#ain't no one takin' nothin' from him again

[sentanixiv]

Thieves Landing... MacFarlane said they was holed up here. This ain't the way to sort being robbed, John. No one steals from my family, Arthur. Not no more.

I'll handle these fools. All's I need's you to watch my back. You ain't never had to ask, Marston.

John! Keep yer goddamned head down! Sonofabitch!

You hit? I'm fine, but this asshole's about to dance with the devil!

Y'all' ain't gonna mess with us again, y'hear? Or I'll come back and shoot the rest of you!

[urfavnegronerd]

agape- nicholas britell

summary: miles is takin down ur braids 

published: july 27, 2023

warnings: Grammarly hates me, the patriarchy, a dash of toxic masculinity, miles being a product of that grrah grah boom type masculinity, aave (no im not translating shit for you yall got access to urban dictionary and its not really a warning), i edited it myself so lmk if there are any mistakes

sueñito- little dream, bonito- handsome/ pretty boy, no me importa- i don't care/ it's not important to me

w/c: 1.5 k

reader's black coded cus im black so deal w it <3

i think this something every black boy be needin deep down

“Stop movin, ma” 

“It’s knotty,” 

“You had these in for how long?” 

Silence. 

“There's your answer right there, mama,”  

“Sorry,” 

“Nun to be sorry for, just hold still,” 

Currently sitting on the bathroom floor criss-cross apple sauce, Miles was sitting on the toilet, your head between his knees, while he was taking down the frizzy lemonade braids that barely hugged your scalp anymore. 

“Miles?” 

He hums in response, rat tail comb in one hand, a tub of coconut oil in the other, threading the tail of the comb through the extensions down your back  

“You’re the prettiest boy in all of Brooklyn,” 

“Shut up” 

“Prettiest boy I’ve ever seen,” 

“Nuh-uh,” 

“Fuck you mean ‘nuh uh’? The little freckles all over your cheeks? Cutest things I’ve ever seen, especially how they’re all slightly different shades, like lil polka dots all over your face, gives me a map a’ where to kiss. The little tiny dimple on the left side of your face? Adorable, 10/10, no notes. Also very kissable." He's still now, staring at the back of your head, using bundles strewn over his shoulder, mouth agape. “Them thick and long ass eyelashes? I could stare at ‘em all day, they look like teeny tiny butterfly wings when you rest your eyes.” 

“Shut up,” he whispers, still unmoving, the little dab of coconut oil on his fingers slowly dribbling down his wrist 

“Your mind pretty as hell, too, I like listening to what you have to hear when you let me,” you mumble, pressing tiny kisses into his cargo pant–clad kneecap. 

“Stop doin that shit, ma” 

“What?” 

“Talkin all crazy like that,” 

“I’m not talkin crazy, miles I’m being honest,” 

“You makin me out to be some weak ass lil boy,” 

“Miles.” you turn around abruptly, staring at him dead in the eye. “I’m jus being honest wit you. What's going on?” 

“It’s nothin, ma, turn around”  

“Sueñito. Lemme know what's up,” 

“It’s nothin,” 

You huff, turning around to face the bottom of the sink again. Silence bellows throughout the bathroom, Miles rubbing oil on your braids to detangle them to later drag the comb in once again and throw the discarded hair extension over his shoulder. The only sound between the two of you is the Marvin Gaye spinning on the record player, rooms away, dull basslines thrumming through the apartment. 

“Ion like this,” 

“What?” 

“Whatever jus happened, we talk about what's bothering us,” 

“Ain't nothin botherin me, ma,” 

“Then why you start buggin' the second I get to complimenting you?” 

“Cus ian wit all that girly shit,” 

“Fuck you mean girly shit, I’m jus tryna love up on you Miles,” your nostrils flare as you stare ahead of you.  

“Baby, I’m all for that but–” 

“Miles, did someone tell you boys can't get that?” 

A silence. 

“Baby.” 

“What?” 

“Jus cus you a boy dont mean you don't deserve love,” 

“Aint nobody say allat–” 

“Shut up Ian done,” you say, swiftly turning around and snagging the oil and comb from his hand “jus cus you a boy doesn't mean you don't deserve to feel shit miles. Ion know what it was like wit your last girl, but Ian her. Okay? You allowed to be a person wimme, you know that right?” 

“Ma–” 

“Shut up I still ain't done yet. Miles I’m real, I’m right here. real like you, I promise you I’m not goin nowhere right now,” 

“You done?” 

“Yeah,”  

“C’mere,” he motions to his lap, taking the comb and oil out of your hands and setting them on the tiled floor, laying out the discarded bundles.  

“ ‘s oil all up on my hands” 

“No me importa ma, come up on here,”  

Obeying and wiping the excess coconut oil off your hand, you do. Straddling his lap, and looking into his eyes, examining the twinge of sadness in his eyes. 

“Talk to me, mama,” 

“I want you to know that you deserve love and that you’re allowed to feel some typa way. I want you to talk to me, Miles. I care about you so much and I wanna make sure you’re good. I love hearing you talk, but Ion like havin to beg you to talk to me. I love jus bein in your presence, but I hate feelin like that Miles. I don’t know who told you whatever's going through your head right now but they dead wrong. I wanna know how you be feelin, I wanna know.” 

“Why you even talk like this to me?” 

“Cus I’m your girl, n I like to kiss up on you and love all up on you,” 

At this, he averts his eyes, trying to escape your gaze, his breath audibly speeding up. 

“Mm mm, don't do that Miles. Please breathe,” 

You plead, subconsciously pressing your middle three fingers under his jaw trying to measure his heart rate. Almost as a reflex to hide from you, he shrugs your hand away from under his jaw and pulls his hoodie over his mouth.

“Nah nah, don't hide from me neither,”  

“Ain’t nobody hidin from you,” 

“Jus cus you a boy don’t mean you don't deserve them random ass cuddles, or someone to tie up your durag or wash your hair. It don’t mean you shouldn't get flowers or hugs or them lil hickies behind your ear. Don't mean you not allowed to be sad or mad or wanna cry. Now Ion know who told you or made you feel that way but they dead wrong Miles. You allowed to feel with me,” 

“Ian some lil boy runnin around though, that shit ain't for me,” 

“If you wasn't supposed to feel and acknowledge your feelings, why would you be able to feel them? They there for a reason,” 

Still straddled on his lap, he looks up at you with the tiny leverage you have on him. His eyes are big and doe-like, almost as if he’s scared to make this next step, say this next sentence.” 

“Ion know why,” he mumbles, voice soft and scared. suddenly he’s kissin up on you, gripping anything he can get his hands on, like he’s making up for lost time, lost feelings. It's urgent and a little rough, though his lips are soft and velvety, a twinge of menthol chapstick on them.  

“Yo yo yo, slow down. Ian goin nowhere” you whisper into his mouth, nails gently raking across his neck “ ‘m right here Miles, see?” you ask, guiding his hands to feel on the left side of your chest, right above your heart. “ ‘s my heart under there, I'm right here okay? I’m real, Miles I swear,” 

“You’re real?” he whispers, breath shaky and uneven fisting the thin fabric of your camisole under the evergreen zip-up, in an attempt to feel more of your heart. 

“You allowed to feel your feelings the same way you feel my heart,” 

He still looks astonished, scared, and frozen. suddenly it wasn’t him you were talking to anymore. it was the scared little Brooklyn boy who had all these feelings stored away inside him, unsure of what to do or who to show them to.  

“ ‘m sitting right here miles. I’m your girl, okay? This is real, and you are real,” 

“I’m real?” tears begin to swim in his eyes. 

“You’re real miles. and those feelings in that big heart of yours? Those are real too. And if you let me, I wanna hear all of 'em.”  

His body stills once more against you, a small tear gliding down his cheek. 

“I love you,” 

And then he’s sobbing. 

“Sshh, hey it's okay” you whisper, holding him close to your chest. “I love you so much I can’t hardly breathe when I'm around you. It’s okay and you're okay, Miles. I’m real and this is real and you. You are real.” you mumble into his braids, holding him with the protectiveness of a mother with a small child. 

He just sat there, his head buried in your chest as he cried quietly, letting everything out. You just sat and let him cry and vent through his tears. All the things he had bottled up, discouraged to show to anyone. Sooner or later the tears slow to a stop, his face puffy and hot. 

Gently tugging the ends of his braids, he looks up at you. 

“You feel better sueñito?” you ask, dragging the cuff of your sweater to dry his face and pressing butterfly kisses to his cheeks in its wake. He did nothing but nod lazily, seemingly lighter, and nuzzling his face into your chest. 

“Lemme finish wiping up your face n then you can be all up on me, bonito, okay? 

He just nodded, dropping his head back to rest against the bathroom wall, the half-taken-out braids on your scalp no longer th task at hand. Reaching behind him you grab a baby wipe and swipe the tears and snot off his face, leaving his skin with a glossy finish. Holding his chin up, you look dead in his eyes. 

“You so beautiful Miles.” 

And this time, he nods. 

🩷 reblogs are always appreciated for reach <3

[writtenjewels]

One Bed night 2

Night One

Jason was usually not a morning person, but he made an exception. He rolled out of bed and hurried to the bathroom before Salim could fully wake up. Jason knew that morning wood was perfectly normal and experienced it plenty of times, there was no reason this time was any different. Still, he preferred to get it taken care of quickly. He took a cold shower and saw Salim was out of bed waiting his turn.

“Good morning,” Salim greeted him.

“Mornin',” Jason returned. “You takin' advantage of that free breakfast, too?”

“Naturally.” Salim gave him a smile. “I'll join you after I shower. If you didn't use all the hot water, of course.”

“It's all yours,” Jason assured him. He started rummaging through his luggage for an outfit.

He and Salim clicked together so well. In a way, it didn't surprise him. Once he got over his initial distrust, he and Salim had been a great team in the catacombs. They fought in sync, could match each other's banter, and even divulged personal pain. Jason hadn't even hesitated before opening up to the guy. There was something about him that made it easy for Jason to trust him.

Last night, they chatted and laughed in bed together like it was normal for them to share such an intimate space. Jason figured there was some error that gave them one bed instead of two, but didn't see a need to bring that up to the front desk. After all they went through together, sharing a bed was nothing.

The two headed out for the day. Breakfast was good, made better by Salim's dumb jokes and occasional teasing. Jason wanted to go on different tours, so they agreed to meet up again at lunch. It was a pretty fun day. Jason liked blowing CENTCOM's money on enjoying himself and buying souvenirs for his family. At lunch he and Salim took turns discussing their tours. After a while, Jason just listened. He loved listening to Salim ramble excitedly about things. It was pretty endearing.

Jason decided to spend the rest of the afternoon with Salim—he wanted to see the man's reaction to different historical things in person. He remembered how delighted Salim was while figuring out the alien console, and bit his lip to stop from grinning any time that same look crossed the other man's face. He loved this side of Salim.

They came back to the room after dinner. Jason couldn't help laughing as Salim started gathering his sleeping clothes. “Don't tell me you're turning in already,” Jason teased.

“No. I just like being comfortable once I'm settled for the night.”

“It's not even nine,” Jason persisted with a snort. “You don't go out to drink or nothin'?”

“I was drafted into the army as soon as I turned eighteen,” Salim explained, “and Maysa got pregnant soon after. The last time I did anything crazy was when I was about sixteen, when I pierced my ears.”

“You did what?!” Jason gaped. He moved forward, leaning in to take a look for himself. Sure enough, he could see faint piercing scars in the lobe of Salim's ear. “Holy shit. You little rebel.” Salim was holding very still, watching Jason from the corner of his eye. “What's wrong?” Jason wondered.

“Nothing.” Salim lifted a finger and tapped Jason's cheek. “Freckles.”

“Oh, yeah.” Jason gently brushed the finger away. “I get those pretty easy. It's why I had to wear a hat.” He only noticed then how close he stood to Salim. Something about being in Salim's personal space made Jason's heart beat a little faster, and he quickly took a step back. “What do you wanna watch tonight?” he asked to change the subject.

“No need to keep me company if you want to go out drinking,” Salim said. Jason answered with a one shoulder shrug.

“It ain't fun to drink alone.” He had also discovered that this place was much more fun with Salim there to enjoy it with him. Jason ordered room service and the two settled in to watch television.

It was the end of a great day. Jason brushed his teeth while Salim got dressed, then they switched. Jason hadn't teased Salim for his choice in sleep wear last night but he was tempted this time. The guy wore sweats and a T-shirt with some text. Jason wasn't at all surprised that the text was a pun joke.

“You're such a nerd,” he chuckled after reading the shirt.

“You laughed at the joke,” Salim pointed out. “That makes you a nerd, too.” Jason conceded the point. He'd been the one to make a Shakespeare joke to himself down in the catacombs, after all.

The two got into bed and Jason immediately rolled so he was facing Salim, propping his head using an elbow. “You got any tattoos?”

“No.” Salim rolled and mimicked Jason's pose. “I wasn't allowed.”

“But gettin' your ears pierced was fine?”

“Not really.” A mischievous smile spread over Salim's lips. “My parents nearly had a heart attack when they saw what I did.”

“So you've always been a little shit,” Jason teased. Salim gave him a look and a gentle shove. Jason almost lost his balance. He reached out and grabbed onto Salim's shoulder at the last minute. Their eyes locked and for a moment Jason lay there with his fingers gripping onto Salim's shirt. Salim let his arm drop, stretching it so it was above Jason's head.

“Have you always been such a brat?”

“Probably,” Jason shrugged. “I think you like it, though.”

“Probably,” Salim agreed. His fingers brushed Jason's hair so lightly he almost didn't feel it. Jason's fingers tightened a little against Salim's shirt. “We should get drinks,” Salim mused.

“Now?” Jason's voice cracked in disappointment. He was comfortable here and didn't want to break the almost-embrace.

“Tomorrow,” Salim corrected. “It's been a long time since I had a night out. It might be fun.”

“Sure,” Jason agreed. “Let's do it.”

They fell quiet. After a while, the sound of Salim's steady breathing and the light touches of his fingers in Jason's hair lulled the marine to sleep.

[boygiwrites]

Harley D. Dixon 37

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📖Chapter List.

Author's Note.

— TW: OFF-SCREEN TORTURE. NON-CONSENSUAL KISS INVOLVING CHILD.

Hey, everyone :) Please be mindful that this chapter is pretty intense. If what's listed in the TWs isn't something you're comfortable reading, kindly skip this chapter and read the end notes for a summary.

A few hours later, once the sun begins to sink below the windowsill and turn the room orange, the front door slams shut.

I can't see him from where I'm curled up in the cramped space between the sofa and the wall, crying and sniffling into my hands, but I can tell it's Merle just by the weight of his footsteps and the sound of him dumping his keys on the kitchen counter. He calls out for me — "Harley? Why's the door unlocked?" — but I keep my mouth shut, 'cause I know he's gonna find me, anyway.

His boots appear in my line of sight, stopping before he sighs to himself. "Aw, shit."

As he crouches down in front of me, I rub the wetness from my eyes and bravely meet his gaze. He always hates it when I cry, but he especially hates it when I don't look him in the eye. It's one of the many, random things he finds disrespectful.

"What's wrong?" He asks, lookin' more confused than anything. "C'mon, cry-baby. What happened?"

"There was a man in here," I whisper, watching his expression turn to stone.

"Like Hell there was."

"He had keys," I continue frantically. "I wasn't gonna let him in, I swear. He said his name was Philip and—"

"Of course it was fuckin' Philip."

"—And he said he was gonna cut Daddy's th-throat open if I didn't tell him where our group is," I exclaim.

"And did ya?"

"I ain't told him shit, but he said he'd be back!"

While I was sitting here, waiting for Merle to return, I thought about climbing out the window or leaving through the front door to go and help Dad and Glenn, but I'll admit it. I got scared, and this hiding spot seemed a lot more appealing than out there.

He pins me with a meaningful look. "Ya say he only talked to ya?"

"Uh-huh," I sniffle, nodding.

"He ain't done nothin' else?"

I shake my head, tears quickly gathering in my eyes again. "He said he'd cut his throat open, Merle! I'm worried about 'em!"

As soon as the words come outta my mouth, I catch him trying not to roll his eyes. "Girl, I left you with a box of snacks and all the movies a kid could ever want, and now you're all upset? Come on, now. You ain't already know what was gonna happen?"

I knew we weren't gonna be popular here, but I ain't thought anybody would get they throat cut!

Glaring at him, I ask, "What, and you did?"

"Jesus." He looks down at his boots, chewing on his cheek before he meets my gaze again. "Yeah, I knew, okay?"

"And you let—?"

"I told you. My hands are tied," He explains, lowering his voice. "I ain't the golden child that makes all the decisions here. But like I said, I went to see yer Dad. And for yer information, yer Uncle Merle's the only reason he's got food and water right now."

Oh. Great. Dad's gonna get murdered in a cellar, but at least he's got food and water.

He adds, "I ain't yer enemy, here, alright?"

"He don't need food and water," I say, offended he thinks that's what any of us want. "We need to go home!"

"Wanna tell me where that is, then? End all'a this?"

That shuts me up.

Conflicted, I stare him down, knowing I won't say it. Despite everything, I can't. I know it'd be the wrong thing to do.

"Okay." He grins sarcastically. "So, we're gonna go with my plan, then. Good to know."

"What is your plan?"

"To not let ya Daddy get killed. So, get up," He reaches out for me, grabbing my arm and forcing me to my feet. "He's refusin' to say anythin' until we prove you're alright, so now we gotta take a lil' field trip back down to the blocks together. Let's go."

I gasp as he drags me over to the front door. "I get to see Dad?" 

"He's holdin' a guard at gunpoint as we speak, so, yeah. They're takin' him serious."

As he grabs his keys, I ask, "Was you there when he did that?"

"Nah. I just talked to him a lil' bit a few hours ago. Was out by the gates when they told me to come get ya."

"Wait."

I suddenly come to a stop, diggin' my heels into the carpet so he can't drag me any further.

He turns to look at me. "What?"

Feeling proud of myself, I decide, "I'm only lettin' ya take me to see Dad if you promise to let Glenn see a doctor."

If Dad's allowed to threaten people to get what he wants, so do I.

"Like I can't just throw ya over my shoulder, anyway," He jokes. "Ya weigh about as much as a tin of beans."

"I'll kick and scream the whole way," I warn him, and I'm dead serious.

Merle considers me for a moment, before he sighs in defeat and pulls the door open. "Fine."

"Yes!"

"Let's go."

The five-minute walk from Merle's apartment to the abandoned building leaves me with just enough time for my anxiety to settle back into my bones, though I guess it never really left, always a firm sediment permanently fixed to the bottom of my stomach.

My palms begin to sweat as we approach the cellar doors, feeling like I'm about to jump off a tall building.

When Merle knocks on them, they're opened from the other side by an angry-lookin' man who gestures for us to enter.

Oh, man, I think to myself as we descend the concrete steps, our movements echoing loudly off the walls, It's cold down here. The light slips away as the doors close behind us, reminding me of the hundreds of tunnels in the depths of the prison, where even the sun and the fresh air can't reach. I feel a chill creep up my skin as I huddle closer behind Merle, afraid of the guards' lingering gazes.

"Bring her in here," Dad's distant voice echoes. "Bring her in here right now, or this bastard loses his brains!"

I think of Merle's apartment as we make our way down the long corridor.

It's strange to think that he lives just around the corner from this nightmare, as if the flower beds let him forget about it.

"They're comin'!" A guard shouts back at Dad. "Don't shoot!"

With each door we pass, I wonder, Is that the one?

Until we come to a stop at the very last door, and Merle gives a meaningful look to the guard standing outside it. This is it.

"So, you're that psycho's daughter," The stranger muses to himself in distaste, before he grabs the doorknob and pushes it open.

The very first thing I see is my Dad standing in the middle of the room, holding a man to his chest with a gun to his head. His whole body tenses, posturing himself for a fight, fingers clenching around the grip, before he realizes that it's just me.

"Harley," He exhales with his whole chest and throws the gun to the ground, running up to me.

I wrap my arms around him as the guard makes a noise of relief, snatching up his gun and scrambling outta the room.

The door slams shut behind him.

"Harley," He says again, pulling back and cupping my face in his dirty hands. "Fuck. Them bastards told me they—..."

"I'm alright," I assure him with a shake of my head, but I ain't as relieved as he is, not even enough to return the small smile on his lips, the tender, beaten expression on his face. He's— He looks worse than he ever has. His nose is bent the wrong way like it belongs to a different person, leaking fresh blood onto the already dried, tacky blood caked onto his upper lip. It tracks lines back up his pinkened cheeks, looking like reverse tears, pooling into his hairline as if they had him hanging upside down. "A-are you okay?"

Remembering what the scary man said, I check his neck. There's no slice or mark from a blade, but there are colorful bruises blooming in a line over his Adam's apple that look a bit like the milky way galaxy. It's awful. I think he must've been strangled. 

"Don't worry about me," He croaks, touching his fingers to the browned, purple skin. "It's nothin'."

"Daddy, I don't like this anymore," I desperately confess. "At first, I thought it was gonna be okay because Merle was with us, and he said they was only gonna question ya, but now they're sayin' they gonna kill ya, and we can't go hom—"

"Shh," He croons. "Shhhh, no, no, no."

Gently, he leads me over to the blanket crumpled up against the wall, sitting down on it and setting me in his lap.

"Shh. No more of that," He whispers, leaning his chin on the top of my head, too weak to talk any louder. "You been at Merle's?"

Yeah. Let's talk about something else.

Staring at a stain on the floor, I answer, "We talked and he left for a while, so I watched a movie."

His chest rumbles beneath me as he chuckles, his breath warm on my scalp, before I feel him shudder, sniffle.

Oh. I realize he's crying quietly to himself.

"Movie, huh?" He eventually murmurs, his voice thin and shaky. "That's real good. That's good, baby. Which one?"

Whatever they told Dad they was doing to me, it must've been bad. It might've even been that they was cuttin' my throat open, because if I heard that Dad was had only been watching movies this whole time, I'd be just as relieved. But it ain't true.

Ignoring the bruises on his arm, I say, "Somethin' with a lotta gun fights."

"It weren't that corny one with the robot-soldiers he always liked, was it?"

"I think it was."

"Well, that's worse'un anythin' they been puttin' me through," He jokes, sniffing wetly. His breath hitches before he groans and coughs something thick and red onto the floor. I feel his muscles loosen as he sighs heavily. "Used to hate it when he put that shit on."

A fat, white tooth sits in the middle of the puddle of blood like a pearl.

"He got cartoons, too," I add, hoping he finds it a little bit funny. "Got a whole bunch of 'em."

"Remind me to bring that up later, huh?"

"Shit!"

I flinch.

At the sound of Glenn's muffled cry coming from the other side of the wall, I straighten, calling out, "Glenn?"

"Harley?" He shouts back, panicked. "Oh, my G— You animals! Let her go!"

"She's with me," Dad cuts him off sternly. "She's alright."

"Oh. Oh, thank God. Are you guys safe?"

"There's nobody else in here wit'us, if that's what'chu mean."

I hear a door slam shut.

"What's that?" Dad asks him. "You alone, too?"

"It was some guy," He groans, and I imagine him sitting with his back against Dad's, with only the wall to separate us from each other and it makes me feel a little better. "He wrapped gauze around my thigh and gave me some pills. Hope it wasn't poison."

"I threatened Merle on the way here, Glenn," I proudly tell him. "He promised me he'd let you see a doctor."

"He didn't look like any doctor I've ever seen," He jokes. "But thank you, Harley. That was kind."

"Smart," Dad agrees fondly. "Guess I'm sorry I ain't thought of it."

"It's alright, man," Glenn says. "If it was me who had that guard at gunpoint, I would've asked to see Harley, too."

I ask, "It still hurt?"

"Uh. No. No, don't worry." It's easy to tell he's lying. "I feel better already."

"We gotta get the fuck outta here," Dad grumbles lowly because he can tell, too, but nobody says anything else after that.

It's a little difficult with all the gray, concrete walls and the single lightbulb hanging down from the ceiling by a thin, red wire, but I imagine I'm in the forest. Any forest. It's where I'd be all the time if I could. I'm in the forest and I can see the sky, clear and blue above me, reminding me that I have nothing to worry about because maybe I'm a leaf on a bush or a thorny flower, blowing softly in the breeze. 

I can't picture the smaller details, but that's alright. All that matters is that I can see the sky.

The forest blows away like sand in the wind when the door opens.

Lifting my head from my Dad's shoulder, I blink away the grogginess that sticks behind my eyes, adjusting to the dim light of the room. I must've fallen asleep, dreaming about clouds. I think for a moment that I'm in my old bedroom again, curled up in Dad's lap after he drifted off while reading me a bed time story, but I'm quickly reminded of where I am when Philip's voice fills the room.

"I almost thought you were a total monster," He says as I turn to look at him. "But you're just a Dad."

He slowly stalks into the room, smiling nicely as a guard follows him in and closes the door.

"There's always two sides to a person." He comes to a stop just a few feet from us. "She looks just like you. I didn't notice until now."

Dad's fingers curl tighter around me, glaring up at the man through his brows, saying nothing.

"Hm?" Philip chirps with a little shrug. "What's the matter, Daryl? Not in the mood to spit on my face again?"

"I will be," He rasps lowly, "Once y'all take Harley back to my brother's."

"Back to your brother's? I think I remember you threatening to kill one of my men unless we brought her in here." His smile grows into a friendly grin, flashing his perfectly clean teeth at us. His hair, gray and healthy, hangs down in the shapes of crescent moons against his temples, like it's come loose in a fight — The only imperfection to his neat appearance. "She can stay. Tell me, how old is she?"

"Take Harley back to my brother's," Dad warns him again, voice dropping into a growl.

"I'd say she looks eight. Maybe nine," Philip guesses. "You know, that's around my daughter's age."

Slowly, my Dad stands up, matching the man's height. "This ain't got nothin' to do with her. You got a kid, you'll understand."

"I've also got a town to keep safe. If you were a leader, you'd understand." He retorts calmly, nodding to the table. "Now, sit."

The guard leaning against the wall smirks at us.

Breathing harshly, nostrils flared, Dad glances down at me. We have to do as he says. Realizing this, he grabs my hand and we carefully make our way over to the round table in the middle of the room, the glow of the light bulb lending it a soft, yellow hue. 

I sit down in the closest chair, Dad taking the one opposite mine as Philip takes up the head of the table.

As we sit together in an uncomfortable silence, I notice I was wrong.

Philip's unkempt hair is far from his only imperfection — I just had to see him under a better light for them to make themselves known, like noticing a scuff on a window only when the sun hits it, or peeling back a bandage to reveal a hideous wound. I begin to squirm anxiously, unable to take my eyes off him. His forearms are littered with tiny droplets of blood, red freckles against the beige of his clean skin, a large splotch smeared over the glass of his expensive watch, still tick, tick, ticking away with each second that passes.

Strangely, his tie is still perfectly straight.

"Let me tell you this, Daryl." He doesn't take his eyes off Dad, and Dad doesn't take his eyes off him, matching his cool gaze with an impossibly hot, angry one. If he could, he'd tackle this man to the ground. Philip leans back in his chair, looking like he enjoys Dad's obvious struggle. "I don't want to hurt your daughter. I've done a lot of things for this town, but hurting children isn't one of them."

"Daryl?" Glenn shouts from the other room, earning only silence. "Daryl, is Harley still in there?"

"But if you make me hurt her," He continues cooly, "I won't have any problems with that."

Glancing down, I watch Dad's knuckles turn white as he claws anxiously at his thighs.

"Harley, can you hear me? Are you okay?"

"Like I said." His smile turns smug. "There's always two sides to a person."

"Harley?"

I want to answer Glenn, but I'm scared that if I do, it might make Philip angry. I can't make Philip angry.

"I already told you when you was beatin' my face in earlier," Dad mutters angrily. "They cut us loose months ago."

"No, that story's not gonna cut it anymore," Philip sighs in frustration. "Your brother told me he had a chat with your daughter and that she said your group is probably worried about where you've been all day. How can those two things be true at once?"

I see the breath leave Dad's body, defeat taking over his expression. Oh, no. I messed up. I messed it all up.

"You know kids. They never lie."

When Philip looks at me, my whole body stiffens.

I ruined Dad's story. I—I didn't mean to give anything away, I swear. I didn't even know I was giving anything away when I was talking to my Uncle Merle. Stupid, stupid, stupid girl. How could I have not realized he and Glenn were probably gonna lie?

"So, now that we've got that out in the open — Here's how this is gonna go."

Dad won't look at me, but I wish he would so that he could see I'm sorry.

"I'm going to ask you three times where your people are." Philip leans forward, resting his forearms on the table. "The first two times, you're going to tell me to go fuck myself, or to go to Hell, or what-not. But the third time, you're going to tell me."

I flinch as a dull thud comes from the other side of the wall, Glenn crying out in pain.

Philip doesn't flinch at all. "Where are your people?"

Shaking his head in disgust, my Dad lets out a weak, sarcastic chuckle. "Go fuck yourself. My daughter doesn't need to be here."

Nodding, Philip simply asks again, "Where are your people?"

Glenn cries out again in the silence that follows, and again, and again, the blunt sounds of a fist coming down on his body making me flinch each time as if I'm the one being hit. It's such an awful thing to listen to, but Dad's refusing to fill the silence and Philip seems more than happy to let us stew in it. I feel like I've been tied to this chair, unable to move, but it's just his presence that's keeping me down.

"Okay," Philip mutters after a minute or two, taking a deep breath, and reaching for his holster.

My Dad's eyes go wide, and that's the last thing that happens before Philip's pointing a gun at my head. My blood runs cold. Oh. I stare into the barrel. It's a single, black eye staring straight into mine, a slender finger resting on the trigger.

Don't move, Harley, I tell myself, even though my hands are shaking, And it'll be okay.

"This will be the last time," He says. "Where are your people?"

Squeezing my eyes shut, a tear slips down my cheek.

When I open them again, my Dad is looking at me. I don't think I've ever seen him look this scared, not even when our house got robbed when I was seven, or when Merle sniffed all that powder and broke a window, or when Tank got injured. He's never scared. If I could tell ya one thing about my Dad, it's that. He's the bravest, toughest person I know, who right now, looks absolutely terrified.

He's gonna tell him, I think, already mourning the moment he does. He's gonna tell him.

Sniffling, swallowing down whimpers, I hope he can tell that I won't be angry at him for it. Rick wouldn't be, neither.

"Meriweather County prison."

A hiccup escapes me. My chest violently shudders, filled with heavy dread. He told him.

None of us are safe, anymore. Not even Judith. We're— We're gonna have to move, or hide,— O-or maybe we can't do anything. Maybe when they come and take everything we own and all the people I love are dead, I'll think of this moment.

"That's where they are," He adds, quiet, ashamed.

Philip's smile returns.

"Look at that. I could just get him to do anything like this, couldn't I, Harley?" He chuckles, but I just can't stop crying, not even if I hold my breath like my Daddy taught me how, or if I imagine something nice, something that isn't a gun pointed at my head, or my Dad's bruised face, or the guard standing in the corner, watching this play out. "Your big, strong Dad. Have you ever seen him dance?"

"Just stop," I beg him. "Ya wanted to know where our group was, and he— he told ya. Just s-stop."

"C'mon, Daryl." He grins at him, ignoring me. "Stand up. Give us a little dance while you're feeling so compliant."

My Dad reluctantly rises from his seat, and I wish I didn't have to watch. I want to tell him, it's alright, because that's what he would tell me. This whole thing is almost over. Just do as he says. After standing there for a moment, embarrassed, looking at the floor, he starts to awkwardly do the hustle. The sound of his boots shuffling against the floor fills the room and somehow it's crueller than watching him be punched or kicked or strangled because at least then, I could see the thing that's being broken and it would be dignified.

Philip's chuckling to himself, enjoying the show. I feel the overwhelming urge to ask him what the Hell is wrong with him.

"It's like being at one of my daughter's ballet recitals all over again," He laughs. "I'd like to see a spin, Daryl."

Glancing at the gun again, my Dad defeatedly spins in a circle, his expression twisted up in shame.

I think he wishes I didn't have to watch, too.

When he comes to a stop, Philip's laughter dies out, smile lingering like a thin ripple after a tall wave.

He looks at me. "I want you to remember this the next time he says he can protect you. Will you do that for me?"

"I hate you," I seethe through my tears.

"Harley," Dad hisses in desperation, his eyes darting between me and Philip. "Harley, shut the fuck up."

"I hate you."

"Well, that's not nice," Philip croons. I hate him so much. No, I will not remember this the next time Dad says he can protect me. My Dad is brave. He's tough. That ain't gonna change just 'cause this bully humiliates him while he hides behind his gun, too much of a pussy to pick on somebody his own size. I hate, hate, hate him. "'If you don't have anything nice to say'... You know how it goes."

"You're a bully," I spit, feeling the anger simmer up into my face. "You're a crazy, stupid bully and you should die."

"Harley," Dad warns me again. "Harley, baby, please."

"You gonna shoot me like y'all shot my friend, Glenn? Huh?"

"When I shoot you, I won't be doing anything your Dad hasn't already," He tells me. "You're forgetting why you're here."

"We're here 'cause my Dad shot some feller who was tryna kill us!" I shout at him, ignoring the way my Dad keeps begging me to, shut up, Harley. Please, shut up. "And you told me you ain't even liked him, so you can shut the fuck up about it!"

"Are you done?"

"Just leave us the Hell alone, already!" I squeal, furious, panting. "I just— We just— We wanna go h-home."

Whenever I shouted at my Dad or Uncle Merle like this, I'd forget about myself right up until my anger bubbled down and the room went quiet, my heartbeat drumming against my skull the only thing I could hear. Then, everything would become clear to me again, and the anger quickly cooled like a red metal being dunked in a bucket of water, hardening into fear. We would stare each other down for a minute or two, huffing and puffing like offended bulls in a fighting ring until one of us snapped — And it was never me. 

Here, now, Philip doesn't reach for his belt, pull it from its loops, whip it over the backs of my thighs. He doesn't grab me by the ear and bring my face close to his, lecturing me on manners while I nod for every word he says.

All he does is ask one last time, his voice as calm and smooth as a glass lake, "Are you done?"

Gulping, I glance around the room, as if to check it's still the same as it was before I lost my temper.

"You got what'chu wanted," My Dad reminds him. "I did what'chu asked. You know you ain't got no issues with my daughter."

"I do have issues with little potty-mouthed girls who can't hold their tongue," He says, raising a brow at me.

Usually, this is where I'd start babbling, Please, I didn't mean it. I was just angry. But I'm still angry. And I did mean it.

Stubbornly, I say nothing.

"Okay. Harley," He says, light as a feather. "Come and give me an apology kiss, and it'll all be forgiven."

I almost falter.

That's what he wants?

I can't stop myself from mumbling, "What?"

"You heard me."

That's right. I did hear him. A kiss?

Like what Glenn and Maggie do, because they're boyfriend-girlfriend? And Rick and Lori, because they're husband-wife?

Is-is he—? "Are you serious?"

"I don't think you should ever ask that question to a man with a gun to your head," He says smugly. Yes, he's serious.

For some reason, I glance at my Dad to get permission from him, because he'll put me in time-out for giving Philip a kiss without his say-so. It's one of them things I don't need to know all the logistics of to know — to feel — that it's wrong, but he don't look angry with me, even though he and Merle have always told me I ain't allowed to kiss a boy until I was eighteen. He just looks broken.

Looking back at Philip and the expectant look on his face, I force myself to stand from my chair.

It scr-cr-crapes painfully against the floor before I'm on my feet, creeping around the table as he keeps the gun trained on me.

Every step feels like a stride through a minefield, careful, terrifying, bracing myself for the gun to go off if I make the wrong move.

When I come to a stop in front of him, the tear clinging to my jaw slips onto my shirt, soaking through the fabric, onto my skin. It's warm. I think I hear Dad seething something under his breath as Philip leans forward and his nose almost grazes mine.

A kiss. That could also mean the type of kiss my Dad or Maggie or Carol or Lori gives me, right?

A kiss on the cheek?

"You know, in my family," He says, tapping the gun against my lips. "We used to kiss on the mouth. Must be an Italian thing."

I shy away from the cold metal, turning my head to the side as if it's a spoonful of broccoli I don't want anywhere near me. His breath is hot, fanning gently across my chin. The smell of sweat and shampoo mingles together into a thick, poisonous gas and I quicken my breathing, short and shallow pants escaping me just to stop it from entering my lungs, to make it feel a little less real.

"C'mon." He says quieter, looking at me, the little fish he knows he's got on the hook. "Aren't you sorry?"

Glancing down at his mouth — Yes. Yes, I am sorry. I'm sorry I said those things aloud.

Dad tries to talk to me like I'm the only other person in the room — "Harley Dixon, look at me," — but the guard cocks his gun.

I have to do it.

It'll only take one second.

Everything that happens in this room will stay in this room and I'll forget all about it once we're back home.

I kiss Philip on the mouth. It's quick. It's barely there. It's like I'm kissing a hot coal and I don't want to burn myself, and I'm flinching backwards, trying to will away the warm sensation on my mouth as Philip smiles, pleased. I'm gross. I'm so gross.

"That wasn't so hard." I can feel his gravelly voice all over me. I want to go home. "All's forgiven."

"You're sick," My Dad grits through his teeth, tears brimming on his lashes. "A sick motherfucker. Somethin' real wrong with you."

Unbothered, Philip stands from his chair. "I'll leave you to figure out what that is, then." 

"I wanna talk to my brother."

"See you later, Daryl."

When he and the guard leave the room and the door slams shut in our faces, a piece of me leaves with them.

Author's Notes.

— SUMMARY: A few hours after the ending of the previous chapter, Daryl is refusing to reveal any information until it can be proven to him that Harley is alright. Merle brings Harley to the blocks and she is locked in Daryl's cell with him until the Governor arrives to interrogate them.

Daryl reveals the group's location when he puts a gun to Harley's head. She gets emotional and cusses the Governor out, prompting him to force her to kiss him on the mouth as an apology.

Should I start this off by saying I'm sorry?! 😭 I'm sorry!

This was messed up. I felt very uncomfortable writing this, but I needed a traumatic event to happen to Harley while they were in Woodbury. It's part of my plan for her and Daryl's arcs this season. I hate when media throws sexual assault around as a key point in a female character's story but I just had a problem with the Governor physically torturing Harley. I feel like this is more realistic.

And don't worry about Merle. He wouldn't have let this happen if he wasn't also being threatened.

Let me know what you thought! See you next time! :)

@poetoflawed

[missbunnybunny]

Widow what shall i ever do with you.... Welcome to the short tales of Widow harrasing 141. König come get ya girl! 141 wondering how Widow is still alive after all the dumb shit she has done.

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*Random recruit*: What's that smell?

Soap: ye' smells like smoke.

Ghost: price most be smokn'.

Price: 's no me, lutenent.

*Gaz just walking in*: ya know half the is on fire, right?

*141 at the same time*: what!?!?

Ghost: Where's Widow? Fuckin' hell, WIDOW!

- Meanwhile, with Widow -

*Widow Committed arsene part 2#*: Ah, Que lindo día~ (Ah, what a beautiful day)

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Widow: i like cha, and I want cha. Now, we can do this the easy way or the hard way.

Gaz: Try all ya wan' ya ain't gettin' it, am winning.

Widow: the choice is yours.

Gaz: And am gettin' that 1st place, one more run and I win🏆.

Widow: Okay, I see you choosin' the hard way. *throws a turtle shell at him*

Gaz: Widow, come on!

Widow: na na na na~ Take that L , I win

** WINNER LUIGI 🏆**

Gaz: I so, hate ya

Widow: Love ya, too.

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*Random recruit: Am 20, so....

Widow: ur 20?!?

*stranger*: yeah....

Widow with a straight face: MF, you look 30.

*stranger*:.......

König: maus, that's rude.

Widow: I ain't takin' it back.

König: but am older than you.

Widow: I love u, so eso no vale madre pa mi.( so, I don't give a fuck, about that.)

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**Now, what is widow doing? You may ask. Well....**

*Widow with her hair down crawling on the floor, trying to scare 141*

Soap: the fuck?

Gaz: Oh Hell, Nah. Am not white! My black ass is gettin' outta here

Ghost: ya seeing things. Nothins' there, ya wusses

*Widow grabbing soaps leg & whispering*: 7 days.....

Gaz & soap: AAAHHHHH!?!?! * they scream in a high peach*

*Ghost looking down at Widow* having fun there?

*Widow cry laughing*: Yup.... I love it

Ghost: good, price is coming in 5

Widow: oh, is he. Hehehaha, 😈

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Ghost: Who the bloody hell melted, the frying pan?

Soap: How do you even melt it, that far?

Gaz: Half the pan is missing! did they use a bomb???

Widow:

............* slowly hiding behind könig*

Ghost: Widow... Why are you runn', Why are you runn'

*Widow running for her life*: am sorryyy! I don't know how it even happened.

Ghost: Widow what the fuck! * runs after her*

* Widow's war crimes against the kitchen continue. Who will win? Stay tune, until next time*

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Well, folks, this the end of my tadtalk....hope ya enjoyed. Tiktok be giving me meme and crack ideas 🤣. Until I come back from the dead and we meet again. These are just a few reasons why widow should never be allowed in a kitchen. I mean, like, NEVER!

Also, should I:

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[mooodyblue]

hiiii sorry if this is silly and too specific but if you didnt do this already can you write (short fic or headcanons it dont matter) elvis comforting his little after a nightmare ?? idk if you did this already but i've wanted to see sumthin like this since i found out about cg!elvis presley and stuffs heehee.. buuut umm if you do could you maybe use he/they pronouns or possibly bun/bunself neopronouns ?? no pressure.. also reader has a small southern twang kinda like elvis but it's less prominent.. less "howdy pardner"(vocabulary) more "well, that's somethin' " (accent) if you know what i mean (?).. sorry if this is too weird !! btw i loooovve your blog i read your blog all the time and read everyone i love it so much <3 please reply but no pressure !! /pos

a/n: i tried my hardest to be as specific as possible so i'm sorry if it didn't come out like you wanted D: thank you for the request!

pairing: 70s!elvis x little!reader(used he/they/bun pronouns)

wc: 752

-> masterlist

2 am. for some reason, elvis was still awake. it wasn't much of a surprise, he’d stay up all night and sleep all day throughout most of the week. he put you down for bed just a few hours ago, reading you a book and tucking you in per usual. last he checked, you were still snug in bed with your plushie tucked in between your arms.

he was deep in one of his books down in the living room, the lights off aside from the lamp beside him and a few nightlights he set up around graceland just for you. mary was the last to leave, wandering over to the front door and smiling over at elvis, “good night, elvis.” she said sweetly.

“night, mary. y/n still sleepin’?” he asked.

“mhm, he’s sound asleep.” she nodded.

elvis grinned, “good, good. have a good night. thank you.”

but then 2 am turned to 3 am, and he still couldn’t sleep. still buried in his book, he heard small footsteps nearing—causing him to sit up quickly, his brain not registering that it was probably you and not an intruder. “oh.” he let out a relieved sigh seeing it was just you, “it’s 3 am, baby, whatchu doin’ awake, huh?”

“can’t sleep, daddy.” you mumbled. “scary dream.”

elvis gasped, setting his book aside. “well, we can’t have that, can we? c’mere.” he opened his arms wide and allowed you to sit on his lap. he lifted you a bit to get more comfortable, pressing his lips at the top of your head. “wanna tell me what happened?”

you looked at him sadly, “a big mean man came 'n took me away from you 'n said you didn't love me." you sniffled, "i wasn't allowed t' see you ever again 'n you didn't bother lookin' for me either..."

he tsk'd, shaking his head. "oh, you poor, poor thing." his hand rubbed up and down your back gently, "y'know that ain't true, right? i do love ya."

you furrowed your brows, "you do?"

"of course!" he tapped your nose with the tip of his finger, earning a soft giggle in response. "i ain't gonna let a big, mean man come and take somethin' so precious from me."

the way you covered your face with your hands out of embarrassment made his heart swoon, a soft chuckle leaving his lips as he took ahold of your hands. "and lemme tell you somethin'—i know a big, mean man. if he ever tries to take ya away with me, y'know what i'm gonna tell him? hm?" he asked, tickling at your sides.

you let out a squeal, "what?" you asked, trying to escape from his home.

"i'm gonna tell him–"you ain't takin' them away from me. nuh uh. either bun stays with me, or you're gettin' kicked to the curb." i ain't workin' with nobody who disrespects you or tries to take you away from me. i can promise you that, honey." with a warm smile, he pressed his lips against the top of your forehead, holding you close as his way of protecting you.

"you sure, daddy?"

"ain't no way am i letting anybody come and sweep you away from me. i promise." he nodded. "it was just a bad dream. nothin' more."

you snuggled into his shoulder, your arms wrapped around him as you let out a soft yawn. he let out a soft hum, rubbing your back again. "you wanna go back to bed?" he asked, a soft mhm escaping your lips as a response. "alright, kiddo. i'll let ya sleep in my bed tonight."

he carried you up the steps and to his bedroom, laying you carefully onto his large mattress and pulling the covers over you. he tucked you in securely, kissing your cheek and turning out the light before going to make his way out of his bedroom.

"wait—"

elvis turned to look at you, "y-you not comin' to bed either?" you asked softly.

"oh." he scratched the side of his head, looking around unsurely. he was tired, but he knew he wouldn't be able to fall asleep. "i guess i can." he smiled and got under the covers with you, letting you rest your head on his chest as you snuggled into his side.

you tilted your head up to look at him, "can you read to me?"

his lips turned up slightly, picking up a book he had on his nightstand. "i thought you'd never ask."

[mechwarrior-rose]

From one mercenary to another. 🏆💳💚

💛Tell me about your ride. Your beat up Marauder.

(From @wolf-among-mechs)

Everybody always wants to talk about the Clanner side of things. Sometimes a little merc chatter is good for the soul.

This one's a little longer, so I'm droppin' it under a cut for everyone's health and well-being.

🏆 - I talked a little about Bloodnames in a prior answer--that I wanted my shot at the Hall Bloodname, but I never got it, and that now the whole thing seems a mite silly to me. But I guess I could talk more about the mess surrounding that.

Aslanbek Hall was the progenitor of the name, and they were all right. Most of those Operation KLONDIKE folks had a few wild hairs--had to, to be part of somethin' so titanically ridiculous. But Aslanbek just seemed like a normal person. The real hero of that line, to me, is Bracelen Hall. He was a nutter for sure. Test piloted over a dozen 'Mech prototypes, nearly got his face blown off a couple times by poorly-designed ammo feeds and bad capacitors and such. Then he tested Prototype A, and that was it for him. He'd found his ride. Went back into active service in a Sun Bear developed from the Prototype A model and never looked back. Barely anyone else saw the beauty of the thing, but he turned that gangly medium 'Mech into a monster on the field. Wound up commandin' Theta Galaxy. He wrote about how it was short-sighted to reward the warrior alone for victory in battle, when it was also the machine the warrior used, the technicians who tended it, the scientists who created it, the merchants who supplied them, the laborers who manufactured the parts. Bracelen was a brawler trained in a couple of martial arts forms, and he likened a victory in battle to a good punch. The punch don't come from the hand, nor even from the arm and shoulder. A good punch comes from the earth itself. The body's just a conduit for it.

When I was desperately scrabblin' for a chance to prove myself, I had it all wrong. I wanted to show my individual prowess. Now, don't get me wrong, ain't nothin' lacking in my prowess. I'm as good a fighter as any. But that ain't what it's about. It's about takin' the momentum of all the others behind you, of the techs and administrative staff and barkeeps and toilet scrubbers, everyone who's ever pushed your life a little further forward with their effort, and applyin' that momentum against a single point. Can't nothin' stand up to that. I punch a 'Mech, it ain't budgin'. But if everyone punches that 'Mech through me, well, that sonofabitch is comin' down hard. If I'd gotten that Bloodname, I never would've figured it out. I would have peaked right there, or even worse, gotten into politics to advance my career or some-such nonsense.

💳 - This one's easy, and maybe that's because my mercenary career is only a few years old. I had hitched a ride with Pandora's Box headed rimward through Marik space. I'd only been gone from Solaris for about six months. They had a down-low garrison contract on Second Chance, and I was to pay my way by spendin' a month or so runnin' patrols with them. The colonel of the planetary militia, who held the contract, was the biggest pain in my ass I'd ever experienced. And that's countin' the mob bosses I pissed off when I swindled 'em on Solaris. Of course I caught his eye. An Ebon Jaguar done up in Solaris nonsense catches anyone's eye. He split his focus between tryin' to put Pandora's Box into debt so they'd have to fold into his militia and tryin' to wheedle me out of my ride. I finally had to threaten him physically. He'd never been off-world, never seen a real Clanner before me, so I played it up just like the holovids. Lifted his scrawny ass up against the wall and shouted every half-Russian insult I could come up with, includin' a few made up for the occasion, and informed him that I was prepared to challenge his entire command to a Trial of Annihilation if he ever spoke to me again. I think the man actually pissed his pants. The mercenary commander, Colonel Black, wasn't too happy with me for potentially disruptin' her already piss-poor relationship with him, but last I knew as I was boardin' my ride off-planet, he was eatin' out the palm of her hand, and I credit that to my sterling efforts.

💚 - Clan Techs generally know better than to complain about their superiors' piloting, at least to our faces. So the first time I experienced that was in the Genyosha. The damn techs had the gall to tell me to favor my direct-fire weapons over the LRMs because the launcher was hinky. Tellin' me! A Clan warrior! How to fight! I was fit to be tied. Reminded them that of course I already prefer shootin' straight at my enemy instead of relyin' on dishonorable indirect fire. Told them that, if there was a problem with my LRMs, it was with the substandard ammunition, not with the launcher. Told them if they thought they could do it better than me, well, hell, they could muster up and earn their way to MechWarrior status and show me proper--unless they had the guts to challenge me for my own 'Mech right then and there.

Over the course of the next six months, I learned that you can piss off your commander, you can piss off your lancemates, but you damn well better not piss off your techs. I finally bought them all a big damn fruit basket and took 'em out for drinks, and we buried the hatchet.

Now, on Solaris, techs mostly don't care how beat up you get. It's duel culture. What my head tech, Aisling, complained about most was me bangin' up the decorative additions to my ride. Well, hell, Aisling, don't put 'em in places where they're gonna brush up against the scenery, then!

💛 - I think there might have been some turnaround here. The Marauder belongs to the woman I'm huntin'. I'll tell you more about my ride, but I'll talk about hers first, since it's piqued your interest.

That Marauder is old as dirt. Hell, might even have been an SLDF -2R once upon a time. She sure claimed it was. But when she and I faced off, it had been refit and rebuilt all to hell. Had a standard -3R loadout. Didn't look like nothin' in the bay. Marauders are pretty enough. Got that quiet menace about 'em. You see 'em all over, so they kinda lose their impact after a while. But when she got behind those controls, that thing came to life. She was her own lead tech. She knew every bolt and bundle by heart. She'd piloted that beast since she was old enough to reach the pedals. She didn't have no fancy motive system control computer, no advanced neurohelmet, nothin'. She just knew how to use the controls in advance of the desired motion. Could track all the various centers of gravity of each part of her machine in real time. Felt like she was runnin' two seconds ahead of everyone else, myself included. And you'd see it in her gait outside of the cockpit, too. She'd walk up to the bar, and you'd swear there was somethin' familiar about her, until you realized you'd just seen those exact motions in the last live match that had been broadcast on the bar's tri-vid.

I digress. The question was about the machine, not the woman. Though maybe I'd argue that there's functionally no difference.

So about my ride. My Ebon Jaguar. I took it as isorla off some unfortunate Smoke Jag who was awfully proud of her brand-new ride. She practically begged me to take her as a bondswoman, at least so far as the boundaries of honor would allow, I think so she could get her ride back. Well, honey, you just didn't use her to her potential. Sorry to disappoint. So I had my new ride painted up in Delta blues and greys and took her on the road to the Inner Sphere. She's nowhere near as quick as the Shadow Cat I rode before, but with all this ranged punch, she don't need to be. My stable on Solaris gave her a nickname: "Razorclaw". Now if that ain't the most stupid, generic thing to call a Clan 'Mech, I don't know what is. I didn't used to feel like 'Mechs deserved nicknames. They're just equipment. But lately I've been gettin' sentimental, I guess. Been wonderin' what I ought to call her. I suppose I'll figure out a good one someday, probably five minutes before she gets shot out from under me.

Well, damned if I ain't been particularly long-winded today. I beg your indulgence of an old warrior's reminiscences.

[knockoff-conlon]

"yous is holdin' it wrong," finch snorts. he taps his shoe against albert's leg, watching him.

"no, i ain't!" albert yells back.

"yous is left-handed. you needa hold it the other way." he jumps off the fence and stands beside albert. "here, lemme show ya." he holds out a hand for his slingshot.

"look, i don't need ya to help me with everything," albert says defensively. finch grins.

"yeah but you ain't ever shot a slingshot before. watch." he plucks his slingshot from albert's hands. he grabs a pebble from the ground, loads it, and aims at the bottle he set up about twenty feet away. "see this?" he lets it go and it slams right through the bottle. "that's how it's done."

"i don't get how ya do that so easily."

"if ya let me show ya, you could." albert sighs and takes finch's slingshot back.

"fine, fine. go set up another bottle." finch sets another bottle up in the old one's place. he heads back to albert.

"switch your hands." albert listens. he doesn't listen too much to anyone but he listens to finch. "no, no, like this." he puts his arms around albert, puts his hands on top of al's.

"yeah."

"focus. yous is lettin' yer mind drift. don't do that." albert's head turns slightly to stare at finch as he speaks. "ay, pay attention."

"sorry."

"now c'mon. focus. try and just look at the bottle. just the bottle. ain't nothin' else around."

"hard to focus on that shit when yous got ya hands on me." he rolls his eyes before nudging albert to make him pay attention again. "ay, yous is distractin' me, sweetheart."

"the bottle, please, al." albert shifts his focus back to the bottle, smiling slightly. he stares at the bottle, trying to narrow everything just to it. finch taps his arm and he lets his pebble fly. it smashes the bottle. "ya did it, red!"

"i fuckin' did it, finchy." he presses a kiss to finch's nose, grinning when he makes a face. "yous is a good teacher."

"ya still ain't allowed to take my slingshot whenever ya want, al."

"it's a good weapon. cause now i can hit crutchie from real far away. he ain't gonna whack me with his crutch no more."

"maybe yous can get race to get ya one from brooklyn. this one's mine. it took me forever ta steal it." he grabs his slingshot back.

"right, sweetheart. i ain't gonna take it. thanks for lettin' me shoot it though." finch smiles at him.

"yeah. anythin' for ya."

"love ya, patrick."

"i can feel ya takin' my slingshot, al. put it back."

"damn."

[0perfectimperfections0]

Part 5 of shell shocked.

Okay, with my alternative idea for this series, I'm debating on either incorporating the ideas into this work or eventually into my novel on Wattpad "Blind Stitch" so long as it works.

BUT, I have a ways to go in both this series and in my novel before I have to worry about coming to that decision. So, here is FINALLY part 5! This one is gonna be a little shorter.

____

The wind still whipped around terribly. Nolan made the decision for them to stay close to the entrance of the office building. It wasn’t safe enough for them to walk back to his house, nor was it a good idea to bring Lou into the crowd of dolls in the mental state he was in. Nolan rested on his knees, Lou still in his arms, and did what he could to calm him down. The building trembled violently and Nolan worried that the infrastructure would collapse on them.

The Uglies stayed quiet. Ox, Wage, and LuckyBat sat on the far side of the hallway, backs against the wall and silent since Nolan rushed in to grab Lou. Mandy kneeled beside Nolan, firmly rubbing down Lou’s gloved-again hands, starting at the fingertips and moving down in some hope of consoling him. Moxy stayed with them on the opposite side of the hallway. There was already a division forming amongst them. Babo and UglyDog paced around the middle of the hall, not sure which side they would subconsciously side with by sitting with them.

“There won’t any other option,” Ox mumbled, eye still trained on the floor. The wind that buffeted against the double doors nearly drowned out his words.

“There were plenty of other options besides subjecting him to mental warfare,” Nolan shot back, passive-aggressively.

“You make it sound worse than it was—”

“Solitary confinement. Does that work better for you? Might as well put him in a straight jacket and toss him in a padded cell.”

Wage finally stood as her anger rose. “Maybe we should! Nothin’ else has worked so far and I don’t see you comin’ up with any ideas! Maybe we oughtta just keep ‘im from blowin’ out the whole Institute!”

Nolan grit his teeth, misinterpreting the heat growing on his skin to be from his own anger. “You can’t possibly be sadistic enough to try that.”

“Unless you’ve got a better idea–”

“Stop talking,” Lou growled. His eyes were squeezed shut. That electricity was building up again, not only from his own emotions but from the arguing going back and forth. He put a hand to his temple where a headache was forming. The shaking started to cease and the wind quieted down now that he couldn’t focus on anything other than the headache. "If all you're going to do is argue, then get out."

Nolan was surprised when Lou forced himself off of the brunette's lap, albeit shakily, but he forced himself to stand. Ox stood up as well. "And leave you alone? Yeah, right, that ain't happenin'."

"Really? Cause you didn't have a problem with it when you shoved me into that room by myself."

Ox cowered slightly, but he was still defensive. "Alright, that ain't been my smartest choice today, but we can try--"

"No," Lou's breathing was labored, his eyes seeing dots from the migraine. "I'm done with these...these experiments. I'm sick of it."

Ox was silent for a moment, watching Lou carefully. "I ain't takin' you to the recycle."

Lou laughed dryly. "Don't worry, I can walk myself there, thanks."

Now the bunny was growing frustrated. "You're a coward, ya know that?" Lou bristled at that, looking at Ox with a mixture of surprise and fury. "The Lou I knew didn't give up no matter what he faced."

The blond towered over the bunny, but Ox didn't cower back. "A lot changes in...what, 7 years?" Lou bared his teeth, glaring down. "Don't think you know me, because you don't. Not anymore."

"Uh, guys?" The dolls turned to see Babo at the front door, peering through the glass window beside it. "We have a slight problem." He pinched his fingers in the air with a nervous look.

Wage grumbled and walked toward the door. "Compared to Sparky over there, anything is a slight problem." She peered through the window, eyes widening when she saw the fleet of robots outside at the bottom of the steps leading to the mansion. "Oh..."

Ox opened the door and stepped out first, Moxy following behind him. The others stayed inside, for no other reason than to ensure that Lou didn't get out of control again. Ox didn't go down the stairs, though. After seeing these things torture his former best friend, he wanted to be on higher ground. "What's all this about?"

They all looked the same, but one of them spoke up. "Mr Everett has sent for Prototype Model 12. Prototype is declared defective and in need of repair."

"Uh huh." Ox didn't believe that garbage for a second. "What kinda repair?"

"Compliance is necessary for the functioning of the Institute. Any hindrance will be eliminated promptly."

That...sounded threatening.

"I ain't gonna hand 'im over to ya, if that's what you expect me to do." Ox stood his ground. Lou could talk about change all he wanted to, but gosh darn it, that was still his best friend.

Moxy wrung her hands together nervously, whispering. "Ox...maybe we should just let them take care of Lou."

Ox stared down the robots, thinking, before shaking his head slowly. "Somethin' tells me that everyone will be a lot safer if he stays out of their hands. Especially if his Creator gets a hold of 'im."

The robot lifted its arm, pointing it towards Ox, transfiguring it to make its hand vanish, leaving a gaping tunnel. "You have twenty seconds to bring out the Prototype Model 12."

Ox stared at the barrel-like arm. "Yeah? And if I don't?"

"Hindrance will be eliminated."

Moxy gulped, hiding behind Ox as he formulated a plan. "Alright, fine, relax. We'll bring 'im out." Ox gently guided Moxy by the shoulders and led her back inside. He kept an eye on the robots as he closed the front door. "Alright, ya'll, new plan." Ox turned to face his friends… “Where’s Lou?”

Nolan jerked a thumb behind him. “He’s right–” No one. 

Wage pulled at her ears in frustration. “Where’d he go!? I thought you were watching him!?” She pointed at Nolan.

The brunette held up his hands defensively, eyes wide. “I swear he was right behind me a second ago!”

Banging erupted against the door and Ox instinctively slammed his back against it as the knob started turning. “Alright, new plan number 2: run.”

The gang wasted no time in bolting it down the hall. The front door broke down and the robots flooded in, scanning the area before chasing them down the hall. Moxy looked at Ox who was running beside her. “What was plan number 1?”

Ox’s ears were flapping behind him in almost a humorous way if it wasn’t for the metal deaths chasing them. “Also run, but with Lou.” 

They shot through the back door of the mansion, skidding around the corner of the building to do a loop around back to the front. If they could get to the main square, maybe they could at least run through the portal. But they didn’t stand a chance of outrunning something that didn’t have lungs. Other dolls in the Institute took notice of the fleet of robots chasing the gang and exchanged concerned glances with each other. Ox flailed his arms, screaming at them. “Everyone get inside! Hide!”

For dolls who no longer had to practice proper training in how to hide, it was a difficult order to follow, in their defense. They ended up panicking and running into each other before running towards the center of the Institute where Ox and his friends were going. 

The group skid to a halt as the other dolls had nowhere else to go. “The portal is closed!” One of the dolls panicked. 

The robots formed a line in front of the crowd of dolls, armed and ready to fire. Babo rummaged through his pockets for anything that could be useful, but all he found that could be of any use was a slingshot. 

Wage snatched it from his hand. “Gimme that!” She picked up a rock and aimed it at the tin cans. The rock didn’t have enough momentum and thudded unceremoniously against one of their heads. She tossed the slingshot at them and glared at Babo. “Don’t you have anything useful in those pockets!?”

“Everything has a time and place! It’s not my fault this is the wrong time and wrong place for it!”

The robots closed in. One of the robots’ arms began to make a high-pitched whirring noise and it shot out an explosive from its arm. Ox closed his eye. 

It froze mid-air.

Ox slowly opened his eye and dolls began to murmur in the dead silence of the Institute. The robots’ eyes blinked red in confusion. 

The lights in the Institute began to flicker. Electricity sparked around the outside of the explosive from where it levitated. Mandy watched the darkened clouds above spark with lightning, flashing shades of blue. “Lou…”

The gang stepped back as the crowd parted, dolls backing up quickly in fear as Lou walked through them, illuminated eyes trained on the robots. His hands sparked, blue light glowing up his arms like veins. The explosive began to creak under some sort of weight until it landed on the ground, bent and dented. Lou walked past the dolls, stopping just shy of the outskirts of the crowd. 

One of the robots’ eyes blinked red. “Prototype Model 12. Stand down.”

“Or what?” Lou growled back. 

It set its sights on the blond, arm ready to fire. “Or elimination.” 

Lou stared at the robot, lowering his gaze to its arm. “I choose elimination.”

Electricity traveled down his hands, through his feet, and shot out like vines on the ground. The robots had barely any time to react before they were engulfed by it. Their eyes glitched between blue and red, bodies jerking in every direction until they collapsed on the ground. Smoke rose from their bodies and the glowing orbs of their eyes dimmed to gray. 

[msookyspooky]

@bitchyhorror

Hooker Clan is Forced to Share a Bed

(Shenanigans ensue + Caleb's Dad Never Found Him and This One Shot is close to the Movies Timeline. No word count. Not Proofread.)

They all waited around outside the run down motel, anxiously eyeing the sky.

"What's takin' Jesse so long?" Diamondback mumbled under her breath as she sat on a nearby trashbin.

Severen leaned against the wall, cigarette hanging out of his mouth as Homer bummed one off of him. He glared at Caleb as Severen lit it for him. "We wouldn't be so rushed if it wasn't for him."

Caleb sat on the curb next to Mae, turning to speak to them with a huff. "I didn't mean to, Homer." As Mae protectively wrapped an arm around his back.

Severen pocketed his lighter and threw his cigarette on the ground; grinding it with his bootheel. "I didn't mean to! I didn't mean to be such a pussy. I didn't mean to almost get us arrested so close to sunrise. I DiDn'T mEaN To!" Severen mocked in a whiny voice before pointing at him with narrowed eyes. "Because of yer damn hesitatin' bullshit; we had to forfeit our fuckin' wheels and probably have a man hunt on our heads ALL a half an hour before sunrise."

Caleb scoffed. "That happened hours ago!"

Severen acted like he was going to go over and DB grabbed his jacket sleeve and yanked him back. "Don't you fuckin' sass me, boy! We had to WALK all these hours too, now didn't we?!"

"I think my shoes have a hole in them now from walkin' MILES tonight. All because he's too much of a wuss to make kills!" Homer grumbled.

"I'm sorry, alright?! I didn't think I had the right time to kill em! I didn't want to get us caught!"

Severen released an outraged, sarcastic laugh as Homer practically growled at Caleb for the comment.

DB shook her head. "Well now, isn't that ironic? It's always the right time. You make the kill and you make it fast. Because you hesitated tonight; someone called the law on us quicker than we could spit."

"Guys, just leave him alone." Mae mumbled, holding onto him as she spoke. "He's killed before he's just learning! We got our stuff, we got away. That's what's important."

"What's important is the sun comin' up!" Homer spat.

"Well, how about instead of fear mongerin' ya'll relax? Stressing out and pointing fingers ain't gonna make the sun come up any slower." She rubbed Caleb's arm. "Besides, we've went through worse."

A huff sounded behind her as she stared at Severen. "Twenty bullet holes later and a new bounty on our heads in this State. First time in decades after everyone died out or forgot the last one. Having t' escape out the back of that shithole bar. Camper surrounded by pig wagons." Severen grumbled, spitting on the ground and pushing his hair away from his face. "Had to break in a window just to grab our shit."

Mae rolled her eyes. "I thought you of all people here liked danger, Severen."

"That ain't the problem, Mae." Severen retorted. "Okay, it ain't the fact I had to dodge some fatass cops. It ain't walkin all this way. It ain't even missing some junk I had to leave behind." He walked over and leaned over to glare at Caleb specifically. "It's the fact this walkin' talkin' shitstain keeps being nothin' but dead weight draggin' us all down." He kicked Caleb with his boot as he walked away to pace, eyeing the sky looking a lighter dark blue now.

DB added. "Severen's right, Mae. It ain't what we had to do tonight but why we had to do it...Now, the sun's comin' up and you better hope not a single cop got a good enough look at Severen to track us down. Not while we're at a disadvantage...Again." She gave, a tense expression to Caleb then towards the sky as the slightest light blue color just got lighter on the horizon.

Homer furiously shook his head with a whimper, rushing over to DB as she brushed his hair from his face. Holding him close and shushing him.

Severen suddenly marched over and pluck Caleb from the ground by his jacket. Hissing as he shoved Caleb against a pillar.

"Severen, don't!" Mae begged, standing up and grabbing Severen's arm.

"Should just leave you out in the sun to bake whether we get a room or not! We've gave you chance after chance boy and the only thing you did worth a damn was the van incident over a week ago...I'm thinkin' I need to take my spur back and shove it down yer damn throat!" He barred his teeth as Mae grabbed his arm and yanked it off her boyfriend.

"He's tryin', okay!" Mae exclaimed. "He drank the blood he just fumbled this one kill!"

He turned to grab Caleb again before Jesse's voice ran out to them. "Enough of that, Severen. Don't get too riled up and lose the time."

Everyone looked to see Jesse near the door with a displeased expression on his face. DB hopped off the trash bin and led Homer with her. Severen dropped Caleb on the ground like a sack of potatoes as Caleb groaned and jerked his jacket back in place, Mae instantly rushing to help him up.

"Took you long enough, Jess." Severen griped as he walked to the door.

"Yeah well...It's gonna be a long day. I'd rather not have Mae cryin' through it. As much as it'd be deserved who she's cryin' for." He muttered, eyeing Caleb as the sky behind them turned a light pink.

Homer shoved into the building while Severen hauled their bags and followed. DB stood outside a moment as Jesse opened the door for her. "What's the matter?" She asked.

He sighed. "Damn motels are gettin harder to get. Ran out of rooms so...We had to compromise."

"Compromise?" He just put a hand on her shoulder and led her in before calling out to Caleb and Mae.

"If you don't wanna burst into flames; I'd say you got 5 minutes or less to get yer asses in here."

Caleb frowned but nodded as he and Mae walked their way to the door. Jesse gave Caleb a glare as he walked in behind them and Caleb just kept his head down.

They made it to the room and Severen sat all their stuff down with a perplexed look. Homer was already in the bathroom and yelling about something when everyone else walked in.

"...Jess?"

"Yeah, Severen?"

Severen rubbed the back of his neck with a disbelieving smirk. Clearly close to losing his shit after tonight. "Uh, there's one bed. Why the fuck is there one damn bed?? And no chairs? Where the Hell is the furniture???"

"THERE'S NO TUB!!" Homer yelled from the bathroom before rushing out, demanding an explanation. "There's no tub just a floor and a drain! Why, Old Man?!"

"Compromise." Jesse sighed out. "Only room left was half the price. It's being renovated into a honeymoon suite with only one King. They haven't installed the big tub yet."

"Oh well, half price!" Severen sarcastically laughed out as he sat on it, slumping as the hours passing by instantly started zaping their energy.

Mae's eyes darted to everyone. "W-Well. We're tired, we gotta sleep."

DB gave Severen a raised brow and Severen groaned and flopped on the end of the bed.

Caleb huffed as he got closer. "We gotta share a bed?...All of us?"

Severen kicked him away. "You can sleep on the floor like a dog for all the shit you put us through tonight."

Mae held onto Caleb's arm and glared at Severen. "Then we'll sleep on the floor together."

"Of course you will...Move over." Homer griped before making a running leap and flopping next to Severen laying horizontal on the bed.

Caleb looked at them with a frown as Mae led him to sleep on the ground with her near the bed. Using one of the bags as a pillow and Caleb's Jacket as a blanket.

DB and Jesse took the head of the bed, Jesse at the headboard and DB in-between him and Homer. Everyone tried settling in as the sun was probably visible in the sky by now if anyone had checked.

Time passed before Homer shoved at Severen. "Move your arm off my space, Clydesdale!"

Severen jerked, elbowing Homer in the side. "Aw sorry there, lil buddy. I thought pocket sized meant you didn't need all that space?"

Homer jerked up and aggressively fluffed his pillow before he tossed himself back down to face DB instead.

DB got comfortable next to Jesse but Jesse moved his arm and accidentally hit Homer right in the face with the back of his hand. Homer shoved it away.

Just when everything seemed fine about an hour passed and all hell broke lose waking everyone up when Homer smacked Severen right on the forehead. Severen's snoring was cut off as he jerked awake and sat up to glare daggers at Homer.

"Wha...Hey! Why the fuck did ya do that for, ya lil boner?!"

"You're BREATHING your hot ass breath in my face while snoring like a timber saw! I can't sleep!"

"Hommeerrrr." Jesse growled out in a warning, half asleep and groggy.

Severen didn't even hesitate to rip the pillow out from under Homer's head. "Maybe I'd snore less if I was elevated; why are you the one with a pillow, Precious?" He mocked with a sneer.

Severen laid down with it, fluffing it and reclining with a smirk. "Now THAT is better."

Homer's eye twitched before he grabbed that pillow out from under Severen's head and tried shoving it across his face. Holding it down with his weight and superhuman strength as Severen's body tensed up and he tried reaching for Homer's neck.

"Stop it, stop it, stop it." DB scolded, grabbing Homer by the shoulder and jerking him off before shoving Severen back down when he went to retaliate. "Now, we're all gonna sleep. Alright?"

Homer and Severen glared at each other as they laid back down but Homer yanked his pillow back from Severen and slept the opposite way; his legs near Severen's head and his head near Severen's legs.

It wasn't long before Homer shoved at Severen's legs in irritation and Severen kneed him in the head as the bed rocked and they both shoved each other away.

Jesse shot up. "Severen! If you don't stop yer goddamn shit-"

Severen sat up and motioned to Homer. "It ain't me! Jess, yer not plum up against Homer while trying not to fall off the end of the bed!"

"....Oh for godsakes- FINE. Me and Diamondback will take the middle of the bed and Homer takes the end."

Homer scoffed loudly. "Why do I get the end?!"

Jesse gave Homer a tired glare and Homer relented. Grumbling the entire time as Severen got up and he slid into Severen's spot. Everyone moved down as Severen got the headboard.

"What's all that racket?" Mae tiredly asked from the floor as DB answered. "Nothin'. Everyone go back to sleep."

Time went on of everyone laying there, trying to get comfortable. It seemed like they finally found something that worked until a huge thud was sounded throughout the room followed by curses.

"What in the goddamn hell?-" Jesse grumbled as everyone got woken up by Homer cursing.

Homer shot up from the floor with a loud, irritated groan. "This is stupid!"

"No ones fault but yer own, Homer." Severen mumbled with his eyes still closed. "As usual."

Caleb and Mae woke up to see Homer march over to Severen and try to shove him off. "Move! I'm not sleeping on the end!"

"Well I'm not either, kid!"

"ENOUGH!" Jesse yelled, slamming his first on the bed as he got up to stand. "Since you two wanna act like a bunch of ingrates; I'll take the end with Severen. Diamondback will sleep vertical with Homer at the headboard. Got it?!"

Caleb watched something snap in Homer as he grabbed Severen to hit him as Severen tossed him off onto the floor. "I told you never call me that!"

Everyone silently glared at each other but relented, Severen being the first to roll his eyes with a sigh and get up. Everyone got into their position, Homer going to sleep above Jesse as he and DB dangled their shorter legs to either side of the bed while Jesse and Severen laid horizontally across the bottom opposite each other.

It was a restless day as everyone seemed to wake up early, groaning and uncomfortable. Homer woke up half off the bed, Jesse woke up with Homer's leg over his chest and Severen woke up with DB knees on his shoulder and DB half off the bed herself.

Jesse gave a tired look and shoved Homer's legs off while DB stretched and got off Severen. "Sorry." She mouthed to Severen as he sighed and sat up, rubbing his eye with a groan. "Don't matter none. I think we all slept like shit...Still beats being woken up by the feds at yer door."

Homer groaned with a stretch and nodded.

They all sat up to see Caleb and Mae already up and chipper. Mae smiled at Caleb. "Who knew the floor could be so comfortable?"

Caleb laughed and kissed her forehead. "Better with you."

All while everyone gave them tired glares.

[theunboundwriter]

The Sea is in Her Blood

"Tis a pirate that's said to be a terrifying breed o' bloodthirsty. Eyes a cursed color of orange from takin' a dead man's treasure." The man paused briefly to take a smoke from his cigar, leaning back in his chair and resting his feet on the barrel in front of him.

"They call him 'Cutthroat Marlowe,' the nastiest pirate to sail these waters in a long time."

He gestured for the bartender to retrieve another drink, tossing him a silver coin, and sliding the glass towards me. He released a shaky breath of smoke before continuing, "I've seen him with me own eyes when he and his crew raided a village I was passin' through. I saw Marlowe take down ten men at once with nothin' but a cutlass and thank the gods he didn't see me or I'd be a dead man too."

The buzz of the chatter of people echoed around us, drowning out any other sound that may be heard. The man leaned forwards, closer to me, his breath rancid and hot on my face. He lowered his voice, "Ye know how fast talk travels, 'specially on the waters, but they say he killed his lover, then his crew, and to be honest with ye, if I hadn't seen 'em with me own two eyes, I'd say he was just a tale."

After another puff of smoke escaped his lips, the man sighed, "I ain't never met a man who'd turn on his own crew, killin' them in cold blood. He must be all kinds of evil to do something so wretched.

"There be guesses, as to how he died. I'd heard that after recruiting a new crew they had a mutiny. Others say he danced with Jack Ketch or got his throat cut like he'd been doing all those years. Givin' him a taste of his own medicine if ye ask me."

He leaned back in his chair once again, and I doing the same. I kicked my feet up and leaned my chair back so it balanced on two legs, the gold bracelets on my wrists clicking against one another as I brought the glass to my lips.

"All I can say is I hope the man's in Davy Jones' Locker, or the darkest corner of hell for all the trouble he's caused. May he rot in pieces."

"I'll drink to that, sir," I smiled, tilting my hat to reveal the amber eyes that had been concealed by the shadows, loose brown curls falling to my shoulders. I took a sip of the ale the man had bought me as payment for listening to his stories.

Sitting down my glass, I stood up to leave, thanking the man for his time and walking to the door. But then, just as quickly as I had left, I spun around on my heel, unsheathing the dagger I kept on my right hip and pressed it against the man's throat.

He looked up at me with wide, confused eyes. They then morphed into fear as he gawked out the word, "you?"

"Aye sir, it's me. And you know how the saying goes," I smile, watching as the man quivered under my knife, "Dead men tell no tales."

About:

Genre: Adventure Status: 1st Draft POV: Third Person Omniscient Tropes: Adventure, Pirates, Curses, Buried Treasure, Found-Family, Will to Survive, Self-Reliance, Learning to Love, Loneliness as Destructive Force Content Warnings: Blood, Murder, Violence, Dark Thoughts, Tag Used: #wip: the sea is in her blood

Synopsis:

June ‘Cutthroat’ Marlowe had built up quite a reputation for herself. Not only was she the daughter of legendary Captain Damon ‘The Marked,’ but she was the only one brave enough to wrong him and get away with it. Now fleeing for her life, June has to find a ship and a crew, and sail to wherever the map she stole from her father takes her, before he can get his hands on the treasure she’s after.  Word travels fast, and it seems as if the seven seas were against her, as she’s being hunted down by more than just her bloodthirsty father: Captain Bates Anderson— The British Navy Officer— who she’d outsmarted time and time again, and wants nothing more than to see her pay for the crimes she’s committed.  The love of her life, who she had left for dead.  This pesky pirate who just so happens to have exactly what she’s looking for. And an ancient curse that had been following her family for years.

Characters:

June 'Cutthroat' Marlowe // Daughter of the infamous Captain Damon 'The Marked,' who only wants to make a name for herself separate from the legends of her father and to finally best him and gain the upper hand. She would do anything to accomplish her goals, sacrificing anyone who got in her way.

Damon 'The Marked' Marlowe // June's father and Captain of the Last Curse. He's built up his reputation through stories that have been spread across the seas, getting what he wants through tactics such as fear and threats. Damon was after a certain piece of treasure that he had to keep a secret from June, knowing that she would want to get her hands on what he was after and he couldn't afford to share with her. After she stole his map, she fled from the ship and jumped into the unforgiving hands of the ocean. If it were anyone else, he would have given up looking for them and assumed the sea had gotten the best of them. But June? She was like a cockroach: hard to kill and always lurking around the corner. If Damon wanted this treasure, he would have to find her and most likely bring her life to an end.

Bellamy 'Red' Carlyle // Captain of the Scurvy Return, and the first person whose heart was stolen by June. He hated to admit it, but he fell for her faster than he could have ever expected. Red welcomed her into his life with open arms, giving her a place to stay and offering her a job on the ship. Little did he know, this would cost him everything: his ship, his crew, his authority, his title as Captain, his heart, and his life.

Pierson 'Albatross' Rutland // The Quartermaster of the Scurvy Return and the newly named Red Treasure after June takes over as Captain. He has a charming smile and always knows exactly what to say, but that doesn't change the fact that he has ulterior motives and is doing his tasks out of greed. He'll say what he needs to say to pass suspicion, buttering up whoever is in charge so no one casts him a second glance. Of course, the traitor always dies in the end.

Captain Bates Anderson // The British Naval Officer that witnessed first hand the horrors that June 'Cutthroat' Marlowe is capable of. After losing the lives of everyone on his crew, he vows that he will do everything in his power to bring them to justice and make June pay for the crimes she's committed.

Jesse Myers // A pirate that came into June's life when his crew attempted to board her ship. She threw him in the brig for the hell of it, but Jesse reveals he has information on the treasure she is after.

Booker // A crew member of the Last Curse that helped June escape the clutches of her father. She believes him to be dead, but he holds a valuable piece of information that will help her accomplish her goals.

Salton 'Grisly' Harding // First mate of the Scurvy Return, and father figure to Red. He's a quiet, older gentlemen with more wisdom than people realize, one of the few to quickly pick this up being June.

Kit Harrison // The surgeon of the Scurvy Return, and the first to speak their mind to June. She was grateful for his snarky sense of humor and the way he says exactly what he's thinking.

Franklin Willoughby // Cabin boy of the Scurvy Return and one of the few people that June tolerates on the ship.

Carter and Carswell 'Righty and Lefty' Garrick // Pilot and Sea Artist, respectively, of the Scurvy Return. They're more fun and games than paying attention to what they're doing, and if it weren't for Salton keeping them on track they would never get anything done.

Benton 'Plank Walker' Charlton // June's first mate aboard the Red Treasure. He is as loyal as they get, following June's orders with a trust that few could possess. He does, however, advise her if he believes there is a better course of action, and she almost always hears what he has to say. He was the only one who would stand up to her without repercussion.

Raleigh 'The Mermaid' Fulton // As a woman studying medicine, she has no where to legally practice. Which is when she decides the only way for her to follow her dream is to do so illegally. June hires her to be the surgeon of the Red Treasure, and only later does she realize that she is the daughter of the Governor.

Philip Irwin // Philip came to June looking for adventure and a place to stay. She made him the cabin boy of the Red Treasure, liking his enthusiasm. He is a firm believer in the fantastical, believing in mermaids, fairies, and anything magical.

Sherwood 'Daring' Ike // The Master Gunner of the Red Treasure. He's incredibly impulsive, and quite literally a loose canon. June initially hired him for his bravery, but she's come to realize that he isn't one to follow orders blindly.

Tag List:

ask to be added or removed @fearofahumanplanet @marinesocks @parttimeghost @houndsofcorduff @creatrackers

[the-pirate-gang]

Okay first of all, WHO DIDN’T TELL ME I WASN’T WEARIN’ ME SKULL PIN?! Ye know how embarrassin’ that is?! Geez...

Secondly, the captain still hasn’t found his phone. I’m not even sure he knows it’s gone yet.

Now that I look at it, I’m pretty sure this is me old phone. Does the captain know that he can just get a new phone without havin’ to use me old one? Man he’s old.

Anyways, I just wanted to do a small update. Nothin’ much has happened. Ye know, same old same old. The weather’s nice I guess. Maybe I could convince the captain to take us out sailin’ later I don’t know.

Well that’s all I wanted to say and if anythin’ interestin’ happens I’ll let-

Darryl quickly grabbed the phone out of Penny’s hand and glared as she spun around, teeth baring, ready to confront who ever dare to take something from her. Her anger quickly turned to panic as she saw the captain standing there with his arms crossed.

“So this is where me phone went?” Darryl said, holding up the phone. Penny gulped as she tried to come up with a excuse.

“Captain I was just lookin’ for ye! I found ye phone and was just about to give it to ye!” Penny said innocently, kind of proud of how quickly she came up with that lie, but of course Darryl didn’t buy it.

“Penny, why did ye take me phone? Ye have a perfectly good one yeself, so why take mine?” Darryl asked, ignoring Penny’s blatant lie.

‘Looks like there’s no gettin’ around the old robot this time huh?’ Penny thought to herself.

Penny sighed “Alright fine, I wanted to run the blog for awhile okay.”

Darryl rubbed his eye with his free hand “Penny ye know ye could of just asked.”

“Yeah, but ye was busy! And I didn’t want to interrupt ye so I uh... "borrowed" ye phone." Penny said, putting on the best innocent smile she could muster.

"Penny," Darryl said as he put his hands on his hips "not only will ye be doin’ ye chores today, but Tick's as well."

Penny's smile dropped.

"WHAT?!" Penny yelled.

"Ye heard me lassie!" he said firmly. "It should teach ye right for takin’ me things without me permission! And to think I was goin’ to take us out sailin’ later! Guess we're not going to do that now, are we?!" Darryl yelled back, letting his anger get the best of him.

"What?! No sailin’?"

Darryl and Penny quickly turn to the source of the voice only to see Tick standing by the door that leads to the living area.

"Tick! How long have ye been standin’ there?" Darryl said.

"Um... for awhile now actually." Tick said in his garbled speech, shoulders tensed as his eyes darted nervously between Darryl and Penny.

Both of them started to awkwardly shift in place knowing Tick had just heard them yelling at each other. Besides brawling, Tick never really liked to see people fight, especially them.

They all stood there in awkward silence for a few seconds when Tick decided to break it.

"So what were ye guys fightin’ about?" he asked, stepping a bit closer to them.

"Well when I was draggin’ ye back to ye room, Penny here though it would be a good idea to snatch me phone while I was distracted" Darryl said, narrowing his eye at Penny who responded by sticking her tongue out at him.

Tick shook his head and looked at Penny “Really Penny? Ye know ye could of just asked for it.”

“Yeah, I know.” Penny grumbled, crossing her arms.

Tick gave Penny a disappointed look before he turned his attention back to Darryl. 

“Hey uh Dad? Sorry for makin’ ya drag me to me room again. I really didn’t mean to fall asleep.” Tick said, looking down in embarrassment.  

Darryl rubbed the back of his head and sighed “Nah its fine Tick, just next time if ye start to feel sleepy while stargazin’, go to ye room okay?”

Tick look back up with his signature smile “Okay Dad! Next time for sure!” Tick beamed.

Penny stood there shocked “Oh! So when he gets in trouble it be okay?”

“Lassie, I think accidentally sleepin’ on the deck is less of a crime than stealin’” Darryl said, looking sternly at Penny, who turned away from him and grumbled something under her breath.

“Well at least I have some good news. Congrats Tick, because of Penny ye don’t have to do any of ye chores today.” Darryl said looking at Tick.

“Wait really!? AWESOME!!!” Tick exclaimed, bouncing in place.

Penny rolled her eyes as Tick quickly crossed the deck and headed to the ramp that lead to the shore.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa there Tick! Where do ye think yer goin’?”

Tick froze in place and turned his head to see Darryl walking over to him with a confused look. 

“Ye said I don’t have any chores, so I’m headin’ to the main park.” Tick said innocently. Darryl slowed his pace as his confusion faded.

“Oh alright then. Just next time tell me where ya headin' instead of runnin' off to who knows where." Darryl said, patting Tick's shoulder.

"Actually Dad before I leave, can I run the blog for a bit? Since ye know, Penny already had a turn." Tick asked. Darryl thought for a moment, looking at the phone that was still in his hands. He looked a Tick and handed him the phone.

"Just take care of it alright?" Darryl said.

Tick nodded happily and continued on his way.

"OH COME ON REALLY!?" Penny exclaimed.

"Hey! At least he asked!" Darryl said back.

Both Penny and Darryl watched as he slowly made his way towards the main park. Penny smirked.

“I bet he’s goin’ to see 8-Bit, or Lou” she said, earning a chuckle from Darryl.

“Well, ye know how he feels about them”  he said, tuning on his heel and headed towards the door labeled “Captains Quarters”. Penny watched him for a second before she sighed.

“Hey um, Captain?” Darryl stopped and turned to Penny,waiting for her to continue. She shifted awkwardly before she spoke again.

“I’m um... I’m sorry” Penny said.

“Lassie, sayin’ yer sorry ain’t gonna get ye out of yer pinishment.” Darryl said

"No not that, it be for um... it be for when I yelled at ye at Barley's" Penny said, looking down in shame.

Darryl looked confused for a moment when the memory hit him like a train. Ah, that night. He was telling one of his famous pirate stories. Everyone loved it... well at least he thought everyone loved it.

Darryl sighed "Look lassie ye don't-"

"Well I am!" Penny interrupted "I should have never yelled at ye like that! I don't even know why I got embarrassed! It wasn't even that bad! And I know ye love ta' tell ye stories that way a-and I feel terrible that I-I was the one that made ye stop a-and-" Penny was cut off when Darryl wrapped his arms around her.

"It be okay Penny. It was a long time ago. I forgive ye." Darryl said, hugging her a little tighter and Penny gladly retuned the hug. They stayed like that for a few minutes, neither wanting to let go.

"How long has it been since we lasted hugged?" Penny asked. Darryl chuckled sadly.

"Too long." he said. After a few more seconds they eventually let go of each other and Darryl could see Penny quickly rubbing her eyes.

"Aw lassie please don't cry." Darryl said. Penny smiled a little.

"Do ye feel bad enough ta' not make me do me chores?" Penny said, trying her best to sound innocent.

Darryl couldn't stay mad at Penny and if he could he would have smiled "Don't think yer getting out of it that easily."

"Darn!" Penny said jokingly, making them both laugh.

"..."

"Well how about this lass. If ye finish all the chores before the sunsets, I'll take us out sailin'" Darryl said. Penny's eyes shined as a big smile grew across her face.

"REALLY?!"

"But ye better hurry! Even though it be the mornin' those chores ain't gonna do themselves!" Darryl said, feeling the excitement radiating off of Penny.

"Okay Dad! Right away Dad!" she said, hugging Darryl one last time before running off to get her chores started.

Darryl stood there for a moment.

‘Dad’ he thought ‘Hasn’t called me that in a while either’

Darryl looked at the ocean as a cool ocean breeze passed by. Yup today really is a good day for sailing.

[iamknicole]

Boxes

Bloodline Family Series

Next Friday played on the flat screen in the living room while Simba waited. He checked his watch then rolled his eyes leaning his head back on the sofa.

"Aye, Pooh! It's 7:15!" He yelled out to her only to be met with silence that made him huff. "Pooh, come on, man! I told you we was leaving at 7:15!"

Again, silence.

Huffing much louder this time, Simba cut the television off and got up from the sofa. He stuffed his phone into his pocket then went to the stairs going up two at a time. He knocked gently then pushed the door open.

"Say, what you doin in here, baby? We gotta go," he called out not seeing her. "Where you at?"

Kennedie smoothed her dress out then fixed her hair before walking out of their bathroom. She smiled brightly at him.

"Sorry, sorry. Porsche called me for help. I'm ready though. I look okay?"

Simba sucked in air nodding. He crossed the room to kiss her forehead. "You look beautiful, Pooh. Come on, let's go."

When they got outside Simba stopped her on their steps and went down a few. He pulled out his phone and pointed it at her.

"Simba," she laughed covering her face, "Noooo."

Simba sucked his teeth laughing. "Girl, move your hands and let me take this picture."

Slowly she put her hands down laughing. "Okay, okay. Make sure I look good."

"I got you, Pooh," he chuckled. After snapping a few pictures, he helped her down the rest of the stairs then showed her the pictures. "See? I got you. You look good."

Kennedie smiled. "Okay, yeah. My Simba did that. Lemme take yours now."

"Nah," he shook his head, "We gotta get outta here so we on time."

"As fast as you drive, we'll be on time. Come on please, Simba."

"Aight, aight. Take the picture, Pooh"

Once they were done taking pictures, Simba helped her into his Challenger then got in and sped out of their neighborhood. He played the r&b playlist Kennedie had put on his phone for the drive there. Every now and then he would glance over at his girlfriend, catching himself when a smile would come to his face.

In the middle of their drive his phone rung, 'Dad' flashed across the screen of his radio. He hit a button on his steering wheel as he was switching lanes.

"What's up, Dad?"

"What you doing, baby boy?" Jey's voice boomed through his speakers prompting Simba to turn the volume down some.

"Nun, on the way to dinner with Pooh. She can hear you, I don't know why she ain't said nothing yet," he laughed looking over at her.

Kennedie pushed his arm laughing. "I was letting yall talk. Hey, Dad!"

Jey chuckled. "What's up, Kenni? How you doing, sweetheart?"

"I'm good, Dad. Just tryna make it with your mean son."

"Aight that's enough," Simba chuckled, "You aight, Dad?"

"Yeah, I'm good. Was checkin on yall. Where yall headed?"

"Takin Pooh to dinner then probably get ice cream or something. Nothin major."

Jey spoke to Cookie in the background for a moment then got back to his son letting him know to be safe and have fun. When they disconnected, Simba turned their music back up and put his hand on her thigh. Looking from his hand to his face, Kennedie decided not to question the affection just in case he moved his hand.

The couple stood in the waiting area while the hostess got their table ready. Kennedie stood with her back leaned against him while she looked around the restaurant. His hands were planted firmly on her waist and his face in her neck. He alternated between kissing her neck and biting her earlobe.

"Simba," she giggled still looking around. He hummed out a response. "Not that I'm complaining but you're extra affectionate tonight."

A chuckle escaped him and he spoke lowly in his girlfriend's ear. "You want me to stop?"

Kennedie shivered from a chill that ran through her. "Nope. Continue."

When they were shown to their table, the couple took no time ordering their drinks, appetizers and entrees. One thing about them is that they hated waiting too long to eat so they always made their choices as soon as they sat down. It wasn't long before their drinks and appetizers came out.

"Before I start eating, do you want some?" He asked softly.

His question went unanswered because his girlfriend was staring lovingly, a little lustfully at him. Between the outfit, the jewelry, the fronts and the affection he had been showering her with, Kennedie was floating.

Simba reached across the table to tap her hand, "Pooh? You want some or not?"

"Uuuh ... some what?" She asked frowning a little.

"My appetizer. You want some of my food, Pooh?" He laughed at the face she made.

"Oh um yeah, I'll taste it."

Nodding, he put some of his food into her plate. He started to taste his food then looked across the table at her pointing with his fork.

"You gon let me taste it?"

Again, she frowned and shook her head. "I'm sorry... taste what?"

Simba fell into a fit of laughter. He tried to stop when he saw her pouting but he couldn't. "Your food, Pooh. You gon let me taste it?"

"Oh oh yeah, of course," she nodded moving some of her food into his plate, "There you go. Sorry. I don't know where my mind was."

"Its aight, baby. I know where your mind was," he smirked.

By the end of their date, Kennedie had fallen even more than she thought was possible for her boyfriend. They had good conversation, good food, he barely frowned and when he did it wasn't at her. He took her for rolled ice cream then they rode around the city for a while talking and not talking.

Getting back to their townhouse, Simba helped her out the car then pulled her into a hug when she tried to walk away. He kissed her forehead, her nose then her lips.

"Thank you for letting me take you out tonight. I had fun. Did you?" He asked softly.

Kennedie smiled up at him. "Of course, I always love going out with you, babe. Thank you for taking me out. It was nice."

"Good, I'm glad, Pooh. We both been busy so it was nice to get out together with no interruptions."

"Yeah it was," she agreed adjusting his chains that hung around his neck. "You ready to go inside?"

Simba looked at their front door for a moment then back at his girlfriend. "Yeah I am but I was thinking."

"Thinking what? Too much interacting with people? You need a break, Simba?" She asked laughing softly.

He shook his head staring down at her. "Nah, not that. I don't need a break."

"Then what were you thinking?" She asked genuinely curious.

For the third or fourth time that evening, Simba grabbed her hips and pulled her closer to him.

"I was thinking that our night don't have to end right here. That we could finish it once we got inside. That is ... if you want to. If you don't that's cool too." He explained softly.

Kennedie raised a brow, "You mean ...? Like opening one of the boxes your dad sent?"

Simba chuckled softly, "Yeah, Pooh. That's exactly what I mean. So what you say? That or we can watch a movie."

Kennedie smiled hard and pulled away from his grip and grabbed his hand pulling him along with her. "I say what are we waiting for, let's go open a box."

Laughing softly, Simba allowed his girlfriend to pull him up the few stairs and into their townhouse. She scurried off to their bedroom while he locked the door and turned their alarm on. He sent a text to his brother and turned his phone off before following his girlfriend's path praying it all went as good as he hoped.

[moody-cowdaddy]

Blue Button-Down

Arthur Morgan x Reader | Imagine #4

Summary: You get soaked during a rainstorm while on an overnight trip with Arthur, and now you're freezing.

Category: Fluff, Sexual Tension.

A/N: I'm honestly having too much fun writing these lil' fluffy/sexual tension Arthur pieces. 😭 also, I apologize in advance about not being able to put add a 'keep reading' cut. It's been almost a year or so since I've been on Tumblr to actually write as much as I have the past week. I'm not sure how Tumblr mobile works anymore. So, if anyone would know how to put this under a cut, please let me know. 🤷‍♀️

××××

"I said, I wanna touch the earth

I wanna break it in my hands

I wanna grow something wild and unruly

I wanna sleep on the hard ground

In the comfort of your arms

On a pillow of blue bonnets

In a blanket made of stars

Oh, it sounds good to me."

××××

If there was ever a time for New Hanover to suffer a torrential downpour, it was always whenever you and Arthur went on trips where it was necessary to stay overnight. There had been some O'Driscolls spotted in the Valetine saloon. So, immediately, Dutch sent the two of you out to tail the gang back to their hideout to take them all out.

You were halfway to Strawberry when the bottom of the sky seemed to just give out, pummeling the two of you and the surrounding area with rain. It was already close to dusk, so Arthur decided that you needed to stop and set up a campsite as fast as you could to get you and the horses of the rain.

You agreed with him as you slid yourself off of Jasper, leading him over to a slightly more wooded area to provide the stallion with some form of cover from the weather onslaught. Your clothes were already halfway soaked with water, and you could feel your body temperature dropping the more the cold rain fell on you.

"Think ya can help me get this tent up?" Arthur asked as he untied a canvas from the back of Athena's saddle.

"Yeah, we gotta be quick. Looks like it's set in for the night." You walked over to him, helping him unload the rest of the supplies from his saddle.

He nodded. "Seems that way. Them O'Driscolls will have'ta wait 'til mornin'."

The two of you were utterly drenched by the time you finally got the tent set up. Arthur seemed to be unbothered by it, but then again, he had been subject to far more harsh weather than this. You, on the other hand, were completely chilled to the bone. When you were finally able to get inside of the tent, it was a relief to finally have yourself sheltered from the freezing rain, but you were still cold, regardless. It was going to take more than just shelter to warm you back up. You dropped yourself to the ground, shivering as you pulled off your trail coat, tossing it to the side. It was a bit of a relief, but not by much, the majority of the rest of your clothes were still soaked through to the skin.

"Goddamn," Arthur hissed as climbed into the tent after you. "I tried'ta get the horses s'much cover as I could. It's a damn mess out there."

He lowered himself onto his bedroll near you as he pulled out a pack of cigarettes from his pocket, lighting one up. It was quiet, all except for the sound of the rain as it poured on top of the tent, beating the material to hell, gallon by gallon. You did what you could to wring the water out of your hair before bringing your knees up to your chest, wrapping your arms around them as your shivering began to intensify when the cool air from the outside hit your drenched clothing.

Arthur had took notice of it immediately, turning his attention towards you. "Ya alright, girl?"

You shook your head. "Other than freezing to death, I'm fine."

"Ya bring any extra clothes?" He stuck the cigarette between his lips, taking a drag.

You gave him a pleading look as you shook your head, figuring he'd berate you for not bringing any extra. But he didn't. He never did, and you knew better than that. Arthur was always different with you than the others. He'd berate anyone else in a second with his quick wit and a smart mouth, but with you, that wasn't so. If he ever had a difference of opinion with you, or needed you to know better about a situation, he'd always give you that familiar stern look of his, followed by the dangerous way his tone sounded when he said, "Girl".

Quite frankly, sometimes you'd antagonize him just to illicit that response out of him. He was even more desirable than usual when he had a streak of anger in him.

He shook his head amusingly at you as he reached over to dig through his saddlebag. "I gotta lot to teach ya about bein' prepared, huh?"

A bashful expression appeared on your face as you tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. "I guess ya do Mr. Morgan."

He finally leaned back over to you holding a worn, blue button down shirt. It was the one that you had seen him wearing so many times before, and your heart skipped a beat as you saw him offering it up to you now.

"Oh, Arthur. You'll have nothin' to change into if I-"

He cut you off with his free hand as he held the shirt out to you with his other, the cigarette still hanging from between his lips. "It ain't up for debate, (Y/N). You'll catch ya damn death out here if ya keep that on."

You took the shirt gently from his hands, clutching it tightly. "Thank you, Arthur."

He smiled, "Ya know damn well I ain't gonna let you freeze. Ya need me to step out?"

"No." You shook your head, "There ain't no need to for all that."

Truth be told, you'd have been more content if he was taking these soaked clothes off of your body for you.

"A'ight then." He took one last drag off the cigarette before throwing the butt of it outside of the opening flap of the tent.

But, him being the gentleman that he was, he still turned his head away from you. You sighed lightly, smiling to yourself as you began to unbutton your own shirt. Sometimes he was too much of a gentleman, but that'd have to wait, The focus right now was getting these clothes. Pulling the saturated clothes off of your body was a torture all on it's on. The wet material of both your pants and shirt still tried to cling to your body, making you hiss everytime a freezing piece of the cloth touched your skin.

When you finally got the shirt and pants off, you threw them across the tent, wanting them as far away from you as possible. You pulled Arthur's large shirt over your shoulders. It was an indescribable feeling, not only for the warmth that it held, but the fact that it was his shirt. It smelled like him; a mix of cigarettes, campfires and pine needles. He was considerably bigger than you, so the shirt was very loose fitting and comfortable. It was long enough to where it hung just a little past your thighs. You were still cold, but you felt much better than you had before.

When you finished, you lowered yourself back down onto your bedroll. Arthur peeked around to check if you were decent before he shifted himself back to the front of the tent. The rain had calmed down from what it was a few moments ago, but that wasn't saying a whole lot since it was still pouring down rather heavily.

"Ya know I'm gonna feel bad about takin' ya shirt. I owe ya one," you admitted.

"Nah," he said. "Long as your warm, that s'all that matters."

The way he cared for you almost made your heart hurt sometimes, especially when you so desperately longed to care for him, and to be with him in more than just this way.

You gave him a nod and a thankful smile as your lowered yourself to lay down on your bedroll. You and him listened quietly to the rain for a while, thinking over your own things, and thinking about how this whole thing with the O'Driscolls would play out tomorrow. But you couldn't keep your mind on much else, not even on Arthur, and that man consumed a good portion of all your thoughts. You were still bitterly cold, and the sharpness of the air outside didn't help. At all. You had began shivering again as you curled yourself up into a fetal-like position, trying to get some more warmth going, but it wasn't much use.

"Ya still cold?" Arthur cocked an eyebrow at you.

"Very. This is why I don't meddle with the cold." You could see small clouds of fog each time you spoke.

"I can't start a fire with it rainin'," Arthur breathed, looking from you to his saddlebag.

He finally stood up and quickly began to unbutton his own shirt, dropping it to the ground before he kicked his boots off. Next, he worked on his gunbelt, letting it drop the the ground with a THUD as he went for the button on his pants after that. Even as cold as you were, seeing him literally strip down in front of you like this was obviously enough to take your mind off of it for the moment. You lifted your head slightly as you watched him standing there in nothing put a pair of underwear. The man seemed to be all muscle, there was almost no part of his body that didn't look like some kinda statue you'd see in a big city, or one of them old places like Greece.

He ended up pulling out a pair of dry pants from his saddlebag and put them on. When he got the fresh pants on, he walked back over to his bedroll, yanking his blanket off of it before stepping over to you, quickly gesturing to you with his head.

"Scoot," he said bluntly.

A certain look of surprise came over your face as you leaned up, forcing your tensed muscles to move as you made room for the hulking man to lay himself down beside you. He threw his blanket over you, lowering himself down beside you. He lifted the blanket up just enough to his work his way up under it. You could feel your whole body go even more tense when you felt his body heat and the way he protectively wrapped his arm around you.

You scooted yourself just a little closer to him. You laid your head down near his chest while you brought your hand up, resting it against his broad, firm chest, feeling the tussles of chesthair beneath your fingertips. You could hear the slight hitch of his breath when you touched him, and you weren't completely sure if it was because of how cold your hand was, or if he was just that touch starved. You had a feeling that it might've been both. He didn't seem the slightest bit uncomfortable about it, though.

Overall, it seemed as if it was somewhat of an open secret between the two of you, that, you both knew that each of you had some sort of attraction to the other. But how much and how far either of you were willing to go with that was still up in the air and never discussed. You knew what you wanted from Arthur, and you just hoped that somehow he knew that.

But those were thoughts for a different time. The man literally had you in his arms at this very moment, doing whatever he could to keep your from freezing to death, and that's all you were worried about. You were absolutely grateful. You laid there for the moment in a state of complete bliss. The feeling of his strong arms around you was almost too much to bear, you hadn't experienced anything else in your life that made you feel what you were feeling now.

No one else in your life had ever made you feel the way that Arthur was making you feel in this very moment, and it made your heart ache all the more because of it. You were so close to him that you could hear the slow, steady beating of his heart in his chest. It sounded more lovely than any song you had ever heard before.

"How ya feelin'?" He asked.

The grumbling of his his deep voice vibrating in his chest sending another shockwave down your spine, but, atleast this time it was for a reason that you actually enjoyed.

You rolled your eyes up to him, looking directly into those crystal blue iris' of his. This was the first time you had ever been this close to him, and you couldn't help but be in awe of him. You admired his chiselled features, and how thick his beard was beginning to get. Any other time you'd stop yourself from doing this, but he seemed to be studying your face just as much as you were his.

You finally sighed, reluctantly peeling your eyes away from the handsome cowboy. "I'm a lot better now. Thank ya, Arthur."

"Don't mention it. I ain't gonna let nothin' happen to ya. Ya already know that." You could feel him shrug as he shifted his arm, moving to rest it flat against the small of your back.

You scoffed playfully, "Yeah." You looked up at him once more, "I think I know that better than 'bout anyone."

"That ya do," he chuckled. "Don't think I'd be lettin' anyone else take my best shirt."

You scoffed at him, "This ratty ol' thing, Arthur?" You were only poking fun at him, and he knew that.

"Hey, don't be talkin' shit 'bout mine. It's keepin' ya warm, ain't it?" He chuckled again, shifting his eyes down to you.

"I won't doubt ya, but I think that's more you, ol' man." You smiled innocently back up at him.

"Who you callin' ol' man, girl?" He squinted his eyes at you in mock offense.

"You," you repeated with a coy smile.

"A'ight then, I'll remember to let ya freeze next time. Maybe one'a them grizzly bears will keep ya warm." He cut his eyes to you again, trying to hold back his smile.

You shook your head at him. "Y'know you'd never let anythin' happen to me, Arthur Morgan."

That familiar smile danced across his lips as he gave you a slow nod. "Well, I can't argue with ya on that one. Yer the pain in my ass that I jus' can't live without."

You both laughed as you laid there, arms still around eachother. It was one of the few moments where the two of you could just let your guards down and be yourselves. And getting to spend this time wrapped in his embrace only made it better. You honestly couldn't think of a moment where you had ever been happier. The two of you locked eyes with eachother once more, both of you seemed to be doing the best to stare into the other's soul, wondering who would ever be the one to make the first move.

"So," you spoke, trying to break up the silence that had set in again, "Mind tellin' me what Dutch's obsession with these O'Driscoll men is?"

Arthur sighed, bringing his hand up to pinch the bridge of his nose as he turned his head to look up at the roof of the tent. "Ehh, it's a long story. We've been at war with 'em boys for years. Colm, the leader, killed Dutch's woman years ago. The only woman I think he ever really loved, an' he's been tryin' to kill that slippery bastard ever since."

"Oh. Well, you can't damn 'em for that. I think I'd wanna kill the person that took someone I love. But, then again, I ain't never found a man I could stand for more than a night." You shrugged.

"That right?" Arthur asked curiously.

You looked up at him, biting down on the inside of you lip. "Perhaps I fancied at least one of 'em."

Of course you were referring to Arthur himself.

"What about you. Why ain't you gotta woman?"

Arthur hummed, his chest heaving slightly at the question. "I did, long time ago. Almost got married, but she didn't want no part'a this life, an' this life is all I ever known, so, that was that. I'm a bad man, an' I know that."

You rolled your eyes at what you were hearing him saying. "You're pullin' my leg, right?"

"What?" He cut his eyes to you.

You grunted, propping yourself up on your elbow to look at him head on. "Arthur, you are one the of the best, most kindest men I ever met."

"She didn't see it that way," he gestured his head, still unconvinced.

"Jesus Christ. Just 'cause some woman disapproves of ya ifestyle don't make you a bad man. Do you think I'm a bad person 'cause I live this life with y'all?" You narrowed your eyes at him.

His lips parted in surprise as he shook his head quickly. "No. 'Course I don't think that. Why'd ya say some shit like'at?"

"To prove my point." You smiled mischievously, knowing you had just got one over on him.

His lips stretched into a thin line, stifling a smile. "I swear, gal."

"Ya know I'm right," you said confidently.

He hummed again, "Hah. Careful, darlin'. Wouldn't want ya gettin' too cocky."

"Yeah, yeah," you giggled.

You were finally able to relax once you were fully warm, thanks to Arthur. He still had his arms slung around you, and he seemed to be just as comfortable as you were. The feeling of his bare skin against you was the epitome of heaven.

"Ah shit," Arthur breathed, finally laying his head back down to the bedroll. "If we're gonna get the jump on them O'Driscolls, we better get some rest."

You had already began to get sleepy once you finally got comfortable. So you had no reason to argue with him about that.

"You're right about that."

"Ya want me to get back on my bedroll, or stay here?" He asked, peering up at you with those blue orbs.

"You can stay right here.. I mean, if youd like?" You asked.

He sighed, giving you a non-chalant shrug as he nestled himself down onto the bedroll. "Ah hell, I'm already comfortable where I am."

You tried to hold back the feverish nip of red at your cheeks, but there was no stopping it now. You gave him a nod, and lowered yourself back down beside him.

"Thank you again."

He turned his head in your direction, giving you a look of sincerity. "Ya don't have to thank me, (Y/N). I'd do it again."

You could feel a warmth in your chest as he spoke. His voice was gruff, but was as smooth as silk whenever he spoke. You couldn't help but smile, and you were convinced there wasn't anything you didn't like about this man. You took in a calming breathe and met his eyes again.

"I know you would. You wanna know why?" you asked as you leaned up once more, surprising him as you laid a kiss on the side of his prickly cheek, the hairs tickling your lips. "That's because you're a good man, Arthur Morgan. And you're gonna know that someday."

He looked at you in shock as a small, shy smirk tugged at the side of his lip as he watched you lower yourself back down beside him. You nuzzled your face against his chest, listening to his heartbeat again, which was beating considerably faster this time.

"Goodnight, Arthur," you whispered in a sleepy tone.

"Goodnight, (Y/N)," he answered back softly.

You could have swore you felt him pull you closer into his chest, wrapping his arm around you just a little tighter as you drifted off to sleep.

[redwoodwrites]

Fun Hazard

AO3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13368537

Summary:  Before the twins leave for Piedmont, Mabel takes them on a short adventure in the forest.

“BLAAAAAH!”

Ford woke up when something large and heavy landed on his stomach. He jack-knifed to a sitting position and fell off the couch. “Ow! Mabel?”

“IT'S FUN O' CLOCK, PEOPLE!” she bellowed. “RISE AND SHINE!”

Stanley, still sitting on the couch, groaned and cracked his joints as he woke up. Ford and Stanley had fallen asleep on the porch, reminiscing over their boyhood, sharing the adventures they'd had in the forest. At some point, Ford had fallen asleep against his brother, and apparently they'd stayed outside like that all night.

Ford squinted blearily at the sun. “Mabel, it's six in the morning. You haven't been possessed by a rooster again, have you?”

“Puh-lease. You see this sweater?” She stood back. Her handmade earth garb sported a stylized purple octopus with a blushing smily face. “Ain't no rooster's got style like Mabel.”

“Actually, with a double-negative –”

“Mabel?”

They turned. Dipper had appeared in the doorway, yawning and rubbing his eyes. He was soaking wet. “Please tell me you didn't rig the water-balloon alarm clock over my bed. It's too early to murder someone.”

“Then it's my lucky day!” she sang. “C'mon, everybody! We've got two days left at the Falls and I've got BIG PLANS! WOOHOO!”

It took a few minutes, and a lot of loud singing, but eventually Ford let himself be led into the kitchen. Mabel had one hand on his sleeve and the other on Stan's old robe, with Dipper trailing behind.

“I'm gonna make you guys the best breakfast EVER!” she announced. “Smorelets and toast with jelly made from actual jelly beans and juice!”

“Fruit juice?” Dipper asked cautiously.

“Probably!”

Stanley snorted. “Yeah, no, I'm gonna cook 'cuz I ain't got a death wish.”

“I take it Mabel has cooked before,” Ford said wryly, taking a seat at the table.

Dipper shrugged. “Mostly she just makes Mabel Juice. You do not want to know.”

Stanley cooked pancakes while Mabel bounced around him, singing at the top of her lungs and pulling out every topping conceivable for said pancakes: the Jellybean Jelly, powdered sugar, Maple syrup, ice cream, and a rather frightening assortment of off-brand Halloween candy. No telling how old that was. As much as he loved the holiday, Ford made a mental note to stay clear.

Finally the meal was ready, and Stanley put a huge stack of pancakes in the middle of the table. Mabel insisted on putting the toppings all around the pancakes in a flower shape while Dipper passed out the plates. Ford, feeling rather obligated to help, offered to do the dishes.

“Sweet, now I can make as much of a mess as I want!” Mabel said gleefully. She grabbed a stack of pancakes with her hands, loaded her plate and drowned them with syrup. Ford laughed.

They settled down to eat. It was strange, eating with his family. Normally he was on the lookout for inter-dimensional bounty-hunters, and since his recent return to this dimension, he'd eaten in his lab (when he remembered to eat at all). This was different. Companionable. He found himself less interested in the pancakes than in watching his family.

Well, some of his family. Mabel shoved pancakes into her mouth at a frankly unnerving rate, so he quickly looked away. But Dipper and Stan, he noted, both ate their pancakes the same way: filling them with powdered sugar, rolling them up, and eating them like burritos.

Mabel caught him watching. “They call it the 'True Breakfast Burrito',” she said, spitting a few crumbs because her mouth was so full.

Dipper winced. “Ugh, Mabel...!”

“Don't just sit there, smart guy,” Stanley said, his mouth also incredibly full. He nodded at the pancakes. “It's a free-for-all. Take what you want.”

Ford took another pancake and put it on his plate, then scooped out a little pat of butter to put on top. He ate it slowly, listening to the breakfast conversation. Mabel and Dipper had planned a “Weirdmaggedon Outta Here” party for the supernatural creatures they'd met over the summer.

“We can do it tomorrow,” Dipper was saying. “Everybody's probably still freaked out over the whole Apocalypse thing, anyway. Betcha the hospital's packed with people.”

Ford raised his eyebrows. “The hospital? What made you think of that?”

“Oh, well...” He ducked his head. “I've, uh, been there before. Had some issues with...forks.”

“Ah.” One guess what that meant.

“Did you know Soos' mom used to be a nurse?” Mabel asked cheerfully, and poured maple syrup directly into her mouth.

Ford winced. “That can't be good for children.”

Dipper grinned. “Mabel hasn't exploded yet, but Stan and I took bets. I'm thinking she'll drop of a sugar coma by next Wednesday.”

“I've got money for this Saturday at the latest,” Stan said, putting another bottle of syrup on the table.

“Hey!” Dipper protested. “That's enabling! And cheating! You're not supposed to do anything to influence the bet!”

“Says you.”

Ford grinned. “I'm all for long shots. Put me down for three weeks from today.”

When they were done eating, the kids cleaned up and Mabel fed her pig. Stanley got dressed and Mabel hustled them all into the Stanley-Mobile car. There was a brief argument over who would stay to watch Waddles, but Mabel refused to stay behind, so they ended up squashing the pig in the back seat with the twins. They drove off, under orders from Mabel to head straight to the mall. Ford sat shotgun next to Stanley, who, quite frankly, drove as if he was half-blind.

“Are you sure you don't need stronger glasses?” Ford asked, gripping the car door as they took another wild turn.

“Sure I'm sure.” He ran over a road sign. “Just sit back and enjoy the ride, huh?”

“OOOOH!” Mabel shrieked, and Stan nearly flipped the car.

“What the Maple Syrup, Mabel?!”

“Grunkle Stan, Grunkle Stan, you have to stop the car!”

“What for?” he demanded, but Mabel opened the door and he stomped the brake so hard the car burned rubber. She jumped out, came around to Ford's door and pulled it open.

“C'mon, c'mon, Grunkle Ford, you have to see this!” she squealed.

“What, what is it?” he asked, but he let her pull him out of the car.

They'd stopped on a turnout, and the road, as ever, was lined with redwoods. Ford remembered the place dimly from his previous explorations of the forest. It was known for its weirdly glowing pink rocks and the little scampfires that liked to hide among them.

Mabel pulled him into the forest, the rest of the family hurrying to follow.

“Where are we going?” Ford asked her.

“You'll see...here!”

They came to a clearing and stopped. It was about ten feet in diameter, and most of the space was taken up with a pile of the glowing pink rocks, arranged in a distinctive heart shape. Stan came up on one side of him, panting, Dipper and Waddles close behind.

“Wow, Mabel,” Dipper said, surveying the area. “This looks like a lot of work. When did you do this?”

Mabel grinned, sweeping her hands exactly like Stan did when introducing an exhibit. “Welcome, Dipper and Gentlemen, to Mabel's Heart of Bold! I made it after that run-in with Cellestabellabethabelle.”

Ford winced. “Ugh. Her.”

“Haha, yeah...anyway, I was wandering around like a little lost kitten when I saw all these glowing pink rocks. And I thought, aw, they're like little hearts! And that's when I got this idea!”

Ford bent slightly for a closer look. “I thought scampfires collected these. How did you manage to get ahold of so many?”

“Easy! I taught them a neat trick and they let me keep the rock art until the end of the summer.”

“A trick?”

“Watch.” She stepped over to Dipper and whispered in his ear. He blushed and darted a quick glance at Ford.

“Mabel, seriously?” he whispered. “Here, now?”

She grinned. “Unless you have a better one!”

He screwed up his face, thinking, then sighed. “I got nothin'. Fine, here we go.”

The twins faced the rocks, opened their mouths, and sang:

 Friday night, and we're gonna party 'till dawn Don't worry, Daddy, I've got my favorite dress on! We're rollin' to the party, the boys are lookin' our way...

 At this point the rocks, which had been glowing a steady pink, began to pulse with a reddish light. The longer the twins sang, the stronger the pulses, until they were flashing pink and red. Then, under Ford's amazed gaze, the rocks began to change color. The whole heart rippled like a rainbow was flowing over it, a dazzling display of turquoise, indigo, orange, and butter-yellow. Ford caught his brother's eye and grinned – Stan's face was bathed in green light, exactly the color of money.

“Green suits you,” he whispered, as the lights played over their faces.

Stan grinned back. “Me? Look at you.”

Ford looked down. His body was glowing yellow. He stared at it for a second, then started laughing. Stan slung an arm around Ford's shoulder and Ford leaned into his brother, listening as Stan joined in the song.

 Oooh-oh! Girls do what we like, Oooh-oh! We're takin' over tonight.

 The song ended and the rocks gave a last burst of brilliant color, lighting up the trees like miniature fireworks. All four Pines thrust their fists in the air at once.

“Pines! Pines! Pines! Pines!”

 A/N: This was just a quick thing, but I think I like how it turned out. Hope you guys liked it, too!Also please feel free to leave a comment and check out my other works!

[scarlettkat86]

Boogie Wonderland

Thank you to @naromoreau @youre-my-boshaw-baby @jacobmybeloved for encouraging me to write. I would'nt have tried without your kind words.

Lizbeth wiped the sweat from her brow. She and Nick had been busy the last couple days, leveling dirt and pouring concrete to create a makeshift skating rink behind his airstrip. "You know Liz, I think this was a great idea, now we can have somewhere for families to enjoy again, long as you don't let Shark-" She sighed cutting Nick off. "You know that happened when he was 13 Nick. Sharky is not some idiot teenager with a broken heart, raging boner and irresponsible love for fire anymore."

Nick laughed, "Ok, ok, you're right. Now he's a grown ass man, with an unnatural love for fire, and a hard on for you."

She nearly choked at Nick's words. Chewing her bottom lip she asked, "Oh for fucks sake...do you think he's into me?"

Nick grinned, "I think he wants to be in--"

"Nick! Liz! Dinner is ready!", yelled Kim from the Rye's home.

"Well kiddo, looks like it's time to call it a day. Concrete should be dry tomorrow."

After she helped the Rye's clean up, she went straight to the guest room and shut the door.

Flopping unceremoniously onto the bed, she picked up her mp3 player and looked over the disco playlist. "I guess it's as good as it gets. How am I ever going to pull this off?"

The sun shone through the window, stirring Lizbeth from sleep. "Fuck, too bright, too early." Her radio chirped to life, forcing her to get up.

"Morning chicka, you uh, ready to get the day started?"

"Yeah , I'm up and off like a herd of turtles Sharky." Throwing on a white tank and green pants, she stumbled through the front door.

The skies were blue, not a cloud in sight as she jumped in the old jeep. Plugging in her mp3 player, Lizbeth decided to crank "Kick drum heart" by The Avett Brothers. Truth be told her heart was pounding like a kick drum. Today should be like any other day, pick Sharky up, kick some peggle ass, throw back a few rounds at the Spread Eagle, sleep, repeat. She don't know when it happened, but she's fallen hard for the goofy pyro. Hands clammy, mind racing, she pulled into his driveway.

Boshaw manor was nothing fancy, but being from rural Mississippi, she could see the charm in the small trailer. Beautiful views, high ground, plenty of gas cans sitting around to light some fuckin peggies.. and best of all, a personal bunker should things go to hell in a handbasket.

Sharky came running out, jumping in the jeep with Liz. "Fine day for running down some piggies, don't ya think? Gotta say I've missed kicking names and takin ass with ya these last few days."

She smiled and could feel the heat on her cheeks. -God what is wrong with me, blushing like a fucking school girl- Lizbeth giggled nervously, "It's hotter than a jalapenos coochie, but after we clear out this outpost, I want to show you what I've been up to these last couple days." Sharky's head snaps around at the word coochie, he smiles ear to ear. "Alright chicka, I don't know nothin about why someone would know how hot a jalapeno pussy is, but i'm game."

Pulling into the Rye's airstrip, the sun was just beginning to set. Lizbeth was thankful clearing the outpost went off without a hitch, but the moment of truth was here. She turned off the jeep. Rounding the corner, she was so distracted she ran right into Sharky's chest. "Whoa there shorty, everything ok? You ain't hurt, or uh, fucked up from the bliss still are ya?"

-ok lizzy, just breath and get it over with- "Sharky, I need to just get this out there, it's not the bliss that's got me fucked up, it's you."

Dumbfounded by her statement he's trying to think of what he'd done to piss her off. He's about to ask when she says, "I like you Boshaw. You're my best friend, and i'm afraid i'm gonna ruin things here, I know im ramblin', but would you maybe want to...go on a date with me?"

-god, you sound like such an idiot, turn and run away, blame it on the bliss while you can-

Sharky blinked a few times, not sure if he's hearing her right. "Are you asking me on like a uh, date date, like just you and me or uh?"

Lizbeth sighed and looked away, of course he wasn't interested and now its awkward. "Yes, but I get it, you're not interested--"

"NO! Shit, I mean, yes, YES. Fuck Izzy, I think you're sexy as hell, just never thought you'd swing in my league ya know?"

Hearing him call her Izzy sent butterflies through her stomach. Liz looked back up to Sharky and grabbed his hand, dragging him to the new skating rink she and Nick had built.

She reached over to flip the power switch. A rainbow of lights flashed across the concrete floor, a disco ball spun overhead. On the counter was a couple pair of skates, 2 ridiculous disco outfits, and a case of beer.

"I hope you're ready to show me your love of disco music Boshaw. Worked hard on this baby and I want to see you boogie." Liz winked and threw his suit at him. Sharky couldn't contain his laughter, the suit was ridiculous, but perfect for the occasion. "You really are out of my league Izzy, I don't know how I'll ever beat this date, but uh, I'd like to try." Cracking open two beers, Liz passes one to Sharky. She kisses him on the cheek, then presses play. "Boogie Wonderland" pounds through the speakers. "Watch me while I boogie!" yells Sharky as he grabs her by the hips and leads them around the floor.