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libraryofgage · 9 months

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Prompt 31 of this OTP prompt list! I've got ideas for quite a few of them, but if there's one you're particularly eager to see, just lemme know ^_^ I wanna try to write a little Steddie everyday, whether that's a ficlet here or working on the Modern Steve in 80s Hawkins WIP lol

Prompt: “Why’d you— why’d you do that?” “B-Because I promised you I’d do anything to keep you safe.”

---

When Steve had realized they were really going after Vecna this time, about to walk into his lair and fuck him up, he'd made a promise to himself. He was going to do everything in his power to keep everyone safe, especially Eddie and Dustin, especially when their final plan made those two the demobat distraction.

Steve has also learned over his past few Upside Down adventures to trust his gut. Going through some life-threatening scenarios tends to strengthen his intuition for danger and general Bad Events. So, when he's following Nancy and Robin to the Creel house and feels a horrible stirring in his stomach (something beyond anxiety and fear and stale bread sitting wrong), he stops.

"I'm going back," he says.

"What?" Nancy asks, spinning on her heel.

Robin, meanwhile, meets his gaze. A silent conversation passes between them through looks and half-gestures and a singular grunt from Robin at the end. Their entire conversation can be boiled down to, simply, "I've got a bad feeling."

Interestingly, going through Russian torture together makes people trust each other's bad feelings.

"Okay," Robin says, nodding once before looking at Nancy. "It's not like we need him anyway. I think we're pretty kick-ass on our own."

"But the plan," Nancy protests, her brows furrowing as Steve realizes she's more upset over the change in plan than she is his leaving them.

Steve places a hand on her shoulder, smiles reassuringly, and says, "Don't worry, Nance. You'll kick Creel's ass, I'll make sure Thing One and Thing Two don't get themselves killed, and we'll all go out for pizza when this is over."

Nancy stares at him for a few seconds before sighing. "Okay. Don't die."

"Wasn't planning on it."

Steve can see the trailer before he gets to it, and he can see the demobats creating a fucked up storm cloud as they stream off in one direction, and he can't hear any of the music that should be playing. The demobats seem determined to reach something that's running away, and Steve gets a sinking feeling in his chest.

He knows it isn't Dustin. Eddie wouldn't let Dustin put himself in danger like that unless it was over his dead body, and there's no way Dustin would let Eddie die unless he happened to be out of sight. Which it seems he is now, and Steve knows things must have Gone Bad to get to this point.

Steve shoots across the Upside Down, racing to reach the demobat swarm. Their screeching fills his ears, echoing and bouncing around his head as he gets closer, and he can start to hear Eddie screaming, too. The words are muffled and covered by the demobats, but he has no doubt Eddie is calling them some insulting name and embracing his Ozzie Moment.

When he's a few feet away from the edge of the swarm, Steve starts swinging with reckless abandon. He takes out demobats as quickly as he can, trying to ignore the grime and viscera that layers on top of itself and his skin as he goes. The demobats get more than a few bites in, and more than a few tails lash at his ankles and wrists and whatever else they can find, but Eddie's screams that grow increasingly more terrified spur Steve on.

After an eternity of faceless bats and black blood and his arms screaming from the exertion of constantly swinging his bat, Steve finally gets to the center of the storm. In the eye, he finds Eddie on the ground, a tail wrapped around his neck and demobats descending on his sides, and Steve sees red.

He doesn't actually process any of his actions. He only knows that one second he's watching Eddie become a demobat main course, and the next he's standing over Eddie, decapitating demobats, yanking them away, slamming them into the ground, swinging his bat at the ones that dare to get closer.

Adrenaline and desperation are the only things keeping Steve going for what could be seconds or hours or days; he really can't tell. His focus has tunneled to only allow his brain to think about protecting Eddie and killing flying demon rats. Even when he hears Eddie screaming his name and grabbing his leg, Steve can't spare a moment to think about him beyond "Eddie would be easier to protect if he didn't move around."

Steve doesn't kill the entire swarm. There are too many, and he's only one man. But he does hold them off until...until something calls them away. One second he's feeling overwhelmed--his heart beating out of his chest and his vision blurring red from the blood dripping down his forehead--and the next, the demobats are screeching one last time before shooting off into the sky.

He would pay attention to where they go, but Steve can only take long enough to confirm that they're gone before he's collapsing. He doesn't hit the ground. Instead, Steve hits Eddie, who had stood up at some point only to fall to his ass once more from Steve's unexpected weight.

Holy fuck, Steve just wants to nap. And he's halfway to closing his eyes and slipping into sweet, sweet oblivion when he hears Eddie, his voice absolutely wrecked from screaming and brimming with some emotion Steve can't place right now, ask him, "Why'd you---why'd you do that?! You could have died!"

"So could you," Steve manages, forcing his eyes to focus long enough on Eddie to realize he's literally being cradled in the guy's arms right now. It's surprisingly comfortable, and he can hear Eddie's rapid heartbeat from this position. "Besides, I promised to keep you safe."

"No, you didn't!" Eddie squawks, and Steve makes a mental note to mock him for it later. "I would've remembered that, Steve!"

Steve huffs a weak laugh, stifles a yawn, and lets his head fall onto Eddie's shoulder. He'll think about Eddie not calling him by some ridiculous nickname later. "To myself. Promised to keep everyone safe. 'specially you, Eds," he says, flashing a faint smile that's probably only more worrying because of the blood staining his teeth.

Eddie looks ready to say more, but Steve weakly and clumsily covers his mouth. "Just so you know, I'm passing out now," he says, his body and brain finally calling it a day once he gets the warning out.

Later, when he wakes up in the hospital, Steve will have to deal with several lectures from several people about how he shouldn't have been so reckless. He'll get to turn it around later by pointing out that Eddie would have definitely died without him.

Steve will also have to deal with Eddie staying behind and shooting him the saddest puppy-eye pout he's ever seen. It will devolve into an argument about how Steve would do it again, how Eddie didn't enjoy thinking he was dead, and how they both think the other is incredibly stupid. That argument will end with a spur-of-the-moment and intense kiss that's interrupted by Steve's heart monitor going out of control, leaving them both blushing and overwhelmed as a nurse rushes in and...and holding hands with tiny, amazed smiles as they stare at each other after the nurse leaves.

But that's all in the future. For now, Steve lets his eyes slip shut, comfortable in Eddie's arms and reasonably assured that Eddie won't go risking his life when he has to make sure Steve gets out safe.

#Steddie #Steddie fic #Steve Harrington #Eddie Munson #Stranger Things #Robin Buckley #Nancy Wheeler #My writing #this was so much longer than I intended hfjdks #one day i'll be able to write something short #not fucking today tho I guess #prompt list

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jadeylovesmarvelxo · 6 months

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🖤

Hi! I am one of your followers and I love reading you. How about a story where Steve talks behind the reader's back, saying something about how she's very clingy and that he's not used to that. But he mentions it without realizing the damage, but later he apologizes. Or... something about a fight where hurtful things are said. These are just suggestions, whatever you write always seems wonderful to me <3. Sorry, English isn't my first language.

Story inspiration from @shelbycillian ♥️

Summary: You blurt out you love Steve at an awkward time and judging by his reaction you're worried he will never let you into his heart but maybe all hope is not lost.

Warnings: Angst to fluff. Minors dni, 18+

Don't copy, reuse, repost or translate my work.

♥️

Steve had found it hard to fully let someone in after Nancy left him.

Almost two years to the day and he was still cautious about who to let into his heart.

You and Steve had been seeing each other casually for a while now and you couldn't help but fall for him.

The elephant in the room was Nancy and Steve's reluctance to himself fall for someone again.

You had been content to just be in a casual relationship with him for a while but inevitably feelings formed and now you were left wondering where you stood regarding how Steve felt about you.

Did he still love Nancy? You saw how he was with her in The Upside Down, he said its always been her for him.

Your heart sinks. That was months ago and he hadn't said anything else about it. You doubted very much that the feelings had just went away.

Steve caresses your cheek as he lays beside you, his naked body entwined with yours.

"Come back to me honey you were miles away" You smile and kiss him pulling him closer and losing yourself in him.

The sex is more intense, everything feels heightened as Steve thrusts into you at a relentless pace.

"You feel so fucking good honey, so tight" his lips are all over your body, your back arches in pleasure as you and Steve both orgasm hard leaving you both moaning and exchanging lazy kisses.

Your heart feels so full, you stroke Steve's hair as he burys his head into your shoulder still moaning quietly.

"I love you Steve" You murmur and he stiffens as you say this. He gets up and moves away from you so fast that it stuns you.

"Steve?" You're aware he hasn't said it back and any hope you had that he might feel the same fades away fast.

"Uh I have to go" he runs his hand through his hair and you swallow rushing to get dressed.

"Do you not feel the same? I mean if we're on totally different wavelengths..." he looks at loss for words and your heartache deepens.

He doesn't love you.

"Sweetheart. I..." you get up not wanting to listen to his rejection. Tryjng extremely hard to not cry.

"I'm so stupid... I thought maybe you were not over Nancy but that's not true" You feel sick and his expression turns anguished.

"It's not like that honey" You shake your head and attempt to find your bag.

"It isn't? It's always been Nancy you said that yourself in the Upside Down. I thought because it was months ago maybe things might be different but it's not"

His expression swiftly turns annoyed and he holds his hands up.

"You're not listening to a word I say so what's the fucking point?" You're both angry now and the tension ramps up.

"I'm so sorry for falling in love with you. Why don't I just fucking stop?" you snap and he groans.

"Well do that then. Go and find someone who will give you what you want if that's obviously not me" What he says robs you off your next comeback and you fall silent.

"You want to end things? Fine, there's no point in me staying is there?"

You get up and storm out of Steve's house feeling stupid, tears running down your cheeks and the agony at fighting with Steve tearing you apart.

❤️

Steve is at the party and truthfully you didn't expect to see him here and you weren't prepared for it.

It's been two days since you've spoken and you don't know what to say to him. We're you really over?

Robin gives you a small smile which you return even though your mind is racing.

Was he here to move on? Should you move on? Your heart aches at the possibility of this being over but maybe it's for the best?

You can't force him to be in love with you, that isn't right so maybe you should find someone on your wavelength?

Not right now but in a few months? When this heartache didn't feel so crushing.

The thought is depressing and you decide to get a drink.

The atmosphere is very lively and you're able to forget about Steve for a little while and just drink, dance and have fun.

The room slowly starts to get more blurry as the drinks you've consumed begin to take effect. You have a happy little buzz forming and you don't want to let go of it for the moment.

Steve is watching you. It's like you can sense it and feel hyperaware of your movements as you dance, his eyes follow you all the way around the room.

It doesn't go unnoticed by Steve the amount of guys he's seen throwing you appreciative glances. One in particular is to handsy for his liking and he seriously contemplates using his nail bat for a DIY castration.

You move away from the handsy guy shaking your head angrily. Just as well as Steve was two seconds away from beating the douchebags ass.

Stumbling outside you're eager for some air and run into Eddie. He's smoking a joint and offers it to you. Shaking your head you settle down beside him.

"What are you doing out here Ed's?" you ask him and he leans over smiling as if telling you a secret.

"Avoiding Cara. She's clingy as fuck" You roll your eyes amused. Cara was Eddie's girlfriend... Sort of. She was way way more into him than he was her.

"Eddie why don't you just let her down gently if you don't want to be with her?" you suggest and he snorts.

"Have you seen how scary she is when she's angry? Fuck... I will have to though, it's ruining my street cred as a ladies man" You giggle.

"Is that street cred all in your head?" you tease and he clutches his heart mock offended.

"You wound me sweetheart" the both of you are laughing so much that you don't even notice Steve watching you in the background until he clears his throat.

"Can we talk?" you turn around when you hear his voice and nod even though your heart is racing in your chest.

Was he going to end things for good?

"Okay" You reply quietly and wave goodbye to Eddie as Steve takes you to his car for privacy.

❤️

Steve is quiet as you settle in beside him. It's making you nervous at what he's going to say.

"Robin dragged me to the party tonight. Vickie is here, I just wish those two would date already" You grin and hope tonight is the night that something happens.

Very gently Steve's fingers entwine with yours and a wave of relief passes over you as you squeeze them back.

"I thought you were here to end things for good" You admit and his eyes fill with pain.

"I don't want that sweetheart. I've been kicking myself since you left. I didn't handle things very well"

Neither did you and you tell him that as you rest your head on his shoulder.

"Do you still love Nancy?" you dread the answer but you have to know. The wait for his answer has your nerves on edge and your fully prepared to hear him say yes.

His answer suprises you.

"Ive been over Nancy for a while now. I'm in love with you honey. I've just been so fucking nervous to say anything because I was left broken hearted before and I was scared of it happening again"

He loves you. He really does love you. Tenderly you cup his cheek and he leans into your touch closing his eyes.

"I'm not Nancy, I adore you Steve. You're all I want" he smiles and when he opens his eyes they are full of reverence.

"I just got scared of giving my heart to someone again to have it crushed. I'm still terrified but I love you so much and I want you to know that. I'm ready to take that leap with you"

Beaming you kiss him and he sighs contented.

"Let me pick up Robin and Munson, then we can have a movie night" You like the idea of this but before he goes you ask him a question very curious.

"Steve you weren't jealous of Eddie back there were you? It's just you were all glowery" he blushes and immediately denies it then gives a tiny fraction of a nod.

"Maybe a tiny bit. Never thought I'd get jealous of Eddie Munson but I did" you stifle a smile and settle back into the seat watching as he goes to get Eddie and Robin who's holding Vickies hand and smiling shyly.

Love was all around tonight.

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington angst #steve harrington x y/n #platonic eddie x reader

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sprout-writes-stuff · 2 months

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Inspired by @henderdads fic. A little thing that entered my brain fully formed and had to come out. (if I did anything wrong here let me know and I'll take it down)

It's not exactly what Steve thought he'd be doing on a friday night, he and Robin have their laptops open doing a personality quiz that the school heavily encouraged them to take.

He highly doubts a few questions (okay so there's at least 50, whatever) will tell him anything about himself that he didn't already know but Robin insisted they do it together. The part that actually interests Steve is they'll get a list of the ten people they're most compatible with, it'll even say whether that's in a romantic way or not. The last question asks about their preference (Men/Women/Any/None).

Early sunday morning Steve is lying in bed scrolling his emails and it's there! The results. He skims over all the stuff about him (he'll make a great parent someday, blah blah blah, maybe he'll read it properly later) until he finds the list. Unsurprisingly, Robin is at the top with 98.2% but the second... What? No way?

He video calls Robin immediately, it actually takes three tries to wake her up.

"Steve? It's," she looks up to the time on her phone, "7:18. Why? It's sunday."

"The email, Robin, it's here." He watches her face as she tries to understand what's happening, barely containing his amusement at that, and then waits as she checks hers.

"Aww we're compatible Stevie," she says with a silly, overly sweet smile, "like we didn't know that already. Who'd you get first with a heart?"

Steve now has his open on his laptop, staring at the little pink heart next the name second on his list.

"Steve?"

"It's... I mean, it can't be right."

"Why not? It got us didn't it?"

"It's Eddie Munson. 97.6%." The rest are all mid 80s or lower and might as well be zero for all Steve cares about them right now. Robin's jaw drops.

"He doesn't exactly seem the type to even take the quiz," she says, "you have to talk to him tomorrow."

"I don't know anything about him."

"Well you've got all the time in the world to find out."

He doesn't stop thinking about it for the rest of the day.

He sees Eddie's van pull into the parking lot and Robin pushes him towards it before the engine is even off.

"Can I talk to you?" he asks as soon as the door is open. "Privately?"

"Alright," Eddie says, confusion on his face as he follows Steve away from everyone else. "What's this about Harrington?"

"The quiz? The other night?" Did Eddie think Steve was just going to leave it?

"Oh, that's in already?" He digs his phone out of his pocket. He doesn't know.

Steve watches him read, getting more and more nervous as he gets closer to the end. Eddie looks up at him in shock. All Steve can do is nod.

"And the... heart? That's not a mistake?" He's kind of breathless.

"Huh?"

"Like, you could have accidentally checked men instead of women and that's what you came to tell me."

"Oh," Steve says with a giggle, "no, I'm bi."

The nervous energy from a few minutes ago is turning into bubbling excitement as they stare at each other, both with tentative, hopeful smiles.

"I don't know about you but I really wanna kiss you." Steve says, stepping closer. Eddie bridges the gap and their lips meet. Before they can get too into it, the school bell rings and they have to start heading to class.

"Can't believe we got each other at the top of our lists," Eddie says knocking his shoulder into Steve's.

"Hate to break it to you but you're number two on mine," Steve replies with a grin. Eddie stops walking for a few seconds and has to jog to catch up.

"Oh, of course, Buckley right?"

Steve nods, still grinning. "See you after class?" he asks when they get to his room.

"Definitely." Eddie kisses him again, a peck this time. Steve watches him leave and marvels at the fact a stupid piece of homework may have just changed his life forever.

#steddie #steddie ficlet #modern au #my writing

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stacotto · 11 months

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*Inhale for four, exhale for four* Alright, let's get into it.

Guess we'll just start at the start, Asticassia is far more wrecked than we could see at the end of episode 20, death count is probably in the scores if not hundreds, and the survivors are basically in a refugee camp. Earth House and Suletta out here doing their best to make everyone comfortable, which automatically makes them the GOAT house. Petra's alive...ish! Mio's President now, for whatever that's worth, Quinharbor is a bombed-out crater, and those slimy Peil crones somehow managed to once again pull the "we didn't know this unethical thing was being done right beneath our noses" card (even if they really didn't know until someone else told them, I wouldn't put it past them to want a piece of that pie). More on them later.

The meeting between Earth House, Guston, and Belmeria is a perfect example of what I like to see in an infodump; nothing is said that characters in the room should already know, everything is news to someone. I really really dig now Suletta handled relaying her nature as a clone, and maybe feeling a little smug that my headcanon that those flashes of Eri's memories of the Vanadis Incident really were a full memory share between the two. And of course, Suletta understanding that there is probably no reasoning with Prospera, but no unnecessary angst beyond that. I like it, it's refreshing. Also hot damn, we've been theorizing about a "Caliban" Gundam for months and this is not what any of us expected but I'm not complaining; it really is thematically appropriate that Prospera's creation would be piloting the machine named after Prospero's servant.

Now to the real spectacle of the episode: The Space Assembly League charging headfirst into something they should know could not possibly end well. To paraphrase what I've been saying about Quiet Zero ever since episode 16; "You may have your guns, but I control all the triggers". You literally cannot fight against it with any conventional weapon. The only way to fight against the QZ Data Storm network is with a Gundam of your own, and Sophie Pulone showed us exactly why even that is a toss-up. The more I think about it, the more I feel we're building up to a reveal that Suletta may have actually inherited her sister's affinity to the Data Storm, it just might need a little push to fully manifest.

Miorine really cannot catch a break here. She may be President, but that pales in comparison to the world falling apart around her. Quinharbor is in ruins. Her father is still in a coma. The League has popular support to dismantle the Group by force. It's really telling that Sarius is the one telling her "Look, I'll take the L on this, you keep the Group together" but she completely refuses to sacrifice anyone else, one of my favorite tropes when done well. It'll be interesting to see what her next move is.

Ah, Elan Ceres Number 5. Curious as to how he went from Ur's cockpit to sneaking around Asticassia but that's neither here nor there; he's finally given up the act (and genuinely apologized to Suletta, that was good) and is joining up with the heroes for the final act, which I appreciate. He says "no Gundam" which does pique my curiosity as to how he's going to contribute - Enhanced Persons are no doubt chosen by the Peil AI for piloting skill, so I doubt that he won't be piloting period - but I do get the distinct feeling that he's going to pay the CEOs and Elan Prime a visit...with bullets.

Welp, guess we know who's piloting the Schwarzette whenever that comes up now; Lauda about to follow in the infamous footsteps of one "Graze" Ein Dalton. I do kinda hope that someone can snap him out of it before it's too late; most likely candidate is probably Petra if she can wake up soon, given that A) He's definitely going to try and kill Miorine, so that knocks her out, B) there's no way he's going to listen to Guel after learning he's the one who killed Vim (even if it was by accident in self-defense), and C) Suletta is still the "Mercurian Wench who ruined everything" in his eyes. If he can't be reasoned with, Guel's probably going to have to kill him, I'll put my chips on that.

We in the endgame now.

#mobile suit gundam the witch from mercury #g-witch #g witch #suletta mercury #the witch from mercury #g-witch spoilers #miorine rembran #prospera mercury

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colorlesschristmastree · 2 months

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I hope I’m not being annoying but I just really need to rant about my hope that SJM puts feyre in a more prominent role in the next ACOTAR book. I thought her page time was a bit disappointing but not terrible in ACOSF (I mean, ideally I want her on every page. But seeing as that book was all Nesta Nesta Nesta and hardly any Cassian even…and with how bad a book it was, I’m fine with her staying away from whatever that was). But I was heartbroken over the fact she wasn’t in HOFAS at all!? After SJM teased her being there!? I mean, I get it wasn’t a big crossover and Nesta and Azriel were the highlights. But I can’t help but feel embarrassingly bitter that Nesta was highlighted so much in ACOWAR to the point it took away a bit from Feyre’s finale; Nesta was also the topic of conversation in ACOFAS and was at least a quarter of what Feyre-and other characters-were thinking about the whole book. Then the whole of ACOSF she had a terrible arc and her head is a nasty place to be, she was horrible to feyre the whole book and had that cheap ass lame ass “savior” moment at the end… I thought we could finally be free of her and see Elain shine, and get more Feyre. But then SJM put Nesta at the center of the crossover too?? And ended it by seemingly giving Nesta even more plot for her to do next ACOTAR book??? Ugh! I’m just so mad and I feel embarrassed complaining about my favs getting less page time and someone I hate getting too much spotlight but I’m just so mad. I really sincerely hope that while they were doing the crossover in HOFAS, Feyre, Elain, and maybe even Mor were doing other things that we will see in ACOTAR. And I hope feyre gets the respect she deserves. :/

You're not being annoying at all anon! Sorry for responding to this so late. I completely understand your frustrations. It was definitely annoying when I read bits of hofas and saw that despite SJM teasing a lot more acotar character content and acting like there would be more than there is there really wasn't much at all and everything we got was boring as shit. I feel like the way she presented this book and what we got were two very different things.

I definitely agree that the amount Nesta's character is being shoved down peoples throats is getting obnoxious at this point. She got her spin off book and her little story and I really don't think she needs more. Tbh though I wouldn't be too stressed about it since SJM in recent books can't follow through on a plot to save her own life. So many things brought up in CC1 and CC2 that either went absolutely nowhere or just were lightly touched on but didn't have the important it seemed like they would. So I honestly doubt the end of hofas is going to become as massive as we think it is, more likely than not the resolution to that is going to come from a pages long info dumping session where we find out the why but it doesn't actually get it's own plot and story... I mean that's basically how 90% of the mysteries established in the prior two CC books and a bit in ACOSF were handled in HOFAS. I honestly predict the same for the next acotar book lmao.

I also super desperately miss Feyre.. she's the main character and the heart of the acotar series and honestly such a comfort! I wouldn't worry too much though babe, I mean the crossover was basically worthless and just info dumping, I'm glad Feyre wasn't involved in that mess. I still think Elain's book is going to be next and I'm excited for that, Nesta will have a role and that's whatever ig but I'm not going to let a boring character whose book was bad ruin my enjoyment of Elain's book.

The main acotar series where Feyre was still our narrator and protagonist will always be the best in my eyes and these are just spin off books that let us see her sisters stories and they aren't gonna dampen my love for the main series. I'm actually doing a reread of the main series right now with the discord server and we're just raving about how much we adore Feyre and her pov. I love how plot filled these books are, every scene and page actually feels important and contributes to the overarching plot of the book and there are no massive scenes of unnecessary info dumping like certain.. other books.

Love u nonnie and every SJM book that strays from Feyre's holy light is progressively worse written which just says something about our girls story.

#my posts #anons #pro feyre #feyre supremacy #anti hofas #anti nesta

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wonderlandsakura · 4 months

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Wonder's Tale, Day 27: Foundation, part 1

So it's Day 27 of writing my Tale (actual name pending) and today we're going to jump into the next section.

If you read the 26th's update, you will know that this section will have a lot of short bits, so I've decided I'm going to string them all together as reblogs of this post.

Anyway the required cut:

Charles was overwhelmed.

The lady, Alice, he'd met after being thrown out of his job (literally) seemed to be some sort of big shot??

He followed her around as the town liaison (the town liaison!!) showed her around town, talking about tax returns and productivity on a town-wide scale. It mostly flew over his head honestly.

At least the lady's attendants (attendants??!!?) we're nice. Or at least Marcus was, he was quick to explain things when Charles didn't know what to do. As for Martha, well he didn't know if she found his situation hilarious or if she just thought everything was hilarious, it was probably both though.

And now the house, no Mansion they had returned to??

Charles was going to trip over his shoes and never be seen again wasn't he? He hadn't made a deal with the devil had he? Yes, Alice was kind, but why would an Angel come to help him of all people? Also wasn't there something about devils disguising themselves as angels??

What had Charles gotten himself into???

Charles was very calmly looking around for a nice little corner to have a quick little freak out session, where he hopefully would not to be found and made a commotion of, cause that sounded like a sure-fire way to be disappeared, when he was very sadly interrupted from his searching by Martha, clearly very amused, relaying a summons from the lady.

Right it seemed his misery would end sooner than he thought! Wonderful!

Only it didn't and now he has a much too big, much too extravagant set of rooms, as well as a way too well equipped personal (Personal!1!1!) workshop and smithy and equipment and materials that are way too expensive for someone like him that he's honestly afraid to exist in the same room with. Everything was going great!

Charles was just about to take the opportunity to spiral in a nice room for probably the one and only time in his sorry existence when he sadly prevented once again.

This time it was a rumpled, bespectacled boy with messy dark bangs covering his eyes. He was confusing, too casual to be a servant, but too messy to be one of the guests the lady mentioned, surely? Unless this was a test. Yes that was probably it, it was a test and no doubt Charles was already fail-

A loud sigh interrupted his thoughts. Ah he'd been spiralling again hadn't he. Perfect. He was going to die.

"You're not going to die. Unless you continue hyperventilating," says the boy at the door of the room that surely can't be his. Could he read minds? Fuck.

The boy's eyes are searching as they stare at his face for a moment. Looking for something. There is a test isn't there? The boy sighs again. Charles is failing it isn't he??

"Don't worry, there isn't any test that'll determine whether you get to stay. At least not one that judges you on whether you 'stay in your place' or whatever," the boy says, cutting quickly to the quick of the matter, "If there was, all of us other guests probably wouldn't be here anymore."

Seeing the confusion on Charles's face, he continues, scuffing his foot on the carpeted floor as he began to rub the back of his neck, "Alice is just... Philanthropic. She sees someone in need and just helps. She doesn't really think too much about being repaid... I mean she probably said something about you being useful, but it's probably more to keep face and let her get away with it than anything," he ends in a rush.

"So I'm just saying..." He glances back at Charles face and sighs, looking away, "Don't worry to much ok? Alice means well, she won't kick you out for stepping out of line or something..."

He finally looks up and shrugs, saying, "She's nice."

Charles is. Not sure how to feel about the confession. But he does feel a bit lighter. Maybe. So he thanks the boy, who leaves, introducing himself as Arnold.

Charles watches him go before closing the door and flopping on the much too comfy bed. Well maybe it won't be so bad after all. If it's inevitable that he's going to be thrown out (he's not quite sure he believes the other boy, guest or not) he might as well make the most of it while he's here.

#tw: anxiety #tw: panic attack #Charles basically has a panic attack and is just spiralling for most of this chapter #don't worry he'll get better #i actually don't know where this characterisation is coming from btw #also Charles is worried for his life through most of this tho it's unfounded probably #tw: cursing #I'm not happy with the phrasing of the dialogue but I'm too tired to fix it so it ia what it is #wonder's tale #wonder writes #part 27 #the next Charles appearance will be much more positive don't worry

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biggerbetterbat · 1 month

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WITH YOU II | [2] WHAT HAPPENED IN THE LORD’s HOUSE

Daryl Dixon x OC!Charlie Reed

Summary: The group’s happiness ends with scary events that fate brings at them. Charlie has to say goodbye to her friends and that brings her attention to what happens to her.

Warnings: language, killing walkers, death

Song

Words: 6.214

A/N: Hello! It’s a second chapter in part 2! Soon, the action will be more dynamic and we will jump to my favorite seasons. I hope you like this chapter, and if you do then like, comment and share! Enjoy :)

Two feelings dominated her at the moment. Charlie sat alone on the floor, her thoughts consumed by a sense of regret. She was worried about Bob, feeling angry that she left him alone in the dark, while she should have waited for him and help him if he needed. At the same time, she knew that Bob probably saved her life, because she could have been the missing one right now, if he never followed her outside.

Which was only making all of it worse.

And there was also disappointment. It wasn't the first time Dary had disappeared without a word, leaving behind a trail of unanswered questions and unspoken promises. Their friendship had always been a delicate balance—a dance between loyalty and uncertainty, trust and doubt. She knew he wanted to rescue Beth from whatever, and bring her back home - to them. And yet, despite his understanding, Charlie couldn't shake the sting of disappointment that lingered in the air like a bitter aftertaste.

Charlie's mind wandered to Beth. As she sat alone in dimly lit church, the memories of Beth flooded her mind. She remembered how they first met on the farm, Beth had approached her with a warm smile and a kind word - she was always approaching everyone like this. Charlie's mind drifted back to that fateful day. She remembered the hollow emptiness in Beth's eyes, as she was talking about death. Of course, Andrea said it was her, who saved Beth; however, Charlie liked to think that her words were the those who kept Beth alive.

As time passed and their paths diverged, Charlie had allowed the distance to grow between them. Was it a lack of communication? A failure to understand one another's needs and desires? Charlie's selfishness?

"What happened to her?" she asked Maggie who was sitting next to her. "Beth."

"Daryl said they were running from the herd and she was taken," she answered.

"Taken?"

"By a car with a white cross on the back," she said. "But he doesn't know if she's still alive."

Charlie looked at Maggie, and tried not to show the skeptical glint in them. Maybe all of the above were the reasons why she hadn't even noticed the lack of bright presence of Beth, once the group reunited. Or maybe, Charlie already buried her in her mind, thinking she died in the prison. So maybe even now, Beth was already dead in her mind.

"You shall not give up faith," said Gabriel and placed his hand on her shoulder. Charlie jumped, not expecting such contact, looking up with furrowed brows.

"What could you possibly know?" she answered. "You've been alone here for this whole time."

"I wasn't alone," Gabe said. "God was with me."

"Great," Charlie muttered under her nose.

"I know it's hard, but we have to keep going," he said. "We can't afford to give up hope."

"What do you want, Father?"

"I just noticed you seemed... troubled. Is everything okay?"

"Everything's just dandy," Charlie scoffed. "Especially knowing you're lurking around."

"I get it," he nodded without any offense. "You don't trust me."

"Why would I trust you?" she looked at him. "Because you're the priest? I don't know you, and you didn't give me a reason to trust you."

"We're all the creation of the same Master," he answered. "We must hold onto faith. Faith in something greater than us, in ourselves, and each other."

"Or else what? What if we doubt?" Charlie asked. "We will all burn for this?"

Father Gabriel swallowed hard, a lump forming in his throat as he grasped the weight of Charlie's accusations. She observed his reaction intently, searching for any hint of guilt or deception in his eyes. Sensing the scrutiny, Father Gabriel rose abruptly from his seat and strode away, his intended task abruptly interrupted by the confrontation.

"Stop. What are you doing?" angry Sasha commanded, as she stormed into the church. "This is all connected. You show up, we're being watched, and now three of us are gone!"

"I don't have anything to..."

"Where are our people?!" she screamed and pushed him. Father Gabriel stood before her, his expression a mask of calm despite the storm of emotions raging within him.

"Please, I don't have anything to do with this," he said softly, reaching out a hand in a gesture of peace. His gaze never wavered, his eyes reflecting a deep well of sorrow and understanding.

Rick's instincts kicked into overdrive as he watched Sasha, stepping forward and blocked the angry woman's way, protecting Gabriel from potential injury. As he pulled her away, a surge of something dark and primal washed over Rick—an anger so sudden and consuming that it threatened to swallow him entirely. His muscles tensed, his jaw clenched. Charlie had known Rick for some time now, she had watched his transformations from lost husband and father, to dictator, to farmer. But in that moment, as Rick loomed over Gabriel with a menacing glare, she could sense something different than just leadership —a darkness lurking beneath the surface, waiting to be unleashed. Just how Carl was talking her about.

With almost a primal grunt, he took Gabriel by his collar. "What are you gonna burn for, Gabriel? What did you do?!"

"I lock the doors at night. I...always lock the door at night," the priest cried suddenly. His voice so thin and panicked due to Rick's outburst. "They started coming, my congregation. Atlanta was bombed the night before and they were scared. They were...They were looking for a safe place, a place where they felt safe. And it was so early. It was so early. And the doors were still locked," he said. "You see...it was my choice. There were so many of them, and they were trying to pry the shutters and banging on the sidings, screaming at me. And so the dead came for them," he confessed. "Women...children. Entire families calling my name as they were torn apart, begging me for mercy. Damning me to hell," one more sob left his lips as he relieved the memory. "I buried their bones. I buried it all. The Lord sent you here to finally punish me," he finally said and as Rick's grip loosened, Gabriel dropped to the ground and entered some kind of trance. "I'm damned. I always lock the doors."

Charlie felt a chill going down her back, as she couldn't shake the image of him standing there in the church, his hands stained with the blood of those he had sworn to protect. She didn't trust him from the beginning, thinking that he was the bad guy. But now, as the truth of his betrayal came to light, she felt a wave of disgust wash over her—a sickening realization that the man was nothing more than a coward and a traitor. How could he, she wondered, how could he betray the trust of his congregation, forsake his sacred vows, and abandon those who had looked to him for salvation, those who trusted him? The thought made her stomach churn with revulsion, a bitter taste of betrayal lingering on her tongue.

However, hadn't she done the same thing? Lurked people who trusted her to a place that was supposed to be safe, and then run, letting them die.

From her thoughts she was taken by the whistling. Not any whistling, a special melody that once almost made her go crazy.

"There's someone outside lying in the grass," Glenn reported.

The sight that greeted the group outside the church was enough to turn their stomachs. Bob lay crumpled on the ground, his face contorted in agony, white cloth wrapped around the place his leg should be, turning red. Sasha cried and the group was fast to get Bob inside of the church; however, the Walkers were taunted by the smell of blood, appearing from behind the bushes.

Charlie's anger ignited like a flame, burning hot and fierce within her chest. Every swing of her weapon was fueled by the rage that burned within her—the anger at Daryl for his absence, at Gabriel for his betrayal, at the people who had hurt Bob, and at herself for the sins of her past that came back to her once again. Each blow struck with the force of her pent-up emotions, a release in the face of overwhelming despair.

But amidst the chaos, a sudden shoot echoed through the air. Rick was quick to react. "Get inside!"

Charlie's hands trembled as she drove the blade of her knife into the skull of the walker, again and again, long after it had dropped to the ground and stopped being any danger to anyone. The sound of gunfire echoed in the distance, a grim reminder of the dangers that lurked beyond the safety of their makeshift sanctuary. But Charlie paid it no mind, her vision blurred by a haze of emotion as she fought to drown out the chaos that raged around her.

With each thrust of her weapon, she felt a fragment of her anger slip away, replaced by a numbness that spread through her like a wave. She no longer saw the walkers as mindless corpses, but as symbols of her own inner demons—monsters that she could kill with the sharp edge of her blade.

"Hey! Hey. He's already dead," Rosita said and pushed her body up holding her arms. "He's dead. And if we won't move...we will be too," she looked her in the eyes and forced Charlie to get inside the church.

"Somebody knocked me out," confessed Bob, and it was the first thing Charlie heard after entering the church. "I woke up outside this place...it looked like a school. It was that guy, Gareth."

Charlie glanced at Rick, unaware of Gareth's identity. She speculated that he might be someone from Terminus, perhaps as nice as the man they had encountered in the shed. However, Rick's reaction betrayed his knowledge, his expression changing into one of fear and fury.

"They were eating my leg right in front of me," Bob said. "Like it was nothing. They couldn't do that back there, so they were so proud. Thinking that they have all figured out."

"Did they have Daryl and Carol?"

"Gareth said they drove off."

Charlie's heart sank as the news of Daryl's departure with Carol reached her ears. A profound sense of betrayal washed over her, mingling with the ache of abandonment that gnawed at her insides. She had trusted Daryl, relied on him as an ally, and now, to learn that he had left without a word, left her feeling as though the ground had been ripped out from beneath her feet. One thing was certain—no matter the reason, the sting of his departure would linger long after he was gone, a bitter reminder of the fragility of trust and the scars left behind by those we hold most dear.

She looked with a heavy heart at the man on the ground and that's when she saw it. Missing flesh from his shoulder. Bob was bitten...Shock coursed through her veins, freezing her in place as she struggled to comprehend the cruel twist of fate that had befallen her friend. Fear gripped her, tendrils of dread snaking their way around her chest as she grappled with the harsh reality of their situation - Bob's tragic fate.

Her heart broke one more time.

With gentle hands and heavy hearts, the group carefully lifted Bob's limp form, cradling him as though he were made of fragile glass. Charlie led the solemn procession, as she guided them to a secluded room - where Bob could rest and not hear about their master plan, at least for the time they were making it. They laid him down upon a bed of blankets and pillows, arranging his belongings with care beside him.

"Time for reality check," Abraham said. "We all need to leave for DC right now."

"Daryl and Carol are gonna be back," Rick said.

"I respect that, but there's a clear threat here to Eugene," he said. "I need to extract his ass before things get any uglier. So if y'all won't come, good luck to you. We'll go our separate ways."

Tension crackled in the air like static electricity as Rick and Abraham stood face to face, their expressions locked in a silent battle of wills. Abraham's eyes burned with a fierce determination, his jaw set in a stubborn line as he squared off against Rick. Who, on the other hand, radiated a quiet intensity, his gaze unwavering as he met Abraham's challenge head-on. His fists clenched at his sides.

In the midst of the chaotic yet sipent battle between Rick and Abraham, Charlie seized the opportune moment of distraction. With a swift movement, she pulled Eugene close to her, his startled eyes meeting hers in wide-eyed bewilderment. Pressing the barrel of her gun firmly against his temple, she felt a surge of adrenaline course through her veins, her heart pounding in her chest with the weight of her actions.

They heard a click of a gun and turned around, seeing Eugene almost crying from fear. Without hesitation, Abraham held his gun up and pointed at Charlie.

"Don't shoot!" Glenn yelled both at Abraham and his best friend.

"Charlie," Rick said.

"Stop right now," she commanded. "We're in this together. So you will help us and wait, or you won't have a reason to go to DC."

"Eugene's mission is too important," Abraham said firmly.

"Then you leave us no choice," she said. "We'll take Eugene with us."

"You threaten me?"

"I'm giving you a choice," she said. "Eugene's life is in your hands."

"You lay a finger on him, and I swear..."

"You'll what? Shoot me?" Charlie scoffed. "Go ahead."

Abraham's grip tightens on the gun, his expression torn between duty and sympathy. He stood amidst the palpable tension, his mind raced with a whirlwind of conflicting thoughts and emotions. He thought of the road they had traveled together, the trials they had faced, and the bonds they had forged in short time. But amidst the memories, a nagging voice whispered in the back of his mind—a voice that urged him to break free, to strike out on his own in search of a life untethered by the constraints of duty and obligation.

Glenn's frantic pleas cut through the haze of his thoughts, pulling him back to the present with a jolt. The urgency in Glenn's voice was unmistakable, his eyes wide with fear and desperation as he implored Abraham to lay down his weapon. "Let's calm down."

"If you stay just one more day and help, I'll shut the hell up and go with you to DC. And I'll never question your decisions. No matter what," Charlie said.

"After what you just did, you're not getting close to Eugene without my permission!" he yelled. "There's no way I'm letting you go with us. I want Glenn, Maggie, and Tara."

"No way," Rick shook his head.

"We will go with you," Glenn agreed immediately.

"Glenn, no."

"This is not your call," he said angry and then he turned back to Abraham. "You stay...you help.

With a heavy sigh, Abraham lowered his weapon, the tension in his shoulders easing as the grip of his anger and frustration. Glenn's relief was palpable, as he reached out a hand to clasp Abraham's in a gesture of solidarity.

"Dammit," the ginger muttered under his nose. "12 hours. Then we go."

"Charlie let him go," Glenn told his friend.

She released the grip she had on the man, hands shaking and feeling tired by her own actions, and pushed him slightly. "But I will shoot if you try to break the deal."

"And I will shoot if you try this again," Abraham warned her and passed without a word.

In the dim confines of the room, silence hung heavy like a suffocating shroud. They waited with bated breath, the tension in the air palpable as they strained their ears for any sign of movement outside. Every creak of the floorboards, every rustle of fabric, sent shivers down their spines. It only intensified, once they heard steps and creaking of the floor, each of them tried to manage their feelings on their own.

Rosita's boredom was palpable, her restless energy vibrating in the air like a live wire. Her fingers tapping impatiently against her thigh as she struggled to contain her frustration. Carl fidgeted with his weapon, his eyes darting restlessly around the room as he longed for the opportunity to confront their enemies. Gabriel, on the other hand, was a picture of fear and resignation, his hands clasped tightly in prayer as he sought solace in the familiar rituals of his faith. And then there was Bob, lying m on the bed, his body weakened by the bite of the undead.

As the footsteps drew nearer, their anxiety reached a fever pitch, the air thick with anticipation and dread. Especially Eugene, who was on a verge of crying. And then, with a sinking feeling in the pit of their stomachs, they heard the voices—cold and calculating, filled with malice and intent.

"Well, I guess you know that we're here," the man said. "And we know...you're here. We're armed. So there's really no point in hiding anymore. We've been watching you. We know who's here," he said. "There's Bob...and Eugene...Rosita...Martin's good friends Tyreese...and Charlie...Carl...Judith," he was counting them down, and a chill ran down Charlie's spine. Also, Charlie looked at Tyreese as she was shocked that the guy from the shed was alive. "Rick and the rest walked out with a lot of your guns. This is a big place! Let's stop now, before things get painful."

"You're behind one of these two doors, and we have more than enough firepower to take down both," once again Gareth spoke. "Can't imagine that's what you all want."

The guy was talking too much. Charlie wanted to kill herself right there right now so she wouldn't have to listen to his annoying voice. If that was supposed to scare them? It wasn't working...Maybe a little, but it was just due to the fact that she knew what they were capable of.

"How about the priest?" Gareth asked. "Father, you help us wrap this up, we'll let you walk away from this."

The first mistake they made, entering the room: forgetting not to trust the priest. They focused so much on everything around that they forgot that Gabriel was a coward, who let the whole community get killed for his safety. They should have at least tie him and put something in his mouth.

"You can take the baby with you. What do you say?" he taunted the priest.

Charlie's gaze flickered towards Gabriel, her expression hardened by the gravity of their situation. With a silent determination, she shifted her gun, its barrel now aimed squarely at him, a silent warning to remain quiet. Her eyes bore into his, a silent plea for compliance as she conveyed her message without a word. It was better to be safe than sorry.

But then someone else opened their mouth. Judith started crying out of nowhere, the sound of her voice seemed even louder in the silence of the night.

But then, as if from out of the darkness itself, a sudden commotion erupted beyond the closed doors—conversation that shattered the oppressive silence like a thunderclap. Charlie's breath caught in her throat, her senses heightened as she strained to discern the source of the disturbance. Panic surged within the group, their eyes wide with fear and confusion as they exchanged frantic glances, their minds racing with a thousand unanswered questions. And then, amidst the chaos, a piercing screams tore through the air—a sound so raw and primal that it sent shivers down their spines. It was a cry of agony, of despair, a haunting lament that echoed long after it had faded into the darkness.

Tyreese cautiously pushed open the doors, a wave of dread washed over him, freezing him in his tracks. Charlie, standing close behind, felt her heart lurch at the sight that greeted them—a scene of carnage and horror. Blood spattered the walls in grotesque patterns, the metallic scent thick in the air as it mingled with the stench of death. Corpses littered the floor like discarded dolls, their lifeless eyes staring blankly into the abyss, their bodies contorted in the final throes of agony. Charlie's breath caught in her throat, her stomach churning with disgust as she took in the scene before her. It was a scene straight from her worst nightmares, a nightmare made real in the dim confines of the room.

As Charlie's gaze met Rick's, a chill raced down her spine at the unsettling glint she saw in his eyes. He placed his hand - covered in blood, just like everything else, on her shoulder as he hugged her slightly, and Charlie tensed her body. The group passed her as if nothing had happened and Charlie's eyes then locked with Maggie's, Glenn's, and Tara's in a fleeting moment of connection. Their eyes held a quiet resolve, a steadfast determination to protect those he loved at any cost.

"This is the Lord's house," she heard Gabriel saying, barely holding on.

"No," Maggie said. "It's just four walls and a roof."

It was a sunny day, giving hope after last night terrors. However, their hope was rather crushed and destroyed to pieces with the prospect of saying goodbye. She entered the room that became empty as she was the last person to talk to Bob.

Bob lay on the simple cot, his breaths shallow and labored. His body was wracked with pain, the effects of the walker's bite spreading through his veins like wildfire. His eyes, once bright with life, now held a distant gaze as he fought against the inevitable.

"Charlie," Bob cooed and smiled. She managed a weak smile, though pain. Charlie moved closer, taking a seat beside the bed. She reached out, gently clasping Bob's hand in her own, the gesture a silent offering of comfort. "What's with that face?"

"It's just...hard to accept," Charlie confessed, searching for his eyes. "I'm sorry, Bob," she murmured, her voice choked with emotion. "I wish there was something I could do."

Bob squeezed Charlie's hand weakly, a flicker of gratitude in his eyes. "You coming here to say goodbye is enough," he whispered. "Thank you for everything."

Tears welled in Charlie's eyes as she struggled to find the right words. She shook her head. "You've been a good friend, Bob," she said hoarsely. "I'll never forget you."

Bob managed a faint chuckle, though it quickly dissolved into a coughing fit. Charlie leaned in, offering support as Bob struggled to catch his breath. When the fit passed, Bob's breathing was even more labored, his strength fading with each passing moment. He smiled weakly. "You have to promise me something."

"Just name it."

"Promise me you'll keep fighting. Promise me you won't let this world crush your spirit. Do it not just for me...but for Luke."

"What?"

"I knew it was you," he said. "He showed me a picture once. He was carrying it everywhere," he added. "He was a good man, Charlie. He talked about you all the time. When we met I recognized you immediately and it was as if I knew you."

Tears welled in Charlie's eyes as she listened, her heart heavy with the weight of loss and remembrance. "I miss him every day," she whispered, her voice trembling with emotion.

"He always had my back...so did you," Bob said. "He loved you so very much. You and your brothers. So...Promise me you won't give up."

"I promise, Bob. I'll keep fighting. I'll make sure your sacrifice wasn't in vain."

"Thank you, Charlie."

Sasha's mournful cries echoed through the stillness of the church, not so long ago after Charlie left them alone. She stepped back inside and closer to Sasha, she placed a hand on her back.

As Charlie's eyes fell upon the lifeless form of Bob, a wave of sorrow washed over her, mingling with the empathy she felt for Sasha. She couldn't help but feel a pang of compassion for Sasha, whose cries now seemed to echo with an unbearable sense of loneliness and abandonment. With a heavy sigh, Charlie knelt beside Bob's lifeless body, gently reaching out to comfort Sasha, knowing that in this moment of tragedy, they were all bound together by a shared sense of mourning and sorrow.

"I can't," she sobbed, squeezing the knife.

The weight of the decision hung heavy on her shoulders, torn between the desire to ease Sasha's suffering and the moral implications of taking a life, even one already on the brink of becoming something monstrous. With a furrowed brow, Charlie wrestled with herself, knowing that whatever choice she made would alter the course of their shared fate. But before she voiced her thoughts, a spread hand moved next to her and reached for a knife.

"You step out," Tyreese said to his sister, but then looked at Charlie. He wanted to help her as he knew what the girl was forced to do.

Perched on the worn steps of the church, Charlie watched in silence as Abraham and his group hurriedly packed their belongings, preparing to depart. A sense of sadness enveloped her as she observed the bustling activity around her, feeling like an outsider in their midst. Despite the familiarity of their shared surroundings, there was an undeniable distance between her and Abraham, his attention focused solely on the task at hand. As she sat alone with her thoughts, Charlie couldn't shake the pang of loneliness that gnawed at her heart, longing for a connection that seemed to elude her grasp.

"He likes you," Rosita said, stopping next to her. "And he can't get over the fact that you can't go."

"He didn't let me."

"He's a man."

"He's a soldier," Charlie corrected her.

She chuckled. "I think I might have judged you wrong."

"Yeah," Charlie nodded. "I thought we would have more time together."

Rosita nodded with a small smile, patted the other girl's back, and before turning away, she said: "Take care, Charlie."

"Rosita," Charlie called her name, stopping her. "Just...stay safe out there. All of you," she added nodding her head in Abraham's direction.

"We will," she nodded.

"And promise me to take care of Glenn."

She nodded with a small smile.

As Charlie watched Rosita walk away with a heavy heart, she couldn't shake the feeling of regret washing over her. She realized that she hadn't given Rosita a fair chance for friendship, and now she was leaving, perhaps never to return. The missed opportunities to bond and connect weighed heavily on her mind, and a pang of sadness settled in her chest. She wished she had taken the time to get to know Rosita better.

As Charlie turned around, she found herself face to face with Glenn, a familiar face amidst the bustling crowd. Her heart skipped a beat as memories of their first encounter flooded her mind. She remembered how they had met in Atlanta, and how Glenn had became a beacon of hope.

And now, as she looked into his eyes, she saw the same unwavering resolve that had drawn her to him all those months ago. "We were supposed to stick together."

"It sucks," he nodded. "But this is what we have to do."

"I'm gonna miss you, Glenn," she whispered.

She squeezed him tightly, as if trying to imprint the feel of his embrace into her memory, knowing that soon it would be just a distant echo in the recesses of her mind. She felt his grip tighten in response, his silent reassurance a balm to her frayed nerves.

She wanted to tell him how much he meant to her, how grateful she was for his friendship and his unwavering support, but the words caught in her throat, choked by the lump that had formed there.

Instead, she buried her face against his chest, breathing in the familiar scent of sweat and dirt and something uniquely Glenn.

"This isn't goodbye forever. It's until we find a way," he said, pushing her slightly away and holding her face in between his hands. "And we will. We always do. Soon we will meet in DC."

She nodded her head. "I don't want you to go."

"Come on, no tears," he said and wiped a single tear that ran down her cheek. "You know what they say, absence makes the heart grow... less freaked out by my terrible jokes."

Charlie chuckled through tears and Glenn smiled, too.

"That's better," he nodded and once again he hugged her. His arms wrapped around her felt like a lifeline, anchoring her in a world that seemed to be slipping away with each passing moment.

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be, Charles," he said.

"Take care of yourself out there, okay?"

"You too, Charlie." he answered and they let go of each other and sighed. "See you around."

"Count on it."

"This is our route to DC," Abraham said and gave a map to Rick. "We'll stick to it as long as we're able. If not, well, you got our destination. This group should be there for it. To see a new world."

"We will," Charlie looked at Abraham but he didn't even looked at her, then he passed her with offended face.

As the group prepared to part ways, there was a somber yet determined atmosphere lingering in the air. Charlie stood among them, her expression a mix of sadness and resolve.

Each member exchanged heartfelt embraces, conveying their gratitude, love, and respect for one another. Glenn shared a final hug with Charlie, his eyes conveying a silent promise to stay strong. Maggie hugged Charlie tightly, whispering words of encouragement and hope. Tara stretched her arm to bump their fists, but Charlie just pulled for a hug - not as tight as Maggie.

Then, everyone got into the fire truck and Charlie watched them go, her heart heavy with the weight of their absence yet lifted by the bonds they shared. Charlie couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong with her. It wasn't just the usual flutter of anxiety that accompanied social interactions; it was something deeper, something darker that clawed at the edges of her consciousness.

Charlie felt a lump form in her throat as she watched her friends disappear down the street, the engine fading into the distance. She wanted to call out to them, to beg them not to leave her, but the words caught in her throat. Instead, she hugged her arms around herself, trying to hold herself together as the tears threatened to spill over. She knew she couldn't keep running from her thoughts forever, but the thought of facing it head-on was almost too much to bear.

And later that day, they buried Bob's body.

Charlie was sitting outside the church in the dead of night, surrounded by the dense forest. The moonlight filtered through the trees, casting long shadows around her. She was haunted by memories of Bob's death, his face etched in her mind. It wasn't the only loss she experienced that day. Thoughts of Glenn were flooding every part of her brain, consuming her to the bottom. But now, her most loyal companion was gone, and she had no idea where in the world he could be. His absence left a gaping hole in her heart. As she sat alone in the quiet of the night, Charlie found herself longing for the warmth of Glenn's presence, yearning for the comfort and strength he always provided.

Moreover, she missed Abraham's lingering presence.

"Mom, dad, Finn, Luke, Will, Pete, Amy, Jim, Jacquie, Sophia, Shane, Patricia, Jimmy, Lori, T-Dog, Oscar, Axel, Merle, Andrea, Zach, Patrick, Hershel, Mika, Lizzie, Bob,” she whispered. “Mom, dad, Finn, Luke, Will, Pete, Amy, Jim…”

When she said his name, a sudden realization ran down on her, and the thought made her mortified to the bone. As she sat alone on the steps of the church, her thoughts drifted to Jim, a friend she had lost not long ago. His words echoed in her mind like a haunting refrain: "You will wake up and you will feel empty inside, but before you will watch everyone go. Each death will take a piece of you and you won't be yourself anymore. You will be mad just like me."

At the time, Charlie had brushed off his words as the ramblings of a man on the edge of death, but now they seemed to carry a weight she couldn't ignore. Was she destined to lose everyone she cared about, one by one, until she was left alone in the darkness? And would she truly go crazy, as Jim had predicted, her mind unraveling like a thread pulled too tight?

Charlie shook her head, trying to banish the dark thoughts that threatened to overwhelm her.

"Mom, dad, Finn, Luke, Will, Pete, Amy, Jim, Jacquie, Sophia, Shane, Patricia, Jimmy, Lori, T-Dog, Oscar, Axel, Merle, Andrea, Zach, Patrick, Hershel, Mika, Lizzie, Bob.”

As Charlie sat lost in her thoughts, the sound of approaching footsteps disrupted her reverie. She looked up to see Michonne, sitting down slowly.

"I heard you talking," Michonne said softly, her eyes searching Charlie's face. "What's on your mind?"

Charlie hesitated, unsure if she was ready to share her inner turmoil. But something in Michonne's gentle gaze urged her to speak. "It's just... my thing," she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper.

Michonne nodded in understanding, her silence offering a comforting presence. She touched Charlie's arm and squeezed it. "We all need to learn how to live with what had happened in the prison."

"Yeah," Charlie nodded, knowing very well that her problems reach far beyond prison's walls. "But I think worse things happen after the fall."

Michonne's gaze flickered briefly, a shadow passing over her features before she met Charlie's eyes. "It's true," she admitted, her voice tinged with regret. "After what happened to Hershel... I saw him being killed with my own sword. The very weapon I had wielded to protect us."

A heavy silence settled between them as Charlie absorbed the weight of Michonne's revelation. The air seemed charged with shared grief and the acknowledgment of the burden they both carried.

"I thought I could move past it, keep fighting," Michonne continued, her tone a mix of vulnerability and determination. "But every time I pick up that katana, I see his face. It's as if I'm reliving that moment over and over again."

Charlie nodded, a silent understanding passing between them. The shared pain of losing someone close. Charlie placed her hand on Michonne's shoulder and rubbed it gently. "We all carry a burden," Charlie finally said, her voice a whisper. "The weight of the past can be suffocating."

"What happened in the forest Charlie?" the woman asked. "It's been crazy those past couple of days, but you can talk to me."

Charlie hesitated, her eyes reflecting the weight of a secret she could no longer bear alone. Finally, she took a deep breath and looked directly into Michonne's eyes. "It was Lizzie and Mika," she confessed, her voice barely audible over the rustling leaves.

"The girls Carol was taking care of?"

"Lizzie... she killed Mika. I had to do it," she stated, tears welling up her eyes. "I...had to do that. To protect us. To protect Judith."

As the truth spilled from her lips, the darkness seemed to close in around them, suffocating in its intensity. But in that moment of raw vulnerability, Charlie felt a sense of release, as if the burden she had carried for so long had finally been lifted. Michonne pulled Charlie into a comforting embrace, wordlessly offering solace in their shared pain. "You did what you had to do," she said firmly. "And you're not alone. We'll get through this together."

The sound, sharp and unexpected, pulled them from their hug with a jolt of apprehension. Instinctively, they turned towards the source of the disturbance, their senses on high alert. The darkness seemed to deepen around them, the shadows growing more ominous as uncertainty hung heavy in the air.

With hearts pounding in their chests, Michonne and Charlie exchanged a silent glance, a silent vow passing between them.

"Where's Carol?" Michonne asked the question, so Charlie already knew who to expect.

Her heart skipped a beat when a familiar figure emerged from the shadows. It was Daryl, his silhouette outlined against the moonlit backdrop. For a moment, Charlie's emotions threatened to overwhelm her—anger, hurt, and relief all swirling within her chest. She had thought he was gone for good, his sudden departure leaving her feeling abandoned and alone.

But none of them made a step forward. None of them even said a word to each other. Daryl was the first to break the silence, but his words were directed at someone. "Come on out!"

But it wasn't Carol.

#daryl dixon #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon series #daryl dixon twd #daryl dixon x reader #daryl fanfiction #daryl the walking dead #daryl twd #daryl x reader

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comfort-questing · 7 months

Text

10. stranded

"we need to have a talk, all right? about this whole holding the bridge thing."

"I hate to pull rank," she said, from the better-lit side of the office, where she sat cross-legged on her cot, "but I'm the captain here, and I'm trying to follow the orders we were given."

they chewed their lip for a moment, their eyes straying to the shuttered window, the roar of the river distant in the night stillness. "three, four days till the main army reaches the river. if it's not our post, it's somewhere else... but what are we supposed to do then if we still don't have reinforcements?"

"we're going to."

"you keep saying they'll come for us. but - what if they don't? it's been weeks since we sent the messengers. maybe - maybe we're meant to fail, you know. maybe they're just going to help the South Rapids folk instead."

"we don't know that." she rubbed at the hollows beside her eyes, wind-reddened from watch earlier that evening. "we just have to trust the others, and do what we need to in the meantime."

"this whole thing is ridiculous. I know you're the captain, I know it's orders, but - really." they were taking advantage of the situation a little, because she was leaning on them for support on the way up the staircase, leaving haphazard splashes of blood on the stones behind. talk of a captive audience.

"only ridiculous - thing here - is how long - these stairs are." she had bitten her lips white, and her voice was clipped. "this was - just a skirmish - just a test - "

they didn't speak again until they were in her office, among the scattered papers and bits and odds and ends of fort life, the cot in the corner passing for a good rest. she sank down there gratefully and accepted their help undoing what was left of her jacket, the arrow shaft still tangled in fabric and flesh halfway between shoulder and elbow.

"don't move. lie down. I'll get Thomas."

"he's got enough to do - with the other wounded. worse off than me. you've - helped me before, now help me again."

the sharp flush of fever on her cheeks, the guarded way she held her sling-wrapped arm against her body, showed them all they needed to know that evening. that, and the sinking sunlight not quite dim enough to hide the sight of approaching horses and riders in the distance, a wider spread of the advance than any of the little scouting bands that had tried their fortress's strength before.

behind them, the river; before them, the enemy; and she was leaning on them for help again, as she organized that evening's guard assignments, the nervous-looking soldiers forcing grim smiles to match her confidence.

they weren't ready yet to contradict her in front of the others. insubordination wasn't a good look, and would make no difference anyway at this point.

only to catch her as she staggered on the way off the walltops, and steady her on the descent into the main keep, and then to pray to whatever merciful Heaven might be listening that her hopes were not misplaced.

although if the lot of them truly were stranded here - abandoned to the incoming attack - then they would stay with her, in any case, till the end.

she was finally asleep, sweat-matted hair pinned to her temples, the blankets tousled around her restless form. they opened the door of the office as quietly as they could in answer to the low knocking, trying not to rouse her, the dull sick ache of fear in their chest.

"Captain - oh, lieutenant, it's you, sorry."

"Captain's resting. what's the news?"

another attack, no doubt. more scouts, or archers, or a force organized enough to try undermining the walls. the possibilities were truly endless at this point, and universally unpleasant.

"messenger from the south." the soldier's grin was genuine this time, one of the most credible smiles seen for days if not weeks. "there's five companies on their way to us, should be here by dawn."

they felt their own face pull into a smile, rusty and unpracticed.

"thanks for the news," they said, and found their voice hoarse suddenly, "I'll tell the captain when she wakes."

tell her that she was right, after all; that they weren't alone.

#whump #hurt comfort #whumptober 2023 #whumptober day 10 #I was going to do this earlier but I had to sleep off a wicked headache #anyway #lady whump

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thelioncourts · 11 months

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If the shows gonna do Lesmand, don’t you think they have to go the polyam route? I just don’t see how they go there without it otherwise it kind of makes Loustat, Loumand and Armand/Daniel kinda cheapened

Okay, so I'm going to answer this and I'm going to beg people to not come for my throat; I'm simply answering this with educated guesses as well as general knowledge that I think pertains to this.

So. I don't really think the show is going to do Lesmand, at least not in a full-fledged ship/couple/whatever you want to call it. I truly don't.

If I had to give any kind of guess as to what Lestat and Armand's relationship is going to look like in the show, it's going to look a lot like it does in the book, but with a simplification of Armand's feelings in particular.

I think we're going to get, of course, the TVL/IwtV interactions between Lestat and Armand, namely their first interaction in Paris when they first meet as well as the tower scene and the torture scenes that occur in IwtV/TVL (with Lestat's POV). I think we're, of course, going to get Lestat with the theatre and handing it to Armand, Armand and Nicki, etc. and then, from there, I think we'll get certain aspects of the Prince Lestat era. I think if they're going to do The Vampire Armand (book), they're going to have to do an entire limited series, at a minimum, for him, and, in turn, Lestat will be in at least some of that.

But regarding romance, I don't see them doing a lot, if really, any of it. I think they'll have Armand begging for Lestat to stay with him after that first meeting, but I think that will be done to show some of the odd resentment Armand has for Lestat. Beyond that, I don't anticipate much romance, namely that we don't have much from a Lestat POV anyway throughout all the books combined.

I think one thing to keep in mind is that this is a television adaptation of the books, and it is not fully accurate to the text. These writers are not adhering to a solely book-fan audience, nor should they. They are appealing to a wider set of people, trying to maintain a following there.

Rolin Jones has repeatedly classified IwtV as a gothic romance and has said that they are focusing heavily on Loustat. He's not going to say that if they're going to go on a polyam route. Television works on a very particular set of...expectations, and s1 focusing on the essential marriage of Loustat, and its downfall, is fully setting us up to see them get back together and then be in a romance that is more sustainable for them (I don't want to say 'healthier' because nothing is healthy in this series, just in general).

It also appears that Armand/Daniel (Armandiel? Armandaniel?) is going to be important and, no doubt, focused on, given especially Daniel's current role in the 2022!world.

Loustat is a really heavy hitter with fans. Loustat posts by the AMC account get a staggering amount of likes/retweets/shares/etc. in comparison to literally anything else. Audiences are going to not be super thrilled about Loumand because audiences want him with Lestat; when the truth of Armand's actions are brought to light, fans are not going to like him with Louis or Lestat (killing Claudia, maiming her body, allowing Louis' imprisonment to make sure that happens, torturing Lestat, throwing Lestat's weakened body from the towers, etc.). Even when we see the different sides of him, the softer ones, the funnier ones, etc. we are going to see that predominantly in regard to Daniel.

It'll be made worse when TVL happens and they see what Armand does to Nicki. Audiences won't like Nicki near the end either, not for Lestat, but they especially won't think what Armand did is justified.

Anyway, this is all a very longwinded way to say that Armand is a character that television audiences are going to struggle with. I think they can absolutely sell Armand and Daniel, but there will be a lot of dislike next season with Loumand, and with that I think the idea of Lesmand will be so far from a (non-book mostly) fan's mind that it couldn't even be considered as a contender for Loustat.

So. Yes, long explanation short, I don't see Lesmand really happening on screen. Some moments? Sure. Insinuations? Perhaps. Long-term anything? Absolutely not.

#literally terrified to answer anything on here right now lmao y'all keep putting controversial things in my inbox #and then i get like seven messages telling me to kms or whatever #and while that doesn't bother me as much anymore i'm not a fan y'know?#so please be kind i'm just trying to be realistic to a point

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masterqwertster · 10 months

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for the spell prompts! mental prison with imogen and orym?

Prompt Oooo, spell of major ouchies. And a sorcerer spell... Let's take a look at an unlikely future...

31 Mental Prison

You attempt to bind a creature within an illusory cell that only it perceives. One creature you can see within range must make an Intelligence saving throw. The target succeeds automatically if it is immune to being charmed. On a successful save, the target takes 5d10 psychic damage, and the spell ends. On a failed save, the target takes 5d10 psychic damage, and you make the area immediately around the target’s space appear dangerous to it in some way [for 1 minute Concentration]. You might cause the target to perceive itself as being surrounded by fire, floating razors, or hideous maws filled with dripping teeth. Whatever form the illusion takes, the target can’t see or hear anything beyond it and is restrained for the spell’s duration. If the target is moved out of the illusion, makes a melee attack through it, or reaches any part of its body through it, the target takes 10d10 psychic damage, and the spell ends.

Once her and Orym have snuck within range, Imogen casts her deadly psychic trap. She feels it take, catching both targets in a Mental Prison, causing them to wince from the psychic barbs dug into their minds.

I wouldn't move if I were you, she mentally declares, just a little shaky from all the magic spent on twinning that spell.

"Imogen, wha-!" her mama exclaims, nose bleeding and hands to her head.

"Foolish chil-!" Otohan hisses.

She doesn't have time for much more than that.

Orym uses a Grasping Vine to drag the general through the edge of the spell, unleashing an even more punishing second psychic blast. As they reel from the damage, he flies through the air, equally pulled forward by the vine.

Seedling flashes out.

The Legend of the Peaks' head falls, her body soon to follow.

"Otohan!" Liliana screams.

There's a grim sort of satisfaction in Orym's eyes as he flicks the blood off his blade. His husband and father (and many others besides) have finally been avenged.

"Otohan!" Liliana screams a second time, falling to her knees with sense enough to not break the spell's perimeter.

She had to go, mama. She killed our people, and this is fuckin' war, Imogen tells her mother, voice cold.

And that was the easy part.

There was no doubt in Imogen's mind that Otohan was an enemy. That she was a piece that must be removed from the board. For Orym. For Laudna. For Fearne. For Lord Eshteross. And for every other person she killed to make the Ruby Vanguard's bloody path forwards.

You've got a choice now, mama. You can join us, or you can join her, Imogen delivers the ultimatum.

"You wouldn't even trust me if I joined you," Liliana says morosely.

You could have had my trust back at the Malleus Key. All you had to do was stop.

"I'm savin' the world, Imogen," Liliana declares with a sad smile. "I can't stop."

And before Imogen or Orym can do anything, Liliana's hands flash through the motions of magic, teleporting her away.

"...Damnit," Imogen quietly curses, kicking the dirt.

"We'll just have to be more decisive next time," Orym softly declares, bumping his shoulder against her hip.

"Yeah, I suppose so," Imogen sighs. "If there is a next time. Fuckin' up a teleport really sucks, and she just took a second hit when she left the Mental Prison. She might be bleedin' out on the other end."

"Guess we'll have to wait and see," Orym says philosophically. "Or try scrying on her."

"...Yeah. Oh! Don't forget to grab Otohan's backpack thing," Imogen reminds the halfling warrior. "If you don't wanna use it, I'm sure Chet or Ashton would love to have it."

Orym snorts in wry amusement. "I'm not sure we're ready for that kind of chaos."

"Chaos from Chet or from Ashton?" Imogen asks curiously.

"Either-Or, really," Orym replies with a shrug as he pushes Otohan's cloak aside. "Who knows what kind of stuff Chet would get up to with three duplicates. And Ashton's chaotic enough without seeing what happens when they use a device powered by the same kind of magic."

"Ugh. I don't think I want to know with Chetney," Imogen replies with a shudder, remembering the old gnomes open offer of 'healing' services.

Orym laughs. Not care free, but light enough, considering the grim work they've done. And it's enough to make Imogen smile too.

They'll get through this. Together, and with the rest of their friends.

#MQ&A #MQfic #critical role #orym of the air ashari #imogen temult #spell hurt/comfort prompt

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awellboiledicicle · 8 months

Text

First person to try drilling down on what Fido's deal is would be Gale, between adventuring and actually sleeping. He's limited to whatever books they can scrounge initially [as Fido is hoarding them to learn about the world they're now stuck in], but by the time they get to Baldur's Gate he's going to have some very specific queries outside of the whole Crown research thing.

First person to go "Maybe this is a warlock thing" is, naturally, Wyll. Because Fido is going to eldritch blast something in a panic and he's going to go "now hold on". Also because I imagine Mizora would think it was hilarious another warlock is making noise about his deal. They make some barbed comment to her, the magic flaring a bit, and she tuts at Wyll for consorting with 'that mean old octopus' behind her back like this. Leaves before explaining anything.

Astarion 100% believes they're lying about not knowing they're bound up with some apparently tentacled monster when it comes out. like. just thematically it feels like a thing one should know about. He's just saying that if HE had made a deal to get MAGIC INVULNERABILITY POWERS, then HE would have remembered that. They throw a handful of grass at him and he rolls his eyes.

Lae'zel still occasionally thwacks them with a random sword to see if their protection is still working. This is, she insists, a function of their friendship that she would bother doing a check at all. Deep down she just really appreciates their willingness to listen and learn from her, as well as their absolute unwillingness to take any shit from her. Thus the checking.

Shadowheart still thinks they're a little crazy, for different reasons. Initially it was because they insisted they had no idea elves were real, followed by being from 'earth', followed by their panic response being to yell insults at the enemy to make their brain explode. The warlock thing feels like they might have been lying about it--a skill they seem unnervingly good at in spite of their general honest streak--but honestly? Given how they keep tripping into being good to others, she wouldn't doubt them having been just given the ring by some sorcerer or something.

Halsin feels conflicted about Fido expressly because they have a very... dim view of nature being allowed to take its course. With people. They get along largely after Fido gets fed up and goes "you're ungodly old so you can handle sitting down and leveling with me here. I need you to understand that, where i come from, if someone looks at someone like me and says 'nature should take its course' that means 'i want you to not exist'. It means 'you are unnatural'. We're not having the same conversation when we talk about nature, here. I like the birds doing bird things and fish swimming and whatever. But sometimes nature is cruel and I am living proof that sometimes nature would destroy people and things that should exist." Basically they get along on principal but have initial complications bc Fido spent a lot of time as a chronically in pain child being told survival of the fittest wouldn't allow for them. As a queer kid being told they were unnatural. So on. So they don't actually have beef with him so much as a kneejerk reaction for a little plus the initial GODDAMNIT response when he can't help. His take on the warlock thing is largely being curious as to how that happens without ones knowledge.

Karlach meanwhile is just pissed that she can't hi-five them without it still hurting. Like their skin doesn't melt but they can still feel the sensation of heat and pressure, so it isn't pleasant. She also wants to know how one ends up in a warlock pact without knowing it because that feels like a pitfall to avoid.

Not pictured is the GOO checking in occasionally like it's reading the sunday paper like "oh they had a conversation about the nature of gods with Gale. Cute. Aww they're having cognitive dissonance about the nature of sentience after using speak with animals. Popped a man's head like a cherry. Shame, they could have interrogated that one."

#Fido the Bard

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addaxus · 3 months

Text

New Fortune My Ass! Part 3

Mucci returned in the late morning to retrieve Campbell's body. He wasn't alone this time: Four others rode into town with him. They all gave Clarence a filthy look as they passed. Some spat at his feet with a warning, but they only took their departed comrade up to the church cemetery—not to cause a fuss... Yet anyway.

The priest and undertaker were waiting for them with a calm disposition as if nothing were to go awry.

Clarence had watched the entire ceremony from his saloon's second-floor balcony. The burial was brief, as the kid had little history to go on about his life. After the priest delivered the final rites, Mucci and his buddies saddled horses and rode off the way past the church.

That was hours ago.

Night had long since fallen and business had been dead for the whole day. Folks in town were too frightened to even approach the front steps after what had happened there. Last night's incident had them all spooked, so no occasions were arranged it seemed. Seeing Mucci riding in with his buddies this morning probably didn't help. They all knew what it meant—Them cowboys were wanting something… Something that Campbell had spilt the moment he got a knife stuck in his gut.

Old mercenary instinct had been telling Clarence to give it all up. The fact it took him this long to finally acknowledge it didn't sit well with him. He knew things like this were bound to happen in a place for these kinds of individuals to gather at, however he'd been stubborn.

Like Rosemary always told him, “You can’t cling onto that business when there ain’t nothing good coming out of it no more!”

Just like he'd clung onto every dollar he got without giving a damn who paid the price for it, her empty words had followed.

He stopped drying off glasses for the next day because what was the point really? No use moping about all that now. Right now, Bruno was still in his room, sleeping off the liquor and anguish of the previous night. The quicker he could get upstairs, wake the kid, and get them both a horse each the quicker they could—

Mucci’s outburst shook the foundation from outside, his voice all too familiar around these rundown walls.

“LEROY!

‘Goddamnit...’

“I KNOW YOU’RE IN THERE OLD MAN! YOU AIN’T ASLEEP!”

Cautiously, Clarence dropped what he was doing and approached the front swinging doors. Peeking out over the top, he could make out five figures standing out front. He furrowed his brows and cocked back the hammer on his holstered Remington Revolver before grabbing one of the few lit lanterns off the wall and stepping through the doors.

Clarence didn’t directly look at them until he’d made himself clear that he was willing to stand his ground unfazed by their return.

“We're closed, boys. Best find somewhere else to drink for tonight. Heard the town down east by the railway has a saloon, so long as you don't mind all the folks with cholera.” He growled at the end of the sentence.

Mucci didn’t move an inch away and sneered back with a flick of his cigar butt. He smashed it beneath his boot, still glaring up at Clarence.

“Can it, old man! You know why we're here. That runt of yours has a debt to pay. Blood for Blood.”

Though his Remington Revolver was cocked and holstered, Clarence hoped he wouldn't have to use it. Things didn't need to go like how these boys were wanting it to go. Oh yes, he knew exactly what their thoughts were.

Clarence spoke up as calmly as he could.

“He's just a kid. What happened last night weren't his fault. If anything, it's my fault leaving him alone in the first place. Kid wasn't ready to handle your type of company, Mucci. So whatever grievances you boys have with Bruno should be taken up with me.”

Mucci wasn’t having any of his empty words.

“We ain't interested in you, you stubborn old bastard. Doubt you got much time left anyways. A lot less if ya don't git while ya still can!

Clarence held fast and steady. “...Is that a threat?”

Impatient, and not liking the old man's response one bit, Mucci slowly levelled a worn looking double-barrel directly at his frame.

“It's a fact, you son of a bitch. There's five of us. Now move it.”

Clarence carefully eyed each of them.

“You boys all firm on this?”

The other cowboys looked at one another and back to Clarence, unchanging in their stances. Clearly their numbers gave them confidence.

With Mucci aiming that shotgun at him, they probably figured there was nothing for them to worry about. Mucci then cocked back the hammer on one barrel.

Mucci lowly gave Clarence another word, head lowering as his eyes kept narrowed at him under the brim of his hat.

“Last chance, old man.”

With a defeated sigh, Clarence lowered his lantern and half-turned away in a feeble manner. The sight seemed to amuse the cowboys. Guess the old man had finally come to his senses… or so they thought.

“Very well...”

In a quick flash, Clarence dropped his lantern and drew out his revolver as he turned, firing a round straight at Mucci's face. The cowboy squeezed the trigger in reaction as he fell to the sand below in a heap, the gunshot echoing throughout the night.

Dead silence soon followed.

Clarence had just enough time to shoot another cowboy square in the chest as the others fled for cover. They began returning fire as Clarence moved sideways across the front, fanning his remaining shots for covering fire before diving through the window behind him. He’d fallen right back through the saloon and ducked below the boards of wood.

Once inside, Clarence took cover against the wall as he began changing out his empty cylinder with another quick refill in his belt. He fumbled with the mechanisms a few times.

’Come on, come on, sum bitch…’

That was already too much than what he was comfortable with given the situation. Still, seemed them cowboys were too spooked by his sudden shooting of their leader and fellow comrade to risk leaving their cover. Clarence gained his focus back after getting all the parts back into place.

He heard one of the cowboys shout in aggravation.

“Son of a bitch! Light the place up, boys!”

A fire bottle flew through the broken window and set the wooden floor aflame upon impact. Clarence grunted in surprise and was forced to leave his spot as the flames spread out. Another one came through the front door, blocking it with fire. He heard another one crashing through a window up top... On the second floor.

“SHIT! BOY!”

Clarence scrambled to his feet, hoping the smoke and fire would cover his movements. It was all happening quickly, especially since this old building was so dry.

Right now his main priority was getting upstairs and getting Bruno out. It would be a damn miracle if the boy had managed to sleep through all this crap. So many thoughts were running through his mind all together in this moment that he was basically running on autopilot.

Just as he started moving up the stairs, a gunshot narrowly missed Clarence, forcing him to duck. He looked out to see one of them cowboys was firing from the side window close to the bar. Clarence responded by aiming his Remington at the same time as the cowboy did. Both fired their guns and—

“AH!”

The old man managed to hit the fire bottle in the cowboy’s left hand, setting him aflame. Lucky bastard still managed to plug him in the shoulder, though, sending Clarence tumbling backwards down the stairs and out the back door. When he landed hard he clutched the wound as the hot red liquid gushed over his hand. He dipped his head to just catch his breath for one damn second.

“Shit…”

“Gawd Fawkin Dawmnit!”

Mucci was fussing, messing with his wounded jaw.

Inside the town outhouse, Mucci groaned in pain. That dirty cheating old bastard shot and mangled his right cheek. He'd managed to drag his ass into the outhouse once shit started to heat up. Gunfire continued to echo outside. Each shot made Mucci flinch, now traumatized by the impact of one.

One final shot was heard then everything went quiet. Mucci tried to keep quiet, struggling to slow his breathing. It was his only chance of getting out of this mess alive. All he had to do was wait for LeRoy to come close and then he'd—

The outhouse door opened suddenly, bursting the wood from itself on one side. Mucci instinctively reached for his revolver... Only to feel nothing there. His holster was empty. The cowboy’s blood went cold as he realized he was staring at the business end of his own revolver.

Mucci cried in disbelief. “No!”

A thumb pulled back the hammer.

“NOOO!”

The cowboy could only stare in horror as two vacant eyes stared back before flashing green in a split second.

BLAM!

The next two shots rang on dead ears.

BLAM! BLAM!

Hearing the shots, Clarence, still clutching at the wound in his left shoulder, ran towards the source, leaving the last two cowboys where they laid. Seeing the outhouse door open, he looked inside to find a dead Mucci sitting upon the shitter. He was slumped over with eyes as wide as saucers like he’d seen the devil himself.

Seems his first shot only mangled the cowboy’s cheek, allowing him to sneak off into the outhouse unnoticed. Closer inspection revealed three fresh bullet wounds in his midsection. But who...

The sound of ragged quick breathing caught his attention. Clarence closed the door and looked around the side to see Bruno leaning against the outhouse wall. Quickly, Clarence holstered his Remington before kneeling down in front of the kid, who simply stared off into nothing, head low and trembling. What the hell happened?

Clarence extended his hand to his shoulder to try and gently snap him out of his trance.

“Bruno! You okay? Say something!”

Bruno didn't respond, but he looked up slowly. His eyes simply stared at the bullet wound in Clarence's left shoulder before drifting down. Following the boy’s gaze, Clarence saw the revolver clutched tightly within his right hand. That hand was shaking like someone had taken it and shocked him. The smell of gunpowder along with the fresh corpse inside the outhouse told him everything.

“FIRE!”

“GET THE WELL WATER, QUICK!”

“WE GOTTA PUT IT OUT BEFORE THAT INFERNO SPREADS!”

Clarence's gaze turned towards the townsfolk frantically trying to put the flames out. He finally was able to see the entire scene from his place by the outhouse. The whole saloon was completely up in flames. Place may as well have been built with kindling.

Their panic was well warranted, though he personally had no more attachment to the place. A fire like that could indeed spread. They would need all the help they could get to save what little Nuevo Fortuna had.

“Stay here, Bruno. I have to go help.”

The kid only gave a slight nod. It would have to do. Clarence stood up and looked back once, then caught up with the townsfolk. Despite the current condition of his shoulder, he still managed to fill and carry a bucket of water towards the fire at the nearest trough.

It was on his third or fourth run that Clarence looked back towards the outhouse again. What he saw caused the old man to drop his full bucket right there as it splashed everywhere.

Bruno wasn't there.

“BRUNO!”

Some distance away, the town stable doors were opened sloppily. Inside, a frantic, muttering mess of a kid saddled up the first dark horse he saw and rode off. He didn't realize the revolver was still in his hand until he ended up far off into desert wastes. By morning, the boy was still nowhere to be found.

#encanto #unforeseen: the fable of el ojos diablos #writing sample #see if y’all can spot the parallel ;)

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