared you to the best of our abilities. Promise to us that you’ll stay safe, and healthy. Okay? And don’t forget to call sometime.”' I sighed, remembering my mother’s words.

"Yes mama, I will.”

With a smile, I did my hair and went for a tight Dutch braid, it going down between my shoulder blades and ending a little above my waist. I ran to my kitchen to eat breakfast, satisfied with my look.

I eat fast okay

Backpack, check. White sneakers, check. Phone and keys, check. Airpods on, playlist shuffled, I bolted out of my apartment and jogged all 50 blocks to school.

Exercise is always important, and what other way to utilize time for exercising than to do it while heading to your destination, right?

I snickered.

As I made my way to the university, I saw bizarre creatures and monsters of different sizes, coexisting, and interacting with humans. Even so, I noticed other people’s disdain and bitterness towards them when I passed by. My nose is awfully sensitive to scents that sometimes the ones their body releases tells me what they feel at the moment. It’s all science, I guess. I was made extra susceptible to these, so I wear a mask everywhere and every time I go out just to partly block most of the smells.

My first day at a university open to everyone across the country gets my blood pumping with excitement. To think that I’m going to study at Ernestine State University, the Ernestine State University!

I first heard about the uni back when I was a child. News broke out about Victor Ernestine, committing suicide by driving his car off a cliff because he couldn’t accept that his daughter was one of the major leaders who made the unity of all people, of all races, possible.

Dramatic.

Months after Mr. Ernestine died, all his properties and riches were passed down to her daughter, who took over as the new founder of the university and rebuilt it to accommodate everyone, no matter the size and shape.

The strictly all-human school, renovated, reshaped, and repurposed, was now the first university to open its gates to everyone in the country of Yundomia.

I’ve always yearned to get to know other species in this world. I didn’t get the chance previously because my parents sent me to an all-human, local high school. Which sucks. I hated how everyone had a certain hatred for the other races, especially orcs. They keep talking about how they are wild beasts and savages that aren’t meant to be in society.

They treated them like animals that are void of emotions and intelligence.

Come to think of it, I mostly fought with humans who were either racist, bullies, bastards trying to hit on me, or a mix of all of them together.

I chuckled, remembering how many times I got counseled on not punching people in the face.

High school was pure torture, being a human-exclusive campus making it worse, considering how everybody smells so horrible and the principal was an egoistic dumbass I was a hair away from gutting him. My poor nose.

But now I’m done with that! I’m starting anew in this school, in this city. Perhaps make some friends along the way.

Which is kinda problematic.

I’m not the social type. I tend to keep things to myself and hardly open up to anybody. I wanna make at least one friend that isn’t human! Or just, one good friend. I didn’t have or made any friends in the past since people tend to shun me out just because I can tell how they are feeling and find it creepy.

Or they’re afraid to get punched in the face.

Entering the campus gates was like stepping into another world. I was met with the sight of humans and monsters walking together and conversing! It was nice, and I don’t get to see this much often.

I walked around and took in the landscape of the campus. It was huge! And beautifully designed to have a great number of trees and plants, while also having space more than enough to accommodate every student going to their respective classrooms.

I was minding my own business and it was all serene, until some bastards pushed past through me and knocking me to the side. I stumbled but didn’t fall. I was gonna say something, but I shut my mouth. I didn’t want to cause any trouble on the first day for goodness’ sake. So I brushed it off and went straight to the gym for the orientation.

*************************************

The orientation was, intriguing. The dean seems nice, though I couldn't smell him from where I sat. There's also a student council made up of both humans and monsters which is a good sign. The student council president was a Minotaur with a dark brown coat and horns curving front and pointing up. The vice-president was a male student who looked decent enough. The secretary was an elf. The treasurer, a dwarf. And the rest were humans. I couldn't scent any of them to tell me what they were feeling at the moment, but the Minotaur looked uncomfortable, his hands behind his back, body going stiff when they were introduced to the freshmen. There was a larger numbr of humans than monsters, which was expected. I also noticed how both were grouped, a white line in the middle of the gym separating us from them.

Maybe to avoid any misunderstandings?

We were informed that today will be for introductions to your classmates and subject teachers so there will be no lessons at all. Hooray!

I was walking to my first classroom when a damned familiar smell attacked my nose. I stopped to stand for a moment and adjusted my mask. I looked around to spot the one emitting it and of course, saw a human. He looked, well, the typical playboy cool boy who used too much body spray on himself.

Not wanting to stand there like an idiot and prolong my suffering, I speed walk to my classroom and planned to sit at the back hoping no one would notice or ask why I’m wearing a mask.

That's always what they ask first. Not my name or how I was doing.

I expected to find no one inside since it was still early, but I was startled to see a massive orc sitting at the back looking out at the window. He was wearing a dark gray knitted sweater that was hugging his hulking frame very…well. Along with what looked like thick cargo pants and black boots.

He turned to look at me when I let out a small yelp, greeting me with his piercing, blue eyes.

Beautiful.

The orc had long, braided, jet-black locks. Two of them had distinct beads that trailed down from the side of his face and down to his chest, the rest of his hair behind him braided with intricacy and tied and ended halfway down his back.

I was pushed out of my trance when a person entered and crashed into me, swearing under my breath that it was intentional, nearly making me plant face-first on the trash bins if I hadn’t changed my footing at the last moment.

“Watch it, bitch, you’re gonna ruin my make-up,” she snapped.

Wow. She dared to call me that and not apologize like I’m the one who shoved her. Just wow. Usually at this point, I would have planted her face on the floor, but I stopped myself.

Low profile! Low profile Pearl! You’re in college now! You definitely don’t want to get suspended on the first fucking day of class now do you?? Keep it together.

Straightening up, I walked towards the back and sat beside the orc. Whose gaze fell on me, curious, when I wasn’t looking.

I made myself settled in my seat before the professor came in.

There were other races in my class. A blue tiefling sat three rows in front, wearing a casual outfit. A black-haired elf who looked and dressed clever, a row away. A cute pink pixie on my far right. A satyr wearing glasses, two seats in front of me, and a female lizardfolk a seat from of the pixie.

"Are you...alright?"

I almost jumped from my seat when the orc beside me spoke. I couldn’t help but admire how deep his voice was. I tried not to appear flustered, my mask helped with that.

“Uh…yes?”

The orc regarded me for a second before continuing.

“You were pushed earlier.”

Oh. He saw that?

“Oh, yeah, I’m okay.” I smiled at him. Then I remembered he can’t see my face. But I hoped the crinkling of my eyes gave it away.

“I’m Pearl, by the way.” I reached out my hand to him, socializing not my best suit but at least I tried.

He paused for a second before taking it into his bigger one, engulfing mine and shook it slowly. I was again, surprised by how gentle he was.

“Tai'chi.”

Interesting.

“Nice to meet you, Tai'chi.”

He lets go of my hand when the professor started talking up front.

“Nice to meet you too, Pearl."

***************************************

Thoughts? I am wide open for constructive criticism :D

Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6

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sugarsugarmoon · 3 years

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Teaser! Full fic coming in December 2020!

Background: Most people know about the eruptions of volcanoes like Mt. Vesuvius, Mt. St. Helen’s, Mount Fuego, and Eyjafjallajökull, but beneath the surface of the earth exist 20 supervolcanoes. The largest regular volcanic eruption in recorded history spewed 50 cubic km of material. Mt. St. Helen’s: .25 km³. In comparison, the last supervolcano eruption exploded with more than 2800 cubic kilometers of material. So what would happen if 3 of the calderas in one of these systems erupted at the same time?

Summary: After the eruption of the Yellowstone, Island Park, and Henry’s Fork calderas, the state of the planet changes completely. Ash blocks out the sun and coats the streets. Millions died upon impact, and millions more from the after effects. The world is plummeted into volcanic winter, and the survivors have to relearn how to live their lives.

After years of staying put in your hometown with your best friend, Taehyung, waiting for your father to return, the two of you decide to make the journey through the Outlands to try to reach his family in New Toronto. All machinery has failed. Phones and radios are useless. Together, the two of you must survive the apocalypse to try to start a new life.

Along the way you encounter new friends, foes, and a mysterious stranger, who joins your gang but is hell-bent on revenge against the marauders who he blames for his sister’s death.

Genre: Science Fiction, Angst, some fluff, smut, post-apocalyptic fiction (just sayin…experts say supervolcanic eruption is the most likely natural cause of human extinction)

General Warnings: Death, Apocalyptic scenarios, smut, abandonment, anxiety

Credits: banner made by the AMAZING @suhdays @suhbanners

a/n: I’m not a scientist or a volcanologist, and also this is science fiction. The science might be tweaked to serve my purposes. But I have done a lot of research about the Yellowstone caldera, supervolcanoes, the end of the world, the end of the human race, other things that people with anxiety might do a lot of reading about. Also there’s more smut in this than I expected. Picked a whole bouquet of oopsie daisies.

🌋

You can’t remember a life before the Wasteland. You try to think back to fuzzy memories of your childhood, but there is nothing there. Some of your companions say they have vague memories of happy childhoods and blue skies, but you secretly think that they’re just repeating what they’ve heard from older folks.

🌋

Closing your eyes, your feet followed the sound. You were slightly wary that it could be a trap or a trick, but the melody was so intoxicating that you couldn’t stop yourself. Your legs carried you into the hall way and up the stairs. When your feet landed on the soft carpet of the corridor upstairs from you, your eyes snapped open. The music was louder here. And standing before you was the reason why. A tall, almost statuesque young man with no shoes and a violin stood before you, eyes closed as the bow dragged across the strings, creating another perfect chord.

“Uh...hi,” you mutter quietly.

His eyes shoot open, and he gasps. The bow drops to the floor, and he backs away from you slowly, never tearing his eyes from your face.

“I don’t have any food or water. Stay away.”

“No, no. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you. I...I live downstairs. I didn’t know that there was anyone else left in this building,” you say, reaching your hand out gently toward him as if that might provide some sort of comfort to him. Instead, he just withdraws from you further.

“Yeah right, like there was someone else living here without either of us noticing,” he rolls his eyes and stops in front of a door. His eyes dart to the handle, then it seems to dawn on him that he shouldn’t be showing a potential threat where he will be sleeping later.

“You don’t have to fear me. I’ll go back downstairs, and we can talk another time.”

You didn’t see him again for a while, but you did start to become aware of the little sounds that indicated that there was indeed someone living upstairs.

🌋

Standing before you is a figure clad in all black. The first thing you clock is the weapon pointed at you, ready to fire at any moment. Then you take in the appearance of the figure. Thick soled boots, black pants that are dotted with ash, a black hoodie with the hood pulled up, dark hair over dark eyes, and a black respirator covering the bottom half of their face.

They stand there completely still for a moment while the four of you back away. You instinctively reach for Teahyung’s hand, accepting that after all this time surviving the apocalypse, you were going to die. Then the figure begins to lower the weapon.

“Come with me,” they say in a stern voice.

“So you can murder us?!” Namjoon exclaims, his voice slightly trembling.

“I won’t kill you unless you’ve harmed my family. I promise.”

“Well, that’s reassuring,” Taehyung snorts under his breath. Luckily, the masks that you have to wear to keep the ash out of your lungs muffle it enough.

The figure raises the weapon again and motions you forward. You all reluctantly following, probably all coming to terms with your inevitable death. The figure leads you into a drainage tunnel that dead ends at a door. The door leads to a small, cottage-esque room that is dimly lit.

You look around at the scant amenities. A small, low table sits next to a cot in one corner of the room. When you look up, standing before you is someone so beautiful that you can’t believe this is the person that stopped you on the road. He hangs his hoodie on the hook next to a leather coat and straightens himself out.

“You know, you brought us back to where you live. That seems like a pretty bad idea, doesn’t it? You don’t know what we could do to you,” Namjoon says in a snarky tone.

He’s not wrong. It’s very rare that people let anyone know where they live anymore for fear of being raided for supplies or living space.

“I’m not worried about you.”

His voice is low and sullen, and you can’t tear your eyes away from his face. His skin is flawless even though it’s the raining bits of volcanic rock and cooled magma from the sky every day. Taehyung must catch you staring because he elbows you hard in the ribs.

“What do you want with us?” you finally pipe up, taking the mask off of your face. “We don’t have anything that you want.”

“Maybe. Maybe not,” he says, dragging his eyes across the three men’s faces to rest upon yours.

He pauses for a moment, takes in your face. His mouth hangs slightly open for just a moment, and you think that you might see him blush. Then he turns his attention to a corner of the room with several pictures taped to the wall. His blushing makes you blush, and Taehyung jabs you in the ribs again.

“Stop it,” you hiss.

“Now, why I brought you here: have any of you seen this girl?” He holds up a photo of himself and a girl who looks remarkably like him just with longer hair. She is smiling in the picture, holding a lily in her hand.

“No. Sorry,” Namjoon replies curtly.

“Look closely at it. Are you sure? Her name is Nari.”

“I looked closely at it. I haven’t seen her. Have any of you?” Namjoon looks at each of us with a pleading look in his eyes.

“No,” you all answer in chorus.

The man begins to cry, dropping to his knees with tears flowing down his cheeks. All four of you gasp a little bit at the sight in front of you and look at each other awkwardly. Finally, you step forward, lowering yourself to his level.

“Hey, it’s going to be okay. It might not feel like it now, but it will,” you coo to him, hoping that you can help him feel a little better. You don’t tell anyone not to cry anymore. Everyone cries a lot more now, just a lot more quietly.

#jungkook x reader #jungkook smut #taehyung x reader #taehyung smut #bts fanfic #jeon jungkook x reader #jk x reader #jjk x reader #kth x reader #jungkook fanfic #taehyung fanfic #fic teaser

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starr-fall-knight-rise · 4 years

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Humans are Space Orcs, “For Peace.”

Some more stuff involving humanity and the Drev war.

WARNING: this may be graphic? It wasn’t meant to be that, but I just thought I should warn you there is blood involved.

She definitely had not intended come. She wasn’t a soldier, and the idea of the war made her sick to think about, she knew it needed to happen, but that didn’t mean she lied it. The Runi weren’t exactly known for their war practices. In fact, in their history war had only been talked about as a theoretical possibility based on the idea of outing a poor government structure, but since the rundi had never had a poor government structure, there was no need for war.

But this was different, the Drev had only recently managed space flight, and because of their nomadic clan-like life no one had assumed their planet was inhabited . There was no infrastructure, and with the volcanic activity…. Well.

They generally tried to avoid meeting new species when they were at this point in space travel development. However, the Drev were smarter than they first appeared. They had had the ability to go to space for a long time, but never bothered to test it because it just wasn’t important to their culture. When they finally had left their planet, they ended up running into a Tesraki ship, which was trying to requisition precious metals from one of their moons.

Contact had been made peacefully enough with linguistics experts from the GA appearing and easily figuring out the Drev language.

It was a simple thing, very straight forward.

But the Drev just couldn’t fight their baser instincts, and that was to make war. After a slight insult based on cultural misunderstanding, the Drev leaders had promised to turn their sights to the stars conquering and fighting where they went. The GA had made a decision to push to destroy the technology that would allow them to do such a thing, but based on atmospheric composition, and the way they had hidden their technology deposits, this was about more than carpet bombing their facilities.

They had to actually go in.

And that was determined to be harder than they intended. The Drev War practices may have appeared primitive, but their tactics were not. They had been losing the battle, and even with the augmentation to their army with human troops and technology, they were being pushed back every day.

Officers were threatening to pull back off planet and just wait for the Drev to leave before blasting them to bits, but Drev shield technology was actually rather advanced and would take more than a little work to destroy.

Now she was here, having landed in one of the desolate lava fields before being secretly transported by hovercraft towards the very back of the front line. They could have landed closer, but the amount of ash towards the front was unprecedented and there were warning against trying to fly in such conditions

Her arrival was kept quiet, as she was ushered into what they had dubbed the FOB (forward operating base). Humans in strange patterned uniforms marches past in groups carrying their strange explosive sticks their heads covered by helmets and their face by masks. Little flakes of ash were falling from the sky and coating the ground in a thick layer that covered her feet as she walked.

The soldiers themselves were smeared with the ash, and blended heavily into the background making it difficult for her to make them out.

Large tents had been set up, and she could hear the strange guttural chant of human voices from inside. A tent flap was pushed back, and she looked inwards to see ash stained humans sitting around fires talking and interacting with each other.

Guards stood on lone vigils at the corners of the camps.

They had made it some way onto the base before being met by a familiar face. The human admiral was looking somewhat worse for wear, his face was covered in a layer of stubble, and his skin was covered in a layer of grime. His eyes once so gleeful were cold and hard almost haunted.

“Chairwoman.”

“Admiral…. How goes the battle.”

He man turned motioning her further into the camp, “I’m afraid not very well. We had assumed based on their more primitive war practices, that this would be an easy fight, however with the thick clouds of ash visibility is drastically reduced, and our ranged weapons become…. Almost pointless. They are generally right on top of us before we know they are there, and in that case they have the advantage. Their tactics are swift and brutal, they don’t necessarily aim to kill for some strange reason, but to brutally incapacitate usually by taking off limbs.”

She felt herself grow uncomfortably sick, “They take of limbs?”

“Yes dismemberment seems to be their favorite war tactic if they can manage it, and because we can’t see through this damned ash, not even our drones can, they always seem to have the upper hand, we've been pushed back almost constantly over the past month, and our soldiers are in pretty bad shape.” he walked further into the camp explaining how things ran and how the battle was fairing.

From his accounts, though he did not say it.

Not well.

The line had pulled back, and there were only three bases in operation aside from this one. Communications were being stalled do the volcanic activity, and that included satellite communications. They had no GPS no radar, and the drones wouldn’t fly in such thick ash.

All together it was as the human had put it

‘a shit show.’

He motioned her to follow after him.

“There is something…. I think you need to see.” Nervously she followed after the human’s long powerful strides easily able to keep up on her own long legs, but finding she was nowhere near as graceful as the human.

She watched him quietly from behind noting the slight slump of his shoulders and the weary way in which he walked feet dragging through the ash leaving long trails behind him. Had the human been so droopy before?

She couldn’t remember.

She wasn’t aware that humans could wilt?

They made their way past a group of men heading back from patrol. They were covered in ash and conversing quietly amongst one another. Her translation software had only so far a range, but she thought she heard them speaking about dismemberment.

They walked past another set of tents before stopping by a more established building.

He motioned her to step inside with him, and together with her guards they walked inside. Greeting them was a troop of humans and a Tesraki wearing HAZMAT gear.

They were ordered to gear up in protective covering before stepping into a second room where they were hosed off from all the ash. Spinning tendrils of dark ash spun towards a drain in the floor until the outside of their suits were relatively clean.

He paused before the door turning to look back at her from behind the surgical mask he wore, “What you are about to see ...is the epitome of the cost of war.” With one hand, he pushed the curtain aside and they stepped into a long, dark room lined from beginning to end with dozens of mats spaced evenly over the floor, and on each one of the mats lay a body.

She froze in the tent staring suddenly caught by the sound.

Soft moaning.

Keening

And the horrific wheezing gasp for air.

Other humans wandered through the triage tent tending to their wounded with soft words.

The man’s face had twisted into an angry snarl, “Fo the past few months the ash has restricted our access to supplies. Our ships can’t land for fear of gumming up the engines. We have been unable to replace our lost equipment, and so have only rudimentary medicine in order to treat our wounded.” He stepped up a row of wounded shivering under emergency blankets faces covered in light layers of sweat.

“This will be the first supply run we have received in weeks and with it the ability to take some of our wounded back to where they can get proper medical attention. Infection has been rampant despite our best efforts. Without modern technology, it’s like we are living in the goddamned dark ages.”

“Did you not bring these supplies when you first started the campaign.”

The man sighed in frustration, “We did but we, ‘I’ was overconfident. Our first three outposts were overrun by those beetles and with it most of our medical supplies.” he motioned around the room, “Those you see here are the men and women who managed to survive despite proper medical attention.”

The Rundi chairwoman tried not to look, tried not to see the horror that was in front of her, but there was no use, there was no turning away from that which she did not want to see. She glanced down at the humans splayed on piles of blankets and shivering with fever. She didn’t know much about humans, but she was vaguely aware of their ability to fight off infection by heating their bodies to unusual heat in order to burn off the infection.

It was supposedly an unpleasant process.

The human paused kneeling down next to one of the bodies pulling a blanket over the chest of a shivering human, “We ran out of painkillers two days ago.”

She was unable to keep her eyes away falling on one of the humans to her side. What she saw nearly had her running form the tent in shock and horror. The human that lay before her…. Was missing both of its legs. She…. at least she thought it was a she, opened feverish eyes mouth opening and lips trembling before her eyes rolled back. Bandages dark with ash and stained with red were tied about the stumps of her legs.

She lay on the floor quiet and unaided by medical technology.

Technology they should have had

Her vision widened finally forcing her to take in the view around her to match a symphony of moaning agony, guttural animal sounds to signify their pain. Whimpers and groans and weeping that died away only to be replaced by more.

The pitiful wailing of the dying.

“We are losing men, and we are doing it fast. A good portion of what we originally sent to you have either died or are in states like this.” A moan from her side, and she looked down to find a young man missing an arm, a rag covering both of his eyes. A yellow liquid stained the cloth.

She felt sick.

“With the transport you brought us a lot of our people will be able to get off and get medical attention. We have people moving them now. If all goes well, most of them should live.”

“And…. what about these?” She asked trying to keep her mind of the scene. A human just to the side of her missing an arm and a leg lay moaning pitifully on the ground. One of the hazmat dressed humans sat next to him gently holding his remaining hand.

The human didn’t appear to be doing anything medically relevant, but gently using their thumb to rub slow circles on the palm of the man’s remaining hand. It seemed strange, but that simple motion seemed to calm the human.

She was greeted by the feeling of horrible sadness as she looked.

“These…. Well. They have graciously volunteered for something special.”

They had almost reached the end of the tent now when, looking down at the floor, something caught her eye. The rundi chairwoman pulled to a stop staring at one of the humans. He was laid in the shadow of the tent at a distance from the lights. A roll of blankets had been propped up under his head and the stump of one of his legs, or what used to be his leg.

It was the right leg, and it had been severed an inch or two above the knee. A rag wrapped around the stump of his leg was red with blood.

His breathing was ragged and labored coming in forced gasps against what must have been excruciating pain, his face screwed up in agony

But it wasn’t that which had caught her attention.

“I…. I know him.” She stammered, stepping forward, “I know this one.”

The agitation in her voice must have been enough to rouse the human, who opened his eyes bleary and out of focus.

Even in this dim lighting she knew those eyes, a shade of bright, emerald green.

The young man turned his head blinking as he tried to focus on her, on her voice. His lips quivered his hands twitched at his sides, “Chairwoman?” He croaked.

The admiral hurried forward kneeling next to the young man as he began to shiver breathing growing more ragged, “Shhh lieutenant, it’s alright.” With surprisingly gentle hands, the man adjusted the boy’s pillow laying one hand on his shoulder, again making that slow rubbing motion that had been demonstrated earlier, “Shh, just relax, don’t try to talk ok.”

She stared on in confusion, and the admiral looked up, “You know him?”

She nodded her head in horrified confusion, “He…. he piloted the jet that saved my planet from an asteroid. He was….. He was one of the first humans we met. I I could be wrong.” She stared onwards knowing she wasn’t wrong.

The man looked on sad, “Yes, he wasn’t supposed to be on the frontline. The atmosphere has too much ash, so all our pilots were thrown back into ground divisions at the rear of the line for administration. When the Drev pushed back they were all that was left, and were forced into combat.”

The admiral looked up at her hand still trying to comfort the young soldier, “We were-”

“Admiral.” The boy’s voice was thick, slurred straining. She didn’t know much about human language, but the way he said the word made the admiral respond, and he leaned forward quickly cutting off and turning his focus.

In those few moments his breathing had grown more ragged.

“Yes.”

“It ... hurts.” His voice came between bursts of air forced from his lungs, a hutch as the muscles in his abdomen contracted and released, “Please…. Make it…. Stop.” Beads of sweat erupted on his forehead and his head arched back. The rest of the body followed suit writhing in slow agony, the remaining foot kicking at the ground in a show of the most visceral agony she had ever seen.

She was sick.

The admiral leaned in using one hand to pin the boy to the ground to stop the writhing, the other hand to the side of his face, “Hey Hey, look at me…. Look at me. Shhh…. There we go.” the young man let go of the contraction on his neck and looked the admiral in the eye face still twisted in pain.

Little droplets of fluid rolled from the eyes and down both sides of his face.

The two humans sat on the floor together, one gently wiping moisture from the other one’s face. His remaining foot grew still and went limp against the ground tilting outward.

Speaking so softly she could barely hear the admiral continued, “You’re gonna be alright kid. The ash is clearing up, and we got a troop transport in. You can go back home, we will get you some painkillers, get some rest, and you can go home…..just a few more minutes.” He dropped one hand back to the kid’s shoulder patting it gently. He turned to look for one of the attendings when, A shaky, clammy hand reached upwards grabbing the admiral by the arm.

He turned to look down.

“I…. I said I would do it.”

His voice was forced, it seemed like every time he was asked to speak the pain only grew worse.

“You don’t have to lieutenant. No one will blame you.” “NO!.... I said…. I would… do it.” His hand quivered and then fell back to his side eyes squeezing shut.

The man kept a hand on his shoulder, turning to look at the chairwoman who had been forced to look away unable to keep eye contact with the scene. He motioned one of the other attendees over to him, and she took his place. With soft hands she slid next to the young man resting his head in her lap posing no more than a comfort to the human as he sunk back into his pained trance.

Murmuring softly and gently stroking a gloved hand through his hair.

Outside in the air though it was ashy and grim, she could finally breathe staggering to the side feeling as if she was about to fall over.

The admiral followed her.

“Why… why did we have to see that.”

The man’s face was stern and unyielding as he held a palm out to face the building, “Every last man and woman inside that tent was willing to DIE for you, for peace, and now….

Now they have volunteered to do it again.”

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fernlom · 4 years

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The Villains of the Thrift Shop

Dig (from Chronicles of Tenaria) Death, Grim Reaper, the Grave. My interpretation of Death. Dig, also known as the Grave Digger is an alcoholic, asshole. Dressed in dirt stained denim overalls and a gray t-shirt with brown square rimmed glasses Dig is older than time and creation itself and has been drinking the entire time. a heartless ass (with a few exceptions) he carries with him his shovel, who’s head is jagged and sharp.

Romano (original creation) He’s got that “crazy guy” look, the wide tooth grin with tired eyes. Wavy pitch black hair, dressed in a fluffy open chested white blouse, black blazer and red rose pin, satin black pants, black suede shoes and two curved blades.

Nitsua (original creation) Two forms, one a human shaped entity of pure purple energy, and the other he’s got curly dark brown/red hair. Dressed in a large galaxy colored overcoat, black button up shirt with a red collar, glowing white tie, black pants with a fire pattern coming from the legs, and red shoes

Roald Dake (TMA fan character. Buried Avatar) Roald always has his shovel and has a variety of abilities. Instant transport to anywhere with dirt or soil, the ability to make rooms or enclosed spaces close in on themselves, and shape shifting thanks to his dirt make up. He’s frequently seen dressed in a short sleeved dirty gray flannel shirt, dirty black pants boots and his shovel

Chance Carter (TMA fan character, serial killer) Chance is an expert in fighting with blades. He’s frequently dressed in blue jeans, a red polo shirt, black sneakers, with brown side swept hair and brown eyes.

Anthony West(TMA fan character, Change avatar) Anthony is African, specifically of Zulu decent. He immigrated from South Africa to London to start his tech company. Anthony is highly intelligent and dangerously ambitious. At his full Change Avatar status he was given cybernetic eyes that constantly change color, his every vein is replaced with wires that can be seen through his dark skin as many rest above his skin, as well as complete ability to travel through computer networks.

Virus (from Chronicles of Tenaria) host to every possible illness, virus, and pathogen known and unknown to all living beings. Dressed in an old green flannel shirt over a olive green t-shirt with a black medic cross, old jeans and shoes. He has complete control over living beings, with the ability to infect them instantly with any disease or illness.

Drip (BATIM fan character, a Henry) African American, resembles a “rubberhose” style black and white cartoon with pie cut eyes, dressed in black overalls, white button up shirt and black bow tie, with many ink tendrils coming from his back. He controls a seemingly infinite supply of ink that he can mold into weapons and items.

The Father (BATIM fan character) "The Father" a corrupted ink version of Fern. upon his head are four masks, one for each side. The front is Bendy, the left Boris, the right Alice, the back Wandering Sin, each mask is missing it's eyes, draped over his inky body is a long trench coat and a pair of pants. He has four arms, each arm holding a item. An axe, a wrench, a syringe, and a scythe. It speaks in four voices, one at a time, or together.

The Three Guardians (from Chronicles of Tenaria) The Forgotten Firefighter: all white entity resembling a Fire Fighter WHOS gas mask is completely filled with smoke and carries a fireman’s axe. The Missing Miner, an all black entity resembling a Cole miner who’s gas mask is filled with soot, carries a pick axe. The Lost Lieutenant, an all green entity who resembles a WW1 US solider WHOS gas mask is filled with yellow gas. Carried a trench shovel.

The Diver (original creation) a mysterious entity in a old metal diving suit, the windows of the helmet always has a ghostly aqua blue glow.

DJ Sm4sh (original creation) He has the power to control sound waves and through music he can cause major destruction.

He’s dressed in a “black light glowing “ white blazer with blue grid lines, matching pants, black shirt, neon blue and neon red light up tie, and a pair of bright neon blue glow in the dark ray bans. His hair is always changing colors, no one knows if it’s magic or if he dyes it, but he’s always got a different color, sometimes it’s many. His pupils are music notes and completely black, but always hidden behind the glasses.

PB and HB (original creation) PB is bald, hispanic man, about...5 foot 10. He's got two scars on each side of his head. he wears a white tank top and blue jeans. Angry guy, he has I handed strength and resilience and is almost impossible to keep down. He has thick chains wrapped around his wrists and fists. HB is about the same size, black and white striped hair, black denim jacket, white t-shirt, black jeans. a scar on the right side of his mouth. Also angry guy with increased strength and resilience and flexibility, has glass shards protruding from his knuckles.

Golgotha (from Chronicles of Tenaria) an assassin with a skill for turning any item into a deadly weapon. Infected with a parasite that causes smoke to constantly come from his mouth and a hunger for flesh he can be spotted usually in a black hoodie, gray jeans and his messy brown hair and green eyes.

Glitch Angel (from Chronicles of Tenaria) a mysterious being resembling an angel, it’s body is made of multi colored glitching pixels. It’s full power is unknown, but it is known as a herald of doom.

Issabel Rosales (mind control. From Chronicles of Tenaria) with long silk black hair, usually in a red cocktail dress and black heals, Issabel is identified quickly by her vibrant purple eyes and her powerful mind control ability.

De Rosa Thelina (scientist, from Chronicles of Tenaria) the former lead scientist of the Group 100 Project, Dr Rosa gained Professor’s String Theory ability. Frequently scene in a white lab coat over a button up blue shirt and blue jeans, and gray tennis shoes. She wears square red rimmed glasses and likes to keep her hair up in a bun, or tied in a pony tail.

Dirty Kyle (original creation) The New God of Party. A reality bender who's powers are completely focused on all things party. Booze, snacks, music and lights. (no drugs, he's very adamant that drugs make parties bad. Except Weed. Sm4sh convinced him that's okay) Kyle is bent on making an eternal party that never ends and uses his powers to try and make it real. He's got short spikey brown hair, dull gray eyes that he occasionally hides behind aviator sunglasses. He wears a mint green polo shirt that stays unbuttoned and its collar popped with a blue and gold letterman jacket with a bottle of beer as it's emblem and tight black skinny jeans.

The Famished (original creation/fear mythos) an unfortunate victim turned monster. A girl of unknown age with long brown hair that goes to the middle of her back and covers her eyes. She has sharp shark like teeth, thick and strong claws, and ferocious strength and speed. Famished was a normal girl who woke up one day with a strange hunger that just wouldn't go away no matter how much she ate, until it drove her insane and she ate the ones she loved, said horrific action changed her into the monster she now is. (IMPORANT NOTE: she is not a representation or analogy for anorexia or any other eating disorder. I'd never make such a character and I dont want anyone to think i take such issues lightly)

Wanna hear about them? Ask.

#thrift shop of infinite wonders #ferns egos

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suncatchr · 3 years

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some updated designs!! lots to say about these!!

Emilia and Mateo’s “Imaginary” Designs

I have a plot update for them ;w; I thought, since their whole motif is arts and performance, that it would be cute to write in a playground roleplay element to their story! Besically as kids, they make up a fantasy world that they play in together whenever they get a free second! In off-time, Mateo writes stories and makes art of their characters, and Emilia starts learning to play music so that she can compose theme songs for them. Emilia’s character is a fire witch who’s able to comfortably use her powers bc they live in a more magical world. Mateo’s character is a healer who follows Emilia on her quests to save the places she defends. I thought it would be a nice place to kick off their obsessions with creativity, and also that it would be kinda fun to do a plot within a plot and kinda try to make up a story that two kids would.

These outfts are the designs they thought up in their game. Mateo later drew up the designs, this being most obvious from the rose on Emilia’s belt. Her gloves keep her magic in when she doesn’t need it, and the cloak is fireproof. Mateo’s outfit is based on a plague doctor’s, but for ease, the mask is just a piece of thick fabric that can be lifted up over his nose when he needs it. The rest of his body is covered to prevent him from contracting infections from fluids.

Holly and Masei

Nothing too new about these designs, their original designs were just way too simplistic bc i didn’t have much of an idea. Holly is a warrior, so his outfit is very lacking in layers and fabric. On the other hand, Masei is a prince, so his clothes are dumb layered and the little translucent piece is supposed to drive home just how extravagant he is.

Khauai, Haven, and Hakeem

I wanted their outfits to be more like their animal motifs! Cevon didn’t get a redesign because his current outfit is civilian clothes which. suits the fact that he gets his power taken away. Khauai is an owl, so his cloak is meant to reflect his wings and the puffy pants + slim boots mimic the legs of an owl. Haven is a selkie, so I gave him his seal coat to wear over his human form. I left the sweater, though, since it kinda melds both worlds for him as opposed to him only wearing his seal coat and Yearning for the Sea. Hakeem’s outfit is supposed to be lionlike, so I gave him the furry collar to be the mane and the furry boots to be his paws. It’s also a little more form-fitting bc he steals Cevon’s powers and as such becomes an incubus. I think he’d embrace that fully.

The Major Arcana

These characters have 3 things each that are part of their designs: an album, a Tarot card, and their name. I decided that the Tarot card would be more involved witht heir demeanour and how they present themselves, so the outfits are based on their album and their name.

Crow, obviously, is named for a crow. His clothing is layered to represent the feathers of a bird’s wing, and his cloak is ruffled to be shaped like the wings themselves. His album is After Hours. His heavy layers also represent him often blocking people out because he feels like he’ll just let them all down (a la Save Your Tears). At the same time, his outer cloak is open, because what he really wants is to be better, but it’s hard to make that go to the inner layers of himself (a la Faith). His clothes are all black.

Harley’s name means “meadow of hares.” His spikey hair is meant to represent windswept grass, while his inner vest is meant to be a little white bunny tumby and his boots are white at the toes to represent paws. His album is Beauty Behind the Madness. BBTM is a little sluttier than AH, so I had to kinda work around that, since Major Arcana generally wear old-fashioned clothing and lots of layers. Underneath his jacket, Harley’s arms are bare and his jeans are high-waisted so that when he’s free to do so, he can shift into hotboy mode. BBTM’s narration is also more smug and more detached, so I felt like that it made sense to give Harley a more modern outfit than everyone else, because he couldn’t care less about the customs of Major Arcana dress or how anyone feels about it. His clothes are brown and white.

Nakoa’s name means “warrior.” I gave him the harnesses on his back and leg to look like he’d be carrying weapons around, even though he never would. His album is Transmissions. The ablum gives off a very aching, yearning vibe, with the narrator sounding alone throughout the whole thing. His mission seems to be to find and protect someone else, while sticking staunchly to one’s ideals and values throughout the quest. Nakoa dresses like Major Arcana should, with his clothes being the most traditional of anyone’s. The lock necklace represents his loyalty to the Major Arcana (as in, he’s locked in) and the heart necklace (while in canon it represents his card: The Lovers), represents the person that the album’s narrator is talking about. I wanted to make him look very “tied up” in his clothes, so everything runs across him. This represents the loneliness at the album’s core; Nakoa is tied up in himself and effectively has no one but the cause to be loyal to. His clothes are purple and blue.

Sunday’s outfit is supposed to contrast Nakoa’s heavily. They don’t wear all of the ties and layers he does. Their design is meant to be open and welcoming, because their album is Dreamland. The narrator of Dreamland describes a troubled past in an expressive and upbeat way, and I thought I’d reflect that in the fact that Sunday is the eldest and effectively the most responsible for the whole group, yet they remain open and their layers stripped despite all that. Their name obviously reflects the sun, so the main colours of their outfit along w the sun at their collar represent the sunrise. Their outfit is iridescent (another ref to Dreamland’s aes), with bases of pale pink and yellow.

Arwen’s name means “royal maiden.” Her outfit is based on the most practical layer of mediaeval royal clothing, with her hood able to pull up to look like a victorian maiden’s bonnet. Her album is Hozier, but I’m going to be hinest and say most of her outfit was designed before this, so I couldn’t find a place to mix in the album..? So the colours of her clothing are the album cover’s colours: orange, blue, and brown.

Elio means sun. I have enough characters designed after the sun, so I went entirely album-based with him. His album is DIVISIONS, a rebellious, anticapitalist love letter to no one. The album is about adventure, love, and the future, so I wanted to give Elio a v futuristic and punky outfit. His outfit is my favourite out of all of them, but I don’t actually have much to say about it? I think it looks exactly how I envisioned, like Elio’s a punk from the future. His clothes are black, white, and silver.

Dawn’s name meaning is obvious, and again w the sun. I went all-album with him too. His album is Meteora, an album that’s essentially about hating yourself, your past, and everyone around you. I wanted to go more emo with Dawn’s design bc of that, but emo style actually doesn’t... appeal to me, plus it’s not very Major Arcana. I gave him some gay little boots to be his choice piece of emo clothing, and then emo’d up a regular outfit instead. His clothes are layered, again representing him building up walls. He has lots of elements that are tied around him, this time to look like he’s sealed himself in, hence them all being horizontal. He burned the edges of his cloak himself and also sliced into his pants so that he looked imperfect and everyone around him would know that he’s imperfect. His clothes are, in contrast, pink, yellow, and blue.

Dovey’s name obviously means dove. Her cloak, like Crow’s is ruffled at the edge to represent bird wings. Doves are much fluffier than crows, though, so in her outfit, feathers are represented by the ruffles in her dress. Now, uh, her album is Wasteland, Baby! and the outfit very much misses the vibe. Dovey is another character whose outfit I had planned before hand, and it wasn’t desidned with music in mind. The one song I did think of while designing her was As It Was, which reminds me of Red Riding Hood bc of the way it opens?? I feel like even though I can’t pinpoint any one vibe that matches her look, I can see her as the narrator slash star of all the songs in this outfit. So IDK, it vibes w me, fjkdshdsfd. Her outfit is grey and brown, like a mourning dove.

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milliethekitty27-writing · 3 years

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Carry On (A SPN fix it fic)

When Dean’s alarm went off, he had to take a minute to figure out where he was and if everything was a dream. The past several days (weeks? years? honestly, all of the above) had been a completely exhausting blur. Jack and Castiel had been gone for what felt like years, but Sam had left a note on the table saying he was out for a jog and there was a familiar weight at the end of the bed. Miracle looked up and whined.

“Right.” Dean rubbed his face. He got up, yawning, and took a long hot shower that soothed his aching muscles. He pretended he didn’t see Cas behind his eyes. God he missed him, terribly, but he was still so angry. How could he have just not said anything? So many people had died, Rowena was gone, and now Dean was just… here. Doing nothing.

Sam slammed his hand on the door and Dean jumped out of his skin.

“I made breakfast but I want to shower!” he called.

Dean met him downstairs. They ate, Dean did dishes while Sam showered, and then he started messing around on his computer.

A story popped up and he let out a long sigh.

“Sam-” he cleared his throat and Sam looked up from his book, his hair still damp. “-we’ve got a case.”

They headed out, the Impala humming under his hands like always. They played whatever music he was in the mood for and both of them were quiet. They wondered about Cas, and Jack, and everyone else, but the day was clear and beautiful.

Something must have aligned because when Dean got out of the car, there was a big sign reading All You Can Eat Pie over a field thrumming with people.

“Are you crying?” Sam was clearly trying not to laugh.

“Nope.” There were tears streaming down his face but he wiped them off. “Just, uh… smelled some… onions.” Sam laughed behind him, but Dean ignored him in favor of exploring the fair.

There were so many pies everywhere. Cherry, pumpkin, sweet potato, apple, blueberry, gooseberry, peach, pecan, it was actual heaven. Dean didn’t care what Jack was doing up there, this was better than anything else he could do.

Dean turned to tell Cas, but his heart sank. There was no idiot in a trench coat to drag around with him. There was just his brother on his bench, nose buried in his phone. He looked tired.

Dean bought six slices of pie, ones that the cute blond woman told him were best. She kept glancing at Sam and Dean delighted in the fact that he sauntered up and dropped them onto the picnic table. Sam jumped.

“I am going to eat pie until I die.” he said. “If you want to join me, get your own.” Sam laughed. He kept eyeing the pumpkin, though, so Dean relented and slide it over to him.

Sam smushed it into his face.

Sam. Smushed a pie. Into his face. A perfectly good piece of pie. This was pie abuse.

Sam was laughing though, and he looked better. Dean felt better too.

“You’re getting me another one.” He pointed at the blond woman at the counter. “From her.” Sam rolled his eyes. “Shut up it’s delicious. Where else am I going to be able to eat pie all day? You’re the jerk who wasted that slice anyway.”

Sam did. He chatted with the woman, and he came back with a slice of pumpkin and a slice of blueberry for himself. The woman’s named was Sherry and she was Sam’s age. She worked in a bakery with her mom, and she’d written her number on the plate of his pie.

The next town over was their proper destination, though. A family had been attacked in part of a string of similar attacks - the father had been drained of blood, the mother had had her tongue cut out, and the pair of sons had been abducted. The picture, from the mother, was one of men wearing masks.

They searched through their records, finding a little, but eventually Sam found the entry.

“Vampires. Vampire mimics? Vampires.” Eventually, they agreed vampires and geared up - plenty of fine, beheading weapons, because that’s was the routine. Miracle jumped into the car and off they went.

The nest was in an old cabin in the woods. It was an absolutely massive place, covered in ivy, and it painted a haunting picture against the twisted wood.

“Can they not be so cliché?” Dean rolled his eyes, arming himself. Miracle was kept in the car, with the windows cracked wide enough for him to jump out. “You stay, Miracle.” The dog grumbled a little, then settled on the car. “No tearing up the seats either.” Another grumble and Sam snorted.

They crept in but found the house practically devoid of life, even more so then usual.

It reeked of blood too.

“I wish we’d come when it was lighter out, or hadn’t stopped for lunch.” Dean grumbled. Sam shushed him, but the moonlight peeking through the cracks of the house.

They found the first body a little ways away. It was clearly a man, and when they checked the teeth it was a vampire.

It had almost entirely been beheaded by something very big. They cut the head off for good measure, but their unease was growing with every second.

They heard it only a second before they saw it.

A wendigo was standing over the body of a vampire. There were a pair of terrified children trembling near a rotting couch. The thing was making the most awful noises and the older brother was hiding the younger one’s face in his stomach. Sam and Dean looked at each other.

They needed better weapons.

“In the car.” Dean said it very very quietly. “Flare gun. Only one, though. Get it.”

Sam creeped out and Dean stayed, wishing he had a lot of other things right now. Why a wendigo, why now? Sure, it saved them the trouble of the vampire nest, but now they had a wendigo, at least two kids, and one fire weapon.

Bobby would’ve yelled at them for an hour if he’d found out they’d been so unprepared, but at the same time it was pretty clear it was a vampire nest.

Dean didn’t really remember the fight, honestly. He didn’t know what triggered the wendigo but it saw him, or smelled him, and he was using the machete he had to keep it away from his face. The thing was too damn fast.

Sam shot the flare and he got it in the shoulder. It burst into flames but Dean was pinned under it.

They both realized with horror that the old wood of the cabin was catching on fire too.

“Go!” Dean shouted at his brother.

Sam got the kids out quickly enough, but he started towards Dean. The smoke was growing thick and Dean couldn’t breathe. The wendigo was dying but it had landed a few bites, and now there was a fire and Dean couldn’t get out.

“I said go, Sam!” Sam stared at him, then was forced to flee as the fire choked Dean to death.

I wonder if I’ll see Castiel.

Dean blinked and found himself next to a cabin, staring at a lake. He rubbed his chest, coughing a little.

“Fuckin wendigoes.” he muttered.

“Nasty sons of bitches, aren’t they.” Dean turned very sharply and found Bobby sitting in a chair. They looked at each other.

“Weren’t you in heaven’s lock up? Last I heard, anyway. This has to be some memory.”

“Jack made some changes.” Bobby chuckled. “He and Cas have been pretty busy.” Dean’s heart panged. They chatted, about heaven and about now what. They shared one of the shittiest bears Dean had had in a long time, but talking with Bobby made everything a little bit better.

“Thanks.” Dean said rather suddenly. Bobby grunted. “For… everything.” He waved the mostly empty bottle at the lake. “You know.”

“Don’t be an idjit.” Bobby said. “I said you were my boys. I meant it.” Dean’s heart warmed and they were quiet for a bit. “What are you gonna do now?”

“Get a better beer.” Bobby laughed and Dean smiled despite himself. “Sam… Sam’ll be ok, won’t he?”

“Course he will be. Don’t make me tell you not to be an idjit again.” Dean blinked, his throat tightening a little bit, then he nodded.

“Right. Course.” he sighed, then got up. He looked at the car Bobby had pointed out. “Maybe I’ll go look for Castiel. You said he’s around, right?”

“Should be.” Bobby lifted his bottle a little. “Come visit.”

“Don’t be an idjit.” Dean grinned at him and Bobby chuckled again.

His Baby hummed to life beneath his hands. Dean had no idea how he’d find Castiel, but he had to try. There was a lot they had to talk about, and primarily the first one was yelling at him for telling him how he felt when he was about to be grabbed by an oily black octopus, and then they needed to talk about what next.

Dean wasn’t sure how long he drove for, but he pulled up to a barn.

He got out of the car and missed his brother, and his dog, but he tucked his hands into his pockets and sauntered in.

“...Castiel?” He called finally. There was a noise, a familiar rustle of wings, and Dean turned.

Castiel was standing there, wearing his stupid trench coat and looking at Dean like he’d looked a thousand times but Dean had never understood. His throat twisted up again.

“Hello, Dean.” Castiel’s voice was quiet, but very tender.

“I’m still upset with you.” Dean said. “Very. But… I missed you.” He shuffled his feet a little, then nodded to the car outside. “Want to go for a drive? Talk about some stuff? Maybe find a place with decent beer?” After a moment, Castiel’s lips curved into a smile and he nodded.

Sam died at eighty-three years old, and he woke up to find Bobby sitting on the porch. Bobby directed him down a path and he saw people he’d thought he’d never see again - his mom was there, Jo, Charlie, Garth, lots of people he hadn’t seen in ages.

He got to the end and he found his brother leaning against the Impala, looking at a map.

“...Dean?” Dean looked up and smiled at him so wide that his face looked like it would burst. Sam went to him and felt like he was five, but Dean met him halfway and held him tight.

“I can’t believe you named your kid after me.” Sam went red.

“It suited him, he’s a good kid. Besides, it was Sherry’s idea.”

“I claim full credit for getting you two together. You married the pie girl of my dreams.”

“She did more than just pie.” Dean laughed. They got in the car and drove, the Impala purring along the road and the music blasting, and they pulled up to a rather simple looking house. Sam got out a little slowly but Dean got up without a concern. Miracle shot out the door when it opened, barking like a lunatic like he often had. He pranced around Dean, then he saw Sam and Sam got the same treatment as they tried to get inside.

Castiel was standing at the counter, staring at the coffee pot rather absently. Dean kissed his cheek and the angel jumped.

“Oh. Hello, Sam.”

“...uh… hey.” Sam pointed at Castiel, then at Dean, then back as Castiel again. “Are you two, uh…”

“We are.” Dean puffed up a little. “We talked it out.”

“Cool. Good. That’s great.”

“There’s pie in the fridge.” Castiel offered after a moment. “If you’d like. I can leave.”

“No.” Sam shook his head. “You stay. It’s been a while. We can chat. I have to wait for Sherry no matter what. She’s looking forwards to meeting you.”

“You’ll think the pie’s boring then.” Dean sighed dramatically. “I still dream about her apple pie.” Castiel looked at him affectionately and Sam instantly regretted agreeing to stay. This was going to be a long visit, but he didn’t mind too much. After all, they had all the time in the world.

----

Thank you for reading!

Find this fic on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27675821

It’s worth noting that I have seen five (5) episodes of Supernatural (Gabriel episodes, plus Garth with a sock puppet) Is that stopping me from being angry about the finale, thinking I can do better, and writing a fix-it fic? Absolutely not.

I had an idea for how I wanted this to go and what I wanted. I read the synopsis of the last three episodes or so. My goals; 1. Dean gets a fighting death 2. Wendigos were cool opponents and I wanted to see more of them. 3. Find Castiel 4. Give Sam’s wife a name and something to her. 5. You know the montage in Hamilton where Eliza sees everyone before finding her wife again? Yeah that’s Sam’s death gift.

#writing #fanfiction #supernatural #supernatural fix it #supernatural carry on #destiel #dean x castiel #like i said i've only seen a few episodes #but i'll be damned if i can't write a better ending to the show #that doesn't bury the gays

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durotoswrites · 3 years

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🌹🌹🌹🌹 (this is me poking your brain with a stick and muttering "c'mon, move" interpret the multiple roses as you wish!)

Alright, 4 WIPs! (Some have a rather thick coat of dust on them, haha)

1. Doug’s Boys (A Harvest Moon greaser AU where the boys at Doug’s Inn are in a turf war with a Yankee Girls gang in Forget-Me-Not Valley) In this excerpt, Cliff was spotted doing some recon in enemy territory and it didn’t end well...

“S-Seigi…” His blurry eyes traveled across the weapon.

Nami set down the camera she was preparing to load with film. She was surprised the boy was still conscious; she looked around them cautiously before squatting down beside him. “What are you going on about?” Her voice was serious, but he caught a hint of curiosity in it despite the ringing in his ears.

“Th-The kanji on your bat… seigi… m-means ‘justice’…” He slurred as he coughed and retched on that last word. Cliff looked up at her with dilated pupils; the signs of his concussion strongly evident. “I-I take it you knew that…”

She gave a slight nod. “Wrote it myself.” He was sure there was a smirk under that surgical mask as she stared at her pride and joy. The young woman pointed at the first character. “Sei. It means ‘right’. Gi. ‘Morality’.” She gestured toward the second half of the calligraphy.

He felt a wave of adrenaline rush through him again; he was so angry he could hardly stand it, but his body was too sore to move. “A-And do you see any of that in wh-what you do?!” He choked on vomit and blood.

So now he was willing to talk… She leaned into him so closely that they nearly touched. Nami kept her voice low. “Sometimes the right thing isn’t always the easiest… Look, I don’t hate you, so don’t give me a reason to.”

2. In This Corner of the Farm (A crossover between Harvest Moon and the movie/manga “In This Corner of the World” where Claire agrees to an arranged marriage and learns to live with her new family (Akiyama Village from TSN where Cliff’s family is still alive) away from a world she grew up in. My friend challenged me to combine the two, and it’s kinda been my secret little project only a couple of people have seen - written specially for a close friend. It’s pretty... explicit, so I’m not sure if there’s much interest from readers. Anyway, here’s a blurb from early on:

For as long as she could remember, Trent had helped clean her bumps and scrapes with a tender, steady hand that seemed to have experience well beyond his fifteen years. As a girl who lived on a farm and played outdoors every day, Claire was no stranger to minor injuries, but Trent always faithfully came to her side.

“It’s all I know. I’m going to be away at school all the time and never get to see anyone anymore.” There was a hopelessness to his voice that Claire wasn’t sure how to remedy.

“They’re just trying to help you have a good future,” she insisted with a sad smile. “I bet someday you’ll be saving peoples’ lives and you’ll be happy doing what you do.”

There was something so sincere about those clear blue eyes that the uptight boy couldn’t help but relax a bit. “Well, when you say it, I almost feel like I could believe you.”

Claire’s face lit up; Trent rarely gave a genuine grin, and when he did, it felt like she was the only one in the world he smiled for. She took his hand and twirled herself, her blonde hair fanning out as she drew out a soft chuckle from him.

“You’ll get to meet and help so many people! Just focus on that!” She spun once more and when he shyly let go of her hand, she continued to dance in the grass. The gentle breeze played with her loose hair like a set of celebratory streamers.

“Maybe it won’t be so bad…” He watched, entranced, as the girl moved to music he couldn’t hear, her natural talent a delight to behold. Claire’s face glowed as her eyes met his, and the color rising in her cheeks wasn’t solely from her movement.

3. The file is simply titled “MM”. It’s a Legend of Zelda: Majora’s Mask I was working on several years ago. After Link releases the spirit from the Deku Mask, he finds himself compelled to wear it, eager to understand this timid voice that keeps calling out to him in his mind when he dons it. He becomes obsessed with the mask, slowly forgetting which memories belong to him.

“Go ahead, try it on. You’re a brave kid, aren’t you?”

He gave an emphatic nod. That was the way it always was with the boy; he was always eager to let others define who he was. The princess had once referred to him as a ray of light, a courageous symbol of hope for her kingdom. That was his favorite description of anyone gave of him, and he did everything he could to live up to those expectations.

He held the mask up to his face and felt his head spin as a searing pain traveled across his body. He could hear the crackling of wood as the mask fused to his flesh and it felt as if his skin was being torn apart. He let out a muffled cry of pain as he doubled over and he realized at once that his body had become more rigid again.

4. The draft is titled “stale chocolate”. A small bit of original fiction I wrote a couple years back, and in a way, it almost feels complete as is. I'm on the fence about whether or not I want to play around with it some more.

While Renee couldn’t remember the last time she had been there, she definitely recalled the way she had left – doors slamming, gritted teeth, acid tears burning the corners of her eyes, and the awful flavor of stale chocolate lingering on her tongue.

Indeed, it had been an unpleasant experience. She had promised herself she would never go back there again.

It didn’t do well to dwell on the past, she reminded herself as she shifted in her seat on the bus. Knees closed, feet pressed together, posture erect, purse in her lap – she hated the overly formal stiff posture she had adopted in public since then. Perhaps it was because she wanted to prove to herself that she still knew how to conduct herself.

Renee always thought of herself as a sensible, practical sort. She didn’t read too much into daydreams, she always carried around something to write with, and she bought milk with the latest expiration date she could find on the shelf.

Perhaps practical and mature were two different categories altogether, she mused.

After all, an immature person could go off on a humiliating tirade and still buy fresh milk.

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spacesnail3000 · 5 years

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Brooklyn’s Sweetheart Chapter 11: How Naive

#steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers fic #dark!steve rogers #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fic #dark!bucky barnes #stucky #stucky x reader #mcu #marvel #fanfiction #brooklyn’s sweetheart

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txladyj-blog · 4 years

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This Time Around - Chapter 15

A Daryl Dixon x OFC collaboration written by @xmistressmistrustx by request of @txladyj-blog

Rating: Explicit

Relationship: Daryl Dixon/Original Female Character

Tags: Friendship, Friends to Lovers, Awkwardness, Awkward Flirting, Awkward Crush, Fluff and Humor, Angst and Humor, Mild Smut, Strong Language, Eventual Sex, Eventual Romance, Slow Burn, Canon Divergence, Some Canon Scenes and Dialogue

Chapters 23/?

With the help of Deanna and Michonne, Rick devised a guard and runs roster that seemed to run like a well-oiled machine on a weekly rotating basis. Those with similar skills were paired up with each other and assigned specific duties and tasks outside the walls. Having hunting, tracking and Walker fighting skills, Jess found herself paired up with Daryl at least once a week when he wasn’t out recruiting. It was a result that had left her with mixed feelings. When she was around him, she would cycle between pure irritation and an icy attitude and playful mocking while trying to hide the fact that underneath it all and no matter how difficult she could sometimes present as, she did enjoy spending time with him. Sometimes, it was like it used to be back at the quarry when they joked and Daryl tried and failed to hide his small smiles. Those moments were changing things and Jess’s guard was very gradually lowering but for the most part, she was confusing and standoffish.

Daryl never gave up his efforts to chip away at Jess’s defiance. He could see it glimmering through when she threw shade at him and giggled when he screwed something up. He let her simmer at him and tolerated her moods because she was there, the old Jess, shoved into the dark and repressed but she was most certainly still present and he wanted nothing more than to see her again.

Glenn’s idea of gathering more military grade supplies and armour to match Jess's meant Rick tasked Daryl and Jess with visiting an abandoned military outpost used as a safe zone at the start of the turn. Upon scouting the area himself, he reported back that the ground was scattered with dead soldiers wearing all manner of useful clothing and the inside of the fences may well contain medication or weapons if it hadn’t already been picked clean. Both Jess and Daryl agreed without question and Deanna threw Jess the keys to a pickup truck.

“I’m driving” Jess announced as she flung open the truck’s door in the wispy rain. Her hood was up and her mask obscured her face. Daryl carried his crossbow by the stirrup and rolled his eyes in plain view of Jess, who was sitting in the driver’s seat.

“Don’t roll your eyes at me. We both know you can’t drive stick.” She told him.

“I'm a redneck, course I can drive stick” He mumbled, climbing up into the passenger side and depositing his crossbow on the back seat.

“You almost burned the gearbox out and gave me whiplash the last time. Stick to what you’re good at. Y’know, hunting, smoking and looking angry as shit all the time.” She turned the key and brought the engine to life, switching up the windscreen wipers to a low pace. Dust was smeared across the glass before it was finally washed away by the rain.

“Fine one to talk.” He rasped, slouching down in his seat and thudding his boots up on the dash.

“Excuse me?” She questioned.

“You. Always lookin’ at me like ya gonna cloud up n’ rain on me.” He braced himself for what would undoubtedly be a barrage of fury at his observation of her mostly angry demeanor. But he was waiting for something that never came and eventually, he glanced to his side to see her staring at him over the edge of her mask.

“I’m sorry” She whispered seriously.

Stunned, Daryl sat up slightly and tried not to appear so baffled. He scanned the area outside the truck, seeing people milling past, heading out to their daily jobs. He was glad no one could see them due to the partially fogged up windows.

“Uh...It’s OK.” He informed her. And it was. He mostly understood her reasons for wanting to keep a safe distance emotionally and the last thing he would ever want to do is hurt her again. But he couldn’t say he was altogether comfortable with it. “C’mon, let’s go.”

= = = = =

The military camp was a temporary one, only designed to be erected in case of severe emergencies. The fences were broken down and the tents inside had been raised, leaving only empty bullet casings and blood decorating the asphalt. But Rick had been right, the sheer number of dead soldiers, even those reanimated as Walkers would provide them with ample armor if they were ever in a position of needing to defend themselves and the town against an onslaught of some kind.

Daryl slinked through a gap in the fence and scurried, with his body low from the back of one tent to another until he reached what appeared to be a tank. The open area in the middle of the camp was crawling with Walkers, at least a dozen, probably more, He didn’t have time to count as he scaled the side of the armored vehicle and signaled with one hand for Jess to follow. The rain had only grown stronger the further away from Alexandria they travelled and the temperature was dropping rapidly as the day crept on. He rarely felt the cold but wished he’d brought his leather jacket with him this time, his bare arms somewhat impractical for a cold, wet supply run.

Jess wasn’t complaining, she followed the trail of the arms she so admired, winding around the bodies on the ground, the canvas structures and the bloody patches when she finally reached the tank. Daryl reached down to her, helping her climb up the metal and they both took up positions beside one another and surveyed the amount of work they had to put in.

“Gonna have to get rid of most of these Walkers.” Daryl suggested. “See that, over there?” He raised an arm, pointing at a tent that was full of black storage cases. “We can’t leave without checkin’ that out.”

“Yeah, it has potential. My dad and brother used to use those cases.” She mused, remembering the many different houses she’d lived in as an army brat, all the camo, the gear, the medals, running around with a bunch of boys playing ball as a child. Those were the days.

Daryl readied his crossbow and shifted, getting comfortable.

“Wait” Jess said. He peered sideways at her.

“You take the left; I’ll take the right. First one to clear their section, wins.” She grinned as she slipped her bow over her head and nocked an arrow.

“Wins what?” He asked.

“I haven’t thought that far ahead yet. Glory, I guess.”

“I like glory.” He stated.

“You do?”

“Yeah”

“That’s a shame ‘cause you’re gonna lose!” She cried, firing off an arrow and dropping the nearest Walker on her side.

Daryl rapidly began to take down the corpses, one by one with meticulous precision and Jess had to admit she was still impressed by his accuracy with a crossbow. Even his reload took mere seconds which was one thing she thought may give her the advantage. Her arm began to ache after she dropped the tenth Walker on her side and she paused to count how many Daryl had left to take down. There were a lot more than she’d initially thought, especially when she counted twelve eliminated Walkers on her opponents’ side with three more being taken down. She turned back to her targets, four left.

He’s got this.

In the blink of an eye, Daryl’s side was empty and Jess was still aiming and shooting, now with only two Walkers left. Daryl floored one while she successfully dropped the other and slowly turned her head to face him, her lip curled in disgust.

“I hope you choke on your glory.” She growled.

“Tastes real sweet. You should try it some day.” He remarked in response with a smug smile.

Jess slid down the tanks front and jumped down onto the ground, closely followed by Daryl. They stepped over the bodies and shoved some aside from the entrance of the tent. Jess flipped open one of the black boxes and Daryl saw her face light up.

“Looks like we’re both getting some glory.” She grinned as she held up a heavy combat vest.

The rest of the boxes were brimming with combat clothing and their find had put them both in a decent mood, Jess’s being more evident than Daryl’s, who was much more stoic in general anyway. But he enjoyed her gentle mockery of him as they loaded up the back of the truck with boxes and tore any armor from the dead people that littered the camp. Daryl was pleased to have Jess’s smart comments and continuous chatter as a backdrop to such a monstrous and stomach-churning task.

= = = = =

When they had gathered everything that they could fit onto the flatbed, they covered it with a tarp and Jess embarked on the long drive back to Alexandria. After only a few minutes on the road, Daryl suggested they pull over and check out the woodlands for animals to hunt. When Jess disagreed, he managed to talk her into it by promising only an hour and if they didn’t have any decent tracks to follow, they could return to the truck.

She pulled into a small clearing in the trees and killed the engine before following Daryl into the darkening woods. Neither of them spoke as they trundled along as quietly as possible. Walkers were nowhere to be seen and Jess thought that to be a saving grace. When Daryl stopped to inspect some tracks in the mud, they were soon setting off in pursuit of what he thought could be a sizeable hog.

A fast-moving stream seemed to appear from nowhere up ahead and Daryl held up a hand, halting her behind him. She had to admit to herself that her heart wasn’t in it and she just wanted to return to her fairground home and collapse into bed, but the thought of hog for dinner wasn’t an altogether bad one. He moved forwards until they were both stood at the edge of the stream. The water was murky, mud kicked up from the bottom as though something had recently ran through it. The rain meant the streams banks were coated in thick, clay-like mud.

“Must have gone through the stream. Tracks have gone.” Daryl mused.

“Bye bye, Bacon.” Jess sighed. “C’mon, lets go back.”

The sound of engines raging towards them caused Jess to still and her mouth to drop open.

How have vehicles got this far into the woods?!

She didn’t have time to think before Daryl’s arms locked around her waist and she was thrown down into the water and out of the view of the five motorcycles that appeared from the thick dullness of the woods on the other side of the water. Jess gawped up at Daryl from where she sat in the water, panic evident on her face. He was peering over the top of the bank, over the grass and witnessing a group of men heading straight for them. All heavily armed.

He dove at her, ripping her bow from her body and throwing it under the water with his crossbow before dragging her down and under a nearby tree roots. The bank underneath stepped up slightly into a ledge that was wide enough to fit the width of her body. She didn’t struggle, in fact, she just let him manhandle her into the tiny space and stared at him in shock when he scooped up handfuls of mud and smeared it all over her arms, legs and torso. Then, he set to work on himself, covering as much skin as he could and ensuring that they were both the same color as the muddy stream. He ducked under the roots and lowered himself on top of her just as the men neared and began to settle down, talking and jeering at one another.

Daryl’s body was pinning her to the sodden ground. Water dripped from his hair onto her face but she kept completely still, save for her breathing which was now jagged and shaky. He looked at her face, noticing it was completely clean in contrast to the rest of her and may as well have had a flashlight beam shining on it. He slowly moved a hand up from the mud and gently wiped the brown gloop over her cheeks and forehead in a strange display of what would otherwise be mistaken for affection. She could only stare up at him.

“Shh.” He hushed.

= = = = = =

It felt like hours. It may have been hours because night had fallen and the cold was biting at her bones. Daryl was fighting to hold himself over Jess without crushing her and his arms were trembling with the tension. They could hear the men building a fire and throwing insults at one another. Occasionally they would laugh about someone they’d killed which sent a shiver through Jess’s spine that wasn’t caused by the cold. Her only view was the stream trickling past beside her and Daryl's eyes above her and the more she looked at him the more she thought that even in this situation, at risk of being killed and covered in shit and mud, he was still gorgeous to her. Having him pushed against her had created undeniable sexual tension and neither of them knew what to do about it.

“You alright?” He asked in a barely-there whisper. A short nod was what followed and he could see she was about to say something from her eyes darting around, from his face to the water beside them.

“This is kind of…awkward.”

She felt his body jolt momentarily from the short huff that escaped him. His arms were locking hers to her sides to keep her level on the tiny ledge and when his hair dropped into her face again, he flicked his head slightly to dislodge the sodden strands, failing in his efforts and giving up. He hadn’t been this physically close to a woman in years, his whole body pressed against her and his face inches from hers. He could feel the curves of her chest and waist and her hips were level with his. When his outside leg slipped from the muddy ledge, she bent her knee at his thigh to provide him with some extra stability. It wasn’t awkward to him at first, merely a matter of survival and needs must, but now she’d mentioned it and she was cocooned under him and his mind was kicked into overdrive.

Uuuggh, Damn friction. Think of somethin’ else.

“Ya just had to mention that, didn’t ya?” He complained in a quiet growl

“Sorry.” She croaked.

The crackling of a fire could be heard up on the grass and the smell of smoke wafted down the stream’s banks and tickled Jess’s nostrils along with the delightful smell of cooking meat. Her stomach growled and vibrated and Daryl furrowed his brow at her as if he’d felt her stomach rumble and that she shouldn’t be thinking about food at a time like that.

One of them men was on his feet and wandering around, the crunching of the leaves under his boots getting louder and quieter and then louder again and it told them he was circling the group, possibly setting up tents or sorting supplies. Their conversation became more concerning as time went on and soon, they were discussing how many more women they needed to start re-populating the earth.

“He said not to come back unless we had one. We can’t go back empty handed.” One man said.

“Our supplies are runnin’ low. Can’t stay out here much longer neither” another offered.

“Y’all heard the man! What he wants, he gets or we all suffer. He’s been in a bad mood since we swept that entire city and found a whole bunch of nothin’. So, we keep lookin’.” A louder and more authoritative man explained.

Jess automatically thought about the large group that encroached on the city while she was living in her apartment. Their Mad Max style vehicles and the woman in the cage, it all told her that the men that were just yards away from her could well be from the same group.

Daryl toyed with the idea of trying to slide his arms back up to Jess’s face and clamping his hands over her ears so she didn’t have to hear their savage and disgusting accounts of what they would do if they did have such a prize in their possession. He noticed her body trembling even more.

“Ya shakin’.” He whispered.

“F-freezing.” She mouthed.

He moved further over her, covering her entire body with his and it occurred to her that this was the closest she was ever likely to be with him. She wanted to wrap her arms around his waist and push a hand into his dirty, wet hair and kiss him. She could see it in her imagination, what a wonderful sight it was, minus the mud. But it wasn’t the time and he wouldn’t want her to anyway. She decided to keep the image on reserve, a girl could dream.

“Cross ya arms in front of ya.” He told her, lifting his chest slightly to allow her room before settling his arms flush with her sides. It was far from comfortable for him in more ways than one and Jess could tell he would end up with a terrible neck ache if he stayed as he was.

“You can rest your head on my shoulder.” She offered. He hesitated, his blue eyes peering down into hers with apprehension. “You won’t be able to move for days if you stay like that.” She didn’t know if he’d heard her, he was just staring down at her and the darkness meant his face was now partially obscured, the light of the moon reflecting off the water was the only source of illumination. She didn’t want to repeat herself for fear of being heard by the depraved group of men in the clearing and so, she stayed quiet.

“K” he finally agreed. He gently turned his head to the side and lowered it onto her shoulder.

He did hear me. Oh my god. This feels so weird. And nice. He must be super uncomfortable.

“Relax, I can take your weight.” She informed him. His body became heavier but it was tolerable, warmer but more awkward as time rolled on. The men were eating and still swapping stories of people they’d killed. Jess held her breath every time it sounded like one of them was getting up and closing in on their hiding spot. Her arms were numb and her skin was wrinkled and she was almost certain Daryl could feel every churn of her stomach and the hammering of her heart.

Daryl didn’t envision being on top of anyone like this. It was a rare occurrence for him to think of anyone in a sexual manner, but with her underneath him it was difficult not to. He was desperately trying to focus on their escape route and not the pretty face and curves under his body. His sole aim had been to get her out of sight and disguised enough to keep her alive, his own fate meaning less than hers. So far he had prevailed and his plan had worked but they couldn’t stay much longer. He could only hope the men would sleep soon and he and Jess could slip out undetected. She wriggled under him and he lifted his head, checking her face in the faint moonlight.

Stay still. Please, stay still. Stop rubbin’ against me. Shit.

“Sorry. My ass is numb.” She uttered.

“Yeah? Well, my everythin’ is numb. Keep still.” He told her.

A short sigh followed a nod of acceptance from Jess and she rested her head to the side, watching the water as it trickled past in its tiny, mud filled waves.

“Hey, Bobby. Get ya lazy ass up and go on over yonder to that stream. We need us some water. Gonna have boil the shit out of it but it’ll have to do.” Came the voice of authority from the group.

Jess’s heart felt like it jumped up to her throat and Daryl jolted before his arms closed further into her sides, urging her not to move an inch. He heard her breathing increase as panic began to set in.

“It’s ok.” He soothed “I got this. It’s ok.”

Footsteps neared their location, along with tuneful whistling and intermittent mumbling about how they were all going to catch damn rabies from drinking that water but if Jack says it, then it must be so. Daryl shuffled up and brought his lips to her ear, his breath tickling at her neck.

“Whatever happens, stay here.”

She shook her head, “But, I can help.”

“No.” He grunted back.

“Daryl-”

“-Shut up n’ listen to me, girl.” He demanded “I don’t care what you say or how much ya argue with me. Ya heard what they said n’ there’s five of ‘em n two of us. I can’t let them see you. Ya female. I won’t have ‘em touchin’ you. So, please…Jess…just stay here.”

Daryl wasn’t sure if he meant it as an affectionate motion but it screamed tenderness and caring when he lifted himself onto one elbow and gently moved some of her hair from her face. She blinked at him and held her breath, wishing that they were anywhere else but tucked under the roots of a tree in the darkness and laying in a puddle of stinking mud.

“I won’t lose you...not again.” He added.

Emotion rushed to the surface inside Jess and her eyes turned watery, she had no way to hide it and was forced to accept that Daryl could probably see that she wanted to cry.

“OK.” She agreed “but, Daryl...?”

The footsteps were almost upon them.

“Yeah?”

“Please don’t die”

She was sure she could sense his hand open at the side of her face as if he were about to caress her cheek but she couldn’t be sure, the darkness and her inability to take her eyes away from his face left her unable to decide. If he did, he stopped short of actually touching her and in the seconds that followed her thoughts were ripped away from his potentially romantic gesture and thrown towards the man that was crouched at the side of the stream, whistling and edging further towards the lip of the bank to fill the plastic bottle in his hand. He was a stones throw from them, a meter or so and Daryl was weighing up his options.

Jess almost squeaked in surprise when the man slipped from the edge and tumbled into the water, creating a loud splash. He swore loudly and sat up like toddler in a playpen, shaking his wet hair from his face and spitting out dirty water. Then, his head turned and he locked eyes with Daryl and Jess. The seconds that passed between him noticing them and his mouth opening to yell were more like minutes and slow-motion ones at that.

“HEY GU-”

He was cut off by Daryl throwing himself at him and barreling him back under the water. Jess shot up and crawled from the bank, ignoring Daryl’s instructions to stay put and grabbed her bow and his crossbow from under the water. When she took a glance at the other men up in the clearing, they were all too busy laughing to have noticed the noise of the fracas that was unfolding in the stream.

Daryl’s arms glistened in the moonlight as he clenched his jaw and held on to the man’s throat with all his might. His victims head was completely submerged, bubbles billowing up to the surface from his nose and mouth. A strained grunt escaped Daryl as he shoved down harder, wishing the man would just give up so they could escape. He avoided the kicking of his legs and the desperate clawing of the man’s hands on his chest and biceps and kept on, applying more and more pressure while covered in dark mud like a crazed swamp monster. Jess slung the crossbow over her shoulder and readied her bow, nocking an arrow and taking a rough aim, well aware that she could shoot Daryl in the wrist or hand under the water if she got it wrong. The mud from her face was trickling into her eyes and she tried to blink it away, blurring her vision more. She steadied her breathing and tried to focus and just when she was about to release the arrow, the man went limp. She looked on with wide eyes, knowing that Daryl had killed people but seeing him murder a man in front of her made it all the more real.

Daryl’s chest was rising and falling rapidly and despite the freezing temperatures, his brow was slick with sweat. He flickered his eyes up to her and sprang to his feet, keeping his body low he grabbed her wrist.

“C’mon, we gotta run ‘fore they find him.”

= = = = =

Climbing up the bank as quietly as humanly possible proved to be quite the task with nothing between them to obscure the vision of the men around the campfire. Daryl had to choose a moment and stick with it and when he did, he pulled on Jess’s arm so hard he almost flung her off of her feet and up to the woodland floor. She grabbed handfuls of leaves and twigs as she dragged herself up to start running and felt Daryl clamp a hand around her wrist once more. He ran as fast as he could and eventually let go when he saw that she could keep up with him without assistance.

Behind them, shouting could be heard by the stream. The men had discovered their dead friend and Jess didn’t feel an ounce of guilt when she hoped that he would turn in the water and kill them all. Her feet were squelching inside her boots as they hammered the dirty ground and leapt over fallen branches and logs. Although the paranoia and fear that swirled around in her head was telling her otherwise, the distance between her and Daryl and their pursuers was enough to provide them with precious seconds upon reaching their truck.

Daryl jumped into the driver’s seat and Jess didn’t bother to make a comment about him not being able to understand a gearbox. Instead, she simply clambered into the passenger’s side and yelled at him to drive. Ignoring her instance upon trying to burst his eardrums, he tried to focus and the truck jumped back once, then twice.

“Stop switching it up so much!” She cried “Put it in first, then switch it!”

“I am, dammit.” He snapped back.

She could see silhouetted figures charging towards them through the trees and flashlights darting about like a light show. Her heart was pounding in her head.

“They’re coming, Daryl. Move the damn truck” she muttered, now rooted to the spot with fear. “We need to move. We need to go or they’re going to turn me into a baby machine. Let’s go. Come on, move it.”

“I know! Just shut up!” he spat, seemingly making the trucks gears grind with everything he tried.

“Trust me to get stuck with the one Redneck who can’t drive stick!” Jess suddenly yelled, trying to stand up in the tiny cab and shifting in front of him with her backside in his face. He sat back and held his hands up, not wanting to touch her without warning and make her even more mad.

“What the fuck are ya doin?!” He shouted back at her.

“Giving you a lap dance! What the hell do you think I’m doing?! Move your ass across to the other seat, I’m driving!” She shrieked at him.

“God sakes, girl!” He complained while he slid across the seats to the other side and made sure the doors were locked.

Jess put the truck in gear, switched to reverse and hit the gas. The truck shot backwards to the road where she spun the wheel and set off into the distance, leaving the furious men from the clearing jogging to a halt behind them. Daryl opened the glove box and retrieved a map, opening it up on the dash and switching on the overhead light.

“What d’ya think? Circle back or change direction?” He questioned. He knew she would understand what he meant. She was smart enough to know that they had to choose one of two options to be able to outrun them when they got back to their bikes and set off down the same road.

“Change direction.” She answered.

“Alright.” He agreed “Take a right at the end of this road and just keep drivin’, we’ll have to camp somewhere.”

Her face was drying tight with the mud that was caked over her skin and she remembered how softy Daryl had smeared it across her cheeks. Despite the vehicle starting to smell like animal faeces and stagnant water and the two of them looking like the creatures from the black lagoon, Jess couldn’t help but admit that she enjoyed the feeling of him protecting her and in particular, how gentle he had been when he pushed her hair from her face with a fingertip.

The movement of the truck meant that his body swayed subtly as he leaned against the window and sighed. Jess stole a few glances here and there when guilt struck her for yelling at him. The road ahead was sill and dark and rain lashed against the windscreen as the truck pummeled through it. She could see no other headlights or signs of other vehicles each time she checked the rear-view mirror and could only conclude that they’d managed to escape and that if they stayed on the road a little longer, they would be able to find somewhere safe to stop for the night. Another glimpse to her side saw Daryl peering out of his window into the blackness.

“Keep ya eyes on the road.” He ordered.

“I am” She argued.

“No, ya aint. Ya keep lookin’ at me. Can see ya in the reflection.”

Dammit. You’d have made a shitty spy.

In pure spite of his comment and to prove that she wasn’t going to plough into the non-existent oncoming traffic, she twisted her body to face him and glared right at him. He scoffed and shook his head at her stubbornness. Whatever she’d been doing in the months she was apart from him; she’d definitely developed a stubbornness and a sense of defiance that he didn’t detect in her before. Ignoring her almost childish gesture, he leaned forwards to check the map after spotting a road sign that meant they were at least three miles out from where they’d come across the dangerous group of men.

Deciding between them on the next steps to take, they opted to continue driving until they were well out of the way of any patrolling members of their group and Jess put her foot to the floor and sped the truck to the next intersection, where she headed for the highway.

After forty minutes, Daryl held a hand up and signaled for her to slow down, a street sign for ‘The Blue Moon Show lounge’ shot past and he told her to take the next left. Jess was tired and disinterested in arguing, she could have fallen asleep at the wheel if she had to drive any further and so the inviting idea of four walls and a roof was a much desired one.

Little did she know, ‘The Blue Moon’ was an off the highway strip bar nestled at the end of a dirt track and hidden rom the road. It provided them with a place to keep the truck and a roof over their heads for the night. They worked together to clear the building with Jess taking the main bar area and Daryl sweeping the rooms at the back. Five dead bodies were inside, one almost skeletal and the others so chewed up that it was impossible for them to be a threat. Jess put them down easily with her knife and Daryl dragged them out to the storage room.

When he returned to the bar, Jess had upturned two flashlights to light up the room and was noisily rummaging around behind the counter, lifting up bottles and squinting at the labels. She’d emptied the refrigerators and huffed and puffed like a train when she appeared to come up with nothing.

Daryl headed to the door and secured the inside lock, giving the doors a shake in their frames to ensure they were solid enough to protect them.

“For god sakes” he heard her hiss to herself.

“What’s up?” He asked

“All this liquid and there’s not one, single drop of water. I want to clean this crap off my skin.” She complained.

He joined her behind the bar and examined the top shelf above the optics where there was a line of branded vodka bottles that all appeared to be full. He reached up and slid one from the shelf, unscrewing the cap and smelling it.

“Use this” he suggested.

“Really? A vodka shower?” She commented, unimpressed.

“No, dumbass. It’s water. They fill the bottles with it to make ‘em look full. S’all for show”

She didn’t ask how he knew such information and he was glad of it. He’d spent most of his life tagging along with his father and Merle in bars and strip clubs and as a result tended to know a lot of the tricks of the trade. He wasn’t proud of it and hardly ever enjoyed it, although he kept that fact to himself, knowing better than to complain and that if he did, it was likely to get him nothing but a beating.

“Oh” She remarked with a degree of embarrassment “Well, OK. You’re going to have to leave the room or turn around or something. I need some privacy.”

“Check out back. These places usually have private rooms.” He suggested carelessly while rounding the bar and plonking down in a plush chair in front of the stage. Jess followed him and stopped at the start of the seating area. She raised her eyebrow at him. Now, she was going to ask.

“You spend a lot of time in titty bars before the turn, Daryl?” She smirked.

“No.” He mumbled, taking a quick swig from a half bottle of liquor he’d picked up from behind the bar. He hadn’t been drunk since the turn and had no intentions to either. He didn’t like who he was when he was drunk, so the bottle in his hand was only there to take the edge off after recent events “Not unless my brother dragged me to ‘em.”

“Right. Blame it on Merle. So, it wasn’t the breast implants and g-strings?” She grinned.

That damn smile. Stop it.

“You’re an ass, y’know that?” His comment was not only directed at her mockery of his knowledge of strip bars, it was also a veiled prod at her bright smile and the effect it had on him. He wasn’t sure if he wanted her to smile or not anymore.

“Yeah. I’m good with that.” She agreed as she headed for the double doors that led to the back rooms.

“’Sides, this ain't a titty bar. S’a show lounge” He called out, hearing her chuckle as she left the room.

Jess paced through a hallway full of framed pin up pictures and pushed open doors as she went. Finding a dressing room and the private rooms Daryl was so sure was in existence. She entered the first once where she was able to partially undress and wash some of the mud from her skin with a t-shirt she found screwed up and discarded on the red velvet couch. There were other clothes scattered about. The room boasted rather obvious CCTV cameras and she wonders how much one might pay for a dance in such a room.

Daryl took the opportunity to amble around the building and collect any supplies they might need. When he reached the hallway, he passed the partially open door to the room Jess occupied and found himself doing a double take. The glimpse of her bare skin and the clasp of a black bra through the crack in the door rendered him motionless and everything around him seemed to just drop away. Her back was to him as she gently wiped at her arms with the wet T-shirt. He knew he shouldn’t look and guilt raged through him but she was a vision, even from behind and with her skin sporting the cracked, jagged lines of dried mud. Her black hair swayed at her back in waves from being tied up into a braid. She dropped the t-shirt and lifted both hands, twisting her hair up on top of her head and fastening it with an elastic. He thought for a moment that he might have been dreaming at the sight of the curve of her waist, but it was real. So very real and all he could do was bite his lip and force himself to move on down the hall, giving Jess back the privacy that she deserved.

= = = = =

When she returned to the main area, she found him sitting on the floor of the stage at the bottom of the pole opening up two cans of pasta with his knife. Jess was relieved they always packed cans in the truck in case they got caught holed up somewhere with no food, much like the situation she found herself in at that moment. She was starving, the smell of the meat from the camp by the stream stirring her need to eat.

Daryl slid a can to her when she sat down cross-legged opposite him with the pole between them and looked around the room, craning her neck to observe the ceiling, the unused lighting rigs and the DJ booth. She mirrored him as he lifted his can to his lips and took big gulps of the gloopy pasta. Her stomach immediately began to settle with some sustenance and she was soon feeling a lot more human again.

“So, how much would you expect to pay for a private room in a place like this?” She wanted to know. The need to wind him up a little more mixing with her genuine curiosity from standing in the room and playing with the idea of what the business must have been like before the turn.

“A lot.” He grumbled.

“C’mon, I’m curious. What would happen in there?” She pressed

“Private dance. No clothes. Some dirty talk. No rush to the next guy with a wad of fifties. S’bout it.”

Her eyebrows lifted and she emptied the final remnant of the pasts into her mouth and chewed. When she was done, she thudded the can down beside her and narrowed her eyes at him.

“You ever done that?” She questioned

His expression changed as he looked up at her through his hair with a can of pasta gripped in his fist. At first, he was calm and willing to talk but her topic of choice was grating on him.

For someone who doesn’t wanna be too friendly she’s sure askin’ me a lot of shit.

“That what you think of me?” he wanted to know.

“Course not, you said Merle dragged you to places like this. So, I just wondered.” She shrugged as if it was nothing.

“Nah. I ain't. Not my thing.” He replied. Cutting the conversation short when he lit a smoke and fell silent. His face was downcast and Jess could tell he was tired too. Taking another person’s life was never an easy task, even in a ‘one or the other’ situation. Given no choice, Daryl had acted to save them both and Jess knew from personal experience that the vision of it doesn’t just go away.

“Are you alright?” She asked him.

“Yeah.” He replied thoughtfully. It wasn’t hard to guess what she was referring to and he appreciated her asking.

“What you did back there… keeping me safe…” she started with a quick glance up at him. He was watching her though his still damp hair. “…thank you. I’m not so good with people. I can fight walkers but when it comes to people, I’ve always managed to just stay out of sight. Terminus was the first time I put myself in full view of anyone still living for a long time. I panicked tonight.”

“I’d do it again tomorrow. Forget it.” Was his oxymoron of a reply. Simple but complex in a way only Daryl could create. He said very little but meant a world of things behind it. It was not lost on Jess; she knew exactly what he meant without having to dissect the sentence.

I’d kill a hundred people just to keep you safe.

“Sorry I almost crushed ya.” He mumbled as he picked at the frayed thread on the ankle of his boot.

“Oh, don’t worry. You didn’t. It’s fine. We had no choice.”

“Yeah. For sure. No choice.”

“Uh Huh. I mean, it wasn’t all bad…”

Stop talking, Jess.

“…you kept me warm. I hope I kept you warm. It was- it was OK. Was fine...”

Stop. Fucking. Talking.

“…it was nice. I mean, it wasn’t nice like that, uh…no. It was nice of you. I’m going to stop talking now”

He nibbled on his lower lip, a habit he used to stop himself from smiling but it was showing regardless, the corner of his mouth curling up. He didn’t know what she was trying to tell him or why she was suddenly so all over the place and full of nerves, but he did feel the intense, awkward nature of their experience under the trees roots in the stream and he couldn’t deny that if it had been anyone else but Jess, that awkwardness wouldn’t have been present at all. She was turning herself inside out as she picked at the cold can of pasta that had been discarded and brought back to her hands and he could practically see her cursing herself for talking too much. It was the most vulnerable he’d seen her since the quarry and in that moment, he was certain that the old Jess never really went away at all. Opting to change the subject and spare her the agony of mulling over her previous ramblings, he entertained his desire to find out more about why she left.

“Ya never told me exactly why ya bailed” he mentioned.

Unable to avoid his questions, with no one or nowhere to run to, she accepted she at least had to offer him some kind of explanation and after he’d murdered a man with his bare hands to keep her safe, it was the least she could do.

“A few reasons. I didn’t fit in. I was an outcast.”

Being made to actually say the reasons why she left wasn’t something she thought she’d have trouble with. Before it had all been written down in the confines of the pages in her journal. Now, having to voice her decision-making process was turning out to be harder than she thought.

“And I aint? I aint like them. You know that.” He countered.

“You belong with them. I didn’t.” She clarified.

She could tell her answer was nowhere near good enough for him and when he took a long pull of his smoke and sighed thoughtfully, she knew the conversation was far from over.

“That the real reason?” He pressed.

“You mean aside from hearing you say I meant nothing to you and the humiliation?” She quickly threw in.

“That was bullshit, Jess. Ya know I didn’t mean that.” He told her with no hesitation “N’ ya shouldn’t have let those bitches drive ya away like that.”

Hindsight had been a wonderful thing in the story of why Jess had left the camp. There were plenty of why’s and what ifs to contemplate when she thought back but perhaps the biggest one to her was; what if she’d stayed and asked him about what she’d heard? Would it have changed anything? In her heart she knew it probably wouldn’t have and that she still would have ended up departing at some point. She didn’t mean to dredge up the past and what she’d overheard yet again, in fact, she would rather have let it stay in the past and never be spoken of again. But it slipped out and now she knew she sounded bitter and resentful.

“Let me ask you something.” She said, shuffling forwards and holding on to the pole. She rested her head on the back of her hand. “When we first spoke, you asked me exactly what I did in the group. I couldn’t answer you. What did I contribute? What was my role exactly? Carol, she cooked, cleaned everybody’s clothes and is actually really strategic and logical and apparently great with a rifle. Glenn was the go-to guy for runs, You and Merle were the hunters. What did I do?”

Daryl had no answer to offer. All he could do was stare at her and his simmering gaze would have made her knees weak had she been standing up.

“Exactly. So, it wasn’t just a decision I made for me. I made it for everybody else too. I was one less mouth to feed. I’m not sorry I left, Daryl. Look at me now, I’m so much better off for it. I can look after myself. I’m not just some chubby nerd anymore.” She explained.

“Stop it.” He snapped.

“Stop what? Telling the truth?”

“Ain't the truth” he argued, stubbing out his smoke on the stage and flicking it behind him.

“Yes, it is! I buried my head in books and still wore collectible T-Shirts! That girl, she was a big, useless nerd. It’s been a long time since I was her.”

“Yeah. I noticed.”

“You don’t like the change?” She asked.

“Never said that.”

“I guess I always liked the idea of not being what everybody else expected me to be.” She mused.

“Ya doin’ a great job.”

“Your sarcasm is stifling.” She shot at him with an irritated look.

“There wasn’t nothin wrong with ya.” He affirmed.

“Funny, that’s not how I was made to feel.”

“Yeah? Well I was out trackin’ that girl every day for two weeks!” He threw at her with a raised voice. “Guess she was really listenin’ when I taught her how to track. Covered ‘em well.” He got to his feet and started to pace the stage, back and forth, outwardly riled and angered by his disagreement of her choices. But they were not his choices to make and she was not about to get into a debate over that.

Jess didn’t rise to his temper. She stayed in her spot by the pole and witnessed him gradually slow down as the minutes passed.

“I listened to everything you taught me. If you hadn’t taught me all the things you did, I wouldn’t be here now.” She offered as a kind of truce.

You’re mad at me. But you’re the reason I’m still alive. You kept me alive and you weren’t even there.

“Shouldn’t have taught ya nothin. Ya wouldn’t have left then.” He mumbled under his breath.

His admittance said more to Jess than she’d anticipated and she realized as she sat and studied his body language, expression and the things he was saying that she really had hurt him by leaving without a word. By leaving at all. It was now more obvious than ever that he didn’t mean a word of what he said to Merle. Until then, Jess had never dared to hope that she meant anything to anyone. But it was etched on Daryl’s face as plain as day.

“I’d be dead if it wasn’t for you” She whispered.

“Whatever” He grunted, jumping down from the stage and grabbing the liquor bottle from the seat he’d previously been resting in. He took a large gulp, winced and headed to the bar.

“Since you successfully managed to destroy that conversation, I’m going to find somewhere to sleep. Wake me in a couple hours and we’ll swap.” She declared.

“The fuck do you even want from me, huh?” He questioned out of nowhere. “Say ya don’t want nothin’ to do with nobody, live like a damn hermit, refuse to move to Alexandria. Ya let Abraham leer at ya like some two-dollar whore n ya blow so fuckin hot n’ cold with me I don’t know what the hell you want!”

In truth, Jess wasn’t sure what she wanted when she first revealed her identity to him. But after the events of the last 24 hours and all the days spent engaged in prodding mockery and sometimes meaningless conversations, she could conclude that trying to rebuild what they used to have was what she truly wanted. But it wasn’t that easy. She blinked slowly at him from the stage, standing just out of the beam of the flashlight and tried to ignore his scathing comments, purely born from his anger.

“It’s complicated.” She uttered. “I spent so long thinking you hated me. I don’t trust anybody.” He wanted to yell at her that he never hated her, that he cared about her more than even he knew and how much it killed him when she left.

“Ya said we’re as good as we’re gonna be. We’re doin’ better than that. You know we are” He commented. “Do you even wanna be friends like we were before? You n’ me?”

She jumped down from the stage and paused by the double doors with her hand flat on the surface. His apparent unwavering belief in their ability to rebuild their friendship was touching and something she wanted to believe with every piece of her heart. His words back at the stream echoed in her head.

"I won't lose you...not again."

“You and me” She echoed with a sad smile. “It’s a nice prospect…. I’m trying, Daryl.” She uttered before heading through the door and back to the private room she changed in. Before she could even think of such a heavy topic, she needed to invite the sweet embrace of sleep her heavy eyes and weary bones so craved.

= = = = =

Deanna was frantic when Daryl and Jess finally arrived back at Alexandria in the evening of the following day after enduring hours of tense silence. The route back was longer than expected due to how far out of the way Jess had driven them to avoid the eyes of the group of bikers from the woods. Once Jess explained to Alexandria’s leader what had happened and Daryl unloaded the boxes at the armory, Jess handed the keys back and crossed the street in pursuit of Aaron, who she’d spotted sitting on his front porch when she drove through the gate. Daryl noticed her striding past him and ran after her, catching her arm with his hand. She whirled around, mask and hood up and her eyes flashed with impatience.

“Sorry. ‘bout last night. I was an asshole.” He said, stepping closer and checking his surroundings. Night was falling and the streets were still occupied by patrols and children playing.

“It’s fine. I understand.” She said before trying to back up but he only followed her.

“I’ve never been good with feelings n' stuff. ‘Cept anger. Anger’s what I do.” He confessed.

“You don’t have to explain. Really. Thanks again for what you did - making sure I was safe. Goodnight” She nodded at him with another attempt to move away and this time she triumphed. Daryl stood at the side of the road, under a street light and watched her approach Eric and Aaron’s porch.

NEXT CHAPTER

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staygoldsunshine · 5 years

Text

Alexander the Great

A Lumen Story: Part 2

A week later, Mrs. McHale shows up to the PTA meeting with a bruise on her jaw. The other moms shake their heads and murmur their bless-her-heart’s over their lemon sweet tea while silently distancing themselves from the Japanese woman. Nicholas Smoak tells his son all about it at the dinner table.

“Should’ve seen that poor woman tonight,” his thick Southern accent coating all his words in honey. He scratches his full, red beard and sighs. “You’d think he’d have the better sense not to let her out of the house looking like that.”

Xander sets his jaw. “Dad.”

Nicholas looks up from his paper, licks his thumb, and turns the page as easily as he can switch topics of conversation. “How is the McHale boy doing in training, by the way? Coach says he’s been struggling to fit in.”

Xander shrugs his shoulders and stabs his leftovers with his fork. “No kidding.” But when his father clears his throat, Xander’s spine straightens. “He’s cocky, always going on about how good he is, but when he has to fight against someone, he always chokes. Everyone knows he’s just biding time until they kick him out because he’s already been kicked from the AV club. So that means there’s only the choir left for an extracurricular, and everyone knows Miss Agnice would sooner die than let a guy get kicked out of the choir.”

“What do you think?” Nick lets the question simmer between them as Xander sits in nervous silence twisting the blue checkered tablecloth between his fingers. “You know, if you’re going to become the Knight’s Captain, you’re going to have to learn to spot talent among your team.”

And there it is, the inevitable sword hanging above Xander’s head. His dad was Captain, and his grandad was Captain. He’s pretty sure every man in his family, in the whole Smoak line has been the greatest at whatever he’s set out to do, and so Alexander Smoak has to do the same. He has to be great.

“He knows the woods better than anyone,” Xander mutters, thinking of the way Tristan can disappear into those leaves and branches just like a ghost. “When we practice tracking, he finds the trails faster and follows them longer than anyone else, but he’s never made a single kill, even with help.”

“So he is useful.” That’s the thing about his dad. He sees people in terms of usefulness, their abilities lined up against their faults. Those calculating blue eyes are always weighing and judging even through their practiced smile lines, and Xander wonders every day if he stacks up in his dad’s mind. “Interesting, be sure you tell Coach.” Then Nicholas folds his newspaper, gathers his plate, and walks to the kitchen. “I’ll be working late tonight. Be sure you get to bed on time.”

Xander goes back to stabbing his food. “Yes, sir.”

Once his dad has shut himself in his office for the night, Xander gets up, dumps his plate, and rushes up the stairs to finish the Lego set he’s been working on. He opens the door to his room and feels hot, humid air hit his face. The window is open. A gentle breeze send the curtains billowing like the wings of a creature about to take flight.

Xander grabs the sword, the real one, from beside his bed. Lumen don’t come into town, he reminds himself, his heart beating out of control. His head spins, thinking of those claws, the teeth, the bright white eyes. He flicks on the light. And he sees someone leaned against the wall beneath his window.

“McHale?”

Tristan waves. “Hi.” His hair is a mess, littered with leaves and burs. He’s still wearing that stupid jean jacket, and his sneakers are caked in mud. Tristan carries the smell of the woods with him, and Xander realizes that the scent alone makes him uneasy.

Parry the initial attack… “Wh-what in the world are you doing in my house?” Xander shuts the door behind him, but he doesn’t set his sword down.

Tristan shrugs, pulling one of his legs against his chest. He’s all joints and jagged lines. “You know, Dad was in a mood again, so I ducked out and came here.”

Knock his weapon aside… Xander furrows his brow and glares at the flippant intruder. “But why come to my house?”

“Well, it was the biggest one on the block, so I figured it was yours. And since you’re the closest thing I have to a friend, I thought maybe you wouldn’t mind if I hung out for a bit.” Tristan gives a bright smile, the same smile he always has when he enters the ring, knowing he’s going to lose.

This time, however, Xander feels his back hit the dirt, and Tristan wins this round. Xander blinks once, looks away, and blinks again. “Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me.” He thinks of his dad, downstairs in his office and considers shouting down to him. His dad will know how to handle this.

Tristan tilts his head to the side and seems to read Xander’s thoughts. “Hey, I’m not too happy with the situation either. Normally I go to Garra Price’s house and crash on her couch, but she’s out of town for a stupid wedding or something.” Then he glances over at the Lego set at the foot of Xander’s bed. “Camouflaged Outpost I see, nice.”

Xander shakes his head and raises the tip of his blade without realizing it. “No, we are not friends. Now get out of my house!”

“We had a conversation last week! You knocked me down a bunch of times, and then you let me win the match. We bonded!” Tristan’s smile is becoming strained, and when Xander takes a step back towards the door, the other boy actually flinches. “Look, please don’t tell your dad I’m here. I can’t go home right now, okay?” The breath of wind that has followed Tristan through the window carries the smell of honeysuckle and fresh rain. Xander grips his sword tighter as he considers the boy sitting on his floor, the boy who doesn’t fit into Xander’s calculated theory of monsters and knights and becoming great.

All Xander sees is a tired boy with a look in his eyes like a dog that’s been kicked too many times, and Xander finally puts his sword down. A good leader helps even the weakest link in his team, right? “Fine, I won’t tell him, but don’t make this a regular thing.”

Tristan nods, a grateful sigh releasing the tension from his shoulders. “Yeah, yeah, it won’t happen again.”

It happens again, several times, actually. Tristan shows up in Xander’s room, always through the second-floor window, always with a smile no matter how tired he looks. Xander gets used to keeping snacks in his dresser, extra blankets and a pillow in the top of his closet, and an old comic or two since most of the time Tristan never does manage to get to sleep anyway. Yet he’s always gone again the next morning when Xander wakes up to get ready for school.

When they do see each other during the day, Tristan normally avoids Xander except for in the ring where he has no choice. They only ever really talk when Tristan “comes to visit,” as he calls it. Xander begins to mind the intrusions less and less, and eventually, he even looks forward to finding his window open. As summer gives way to the first cool days of fall, when the other Knights try to make nasty comments about the fight Tristan’s parents had in the supermarket or the fact that he’s “half-Jap,” Xander finds himself telling them to shut up and mind their own business before he even realizes the words are coming out of his mouth. No one questions why, at least not out loud.

“Coach says that the McHale boy is more cooperative in training now.” Nicholas raises an eyebrow at his son. “Would that have anything to do with you?”

“I think he’s an asset, so I had a talk with Tristan, that’s all.” His father wouldn’t approve of the new friendship. It’s one thing to be a good leader, but becoming friends with Tristan, the son of the town drunk and his mail-order bride, that’s another thing entirely. Xander rinses off the plate he’s been washing and sets it in the drying rack. “I thought you wanted me to take initiative about things like that.”

Nicholas tucks his hands into his pockets, a tactic he uses often in his speeches. It gives him the appearance of a Good Ole Boy, with his flannel shirts and well-groomed beard. “I do, son, but be careful with that boy. His father…”

“Why doesn’t someone arrest him anyway? We all know what he does.” Xander looks up from washing dishes and catches the look of outrage on his father’s face before it’s masked behind polite indifference again.

“I had a talk with James last week. You know he’s an old friend of mine, Alexander. This is a small community, and issues like these have to be handled delicately.” Nicholas’ voice is all honey again, honey and sweet tea and a summer night.

Xander drops the cup he was washing back into the sink and turns off the water. “Well, maybe I don’t think you’re handling it correctly.” A collectively held breath hangs overhead, just like when the forest knows there’s a monster lurking, just like when Xander grips his sword in his hand and prepares himself for a fight.

Nicholas Smoak sets his jaw. “What did you just say to me?” The monster swipes its claws through the air, and Xander has to dodge or risk losing his head.

Normally Xander would never do this. His father’s word was always law, ever since he was a little kid, but now, now Xander knows Tristan. They’ve never talked about it, not really, but he knows why Tristan never takes off that blue jean jacket or why he disappears into the woods after practice instead of heading home. He knows why Tristan doesn’t like hurting people, even in practice. A great leader knows how to spot danger.

“You should arrest Mr. McHale, Dad. You’re letting him hurt his wife and son, and that’s wrong.” In his mind, Xander’s sword flashes in the kitchen light. The monster rears back, ready for another strike.

Nicholas strides across the kitchen floor, grabs his son by the arm, and leans in close, so close that Xander has to look away. “You listen to me, boy. Just because you think you know everything doesn’t mean that you can use that tone with me. I am not one of your buddies at school. I am your father, and I deserve your respect.” He releases Xander’s arm, but Xander can still feel the monster’s breath on his face. “Go to your room, and I don’t want to see you again until you get home from school tomorrow. Am I understood?”

Still looking at the floor, Xander replies, “Yes, sir,” and runs up to his room, a retreat he would normally never allow. The window is open, and Xander feels a rush of relief. Only, instead of honeysuckle and fresh rain and decaying leaves, the breeze blowing through the window carries the smell of blood.

#alexander smoak #tristan mchale #alexander the great #lumen

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unfortunate-stranger-losers · 5 years

Photo

Six Baudelaires AU, Part Two {AO3} {Masterlist} {Part One}

Chapter Twenty-Six → in which Klaus impersonates a Doctor

“So,” Nick asked, sitting on the dirt, “What’s the plan?”

Lilac pulled on her ribbon and said, “Klaus and the girls found some discarded uniforms. Too small, ripped or torn, dirtied up, stuff like that.”

“Looks like they were left out here for trash collection.” Klaus said. “But we can use these! They don’t look too rough, we can easily use them as disguises.”

Nick narrowed his eyes. “Disguises?”

Sunny nodded enthusiastically. “Doctors!” she said.

“Klaus wants to dress up as doctors and sneak Violet out of the hospital.” Lilac said darkly. “I think there are so many ways that plan could go wrong.”

“So long as we really act well,” Klaus said, “People might just think we’re short doctors. Everyone always buys into Olaf’s disguises. So why can’t we give it a try?”

Nick flinched. “You want to be like him?”

“We’re just…” Klaus paused, glancing at Soli.

“Using everyone’s dumbassery to our advantage.” Solitude shrugged.

Nick smiled a little, ruffling Soli’s hair. “Fair.”

“Not fair.” Lilac said, putting a hand on her necklace. “What if we get caught?”

“Yeet Babbitt.” Solitude said.

“Bite.” Sunny said.

“Stab.” Klaus said.

“We don’t have weapons.” Lilac reminded him. “And they have Violet. Listen, I want to get her back, too-”

“So do you have a better plan?” Klaus asked.

Lilac paused. “The vents. They look big enough to crawl through comfortably. We could go through there…”

“And then we have to stick to the shadows.” Klaus said. “And we can’t get directions or find people who could help us. If we get caught, we have no excuses.”

“But it’ll be safer.”

“No, it’s just… safer in one way, more dangerous in another.”

“Don’t fight!” Solitude said, throwing her hands over her ears.

Klaus and Lilac stopped a moment. “I’m sorry, Solitude.” Lilac said. “But we’re not fighting.”

“We’re not mad at each other.” Klaus promised. “Just a little stressed.”

Nick hesitated. “In the doctor disguises… would we have to… to see them?”

“The troupe?” Klaus asked. Nick shut his eyes and nodded, scratching his arm, and his brother continued, “Possibly.”

Nick sighed. “Then I have a plan.”

“Nick plans are best plans.” Solitude beamed.

“Whazzit?” Sunny asked.

Nick bit his lip. “Klaus, you and Li go in as doctors. I’ll go through the vents with the girls.”

“What?” Lilac jumped.

“You two get the info you need from the staff, or, hell, even the dumbass singing Volunteers.” Nick said. “We’ll follow you in the vents, serve as backup if anything should happen. Once you find Violet, we’ll follow you out. We get back out here, hotwire a car, find our way somewhere… somewhere else.”

“No.” Lilac shook her head. “No, we’re not splitting up.”

“We won’t be.” Nick said. “I’ll be right with you the whole time. And it’ll be safer for the girls to not be walking around the hospital.”

Sunny shook her head. “Calil.” she said, which meant something like, “I’m staying with Lilac and Klaus. They might need a biter.”

“Um, no.” Lilac said.

Sunny gave her a glare, and then picked up a large coat. “Lif!” she said, which meant, “Someone wear this and strap me inside, I’ll fit!”

“I could do that.” Klaus said. “I’ve carried you in baby bjorns before.”

“I… I don’t know.” Lilac said. “I don’t want any of you getting hurt. I can’t…” she shut her eyes. “I can’t lose anyone else.”

Klaus threw his arm around her, and said, “Nothing’s going to happen. But none of us are just going to sit around while that creep has our Violet.”

Lilac bit her lip. “I just… when I think about her…”

“We won’t let anything happen to her.” Nick promised. “But we have to get her back, before they can get her away from us.”

Slowly, carefully, Lilac nodded. And then she said, “I… I just want you to know. I will do whatever it takes to make sure you all stay safe.”

Nick leaned forward and put a hand over hers, and Solitude grabbed the other and said, “Same for you.”

Lilac shut her eyes and then said, “If we’re going in disguise, can you… help me with something?”

“Of course.” Klaus nodded.

Lilac bit her lip. “We’re going to need to do something with my hair. The braids are… too recognizable.”

They were silent for a long moment, just staring at her. Then Nick scooted forwards and grabbed one of her braids. Slowly, he started to unravel it, and then Klaus took one, and then the toddlers wandered over and managed to reach up and unbraid one each. As they worked, Lilac pulled her ribbon from her dress, wrapping and unwrapping it around her palm.

When her siblings finally moved away, Lilac took her hair in her hands, shutting her eyes as she tried to figure out what to do. Then she took her hair and pulled it up, wrapping and piling until she had a messy bun. She tied it with her ribbon, making a bow, which she normally never did. She pushed a stray hair behind her ear and said, “How’s this look?”

Klaus leaned forwards and gave her a hug. And then the toddlers and Nick joined in, and they all sat together in silence for a long while.

As soon as Nick climbed into the vents, he realized he’d made a huge mistake.

Solitude was already crawling ahead of him, with Babbitt hopping ahead of her, peering through the grates to make sure they were ahead of their siblings. Nick slowly moved forwards, trying to keep from shaking, and then he whispered, “Soli?”

“Hmm?”

Nick took a deep breath. “These vents are a lot bigger than I thought, but, um… they’re still pretty cramped.”

Solitude shrugged. Of course it didn’t seem cramped to her, she was only a little over two feet tall.

“I was just… I’m not sure I like how small it is.”

Solitude peered over her shoulder, looking very confused. That made sense; she’d never known him to be claustrophobic. Not at all. She probably didn’t get it. “Oh?”

“So, I’m just saying… it should be big enough, but if I start to… to freak out, cause I already feel real nervous right now, can you just… find a safe place to let me out?”

Solitude paused, and then said, “Okay.”

“Thanks, Sol.”

Solitude gave him a bright smile. “No problem, bro!”

Babbitt hopped ahead, and Solitude followed. Nick took another breath, looking down the vent. He could see light this way. He could see the way out.

You’re going to be fine. You’re not there anymore. Lilac, Klaus and Sunny are out there.

And Violet needs you.

“Klaus, move faster.” Lilac hissed.

“I’m sorry, do you want to carry the baby?”

“Yes, actually. But there’s no time to switch, is there?”

The costumes were very rushed; Lilac was normally pretty good with them, having put together her own outfits a lot, as well as spending a lot of time with their Mother whenever she went over costume inventory for her performances, but they had been in quite the hurry and they were all very stressed.

Klaus’s large jacket had been tied around Sunny, making it seem like he was simply a bit overweight. They’d managed to scrape together a fake beard out of some more clothes from the trashbag, while Lilac had also put on a large lab coat, barely covering her long black dress. Her bun was holding, thankfully, and she’d also thrown on a surgical mask from a discarded box; they were apparently too small for regular doctors.

“Sunny,” Lilac whispered as they turned down a bend, “How you feeling?”

“Claustrophobic.” they could hear Sunny say from beneath the coat.

“We’ll be out soon.” Klaus said. “We just need to find where he’s keeping Violet.”

“I’m pretty sure he’s still at the hospital, because he wouldn’t leave without…” Lilac shut her eyes. “Without dealing with us. But she could be anywhere.”

That was when the intercom turned on.

“Attention! Attention!” came Count Olaf’s voice from the speaker; the Baudelaires were disgusted to hear he sounded joyous, giggling between every other word. “Today is a very important day in the history of Heimlich Hospital! In precisely one hour, a doctor here will perform the world’s first cranioectomy on a fourteen-year-old girl. We all hope this very dangerous operation is a complete success, and nothing goes wrong! That is all.”

They heard some more laughter, and then Esme’s voice. “Darling, you forgot to turn the microphone off.”

The intercom buzzed out, and Lilac said, her voice shaking, “Klaus, what’s a cranioectomy?”

Klaus narrowed his eyes. “Well, cranio means head, and ectomy is a medical term for removing something.”

Lilac paled. “Klaus…”

“Decap?” Sunny asked from beneath the coat, meaning something like, “Are they going to cut off Violet’s head?”

“Son of a bitch…” Klaus muttered. He looked up towards the vents, hoping his other siblings were there, just being quiet in case someone came down the hall. “We’ve got to find her right away.”

“If she’s going in for surgery,” Lilac said, narrowing her eyes and trying to keep calm, “He’ll have her disguised as a patient.”

“And Hal said this hospital runs on paperwork.” Klaus said. “So she should be listed somewhere. Where would we find a patient list?”

Then they heard a chorus of song down the next hallway.

“We sing and sing all night and day, And then we sing some more. We sing to boys with broken bones And girls whose throats are sore!”

Lilac and Klaus shared a look, and then Klaus said, “I have an idea. Follow my lead.”

She nodded, and Klaus grabbed her hand and dragged her down the hall.

They could see the Volunteers Fighting Disease ducking into a room, and the two children waited outside a moment.

“Excuse me?” said a patient from inside. “I was supposed to get painkillers this morning, but the nurse never arrived.”

“Oh, silly, we don’t have any of those!” said the bearded man. “But we have balloons!”

Klaus and Lilac shared a skeptical look, and then they heard more singing as the Volunteers started to exit.

“Tra la le, fiddle dee dee, Hope you get well soon. Ho ho ho, hee hee hee, Have a heart-shaped balloon!”

The bearded man exited last, with a clipboard in hands. “Excuse me!” Klaus called, dropping into a thick british accent. “Sir!”

The bearded man turned around, still grinning. “Why, hello brother!”

“Hello… brother.” Klaus said. “My name is Dr Faustus, and this is my assistant…”

“Doctor Howser.” Lilac said in an austrailian accent, thinking very fast. “We’re going to perform surgery soon.”

“Yes,” Klaus said, “But we seem to have lost our patient list.”

“Which we need.” Lilac said. “Seeing as we need to find our patient before we can perform surgery.”

“And after surgery, our patient can get balloons.” Klaus added.

“Well,” the bearded man shrugged, “I hate reading the names of patients anyway. Here you go!”

“Thank you very much, brother.” Lilac said, taking the list.

“Love to be of service!” said the man, and then he marched off with the other Volunteers, still singing.

“Glad we don’t have to stick around them much longer.” Lilac muttered.

“Since when could you do an Austrailian accent?”

“You don’t know everything about me.” Lilac scanned the list. “Nick, Soli, we’re finding a storage closet to duck into. We need to figure out where our sister is.”

As soon as they shut the closet door, Klaus took off the lab coat and beard, and Lilac also tossed her coat aside before helping Klaus get Sunny to the floor. A vent broke open, and Nick jumped down, catching Solitude and Babbitt as they leapt after him.

“There are hundreds of names on this list, and it’s organized by ward, not name.” Lilac said, slamming it onto the table. “Everyone take a stack.”

“Do you think anyone will find us in here?” Nick asked nervously, looking around the cramped closet with a very uncomfortable expression.

Sunny glanced around the room, taking inventory of the boxes of rubber bands, cans of alphabet soup and low, dirty-looking sinks. “Pesh,” she shrugged, which meant, “Not until somebody needs rubber bands, alphabet soup, or clean hands.”

Nick took a stack of paper, passing one to Solitude, who didn’t know much about reading but knew what Violet’s name looked like. Lilac and Klaus each took a stack, but after several minutes of panicked flipping, they found nothing.

“She’s not here.” Lilac looked about ready to cry. “She’s not here.”

“Alias!” Solitude suggested.

“Soli’s right.” Nick said. “She could have a fake name.”

“That’d make sense.” Klaus said. “He’s using a fake name, why wouldn’t he use one for her?”

“But which name is hers?” Lilac asked.

Nick stared down at the paper. “Anagram.” he said.

“What?” Lilac said.

“Anagram!” he said. He grabbed a can of alphabet soup and tossed it to Sunny. “Sunny, bite!”

Sunny nodded and bit open the can, and Nick took it and ran to the sink, pouring it down the drain.

“Pietrisycamollaviadelrechiotemexity.” said Solitude, dumbfounded.

“Nick, sweetie,” Lilac said, very worriedly, “What are you doing?”

Nick reached into the sink, pulling out specific noodles. “Finding Violet.”

“How?” Klaus asked.

“He’s using an anagram, dumbass!” Nick said. “Al Funcoot = Anagram. Al Funcoot is… is his name with the letters mixed up. If he wanted to hide Violet, but didn’t want to forget where she was, he’d disguise her with an anagram.”

He dumped several noodles on the table and said, “These letters make up Violet’s name. We need to find a name that has these letters.”

“Which ward would she be in?” Klaus asked, immediately grabbing the papers.

“I have the surgical ward.” Lilac said, slamming a paper on the table. “If he’s disguising her cranioectomy as a surgery, he’d have her there, right?”

Klaus scanned the list of names, as Solitude and Sunny climbed onto a chair beside the table. “All of these names could be anagrams.”

Sunny picked up a V noodle and showed it to him.

“Sunny’s right,” Lilac said, “Ignore any names that don’t have a V.”

Klaus nodded, grabbing a pencil and crossing out names. “Alright,” he said, putting the paper back, “Help me try to spell these names.”

The Baudelaires mixed up the noodles, trying to find a name that matched. And after a few panicked minutes, Nick said, “Found her. Laura V Bleediotie.”

“Room 922 of the Surgical Ward.” Lilac read.

“We’ll need to get our doctors’ uniforms back on.” Klaus said. “Nick, Soli, back in the vents.”

Nick flinched a little, but nodded and picked up Solitude, who held out her hands for Babbitt. “Will you be okay?”

“Just follow us.” Lilac said. “Once we’ve got Violet, get out of the vents, we’ll get her out, and then we run.”

#asoue #asoue movie #asoue netflix #a series of unfortunate events #six baudelaires au #six baudelaires official fic #the hostile hospital #mine #my fanfic

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kat-hawke · 5 years

Text

Opportune Moments

The constant barrage of medical exams and evaluations began tiresome. Now more of an annoyance, repeating some tests, as if they were searching for a reason to keep her from fully returning to active duty. Growing restless in the waiting after the most recent set of tests, the Director waits until the sun touches the horizon before making her move. Tucking the large envelope into the inner coat pocket she takes to the lower levels of Boralus, finding the waterways easier to navigate than the cobblestone streets above, along with less foot traffic to impede her.

The boardwalk rounded a corner, the faint sounds of water lapping against timeworn posts competing with the sound of her boots agains the boards. A sudden halt brought on by a folded note, carefully placed on the planks in her direct path. Ambers scanned the immediate area, knowing it was intentional and know aware she was being watched. With lips pursed in a scowl, knees bent to lower her body, fingers quickly snatching the paper and folding it open.

‘Hope you’re enjoying Boralus. Plenty of places to push a girl into the water, after all. Talk soon?’

No signature, none was needed. “Sure, luv’. Soon.” The page was quickly folded over in her fingers before it was discarded into the water with a flick of the wrist. Continuing on her way, the pace starting out slow and cautious before picking up again. How she managed to get into the City was one question, why was another. The elf either here to settle up on the bounty the Director’s head carried, or an attempt to lure her into something else. More concerning was just how the assassin tracked her down, having never disclosed her identity in their brief meeting before the war.

I didn’t take long before the lithe figure slipped from the shadows behind the Director, watching her reaction from finding the letter with a sly smirk. Trailing behind at a respectable distance, aware that it wouldn’t take long for Kat to realize she wasn’t alone, Vynette called out, folding her arms across the chest.

"You could really teach a class on dropping off the radar, you know. I almost started to believe the rumors of your demise, Miss Hawke."

Freezing mid step, Kat cast her gaze back over the shoulder with a brow arched inquisitively. The voice was unfamiliar and to her surprise she found no Sin’dorei, but a blonde haired Quel’dorei. Equal parts skeptical and paranoid the conclusion that it was either an illusion or an associate of who she was expecting. Inquiring further before taking any action.

"Hard to teach a class on gettin' held prisoner at sea." The words fell cold, features displaying the full level at which she was unamused. "Do I know ya'?"

"I suppose I'm drier thank you remember. Oh, and my eyes are blue now, so I suppose I should forgive you for forgetting me. Though it was a good kiss," Vyn pointed out, tossing the flat stone she palmed across the surface of the water. "Now that I think about it, I think I technically have a contract to kill you. Damnedest thing though; there seems to be no trace of my employer, so I suppose you luck out there."

That was the confirmation needed, the Quel’dorei merely an illusion.

Without missing a beat the Director had blinked through the shadows and had the elven woman pinned to the wall along the other side of the boardwalk. A dagger drawn within a second from the shadows and the blade pressed firmly against the woman's throat. Kat's left eye glazed over in a void-purple hue, a clear indication that the unnatural speed of her reflexes had a magical aid. Her gaze narrowed harshly and her tone dropped low, nearly a primal growl. "Ya' have thirty seconds to explain yer business here before I open yer throat like a gutted fish. Whether or no' I believe ya' will be seen. I lost friends in both Teldrassil and Lordaeron, ya' monsters don' deserve any mercy after that."

Teeth bared in a grunt, yet Vynette managed to forced herself to remain composed, despite the steel pressed against her throat.

"Okay, okay. No foreplay, straight to business," She grumbled, Kat’s gaze narrowing and the blade twisting just enough to shave the top layer of skin. "Alright! You're not the only one who's suffered an upheaval lately. I'm still looking into the who and how, but I was framed for being an Alliance spy. Every source I have says I'm kill on sight."

Vyn considered trying to slip away from Kat or get herself out of her compromising position, but showing her competency seemed less important at the moment than proving she was not a threat or an enemy. "It's a dangerous world to be in the Horde's crosshairs right now without protection. I've never been a Horde loyalist. I'm a pragmatist. If I'm already accused of being an Alliance spy, it seems smarter to find a role as one. The only place more dangerous than being on one side is being between both."

Meeting the Director’s gaze, Vyn did not shy away from the deep void hue that stared back at her. She was an assassin; she knew the shadows well enough not to fear them. "In my research for the previously mentioned hit job, you seemed like the kind of woman who could value a useful resource. Also, sun and stars, you're strong."

"Get kicked to the curb fer no' bein' loyal, so try yer luck on the other side an' hope the same doesn' happen. No' loyal before, why would ya' be now?" Kat stepped further in, applying pressure against the woman pinned to the masonry. "Keep jumpin' the fence an' ya'll eventually get impaled upon it. Perhaps it's better fer ya' that ya' didn' fully pursue said contract, wouldn' have ended well."

"It was a suspicious contract anyway," Vyn dismissed, her breathing controlled to minimize any contact with Kat's blade. "I'm not loyal to factions, that's fair enough. I can be loyal to people."

That seemed to catch the Director’s attention, loyalty to people over a cause or faction.

Vyn's blue eyes dropped, meeting the planks below their feet. "I am my work. I had two lives and one of those is fucked now. All I am now is an asset looking for use. I don't question orders and I don't have qualms with what I'm told to do. You could kill me and the world has one less elf, and good for you. Your files suggest you're more practical than that. It's an offer worth at least considering, isn't it?"

The Director's gaze searched the blue hues of the illusioned woman, remaining narrowed in both suspicion and caution, refusing to move or let Vynette free. "Ya' claim to be loyal to people, yet where is the evidence of such?"

"My employers," Vyn replied immediately, shifting her gaze upward to lock with Kat’s. "I've never given them up. I've never turned on them. I've never compromised my ability to perform a job. I had people I worked with consistently. I'm never going to bite the hand that feeds me."

"And wot of them now?"

"One wants me dead. One I'm amicable with. I have no intentions of giving up either; that's part of my own contract I keep til I die." The assassin sighed, feel a rare and raw sense of loss.

A low hum rolled in the back of the Director's throat as she considered Vynette's words and proposition. "Consider them all dead, fer yer own sake." The words were spoken dry as the finger around the hilt of the dagger released, the weapon vanishing in a dark and thick cloud of shadows. Backing away, she freeing the woman from the vice like pin against the wall, arms crossing beneath her bust as weight was shifted to one leg. The left eye returned to it's amber tone but the death like glare remained. "I'll need a reason to trust ya', yer only gettin' one chance. Don' fuck it up." Turning as she spoke, the Kat carried on in her initial path.

Vyn let out a breath of relief, glad to have finished her conversation without a new battle wound. She raised a hand to the faint slice on her throat with a nod. "Don't intend to, ma'am." She assumed she'd get more details eventually; for now, she would not press the issue.

Amber hues glanced back over her shoulder. "Ya' were intended to follow..." Her tone indicating clear annoyance, though gait remained unchanged.

"Oh. Duh. Right." Vyn took hastened steps to fall back in line with Kat as she walked.

"Hopefully ya' read a target better than a situation." She mumbled. "Just so happens a have yer one chance now." A bare hand slipped down to retrieve the envelope from pocket within the coat, holding it up between two fingers at the woman. "Don' read it, don' open it."

Taking the offered item in one hand Vynette further inquired. "Not reading it, not opening it. What do you need me to do with it, ma'am?"

"Switch it out." She stated, bluntly. Stopping their path at the bottom of a flight of stairs, Kat nodded upward. "Second buildin' on the right. One yet switchin' with will be on the third floor, either on or in a desk of the main physicians office."

Ambers quickly returned, pinning the elf beneath her gaze. "Don' fuck it up."

Vyn glanced at the envelope, carefully storing it so it remained unbent. “On it, boss.”

Second building on the right, third floor, unless Vyn misheard due to the director’s accent. She would have to get used to that. After assessing the buildings, she slipped into the alleyway between the third and fourth buildings to the left. The area around her target building was too well lit and visible for her liking. The alleyway she chose was dark, dank, and the wall fixtures on the third building were better for climbing.

And climb she did, carefully moving from handhold to foothold until she made it to the shingled roof of the building, looking out at her target. She pulled up her hood and the mask she liked to wear beneath it, scanning the windows. One open window on the fourth floor. Not ideal, but it would do. Taking a steadying breath, Vyn got a running start on the roof, leaping and vanishing into a puff of smoke as she slipped into the shadows. Given her namesake, it only made sense she was familiar with the shadow magic of her craft.

With a quiet tumble, Vyn was in an abandoned office on the fourth floor. She moved to the door and pressed her ear to it. No sounds from the hallway and nothing causing the floorboards to shake. Silently, she opened the door and slipped into the hall, looking for a staircase.

Vyn left the stairwell and entered the third floor just in time to hear footsteps approaching. Jumping up, she braced herself against the walls of the narrow hallway to remain overhead, slipping into stealth, holding her breath as guards walked through the hall, under her, and into the stairwell. When she was certain the coast was clear, she fell silently to the floor and made a beeline for the room Kat directed her to find.

Sure enough, when she determined which room was the office of the main physician, there was an envelope sitting squarely on the desk in front of the chair. Nothing seemed to be a trap, but she still handled the envelope cautiously as she replaced it. With the swap complete and with the faint reverberations of footfalls returning to the floor, Vyn opened the window and slipped out. Hanging from the ledge, she closed the window, just as she found it, and fell to the ground below.

Vyn gave herself three minutes to ensure there was no alarm sounded or ruckus caused by her appearance, and once she was clear, she found Kat and handed her the physician’s envelope. She had no clue what was in the envelope, but that did not matter. “Done and done, ma’am.”

With a deep hum of moderate approval, the Director took the envelope from the woman, quickly stashing it away into the lining of her pocket after ensuring it had remained sealed.

"Well done. I'll be in touch. Don' go far." She spoke flat, with the faintest hint of a smile on her lips. Pivoting on one leg Kat took her leave towards to center of Boralus, her gait quick and with purpose.

[ @lovelydeadlysocialite ]

#ic #plotlines #Returning from the Dead #Operative Mistcaller #blades & button-ups #slight revisions from discord

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starr-fall-knight-rise · 4 years

Text

Humans are Space Orcs, “Exo-skeleton.”

Didn’t have a lot of time this morning, but I wanted to continue with my series on the Drev war. I hope you guys enjoy learning a little more background on exactly what operation stee-eye was

The rundi chairwoman stood outside the triage tent watching little flakes of ash as they drifted down from the darkened sky above them. Two human bodyguards stood at her back staring into the darkness with her, their predatory human eyes wide with intent, the little black pupils in their eyes reacting to the shifting light.

She knew something was up when the humans suddenly turned their heads to the side staring off into the ash. Their bodies had gone tense, and their hands were tight around their weapons, though they did not raise them assuming that anything that tried to get into camp unwanted would be rebuffed by the perimeter guards. Nervously, she shifted in place wondering what it is the humans could know that she didn’t. They stared out intently at the falling ash shifting back and forth on two legs as if they were warming themselves up for something.

It was almost a good minute later before she was able to detect what they had heard. It was a distant rumbling sound rising slowly through the thick silence of the falling ash with an undertone of a high pitched wine. Upon hearing it more closely, the humans relaxed somewhat, though the Rundi chairwoman couldn’t have determined what it was.

That was until a set of light cut through the ash, and the humans moved to stand in front of her. She peered around their backs as the five large vehicles came rolling to a stop their engines still roaring. She could tell they were human simply based on the sound they made. No other alien technology sounded like that. And with the drab green/grey color, like the tents and the uniforms which the soldiers wore, it was pretty clear who they had been sent by.

Powerful beams of light at the front of the vehicles highlighted great swaths of falling ash which coated the ground and plunged the entire landscape into darkness. The doors to the side of the trucks opened, and a group of humans filed out into the ash. They were wearing clean olive uniforms that were quickly marred by the falling ash. In their hands, they were holding large metal boxes with strange red and white symbols on them.

“Move, move, move, every second counts people, get in there and get to work. If you ever forget what you are doing let me remind you WE ARE WINNING THE WAR.” THe rundi chairwoman shifted and turned her heard towards the booming voice, finding a short squat female human at the front of the trucks, wearing the grey uniform her hands on her hips as se lorded over her human companions.

In response to her words, the humans sped up marching with each other in formation towards the triage tent.

A familiar face appeared for the ash, and the admiral came up next to the woman making quick conversation nodding towards the tent and then gesturing wildly with his hands. The rundi chairwoman could not hear what they were saying from here, but whatever it was, it had both of them very excited. He made a motion towards the Rundi chairwoman, before both moving to join her and her guards amidst the falling ash.

“Chairwoman, meet Colonel Price, overseer of operation Steel eye.”

The Chairwoman looked between them confused, “Steel eye? What is that.”

“That is what is going to win us the war.” He announced proudly

She looked on skeptical, “Not to question you or anything, but the drev have proven themselves to be more difficult to defeat than we first intended. What makes you so sure that this is going to change anything.”

The human didn’t seem bothered by her question but allowed his grin to grow wider. The two humans exchanged a glance, and she was motioned to follow them as they made their way back towards the triage tent.

“Our biggest problem during this war was to assume the Drev were more primitive than they actually are. Surely, we said to ourselves, they use spears and plate armor, how dangerous can they be. But of course we failed to remember that the Drev have made their way to space, and most of what they do is heavily based in tradition than it is in actual ability. We quickly lost ground, and the Drev war practice focuses on maiming the opponent rather than killing them outright. This works as an effective tool. Suddenly we have hundreds of wounded soldiers, and no way to take care of them. This puts a great burden on our camp, and the people in it. We have to move them, take care of them, and our resources are being eaten up quickly. They are intentionally drowning us in our own wounded. It turns out we may have as many wounded as we do living….. But what if I old you we could bring our wounded back into the game, stronger and better than before.”

The rundi chair woman looked on skeptically as they stepped into the tent gearing themselves up in the clean suits watching as the strange soldiers with their strange boxes headed through the flaps and into the back of the tent.

“And how do you expect to do that.”

The Admiral turned to look at the Colonel this time, whose expression remained very serious, “These men and women have agreed to undergo an experimental procedure that will give them the upper hand in close combat, They are going to head the final spearhead into the Drev line.”

The rundi chairwoman still didn’t understand entirely what was going on, but she let it continue listening skeptically barely aware that she was returning back into that horrible place.

***

Lieutenant Adam Vir was pulled from his pain induced haze by the sudden swelling of voices. He tried to relax, tried not to fight against the horrific throbbing pain. The more he was tense, the worse the pain got, it was easier just to relax and let the feeling consume him until there was nothing left but a blank haze.

Even focused as he was, the lights above would not go into focus. He could feel the mat at his back, and the uniform rolled into a pillow under his head. He tried not to think about the throbbing in his leg…. Or the throbbing where his leg was now absent. Thinking about it made the pain grow worse, and tears sprung quickly to his eyes. He moaned in agony cursing himself for focusing, for choosing to crawl out of the safe darkness of his suffering.

“Start form the back and move up, the ones in the back have been here longer.”

He cracked an eye immediately blinded by the light, shut his eyes and tried to open them again. A shadow fell over his face, and he looked up. A hazy face came into view behind a hazmat mask. He tried to comprehend what he was seeing, but another wave of pain brought him back to his pain. He felt his body constrict in response to it, his spine arching painfully.

Another moan escaped his lips wet with saliva and distorted by his clenched diaphragm.

“Shh, you’ll be alright. Someone muttered softly, “We brought you a present.”

The sentence was so strange that it momentarily distracted him.

He cracked an eye Just in time to see a hazy clear back full of fluid.

“IV painkillers.”

He nearly cried in relief… well actually he did, cry in relief that is. He was in so much pain he didn’t care. Someone was rolling up the sleeve on one of his arms cold gloves against his hot skin.

“Morphine?”

“Are you kidding me, that’s for later. We start with straight Fentanyl.” He barely felt the prick of the needle. Compared to the pain of his leg it was nothing, not even worth thinking about. Of course within the next few minutes, thinking no longer became an issue.

IT started as a slow spreading of warmth through his body, a warm drowsiness that seemed to seep honey sunlight through his veins sweet with relief. When it hit him he gasped, the ache in his missing leg fell away. Tears leaked down his face as he was overwhelmed with a relief and happiness so profound he doubted he would ever, or had ever felt such a sensation. He felt as if he was floating away carried by the relief, the sweet sweet release from pain.

The light above him grew hazy growing up in his vision and overwhelming his senses.

He didn’t feel himself falling away.

Didn’t feel his body relax.

He felt simply a warm drowsiness spreading through his limbs, finally allowing him to sleep.

***

The rundi chairwoman watched with great discomfort as the humans worked. LIttle needles attached to tubes were being placed subdermally upon the humans. Thankfully the groaning and moaning of agony had died away. Humans once writhing in agony were now still, their heads rolled to the side in peaceful slumber or catatonic euphoria.

“What did you do.” “They’ve been giving painkillers.”

“Painkillers/”

“Yes, they block pain signals to the brain by mimicking the endogenous painkillers found in the human body accept 1000 times more powerful. At the back of the room, two of the medics were unwinding the bandages of the young man which the rundi chairwoman was acquainted. She had to look away in disgust as the wound was uncovered feeling sick.

A few other humans were injecting more drugs down the tube and into his system.

The admiral walked forward, “Well?”

The two medics looked up, “Surprisingly good sir, we can definitely work with this.”

Good, “Get him loaded up.”

The rundi watched as the humans moved the unconscious body onto a backboard, picked him up and began carrying him down the line of unconscious bodies. They passed by and she was stunned by the strangely peaceful look on the human’s face. They were brought out to follow as one of the large trucks was backed up to the tent opening in order to avoid contamination from the ash.

When the doors were opened, she was nearly blinded by the white sterility inside, and hardly understood what she was seeing. There were a lot of machines and equipment. There was some sort of chair placed under many lights, and at least three humans dressed in strange green clothing, their faces covered, and their eyes shielded by clear glasses.

The human was hauled up into the back and transferred to the chair.

Then her eyes fell on something hanging at the back of the truck, “What is that.” I appeared to be some sort of large metal skeleton, or at least something similar.”

“That, is project steeleye.”

***

The young man was a mess, covered in grime and blood. It was a wonder that he wasn’t being affected by gangrene or something worse. Even so, there were signs of a beginning infection, and the wound was beginning to heal rather poorly. They first had to take the time and clean him up as best they could cut away the soiled clothes, washing and sterilizing the skin with what must have been gallons of the stuff.They then placed a breathing tube, a pulseox, ekg, catheter and whatever else would be required for this daring, and probably insane surger.

They would go ahead and start with the leg, as it was the most important part of this procedure. It was the only reason they were going to be able to use the Exo-armor. The human body was not capable of supporting or sustaining the piece of military hardware, but the leg would act as both a battery pack and support for the rest of the frame that would then be attached to the skeletal structure.

They began by sawing off the very base layer of the severed stump where they found bright pink tissue and oozing red blood, all healthy. They followed that by placing a plate just under the skin before sewing it back up. The plate was meant to integrate with the technology of the leg, technology which would allow the young man to feel pressure, heat, cold and the leg’s location in space. It was the most advanced piece of prosthetic technology ever invented, and was so expensive it may as well have been priceless.

The leg was brought to them in a sterilized package opened and then attached to the leg as immediately as possible.

That done, they flipped the subject onto his front spreading his arms out to one side and placing his face downwards. A mechanical crane on the top of the vehicle was used to maneuver the exo-armor into place.

This was the dangerous part.

Though the leg would be what primarily supported the skeleton, it still had to be attached directly to the spine. It wasn’t just supposed to move in response to movements, it was supposed to move in response to the brain. There was a very high likelihood of both paralysis and bacterial meningitis as a result of their tampering.

They began with the spine, cutting inwards and then lowering the exo-seleton gently onto the back inserting the little probes and allowing them to auto-attach.

They then did the same thing with the legs and the arms finishing with the forearms and fingers.

It was a strange apparatus appearing greatly alien, but once it was fitted with metal plates. It would act as both armor, and increase strength and speed by an estimation greater than 50%.

Only time would tell if any of the subjects would survive

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