#i need to rail the shit outta blade

[cloveroctobers]

R. Jerimovich | summer/fall prompts !

A/N: yeah this was supposed to be included in my summer prompt collection but time got away from me. Decided to combine and make this my first October prompt of 2022! Hope you enjoy! I’m wondering what they’re gonna do for season 2? I’m challenging myself to write shorter prompts so I can get work out in a timely manner…here goes nothing 😆!

Update; no luck :/ + WARNINGS: language + enemies to lovers? Or rather shit-talking to friends? Lol. Friends with benefits? Is this a Richie x reader or is it undercover Mikey x reader? Idk I just tried to write what it would be like to have him as a friend but it felt a little questionable at times lol. Anyways! Hope you like this 🫶🏽

Prompt: Skinny dipping + Campfire Evenings + 31. “Do you ever wonder if you’d survive a horror movie?”

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Yeah…you didn’t know what the fuck you were doing here but when your phone lit up, you were on go. His texts should have stayed green but you loved being needed and that was a problem in itself. It has been at least three weeks since the last time you talked to Richie, catching him all dressed up on a date. It was laughable to you, how he could put in the effort for some stranger but couldn’t bother to do the same for you.

He could if he really wanted to.

You’ve always been sidelined and you knew you didn’t deserve it. It was the same useless story since you went off to college and still decided to come back to Chicago. You were there first, through it all and he still chose someone else. You were there for the wedding, the birth of his daughter, and the divorce but somehow you were always second. Even when it came to your shared friendship with Mikey Berzatto…it was a complex trio.

“Why don’t you just date me?” Michael asked you one night; as you ranted over a new Monica joint blasting through your phone.

This was said during a dreadful December, two months before he passed.

You quirked up a brow as Michael glanced back at you, arms hanging over the railing with the view of Chicago’s river walk in the distance, “would you?”

Michael snorted at you with a shake of his head. “Trust me, if I could get a babe like you to fall in love wit a fella like me? It be a honor. But naah I’m not putting myself through that heartbreak! plus I love you too much to even think about you that way. although…it would be fun to piss rich off.”

Scoffing you folded your arms into your lap, leaning forward as you braced yourself against the brutal winter air. Michael maybe five years older than you but you instantly clicked, ever since you became neighbors with your family across the street. The both of you were friends for awhile but Richie knew him first, since their childhood although there was a year or two difference between them. He always liked to make that known, arm lounging around Mikey’s shoulders as he drunkenly boasted, “this right here is my fucken guy! My fucken brother!”

And of course Mikey Berzatto ate that up, grin as wide as the bridge of his nose, “yeah, yeah that’s right you better love me.”

“What? I thought it was a given that you’re my bitch!” Richie pecked the man’s cheek, earning a scowl from the then spiked haired man.

“Your what? Fuck outta here. Moments ruined, jackoff!” Mikey laughed, shoving the man towards you, who stumbled back with you quickly stepping out of the way to not be toppled by the 6’1 man.

Richie caught himself by the bar, slumping against one of the seats by you. He sighed, cup still in his hand as he blinked over at you who side eyed him, “he’s just playing hard to get like you, huh, baby?”

Which of course earned a eye roll from you as you sipped at the rest of your drink, now twenty-one and sent a middle finger at the striking blue eyed man. Both men howled with laughter, Michael reaching over to rest a hand in between your shoulder blades.

“That’s right, y/n! He ain’t worth your time!”

“Excuse me?!”

“Oh, clean the wax outta your ears, rich!”

“I’m the best thing she’s got.” Richie argued.

Mikey scrunched up his lips while you glared at a very drunk Richie, “Which is equal to dog shit.”

That earned a cackle from you, picked fro thrown back as you did with Mikey’s hand still resting on your upper back.

“What the fuck?!” Richie’s enlarged eyes were clearly offended but it’s not like Mikey cared much.

He was just telling it like it was, he’s been on the inside of both relationships and was honest with each of you on what he truly thought.

He then wrapped his large arms fully around your neck, giving you a brief squeeze then kissed your temple, “I think she agrees.”

He winked.

Michael was just magnetic that way and there was something about you that he liked the first day he met you, kicking over a garbage can into the street to get the attention of the garbage men who were extremely close to backing into your father’s Toyota Celica that he just gave you for your eighteenth birthday.

You ended up fracturing your foot in two places but at least the garbage men didn’t ruin your new sweet ride. Michael had to give you credit, you knew how to get your point across if you got pushed enough. Since the moment you and your family moved in, he waved to your ma often, not having much time to talk since it seemed like she was always rushing off to work. Michael knew the feeling at twenty-three but as the second man in the berzatto household, he knew hard work since he was practically in diapers! You on the other hand were hard to come by with Michael working crazy hours at the Original Beef of Chicagoland with his dad but when he did see you, he always wondered what you were up to next.

“that the one that broke her foot kicking that garbage can?” A twenty-one year old Richie asked, as Michael and him were making their way back to the Berzatto household for Sunday dinner.

You were dragging your booted foot down the steps, keys jingling in your hand as you took your time going down them.

“Yeah that’s her.” Michael replied, blunt perched between his lips.

Richie decided to call out, “hey, sweetheart! I heard you like kicking cans! And it usually means having a full-time meeting with our maker above. You know you’re usually supposed to drag them to the sidewalk or street if you prefer.”

“And, and, anddd, minding your got damn business is free! So you might want to work a little harder if you want to be hired, asswipe.” You called back out in a sweet tone, hand resting on the railing of the stairs, with the other on your hip as you took a break.

Mikey laughed at the clapback, smacking Richie’s shoulder who was now glaring at you from across the street. “Sorry about my dumb friend here, y/n! Don’t pay him any mind.”

“Thanks, Mikey. I won’t!” You beamed from across the street, making the gelled haired man laugh once more.

Richie held his hands out, confused on what was happening right now. Why was he being ganged up on…especially by some pretty chick Mikey suddenly befriended? Yeah he was feeling a little pressed.

“Well I hope you have a good rest of the day then!” Richie continued, “try kicking a lamp post this time, maybe you’ll break your shit in three places.”

“How about I come over there and kick your ass instead, Hm? ‘Ol bean pole looking—

“Come see me then!” Richie waved his fingers over at the girl.

Mikey jumped in front of his friend, stepping into the street behind a parked car as he actually saw you start to move down your steps again.

“Okay!” Mikey coughed before clapping his hands together then pulled the blunt to rest behind his ear, “no! Let’s start over, Richie this is my lovely neighbor y/n, she’s all studious which I’m sure you can tell with the glasses and shit, loves cats, sandwiches, and cars. Y/n this is my knucklehead best friend, Richie. He’s basically a extra brother I didn’t want but my right hand, got the prettiest eyes you’ve ever seen, loves a good pair of adidas, and hates trains.”

Richie had his eyes in slits, still staring over at you while you pushed your oval glasses against your nose.

“…why don’t you like trains?”

“Huh?”

“I said, Why don’t you like trains?” You repeated.

“They don’t ever know where the fuck they’re going! The L’s got too many lines: red, pink, brown—the hell is this? Twister?! Fuck.”

A bubble of laughter escaped your lips while Michael lightly shook his head at his friend who was easily frustrated discussing the train routes.

“Well…you could always drive.”

“In this traffic? With what car?! Mikey’s hoopty? The thing can’t even get around the block without blowing a tornado outta its ass!” The long curly haired man fanned his hands.

“This is my last warning,” Mikey pointed at the taller man, “Don’t talk about my baby like that, rich.”

Richie scoffed.

You blew out a raspberry as you now stood on your side of the sidewalk, “sounds tough, Richard. But I’ve gotta go to my car over there so enjoy that train ride or don’t.”

“It’s Richie.”

“That’s what I said,” you blinked before turning back to Mikey, “catch you later, Mikey? Tell sugar I said hey.”

“Will do. Take it easy out there on them streets, huh?”

“Of course. I’m no idiot.”

“I know it, just don’t need to hear from your dad down at Chicagoland you went and injured somethin’ else.”

“Too charming for me, Mikey.” You smiled, slowly strolling over to your car as Richie watched this whole exchange, chewing down on his bottom lip.

Mikey puffed out a laugh, beginning to back up onto the curb as you took your time climbing into your car, always on the go. You started up your car, leaving your driver side and passenger side windows ajar as your car vibrated with Lil Wayne’s, “Way of life.”

Busting a U-Turn you drove by the boys waving as you went the opposite direction.

“That girl listens to Weezy?”

Michael glanced at his friend, “yeah, so?”

“I expected Alicia keys, Sugababes, or even Celine dion like sugar.” Richie shrugged, still looking down the streets.

Michael snorted as he knocked his knuckles against Richie’s abdomen, “uh oh you seem kinda concerned there, Richard. I knew she would have your interest.”

“What?” Richie inhaled, “me and that four eyed bow-legged—

“Hey,” Michael cut in, “she’s cool. You started with her remember? That girl ain’t do nothing to you.”

“She called me a asswipe and a bean pole!” Richie placed his hand on his chest as they carried on to Michael’s house, “I work out, okay!”

“That was after you told her to break her foot some more,” Michael yelled as he began jogging up the three steps to his house, “and all you do is jog in place and do three push ups whenever Juliana and the twins show up at the park.”

“Oh fuck off,” richie shoved Michael inside of his house as the older boy pushed the front door open, “I should be the one grilling you! You seem quite in love with her yourself!”

“Nah,” Michael shook his head, “don’t do that. We’re friends and she’s eighteen, that’s not for me. I just wanted you two to meet, put a name to the face her dad was telling my old man about the other day.”

“Can’t say I believe that, Mikey.”

“Believe whatever the hell you want then.”

The two had a intense stare off before the voice of a young Carmy called out to his big brother.

“Mike! Sugar needs your help with ma!”

Michael broke his stare with his best friend to see his dark blond haired brother leaning over the banister of the stairs. He sighed knowing what this meant as he glanced at Richie who waved him along.

“Right, c’mon down here with Richie, Carmy.”

Carmy appeared as if he was ready to argue but the look Mikey gave him made the eight year old mutter to himself instead. He thudded down the steps, leaving Mikey to plop a palm against the top of his head nudging it around before he headed up the steps himself.

“Sup, little shit. What you into these days?” Richie shoved his hands into his pockets as Carmy stared at him with his own set of round blue eyes.

Carmy puffed out a breath, “a helluva lot more than you, richie. I’m gonna call dad.”

“Yeah, you do that.” Richie scoffed at the small boy who jogged by him to enter the kitchen.

The memories kept hitting you and Richie as you sat bundled with a blanket around the firepit. The heat radiated against your frame as you sat, legs crossed over the other while a slight breeze continued to pick up. It’s been a couple of hours since you pulled up to the coach house Richie pin dropped to you and you had a lot of questions.

Why was he renting this airbnb for the two of you when he was the main one who was the penny pincher? Your eyes held the questions but Richie was all grins as he held out a glass of red wine and a spliff in between his lips as he greeted you.

A simple:

i miss u. cme see me 🤲 — Richard

With a location attached was what got you here. Foolish, you knew. The directions let you know it would be a good drive and you had the weekend off so you wondered if you needed to pack a bag. Unfortunately that was your first thought with the second being should you even bother with this Richie Jerimovich? It caught you off guard with Richie being on a full on date after you called your arrangement quits due to Richie not wanting to commit. That was three weeks ago, it hurt but you kept yourself busy as a front desk supervisor down at the starcloud hotel. No matter how much you tried to put it to the back of your mind, it didn’t help that richie felt the need to text you the next afternoon letting you know that the date didn’t go anywhere.

Leaving him on read made you feel better than the actual news. You didn’t want to give him the satisfaction that the pain subsided about 10% at that. Then another text asking you to come see about him a week later changed everything.

He got naked and decided to go skinny dipping in a jacuzzi but you would not be joining him. Smart choice. You were comfortable sitting right at the firepit despite this man slinging everything around in his own glory. The silence was loud after Richie’s obnoxious rant the first time he stepped into the steaming water but it was quieter on this side of town.

“Stop staring at me, Richard.” You slouched further into your chair, knowing he was doing just that.

“I’m not.”

“I can feel your eyes.”

“No you can’t.” He denied.

You suddenly turned your head to Richie who visibly flinched at your movement, “see!”

“That’s because you started talkin’ to me, it’s called respect! You look at people when they’re talking to you, no?”

“You’re so full of shit, just admit it.” You laughed.

Richie suddenly stood up from the water hands held out, “you don’t know everything, y/n! And look at you now, looking at me in all of god’s given glory!”

You kept your eyes fully on this man’s face, “I’m looking at you because you’re talkin’ to me, it’s called respect!” You paraphrased.

Richie slammed his hands down into the water, “Jesus Christ! Don’t give me no lip tonight.”

“Put some clothes on!”

“Give me a minute, sweetheart! I’m tryna brace myself here.”

You snickered as the wind picked up hearing Richie let out a string of curse words, followed by the sloshing of water. He then ran towards the opposite chair by the firepit and snatched up a blanket to wrap around himself before he plopped down.

After a moment he said, “I’ve been thinking a lot lately.”

“Mmm, must have been hard.”

Richie sent you a look while you bite back a laugh, waving your hand for him to continue.

“About a lot: Mikey, the business, fucken baby new year—

“Carmy?”

“Obviously,” Richie hissed, “this isn’t about him though.”

“Then get on with it.”

“Stop rushing me! I’m trying to have a heart to heart with you here!”

Did you want to have a heart to heart right now? That you were unsure of.

“…do you ever wonder if you’d survive a horror movie?” He suddenly asked after a brief silence filled by the crackling of fire and crickets.

Tilting your head to the side you sat up, hands clenching the arm rests beside you, “you plotting something? If you are, I might have to head inside for a little bit.”

Richie scoffed, “calm your pretty face, babe. I’m not here to do you anymore harm, okay? I’m talkin’…what’s the word? Metaphorically. Life is the horror story, get me?”

Sitting back you hummed. Whenever richie got high he got to talking about the what if’s and it’s always been that way since you’ve known him. However you could tell from your spot across from him that this conversation meant more to him.

“Some of us do,” you started, “I want to. So yes I’ve thought about it, back when I lost my mom and when we lost Mikey. Life gains more meaning when you lose someone important and have to continue on without them.”

“Exactly!” Richie agreed, “it’s kinda ironic. You got to experience lost before you really step back and look at life and live it. The pandemic kinda started that for me, not being able to see my daughter even when fucken Juliana caught that shit—

He stopped himself clearing his throat. He felt anger talking about the woman he once called his wife but sadness when he thought about his constant absence in his daughter’s life. He didn’t want to be a repeat of his own father and yet here he was…

“I had to do things I never thought of doing,” richie spoke, you knew he and Mikey had to deal to keep the original beef afloat. You got it out of Mikey since Richie was so stubborn and sure of himself. They both said they didn’t want to get you involved and you weren’t, you just knew about it. You were their friends so it was only right that you knew about their struggles too? However that didn’t work out too well with Mikey, you bitterly thought.

Richie sniffed as he looked at you, “and it makes you look at things differently. It’s been two years since then and I just—get worked up because I really do care…although I can be dismissive.”

“What are you saying, Richie?”

“Life shouldn’t be this lonely. It’s horrifying, y/n.”

Deeply inhaling and exhaling you took a moment. Did this feel the same as it’s always been? You and Richie were on and off for years now, that came to a halt the minute he married Juliana. He came to your college graduation with her (and Mikey of course!) and that’s when you found out she was pregnant. There was distance with you away in Atlanta but that didn’t mean you didn’t have your fun either. You convinced yourself that you did not need to be hung up over no man and you believed that for awhile.

When you decided to come back to Chicago you had one serious boyfriend, moving on and becoming closer with Mikey during this time. Richie was a new time dad and had to balance life at home with the growing restaurant. It seemed as if the life was slowly draining out of him and you felt for Richie. How couldn’t you? Once upon a time you loved him so deeply. Things were different and you knew it had to do with his poor communication with Juliana, you wondered if she ever found out that Richie drunkenly showed up to your apartment telling you that he wasn’t in love with her and felt stuck. Then there was a baby in the mix.

“He should of thought of that before he put a baby in her, that’s his own problem, y/n. Not yours, just focus on your own relationship. Rich will figure it out.” Mikey often told you at your breakfast meetings.

You missed those breakfast meetings. You only became a breakfast person because of Michael Berzatto…on the other hand? You’d stay right in bed, which is what you were back to doing.

Losing Michael completely shifted the routine.

“I want us to be able to talk again. Really talk again instead of the bickering, disappearing on each other and screwing—even if that’s a pretty awesome time.” He smirked at you while you rolled your eyes, a small smile playing on your lips.

“Aw, you want to be my friend again, richie?”

Richie huffed, “I was always your friend even when I couldn’t stand your ass.”

“So the first day we met?”

“Eh, don’t know if I’d go that far. Maybe a little after.” He answered, “anybody that’s a friend of Mikey’s is usually a friend of mine. Guy’s got solid judgment—better than I ever had!”

You wondered what he was hinting at but didn’t push it.

“What do you think he’d tell us to do if he was here with us?” You leaned your cheek into your palm.

Richie snorted, “tell us to kiss and make up already.”

“I’m not kissing you.”

“Why not? Friends kiss! Italians love giving kisses!”

Smacking your lips you stated, “Richard, you’re Serbian.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Richie fanned his hand, “so can we hug it out then?”

“As friends? Sure, since you went out of your way to invite me to this place for the weekend.”

Richie nodded, “yeah even got us separate rooms and everything. Some love—as friends would be nice.”

“The bare minimum.” You mumbled, “…I’m not ready to move yet so can we get a rain check on that?”

Richie stared at you with those bright eyes almost demanding, “come here.”

You didn’t move right away because you didn’t take orders from nobody. You liked to push Richie’s buttons so you sat there, taking your sweet time before you found yourself lounging on his lap. It was too comfortable to be back in this position, arms wrapped around Richie’s neck with his nose buried against your shoulder. He could still smell your signature scent of almond oil, Shea, and hyacinth covered by your own blanket…just like he remembered and missed.

When you pulled back you ran your fingers over his low-cut hair, missing when it was longer and curly. Richie watched your movements before your eyes met his, damn, you sure did want to kiss him but it wouldn’t be the best idea.

There was still so much that needed to be figured out and you just claimed friendship again. Holding your breath as Richie shifted, he gripped your neck and quickly placed a peck right by the corner of your lips.

“Love ya! You’re driving me wild, friend.”

Oh so this was going to be a thing now.

You leaned back against him, head resting beside his as you enjoyed the fire together. You just knew one of you would break and although it wasn’t full on the lips, it was just as nice. Closing your eyes you melted into Richie’s touch, the firm grip of his hand on your thigh was comforting.

Whatever the both of you were feeling, leaning against each other was needed.

You sat up, “you’re still naked aren’t you?”

“Yeah, so what?” Amusement was in Richie’s eyes.

“I can’t sit like this.”

“Ah, please. It was never a problem before.” Richie blew a raspberry while you punched at his shoulder, making him wince.

“Ew, friend.” You hoped up, making richie frown.

“What do you mean, Ew? Is anybody real friends if they’ve never seen each other naked before?!”

“…this is different.”

“Yeah, sure. Y/n, don’t be shy now.”

“Shut up.”

“No, you shut up.”

“I’m going inside.”

“So am I!” Richie hopped up.

The both of you raced each other to get inside where the real warm and homey feeling existed. Plopping down on the couch, Richie left and reappeared with one of his velour tracksuits before he sat down beside you. He rolled his head over to you, who now yawned flipping through a gossip filled celebrity magazine.

Bumping his shoulder with yours, you raised your brows before you took your eyes off Bennifer sharing a kiss in Los Angeles.

“What?”

“Sorry, friend.”

Before your brows could furrow, Richie tugged you by the neck so your lips could meet.

And you completely melted.

‘Fucking Richie,’ you thought just as you imagined Mikey saying the exact same if he was witnessing this right now.

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Continue along with my fall anthology prompts here & summer prompts here.

[bi-badass-geek]

Summer Games Fest 2024

Holy fuck if that shit wasn't putting me to sleep and it wasn't even because it started at 11pm over here. No offence to those devs and all but most of the stuff was Boring with capital b. Audience either didn't care bout most things showcased or was just asleep too cause that was just sad. My 5 cents that no one asked about since i fell asleep right after + gonna link trailers from IGN.

📣 First they pulled presentation of top 10 Steam sales january-may Palworld, Helldivers 2, Manor Lords, Enshrouded, Hades 2, Dragon's Dogma 2, Balotro, Deep Rock Galactic Survivor, Supermarket Simulator, Buckshot Roulette. I can see most but some i didn't even heard.

📣 Lego Horizon Adventures : Coming holiday 2024, nothing else to say another day another lego game soon we will see any universe with those.

📣 No one Room in Hell 2, Early Access Halloween 2024

📣 Harry Potter Quidditch Champions another game September 3rd.

📣 Star Wars Outlaws coming out August 30. Saying everyone waiting out for it this year is mad!

📣 Battle Aces that's RTS but 99.99% trailer had Tracer like is outta pocket!

📣 Cairn climbing simulator, face texture horrible, studio name 'the game bakers' tho cooks.

📣 Killer Bean EA summer 2024.

📣 Valorant coming to console.

📣 Palworld Sakurajima Update : New Island, New Raid, Arena, Xbox dedicated Servers, 27 June, Stronghold Oil-Rig, New Faction and boss, New Pals, New Buildings and Level Cap, New Subspecies.

📣 Skate console playtesting coming this fall great trailer especially 'STILL' working on it!

📣 Deer & Boy crazy name.

📣 Dune Awakening well it's MMO yikes.

📣 Wandershop fans of gardening, farming will enjoy for sure with a twist. Coming in 2024!

📣 Phantom Blade 0 i can't look at it the same way after i read Japanese Geralt or its Sekiro 2/Nioh 3 lol ,to experience on hand : 8-10 June Summer Game Fest, 26-29 July ChinaJoy, 21-25 August, September 28-29 Tokyo Game Show.

📣 Hyper Light Breaker comes out Late Summer typical Hyper's stuff!

📣 Monster Hunter Wilds

📣 Honkai Star Rail i seriously have no idea what it's about since i don't play but something new i guess?

📣 Alan Wake 2 Night Springs out now, 3 playable characters : Control, Quantum Break. Gotta say wild that they showed it in less than 24h hours before it was out love that and cool that they added other games! 3 episodes!

📣 Kingdom Come Deliverance 2 looks like more good ol' shenanigans that people are stocked for! Kiss Our Asses what's more to say! Coming 2024!

📣 The First Descendant out July 2nd, heard it's good, looks typical stuff. Melee character lookin dope!

📣 Enotria The Last Song : Spanish Souls what can i say! Demo out now! September 19th!

📣Dark and Darker back on Steam and Epic Store for free now!

📣Blumhouse Games : Project C, The Simulation, Fear The Spotlight, Sleep Awake, Crisol Theater Of Idols. Nothing got me more confused in entire livestream than this segment that was just dumped bucket of trash no offence.

📣Sid Meier's Civilization VII : coming 2025 not my vibe but didn't saw fans complaining!

📣Neva comes out 2024 from creators of GRIS.

📣Back Myth Wukong coming out August 20th. That's quick been a while since we last heard.

📣Once Human : Comes out July 9th. Around the corner not going to lie i forgot about this game till i saw it!

📣Asgard's Wrath Available Now

📣Warhammer 40,000 Space Marine 2 September 9th. Another Warhammer.

📣 Metaphor ReFantazio October 11th lovers of Persona got somethin to consume!

📣 Batman Shadow VR game Fall 2024. It's VR game that's all you need to know.

📣 Tears of Metal

📣 DragonBall Sparking! Zero October 11th. KAMEHAMEHAAA!

📣 Delta Force Hawk OPS Global PC Alpha Test in July.

📣 Battle Crush June 27th Moba Mobile nothin else needs to be said.

📣 Mecha Break Closed Beta Test in August such Gundam vibes when i saw trailer but funny how people called it Anthem 2 lol.

📣Slitterhead combat looks chunky November 8th it's out.

📣Unknown 9 : Awakening. Coming Fall 2024 got actress that plays Yennefer in Witcher show. People called it Forspoken 2 lmao.

📣Monster Hunter Stories &2 : Coming June 14th.

Sales : Monster Hunter Rise Up 75% OFF, Monster Hunter World 67%, Resident Evil 4 25%, Street Fighter 50%.

Among Us folks made OutterSloth that supports devs + fuckin tv show is supposed to come out think years too late but oh well.

📣 Sonic x Shadow Generations October 25th nostalgia hittin hard for some individuals.

📣 The Finals new Arena, New Ranked Mode, New Weapons and Gadgets, Weekly Tournaments.

📣 New World Aeternum October 15th consoles. Last i saw game was dead on dead.

📣 Kunitsu-Gami Path of the Goddess half of the graphics to gameplay confused my brain.

📣 Party Animal didn't catch what was that about.

Inside Out 2 Yong Yea voicing is cool!

📣 Squad Busters : Mobile that fuckin trailer killed it omfg! Way too OP for mobile!

[knowlessman]

…idk, world heroes mission ig (bnha movie 3)? not clear on whether the Hawks minisode thing is before or after it so I guess I'll watch it after

"quirk doomsday…" k so they don't like quirks, they're like the non-bender faction in korra. Still kinda feels weird tbh when you got powered folks and non-powered folks and they make a faction that stands up for non-powered people and then make them unambiguously evil. Granted, I'm making assumptions because this group is ticking every box on the "evil cult aesthetic" checklist. -- "we, pure humans…" you, sir, are a vedalken. …uh, that is to say, blue. you are blue.

ho shit they got a death star? …oh, sewer gas or summat -- …a… mutagen thingy? no, it's boosting quirks… -- "you don't have a quirk, do you? and you didn't happen to randomly get murdered by the twenty-odd major disasters we just set off that demolished half the city. congrats, prolly half the people you know are dead but some of them had powers so it's fine"

"ohey, we don't have a hero from egypt yet" copies some clipart "there, now we do"

…WHAT??? HOW LONG HAS HE HAD THIS ALT SKIN? should I have got a few episodes in first? gawd, figuring out anime movie timing is flat-out impossible

ohey it's that guy from this movie that people like

dang, the animators are showing tf off with this chase stuff. the parkour's almost reminding me of mirror's edge 'XD -- pfft, then he just casually rail-grinds down a staircase bc I guess his quirk is being from a tony hawk game

why do I have the annoying feeling I should be recognizing this eyepatch gu - wait. spends ten years scrolling thru his own tumblr looking for his comments from the first movie okay eyepatch guy KIND OF sometimes has a similar face to the, I think, swordkil guy from the first movie, but the hair is not even close, nvm -- um. …shit what was even happening. marcellus wallace's soul, right. cept I think it was a jewelry store, so more like his pinkie ring?

ah k, so rody rhodepecker gets wallace's soul cuz he thought it was the gems he'd had before, so now rody's in the main plot and I guess eyepatch is dead and the chipmunks are gonna have fewer dolls to pick up -- (deku and rody fight over the case and it falls open) marcellus wallace's… tax returns?

"we gotta move somewhere safer. I know! THE TOP OF A MOVING TRAIN is the perfect place to set down this civilia - " okay fine, "suspect"

what kinda topsy-turvy world is this where midoriya gets on a country's most wanted list before God Explosion Murder? …I forget, Bakugo STILL never got hisself a hero name, right?

ah, so the local gov is all in the doomsday cult. …eyepatch seemed to think those papers were important, but deku found nothing of interest, why does everybody want marcellus wallace's tax returns? I guess it's got important inside cult info in code?

"he's going to klayd. bakugo, come on, we have another country we need you to endanger" -- you know you're important when they assign the stelfiest cops on the force to tail you. todoroki and bakugo better find a corner to walk around if they wanna lose these guys

not the sharpest rat on the street, this rody, huh. also, deku's a heavy sleeper apparently. had his hand all over that case and rody was able to just slide it away with no problem. -- you, sir, are an inuyasha villain

-- ("why did you protect me?") "saving people with a smile" is never gonna stop feeling like a brand slogan to me.

…okay, road trip montage ig. good stuff ig. -- "you have a quirk, right?" deku you were fucking born without a motherfucking quirk what the hell kind of a question is that. anyway clearly the farting bird is rody's quirk

(rody gets blasted off a cliff then ice jets show up and idfk stuff) wowee, dangit guys, you're makin me dizzy with the camera zipping all over the damn place -- under the blades bakugo UNDER THE FUCKING BLADES THAT HELI IS GONNA MAKE A SMOOTHIE OUTTA YOU HAVE YOU NEVER WATCHED AN INDIANA JONES MOVIE -- …well damn, Green Arrowette, dramatic enough?

aha, a sneakret compartment -- and obviously it's the puzzle toy from rody's childhood because cults are all about getting the kids involved -- bet the cult woulda loved it if rody had solved it way back when and fucking swallowed the data chip. …random question, where does nintendo get off putting an entire game in a choking hazard just because they can? irresponsible af

"I'm one of the scientists that the cult kidnapped yadda yadda yadda plot stuff final message" and. and they just. plugged this into a computer and hit play. with the speakers on. in a hotel lobby or wevertf this is. with civilians watching tv. FIVE. FEET. AWAY.

bakugo: "only an idiot would make a key without telling you where the door was! where's the place with no bombs… there! that's where their base is!" BULL. SHIT. BAKUGO. IS A HACKER. also bullshit because didn't the first bomb go off literally a hundred feet directly above their base? -- "I'm working on it, damn nerd!" - hackugo the hackerman who apparently is the only computer literate person in the room

okay these wobbly giggly sword-whip guys bakugo's fighting, them I kinda like tbh, designwise at least. …I guess because they just remind me of so many soul calibur characters at once 'XD

"they told me they'd stop the Otheon bomb if I give them the key" okay ten trillion percent he's faking this time, right? …right? -- ohhh, eddie soul. I musta been barely listening to… uh. um. eyepatch guy's audio log 'XD -- "my quirk is that silly pink bird with the mask that farted on you earlier" -- "and also dodging really good" - ohp, okay, not dodging good enough tho

HIS QUIRK IS THE FARTBIRD I WAS FUCKING JOKING. I mean like cool he has a ranger animal companion ig, hell, Minsc has kind of the same thing going for him and he ruined at least one Magic format with it

(bakugo finally won his match)(todoroki is still drowning) freeze the water dumbass, damn -- oh wouldja lookit that, he froze the water

"his quirk has a limit!" I mean, I guess. wobbuffet's only got so much hp. …I swear to god this guy was probably literally and actually and in fact based directly off of wobbuffet, it would explain everything about his visual design -- "you gave up on trying to get people to like you, heroes never give up" deku please just shut the fuck up and finish this fight, every single time you try to say something to somebody about their backstory, you just come off as an ignorant dickhead

"there's no explosion…" marvin martian: "where's the society-shattering kaboom?"

(the fartbird plugged the thing in, probably ages ago) go for the eyes, Boo! the one in texas goes off anyway because the power grid failed again and the disarm code didn't get transmitted to the bomb

oh goody, the not-corrupt police officers arrested the one that was. he was definitely the only bad apple in the bunch, yessiree

…ayup. movie movied. villain had paper-thin motive compared to all for one's easy-to-grasp god complex or the actual literal nightmare that is tomura's, but wever. and rody's fun.

the Hawks Soothe thing is five minutes, huh. -- I think bakugo listening to todoroki's "write 'people' on your hand then eat it" thing is the first hint of character development for bakugo I've seen in maybe this whole WHAT in the FUCK is THAT supposed to be

-- hawks just casually strolling up wearing the carpet from the Shining

jesus christ my guy, this is why they knew to put you in that hannibal mask

okay so this was literally just a prologue of them clowning around in the airport for a couple minutes and I shoulda watched it first, I had them in the right order in my notes. …dammit

anyway, on to s6 ig - wait no apparently there're two OVA bonus episode thingies for s5? huh, it's them playing baseball. lol shoji's got three bats in the cover image 'XD

[rein-ette]

Prompt: 5 times England or Portugal died from being stupid, and 1 time they actually saved each other

I decided I'm going to post it in three parts because 1) once again the word count ran away from me and 2) for some reason I really don't like super long posts on tumblr. So here's the first two parts, outta six. I interpreted the word "stupid"...loosely :D

WARNINGS: blood, graphic descriptions of wounds and violence, character death, and what can definitely be classified as first degree murder

I.

“You should stop drinking.”

“Hmm.”

“I’m serious.”

“There’s a lot of things I should do.”

Gabriel sighed. His head wasn’t exactly clear at the moment either, everything dulled by the three bottles of wine they had pulled from the hold on their way up. But now Arthur was onto his personal stash of scotch and leaning heavily on the railing of the crow’s nest, and — well. Gabriel wasn’t sure if he was sober enough to pull Arthur back if he fell.

“Stand near...here, at the very least.” He mumbled, slapping the mast. Arthur just raised an eyebrow at him. How he managed to look so scornful despite the fact that his eyes couldn’t even focus, Gabriel did not know. Perhaps practice did make perfect.

“I didn’t know you cared enough, darling,” Arthur slurred, now waggling those eyebrows at him. Gabriel had a vague urge to rip them off. “And I’m not drunk. You’re just not drunk enough.”

Gabriel frowned. “I am.”

“Are not. I thought you were sad? So drink.”

“I am sad.” Gabriel stared at the bottle in his hand. He was sad. He just couldn’t...quite remember what about.

Suddenly, there was a blade in front of his nose. Gabriel tried not to go cross-eyed, and flinched back a step. “What the hell?”

Arthur had drawn his dagger and was levelling it at Gabriel’s face. The tip floated sideways every couple of seconds, before Arthur jerked it back. “Let’s practice.”

“No. We’re—no. What?”

Not waiting for a response, Arthur lunged forward, forcing Gabriel back another step. “Arthur, stop.”

“You stop,” he sneered, and then added, “Coward.”

On the next swing, Gabriel pushed forward instead of back and gripped Arthur’s right arm. Forcing Arthur's blade down and away from him, he inwardly congratulated himself on still retaining enough coordination to manage such a thing. Sometimes Arthur got into moods like this and did stupid shit like fight 30 yards up a mast, and at times like this it's definitely up to him to be the responsible one and teach his rowdy boyfriend a lesson.

Intending to do just that, he yanks Arthur around, growling, “Stop! I’m fucking serious—“

.

In hindsight, Gabriel really didn’t need to pull that hard.

--

II.

The first thing Gabriel thinks as he slowly comes to is that his trousers are sticking to his leg. The second is that his back is wet, too.

It takes him a moment to realize it's blood.

Everything comes very, very fast after that. The smell. The weight on his legs. The feeling of something embedded in his right calf. And the skin-numbing horror that comes with the knowledge he is lying in a pool of Arthur's guts.

Gabriel tries not to retch as he props himself on one arm. The smell of burning flesh seems to slide straight up through his nose and envelope his skull — all he can taste is that and the iron slicking every inch of his skin.

His elbow is sliding against the floor. Gritting his teeth, he jerks it back underneath him and tries to sit up again, but in doing so inadvertently shifts the body pinning his legs further down and off his torso. There's a dull thud as a head collides with the floor.

It's drowned out by the scream.

Gabriel freezes, muttering every curse and apology he knows. He can see Arthur's back now, the burns that have almost chewed through his right shoulder and entirely consumed his clothes. A shard of wood has gone through Arthur's lower abdomen and into Gabriel's leg, and he must be injured elsewhere as well, because Gabriel can feel something slick and warm and pulsing against the side of his leg and holy mother of god he needs to not throw up right now and think, think, think.

He had told Arthur not to do it. He had said — but it doesn't matter now, doesn't matter when Arthur's breaths are shallow against the wooden deck and cheeks bleeding gray. Gabriel has to get him off so he can carry them out of here, because over the wardrum of his own heartbeat he can hear the snarling of the waves and that hollow, incessant sound that accompanies a dying ship as it's sucked into the sea. They are running out of time.

Somehow, Gabriel frees his legs. At some point as he maneuvers them around Arthur stops screaming with every move and just pants, wet and hoarse in the back of his throat. Small mercies, that Gabriel feels disgusted to be grateful for.

When he finally makes it to his knees and wraps his hands around Arthur's throat, even that rasp disappears. Gabriel tucks his nose into Arthur's shoulder, presses his cheek against the back of his head to give him what comfort he can, and squeezes.

"It's me." He whispers, "it's me, it's okay, love, it's just me. I'm here, sweetheart. It'll all be over soon. I'm here."

He holds his grip until Arthur's nails no longer make their scritch scratch against the floorboards.

--

Notes

In the second scene, the ship they're on is Arthur's ship. Her name is the Ariel, and she is prone to combustion. I rewrote part 2 like four times and this information was once relevant.

Also I just realized these two scenes are both set on a ship but they're not related hopefully the change in tone made that clear ajsmdndhrnje I might need to fix that

[tiny-slasher]

Bo Sinclair x Reader | Swamped

Alternate Universe where Bo and Vince aren’t murderers.

* . °•★|•°∵ ∵°•|☆•° . *

I had a dream the other night about Bo, and decided to turn it into a fic. My dream was actually a bit darker toned...but it didn’t turn out that way in the fic. So if this seems a little chaotic, that’s why. Blame dream me. Dream Sweepy is a different entity altogether. She should not be trifled with.

* . °•★|•°∵ ∵°•|☆•° . *

Your soaked shoes squelched against the burning pavement, steps heavy as your waterlogged clothes weighed you down. You angrily wiped the sweat from your brows as you squinted, trying to see even a foot in front of you in the bright, afternoon sun.

"I'm sorry, okay?"

Your sister's voice grated on your ears, making you clench your teeth in frustration. You heard her quicker steps try and keep up with yours; her own shoes splashing water against your legs as she got closer.

"Please say something? I said I was sorry!"

You sharply turned to her and snapped, "Tell that to the car sinking in the swamp."

Your sister pushed her sweat-soaked hair from her face, expression the most apologetic you'd ever seen. The anger in your heart fizzled a bit when she whispered another apology, but that didn't ease your frustration. Your nerves were still a bit rattled after the ordeal, and there was a bruise forming on your shoulder from where you'd hit the window of your car. Irritated didn't begin to cover how you felt.

Still, you were thankful neither of you had gotten hurt.

"How far do you think we gotta walk?" she asked hesitantly.

"I don't know."

"My feet are starting to hurt..."

"Be thankful you still have feet."

She huffed and crossed her arms, muttering under her breath as she trailed after you. You couldn't really blame her...it was very hot, and the two of you had been walking for over an hour. You continued for a while longer, each step more difficult than the last. You'd developed a pretty nasty headache, either from thirst or from the heat, and your sister wasn't doing much better.

"Hey, you think there's anyone up over there?"

You looked up to where your sister was pointing, eyes widening. There, slightly obscured by trees was some sort of old building, made almost entirely out of wooden planks. The windows were dingy, and a screen door covering the entryway. It almost seemed abandoned, if it hadn't been for the old pickup truck parked on the dirt in front of it.

"Come on," you said, making your way off the paved road and onto the dirt.

As the two of you made your way over, you saw a sloppy, hand-painted sign at the top of the building that read "Mechanic", and you raised an eyebrow at it. The hairs on the back of your neck stood up as you walked up the front creaking front steps. Your sister stood close behind you, her posture just as nervous as your own. You rolled your shoulders back and straightened up, and headed into the building.

The screen door rattled and creaked loudly as you pushed it open, the springs holding it shut straining against your hold. You heard the low, static hum of a radio playing some sort of old country song. There were boxes of tools and grease-covered appliances without any real organization, and the floor looked like it had never been swept.

"Vince, shut the damn door 'fore you let the gnats in!"

You stepped into the room, your sister less than a foot behind you, and turned to your right to see two young men. One was standing, resting his arms on a wooden rail that acted as a room divider. A dirty hat rested on his head, and his grimy hands picked at the splintering wood they rested on. The other man was sitting in a chair, with his boot-covered feet up on a scratched up desk that took up nearly all the space in the cramped area. He was messing around with a pocket knife, running his thumb over the blade innocuously. There were papers scattered over the entirety of the desk, rustling in the breeze of the desk fan that sat in the corner. You noted the few other pocket knives laying around, holding the papers down.

The one standing noticed you first, and his relaxed expression grew a bit nervous. He cleared his throat, offering you a grimy, but polite smile. The one sitting lifted his gaze towards you, and paused in his fiddling. You swallowed as his gaze pierced you, pinning you in place without having to move a single muscle.

"You definitely ain't Vince."

You shifted on your feet uncomfortably, eyeing the man down almost glaringly.

"Well come on in then," he sighed, setting his feet on the ground and running a hand through his tousled and slightly sweaty hair.

You stiffly walked and sat in a chair on the other side of the desk, thankful to finally give your feet a break.

The standing one walked over with another chair, gesturing for your sister to sit in it. She thanked him, and practically fell into it with a loud sigh. You caught an amused glint in the sitting man's eyes, before he turned back to look at you, squinting at your damp clothes.

"What can I do for ya?"

"We need a ride."

"Car troubles, right?" His brows furrowed, "You too cheap to have me fix it or somethin'?"

"I don't think you can fix it," you dryly replied, earning an offended scoff from him.

"If anyone can, it's Bo," the standing man said behind you, a proud smile on his face as he gestured to the man in front of him.

You rubbed the bridge of your nose, "No it's not...trust me it's not worth the trouble at this point."

The man standing behind you shifted as he continued to lean on the railing, as the sitting man...Bo, squinted at you.

"The hell'd you do to it?" he asked judgmentally.

You crossed your arms with a pout, and out of your peripheral you saw your sister begin to sink lower and lower in her seat, hoping to not be brought into the conversation. Bo, however, noticed, and leaned back in his chair with a raised eyebrow.

He smirked at you, "Ah, someone decided to sabotage the ride, huh? What'd she do? Put her hand over your eyes?"

Your sister sunk even lower, and you didn't feel the need to reply.

Bo leaned back in his seat, "Well where's the car at? Lester can tow it over here for ya."

You glanced back at the man behind you, who gave you a confirming nod, and you sighed, "He might not be able to find it."

"Why not?" Bo asked, twirling his pocket knife in his hand.

You reached over to trace the scratches in the wood of the desk, your fingers coming dangerously close to one of the pocket knifes lying there. You slowly lifted your gaze up to Bo, eyes dark.

"It's sinking in the damn swamp somewhere."

There was a long drawn out silence, before Bo laughed so hard his head lolled back. The man behind you...Lester, began to laugh as well, but tried to be a bit more polite about it. If you hadn't been extremely annoyed, you might've noticed that Bo's laugh was very endearing.

"Ah shit," Bo coughed and snickered at you. "Is that why you're drippin' all over my floor?"

You narrowed your eyes, and grumpily leaned onto the desk.

"Look, can you just give us a ride into town please?"

Bo continued to calculatingly stare at you, as if weighing his options.

"I mean, my services ain't free, darlin'."

Normally, you might've been lured in by that southern drawl, as Bo had intended, but you glanced over at your sister. She was tired, hungry, and most likely had blisters on her feet just as bad as your own. The anger on your face melted into concern, and Bo noticed. The two of you shared a look, and you could see the moment that Bo had made up his mind.

With a deep sigh he stood up, and grabbed the car keys on the desk. "Come on then, I ain't got all day."

As he walked out of the building, you grabbed one of the pocket knives on the desk and stuffed it into your pocket...just in case, and then followed him out.

He surprised you by opening the passenger door, waiting for you to get in.

"Didn't realize you were such a gentlemen."

He smirked at you, about to reply when your sister cut in, "I want to sit in the back!"

She was already in the truck bed next to Lester before you could so much as roll your eyes. After you and Bo got into the truck yourselves, he started it up and began driving into town.

"So, what brings ya all the way down here to Ambrose?"

You shrugged, "Just a road trip, we were passing through."

"Yeah, most people do. There ain't much to see down here, 'sides a buncha mosquitos," Bo hummed. "And a wax museum...but it's kinda an eyesore. Definitely overrated."

You hummed in reply

"Do you even get business out here?" you asked curiously.

"You'd be surprised how many people run outta gas, or blow out a tire," Bo glanced at you with a smirk. "Although, I ain't had many people drive straight into the water before. Most people tend to stay on the road, yknow?"

"Fuck you."

Bo's laugh was hearty, and a bit wheezy. You tried to ignore the flip flops your stomach did at hearing it, but a smile still managed to reach your lips.

You stared at the scenery for a while, thinking about all the things you'd have to sort out once you got into town. You'd definitely need some new clothes, and a shower...you were sure you'd begun to smell pretty awful.

"Sorry for getting your truck all gross," you gestured to your damp and sweaty clothes.

"Nah, don't worry 'bout it. Lester stunk it up long 'fore you got here."

You huffed out a small laugh, catching the way his lip curled when he grinned. You relished in the warm feeling in your stomach upon seeing it, until you glanced out the window and saw that he was pulling into the parking lot of a small restaurant.

"What are you doing?"

"I'm hungry, and I'll bet you and your sister back there are too after all that walkin'," Bo replied, getting out of the truck, walking around to your side to open the door.

"I-"

"You can consider it as your payment for havin' me chauffeur you all over town."

"You drove me ten miles down the road...that's not exactly going all over town," you retorted, folding your arms. "And I don't want to buy you dinner."

Bo just smiled at you, and began to walk into the restaurant, expecting you to follow him. Your sister ran up beside you, droning on about whatever she and Lester had been talking about. Bo stood at the door, holding it open expectantly at you. What were you gonna do? Walk to the nearest hotel? With an angry huff, you shoved past him, sending a scathing look his way. His smirk was smug towards you.

The restaurant was pretty old, but full of people. The food smelled good, at least...and you were hungry.

"Alright, so you grab a tray, and then walk over to that lovely lady behind the counter to tell you what you want-"

"I know how to order," you bit out to Bo, as he leaned away from your ear. He simply smirked at you and then looked back up the menu hanging above the food line.

"Damn, that steak sounds pretty good..."

"Don't you fucking dare," you hissed, earning a glance from your sister. Her eyes flitted between you and Bo, and then she grinned at you. The look you gave her was enough to keep her mouth shut, but her grin spoke paragraphs.

Eventually, the four of you made it through the line. You'd been nervous when Bo ordered, but was relieved when he picked something cheap; reciting it as though he'd done it a thousand times before. You grabbed a cup and swiftly walked over to the drink fountain, filling it with water...since you hadn't had anything to drink in hours. You turned to head to the table you saw Lester and your sister sitting at, only to run straight into Bo and spill water down your already damp front.

"Need me to carry that for ya, sweetheart?" he drawled, eyes lidded.

"No, I've got it," you bit out, rushing away from him as fast as you could.

Sitting down, you picked at your food with your fork. Your stomach felt a bit queasy, just from the entire ordeal you'd been through that day, so you didn't eat much. You focused on sipping your water, instead.

Bo sat down across from you, his legs hitting yours as he stretched them out obnoxiously far. You glared up at him, but he pretended to not notice. When you shoved at his leg, he just smiled at you, and ate a bite of his meal, stretching his legs even farther into your space.

"So, Lester said you had a twin, Bo," your sister said. "Is he as handsome as you?"

Bo snorted, "He wishes."

"Uh...Vince has a...his face 's got a lotta scars," Lester said awkwardly. "He and Bo were conjugated."

"Conjoined, dipshit," Bo barked. "The fucker stole half of the back of my head, and never gave it back."

"He might still be holdin' a grudge, since you got half his face."

Bo turned to Lester, who was failing to hold back a grin, and smacked him upside the head. Lester let out a loud laugh, and you couldn't help but feel a bit amused.

"So, are you the baby brother?" your sister grinned at Lester, who turned red.

"Yeah ma'am, s'pose I am..."

You sipped at your water, making an effort not to guzzle it down.

"Not hungry?" Bo asked, nudging your ankle with his foot.

You looked back down at your food, "Not really...it's been a long day."

Your sister took that as confirmation that she could help herself to it, but you couldn't bring yourself to care. You felt Bo's eyes on you the entire time, but you tried to ignore him.

Lester spoke to your sister, both of them enjoying each other's company and friendly banter. You could hear them, but your mind didn't process anything they said. You simply continued to sip your water, mentally going over what you would need to do once you were a hotel somewhere.

You were abruptly torn from your thoughts when Bo's boot nudged your foot, aggravating the blisters that had already formed there. You winced and irritatingly looked up at Bo, only to find him leaning back and looking over at Lester. Rolling your eyes you looked away, glancing over at the desserts in the corner. Your eye twitched when you felt his boot touch your foot again, a bit more strongly than before. It wasn't until the fourth time he did it that you finally snapped your head over to glare at him, only to have him get up from the table and walk off. You slumped in your seat grumpily, running your finger along the rim of your cup of water.

You blinked when a piece of pie was set down in front of you.

"Ooh thanks!" your sister exclaimed, when Bo set another piece down in front of her.

You stared at Bo as he sat back down across from you, with his own piece.

"Come on now, don't tell me you ain't got room for dessert, at least?" Bo incredulously remarked, biting into his own.

You huffed, "Not when I'm the one paying for it..."

Bo snorted, "Come on, just eat it 'fore it gets dust on it. If you don't like it, you can have mine."

Sighing, you took a bite of your piece, and found it much more enjoyable than you'd expected.

"Good, ain't it?" Bo smirked, and you resisted the urge to flip him off.

You watched tiredly as your sister devoured her own piece, telling Lester about the gator they'd seen out their window earlier that day. It hadn't been that impressive...a tiny little thing, really, but Lester seemed entranced by the conversation nonetheless. You smiled at a joke he made, when you heard a clinking noise from in front of you. Glancing down, your eyes widened at the sight of Bo quickly snatching his fork, which had snagged a large chunk of your pie, back and shoving it into his mouth.

"Hey!"

"You were lettin' get all nasty!" he defended himself, laughing and wincing as you kicked at his legs.

Your sister was snickering at the two of you, when Bo's phone starting buzzing. He pulled it out, and answered it with a sigh.

"Yeah? No we're fine, we'll be home in a little while," he said. "Yeah sorry...forgot to tell you. Okay, bye."

Bo hung up, and then stood, "Guess we'll have to get a move on. I forgot it's movie night."

"Oh yeah!" Lester exclaimed. "Vince is probably so mad..."

"He'll live," Bo rolled his eyes, heading towards the door.

"Wait...aren't I supposed to pay?" you frowned, confused.

Bo smirked, "Nah, I already paid. Come on."

Your mouth hung open as he walked off, and you couldn't tell if you were relieved or infuriated. Deciding it was the latter, you stormed up to him as he pulled open the door of his truck to let you in. Getting up in his face, you hissed, "You did that all on purpose, you jackass!"

"Sure did," he winked. "What're you gonna do?"

You just huffed at him and crawled into your seat, glaring at him as he shut the door and began to walk to his side. Suddenly struck with an evil idea, you leaned over and locked his door. The smirk on his face fell, and he stared at you through the window.

"The hell are you doin'?"

You flipped him off, earning a fiery glare in response.

"Open the damn door!" he demanded, before sending you a confused smile. "This is my truck!"

You just casually sat on your side, seeing your sister and Lester watch everything unfold from the back window, and smirked at him.

He tugged harshly on the door handle, jiggling it as if that would magically unlock it, "If you don't open this door, I'm gonna call the cops!"

You rolled your eyes, "You've got keys dumbass."

Bo froze, his cheeks heating up in embarrassment, as he reached into his pocket and pulled out his car keys. You could hear Lester howl in laughter, and Bo yelling at him to shut up. He practically slammed the door shut behind him as he got in, turning to give you a scathing glare.

"...Where to, sweetheart?" he bit out lowly, his eyes burning.

"Hotel please," you replied with a smile.

He started the engine and then began the short drive into town, sending you angry glances every so often.

"Don't be like that," you grinned. "I was just getting even."

He just fumed in embarrassed silence, his grip on the steering wheel white-knuckled. You frowned, realizing he'd gotten much angrier than you'd expected.

"I'm sorry, I was just messing with you," you sighed. "Thanks for giving my sister and I a ride...you didn't have to."

He grunted in affirmation, his grip loosening a bit.

"And for putting up with how bad I must smell."

At that, Bo let out a soft laugh, "Nah, I've smelled worse, trust me."

The rest of the car ride was comfortably silent, with the two of you occasionally making eye contact with each other. Soon, a hotel came into view, and you tried to ignore the feeling of disappointment in your chest. It only grew heavier as he pulled into the parking lot there.

"Well, here ya are," he said, not looking at you.

"Thank you," you assured him, opening the door to get out.

You paused, reaching into your pocket to pull out the knife, and held it out to him.

"Is that...did you snag one of my knives?" he asked with a laugh, eyebrows raised in surprise.

"Yeah..." you mumbled. "Sorry I just..."

"You're smarter than I thought. You keep it," he chuckled, a glimmer of admiration in his eyes, and shoved it back towards you. "Somethin' to remember me by. Besides, you know where I'm at if you ever wanna look at this handsome face again."

The heaviness in your stomach lifted at that realization, and you smiled at him. Leaning over, you gave him a kiss on the cheek, to which he stiffened and stared at you in surprise.

"I'll see you around, Bo," you said, getting out of the truck.

He nodded, beet red and adjusting the collar of his shirt, while Lester climbed into the passenger seat.

"Y'all be safe," Lester said with a smile.

You and your sister waved at them as they drove off, a bit sad when they finally disappeared down the road.

Your sister nudged you in the side, "You're welcome."

"For what?"

"Wrecking the car," she grinned. "If it weren't for me, you would never have met Mr. Handsome."

You kicked at her shins, "Shut up."

"We're goin' to see them again tomorrow, right?"

"Of course."

[rai-wick]

Gally x Reader Chapter 25: The scorch

Y/N' S P.O.V

"Come on!" We bolted up towards the fences "Come on, go! Go! We'll lose them in the storm!" We slid behind a sandy bank and watched the soldiers ride along on motorcycles.

"Okay, everybody, go go go. Stay low! Stay low!"Thomas whispered as we crouched "Teresa, hang on. Stay together"

"I think we lost them"Minho yelled.

"Keep going guys!"

"Watch out! Where are we even going?"

"Come on, Aris. Let's go. Come on!"

"Over here!" I put my arm to my face to block the winds, spotting a glass building of some sort.

"Come on!"Teresa ran towards it.

"No Teresa don't!" I ran after her. She looked down into a gaping hole and slid down.

"Get down here!"I cautiously followed her with Minho following me.

"Can you hold this?"I nodded as Minho riffled through his bag for a flashlight and turned it on. He shone it around the room, checking for dangers "Where the hell are we?"

"We gotta go"Thomas gestured for us to keep moving "We-ve got-"

"No! Thomas stop!" Teresa shouted making us all turn to her "Tell me what's going on"Thomas sighed as we all huddled.

"It's WICKD. They lied to us. We never escaped. Me and Aris, we found bodies. Too many to count"

"What do you mean? Dead bodies?"Minho whispered in shock.

"No, but they weren't alive either. They had them strung up. With tubes coming out of them"I ran a hand over my face as he continued "They were...They were being drained. There's something inside of us that WICKD wants. Something in our blood. So we have to get as far away from them as possible"

"Okay"Newt sighs"So, what's the plan?"

"You do have a plan right?"I crossed my arms as Thomas shook his head slightly.

"Yeah, I don't know"

"Well, we followed you out here, Thomas, and now you're saying you have no idea where we're going or what we're doing" Newt told him, the shake in his voice evident.

"Wait, Janson said something about people hiding in the mountains"Aris spoke "Some kind of resistance or army"

"The Right Arm"Thomas said. For some reason that name sounded vaguely familiar,  "The Right Arm. If they're really against WICKD, maybe they can help us"

"People" Newt looked from Aris to Thomas"In the mountains? Mountain people? That's your plan?"

"It's the only chance we have" We were interrupted by Winston who called out.

"Hey guys, come check this out"We went over to where we was kneeling "Minho, gimme a light" We saw footprints in the sand "Someone's been down here"We cautiously walked down and peered into a run down shop door. Minho shone his flashlight in before pulling the door open. We carefully explored the area.

"Looks like people lived here"Minho held up a dusty shirt.

"Where are they now?"I wondered aloud, gazing around with a flashlight.

"Let's pack some of this stuff up"Thomas dusted off a hoodie and pulled it on "Anything you think you might need. We'll split up, see what else we can find. Meet back here" Newt threw him a flashlight before Minho, Thomas, Winston and  Aris left. I checked boxes for anything useful but found nada.

"Hey _____"I looked up as Newt approached me "I think you might need this"He handed me a switchblade that was quite similar to the one I lost in the Glade. I wiped the dust off before smiling back at him.

"Thanks Newt"He patted my shoulder as I heard Theresa gasp.

"You alright?"He called out to her.

"I'm fine"We heard her reply. I packed some clothes, a spare flashlight,a few empty water bottles and some sheets that could be used as bandages. I saw Frypan look over to where Teresa was pulling on a shirt.I rolled my eyes as Newt turned Frypan's face back to his bag with a grin.

"What?" We finished packing as the lights flickered on. I slipped the blade into my pocket and we walked out, meeting up with Winston and Aris.

"What's going on?" Winston's question was answered by Thomas and Minho's yelling.

"Run!"We saw them sprinting towards us following by growling creatures.

"Oh shit!"Newt exclaimed and we ran.

"Thomas, Minho, what the hell are those things?"I shouted as we darted up the broken escalators.

"I don't know, just keep going!" We turned onto the floor but halted as one charged towards us. Aris ran at at it with a bat, hitting it in the legs and knocking it over. It leaped at Teresa and Thomas, separating them from us as the others arrived behind us.

"Go around, we'll meet you there!"I nodded and climbed the other escalators. Thomas and Teresa came running down the line of shops as we climbed up.

"Come on!"We looked for an exit. I heard a crash behind me and saw one of them on top of Newt.

"Newt!"I ran to him and kicked the creature through the railing "Are you alright?"I helped him up.

"Yeah, thanks ____"He gasped.

"Through here! Let's go! They're coming!"We turned into a narrow passage way. Thomas pulled at a door to no avail.

"Just keep going!"Frypan yelled as the creatures came through.

"It's a dead end!"Minho groaned as we faced an empty wall. I banged on the chained door.

"Get us out of here Thomas!"Teresa cried out.

"This one!"I yelled, gesturing for help.

"I'll hold them back!"Winston fired at the creatures while we pushed against the door "Get that door open!"He hollered as the creatures came closer.

"Move!"Frypan made a running jump and burst the lock "Come on! It's open!" I grasped Winston's arm, running through before being yanked back as one of them got hold of him.

"Winston!"

"Help me!"We all grabbed him and pulled while Minho and Thomas tried to shut the door. He screamed as the creatures dug their claws into his stomach. We finally got a hold of him and Frypan helped him up.

"Go go!"Thomas shouted and we sprinted with him following moments later.

"Over there!"I pointed to a grove hidden underneath the rubble and we all slid under, switching off our flashlights, hardly daring to breathe.

~THE NEXT MORNING~

"Hey, hey! Get outta here!"I woke up to Thomas yelling. Groaning, I got up from where I was squashed between Minho and Frypan.

"Are they gone?"Newt asked as we got up.

"Yeah, I think we're safe for now" I grimaced and stretched, easing my bones awake.

"We should get moving"Winston let out a deep groan as he tried to move.

"Hey man"Frypan held a hand out to him "You okay?"Nodding, he got up. I handed him his bag with a soft smile.  We climbed up and saw the wasteland ahead of us. There were buildings in ruins, covered in overgrown yet dried out plants and sand. We began making our way through.

"What the hell happened to this place?"Frypan asked as we walked.

"I don't know"Newt replied"It doesn't look like anyone's been here in a long time"

"I hope the whole world's not like this"Aris added. I sighed in agreement.

"Whoa, whoa! Hang on, stop"I looked back to see Thomas at a stand still "Do you hear that?" The wind whistled as we heard the whirring of helicopter blades "Get down! Everybody hide! Hide! Hide!" We scrambled under a fallen block of cement, watching as 2 small planes and a large helicarrier passed by.

"They're never gonna stop looking for us, are they?" Minho said, his tone heavy. We climbed onwards, looking for an exit out of the city.

"A little further guys"We climbed a sand dune, panting as we reached the top. I saw the outline of mountains amongst the ruins of the city.

"Those mountains, that's gotta be it"I told them.

"That's where we're going"Thomas nodded.

"That's a long way off"Newt pointed out.

"Then we better get moving"I concluded. Just as we were about to continue, Winston fell down in a faint.

"Winston!" He was gasping for air as we crowded around him.

"He's hurt pretty bad"

"What do we do?"Teresa asked. Thomas stood up and stared into the distance before grabbing some sticks.

"______, have you got rope?"I dug through my bag and handed him the rope. I helped him make a makeshift bed for Winston, lining it with clothes, using his bag as a pillow. Aris and Teresa layed Winston down inside it.

"We'll take it in turns to bring him, alright?"We all nodded in agreement.

"I'll take the first turn"Frypan picked up one side.

"Me too"Minho grabbed the other handle. I picked Minho's bag up and strapped it to mine. We continued walking on towards the mountains.

"Hang in there Winston" We walked for what seemed hours until the winds began to get harsh, the sand blowing around, making us cough and wince even with our scarfs on.

"We gotta find shelter!"Thomas shouted, carrying Winston with Newt at the front and Minho and Frypan at the back.

"Follow me!"I put my arm in front of my face as we made our way to a pile of rocks and an over turned rusted car. We laid Winston down and got some rest, waiting for the wind to calm down. I gulped down my water, watching Thomas and Teresa talk.

"How's it looking?"Newt asked them.

"It's a little further"Thomas replied.

"That's not very convincing"I looked back at the feverish Winston and sighed deeply.

"It's going to be okay"Frypan's voice making me turn back. I swallowed and nodded. We sat in a comfortable silence until we heard a gunshot. We jumped, turning to see Winston holding a gun to his mouth.

"Hey! Guys, get down here!"I yelled to Teresa and Thomas while running to Winston.

"Winston, what are you doing man?"

"Give me that!"

"What's going on?"Thomas asked, rushing over.

"What happened?"

"I don't know"Frypan replied "He just woke up and grabbed the gun and then he tried to..._"

"Give it back, please"Winston was on all fours, panting and reaching out for the gun in Frypan's hand.

"Winston, are you okay?"I knelt beside him just before he retched onto the ground. He coughed before laying on his back, taking shaky breaths.

"It's growing..."He pulled up his shirt to reveal a blackened stomach covered in claw marks"...inside me" I bit my lip in worry as he shook his head "I'm not gonna make it. Please, please" He reached his arm out "Don't let me turn into one of those things" Frypan turned the gun over in his hand. We all stared at him then Newt took the gun from Frypan.

"Wait, Newt..."Thomas began. Newt walked to Winston, crouched beside him and placed the gun in his hand.

"Thank you"He whispered in a hoarse tone "Now, get out of here"

"Good-bye Winston"He got up and picked up his bag. Frypan patted his best friend's shoulder before turning away. I smiled softly at Winston to which he gave a weak one in return. I hugged Frypan tightly before we walked away. We had travelled a good distance before we heard a ringing gunshot. We stopped in our tracks once again being reminded of what freedom costs.

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

[harcourtholmesii]

In This Here, Beautiful World... (Part 1)

Fandoms: Team Fortress 2

Pairings: Medic X Heavy / Scout X Miss Pauling / Scout’s Ma X Spy / Soldier X Zhanna / Engineer X Original Character / Saxton Hale X Maggie

Warnings: - Swearing - Physical Abuse and Violence - Verbal Abuse - Minor Gore - Implied Death

Words: 1913

Summary: When the world goes to shit, in order to survive, you need to be ruthless, and you need to be prepared to do whatever it takes. When nine strangers and their families come together to fight back the zombie plague, tensions will rise between them all, threatening to pull them apart and kill them from the inside-out. It’s a shitty summary, I know. ^^

Enjoy!

‘Hey! Yo! I got a delivery here for a Mister Brookes!’

 Jeremy hammered his fist against the door, louder than the first time. He had been standing out here for a good twenty minutes, waiting for this douchebag to open the door. The boss would kill him if he returned with cold pizza or if he got a call from the tenant saying he never received the order.

 Jeremy shifted from foot to foot, his sneakers squeaking lightly against the cracked linoleum floor. He couldn’t just wait here forever! He was already running behind schedule and he needed the money!

 He pounded his fist against the door again; a neighbour poked her careworn face out her door to peer at the disturbance.

 ‘D-Do you mind keeping it down, young man?’

 ‘I wouldn’t have to be loud if this guy would just open the door!’ He continued to pound his fist, hearing how the hinges whined under his abuse.

 The old lady shut her door when it became obvious he wouldn’t stop. For a moment, the thought came to Jeremy’s mind that she might be calling the cops. He wouldn’t stay here anymore if that was the case, and he sure as shit wasn’t leaving a perfectly good pizza on this ungrateful dick’s doorstep.

 He stomped down the hall, passing by the old lady’s door. He could hear her speaking to someone on the inside, but he didn’t stop to wait for the sound of sirens. It wasn’t like he was trying to disturb the peace; he just wanted some fucking tips!

 He leapt onto the railing of the stairwell, letting his weight skirt him down the metal of the banister. He whipped down one flight, and then another, until his feet planted themselves firmly on the first floor. He pushed the glass doors out of his way, the frame cracking loudly against the brick of the building.

 He trotted down the stairs, looking about left and right for some dumpster. Instead, the sight of an older man pushing a small trolley of garbage bags and raggedy clothes caught his eye. Jeremy felt the anger lessen, if only a little. He hated seeing people roaming the streets like this, without a home or place to go to. Filthy rich dickheads and politicians wouldn’t spare a single coin to them and it made him sick.

 He approached and simply cleared his throat to get the scraggly man’s attention. He couldn’t see his eyes beneath the unwashed hair, but as he offered the pizza pie to him, those hands shook excitedly, reaching out and taking it with hesitance. Those tanned hands opened up the box, the smell of melted cheese and cooked meat wafting into the air.

 ‘T-Thank you…’ Jeremy just nodded, offering him a lazy wave of ‘don’t worry about it’. He took off at full sprint down the street, leaving behind the apartment and the man in his dust. He had to be quick back to the restaurant, so his manager wouldn’t get pissy.

 He ran at great speed down the bustling city streets, dodging about those that got in his path. Families, businessmen and construction workers had little time to part ways for him. He compensated for their lack of awareness by leaping over the guard railings, jumping the hoods of stationary traffic and racing through the wavering legs of scaffolding. He got the odd call from some of the workers, but it had become a common enough practice, Jeremy was almost ignored by bystanders.

 The wind whipped his hair and face, threatening to throw the delivery cap off his head. Finally, he rounded a corner and into the shop, in time to see his boss glowering from across the counter.

 ‘You’re late.’

 ‘Yeah.’ He muttered, replacing the empty pack onto the shelf. He threw himself into compiling the list of orders and strangling his waist with a rubber apron. ‘I know. I know. Guy wasn’t home or was ignorin’ me. I tried!’

 ‘So what happened to the order?’

 He hated the shakedown. This was not the first time that Jeremy had arrived back to the store, hands empty of payment.

 ‘I just left it on the doorstep.’

 ‘Are you kidding me, Jeremy?’ The boy rolled his eyes, roughly taking the pizza cutter and beginning his work on dividing the pie apart. A fly buzzed in his ear, which he swatted away in disgust. ‘You know to wait for the customer to open the door!’

 ‘I woulda been there the whole fuckin’ afternoon!’ He barked back, cutting into the pizza harder than he meant to. The box splintered beneath the pressure and the blade near sliced his fingers. He slammed the lid down, and started upon the next one.

 ‘Did you call them?’

 ‘The phone’s been broke’ for a while now! I can’t call them with that garbage!’ He was lucky that this place had been so lax with language. He and the manager often shared bouts of abuse, but it made it easier to adapt. Instead of shutting his lips, he could hurl curses back at the useless prick behind the counter. He knew it tested the man’s patience, and certainly didn’t encourage the man to keep him around, but he put in the effort. And the man couldn’t deny that he was the best delivery boy he had, not to mention the only one.

 ‘You keep this shit up, Jeremy, and you’ll be outta here faster than your mother can pump out another brat!’

 Oh, now that was too far!

 Jeremy could take this shit when it was aimed at him, but at his family, at his ma specifically, he wouldn’t stand for it. He didn’t even want to work at this shitty pizza place anyway!

 He threw off the smock, tossing the prepared pizzas across the steel table and at his ex-manager. He leapt over it, and with hands clenched, hit him once across the nose. There was the spatter of blood and the satisfying crack of cartilage, as the man was sent reeling back and into the tubs of sauce.

 Barbecue, crème fraiche and tomato sauce went flying all about, coating the man head to toe in the expired spreads. Jeremy tore his shirt as he ripped his nametag off and tossed it into the dickhead’s shocked face. Guess he hadn’t been expecting someone like Jeremy to fight back.

 Jeremy may have been scrawnier than his brothers, but he was fast, and more than a little anger fuelled his strength. He leaned down on the tile, gripping the man’s collar tight and lifting up the mess just enough that they nearly met nose-to-nose.

 ‘Don’t you ever talk about my ma again! You even look in her direction, even get one whiff of her perfume, and you’ll lose those nuts of yours, you got that?!’ He dropped the shaking mess of a manager back into the sea of red, white and brown.

 Then Jeremy stormed out, slamming the door shut behind him.

 He didn’t run off like he had done to get to the restaurant. He took his time, instead, to simmer down. He didn’t want his ma to see him like this. He knew she’d be disappointed that he lost another job, and he couldn’t just tell her what that dickhead had said. He just hoped she would forgive him for being so brash.

 He passed by a number of stores, all at various points of shutting down for the afternoon or for good. Graffiti created a continuous line for him to follow along; signatures, doodles and even grand pieces of street art provided a guide as to his location, wherever he was in the city. An electronics store was still playing the local news as he passed it by, detailing some local flu hotspots, and an old music shop had been packed up into several wooden boxes.

 The townhouse he lived in with his ma was at the end of a long street, between two apartment buildings that crammed it tightly between them. It appeared as if squashed by the neighbouring buildings; three storeys tall, with a pair of windows to each floor. It was an icky cream colour, with a small rooftop garden that had two lines of wet clothes waving about in the breeze.

 Jeremy plucked a key from beneath the mat and entered inside. The lights were on, and he could hear in the room to his left their old, junk box playing some fitness program. He sighed, feeling his shoulders sag as he attempted to release his fuming breath and calm himself before he met his ma.

 She spoke first when he entered the living room.

 ‘You’re home early.’

 She pulled herself back up from a stretch, turning to offer him the warmest smile he ever did see. He stuttered with apologies, attempting to tell her what happened without mentioning what that asshole had said. She just fluttered her hand, as if shooing away his discomfort and his excuses, rounding the old couch and bringing him into a hug.

 He relaxed immediately, returning the affection with a tight squeeze.

 ‘I’m sorry.’

 ‘Don’t be. You can always find another job; one much more suitable for the fine, young man you are.’ She said. His ma always knew exactly what to say. ‘I couldn’t be more proud of my boy. You held out for six months, Jeremy. You blew your last record right out of the water!’

 He huffed a breath of laughter, the only sound he could manage with all this praise. He knew, through the smile and the gentle words, that his ma was a little bit upset. He needed a job; just so he could support her as his brothers did, if not just himself. Her work as a pre-school teacher had been able to keep them all above water, but the old townhouse was falling apart without the necessary care.

 His two eldest brothers, Mark and Kieran, had left about a year ago; both of them attempting to pursue some apprenticeships in engineering and hospitality. The third oldest, his brother Blake, had been talking with their ma recently about moving in with his girlfriend out of state.

 Lucas, Julien and Oliver had stayed in school, but hadn’t gotten the grades to gain any kind of scholarship. They were still at work, no doubt, doing more than Jeremy ever could. They could put up with the bullshit demands of customers, and the abuse from their managers. But this was the third job that Jeremy had left behind this year alone.

 ‘Why don’t you come sit down, and you can tell me what really happened?’ She kissed his cheek and guided him to the lounge. The fitness program was switched to the news, but turned down until the broadcast was a mere mutter.

 Jeremy felt embarrassed to say much to her, but he knew that his ma wanted to hear what he had to say. As he spoke, detailing the list of demands he had suffered through that day, the news station switched headlines. Unbeknownst to Jeremy or his ma, a fast-acting viral infection was rapidly spreading through several different hotspots across the city. If they had been paying any mind, they would have seen the havoc being caused from the crappy cellphone footage.

 They only noticed when a scream radiated from the television, the one recording the chaos suddenly on the ground.

 Another, sickly man, had his face buried deep into his intestines.

[crossbows-and-moonshine]

Let The Flames Begin (Chapter 13)

Bit of a long one for you guys!

-----------------------

Daryl’s brain slowly roused from sleep, in that halfway space between being awake and being asleep. He groaned softly as a jolt went straight to his dick, one that reverberated throughout his entire body. He tightened his arm around something, his brain was too fuzzy to make sense of anything. His eyes fluttered open and his body went rigid when he realised that something was Charlene. He was spooning her from behind and the jolt of pleasure was because he was fucking humping her ass like a damn dog. He held his breath, stock-still as he waited for her to start shouting, turn around and smack him or something for being such a creep. But a soft snore left her lips and he breathed a sigh of relief, his whole body relaxing as he realised she was asleep, none the wiser to what a fucking perv he was.

She started stirring in his arms and he panicked. His instinct was to recoil from her, fucking run and dive out the damn window and never show his face again. But he knew if he pulled away now, it would look weird, so instead, he feigned sleep. He closed his eyes and slowed his breathing down, trying to act like he wasn't awake, like he hadn't been rubbing his morning wood against that pretty ass and that he wasn't a creep. He heard her yawn, yet she made no move to get away from him. Then he felt her hand come to lay over his that was splayed on her belly. It was then he noticed his hand was under her shirt, splayed on the soft bare flesh on her stomach and his throat tightened, his heart beating even faster in his chest. He was sure she’d be able to feel the fucking thing as it wildly thumped against his chest. She was stroking his hand, laying there seemingly relaxed and his brain was short-circuiting. Why hadn't she moved away? Why was so she relaxed lay with him touching her like that like it was normal? It didn't compute in his head, not against the facts that he already knew. That he was redneck trash, a Dixon and no woman that was in her right mind and sober would ever give him the time of day, and certainly not one as pretty as Charlene. It was like two jigsaw pieces that just wouldn't fit together as the facts in his brain wouldn't mesh with the girl just lay there stroking his hand.

His brain just melted, he no longer had a brain and he switched off, just laying here pretending to be asleep. Soon enough, his eyes started to get heavy again as he just enjoyed the sensation of holding her, of feeling her skin under his hand. This was the closest he had ever been to her and he was soaking up every damn second of it. When he woke again it was around an hour later and this time he was alone. He frowned a little as he rubbed his eyes, sitting up and glancing around. He was a little glad she wasn't here so he wouldn't feel so awkward about what he had done earlier, but he also hated waking up without her. If my brain could just take a fuckin’ chill pill for a second, that would be great…

He got up, stuffing his boots on before trudging out of the room. The treehouse was eerily quiet and he squinted, looking around and seeing no sign of Merle or the girl. He walked out to the decking, looking over the rails and he saw them in the huge garden. It looked like Merle had spray-painted a target on the side of the wooden shed and he was getting Charlene to throw her knife at it. She didn't look happy at all and from what he could see, her aim was god awful. He climbed down the ladder and made his way over to them.

“I don't wanna do this anymore Merle, I can’t do it!” Charlene huffed, almost whining as she glared at the older brother.

“Ya can’t do it if ya don’t practice! So quit ya whinin’ and throw the damn knife again!” Merle barked, all business it seemed. Daryl was well aware his brother could be a hard ass. He had grown up with his brother riding his ass since he was a young boy, busting his balls to ‘make him a man’.

“It's stupid!” Charlene glowered, actually stomping her foot and Daryl snorted, drawing attention to him as he stood there.

“Daryl please! Tell him to leave me alone! I can’t do it,” she whined, looking at him with wide eyes all innocent-like. Daryl smirked, crossing his broad arms across his chest as he quirked a brow at her. He knew she was pulling the same shit she did over the damn peaches, batting her lashes at him like he would just give in.

“Daryl ain't gonna tell me shit little lady. Throwin’ a knife ain't stupid, it's a good skill to have. Ya can’t shoot a gun yet and sometimes it's best to keep distance ‘tween you and the dead fucks, unless ya want ‘em to take a chunk outta ya ass. So get the knife and throw it again!” Merle ordered harshly, glaring at her. Daryl raised his brows with a nod, his brother made a good point. It was also useful to hunt with sometimes, watching a squirrel running up a tree, just throw the fucking knife at it and bam, you got dinner.

She turned her big green eyes back to him then and he looked at her amused and shook his head.

“Nah, I ain't gettin’ involved. He’s right Tiny, ya need to learn this shit. Just keep practisin’ a bit,” Daryl insisted, making her groan and squeeze her eyes shut. Daryl walked over to the picnic table in the garden next to them, sitting on the top of it so he could observe her, give her any pointers if he needed to. After a few more failed attempts it was clear that even though Merle was riding her ass hard, he wasn't really showing her how to do it right and Daryl started getting aggravated.

“Shit Merle, why ya gettin’ her to throw it by the blade? It's a bowie knife, she needs to throw it from the handle since its blade heavy,” Daryl sighed like it was obvious. Both Charlene and Merle turned their eyes to him and he smirked a little by his brother's annoyed face, like he was stepping on his toes by giving actual helpful advice.

“The handle?” Charlene asked, making him nod. She nibbled her lip before turning back around, holding the handle now instead of the blade and when she threw it, it hit the edge of the target. A huge improvement from it flying right over the damn thing like every other shot she had made. Merle sneered, making Daryl snort a laugh at him, feeling his own chest swelling with a little pride that he had been useful.

He stood up, walking over as she went to grab the knife again. When she came back, he stood behind her to the side, gripping her wrist.

“Ya wanna lock ya wrist a little, make sure its a smooth release. Ya gotta stop thinkin’ about it as throwin’ a knife. Just let ya hand slide off the knife as ya follow it through,” he instructed, letting go of her wrist and standing back a little. She nodded, looking deep in concentration, exhaling a deep breath. Daryl and Merle watched her as she took another shot, trying to listen to Daryl's advice. Once again it was closer to the centre of the target. She beamed a smile looking so proud of herself it was fucking adorable.

“See, there ya go. Ol’ Merle came through for ya, told ya if ya practised ya could do it,” Merle grinned, looking all smug. Daryl squinted at him and shook his head.

“Ol’ Merle? Ol’ Merle did fuck all. She couldn't throw worth shit until I came out here and told her how to do it right,” He snorted loudly, making Charlene bite her lower lip so she didn't laugh. She liked it when the brothers did this playful banter. It was rare, usually it was serious insults.

“Hold on there a damn second sleepin’ beauty. I wasn't the one up there snorin’ away. I was down here with her teachin’ her useful shit,” Merle huffed as he pulled a face at his brother.

“I might have been sleepin’ but I still managed to come down here and help her throw right in a few seconds,” Daryl smirked at him, enjoying rubbing it in his face.

“Ah go fuck yaself ya little shit head,” Merle scoffed.

“You both helped, so thank you,” Charlene finally spoke up, retrieving the knife and putting it on the belt Merle had given her.

“She’s just sayin’ that so she don’t hurt ya feelin’s,” Daryl grinned, a small laugh escaping his lips when Merle swatted him on the back of the head. It was nice like this, just having a laugh, no drama or tension, no usual bullshit.

Around lunch and Daryl was sat on the end of a huge ass bed, he couldn't tear his eyes away from Charlene as she rummaged through the closet excitedly. Daryl and Merle had cleared the main house. There were no biters since the family that lived here had met their demise in the treehouse, and if they were all honest, they were curious how the folk on the other side of the tracks lived. They wouldn't sleep in here, the treehouse was still safer with how high up it was, but it didn't mean they couldn't scavenge the place and just enjoy what shit these people once had. Merle was of course in the kitchen, Daryl wondered if he was still looking for the fancy-ass champagne his brother couldn't even pronounce.

“Ohhh! Fancy!” Charlene cooed, still in the closet as Daryl’s lips tugged into a smile. He found her adorable, he was quite content with just sitting there and watching her get excited by clothes. She pulled out a floor-length black dress on the hanger, turning around and holding it in front of her.

“Pretty right?” she grinned, making him swallow thickly as his eyes looked her up and down, imagining just what that dress would look like on her.

“Yeah,” he muttered, not really talking about the dress but she didn't fucking know, so it didn't matter. She turned back around, looking some more and Daryl was back to watching her.

“A man of so many words,” she snorted to herself, making him squint playfully at her even though she wasn't even looking at him.

“Be glad I don't talk too much like Merle,” he said, smirking when she glanced over her shoulder at him with a horrified expression. Merle talked enough for the fucking three of them and then some.

She moved to face him, leaning against the door frame as she smiled at him.

“I remember the time you spoke more than like two words to me for the first time, do you remember?” she asked with a snort. He felt his ears burn bright as he lowered his head, like fuck he could forget that. He didn’t know what to make of her remembering it though, it made his stomach feel all weird that she would remember that kind of thing, like it meant something.  He found himself smiling a little, trying to fight it so he didn't sit there with a huge grin on his face whilst she was watching him. He couldn't help but think back to that time though, it was the time when he realised just how much he fucking liked her.

~

Daryl sat in the diner on his own. Merle was doing a stint in prison which meant Daryl was actually holding down a job for once as a mechanic. He was on his lunch break and of course, he came here. He chewed his thumb as he looked over at her. Charlene. He didn't remember a clear distinction between never really seeing her around and then her suddenly being everywhere. She was just there, no matter where he went. He couldn't escape her. He hadn't known who she was at first. She was just a pretty little thing but he always found himself bitter, bitter of his cursed name and the fact that no one like her would ever give him the time of day. She was always nice to him though, polite and smiley, like she didn’t know who he was even though he knew it wasn't true.

Before Merle got put away again, he had been harassing her every damn day, and whenever Daryl was with him he wished the ground would swallow him whole. She never complained though, she took it like a fucking champ until Merle left and he wondered just how she did it. She seemed less tense when he came in the store or diner on his own and he was glad. He didn't want her thinking he was like his asshole brother. They had a few mutual friends and that's how he learnt her name was Charlene, learnt that she was busting her ass off to keep her head above water since her dad had become a worthless drunk. She became more than a pretty face then, but still, the bitterness never left. He knew she was only ever nice because she was being paid to do so, she wouldn't ever think about him the way he did her, not unless she was being given money for it. He hadn't ever really spoke to her. In the store he was silent, never returning her cheery smile. And then when he came here, he would order his food and that was it. He didn't feel worthy to breathe the same air as her, let alone fucking talk to her.

He saw her making her way over to his table and he swallowed thickly, glancing down as he drummed his fingers on the table. Her long hair was down today and it always got to him when she did that. She was wearing a little black skirt and t-shirt with ‘Loretta’s’ written on it, an apron tied around her tiny little waist.

“Hey Daryl, you want the usual?” she asked, her usual bright smile in place. It always unnerved him how she said his name like that. He hadn't ever fucking introduced himself to her and god only knew what she had heard about him if she knew his name.

“Yeah,” he stated gruffly, chancing a look at her as she scribbled his order on the pad. She always remembered his fucking order, but he knew it was her job, it didn't make him special. She was just a good waitress.

“How’s Merle doing?” she asked, nibbling her lower lip and making him look away as he tensed. Anytime anyone mentioned his brother it would get his back up instantly.

“The fuck do you care?” he huffed, regretting it instantly, he hadn't ever given her attitude before.

He looked up at her and she shrugged, giving him a weak smile and he wanted to punch himself in the fucking face.

“He’s annoying but prison can be rough,” was all she supplied, looking nervous now as she toyed with the pad in her hands. He hated how he fucking took that bright smile right off her face, that she seemed like she didn't know how to act around him now.

“It’ll be out in a few,” she smiled weakly when he hadn't said another word, scurrying off to the back to place the order. He heaved a sigh, leaning back in the seat with a groan. Why did he have to fuck things up? He sat there brooding, his mood getting worse by the second as he waited for his food. He saw her coming out again with his plate and drink, walking over.

“One cheeseburger and a cup of coffee. Let me know if you need anything else,” she smiled, but he frowned when she placed another plate down as well as his burger.

“The fucks this? I didn't order no cake,” he huffed, frowning at her as she blushed slightly.

“I know. Loretta let me make the cake today, thought you might wanna try it. Let me know what you think,” she grinned before waltzing back off. He squinted at the cake like it was some kind of trick, that she had given it to him for some weird horrible reason that he wouldn't like. He huffed as he started to eat his food, his eyes following the girl as she flit around, taking people's orders with a smile. When he finished his food, he eyed the cake, it looked good and he shrugged. He wasn't ever one to turn down free fucking food. The fork she put on the plate for it was left by the wayside as he just picked the slice up and took a big bite. His eyes widened a little, damn it tasted good. It was chocolate but he was sure there were some hazelnuts in there or something. It only took a few bites before it was all gone. He found himself wanting more of it now, it was fucking tasty.

“What did you think?” she asked, startling him a little as she suddenly appeared next to him like a fucking ninja. He cleared his throat, his fingers once again drumming on the table again.

“Was good,” he hated himself. So fucking much. He wanted to tell her it was amazing, that it was the best damn cake he had ever tasted and that Loretta should let her make all the fucking cakes from now on. But no, of course his brain could only handle ‘was good.’ She beamed a smile all the same, looking so pleased with herself that Daryl found it hard not to look at her.

“I’m glad you liked it!” she grinned, taking the empty plates before she was off once more. Daryl watched her go, knowing he needed to get back to work. He always hated these moments when he needed to leave, when she wouldn't be in his line of sight again until the next day.

He waited until she went into the back like he always did before he got up, going over to the counter to pay for his food and leaving her a tip. He always left her a fucking tip. He was about to leave when he was halted in his steps.

“Daryl wait!” she called out, hurrying over to him as he turned around, eyeing her warily. She had a little box in her hand and she held it out to him. When he glanced inside he saw a few more slices of cake.

“I just thought maybe you might want some later,” she shrugged, chewing that damn lip again as she looked up at him with her big green eyes.

“I don't need no fuckin’ charity,” he sneered. Wow, well fuckin’ done. Such a social butterfly… Her eyes widened, looking panicked almost as she shook her head.

“I wasn’t...I didn't mean….” she frowned, and he realised he hadn't ever seen a frown grace that pretty little face and now he was causing it. It made his heart squeeze in his chest as he clenched his jaw. Way to go asshole. He stood there, his mouth not moving as she looked like she wanted the ground to swallow her whole, her cheeks turning a pretty shade of pink. Just say sorry, it ain't hard. It's one fuckin’ word, fuckin’ say it jackass! He worked his jaw, no words seeming to come out no matter how much he knew he should say sorry. He was more stubborn than even he realised.

“Thanks,” he muttered glaring at the floor. Wasn’t what he should have said but at least he got words to fucking leave his mouth.

“It's okay,” she squeaked, giving him a shy smile before she scurried off. He heaved a sigh as he walked out, holding the box as he made his way to the truck. He ended up eating another slice of the cake as he sat in the truck, his brain thinking things he had no place thinking about the girl. How it would be to have her cook for him, what it would be like to catch something and have her cook with it. It made his chest feel warm until he remembered that would never fucking happen, not in his wildest dreams. He growled to himself as he tore out of the little parking lot beside the diner, wondering why he kept going there, wondering why he kept torturing himself like this.

~

When he came back to the present she was looking through the closet again and he cleared his throat.

“M’sorry, about bein’ an asshole that day. Didn't really know how to react. Ain’t exactly used to people bein’ nice,” he admitted gruffly, picking at the dirt under his nails. She turned to glance at him, her cheeks tinged pink slightly as she shrugged.

“It's fine. Its all in the past now anyway,” she sighed, sounding sad almost and he watched her little furrowed brow before she turned back around. She pulled out another hanger with some fancy three-piece suit on it as she turned around, an impish grin on her face.

“You should wear this,” she smirked, making him scoff and shake his head with a wry smile.

“I look like I wear suits to you?” he asked, giving her an amused look as she snorted.

“Have you ever worn a suit?” she asked curiously, tilting her head as she looked at him.

“Nah, ain't had a reason to,” he shrugged, watching as she turned back around to put it back.

“I think your arms would look amazing in this,” she muttered, her body freezing as soon as she realized she had said that out loud. Her cheeks went crimson and she didn't dare turn around to face him, maybe if she didn't act like she had said it he wouldn't mention it.

Daryl sat there, his jaw slack as he glared at the back of her head. I gotta be hearin’ things right now. Maybe I’m losin’ my damn mind. He just blinked, his brain trying to soak in the words she had just said to him. She had mentioned his arms and shoulders once before in some kind of compliment that he wasn't even sure if it was a compliment or not. He swallowed thickly, feeling that sense of pride he had the last time growing in his chest. He didn't have a clue what to say. Shit, do I thank her? She ain't looked at me since she said it. What if she didn't mean to say it? His mind was in overdrive, not really knowing how to deal with this kind of situation because he wasn't used to it. He’d had a few girls in the past mention his arms but they were always drunk, as was he, and he just presumed they were talking shit for the sake of it. But he knew Charlene wasn't that kind of girl, so why the fuck did she just come out with that?

She stood there, still unable to look at him and she considered climbing in the closet and never coming back out. He hadn’t said a word and she was too embarrassed to look at him. She didn't know why she had to say that, to make him feel awkward. He probably thought she was ridiculous. Where was Merle when you needed him? The silence was tense and thick, both of them not really knowing what to say and feeling their own sense of embarrassment. She knew she needed to swallow her pride if she ever wanted this tension to fucking leave the room.

“I didn't mean to make you feel awkward again. I’m sorry,” she mumbled as she turned around, cheeks still flaming as they looked at each other. He didn't even know what to say. It wasn't that she made him feel awkward, he just didn't know if she meant to say it and how to deal with the fact she said it at all.

“Ya didn't...I ...uh...Thanks? I guess,” he muttered, looking so bewildered. As Charlene looked at him, how he was acting, it suddenly dawned on her that somehow this incredibly attractive man wasn't used to compliments and she was fucking confused as all hell. He looked like a shy boy, not knowing how to deal with it all and she felt bad that she had put him on the spot like this, she felt bad that he was so unused to receiving compliments it reduced him to this.

She knew giving him space was probably the best option, to avoid any further embarrassment.

“I’m gonna go and see what Merle’s up to,” she said softly, giving him a weary smile before she left the room. He just sat on the end of the bed, the closet was now closed and he could see his reflection glaring back at him. She hadn't meant to say it, that was the only logical explanation in his mind as he stared at himself. Self-worth was none existent to Daryl, he was used to it by now, it was just the way his life was. He had come to terms with the fact he meant nothing a long fucking time ago but it had never been such a fucking hard pill to swallow as it was right now. Knowing that what he wanted would never be within his reach. She ain’t ever gonna be interested in a piece of shit like me.

Taglist; @risingphoenix761​ @daryldixonandfrogs​ @arlaina28​ @divadinag​ @keeperofwonderlandus​ @jodiereedus22​ @easnuppa​ @fand0m-fiend​ @txladyj-blog​

[queen-scribbles]

Survivors

@pillarspromptsweekly fill 101: Recount. This wound up less “ridiculous” and more “alternate view of one of my muses”, but it was still fun to write, so yay?

---

Collected accounts of the “Blue Witch”, recorded by scholars in a variety of locations around the Deadfire, for interested parties.

~~~

“You dunno the Blue Witch? Then thank your lucky stars, mate, an’ steer clear a’ th’ slave trade t’ keep it that way. She’s what scared me straight, y’know. Crookspur was a good gig, lotsa money, no rules ‘side respect th’ captain, the whole ocean was our huntin’ ground. Then one day we see this little ship, pretty thing, looked like easy pickin’s. She was flying colors we didn’t recognize; green an’ yella wit’ an eye and a castle, and her stern named her Mercy.

“*snort* Mercy’s the farthest thing from what we found, I’ll tell ya that right off. They was firin’ at us ‘fore we were even close, got our Cap’n right pissed. She decided against cripplin’ them first, drove us in close t’ take the ship. Ondra as my witness the woman was a fool. Usher keep her, but it was the biggest mistake of her life. My wildest nightmares never prepared me to lay eyes on kith like this. If y’ can even call ‘em all kith.

“Th’ whole crew was armed to their blazin’ teeth, which we’re used to. A sailor with a sword or wizard spitting their spell ain’t enough t’ make our blood run cold. They’re all the same once y’ clap irons on ‘em and break ‘em and stand ‘em on a block for the highest bidder.

“But you know what we ain’t used to?” He thumps his drink emphatically against the table. “Women with feathers and burnin’ swords who fight like Magran Herself. Or a copperfuckin’ shark with legs that was ten feet all if it was an inch. Ondra as my witness, boys, call me crazy, but it was standin’ in front of me surely as you are now. But none of ‘em compared to the blue witch. I ain’t never seen a thing like her before, and I pray to all the gods I never do again. Almost as tall as her walkin’ shark--musta been some kinda thrall, with how well it followed her biddin’--eyes of blue fire, strange glowin’ tattoos all over, no armor. She did nothin’ but look at us and I felt her screamin’ in my damned head, just pure wordless rage that made me wanna jump the blazin’ rail. Mighta gone better for me if I had; Cap’n weren’t in any shape to punish by then.

“Fools we were, we thought we could take ‘em. Thought they’d fetch a price’t’ make up our losses. The feathered warrior, the shark outta water, the blue witch. The crewmates I didn’t see fall to blade, bullets, or spells threw themselves off the ship like their minds weren’t their own t’ drown or be crushed against one a’ the ships. Only reason I’m alive is they thought I weren’t. See these burns, my whole damned chest? Her shark’s doin’. Aye, y’heard me. The fucker can walk, ain’t a surprise it has spells, too. Took out my mate Dren with a rock spike almost big as his head, then got me with fire that struck from the sky. Dunno why I ain’t dead, musta fell in th’ water when I blacked out, woke up on one of the islands, bein’ tended by the locals. They were jabberin’ ‘bout someone they called ‘Watcher’ wipin’ out the nearby slaver presence, so’s I figured best not tell ‘em what I was. Wasn’t plannin’ to do it no more anyway. Scrambled as my head was, I could still hear the blue witch’s screamin’ rage in the back of it. Way she fought, it was clear wipin’ us out was personal for her, an’ if slavin’ might mean runnin’ afoul of her again, with her shark and other creatures followin’ her I wanted no blazin’ part of it no more. I got lucky once, no need to push my fortunes like that. I’d sooner live landlocked in a hovel than worry she was after me.”

~overheard in the Wild Mare, attributed to Honest Joel, storyteller and merchant

~~~

“I was there when the blue witch hit our fortress out near Ori o Koiki.  The kith following her weren’t nothin’ special; elves and folk, though they did their share layin’ waste to our holdin’s, but that blue-skinned witch... Ah, she was a special kinda terrifying. You’ve heard the stories, yeah? Burnin’ eyes, tattoos what glow, shreds yer mind if ya meet her gaze? All true. But don’t think witch tricks are all there is to her, no. Y’see here the crooked set of me jaw?  That’d be her doing. Froze me with a look, cracked me ‘cross the face with her hammer, knocked me clean off the fortress ramparts. Only lived ‘cause I landed atop a pair of mates cheated me at cards the night b’fore, an’ serves ‘em right. Better their necks than mine. I’ll tell you one thing for sure an’ simple, boys: you ever see a woman with skin like sapphire and eyes that could burn right through a man, or glimpse a ship called Mercy, you pray to all the gods who ever helped you and you beg your captain on bended knee if you hafta to steer well clear of her, b’cause I swear by my good eye it’s the only way you’ll see another sunrise. The blue witch don’t spare our kind. Not on purpose.”

~”Half-face” Morrisey, Harbormaster of Port Maje

~~~

“She ain’t no witch by my reckoning. No, she’s some poor sod what perished in the trade and come back as a ghost for her revenge. It’s what I’d do. And her crew must be more a’ the same. Where else d’you find an elf with two voices or a woman part bird or a shark with fuckin’ legs? They’re nightmares from the Beyond itself--if they exist at all.”

~Captain Pegi of the independent slaving vessel Tiama, overheard with her crew while stopped to resupply. She was found three days later by a passing merchant ship, adrift, alone, and barely alive, muttering about the vengeance of the dead.

~~~

[the next several pages are heavily damaged by water, slick with fungus or greenish mold, and only pieces of the accounts they contain are still legible. The tone is the same, however--the blue witch and her fantastical, impossible collection of followers devastating slaver ships and outposts, leaving no survivors save the ones lucky enough to hide or smart enough to play dead. At the very end, however, one account remains mostly undamaged.]

~~~

“The Blue With? Ekera, I’ve seen her. She was the answer to nigh on three years begging the gods would save me from those Crookspur bastards. They worked m’ brother to death, y’know. Woulda like as not done the same to me if their dreaded Blue Witch hadn’t shown up an’ killed ‘em all. Magran’s eyes, but she was a sight to watch. Washed through like the damned tide, her and her friends, didn’t leave a one of ‘em standin’. Some of her friends had flashier spells; fire and lightnin’ and such, but she just had t’ look at kith and they’d fall to their knees or turn tail to run. Those ones didn’t get far, she saw to that.

“[a paragraph is illegible, before] Once she’d introduced ‘em all to the Usher, she took care of us. Freed every man, woman, and child from the chains that held us, from our cells. Locks she couldn’t find keys to got broke open.

“She may’ve been a witch to slavers and the like, but to us she was more savior than anything. And one look at her wrists’ll tell ya why on both counts. I hope every slaver in the damn Deadfire shits themselves at the thought of her, but there are many kith, like me, have lives back thanks to the ‘blue witch’ who freed us and fed us and took us to safety. May her legend live on.”

~Jesse, sailor on the Recurrent

---------------------

The original intention was to see how unbelievably I could have the poor, poor slavers Emiri went up against describe her and her friends, but it turned into just them being terrified out of their damn minds. Which... is fair. They should be terrified of her. She would be very pleased. (And she would laugh, very hard, at that last account; someone viewing her as deliverance sent by the gods when they never answered her prayers for rescue).

[redknight3996]

The Demon Lord’s Generals 6

Chapter 6 - The Ice Dragon

Seth was bored. 

He was usually bored. Life was boring.

His breath misted into the air as he sighed. Which was different from usual. It was summer, so the sun was actually out. Even then, it couldn’t overwhelm his home country’s natural cold, but it made it warmer. Though it was probably the fires causing that.

Fuck, he was bored…The screams, the blood, the panic...it all lost its appeal a long time ago. It was funny, in a way. He’d probably have more fun laying on a roof and staring up at the sky. Or maybe he wouldn’t. Maybe the dull throbbing in his head would stay there. He’d need to make a hole for his tail too, at the very least. Might as well lay on his front then. But then he couldn’t look at the sky, now could he? Logic. Brilliance.

The sun was warm on his bare chest, glinting off his scales like light on ice. His dark red feathers clung to his scalp, matted down with the heat wafting off the nearby houses. There was an enraged scream and some idiot charged him with a cleaver, so he backhanded his fellow icedrake off her feet, cracking teeth with the flat of his round shield. She spilled into the snow, landing hard as more dipshits ran and screamed, fleeing burning homes and running out into the snow, rushing to flee the cackling assholes Seth surrounded himself with. Whips snapped in the air, steel flashed in the light, houses erupted as alchemical bombs were chucked inside.

He was so fucking bored.

“C’MON OUT HARVALD!” Ah, Amato was talking. Dumbass was standing on a roof, shouting out towards the biggest house in the town. “SHOULDA PAID UP WHEN YOU COULD! YOU KNOW WHAT A PROTECTION FEE MEANS!”

Fucker was loud. Brayed at the slightest provoking. Made him a decent spokesman, but fuck if it wasn’t annoying. 

Seth scowled as he walked towards the manor, gripping at his metal club. Some of the hapless dipshits were running for the manor too, trying to get inside the safest place they could find. That was part of the plan. The cavalry burns the houses, lighting them with the blue flames that could last even in the coldest chunks of Brunza, and then all the panicking townsfolk go running for the nearest safe places, including the walled off manor in the center of town belonging to their local lord. 

Course, Harvald Gylling was a piece of shit, so the gates were blocked as desperate dipshits banged on them. Whatever, was a shit plan.

“Outta my way,” Seth grunted as he stomped to the gate, letting the sound fade out as more and more dipshits screamed in panic and ran out of his way, clutching tykes and pets and whatever else they thought was valuable enough to protect. 

His steel-toed boot smashed through the gates, sending them crashing off their hinges. There was a cheer from the assholes and they started riding after him, like they hadn’t noticed the wall of shields in front of the manor, nor the shit lord standing up on his top balcony, glaring down at him.

Harvald was an ass. There was no question of it. Dressed in black furs despite being a rabbit, had a ponytail, little fucking mustache, deep sneer on his pink lips, asshole all around. “Hnph. Coldblood. To what do I owe the pleasure?” Big front teeth too, part of being a rabbit.

“You missed pay, fuckface. Lotta missed pay.”

“THAT’S RIGHT, HARVALD!” Ugh, Amato was beside him now. How the fuck did the wily freak get that fast? He said he was pure human, but the pale-blue hair said cambion. “YOU FUCK WITH US, WE FUCK YOU BACK!”

“Are the troops grabbing the grain and meat?” Seth asked, glancing down at the shorter fucker.

“EH? Oh, uh, yeah boss, getting all that.”

“Good. We got what we wanted, asshole. Could’ve made this a lot easier for all of us.”

Harvald sneered again. “Please, as though I’d capitulate to bandits!” He capitulated plenty for the past year. Was one of the first town-lords to do so, so long as Seth’s band sold their loot in his town and kept him safe from other bands. Then he stopped his protection fee, which brought them all to this moment. “You may burn my town and take the lives of my citizens, but I will always rebuild and regain! So take what pathetic tribute you demand, but know it shall be the last you ever get from me!”

Dramatic fuck. “That’s not how this works. You cheated us. Now we take interest.”

There was more yelling. Lotta “yeah that’s right” and shit from the assholes. Axel and Britt weren’t in the group yet. Probably still directing shit.

“HA! Then come and take it, pathetic wretches! But be warned–Eep!” Harvald ducked a thrown rock, earning laughter and jeers from the assholes. He glared straight down at them, his face turning red. “LOTHUL! KILL THIS RABBLE!”

Seth raised a white eyebrow, then glanced at the big fucker striding out of the house. Real big fucker. Maybe orc, though it was hard to tell with the pitch-black armor he was wearing. 

“TREMBLE, WORMS!” Harvald continued, hiding behind his balcony’s railing, “FOR YOU FACE LOTHUL BLACK-BLADE, FORMER GENERAL OF THE DEMON LORD ORAST!”

Seth paused. “General…” General meant strong. Demon Lord’s General meant real strong. He stepped ahead of the assholes, not grinning yet. He didn’t want to get his hopes up, but for a moment, he thought the big fucker in front of him, clad in full armor, holding a huge broadsword and kite shield, wearing a furry cape, could’ve been a genuine badass.

He shouldn’t’ve.

It was less than a minute later that Seth lifted his bloody club off the wreck of metal lying at his feet. He scowled at the softly groaning pulp, then glared straight at Harvald, who flinched back with a frightened squeak. “Fuck you. Fuck you, fuck your town, fuck this piece of shit.”

He turned his glare at the guards in front of him. More rabbits, most flinching when they saw the murder in his eyes. He drew his hand down his club, gathering blood, and slicked his feathers back, already bored again. “You disappointed me. That means you gotta pay me back.”

“...W-We won’t bow to-” The lead guard squeaked as Seth chucked Lothul over her head, smashing the dumbass through the front doors. “WE’LL BOW WE’LL BOW!”

“I don’t give a shit about bowing. Over by the wall, out of the way, drop everything of value on you. Shields and spears, drop here.” Seth turned his glare up to Harvald, who whimpered, clutching his railing like it would protect him as his guards threw down their useless weapons. “Your manor is mine now.”

“W-What?! I won’t-!”

“Either run, or get thrown. Either one.”

“Gh-! Y-You damned-!” 

He got thrown.

Seth pitched the squealing noble over the town’s wall himself and passed his furry coat off to Amato while the band of assholes jeered at the guards, poking and prodding them as they shoved them outta the town too, most stripped down to their skivvies. Seth did say they should drop anything of value, and clothes had value. 

So did manors and the things inside them, so they hooked up the manor to a few aurochs and ripped the damn thing from the foundations. Took some whacking at the right points, but it came easy. Broke a bit, but eh. Materials were materials, and most of the town was charred.

All in all, a successful raid.

But Seth was still bored.

-------------------------------

There were three types of bandits in the world, by Seth’s reckoning. Not divided by skills or species or any shit like that, but by how they thought. By whatever fucked morals they had.

First type were the ones that thought they were good. Pieces of shit that were sure they, in some fucked way, were doing a good thing by robbing and murdering. They were the type to have “rules”, things they said they wouldn’t do no matter what. Standards. Lies. Most drank, most smoked, smothering that voice they called “conscience”. They explained things a lot, said it was fine because they were robbing the rich until they weren’t, then it was fine because the dipshits needed to know the world was cruel and selfish and dogs eat dogs and drakes eat drakes and then they’d flinch if you said “then eat this finger”. 

Second type were the ones who thought good was shit and so was evil. They were proud, said they were above that. Said things like “might makes right”, not to say they were good but that good was stupid. They talked big, said the world owed them. Explain they were just taking what was theirs, shout loudest and jeer as they ripped the pearls from a necklace, then choke when a knife they didn’t see went in their neck. They focused on themselves, focused hard on what they wanted, and died. Amato was this type. He lasted a while, good enough to keep around. Most weren’t. Most mouthed off. He stopped keeping notches for them.

Third type were the ones who knew they were evil. They knew they were pieces of shit. They knew there was no world that said what they did was good. They knew, and they did it anyway, because there were people like that. The type who knew they were shit from the start, and embraced that. That there was good in the world, and they weren’t that.

Stupid shits liked to say the first type were the worst. They said people who thought they were doing good did the worst shit, thinking they were helping. That was stupid. They were bad, that was true, but the third type knew they were evil. First type had points that they wouldn’t cross, hypocrites they were. Third type though, they knew they were evil. So what was off limits? If a man was evil, then he could commit any evil.

The evil fuck’s brains squelched as Seth lifted his foot. He scuffed it into the snow, brushing it away, then shrugged and headed back to camp. The newer assholes stared at him as he walked through, some wondering if they’d be next. Some might. 

He went to the table, grabbed some booze, and looked over at the bonfire. “...”

He took a deep swig, staring into the flames, then chucked the rest in, sending the blue roaring up higher, flashing green for a moment. Some flinched back, then Axel started laughing, and said some shit about how no one should brag around him. That Seth didn’t like loud shit.

“I don’t mind loud shit. I do mind shit-talking.”

He laughed, reassured him that he knew that. His grin was easy as ever. It never reached his black eyes.

Britt added something, made a few assholes laugh nervously, and things started again. The manor was resting by their camp, still there. Furniture was being divvied. Amato led that. Amato led lotta shit. Seth was the boss though. That’s what they called him.

Axel the icedrake got into the walls and lowered the gates. Britt the ghoul burned the town, led the cavalry, took charge of the camp. Amato the “human” set tasks, decided loot. But Seth led them.

What a joke.

He scratched at the scales on his neck, still staring at the fire. It danced.

It danced past the point everyone slept.

It danced when they woke.

It danced when Seth pissed in it, so he left it burning. If it wanted to burn, it could do that. They were moving though.

They always moved. Brunza was mountains, icy and frozen, a frost covering bronze land. Someone made them, he heard. Old story, back when he lived in a town. Most bandits lived in a town at some point. They left, wanting more, hating people, wanting strength, being bored out of their fucking skull. Some were born in bandit “tribes” though. They were fucked from the start. Fucked on fucked. That was life.

Life was moving. Keeping in one location meant being found. Burning a town meant people would want to find them. The manor would work better for them now. A moving base. Something they could use.

Seth took point, as always. He was the leader. He sat on a snowsteed. Some called them hrimfaxi, some called them hyoju, snowsteed was simple. Icy things, like horses, made of ice, shaped liked horses, pointed faces and pointed feet meaning they weren’t. Six eyed, along their face. Blue, like his. Easy to break.

They were going up a path in the snow, along a mountain. Looking for a place to settle while they planned the next place to rob. There were decent places. Maybe he’d have something to kill when he reached there.

The snow wasn’t falling. There was nothing to block his vision on the way up. The sun was shining. So how the fuck did he miss the woman walking towards them?

Not walking, exactly. Stumbling, more like.

Axel laughed beside him, riding close to get a better look. Asked if Seth saw the same thing.

“Yeah. Back up. I’m checking this.”

Another laugh, a “whatever you say”. A half-forgotten “boss” added at the end.

Seth let it slide. He did that with Axel. He wanted the fucker to keep testing him. He wanted to see if he’d try to kill him. That possibility made him interesting. If he stopped, if he kowtowed, then he wouldn’t be shit.

That didn’t matter though. There was something new catching his attention, so he urged his steed forward, towards the woman. The tall woman. She was nearly as tall as him on the steed. She was taller when he jumped down and walked closer. 

“‘M not sorry, ‘m not, fuck aw-*hic*-off, f-fuckin’...dammit momma, couldn’t just be born right, gotta…gotta fix, build, but can’t, cos...cos, cuz, caw...” the woman mumbled, pressing a hand over her eyes. The other clutched a large, white bottle. She had hair. It was long and white and...for the briefest moment, it seemed to flicker. Something with the light? It was stringy and limp, hanging loose. “...the fuck’re you?”

She noticed him. “Seth. You?”

“...” She dropped her hand and tilted her head, her hair falling away from her face. She looked normal. Mostly normal. She had blue eyes and a pale face flushed purple. Specks of blue traced across it. That made Seth think she wasn’t human. Goliath, maybe. They were supposed to be giant. “...Do I needa name? You don’t care. No one cares, everyone knows, ‘s how it iz…”

“I don’t know. I do care.”

“Not bout me. Yerself, sure, yeah...not me though, ken seen it.” She sniffed, then rubbed a poofy sleeve across her nose. Her blue dress was sky-blue on top and darkened when it got to her skirts. It looked fancy and tattered, laced with pearls and covered in small tears.

“Tell me your name,” he repeated.

She sneered. “Fuck that. Ugh, you want sumthin’, call me...Eko? Ko...Kol, sure, yeah, Kol’sh fine. Kol, fuck it, why do you care?”

What a stupid name. “Why’s a goliath wandering Brunzaba?”

“Goliath...hueh...dumbass.” She suddenly swigged her drink, her throat visibly moving as she gulped down her drink. When she stopped, her breath came out hot and she hiccuped, wine dripping down on her boobs. She was a mess.

She was a mess with a necklace of sapphires–five of them, shaped like teardrops–and a dress woven with pearls. She had rings on her fingers too, with more sapphires. “Why are you wandering out in the snow, lady?”

“Hnff…’m a lady now? Guess I am…I wander where I want, got it? I  walk, I talk, I...nalk, shmalk, falk, balk at the bounties and beauties blaggard…” She closed her eyes, one after the other, and opened them again. “Wouchu get outta way? ‘M walken…”

“Yo boss! What’s the hold up? This bitch causing trouble?” 

“Fuck off Amato,” Seth muttered, staring at the woman. Kol. Stupid name, stupid drunk. Rich drunk though, judging by the jewels. “You’re walking down this path. We’re going up this path. Think that means we’re at an impasse.”

She blinked stupidly at him. “...Impasse? Why? Move.”

“No.”

She frowned. “I said to move.”

Kol. A giant of a woman, wandering a snow-covered mountain in noble clothes. There was a power there. An implication. “No.”

Kol growled, pushing up her hair and scratching at her head with her free hand. “The fuck do you want?”

Coherent. Was she sobering? He almost laughed. “Your necklace, your dress, everything. You can keep your booze. Call it consolation for the toll.”

“...Are you fucking stupid?”

He nearly smiled. She was getting angry. He wanted that. There was something here, something big, and he wanted to know what. This was interesting. “I’m not a noble bitch wandering the country in silk and lace. You have valuables. I have sixty assholes behind me. Y-”

She snorted. She actually snorted at him, and giggled, pressing her hand to her mouth. “Pffffff, s-seriously?? That’s-You seriously said-Fuck, momma, what the fuck type of moron did I just meet??”

His eye twitched. “Bandits. I have sixty bandits. Maybe more–”

“I mean you weren’t wrong, I imagine most of ‘em have assholes, so you weren’t wrong!” She giggled again–

There was a crack as she backhanded him. 

Seth blinked stars from his eyes, his feet moving to balance–Then he was spitting vomit into the snow and clutching his stomach, not even feeling the fist that left a fucking dent–His head snapped back, blood spraying from his mouth as she kneed him straight in the face.

“BOSS!” There were screams behind him, and he snarled back at them, throwing his hand back to keep the assho-the fuckers from interfering in his fight.

Kol licked her lips. She had a blue tongue. Seth roared, ripping his club from the straps on his steed and–She caught it. With her pinky.

Kol was smiling as his club flash-froze in his hand. “Is this everything you wanted?”

Seth stared at her, then grinned right back as he felt genuine excitement for the first time in ages–

His club exploded, sending shards of ice and iron–

He choked as her fist slammed straight into his slit nostrils, breaking something–

He screamed when his arm was snapped straight in half at the elbow, his forearm hanging limp–

Second snap, second arm limp–

She had two arms but a thousand fists were hitting him at once, sending his body jerking with each brutal impact–

Seth was on the ground, and he couldn’t make a noise as she stomped on his head. He could see everyone in his camp staring in shock. They were making sounds he couldn’t hear. Blood was leaking from his nose, his mouth, his eyes, his ears, his body was broken and a bare foot was holding him down. Then a chunk of frozen iron landed by his head, finally dropping.

“Now what will they do? You, their leader, have lost. What will they do?” Kol’s voice came, pounding in his head, past all the hollow ringing. He couldn’t hear any of them, but she came through clearly.

And he saw Amato stepping forward, shouting with his sword drawn. He saw Axel cracking his whip. He saw Britt with an axe in hand. He saw his...his...all of them, with weapons drawn, shouting, making demands. Not leaving.

“Oh.” Was that surprise? “Honor among dregs then. You gave these people hope, didn’t you?” What? “The worst of the world, utter garbage, and you gave them a place. One where death could come at any time, where they killed and stole to live, a world of violence, but one they could stand. One they felt some belonging in. Is that it?”

Bullshit. It wasn’t. They were all...bandits didn’t give a shit about each other, if it came down to it, they’d abandon-

“But they’re not abandoning you, are they?” 

He looked up at her. She wasn’t...she wasn’t a goliath. Her foot was scaled, but not like a drake, more like a fish. She didn’t have feathers. Her white hair wasn’t hair. It was tentacles. Thick and ice-blue, curling down her head and across her shoulders. She looked down at him, and the whites of her eyes were black and the rest was pure ice, darkest at the center. 

“Getting poetic? Or maybe you recognize something. Who knows?” She had horns. “I do have horns, yes. Have you figured it out yet? Do you know what I am?”

He did.

“Think it.”

Leviathan.

“Good. Now watch me murder your only friends.”

His eye went wide as she raised a hand and pointed at his troops–

“Your friends. The ones you led to their deaths. Remember that.”

There was noise again, and he looked to see the idiots, the damned idiots, all charging, arrows flying and steeds going as fast as they could in such a short distance that there was no way she could possibly–

…

…

Seth felt tears gather. He thought they’d dried ages ago. 

The path was barren. That was wrong. The path was full. Full of debris. Frozen flesh raining on broken weapons and legs planted in place, standing on their own. 

The mansion still stood. It was the only thing standing. That was wrong. Legs stood.

The mansion was intact though. What kind of shit was that?

“Life.”

He snarled, glaring up at her as much as he could. What made it worse was how little she cared.

“Heh. You’re right about that. This is typical for me. You get strong enough, and the people beneath you are just so much garbage.”

FUCK YOU!

“Oh? My, you hit an odd point there.” She–the bitch–stroked her chin. “You have potential. Or you would, if you weren’t bleeding out in the snow. Isn’t that just life though? You have something in you, but you won’t ever reach it. You’ll die out here, in the cold you can’t even feel, oh frosted lizard. But I could make you feel it.”

He went stiff. His face was burning where her foot touched. It was burning–

He screamed in pain. It burned wrong, it wasn’t anything like fire, it felt unnatural, felt alien, felt–

“It feels cold. That is cold. Die feeling it.”

She was gone. He was alone. Alone in the snow, his face burning. Unable to move. Dying.

What kind of shit was that?

He couldn’t move his fingers to dig into the snow. His legs wouldn’t listen to him. His tail laid limp. He could feel his chest though. He could feel things below his neck. His neck wasn’t broken. His body was, but he could feel it.

He swallowed blood. He swallowed blood and bile and started to growl. His eye moved, furiously glaring at the remains of those people who called him their leader. The people he had failed. He wouldn’t claim they were friends. He couldn’t speak to their feelings towards him, and he knew he didn’t care for them. 

And yet, they had tried to save him. And yet, they died for him. And yet, he was furious.

His bones snapped as his hand slammed into the ground. His breath was coming heavy and cold, his eyes burning. Cracks echoed through the night as he stood. Blood leaked, dried, and dyed his scales red and brown. For the first time in his life, he felt the cold.

And Seth walked.

Not down, but up. He was going up. It was only right. 

He chose this way. He would see it through.

Daylight rose when he saw the walls. It was cloudless again. What absolute shit.

He dropped.

And woke in a bed, blanketed in furs.

Trying to move his body only caused pain to shoot through it again, but he refused to let himself stop. Seth tossed the furs off and grabbed the edge of the bed, then found himself crashing to the floor as he tried to stand up. 

“Wha-? Oh gods, what’re you doing?” There was a voice. It sounded disappointed, and then he was going back up as a pair of shockingly strong hands lifted and laid him back in the bed. “Do you even realize how broken your bones are? Course you don’t, else you wouldn’t be trying to get up.” 

Seth snarled and glared at-...That was a bugbear. Huh.

The furry, bearded goblin raised a bushy eyebrow at him. “You gonna be difficult about this?”

“...” He had no idea what to say here. "...who are you?" 

"I'm the bugbear who saved your life. Now, are you going to try and crawl outta here and make all my work go to waste?" Growling, Seth looked away, letting the bugbear do as he pleased. 

"Good, now stay still, I need to change your bandages." Walking over, the bugbear began to remove Seth’s bandages, revealing the still very fresh scarring that bitch had left on his scales. "Gotta say, you're lucky we found you. A run of the mill healer wouldn't have been able to help you." 

He didn’t turn to look. Still. "...How did you do it then?"

"Heh, ol secret recipe. Fraid I can't share it though, you wouldn't exactly be able to make it if I did."

"...What does that mean?" A laugh was the only response he received. In a way, he was too pissed off at everything else to get angry at that. 

“Gods be good though, you really took a bad beating, youngster. What in the world did you run into out there?”

“A leviathan.”

The bugbear’s hands paused. “...Yeah, that would do it then. I’d ask how you ran into a leviathan on a mountain, but that’s the sort of thing no one ever has a good answer to.”

Seth grunted and the hands went back to work at...whatever he was doing. He wasn’t going to look.

“Don’t mistake me, I am curious, but a child of Fathom wandering our snowy mountains isn’t the oddest thing I’ve ever heard. Swear I have a book of legends on the race around here somewhere though, now that I’m thinking about it...bah, never mind that, we should be focusing on you and how much rest you’re going to need.”

“I don’t need rest.”

“Try to remember you’re talking to the person who fixed you up. I know how bad you look, and you know how bad you feel. This sort of damage is the type of thing you walk off.” He suddenly chuckled. “Honestly, it isn’t the sort of thing you should’ve lived through. It’s an honest miracle you managed to keep your heart beating, much less walking however far you came from.”

“Nh.”

“Was that you replying, or you grunting?”

“...” Why did it feel like when he was little again, getting chided by his grandpa for breaking windows? “Grunting.”

“Well I won’t stop you if you want to grunt, but you won’t make for a good conversation partner if that’s your only response. Unless you’d rather be left alone?”

“...no.” He hated how small his voice sounded there, so much so he nearly took it back-

“My name’s Arnulf. Most people call me Arnie, because apparently two syllable names are too long for them. Or maybe they just don’t like the ‘f’ sound, considering it’s still two syllables.”

“...Seth.”

“Hm, good name that, strong name. Was it given?”

“...Yeah. Was yours?”

“Yup! Given by my pa when I was born, and his name was Arnold, and his father’s name was Arnaught. Arnbjorn is our family name, and it seemed some fool along the line thought it should be tradition for us all to be Arns.”

“Huh.” Seth shifted as he felt a cool cloth press to his chest. He looked, watching as the healer continued his work. Some sort of...there was a word for it. He didn’t know the word. Cloth, with plant stuff. “...My grandfather said my mother named me. My father wasn’t there for it.”

“Mm. There a story you want to tell?”

Seth shrugged. “Not much of one. Grandfather never said anything about him. Mother didn’t either, while she was around. She died. Not even anything big, just a piece of cliff falling at the wrong time. Maybe she wanted to. I don’t know.”

“I’m sorry. That’s a rough thing to go through. I buried both my parents some time ago.”

Seth blinked. “...Ah...alive?”

Arnulf snorted. “Nah, they were dead. We did check, don’t worry about that. Ma died first, just from age, and Pa went about a week after. I think losing her just wasn’t something he could handle.”

“That can happen?”

“Death from sadness? Yeah, it happens plenty of times. You live your life with someone long enough, they leave an impression, don’t they?”

“...Yeah.” Seth laid back, staring at the ceiling. It was wood. Lanterns hung. Smaller than he was used to. “...how long does it take? Impressions?”

“Not sure. I imagine it depends on the person. You’re making a real impression so far, so hey.”

“...What would you feel if I died?”

“Hmm...I think frustrated, first. I did put a lot into keeping you alive, so that would hurt. Sad, sure. Young people shouldn’t die. That’s something for old folks.”

“...Who do you think I am?”

“Hm?”

Seth didn’t say a thing. He wanted to hear his answer. It was strange. He wasn’t feeling bored.

Arnbjorn waited too, then continued speaking when he said nothing. “Judging from how you arrived here, what you looked like when you did, the clothes you were, all of that, I’ll guess a bandit. That is what most people have been saying here.”

“Most people?”

“You did drop right outside the walls. People found you and brought you in, though there are plenty wondering if that’s such a good idea.”

“That’s smart of them. I’m a shit person.”

“Really? And here I thought you were just bad at conversation. Then again, you turned out to be real talkative, so maybe I’m just a bad judge here.”

“You are.”

Arnbjorn snorted, this time amused. “Yeah, I’ve heard that. Call me soft, but I don’t like seeing people die, even if they come in caked in dried blood.”

“Most of it is mine.”

“See, you say that like it’s reassuring, but that’s not a good thing for a doctor to hear, though you do make a fantastic case study for the apparent life-giving properties of sheer determination to live.”

“It was more anger. Lots of anger.” The throbbing was back. Seth grit his teeth and sat up–Seth nearly broke his teeth gritting them as his whole chest spasmed with pain–

“Ah-Hold on, stay still, you’re still not doing well here!” Arn’s firm, furry hands held Seth down, earning a scowl that was returned with one baring the bugbear’s own sharp teeth. “Yeah yeah, you’re real scary, but you’re also a damn fool if you think I’m letting you up in your condition! Now lay down or I’m strapping you down!”

"...That wouldn't hold me down."

"You'd be surprised at how hard that'd be if I sedated you as well." 

"...Nh." Grunting once again, Seth laid down. 

"Good, now then, I hope you're ready for Bugbear delicacies, cause you're gonna have to get used to it while you're here."

-------------------------------------------------------

It was warm. And tasted like shit, But…it was filling. 

Such was bugbear food. Apparently goblinoids in general don't care much for taste, at least according to Arn. Not like Seth had much of a place to argue. Most of the stuff he ate after becoming a bandit was just burnt over an open fire.

Either way, Seth didn't turn down any of the food he was given. And, as much as he hated to admit it, he owed Arn. Something he was hoping to pay back as soon as possible.

"Hey, I never asked you, you got any family?" 

As soon as he was able to leave Arn's house, anyways.

“I did say some stuff.”

“Once, sure. You lived with your gramps and your ma, yeah? Anybody else, still around?”

He thought about it as he ate the thick soup. “...I got an uncle. And an aunt. Two other aunts. They lived around, same village. Cousins too.”

Arn nodded, taking a moment to drink his tea. Tea and fabas, food of the mountains. Plateaus. Whatever. “Do you want me to try getting in touch with them? We do have a decent post here.”

Seth unconsciously winced. Last time a group he was with tried robbing a courier, it didn’t go well. Ghouls came back from a lot, didn’t mind the cold, and were relentless when it came to vengeance. Not even fun to go against. Just vicious. “No. That wouldn’t go well.”

“Fair enough, thought I’d ask. Sorry if I drudged up anything bad.”

“You didn’t. You apologize easy.”

“Do I? Probably. I don’t like causing harm, so I try to avoid it. Makes me a bad hunter, but a decent healer, and everyone needs one of those at some time or another.”

“Right.” ...Now that he thought about it, his old group never had a healer. Probably wouldn't have changed shit if they did, but it probably would have helped at other times. 

"You know, if you want, you can go hunting with some of the others, to help you get back on-" Before his suggestion could finish coming out, a loud crash from outside cut him off. "Ah, shit, someone probably dropped something, give me a moment, I'll be right back." 

“Sure.” Seth watched Arn leave, then settled back in bed. It was weird. For years, he felt that pulsing boredom in his skull, that constant sense of restlessness, no matter what he did. Now, he’s stuck in a bed, doing nothing, and he felt...He didn’t know what he felt. Not empty. Not nothing. Something. Rested.

He’d slept for days. He rested for days. Moved when he needed, but not doing much. Just two days ago, he stood, leaning on crutches as he went around Arn’s clinic. He saw people. Most were smaller than him. Hairy.

Seth let out a slow breath, then stood. His ribs didn’t hurt when he breathed anymore. Arn said he healed well, some sort of...positive reaction, or whatever. Something about his body. He didn’t get it.

There was a mirror nearby, one Arn had set up, and Seth looked at himself in it. His feathers had gone white. He’d rubbed blood through his feathers before, a way of showing how brutal he was. Something other bandits did. Now they were white. Clean. His bruises were fading. His bones were mended. The bags under his eyes were gone.

He looked better than he had in years. All it took was everyone he knew dying. He could almost laugh.

There was another crash. A loud one. That wasn’t someone dropping something.

Seth grabbed his crutch and went out, looking around the town while icedrakes with blood-red feathers whooped and hollered as they rode in on snowsteeds, a familiar sight he never expected to be on the other side of. They weren’t throwing fire, yet, but they were swinging whips and twirling spears and as one approached Seth stepped out and smashed her straight off her steed with his crutch. She landed with a pained scream, and he slammed the crutch on her head to knock her out. He took the whip, tested it, and swung at the next asshole in formation, catching him around the throat and pulling him up and down to the ground, hard.

“Woah, shit! Ha, looks like we got-” Talky one got the crutch thrown straight into his face, and Seth cracked his neck as he stepped forward, picking a dagger from the closest bandit and glaring at the rest of the riders.

He didn’t see Arn. That made him scowl. He could feel the cold on his scales, and his breath came in small vapors. He was still changed. Good. It made him feel alive.

Cavalry had advantages. Taller, faster, bigger range. Seth killed a lot of cavalrymen. This wouldn’t be anything new.

Arrows came quick and he chucked his knife quicker, slamming it into and through one fuck’s chest as he sprinted to the next, jumping and gripping their face as he wrenched them off the steed and into the snow. He coughed as he landed on his chest. Still injured, would’ve landed on his feet before. Whatever. 

He punched twice, then pushed up as one prick came swinging with a saber. He punched him in the face, hooked his ankle under the bandit’s, and slammed him into the snow, turning and whacking him with his tail as he looked around, trying to find more.  

An arrow to the back nearly sent him reeling over, before he braced himself, gritting his teeth as he refrained from yelling out. Seth had grown far too accustomed to fighting in a group, so fighting by himself would be yet another uphill challenge. 

Grabbing the saber from the fallen bandit, Seth blocked the next arrow coming towards him, before outright chucking the saber at the shooter, catching them in the shoulder and knocking them off their steed. 

But before he could draw his hand back, a whip wrapped around it, giving Seth only a moment to react before he was dragged off his feet, being pulled along by one of the bandits. Nearly feeling his arm pop off entirely, Seth gripped onto the whip with his free hand, and began to pull himself towards the rider. But it seemed this one was smarter than the rest, and they let go of the whip when they made a sharp turn, leaving Seth to tumble through snow before crashing into a building. 

Dazed and looking around, he locked eyes with a pair of cowering bugbears, much smaller than the rest. Shit. Looking out through the hole he made with his body, Seth could see the remaining assholes getting ready to fire upon the house. Rolling away from the hole, Seth knocked over a table, making a barricade for him in the bugbears in time for the arrows to come raining in. The tykes screamed and some arrowheads stabbed through the table. They didn’t get all the way through though.

Right, tykes were still there. He glanced at them. He wasn’t good with tykes. He smiled and gave them a thumb’s up. Reassuring. One whimpered, and the other looked confused. That wasn’t scared, so half a win.

“Don’t worry, I’ll kill them,” he reassured. Now both of them were staring like he was crazy. Not scared, so full win.

Then he heard whooping and smelled fuel. So he bolted over the table, tore a handful of arrows–mostly getting the shafts instead of the heads–from it, and pitched them at the closest fucker he could see. The laughing drake’s eyes went wide when one of them stabbed through the twin bottles in his hand, the rest either falling short or stabbing the other archers, and the explosion blew out the windows around, blue fire washing over the patch of street and roaring up into the sky.

He waited a moment, then looked back at the tykes. “Told you.”

Huh. They looked awed. That was different.

“...Shout for me if anything else happens. Or if you see Arn. Arnie. Stay safe.” There, reassured.

He let out a breath, then ran–mostly hobbled–past the burning bodies. There was still noise, and he could hear it getting closer. So he went to the main street. He didn’t know where that was, but the biggest street was probably it, and he knew what to do. 

Once he was there, he took in a deep breath, threw his head back, and ROARED. 

He didn’t shatter windows, but he heard the panicked shrieks of steeds all around him as they reacted to the sound of a known predator, bucking and bolting as their riders screamed in panic, none managing to stay on as the snowsteeds fled, taking whatever direction would get them out of there the fastest. 

“You.”

Seth lowered his head, his breath coming cold and heavy. The cold was biting into his scales now. He could feel it on every inch of him. That roar might’ve fucked his throat. He rubbed at it, glaring at the black-armored jackass brushing snow off his fancy cloak.

“What a twist of fate, finding you here,” the big fucker continued, his voice booming in his helm, “It does save me the trouble of tracking you down, Coldblood.”

Shit, someone with a grudge. That was annoying. It happened before, but most of the time it was some asshole tracking him down, not a coincidence. And most of the time, he had back-up.

“Really, I didn’t expect to find you at all. I heard your entire band was wiped out. It hurt to hear that. I wanted to kill every last one of you myself.”

Ah, really deep grudge then. Shit. This was probably someone important then...His name wasn’t coming to mind though…

"Though, I suppose the honor of finishing off the job will be enough.” The guy pulled a huge, black greatsword off his back, holding it easy. So he was strong, at least. “I have to say, you really put things in perspective for me. I spent so long thinking I was at the top of the world, then I was knocked down by some lightlander brats. I come here, thinking I can eek by, working for some rabbits, and then you come by and do the exact same thing. Some no-name snowdrake-” Icedrake. “-from the ass end of our own frozen shithole. You’re no chosen hero, no prodigy, just a big fish in a small pond. Big enough to beat me down though.

“So here I am, a full month later-” It’d been a month? Huh. “-getting myself back in gear. I took over my own band of snowdrakes-” Icedrakes. “-and trained every single day until I stood back up, at the point I wanted to start raiding little hamlets like this. But don’t mistake me. I’m not stopping here. I’m going further, not to raid, but to conquer. You’re looking at the next Demon Lord, brat, and I’ve decided, here and now, that I’ll be taking your town as my first territory.

“Ain’t that fitting? Your little hideaway, the place you settled down at, now the seat of my new empire! I think that’s a good payback, don’t you?” This guy talked a lot. “But don’t worry. I promise to send every last one of these little gobs after you when I send you to hell. Your precious village, the home you made, slaughtered, all because of you! Your one shot at redemption that you’ve so desperately clung to, torn down at the hands of the man you wronged! This is my vengeance-!”

“I don’t know most of these people.”

The guy paused in his gestures and looked back at him. “What?”

“I only know one guy. A bugbear. About…” Seth paused for a moment, then lowered his hand to his abs. “This high? I think. I haven’t compared yet.”

“...Don’t think your excuses will stop-”

“Also, redemption. Why are you bringing that up?”

“What? Because...Why else are you here, living among these...dirt people?”

“They’re furry people, not dirt people, so go fuck yourself on that account, and I don’t give a shit about redemption. I don’t feel bad for anything I’ve ever done.” He paused again. “No, that one’s not true. I do feel bad for getting my...my friends killed.” He scratched at his feathers, sighing and walking closer to the armored guy. “That’s shit, and I’m still mad about it, but I genuinely don’t feel bad for anything else. I don’t want redemption. I’m just paying back a debt.”

The guy stared at him, then snarled. “So be it then! If this all means nothing to you, then you won’t care if I burn it to the ground!”

“No, I will. Arnie lives here, and he’s decent. So that will piss me off.”

“So-Then I’m right! You do care!”

“Yeah. Because someone I like lives here. Not because I’m redeemed.”

Armored guy growled again, trying to loom over Seth. He did have the height for it. “THEN I’LL JUST KILL HIM! WOULD THAT FINALLY UPSET YOU, YOU STUPID PIECE OF-”

Seth stepped in close and SLAMMED his fist as hard as he could straight into the center of the guy’s chest. There was a boom as the snow around them was blown back, then a rattling noise.

Something spilled out of the guy’s helmet. Maybe vomit. His legs were shaking, and Seth could feel blood leaking out around his fist, buried deep in the crater in the center of the guy’s breastplate. There was another creaking noise, what might’ve been a whimper, and Seth stepped out of the big guy’s way, letting him drop flat into the snow.

Then he looked over at the ring of bandits, all staring at him in shock. “...So. Who next?”

Something smelled like piss. Then one of the bandits stepped forward, holding his saber in a shaking hand and pointing it at him. “Y-You...Th-There’s still...p-plenty of us, so you-” Then an arrow went straight through his throat.

Seth glanced to the side, then blinked as a full on horde of armored bugbears charged the bandits, who all shrieked in panic and started fleeing as arrows and javelins rained down on where they were at. Most of them didn’t make it before getting swarmed by furry goblins, brought to the ground, and bound up as they were beaten unconscious with clubs and rocks.

“...Huh.” Seth scratched at his head as cheers went up, the townspeople celebrating their victories and stomping on their victims. For the celebration. Right. “Huh…”

“Well you certainly did good there,” Arnie complimented as he walked on up, cleaning his bloody hands off with a rag.

“...Thanks? You, uh...I didn’t think your people could…”

“What, stab someone? We’re plenty good at that. Takes some time to get a militia together when there’s a surprise attack though. Most people want to get their families to safety before mounting counterattacks.”

“...Yeah, I guess that makes sense.”

“They also got really distracted by your whole showdown with tall, dark, and scary here.” He nudged the guy with a foot, receiving a groan in reply. “It was pretty interesting to see, real intense, though you did ruin the moment a lot there.”

“I did?”

“Yup. Granted, I’m surprised this lug could take any of that seriously with you being totally naked the whole time. Were there no pants in the room?”

Seth looked down. “...I have bandages on.”

“You do, true. Well, guess that’s icedrakes for you. Snow doesn’t bother you at all, huh?”

“No, it does. Now, at least.” Seth shrugged, wincing at the pain shooting through his arm. “I think it happened because of that leviathan.”

“...Huh. That’s...huh.” Arnie hummed there, then shrugged too. “Well, we better get you back to the clinic. I hear you got into a few scraps out there.”

Seth shrugged again, ignoring the sting. “It’s fine. Don’t they need you around here?”

“Nah, my apprentices can handle things. Injuries were at a minimum, mainly thanks to you, I figure.”

“...You have apprentices?”

“I do. They hide when you’re up, since you’re huge and terrifying.”

“Ah.” Seth nodded. That sounded reasonable.

“...Is your arm broken?”

“Hm?”

“It’s turning purple.”

Seth looked at his arm. Then he looked at the other one, the one he punched the guy with. “...Yup. It is doing that.” Also bleeding.

“...Let’s get you back to the clinic.”

------------------------------------------

Annoyingly, the broken arm healed a lot slower, so Seth wound up sticking around longer. Then it did heal, and he sort of just...kept sticking around.

At first, he told himself that he only stayed because he needed to pay back Arnie again for healing his arm. But even after Arnie said he’d done more than enough, he stuck around. He didn't really have anywhere to go and didn't have any place he wanted to go, so this town soon became a familiar sight to him.

"Heya Seth, can you hand me the gerinick?" called out Jogal, one of Arnie's many apprentices, the young Bugbear currently working on some medical concoctions. 

Letting out a small, irritated huff at being treated like some sorta assistant, Seth reached over to grab the recently crushed flower and handed it over. Then he watched Jogal work. It was interesting. So many things were interesting now. He used to find village life so damned dull he would do anything to get away from it. Now though, it felt cozy.

He still felt cold. Not like he felt cold, but he felt cold, could still feel it. Maybe that was part of it. It felt like the world was more vibrant, somehow. Smells were sharper, sounds were clearer, crappy foods tasted even more shit and actually decent grub was amazing. The world felt new.

Arnie helped with that too. Not just by being his friend, but by giving him this stuff to take whenever his head started aching. It helped keep things clear.

Even when dealing with the occasional bandit groups, he didn't get irritated at them being weak, instead enjoying being the unofficial leader of the militia. Semi-official, since they did give him a sash. It was nice. White, like his feathers.

All in all, he liked living there. He had a sense of purpose, he didn’t feel bored, and no one was trying to force him any which way. Sure, he had people asking for help, but that just meant things he could do. Like watching Jogal make medicine, least until he heard a bell from outside and went to check. They’d set up a system to alert people if something was going on, using bells to call the militia or even just Seth if it was something easy to take care of.

This was not one of those things. Seth could tell that the instant he laid eyes on that human woman, bundled up in dark furs and grinning at him as he approached.

Seth studied her back, then tilted his head at Arnie and Vilde, the mayor-type person. “Arn. Ma’am.” He looked back at the woman. “Hey.”

“Hey,” she greeted back, raising a hand and grinning. Probably a good sign. The other people around were less of one. See, Seth could tell they were strangers, on account of the simple fact that all of them stood way above the locals in terms of height.

However, he couldn't tell exactly what they were, due to the thick, dark furs they were wearing too, aside from that they were strong. Far too strong for the bugbears. 

"Did you need something?" 

"Of course, I came here to talk to you after all," she said as she continued to grin, "My name is Claire Valondrac, and am I correct in presuming you are the drake who defeated the former Demon General Lothul not once, but twice?" 

"Who?" 

It seemed that wasn't the answer she was expecting. "...Lothul Black-Blade, former general of the Demon Lord Orast."

"I have no idea who the fuck that is."

"...Is that that guy in that big black armor that showed up while you were still in bandages?" Arn asked, stepping into the conversation. 

"Lothul was known to wear full black armor, yes," Valondrac answered, so Seth frowned at her. 

"Oh, that guy? You trying to get revenge for him?" 

"Not at all, in fact, I came to meet you to see if you're interested in working for me." 

"Well I'm not. Already did the bandit life."

"..." It really seemed like she didn't expect the conversation would go this way. And it seemed the bigger of her two companions was holding back some laughter. Hm. Big, black clothes...nah, different body shape, wasn’t the armored guy. "Well, I'm not asking you to become a bandit. Instead, I came here to ask you to become one of my generals." 

Seth paused, looking back at Valondrac. "Like that Lothul?"

"He wasn't one of mine, but yes."

"And he was a bandit. So you're asking me to become a bandit." It seemed like that pushed the bigger one over. She started laughing, holding her stomach as she doubled over. 

"...Again, no. Lothul became a bandit after Orast was defeated. I'm here to see to see if you wish to become one of my generals as I establish my rule as demon lord."

"...Lothul wanted to become demon lord. So that's like. A big bandit boss, right?" 

"If you would allow me, my lady," the other companion prompted. Claire signalled him to continue, which made sense since she seemed a bit exasperated. Stepping forward, he took off his hood, and flashed a smile. A very sharp smile. A vampire then. "While it is true that Lothul may have intended to become a more violent demon lord, my lady has no intentions of doing so. What she intends to do is bring the Dark Lands under her rule, and while she would prefer more peaceful means, she knows force may be necessary, and as such wishes to recruit you as one of her generals." 

"And why should I join?" 

"It is your own choice if you wish to join, all I ask is that you listen to my lady before you make a choice."

“I’m listening now. I already did the bandit thing. I don’t want to do it again.”

“Oh believe me, we are well aware of that, Mister Co-”

“Not Coldblood. I’m just Seth.”

The vampire blinked, then smiled. It looked more genuine. “I certainly can respect that. I can also respect your decision to forgo the life of banditry. There are those who don’t make such a choice though, as I am sure you are aware.”

“...Right. And?”

Valondrac stepped forward again, grinning again. “That’s where I come in. How would you like it if all those bandits stopped their raiding completely?”

Seth paused. He glanced at Arnie, who shrugged, then back at Valondrac. “I don’t know. Fighting bandits feels alright, and not having them to fight would suck.”

The big woman snorted and Valondrac huffed. “Right right, of course it would, but I’m trying to offer you...Alright, look, I want to conquer the Dark Lands, and that includes Brunzaba, and I’m not going to be some idiot who claims to rule but doesn’t actually do anything, so that’s going to include protecting every single one of my citizens and keeping them from getting raided and killed by brigands. Is that clear enough?”

“I guess.”

“...” She looked like she was waiting for something. A minute passed, and she sighed. “Right. Look, Brunzaba doesn’t have a full nation, right? It’s mostly city-states and independent villages, many of which are run by local lords, which can be anything from frostdrakes like you to full vampires, right?”

“Sure. It’s icedrakes.”

“Oh, alright, icedrakes then. And while yes, there is a sort of central authority in the form of the Church of Time, it largely ignores the plight of the general populace, right?”

“...” He glanced at Arnie, who chuckled and nodded. “Yes.”

“...Do you know anything about your home country?”

“It’s snowy. We have lots of mountains. Crops are hard to grow so you should build around a hot spring and set up greenhouses for that stuff. There are some ice-fruit types, but mammals can’t eat them.” He paused in thought. “I guess only icedrakes and ice-type animals can eat them? Something about the cold and hardness.”

“...I...Alright, the...the primary faith of this region is Bleakism, the worship of the Goddess of Time, Bleak. It’s a melancholic faith focused around the idea of inevitability and submitting to it, with an emphasis on conformity and rigid schedule-keeping.”

“That sounds dull.” Vilde lightly kicked him the shin, frowning for some reason. 

“...Your pastor is right there.”

Seth stared at Valondrac, then glanced at Vilde, who had her arms crossed over her chest as she glared at him. “...Oh. Right, you talk about rules and stuff…” He looked back at Valondrac. “That’s different though. She’s sets stuff so people know what needs doing and when to get things done.”

“That’s the point of the faith, Seth,” Vilde said, then sighed, “I swear, he’s not...no, yeah, he usually is this thick.”

“I can tell.” Valondrac sighed too. “Right, my point is, despite the church’s presence, they don’t do much to curb this region’s absolutely massive bandit problem, which comes about because this is an intensely inhospitable region, which drives people to desperate means for food and supplies, and also because, as far as I can tell, you literally don’t have a legal system.”

“No no, the big cities do,” Vilde continued, “It’s just when you’ve got a town about our size, building a jailhouse, well...it’s kinda a waste. You gotta set up locks, gotta make sure it’s heated enough that the criminals don’t freeze, you need to provide food and clothes and bedding for them...honestly, all around, it’s a waste of resources that you oughta be putting towards something else.”

“Which means we usually just chuck criminals off the nearest cliff and hope they don’t come back,” Arnie added, before patting Seth’s leg, “Course, sometimes we can’t help but be compassionate. You gotta have at least some heart out here, else what’s the point of keeping on with life? Surviving just to survive isn’t any kind of life.”

“Yeah,” Seth agreed, “It’s a shit kind of life.”

And Valondrac smiled at that. “I can tell. It seems like this is a better place for you, though I still want to extend my offer. You’re a strong person, Seth, and I want someone like you on my side. I want to help Brunzaba as a whole, and that means bringing in food, furs, resources that people need. That means finding ways to curb the bandit populations, like providing opportunities for better lives. You represent an idea here, even if you might not know it, the idea that it’s entirely possible to rehabilitate someone who went down a bloody path in life. 

“I want to do something similar with other bandits. I want to offer amnesty to those willing to take it. I want to add them into my forces as trained raiders and warriors who can be turned to defending all our people instead of hurting them.”

“You want a lot,” he replied.

She smirked. “Oh you have no idea. I’m not going to be an idiot about this though. If they abuse my generosity, I’ll do worse than throw them from a cliff. But if they’re willing to take my second chance, it will be a complete one. One where they can be a part of something, instead of trying to tear it apart.”

“And you want me to help make it happen.” Now he was getting it.

“Yes, exactly. I know your history, for the most part, and how successful you’ve been on both sides of bandit raids. I want someone like you working for me. I can give you whatever you might need to sweeten the deal. Just make the request, and I’ll do my best to fulfill it.”

“Sure. Fight me.”

"Oh?" 

"Now yer speakin’ my language!" Pulling her hood back, the largest of the group revealed herself to be an orc. A green one. Seth hadn’t seen many orcs, but the ones he did were gray, so she was probably from further west. "Here I thought we'd only be talkin’, but if it's a fight ya want, then I'm all up for it!"

"No, not you. If she's in charge, I want to fight her." And with that, the orc seemed to frown at being denied a fight. "I refuse to work under anyone weak. Show me your strength." 

"Is that so…very well. But perhaps we should move elsewhere. I would hate to cause any damage to this village if we get out of hand." 

"Sure thing. Lead the way." 

A short walk later, they were all in a clear snowfield outside the village. Most of them. Vilde had stuff to do, so it was just Arn on Seth’s side, and the vampire and the orc on Valondrac’s.

Valondrac was stretching, her coat in her vampire’s hands, which meant she was left wearing a black sweater, thick enough that the cold didn’t seem to bother her. Then she finished her stretches and let out a deep breath that pushed orange fire out of her mouth, and Seth paused in his own prep to stare.

“Huh. You a fire human?”

“Pfft-Nope nope, normal human here. Well, probably a bit cambionic...also, human types aren’t really lined along elements like drakes tend to.”

“Why?”

“I suppose it's because we don’t change our physiology as drastically? Classifications are odd, and people tend to argue about what, precisely, humans should be classified by. Skin color is a decent indicator, though not a flawless one, particularly with how the spread of human beings means that they’re present all across the world. Though I suppose that’s the same for drakes, isn’t it?”

“...I guess.”

Valondrac chuckled. “You’re a very straightforward man, huh?”

“Sure. You’re a weird woman.” He straightened, staring her in her yellow eyes. “Any other weird knowledge to share?”

“Hn...did you know that the mountains of Brunzaba are supposedly the great bronze palaces of the icedrakes’ ancestors? Supposedly, they were swallowed in frost when they made a few too many deals with the Perfidians.”

“Right, the ice demons. I know that one. Interesting.”

“I’m glad you think so.” Valondrac grinned, then set into a stance, which meant she had martial arts. Also interesting. 

And as they stared at one another, he couldn't help but feel eager for the fight. 

And the feeling lasted as the orc called the start and he surged forward. She smirked, and a wall of fire cut him off, making him flinched on instinct and she burst forward, slamming a palm hard enough into his chest to send him flying. 

He rolled with the landing, patted down the flames on his shirt, and went right back in. He was a fighter, not a mage, so no funny tricks for him here. He needed to get in close and down her to win, and she didn’t give him any chance to.

Simple fact was, she was trained and he wasn’t. His way of fighting was wild, brutal, intent on bringing down someone the instant he got to them. Each fist was not just dodged or blocked but slapped aside, the back of her hand or her palm smacking his arm off to the side before her other hand smashed into his chest or face. An attempt at a kick saw his other leg and all sense of balance go out from under him as she shot a sharp kick to his ankle. He landed on his back plenty. But he got up.

Stubborn. Maybe stupid. But he didn’t want to lose again.

Heat washed over him with each blow. It wasn’t a show anyone would enjoy; he wasn’t as fast or as sharp as her, so it went. 

“You’re going easy on me,” he commented after one palm to his chin made his head rattle. He shook it off.

“Yes? It’s a spar, remember? So of course I’m going to go easy at it.” Valondrac smirked. “You’re not bad. You’re not especially good though.”

“So I’m noticing. I’m better with a club.”

“Get one then.”

He blinked. Then he did. A wooden one, made for training. The weight felt right in his hand, and he smirked. “Better.”

The next try gave him a better advantage–He swung his club hard and Claire actually ducked, a surprised grin on her face–with reach and force. He knew how to use weapons, and just that sight bit of comfort made it a lot better.

Hard swings couldn’t be palmed away, and he knew how to avoid overextending. She tried the wall of fire and he blasted it away with the shockwave–Ah, clever lady rushed in quick, nearly got him with a palm but he was expecting it and had a hand free, shooting forward at her face and making her duck, off balance as he rolled with the momentum and nearly slammed his club straight into her chest when he twisted, only for her foot to shoot up and kick it straight up, outta his hand.

She let him get it before the next round, both of them grinning wide by now, and then it went on. 

Claire burned bright, that much was obvious. Not just with the fire she was spewing, but with drive. She was damn interesting, and he wanted to knock her out! In a good way! 

Fuck, he was having actual fun!

Seth started laughing, his smile as wide as hers as palms of burning flame heated the air. The snow below them even started to melt from it, and it felt fucking beautiful! 

This was HEAT! And gods, it felt natural!

His breath was steaming in the air as the wall of earth erupted up and Claire flipped over it, her kick catching on his club, raised to block! There were cracks of thunder as fire burst into lightning, her style changing in an instant as palms became two-fingers jabs! She blocked his swings with closed fists, soil erupting from actual dirt! Melted snow formed to water as she twisted and dodged, smiling all the while! And he knew he hadn’t seen anything yet!

His teeth were getting sharper! More and more pillars of stone shot up as she wove around them and he broke them down, til he spotted her standing on one and his back tore, his eyes burning cold and alive as wings erupted out and he charged for her!

“YOU GOT THIS, SETH!” Arnie shouted from over by the village! They moved far out from it and he didn’t even notice! HA! THAT WAS GOOD, HE DIDN’T WANNA HURT HIS PEOPLE! AND HE WAS HAVING SO MUCH FUCKING FUN!

Valondrac looked small for a second but that didn’t make any fucking sense so he ignored it, swinging his claws down and crushing pillars and trying to catch her with his teeth! She was flying on feathery wings, laughing and wild, and Seth flapped his own leathery wings as his tail smashed through stone, before launching straight for her as she grinned once and–

He flinched back as she flicked his snout, the sudden pain catching him off guard. Which, weird, he’d ignored all other pain up until that point, he had a way high tolerance for it, and also how the fuck was he flying, what?

“...uh.” Seth twisted his neck and looked at his back. Which he could do. Because his neck was long now? And he had wings. And his tail was longer. And his legs were different and what??

“Alright, wow! This was definitely worth it! Ha ha ha! Holy shit, you actually turned into a dragon!” 

“...I did?” He did. “...Holy shit.”

“Yeah! I said that! Holy shit dude!"

“Yeah...huh.” He stared at himself some more, then glanced down at the stone pillars he was standing on. On all fours. Because he was on all fours now. “...Damn, you made a lot of these.”

“I did, yes. I did melt most of the ice, so it wasn’t as though I could use that to great effect. Besides, you’re an ice dragon, that would be like trying to fight a torei with lightning.”

“A what?”

“Olafiban lightning spirit, you can see them if you, saaaaaay, decided to join up with my army, Mister Huge Ice Dragon?”

He glanced back at her. Weirdly, despite Seth objectively being bigger than her, she didn’t feel small in the slightest. “...I didn’t beat you though. And you didn’t beat me.”

“And?”

He paused. Honestly, fair argument. So he nodded. “Alright. This village is mine. I don’t know how this army stuff works, who gets what territory, but this one’s mine. They’re my people, my benefits go to them.”

Claire smirked. “They do say every dragon has a hoard...I suppose at least one of them would start collecting people, wouldn’t they?”

“Nah. Not collecting people. Finding friends.”

“...Ha. To finding friends then.”

Speaking of friends, Seth decided he should show Arnie what just happened.

“Hey Arnie! I’m a dragon now!”

“I can see that! Can you turn back?”

“Probably! I’ll try later! I like this!”

“Okay, but try before you come into the city! You were already a giant, so this is honestly ridiculous!”

“It’s honestly amazing is what it is! Ha!”

The orc winced. “Why the hell’s he shoutin’...”

And the vamp patted her shoulder. “Exuberance, my dear bane of lions. Joyful exuberance.”

So yeah! Seth was a dragon now, and he was working for the Demon Lord. Got a good job and reached the divine metamorphosis all members of his race had the potential to reach, yet few ever did. And he was one of them. So yeah, suck on that one, random ice leviathan. 

Seth wasn’t just surviving, he was living.

[spero11]

makki week, day seven - partners (soul eater au)

they had to start somewhere.

@2018makkiweek

Nikki felt the excitement shooting up her spine. She couldn’t help but examine herself in the mirror and make sure that she had everything she needed. Her skin was tingling, and her hands were clenching and unclenching. Even her soul seemed to pulse with the desire to resonate with someone. She was ready to find herself a partner.

Starting Monday, she, along with many others, would be attending Death Weapon Meister Academy. Tonight was the annual ceremony where Meisters and Demon Weapons were gathered. They were to seek out each other and form a special bond that would only be shared between the weapon and their handler.

Tonight, she would have someone to hold that connection with.

"Nicolette, you have to leave!" Candy called out. Nikki hurried through the living room and toward the door, "I know, I know. I'm gonna be late!"

As her daughter was putting on her boots, Candy looked confused by her words. "What? No, I meant that I have a hot date coming over in five minutes, and you're still here."

Nikki gave her a look from her seat on the floor. "Really?"

"I mean, you wanna stay here and become a voyeur?" at Nikki's disgusted face, Candy waves her hand, "See? I'm kicking you out for your own good."

"I'm going to the Partnership Ceremony, anyway."

"Oh, right. Well, then I guess it's a win-win."

"Yeah, okay. Bye, Mom."

Nikki was soon making her way up the lengthy flight of stairs, where the grand and ornate building rested at the top. She was able to allow her gaze to wander, which led her to wonder if any of the nearby students were destined to be her partner. The laughing moon shined upon Death City, as if there was a joke unseen by mere earthlings. Nikki liked to laugh and joke with the moon, sometimes. It was a great audience.

The ceremony was held inside an expansive ballroom, filled with kids and a few supervising adults. In the distance, Nikki could see a red-haired man discussing with a dark-skinned woman, distress written all over his face. She would be more entertained if she wasn’t practically vibrating with enthusiasm. Her left arm had a red bandana tied around it, indicating her role as a Meister. It seemed as though all the kids possessing blue bandanas were already chatting with a Meister.

After a few futile attempts to find a partner, she was roaming around the prodigious building. Her feet led her through the empty, dark halls, before she ended up on a balcony. She took a deep breath and enjoyed the fresh air. The view was magnificent, with the entirety of Death City surrounding the hill the school was located on. She scarfed down the food she picked up from the tables before placing the plate down onto the railing.

It didn’t take her long to notice that there was a shadow looming over her figure. She turned around and darted her attention upward, seeing the silhouette of a boy sitting on the roof. Nikki blinked, her eyes quickly catching the blue bandana tied around his mouth.

“Hey!” she called. “You’re a Demon Weapon?”

She couldn’t see what face he was making, but his tone didn’t sound very friendly. “Why? You need me to cut shit?”

“No, I’m looking for a partner!” Nikki pointed at her red bandana, “See? I’m a Meister!”

“Tough luck, I refuse.” He hissed, “I’m not letting anyone touch me.”

“Oh...” she furrowed her eyebrows, “but I washed my hands.”

The boy sighed and jumped down to her level, pulling the bandana around his mouth further down to his neck. She was able to see the rest of him in color; blue jacket, tanned skin, dark curly hair, and entrancing, green eyes. But there was also...

He seemed to have noticed she was staring, “What? Scared?”

Sharp teeth. He had very sharp-looking teeth.

He went wide-eyed when she bounded up to him. “Oh, my gosh! Your teeth are like a shark’s!”

A shark? He’s heard of demon, monster, and the like, but just a regular shark? “...Wha—”

“And your eyes! They’re so bright!” she reached up to graze him, but he smacked her hand away. “I said no.”

“Sorry, sorry. I just thought that you were really cool!”

He seemed to take her in, just as she was analyzing him. “What’s your name?”

“My name is Nikki! I’m twelve and ready to be a Death Scythe Meister!” she cocked her head at him. “What about you?”

“I’m,” he pointed out toward the gorgeous view, “going to get outta here. I don’t wanna stick around when I let the school have it.”

“You... what?”

“Yeah, and since I feel like being nice, I advise you get out of here, too.”

“Whoa, whoa, wait!” she blocked his way, “What did you do?!”

He smirked at her. “Well, I thought this night was lame, and decided to let go one of the academy’s training robots. The biggest one they had.”

She frowned, “You know, other any other circumstances, that would be great! But tonight is the night for Weapons and Meisters to begin their journey together!”

He tried to get passed her, but she wouldn’t let him. “Why do you care so much?”

“Because I want to be a Death Scythe Meister!” Nikki argued, “Because it’ll be an amazing and long adventure!”

“Who the hell else cares about that?!” he glared at her. “Get out of my way.”

There was a resounding explosion behind them. Screams followed afterward, causing Nikki to gasp and the boy to grin darkly. “Looks like it got out.”

He passed her in her moment of shock. She quickly realized and was about to reach out to him, but stopped just short of his jacket.

“Please, wait.” Something about her voice made him freeze as he was climbing the railing. “I was really, really excited about tonight, but it sucked because no one wanted to partner up with me. Still, I didn’t want to give up the idea of going to school everyday to learn how to kick butt and go on missions with someone I can call a friend.”

She felt her lip quiver. “It’s all... I had. Even if it was just a possibility.”

A few long moments passed without a word exchanged. In the background, there were several more echoing clangs and chimes. He finally sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, “Fuck, you’re annoying.”

He grabbed her hand, to which her head snapped up. In a flash of light, his body morphed into his weapon form. Suddenly, there was a beautiful, elongated scythe in her hand. Dark as the night with tints of blue and collared with icy gray triangles. The blade was curved sharply, cut in half and jagged with the same icy gray.

“What are you waiting for? Let’s kill the bitch!”

“R-Right!” she ran toward the commotion as his voice continued to come from the weapon. “Don’t tell me you were spouting bullshit and seriously don’t even know how to fight.”

Nikki scowled and fastened her grip on the handle. “We’re gonna get that robot.”

The smirk was heard in his tone. “That’s the spirit.” 

She skidded at the entrance of the ballroom and was met with a ferocious robot and downed kids. The room was mostly empty, save for the ones still fighting. It seemed as though the rest of them were swiftly taken out of the building and were being watched over by the teachers, for there were none around. She asked, puzzled, “Where are the adults?!”

“Fuck them! We’ll take care of it ourselves.”

She beamed. “Heck yeah!”

Launching off of her step, she gathered her momentum by spinning in the air, then swinging the scythe against the robot before it could attack another kid. She evaded a few of the lightning-fast attacks of the robot, while defending herself a couple of times with the weapon. The clash of metal against metal rang in her ears, which made her wince. One of the jabs nearly nicked her cheek, yet she was able to move just in time. Without hesitation, she fluidly twirled the scythe in her hand before slamming the weapon in its side, sending the machine flying to another wall.

“...Damn. You know what you’re doing.”

“Thanks! I have a lot of energy!” she jumped up, avoiding the long appendages that shot out from the smoke. With a battlecry, she sliced the robot straight down the middle, effectively destroying it. She panted heavily as the boy reformed back to his human appearance. The students around them were is absolute awe, whispering comments and inching just a little closer to the mangled machine.

“Maaax!”

“Oh, shit.” The boy groaned and squeezed his eyes in exasperation. Nikki looked at him with wonder. “Your name is Max?”

The redhead from earlier stormed toward them and placed his hands on his hips. “You did this, didn’t you?”

“Yeah, maybe I did. Where the fuck were you?” he glowered up at him. “I didn’t see you stopping a robot from hurting other people, David.”

“You were the one who released it in the first place.” He wagged his finger, “I was trying to find a way to make the ceremony more enjoyable, so I left it to my fellow teachers.”

“You’re such a lousy Death Scythe.”

“Wait, what!?” Nikki clutched David’s shirt, much to his surprise. Astonishment was shining on her face. “You’re a Death Scythe?!”

“Yep, and he sucks at it.”

“Max—” David sighed in defeat, “I thought it would be nice for you to participate tonight and find a partner. But you haven’t even found one offer. Instead, you tried to ruin it for everyone else.”

Nikki tugged on his shirt again, yet with a different expression. “Max may have released the robot, but he did help me stop it. And also, I gave him an offer!”

David was taken aback. “What? Really?”

She was smiling now, but a little sadly, “Yeah, although, he already said—”

“Sure.”

“N—Really?!” Nikki whirled around to face Max. “You’ll be my partner!?”

“Are you sure you aren’t just pulling this girl’s leg?” David inquired suspiciously. Max pointed his thumb in her direction. “She said she wanted to be a Death Scythe Meister, which means I’ll be a Death Scythe. And I sure as hell am gonna be a better Death Scythe than you.”

Nikki felt herself smile at his words that exuded confidence about her, himself, and their future partnership. The two were also astounded to see David’s soft smile, as well.

“That’s great, Max.”

Said boy growled, but his hard countenance shifted slightly. “Shut up.”

Abruptly, the dark-skinned woman from before marched inside with an enraged expression. David smile turned sheepish, “I’ll... take care of this. You kids go outside.”

As he was forced to take up the wrath of his colleague, Max and Nikki were exiting the building. She was skipping the whole way, causing his gaze to follow her erratic movements.

“This is gonna be so much fun! We can move in to a dorm together, and every morning, I can cook breakfast!”

“I don’t really eat breakfast. I like coffee, though.”

“Oh, well, more for me! Say, how old are you?”

“Thirteen.”

“Thirteen? Whoa! Oh, oh, how are your teeth so sharp?”

“Genetics, maybe.”

“How are your eyes that shade of green?”

“How is your hair green at all?”

“Touché!”

As they traveled down the dim corridor, there seemed to be a certain light shared between them. This was the start of their adventure, and they would be partners every step of the way.

Sorry this is so late, but I had to get it in before the day ended!

Thank you everyone who has been following my fics for this week! It’s been really fun, and I had never done anything like this before.

some art to go with the fic

[ondownthemountain]

Been a year

Kinda wanna write about this in a non-urgent way.

I’ve been home for the summer, and it’s been nice. I get to do so much stand-up and practice so much martial arts with my oldest friends. I eat burritos and hug my grandparents and went rafting and watched a meteor shower with my brothers.

And when I feel motivated I go for a run. I did it a few times this summer. I feel like if I don’t watch it I’ll “get fat.” Not that there’s anything wrong with that. But I wanna stay lean.

Anyway.

Being home is hard. Not just because there’s no privacy, because I worry I’m the only one who cares about maintaining my oldest friendships, because my mom is raging and rude and my dad is a jello cup of shame. All that is tough, but it’s always tough. 

What’s really hard, what hits me like a dump truck, what makes my ears hot and my lungs as tight and empty as a crushed up bottle of water, are the memories.

Memories of my ex. First love.

I don’t want to be with her, first off. Let’s get that out of the way. Being with her would mean letting go of a lot of stuff we’ve both worked really hard to build.

Doesn’t mean I don’t remember her, though. And last year, when I was living here, we... crossed paths... just for a few months. And it was surreal, it was a tornado, and it didn’t end on good terms. 

And for months, even as I was faraway in Boston, the guilt would come up and squeeze me, and I wouldn’t be able to smell, or see, or breathe, and I’d black out, or fall asleep, or need to squinch shut my eyes and count and think and do something. Like picture my little brother, when he was a fat baby, gurgling in the bath. Something like that. Pure, you know? To bring me back.

Anyway. Being here is tough because the last time I was here... she was my world. I haven’t lived here and not had her be, you know, it. My lens, my friend, my hope. Literally, not since like, 2009. 

It’s exhausting. I love my hometown so much and I wanna be able to walk around and see it unvarnished by my love for her. But instead of My High School, it’s The Old C Building Stairwell Where We Cuddled and I Skipped Track. Instead of Nations, chill late nite burger joint, it’s Diner Where Her Dad Took Me to Eat Pie and Talk Politics While She Sulked, Where She Hugged Me Just Last Year.

My mom always lashes out at me, tongue dripping venom, when I come home.��

“Why do you want to come home? To see your brothers? Your friends? I’m reeeaally worried that they’re holding you back.”

And I tell her that is my reason-- which is true-- and that they could never hold me back-- which is true-- but that’s not the full truth. Because half the reason I’m so insistent on coming back is to normalize the place I’m from, the place I love. So I live here, and it’s my life, free and independent and replete with memories that do not. revolve. around. her.

So anyway. I’ve been running.

I ran from my house up to Panoramic couple weeks ago. Pretty far, and I fuckin did it. And it was easy til I started to crest the hill.

Because I rounded the first bend and could hear her teasing me as we drove down it in 2012. I could smell the weed on her breath as she, chill as fuck, drove us down around that tight curve in 2011.

And I muscle past that bend, and the next, and then on the long brown grey stretch before the next big hill I remember driving, just last year, my right hand clenching hers, as neither of us looked at each other and she talked slow and even and told me about the bad things that happened to her in college, when she was away, when we weren’t talking.

And it hits, not just the memory but the shame. I should’ve pulled over and hugged her. I should’ve listened harder. I should’ve left, then and there, knowing I’d just hurt her again. Should’ve done anything but keep driving, holding her hand.

The red-hand of that shame, raspy and rough, claws at my larynx. Doesn’t make cresting this hill any easier. But I push on, on and up, thinking if maybe I can see the violets and agave plants of the hillcrest, the ones I took a picture of my girlfriend in front of just last month, I’ll be here, in the new memories--

But no dice. Instead it’s me and her, sitting just on the other side of the railing, in the dead straw grass, smoking. Me angry, her sad. 2 days before we go back to college. And break up for the final time. 

And she turns her head sideways, and looks at me with her little slit eyes, and exhales out the thinnest stream of smoke. I’m cold, I have my plaid-shirt’s sleeves rolled down and buttoned, but again, she’s chill as fuck, and she looks and gulps and pauses and says--

“You look really cute with your sleeves rolled down. I can’t believe I never knew that. You always rolled em up. But you look so cute with your sleeves rolled down.”

Back here in 2017 I’m hacking and coughing. That weedsmoke. Shit. 

I run harder now, harder even though I’m tired, down the side of the hillcrest to the big rock. Think about my girlfriend-- my current one-- and my best friends sitting here, planning jokes and feeling free. I have to think about it. Have to, as I cradle my hot head and cough up phlegm. That’ll keep me here.

                                                                   *

That run was rough. Didn’t try to run anything in the hills again til today. 

I knew I needed to work off the soreness from rafting and knew I wanted to feel fast, feel free-- also knew that I needed a hill to really get that feeling. Like back in high school, when I ran with Eugenio. I saw him last night. He said I was the best friend he ever had. Smartest guy, too.

Yeah, that’s right. Fuck it. I’m gonna run a hill. Like he and I used to, together.

But I know what it means. The only hill to run, the only route I know that’ll let me make it to work in time to finish this memo, is Indian Rock.

Indian Rock. Where we first kissed.

Yes, I’d kissed another girl up there before her, and yes I kissed like 3 girls there after and yes it’s just a rock, but... it still feels like hers. Sometimes. She used to live right next to it, you know. Sometimes in high school I’d run that route and just bump into her. Sometimes I ran it on purpose. Knowing, just knowing, she’d be out walking and I’d see her.

I know I won’t now, though. She moved, and probably avoids that place anyway. Her friends aren’t really the pipe-n-burrito type anymore and she probably just has bad memories of me there anyway. Still, though. I’m kinda scared I’ll see her.

Fuck it, though. I’m gonna run it.

And I lace up my shoes and go--

and it’s instant. Boom, my old house, where we had our first time. Boom, the school, where she refused to show me her stories and I showed her mine. Boom, the park she met me in one night, warm, in january, and I, unbothered for once, dozed off up on a tree branch like an ocelot, waiting for her.

Boom, the corner she left me on with our first public kiss-- good luck-- before I ran off to rehearsal for some silent play where I played a rabbit. Boom, the street we walked-- walked up to her house. And the one time where we walked on different streets, parallel, and I beat her to her house and she called me, angry, cuz she was still a few blocks back, waiting where I forgot I’d said I’d meet her.

You see what I mean? It’s exhausting. Relentless. Every crunch of grass, every smooth slap of my feet against the deep black pavement reminds me, in a rhythm-- you fucked up. you fucked up. you fucked up. you hurt her, hurt her, hurt her. Weak, weak, weak.

And I try to steady myself. Focus on my form. Remember the track team trading jabs, the seniors teasing me, as I struggled to keep up on this route, to even make it halfway to the rock. Remember my coach telling me the middle of the street was actually a softer impact than the sidewalk. Remember picking my little brother, the gurgly one, from school-- his elementary is on this street.

But like one of those insistent radio stations that follows you, even after you cross county lines, she came back. Cuz I remember how fast I’d tear up this trail to get to her house, and how fast I’d tear down from her place once I realized I was late for my brother, for practice, for something. 

Remember being so cut, nine pack abs and bleeding all the time from my own brittle skin, my pimples on my chest, her nails on my back, remember never feeling tired and always feeling ready and showing up at her place sweaty and licking each other clean and man I had never felt so alive! And when you’re a law student, and you’re always sleepy, and you’re outta shape, man oh man is it tough to feel that alive.

But I keep running, dude, cuz I’m gonna feel alive. Alive alive, on my terms, alive. Believe it.

A right, a left, and there it is; the tunnel, and the giant stone stairs.

I hit the stairs like a bullet, like some kinda bug. Scuttle up em, fast. And now I’m smiling cuz I remember taking Robert and Mateo up here and showing them just how fast I was, after one semester on the team. Remember them getting tired and stopping on these steps. Remember how they convinced me to pee off em. We tagged every bus that came out the tunnel.

And then, the traffic circle. If I make the first right, I’ll end up at her old house.

It’s my first time up here in a long, long time.

And being up here I kinda start thinking. Bout how we said we’d always love each other. How we’d carry each other inside.

This is the intersection where Eugenio had to carry me home, crying, when she wouldn’t say bye to me before leaving to college. The intersection where, a year later, her dad paid me n my boys to help them move, and his old red truck stalled in the intersection, and he said “Oops!” in a way that made everyone crack up and just, like magic, started that shit up again.

I’m remembering all these memories and I’m like, dude. I don’t hate her.

I always knew but never said. This time I said it, tasting the dried salt on my lips from running, from sweating. 

Hm.

Why do all these memories sting me? Slice into me, slice in a way that makes me wish some assassin, some riptide blade, would actually come slice me in those some places, those same ways, to deaden the pain?

Cuz I hurt her. Cuz I know she hates me. Cuz I know she wants nothing to do with me ever again. 

Right? I insisted she love me and when she finally tried to I discarded her love. Over. and over. again. 

That’s it. That’s only why it hurts. Not because she hurt me. Cuz she did. She did. She lied and kept secrets and kept me a secret and, and... it never changed a thing. At least about what I felt for her.

And I jog along, and cut in front of some green van, and it’s like, hm. She stabbed me a hundred times and all I can think about is the hundred times I stabbed her. Hm.

I run and run and run, up the hill to Indian Rock.

I love this run, dude. Even before I knew she lived up here, I loved it. The slope, it’s so strong. Gradual, graceful, challenging but good. I loved it. Come to think of it, I think that’s what made it so special, when I finally learned where she lived. Cuz I already loved the run.

Something about the air, the smell of eucalyptus, the dark grey clouds and the mist just fill me up and I realize.

She doesn’t hate me.

She might’ve lied about a couple things but she never lied about how she felt about me. She refused to tell me she loved me til she meant it. And then she did mean it. And when she said always she meant it. And when she said no more, it’s too much, she meant it. And I did too. I did too.

I get to the rock. It’s beautiful. Towering and jagged and grey, and I climb it. Pick my way up dainty, taking the narrow ways, the ways only kids can fit. 

And I hop and jump and get to the top. And there’s a ton of fog but way far away, by just its belly, I see the Golden Gate Bridge.

Yeah. Yeah, we had some firsts up here. 

So did a lot of kids.

Looking down the slope of the rock I see some cans. An empty case of Bud. I shuffle down the rock, grab the cardboard case, and make my way about the rock, picking up all the loose cans. It’s only about four.

Then I climb down the rock, the way I came. Check the secret cave underneath, pick up one more can and a swisher wrapper. 

I go to the garbage can and dump it. There’s in’n’out in the garbage can. Makes me smile. The closest in’n’out is miles away. That means some kids really knew that they wanted for a perfect night. Those burgers, those shakes, and this view. Must’ve been nice. 

For real. It makes me grin. Teeth and everything.

I turn and run downhill.

After a while, running became about her. It started off as a way to show how good I was. How fast and in control. And then, for a sweet spot in the middle, it was brotherhood, and connection to my town, and nature. And then after her, through her, it became about being primal. About pushing my limits and craving red meat.

I used to love to run to her place. I loved running everywhere. Running like that meant I was burning fat away, clean, and shredding up my abs and my whole body so that I was ready to be held, to be washed.

Running, running to her, meant being and becoming strong for her, meant never tiring, never getting sore.

And my feet swirl over and over like a bicycle, like my friend’s hands when he practices wing chun, like two trout. I roll down the hill.

And it makes me smile because running still means the same thing. Running here, running through the same old memories... it’s still being strong. It’s still loving her, by being strong.

But this time, I’m not running to her, like she wanted. I’m running forward, like she wants. Like I want. Like everyone who loves me wants. I run up here, and I run back, and it means being strong, strong as I always was, and it mean running forward, finding something new.

I run up and I feel her and I run back and I feel her  like sweat flying off my brow behind me as I run and I feel nothing, hold nothing, carry nothing. I’m running forward and I’m being and learning and staying strong. For me. For everyone. 

[sending-the-message]

Sob Story by PastasaurusRex

“I remember each and every detail vividly. It was right in front of me. It's hard to forget such a sight, you know.

“I opened my eyes to a visual straight from a psychopath's wet dream. I felt horror for the first split second, but it was followed by intense grief and sadness. I did not want this to happen, you know.

“She was hanging from the ceiling. I'm speaking euphemistically, but I guess I don't need to do that here. She was hanging by a metal chain wound multiple times around her neck, linked to a hook in the ceiling. She was completely naked, and there was a puddle of blood right below where she was... hanging. A crowbar was lying on the floor, red from either rust, or blood, or both. The blood had leaked out of her shoulder blade, where she had tried to penetrate herself, I'm supposing, with the crowbar. When she couldn't get the whole thing inside her, she had resorted to pulling out her ribs with it, one by one. What was left were the grotesque remains of a woman with a constricted throat, a hole in her shoulder, and multiple ribs poking out from her chest. It made me incredibly sad.

“It was, all things considered, a very brutal suicide.”

The detective banged both his fists on the interrogation table and jumped from his chair, sending it flying. He was livid.

“Do you really expect me to believe that bullshit!? How the fuck could anyone do this to themselves!? This is murder as plain as the fucking day outside!”

I could see he was really angry. Whether at me, or the situation, or his failure to crack the case within record time, or the system, I couldn't tell. But, truth be told, I didn't expect him to believe that bullshit. I don't expect any police officer in the world to believe this. Hell, it's too hard to believe for myself!

“Have you found my prints on the weapon, detective?” In hindsight, I believe emphasising on the word ‘weapon’ wasn't a very smart move.

The detective glared at me as though his eyesight might just turn me to ash. He picked up his clipboard, ruffled through a few papers, and threw it away angrily. After what seemed to be many minutes, he grunted a gruff “No!” which was followed by an equally gruff “But the forensics team is still running tests on it! I will keep them awake for as long as it takes, but I'll make sure they find your prints, so that I can nail your ass in federal prison!”

I closed my eyes in defeat. I took a couple of deep breaths to calm myself down. I also wished that would somehow calm the detective down.

When I opened my eyes, the detective was sneering at me. He had unholstered his service pistol and had kept it on the table, bang in the middle. He had kept both hands on the edge of the table and was leaning on it, as if almost taunting me to spill the beans.

When he spoke, it was with an almost mischievious tone. “So tell me. How exactly did she commit the suicide?” Mocking my previous emphasis didn't go unmissed by me.

I took a few more deep breaths, taking all the time in the world to make sure that the words escaping my mouth next make as much sense as possible. But no matter how I form the sentence in my head, it seemed as far-fetched as finding platinum on the moon.

“She wanted to know my story. I refused. She urged me to. I didn't want to. She was so beautiful. She cajoled me and told me not to worry. I warned her that it won't end well for her. She convinced me to tell her. She had it coming. I couldn't help it.”

My voice cracked at the end of that. The detective was looking at me as if I'm some clown asking to be taken seriously. His expression was an intriguing mixture of bewilderment, anger, and disbelief.

“What the fuck are you rambling on about, man!?”

It felt like he wanted to continue, but thought better of it. I realised he was expecting a response to that short question.

I had no other option. This wasn't going to end well.

“I thought of visiting one of those underground S&M bars. I'd heard a lot about them, and all those Rock & Roll videos made them look super sexy.

“I was just sitting at the bar, enjoying my drink, when this very attractive woman walked over to me. She was piss drunk, and she had to latch on to the edge of the bar so that she wouldn't fall. Despite her drunken state, she came across as quite hot.

“She looked at me, then she looked me up and down. With a mischievious smile on her face, she whispered in my ear, ‘I'm into masochism. Wanna come home with me?’

“There was something very seductive in her voice, which I couldn't refuse. We went to her place, where she offered to grace me with a lap dance. I had forgotten my worries momentarily, but then...”

“But then what!? Go on, you pussy!”

I sighed heavily. I was setting myself up for murder charges. But I went on because I wanted to live, to tell my tale.

“She asked me what my story was. And what a good-looking man like me was doing sad and alone at an S&M bar. Like I mentioned before, I didn't want to talk about it. But she told me that the lap dance will only happen if I speak up. I refused and started to get up to leave. She pinned me down, cuffed my hands to the railing behind the couch, and blindfolded me. Told me she had a high tolerance rate. Masochism and all. I figured that there was no way outta this, so I started speaking.

“The next thing I saw was when the team of cops arrived and ripped open my blindfold and I saw her... like that.”

Tears welled up in my eyes, and I had to turn and blink them away.

The detective was utterly confused now, and rightly so. How could anyone explain this bizarre chain of events? It made me sad that the English language was so limited when you truly wanted to speak what was going in your mind.

Defeated, he pulled up the chair and sat opposite me.

“Listen, man. I'm not going to ask you again. I've had enough of this. At least have the balls to tell a half-convincing lie. What the fuck am I supposed to understand by the shit you just spouted!? You told ‘your story,’” – he made air quotes – ”and the whore just up and proceeded to impale, defile, and asphyxiate herself!?”

“Not that order, I think –”

”I don't give a fuck what you think! Jesus H. Christ! I'm not even close to being convinced!”

He looked at me for a long time. Then at the CCTV camera in the corner of the ceiling. Then he leaned in close to me and whispered, “Look, asshole. I don't give a fuck about the authorities or what shit the system piles on me. You have two options right now. Either you tell me what you really did, or I riddle your brain with the contents of this killing tool.”

I believed him. I could see he meant business. But I didn't know how to make him believe me. I was as far from murder as a baby in a crib.

“Either you tell me your story right now, or another murder happens tonight. In this room.”

“I wouldn't advise –”

“You don't advise me about shit, sonny. You tell me your story. Or you die. Make a voluntary decision. This is it. My patience is running as thin as your lies.”

This was really it, then, wasn't it? No other way out. If he wanted to know my story, then so be it. I don't understand it. I doubt if he will.

As I begin speaking, I see the detective's eyes widen in horror, then fill with tears. Sobbing uncontrollably, he proceeds to pick up his pistol, cock the hammer, and place the barrel to his temple.