#like. they were DEAD!!! they shoulda been DEAD!!!! but he walks back into that training room ONE LAST TIME on the off chance

[swinging-stars-from-satellites]

not gonna lie like the revelation at the end that they got one more chance now in a better world is like. profound to me

[twinterrors29]

the surprising part is how long it takes him to notice

it’s not until years after his death that Obi-Wan realized that the other Force ghosts were not quite as...tangible, as he is; they got ‘tired’, and weren’t ‘present’ all the time the way he was

Obi-Wan wrote it off as some quirk of his connection to the Force, some difference in his training compared to the others

but Anakin, for all his power, could only show himself to Luke, briefly and without voice

Yoda, for all his years of preparation, beginning even before teaching Obi-Wan himself and extending after his death, cannot interact with the physical world, and yet Obi-Wan has always been able to sit on real surfaces and touch the living at will

not to mention Qui-Gon, who can only ever manifest as a disembodied voice, and even that only rarely, and exclusively to Yoda, Anakin, and Obi-Wan

that belief was shattered by an accidental encounter after the Battle of Endor

Captain Rex (who was still refusing to accept his well-deserved promotion to Commander) wasn’t the least bit Force-sensitive, and by all rights shouldn’t have even been able to see him

after all, none of the other clones he’d sought out over the years since his death reacted to his presence, although he couldn’t bear to visit any of them more than the once

and yet

“shoulda known the rumors of your death were exaggerated, huh,” Rex had muttered, walking up to deliver a slap to his surprisingly-solid shoulder

they awkwardly, but happily, chatted about Rex’s ongoing efforts to track down his surviving brothers for a few minutes before he got called away, leaving Obi-Wan staring after him in disbelief

then he settled in to piece together this new mystery

it’s not like he had much else to do, being dead, and with the Empire largely defeated

and now that he had a purpose to pursue, his ability to interact with the physical realm and non-Force-sensitives came in handy when attempting to research esoteric Force phenomena in a galaxy nearly empty of his own people

first, he drew on dimly recalled memories of a strange incident during the Clone Wars: Mortis, a planet where even Qui-Gon was able to appear, and where he witnessed a series of unusual deaths

with a little digging, he was able to pull up some unexpected references to the three beings he met, the Daughter, the Father, and the Son, in old Jedi legends, and even a reference to Nightsister beliefs regarding the Daughter and Son in particular, but was able to find no reference to others in his state

he found nothing regarding their origins, and little more about their home planet

unable to find Mortis itself again, Obi-Wan instead searched through the remnants of several long-abandoned Dathomiri villages when he was found by a familiar face

“General,” the clone breathed, looking awed

it took a second for Obi-Wan to recognize him; it has been so very, very long, and age had taken it’s toll on his former Commander, but there was no mistaking the curving scar around his left eye

“Cody?”

“I killed you,” Cody looked faint

“no, dear one,” Obi-Wan quickly denied, “you didn’t, and even if you had, it wouldn’t have been your fault”

it took a few more reassurances, but eventually his old friend was willing to accept that he hadn’t, in fact, killed his General

after all, it’s hard to argue that you killed the seemingly-alive and whole man standing in front of you

“you know,” he remarked, sipping at the tea he had made for Obi-Wan, who was politely pretending to be able to drink it, “I probably should have figured it’d be harder to kill you, considering all the stories the men would tell about you”

“oh?” Obi-Wan asked, remembering that Rex had expressed a similar sentiment, “what sorts of stories?”

“that you were some unkillable god of misdirection or something,” he paused for another sip, “all respectful of course, but the rumors had definitely spread back to Kamino before the war ended”

this was news to Obi-Wan, but considering the looks some of the shinies gave him when he welcomed them to the 212th, he could believe it

“they even built these little shrines to you”

“they what”

“yeah,” Cody winced, “I made them take it down whenever I found one, but I know I never found them all”

“speaking of finding,” Obi-Wan seized upon any chance to change the subject, “how long ago did Rex track you down?”

“Rex is alive?” Cody sounded surprised but pleased at this revelation

“ah, I assumed you knew; when I spoke with him recently he mentioned his efforts to find his brothers and remove their chips”

“no, I haven’t seen him since he left for Mandalore back during the war,” he shook his head, “and my chip just stopped working about three years ago”

“just like that?”

“yeah,” Cody squinted, recalling the experience, “I was getting ready to sleep after just another shift on the Devastator, when I felt...”

“felt?” Obi-Wan prompted, feeling an uncomfortable familiarity with the scene Cody was describing from his single visit to his Commander shortly after his own demise on the Death Star

“warm,” Cody eventually decided on, “I felt warm, and by the time the feeling had faded I was myself again”

Obi-Wan expressed his relief to hear about Cody’s awakening, but despite his joy at seeing his Commander safe and mostly happy, he couldn’t shake the feeling that he had something to do with Cody’s chip malfunctioning

after eventually parting ways with Cody, who had been sent to explore the slim possibility of starting a settlement on the long-abandoned home of the Nightsisters, Obi-Wan decided to search out the other survivors of the 212th that he had checked in on after his death

somehow, he wasn’t surprised to discover that every one of them was now free of the chips’ control, with no scar on their forehead like Rex’s, and that they were to a man working together to free and organize any of their remaining brothers

and, in each of their ships and bases, he noted, was a loving arrangement of lights and tea bags and plants, all surrounding a still holo of himself

[illogicalpunkwrites]

Drive Me Crazy

Hi everyone! So this is a part 2 to The Cave (click the link to read!) that someone asked about (for some reason it won’t let me tag you but I’ll message you!). Thank you so much for reading!

Pairings: Leonard McCoy X Kirk!Reader

Rating: T

Words: 2.1K

Warnings: Angst, injury, comfort, confessions, cursing

Tagss; @theweepingvulcan91 @bloodangelballerina

You could tell that Len was tense as you and Jim sat on biobeds. You clutched at your side that was still bleeding, spreading pain throughout your entire body. You’d gotten hit by a rival tribe arrow trying to take over a peaceful settlement between the main tribe on the planet and Starfleet studying the flora for medicinal properties. Jim suffered from a sprained ankle that got twisted in a trap set, something he know you’d never let him live down.

It all happened so fast and you didn’t have any time to think, just act. Even with an arrow impaled in you, you had to grab the explosive they made so it wouldn’t kill anymore of the villagers or other Starfleet members. You grabbed the device and threw it just in time so it hit the enemy. It made them retreat and it also made you pass out.

You hissed and Len pressed down on your wound before he quickly hit you with a hypospray, the whispering sound being one that you had been used to for quite some time. He quickly got to work as Christine ran vitals on Jim. 

“Bones, what’s wrong?’ Jim asked and you thought Len’s forehead was going to pop out of his head. It reminded you of when the two of you refused to get along.

“Nothing.” He got to work suturing you up, making you lay down. It had barely pierced your large intestine but your blood rushing with the adrenaline made you bleed out faster back on the planet. 

“Len, I’m fine.”

“The hell you are.” 

Christine and Jim looked at each other as she put away her tricorder and turned off the machine behind him.

“Just rest for a few days, Captain. Keep your ankle elevated and you’ll be fine.” She replied and he nodded. 

“Bones, we had everything under-”

“Don’t you are say you had everything under control, Jim! She could’ve died! She went after a live explosive!”  Leonard snapped. 

“I knew what I was-”

“She did what she had to do to protect the village! I was out for the count and she stepped up!” Jim replied.

“She should’ve-”

“Hey! I’m right here so talk to me!” You snapped. “I did what I had to do, McCoy! If I hadn’t then the entire team would be dead! I did what I was supposed to do, I did my goddamn job. Now it’s yours to patch me up.” That reminded him of an argument you two had not too long ago. With a grumble under his breath he quickly finished you up.

“You’ll be fine soon. Take it easy if that’s somewhere in your job description.” He walked out of the room to care for other patients on the other side and you and Jim looked at each other. 

“Alright, we’ve been in scraps like this before but he’s never acted like this.”

“I know. I think it’s been a stressful day for everybody.” Christine sighed and went ahead trying to sterilize some equipment. 

“That’s for sure. Good work down there but next time we need to be more careful.” You laughed but winced and grabbed at your side.

“Sure, we’ve been saying that since we were kids. Go get some rest.” He walked out of medbay as you put your regulation uniform back on to get back to your room.

“He was upset, y’know.” Christine said, making you spin around. “You scared him when they told him you were unresponsive. He thought you had died, Commander. After he found out what you did and that you had a pulse, that’s when he got angry.”

“He’s always angry.”

“Not with you anymore. I know he enjoys the time you spend together after the cave incident.” You looked down at your boots pensively. Your job was dangerous, what you did was dangerous, but it ultimately ended the fight and saved everyone that you were trying to protect. But maybe you had been too harsh on Leonard. However, it wasn’t helping that he was talking to Jim about you rather than talking to you directly. It made you feel like a child again, like Jim was supposed to be your keeper. “Just take some time to heal. Maybe while you’re doing that you can talk to Dr. McCoy.”

“Yeah, maybe.”

XXXXXX

You sighed down at your PADD as you wrote the report for the previous day. After being stitched up, you pretty much all but passed out on your bunk. When you came back to reality, you knew that talking to Leonard had to be on your agenda but You couldn’t bring yourself to him. It was weird though. You usually talked every day but it had been over 24 hours at this point. 

Taking one last sip of your liquor, you put on some flats and slipped out of your room. His room wasn’t too far away, but you also knew that he stayed in his office when he was stressed so he might not be there. You gave a soft knock on the door and you had wished you put on some pants instead of shorts with your baggy academy crewneck. 

He opened the door but he didn’t look excited to see you like every other time you would visit. 

“Hey, can I come in?” He moved out of the way for you and closed the door. “Can we talk?”

“Are you going to apologize?” You sighed and he took a sip of his bourbon. “Then there’s nothing to talk about.”

“Leonard, what do you want me to do?” You sat down in one of his chairs as he walked to the opposite side of the room.

“I just told you.”

“If I hadn’t done what I did then everyone would be hurt or dead! I’m sorry that I snapped at you. I shouldn’t have done that. But I’m not going to apologize for doing what I was trained to do.”

“To kill yourself? That’s what they trained you to do?” You felt your blood boiling over and you wish he would just understand. 

“To maximize the probability of my team living is what I was trained to do, Len!” You flinched when his glass harshly hit his desk as he spun to face you.

“Do you have any regard for yourself whatsoever? Do you ever think about your own well-being? I’ve said it  before and I’ll say it again, you get injured more than anyone on this damn ship! Do you even care about what happens to you?”

“Of course I do but one life is not as important as twenty others!” His brows furrowed at you. 

“What?”

“My life isn’t as important as-”

“WELL IT’S IMPORTANT TO ME!” He yelled and your eyes widened. He breathed out slowly and sat down at the foot of his bed. “It’s important to me. When they told me you were unresponsive, bleeding out...I didn’t know what to do with myself. I kept thinking about all the things that we hadn’t done yet, all the things I hadn’t told you, never gotten the chance to tell you. All the things you would have never known.” You were quiet, sheepish even. You searched around for the right words to say but you thought they might never come. He had his face buried in his hands, no doubt embarrassed by his outburst.

“My job is dangerous, Len. It’s hard knowing every time that I leave this ship it could by my last time seeing everybody. But I do it because I want to keep everyone else safe.”

“That doesn’t always have to come at the cost of you.” He replied and you nodded. 

“It often does. It kills me every time someone on my team gets hurt or dies. I always think about what I could’ve done or...” You shook your head and sat down next to him. “The worst times are when I’m away from the ship and...something happens when I’m not here but you are.” He lifted his head from his hands to look at you but you couldn’t bring yourself to look at him. “If something were to happen to you and I wasn’t there I don’t know what I would do. It fucking kills me thinking about that. I know that I need to be more careful and I’m sorry for scaring you. I’m just tired of being scared, of feeling guilt. But now I know I’m just making everyone else feel scared.” 

“I forget how many people you’ve lost on this mission.”

“And I forget how often you have too.” You were both silent but the room didn’t have the same energy. Tense? Yes. Anger? Not anymore. 

“I just...I can’t imagine not seeing you every day. You’re always on my mind and you drive me crazy. You’ve driven me crazy since the day you stepped aboard with your stubbornness and quick one liners.”

“Pot calling kettle black.” You sniffed and he chuffed. 

“But you’re courageous, funny, thoughtful. I’ve never met a person as caring as you. Even though that often comes out as suicide missions. I...darlin’ I can’t let anything happen to you.” He cupped your cheek and forced you to look at him. “You mean...you are...I’m not good at this shit. I haven’t done it in a while.” You smiled softly and leaned into his hand. 

“I promise I’ll be more careful.”

“That’s all I’m asking.” He replied.

“You’re not too bad yourself, y’know? Yeah you’re stubborn and sarcastic but you care. You’re an amazing doctor, strong-willed, funny, have excellent taste in liquor. I know it’s pathetic but I hated that we didn’t talk at all yesterday. I missed seeing your handsome face.” He laughed and got a smug grin. 

“Handsome, huh?” You rolled your eyes. “Lemme try this again and I hope this is what you’re trying to say too. I like you, a lot. Honestly I liked you even when I hated you. I want to be with you so you can drive me crazy all the time.”

You swore your breathing stopped but your heart kept beating rapidly. You felt like you might implode or pop your sutures. You couldn’t respond with words, so you did the next best thing.

You threw yourself at him, sutures be damned. You arms wrapped around his neck as you pressed your lips against his, His lips were a little chapped and still had the taste of the bourbon he was drinking but he was soon kissing you back with the same intensity. His fingers threaded through your hair as his other hand went to your lower back, sliding a little underneath you crewneck to caress the skin there. Even though you initiated it, you were tense but you soon melted against him.  

“Len...”

“I shoulda said it sooner, before I thought you were dead.” You rested against him, your head against his chest to feel his heartbeat. 

“I...Len I’m so sorry. I just want to do my best.”

“And as long as you do your best to stay alive, that’s all I need.” He replied, his fingers digging into the small of your back. You couldn’t fight back the tears in your eyes anymore and a few dripped down. 

“I love you, Leonard McCoy.” 

Now it was his turn for his breathing to stop. His grip tightened on you and his eyes closed. He’d been wanting to hear that for so long. 

“I feel like I have for a long time, even when I was supposed to hate you. I mean, you’re Jim’s best friend.” He chuckled against you.

“A forbidden fruit?” Somewhere he thought that Christine’s head was probably exploding.

“In a sense.” You smiled. “But I can’t...I can’t do this anymore. I can’t pretend that I don’t feel this way. When I woke up today in medbay all I could think about was you, our nights together, the cave. I promise I’ll be better, I’ll do better to take care of myself. Even if you can’t say it back, I’ll do better because I know what I’ve caused you to feel. What I’ve caused others to feel.”

“I love you too, darlin’. Have for a while.” You smiled and looked up at him, making him lean down and give you another kiss.  He wiped away the tears silently rolling down your cheeks. “I’ll always be there to patch you up, to do my job. But just make it less of a habit.” You nodded and rested your forehead against his. 

“Is it alright if I stay the night?”

“Your sutures-”

“Leonard McCoy! I’m a lady! I simply want to spend time with you and fall asleep in your incredibly comfortable bed.” You gasped mockingly, making him chuckle. “I just need to be with you right now.” He maneuvered you both so you were comfortably on the bed and under the covers, Your head was still on his warm chest and you looked out at the small window he had at the stars. You remembered how in the cave you told him you didn’t see yourself settling down. Well perhaps it was written in the stars that it would actually happen with the man you once detested. 

“So, when are we going to tell Jim?”

“Um...”

(Part 3 of Jim finding out and the ensuing chaos?)

[johnseedfanclub]

Wip Day

Startin this bad boy up (at least this is an attempt)

Chapter 6(?)

TW: Mentions of drugs, suicide, vulgar language, hallucinations, abuse, vomiting

Angel rose up out of bed with a groan followed by a stretch

“Good fucking LORD” Angel grinded out as he cracked his back “I feel worse than that one time I was injected with fucking ketamine...”

After contemplating his life choices, and considering putting a bullet to his head, Angel managed to drag himself towards the window of his room.

“Hmm. Still out here huh?” Angel grumbled discontentedly “I would’ve hope it was a dream” Angel looked up as if he were speaking to God himself

Angel made his way downstairs and looked around. House was still quiet. There’s no way that she was taken, right? Missy couldn’t be gone. Angel had his own “gifts” but Missy was a trained army soldier, maybe higher than just a soldier. All Angel knew was that she was trained in the army and probably had way more control over herself than he did over himself.

“..Missy..?...MISSY?!” Angel called, walking through the deathly silent home

No...no..this isn’t good...They couldn’t have possibly kidnapped her. She’s a trained professional. She would know what to do in these situations. Angel is more likely to get himself captured and probably nearly get himself, and others, killed in the process. And aside from that, if Missy is gone...what will be of Angel? He is nothing but a ticking time bomb waiting to lose control.

Suddenly the silence was broken as his radio cracked “Ayooooo Angel!!!”

Angel jolted nearly sending himself out of his skin “Who the fuck is that” Angel took out his radio “How did I not lose this shit...” he whispered to himself before clicking the radio “Hello..?” Angel answered back

A voice of happiness and relief was heard on the other side “Angellll! Great to hear you’re alive bud! Kinda heard a lot of ruckus going on back at the bunker since you were....ya know...spotted and all but this whole ordeal kinda died down a bit of course..for now that is”

Jesus Christ who is this guy and why is he rambling at a time like this...it’s too fucking hot and early to be talking a man’s ear off.

“Also uh..Sorry about the whole smoke sesh we had the other day I kinda got a bit too excited and gave you way more than a shoulda..You probably feel-“

For fucks sake.

“Jesus fuck you’re talking way too fucking much.” Angel clicked the radio and it went dead silent. Angel drew out a deep sigh and clicked the radio again “Sorry...Havin a bad mornin...what’s your name now?”

“Oh shit my bad- you’re probably feeling like a dog that got ran over!” Connor laughed on the other side “Probably can’t remember a damn thing either...I’m Connor! The guy you met in the bunker” Connor replied in benevolence

Angel paced in the living room “Connor.....guy I met in the bunker......smoking...” Angel froze in realization “This fucking dickwad-“ Angel clicked his radio “YOU’RE THE GUY THAT TRIED TO FUCK ME UP WITH THAT FUCKING BLISS- BULLSHIT.”

“Woah...hey now I said sorry for that already. I meant good intentions. I would never purposely fuck a gay man over unless he fucked me or my guys ov-“

“GOOD INTENTIONS? I HAD TO FIGHT THROUGH RUGGGED MEN WHILE NOT BEING ABLE TO SEE STRAIGHT” Angel blurted out

“HEY. I WAS TRYING TO BE NICE. TO BE FAIR I DIDN’T KNOW YOU HAD A RECORD” Connor yelled back drawling out the ‘record’

“WHATEVER. Say now....what did you give me. I nearly had night terrors because of that fucking plant. And there’s no fucking way that it’s just weed.” Angel sat himself down on the couch thinking about the nightmares he had last night

There was a silence after that question. Was it that it was a mistake? Should he not have asked? Or hesitation? Maybe there was something in that cigarette-joint whatever it was...he-...Connor had to have gotten it somewhere...this wasn’t no ordinary plant or mix of bad drugs in a plant. This was...different.

“Okay....look. I trust you. But you cannot say this to anybody.” Connor spoke carefully

Gullible for a man who works in a cult

“What I put in that joint was bliss oil and ground up Moonflower....l-look I’m sorry okay...the flower adds to the high and the oil makes it burn longer” Connor had a very regretful tone in his voice. But that didn’t explain what any of that substance was...

“What the fuck is bliss oil? And moonflower...sounds slightly familiar..” Angel said confused

“Don’t worry about it. Can you meet me near John’s ranch later?” Connor asked

“That asshole? Fat chance drug mule” Angel returned with a chuckle

“Ya know you should be nicer. And how do you remember him easily???” Connor huffed, malcontented

“This man has been harassing me the last four months ever since I moved here. I think at that point it’s safe to say he has a rememorable face....a punchable one too.” Angel sneered

“O-oh right....probably not a good place then huh...”

“Of c- didn’t you say that I had a record Connor?”

“Okay okay...I wasn’t thinking straight-“

“Obviously”

“Jesus Chr- DO YOU WANT TO MEET AT FALLS END THEN?!”

“That would be great love” Angel mocked

“Ain’t you a peach...you know...I’m starting to believe what John was saying about you.....hmm.” The radio clicked and went silent

“Oh I’m goin to nick his ears off...” Angel growled “Can finish a sentence but not a fight”

Angel got up after having a moment of planning to beat up Connor later and decided it might be better to head to Fall’s End...maybe after a nap of course.. he won’t have to worry about Connor till later.

Angel decided to head back into his room and throw himself on his bed “Oooh...” Angel breathed out “I have a feeling this is gonna be one fucking day.” Angel drawled out in exhaustion before closing his eyes shut.

"𝒜𝓃𝑔𝑒𝓁..."

Angel had a horrible gut wrenching feeling...that voice...that terrible fucking voice...

"𝒜𝓃𝑔𝑒𝓁...." the voice sang his name in a comforting tone...but that voice was never a comfort to him

He kept his eyes shut...but didn’t know how much longer he would have to for him to go away...it was impossible to ignore something that was so insisting and demanding...

"𝒲𝒶𝓀𝑒 𝓊𝓅...𝑀𝓎 𝓈 𝑜 𝓃."

He opened his eyes and saw red. Only red. The walls of his room. Red. The ceiling. Red. Where he slept. Red. The sky. Red. Everything was Red. He immediately felt sick but he couldn’t escape there was no escape. He sat up.

There.

There he was in the doorway. Blocking his only way out. The tall figure that loomed over Angel’s doorway. A Man that Angel could never fight, The Man that Angel fears the most more than anything...anyone in the world

𝓐𝓷𝓰𝓮𝓵𝓸 𝓢𝓪𝓷𝓬𝓱𝓮𝔃

Angel quickly looked around but realized he was stuck. He was backed into a wall. There was no way he would make it out alive.

"𝒯𝒽𝑒𝓇𝑒 𝒽𝑒 𝒾𝓈...𝑀𝓎 𝓈𝓌𝑒𝑒𝓉 𝓁𝒾𝓉𝓉𝓁𝑒 𝒷𝑜𝓎." The voice said tenderly moving closer to him

“D-don’t call me that....” Angel moved back to try to move himself away from the Man but there was no use of it. He started breathing heavy. With every step the Man took the more weight he felt on his chest. He started to spiral, every fighting instinct left his body. He felt like a rabbit being hunted by a Lion.

“𝒲𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝒶𝓇𝑒 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝑔𝑜𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓉𝑜 𝒹𝑜 𝒾𝒻 𝐼 𝒹𝑜?"

“help...h e l p.” He tried to call out but struggled to get the words out between breaths “somebody help me. get me out of here.”

The Man grabbed Angel’s face and tightened his grip, enough to leave bruises on the skin. All the fight left his body...he froze in horror having to force himself to look in his eyes. Tears started to stream down his face and he whimpered and tried to scream.

"𝒮𝒽𝒽𝒽𝒽...𝓆𝓊𝒾𝑒𝓉 𝓃𝑜𝓌..𝒴𝑜𝓊 𝒶𝓇𝑒 𝓌𝒾𝓉𝒽 𝓂𝑒" the Man stroked Angel’s face gently while shushing him like a puppy

“I don’t feel safe around you...I will never be safe or free in your hands....” Angel rasped out, nearly overworking his lungs for air “I will never call myself your son.”

The Man’s eye twitched but he cracked a smile "𝒜𝒽..." the man clicked his tongue before breathing in "𝒩𝑜..𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓉'𝓈 𝒻𝒶𝒾𝓇 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓉'𝓈 𝒻𝒶𝒾𝓇" he retreated slightly before taking both of his large hands and pressing them on Angel’s throat, tighting them and he watched Angel panick and try to push him away legging out a crooked laugh

Angel saw his vision fading and slowly going dark. He was trying to fight back but it was a losing battle to begin with. So, he gave up.

"𝒲𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝒶 𝓅𝒶𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓉𝒾𝒸 𝓁𝒾𝓉𝓉𝓁𝑒 𝓁𝒾𝑜𝓃"

Angel immediately woke up and started coughing and immediately felt something coming up his throat. He ran to the bathroom and flipped the toilet cover up and immediately started retching. Fluids poured out of his mouth that burned his nose and throat. And when he thought he was done more came back up. After finishing he was shaking and his head was pounding, tears were streaming down his cheeks and he still felt that weight in his chest. He looked into the toilet and...it was red. He flushed the toilet quickly as the color made him nauseous again not to mention he didn’t even have a chance to eat. It was nothing but bile. Angel sat back. He couldn’t even bring himself to try to speak to himself. So he sat on the floor, trembling....crying. The silence in the house was loud. He has to get out of here.

Angel quickly got up in a panic and washed his face and brushed his teeth, wanting to get that awful taste of bile off his tongue. After he packed his backpack with survival tools and some basic needs to help him out...there...I mean there was just more than one man chasing after him...

He wasted no time leaving after, wiping whatever tears were left on his face, God, he hated looking vulnerable I mean he was already enough..

“I’m never taking a fucking nap again...not until the exhaustion comes over me...”

Angel made the trek to Fall’s End. And though it wasn’t a long hike, it was quiet...almost too quiet.

“Hey-“

Angel reached for his hun and aimed at the sudden greeting

“Woah! Hey now! It’s just me Angel Mary May spoke softly

Angel lowered his weapon quickly in shock ‘I could’ve killed her for Christ sake’ he thought

“You okay love? You seem...different? On edge..?” she spoke with a tone that was almost a comforting as Missy, Bless her heart if she’s still out there

Angel tried to get the words out “....I......uhm...y-yea....kind of...just had a nightmare...no big deal...” he manage to put on a smile that could fool a careless man. But Mary saw right through it.

“Look I know you probably don’t wanna talk about whatever is going on with you bit don’t try to fool me with a smile m’kay” Mary scolded Angel a bit and started walking forward to Fall’s End

“Okay mom” Angel huffed out a laugh “Funny seeing you out here huh” Angel followed after her like a little duckling

“Funny seeing me out here? It’s noon Angel! Did you oversleep again?” Mary looked at Angel teasing him a bit

“Very funny. I was up earlier but was still tired from yesterday so I took a nap......unfortunately it didn’t work out in my...uhm....favor” Angel cleared his throat

“Well why don’t you tell me all about it?” Mary asked curiously

‘This is gonna be a common thing huh...’ Angel thought before breathing out “Where do I start?”

Tagging:

@mrspaigeomega @mrsladydiana @oorah22 @minilev @lilwritingraven @scungilliwoman

[goatpaste]

WC design/headcannon/ect masterlist- Part A

just a list of ALL my designs for headcanons, maybe some design updates, any other comments or AU ideas i have. on main characters and characters with no plot!

These are all the cats who name starts with ‘A’, posting these in alphabetical order to not overload just one list lol

all under the cut >:3

Acorn Fur

my Acorn Fur design changed slightly as she used to be more red saturated and i wanted her to not so much like my Red Claw Design

My biggest Headcanon for her is she absolutely didn’t listen to Moth Flight and ended up giving birth to two kit’s with Red claw as the father. they names are Rain Stone and Oak Stump 

Acornpaw

Acornpaw, ancient skyclan warrior

i like the idea of Acornpaw is a decedent of Acorn Fur and one of the last generations of her family that would remember her name

A warrior name i think would be nice for him is Acorndrop

Acorntail

Acorntail, ancient windclan deputy.

i can imagine he was named the way he was being smallest in his litter, losing his tail to a rabbit trap when he’s older

acorntail stick with being deputy for awhile but i can see either he even after training an apprentice can’t keep up with the duties and once again insist that Morningcloud is made deputy. oR acorntail becoming leader as Acornstar and morningcloud or her apprentice Quickpaw being made his deputy 

Adderkit

Adderkit, starclan kit who used to live in windclan and died by adder bite, named for it and was avanged by tallstar 

I imagine Adderkit was originally named Burrowkit born to Ashfoot and Deadfoot in their first litter with Eaglekit. Adderkit died on Windclans Journey to find a home after shadowclan chased them out.

Adderkit was very young when they died i picture their memory of their living life being EXTREMELY blurry, they know their windclan and they died by an adder. its why they renamed themself, and they barely remember who their mom and dad were.

Adderpaw

Adderpaw, ancient windclan apprentice who was around to the apprentice age limit code

Adderpaw was name for what a good few other ‘adder’ and snake named kits are named for, their tail wiggling around with its patterns look like that of a skinny snake.

Adderpaw Warrior name ideas, Addergrace or Addersnag

Algernon

not much to say beyond i think my design for him looks very funny lol

but my design for him is that he is leucistic

Applefrost

Applefrost, kid of appledusk and reedshine

Named after her piece of shit dad, and raised on one sided stories of him she loved her dad and wanted to be like him as she got older.

She was the first victim of Mapleshade’s hauntings, picking her because she was named after the man who hurt her family and she looks a bit like him. 

(applefrost isn’t normally greying on the bottom naturally, this is a side effect on spending so many years training one on one with mapleshade in the dark forest. My crookedstar design also has this) Applefrost knows the name mapleshade and was skeptic to talk to her at first, but opened up and tries to just take what advice she can get from the spirit. Even coming to sympathies with her through learning the truth of her father. 

Then one day Mapleshade stopped visiting her, thought Applefrost would never know what happened, there is a reason.

Applefrost was full grown, and so kind even in the face of the warrior who killed her father. And she looked so much like him, yes he ruined her life but maybe this was the price she payed for what she did, to forever feel pain over the lose of someone who didn’t love her. 

It was part that, and part..something about the way she looked at mapleshade, and something she said sent her memories flying back to her little petalkit who looked so much like her. 

Mapleshade would stop visiting applefrost and move on to another generation of their family. 

Applefrost would never tell her siblngs of mapleshade, but would come to disown her own father in starclan. even being friends with petalkit.

Applepaw

daughter of breezepelt and heathertail

mostly in here because i needed to up date her design

she hasn’t received her warrior name yet but should be close in the books

but a name like Applebite or Appleleaf

Ashfoot

Ashfoot,  windclan warrior, deputy and mother of crowfeather

i absOLUTLY love ashfoot

i picture her to be a very like ‘badass warrior mom’ she give tough love and you can’t help but totally admire her. She loves her son crowfeather, though if she is honest he tends to disappoint her with how he kinda doesn’t know how to behave

she gets followed around by herds of kits who want to be like her, and her past apprentice’s (which she has many of) call her sheriff (or mom, which is embarrassing but common and crow HATES it) 

Her and Deadfoot are VERY lovey dovey, she loves her sweet husband dearly and was distraught when he died. They were best friends growing up as apprentices together and were both name ‘foot’ in sign they always walked paw and paw, being well synced in battle and in life, they were just perfect for each other. so its easy to imagine when Deadfoot died it was like she lost half of herself

Ashfoot has a very long tail, just oh so slightly shorter than talltail, her family is known for their long tail (a trait passed down through being descended of windstar) Long tails are often called a symbol of power or royality in windclan. its very diserable and only tallstar’s tail was longer than hers. Her son crowfeather, and grandson jayfeather both take after thing ten fold with tails you could trip 10 cats with. breezepelt has a longer tail than average but no were near as long as theirs and it dOES kinda make him mad.

Ashfoot also loVES nightcloud, at first when crowfeather told his mom that nightcloud was having his kit’s she was super skeptical, not of nightcloud but of their relationship. she just saw right through it for what it really was. so she mostly didn’t talk to nightcloud for the two month’s she was pregnant, as to avoid getting involved.

but when Nightcloud gives birth and all of her kits but breezepelt die and she is DISTRAUGHT. Crowfeather isn’t helping and doesn’t seem to find any words that comfort her or not make her more upset, so like a big ol man child he turns to his mom and begs her to calm down nightcloud.

and its this moment that Ashfoot find’s herself completely bonded to Nightclouds side, looking at the dark she-cat crying over her lost kittens with her single son mewling for her. Ashfoot herself has had two litters both that only had one survivor, Eaglekit’s litter (eaglekit only made it to paw before he died) and now all she has is crowfeather. Ashfoot stay’s by the queens side and comforts her new daughter in law. 

Ashfoot and Nightcloud are close, even when her and crowfeather ultimately don’t work out. 

Ashfur

dont have much for him i guess

i hate him lol

i like him more than most other boy cats that i hate lol

he’s just a lil piss baby

iv updated his design a good bit, i thought his old design was really bleh but i havent been able to touch it up till now

i defiantly think him and brambleclaw shoulda been gay

i dont like him with squirrel, BUT if they’de been closer in age i think he and squirrel before ashfur became a fuckin crazy person they would have been better togeather than her and bramble that i don’t understand why she went back to bramble even if she didn’t get with ashfur

alsO i think the only ‘au’ i can like get into is like

Dustpelt mysteriously disappeared, presumed dead by thunderclan and never to be known what happened. Except between him and Ferncloud. id loVe a narrative of Ashfur kills dustpelt after watching the full grown warrior and mentor reefer to Ferncloud as beautiful, finding the behavior absolutely repulsive. Maybe ashfur ends up killing a few other cats who are like this and Ferncloud knows he killed dustpelt but maybe not the others. and it all ends up coming spilling out in the fire, this moment of the three and squirrel learn what he did but now he knows what they did, so their at a stale mate. but ashfur is becoming loser and more erratic in his behavior and hollyleaf kills him before he does something dangerous. 

[ladyshandioftheendless]

~KISS AU writings 51~

LAST PART BABIES!! This is gonna get SAD but I hope you all enjoy it!! Thanks for joining me on another crazy story ride! <3

~Shandi

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

~SIREN AU Part 9~

Summary: With the love of his life gone, Ace is caught in a perpetual downward spiral. Only a miracle can save him now.. (told from Ace’s POV)

WARNING: IF YOU ARE SENSITIVE TO THE SUBJECT OF SUICIDE PLEASE READ WITH DISCRETION!!

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

Tag list!: @smokeandmirrorz @slashscowboyboots @tanookikiss @misslivvie

I don’t want him to go. 

I wanna beg him not to. Plead with him to stay with me. 

I don't have any right to keep him from the sea though. That's his true home. Where he belongs. When he comes back inside I lock the cellar. I don’t wanna be drunk for our last night together. I cry and hold him tightly. Stroke his soft, fragrant hair. We kiss. We make love in the shower. We make love in my bed. My heart aches with the thought of losing him. I stay up all night and hold him while he sleeps, wishing the dawn wouldn't come.

But I can't stop the sun.

I wake up...and he's gone. There's only a note left on his pillow.

Ace~

I am sorry for leaving this way.

I do not have the strength to say goodbye.

Please know that I love you and I will never forget you.

Perhaps when the time is right we will see each other again.

Until then may my song remain in your heart.

Starfish

Under the note are sheets of music. Did he..write this for me..? Fuck. Fucking fuck. I clutch the papers against my chest and cry. All I can do is cry. He's really gone.

I've cut myself off from the outside. I haven't been in my studio in so long the equipment is collecting dust. Starfish was all the light..all the color in my world. Without him everything is dead and lifeless. I just drink. More than I ever have. When I black out at the very least I can still be with my Starfish in my dreams.

The alcohol doesn't last forever. I'm completely out in the span of only a few weeks. Fucking hell. I need more. Unfortunately for me I'm the only one who can get it. I'm sure as hell not gonna ask anyone else for help. So I grab my keys and head out.

It was a mistake.

It's dark and I can barely see where I'm going. I can't focus. There's a horn blaring. I'm blinded by bright headlights. I lose control. The rest is a blur.

~*~

The next time I wake up I'm in a bed..but it's definitely not my bed. Of course. I'm in the hospital. Because I drove straight into an oncoming car. I can't move, but there's pain. So much pain. How bad did I fuck myself up this time?

"So you're awake."

Is that..Petey's voice..? I can only move my eyes to look. Sure enough there he is sittin' beside my bed..and he looks pissed. Relieved too but mostly pissed. I can only manage a small noise.

"Don't try to talk. Your jaw's wired shut."

I widen my eyes. What?!

"Yeah that's right. Your jaw is one of the many things you broke during your little joyride. You fuckin' idiot. I've been tryin' to contact you for weeks..and the next thing I know, I'm hearin' about you in a head on collision on the news! What the hell were you thinkin' driving in such a fucked up state?! You're lucky you're not dead! Although you're probably gonna wish you were once they start forcin' you to detox. Get used to this view, Frehley. You're gonna be here for a while." I watch him pick up his jacket. "Relax I'm not dropping you. Visiting hours are over. I'll be back tomorrow."

He leaves me alone. Alone with my fucked up head. Physically and mentally. 

~*~

Recovery is far from a walk in the park. 

The pain is constant. If it isn’t my broken body it’s the withdrawal. Just to add insult to injury, it didn’t take long for my accident to become public. They say my career is over and that I should just retire with the tiny shreds of dignity I have left. I know Petey’s only being a friend by tryin’ to convince me they’re wrong, but are they? I mean..what could I possibly regain now? There’s no point in tryin’ to sugarcoat it. I have nothing left to live for..

After four grueling months I’m finally healed enough to go home. Petey has to plant false rumors about when I’m bein’ released so the reporters don’t descend on me like vultures. He’s still damn good at what he does. Still, it’s no happy homecoming. The house is just as empty as it was when I left it. I miss Starfish so damn much. I would’ve wanted nothin’ more than to see him here waiting for me. No such luck. As if the mock me, the sheet music Starfish left for me is right there on my kitchen counter. I just hold it against my chest and cry again. 

Another month passes. I fall off the wagon again.

Petey has the doorway to my wine cellar bricked up. It hard to think about stayin’ sober when there’s no reason to be. I look out at the sea and wonder where my Starfish might be. I can feel tears start to sting my eyes.  “I hate it so much here, Starfish..I wanna join you..” It would be wonderful to be like him. To not have a care in the world. To be part of the sea. Then I hear something. A soft sound far off in the distance. Is that..singing..? It has to be him. I’m sure of it! I turn over the sheet music and write a note to Petey. He’s been the only real friend I’ve ever had. I can’t leave him without an explanation. I tell him everything. Who ‘Paul’ really was. What happened at the last concert. Where I’m going. It won’t be easy for him to read but I’m sure he’ll understand in time. I’ve had it with this world. It’s time for me to go. 

~*~

It’s still difficult to walk but I’m not gonna let that stop me. I pull my patio door open and walk out onto the beach. As I move closer to the sea I can hear Starfish’s captivating voice. He’s calling to me. He wants me with him. I rid myself of my clothes and walk straight into the rising surf. The water is cold. It cuts into my skin like a million knives. I don’t care. I see him waiting. He’s smiling at me. He takes my hands and pulls me under the water with him. 

‘Starfish..my Starfish..’ I cling to him tightly, wrapping my legs around his tail. ‘I’ve missed you so much, baby.. I never wanna be without you again.’

“And I do not wish to be without you~” 

‘Wait..you can hear me..?’

“I hear your thoughts as clearly as my own~” 

‘T-then you heard...’

“I am sorry, my love. I could not return to you until I was ready. I have trained my power for this very moment.” 

The shell Starfish is wearing around his neck glows brightly, lighting up the ocean around us. It’s warm..and comforting. 

“My love..will you accept the gift I offer to you? Will you spend the rest of your days with me beneath the waves? Consider carefully. Once I do this, it cannot be undone. Any human friends you have..you will likely never see them again.” 

I already know what my answer is. ‘Wherever you are, Starfish..that’s where I wanna be.’

The shell glows brighter, enveloping me with its light. There’s no pain. There’s only warmth. I can feel myself changing. I watch claws extend from my now webbed fingers. Scales appear along my arms and across my chest. My teeth are now pointed fangs. As my new gills start to work I no longer feel the growing pressure in my lungs. I can breathe! I look down to see that I now have a shimmering blue tail..and it’s the most beautiful sight~

“There..it is done~” 

I look at him and smile. “Thank you, Starfish~ I shoulda known you’d never abandon me. I promise, baby..I’ll make it work this time. I’ll make myself better for you. I wanna be the man you deserve~” He just wraps his arms around me and holds me tightly. “My darling..you always have been~ I knew when I washed up on your shore that it could not have been a coincidence. It was fate~” 

“I believe it now~” 

We share a kiss and swim off into the depths together. My Starfish and me. Sirens of the deep. Lovers of music. Soul mates~

~END~

[shadowtarot]

CHM: Gonna bring in someone who could act as a Red Herring: Ryuji is walking home and ends up being approached by Sho Minazuki, now in his early 20s. Sho takes Ryuji to the side and "politely" (with a combat knife) asks to chat. He offers information about the Kirijo Group in exchange for info about the Thieves and their methods, just out of general curiosity. Should Ryuji agree, Sho spins his info in a way that makes Kirijo sound super evil, referencing his scar and his dead "dad", etc.

Chariot’s Mystery Part 11

Ryuji’s checking the chat log following a new message being posted on the site Futaba got contacted.

Everyone’s in a bigger tizzy now that this group wants to contact the Phantom Thieves. The chat turns into a voice call however as Zenkichi points out that constant text spam is getting too hard for he and Maruki to both keep up with. Putting in his earbuds, Ryuji mostly listens to the others talk as he walks home. Being in public, he can’t safely say anything regarding what’s going on. “They definitely have some smart players in their group if they’d link Alibaba to the Phantom Thieves solely based on modus operandi.” Makoto sighs. “But that leaves the biggest concern: is this group trustworthy enough to hold communication with?”

“It sounds too risky given what we know so far.” Zenkichi states. “We’d need a better understanding before we can even attempt to interrogate this group. I’m planning on heading to Iwaitodai soon, so save any big contact with these people until we have more than just Ryuji there.”

“Yeah, that sounds like the safest plan right now.” Ren nods, though it’s not like anyone can see that. “I can’t leave Inaba without arousing suspicion right now. Even if my record’s legally clear, people are more on guard with even the most simple action of buying bread in school. If I could feasibly send Mona I would...”

“If the situation calls for it, I can create some sort of excuse to pull you out of school.” Zenkichi explains. “But I’m hoping it doesn’t come to that...”

“Ryuji, how close are you to getting home?” Futaba moans in boredom. “You’re the only one over there and we NEEED updates!”  “Just a few more blocks I promise, I’m still not used to getting around here and-”  Something cold and flat touches the back of Ryuji’s neck. ...metal.  “Ryuji? Did something happen?” Maruki calls out. “You gotta learn how to turn down the volume on your earbuds, kid.” A voice states. “...come with me and don’t you DARE go the other way.” “Ryuji don’t comply, just run!” Zenkichi states. “What’s the description of the-” “Gramps...did you not hear what he said? I believe his ‘mugger’ heard our Phantom Thief talk.” Sophia explains.

“Shit.”

Ryuji silently complies with the red haired mugger. “What are you wanting...” He finally says as they reach the far end of a dead end alleyway. “Call it an Intel exchange. You want info on Kurijo yeah? Tch, I have more experience with those people than you’d ever want to have.” Now in better light, Ryuji can observe the x shaped scar on the guy’s face. “And what are you wanting in return then?” Ryuji looks the older man in the face. “I want to know how your group pulled off that...Change of Heart thing. I’m not gonna leak any of it, not like it’d do any of us any good right? People who don’t have Persona would think we’re nuts.” The rest of the team is hearing that convo, and is messaging via text to avoid being heard.

“Your buddies went silent, huh?” The man leans forward to him. “Shoulda been like that from the start.”

“...” Ryuji silently waits instructions. He can’t just trust some random crazy with a knife with knowledge of Persona to not leak their operations to the people they’re researching. “I might change my mind about not speaking a damn word about this if you don’t cough up the info now.” He’s getting less calm as Ryuji continues to not give a reply. “...we don’t have much of a choice in the matter Ryuji.” Morgana finally says. “Explain what you can.”

“Get his name first though.” Ren adds.

“Give me your name, I’ll give you what you want then.” Ryuji glares. “A tough guy eh? Well I’d say that if you weren’t just buying time waiting for orders like a helpless runt. But fine, names Sho but that’s all you’re getting until you cough up the details.” Sho leans up against a brick wall, arms folded. “...we alter the behavior of someone’s shadow buy stealing the desire that corrupts them, the heart of the issue.” Ryuji explains.

“Come on, that sounds like you’re simplifying it. I’ve seen no way to steal ‘desires’ by those means with the Shadows I’ve fought and observed.” Sho shakes his head.

“The method we use to access that world isn’t accessible anymore. So I can’t explain it in better detail without showing it.” Ryuji retorts. “Ugh...fair enough. Well here’s my end of the deal then.”  Everyone listening in on the convo pays close attention to possible intel being shared. “Kirijo’s done all sorts of experiments on people in terms of getting them to awaken to Persona pre-maturely. I was a victim of those experiments, and the only human still around to tell the story properly. Forced experiments using Plumes of Dusk, creating combat robots with Persona capabilities. ...a lot of people died that had those plumes shoved in their bodies or were pushed through such hardship just to get them to come,” Sho looks at Ryuji, who’s now visibly shaken by these details. “I was ‘Adopted’, only to be experimented on..denied a lot of the basic human rights and abused. The damn thing gave me a split personality, and only one half had access to my Persona. I was trained to kill... and they’re still using those Persona-using Machines. Two are still active.. between that, and the fact that Persona forced out by the group had a tendency to go out of control and kill people...the company has a lot of skeletons in their closet. figuratively and literally.” Sho stands up strait from where he’s leaning. “...the Government has them in their pockets. Yet they don’t fully know what they’ve caused in the past...or will keep causing in the future.”

He walks off...leaving Ryuji to stand there alone with his thoughts. “Human experimentation...they’re no better than Madice...” Haru sighs. “Joker...what’s our move?” Sophia asks. “We make that contact with the group. Not for a friendly interview, but as a letter of challenge.” Ren states. “Futaba, can you try to hack Kirijo’s security and force a live broadcast of us to communicate just within that building?” “Give me a bit to get everything set up. But it’s one hundo percent doable!” Futaba snickers.

[mercurryblack]

Chapter 8: Rosario

A certain Garland girl spends a peaceful evening with LLAC’s leader.

❃❃❃

“You’re late, chica.”

Rosario Garland had never been the kind of girl to make others wait. She may not have been perfect, but she prided herself on making sure that she was at least fifteen minutes early when she was meeting with anyone, regardless of the importance of their meeting.

The girl was patient if nothing else, and that trait had proved itself invaluable when she started dating Lillian, who was also an early bird. It had come to the point where it had become a friendly competition— whoever was the last to arrive would pick up a check, and vice versa.

Not that it really mattered, however— she couldn’t recall the last time she had lost to Lillian.

“Of course you’re here already. Why is it that you always come first?” Lillian said, greeted her girlfriend with a side hug and a kiss on the cheek.

“Would you prefer it if I came last?” grinned Rosario, nuzzling up to her.

Lillian shrugged. “You know, sometimes I wouldn’t mind if— wait.”

Rosario’s grin widened. “Heh. Gotcha again, Lilly.”

“Okay, I set myself up for that one.” Lillian sighed, her cheeks turning pink as she understood the entendre. Pretending that she wasn’t caught off guard, she coughed loudly and continued. “So, what have you been up to these past few days, Rosa?”

Rosario let out a long breath as she answered. “Ohhhhh, y’know, the usual. I’ve been helping my parents with th’ Dulcinea in my downtime, and making sure Sirocco and Socorro stay out of my room. School’s been drop-dead boring, though. Pbbbllltt.” She blew a noisy raspberry. “I shoulda become a Huntress like Dad used to be.” 

Lillian nodded, as the two started to walk. “It’s got its ups and downs. How’s the restaurant doing, anyhow?”

“Pretty well. We got flatscreens installed, so with the Festival upcoming, it’s reached the point where we don’t have to eat leftovers from the day’s menu any longer.” Rosario rolled her eyes. “I know it’s saving Lien, but papa’s got a butt-load of dosh saved up from old contracts. You think he’d be less of a tightwad.”

“Eh, it’s practical. Huntsman mindset and all that.” Lillian shrugged. After a moment, she smirked and gently elbowed Rosario. “Maybe your folks should’ve invested in a McGarland’s franchise instead.”

“You’re kidding, right?” Rosario scoffed, shaking her head. Her brown hair swayed across her shoulders. “Y’know, I asked mamá about doing that a while back, and she said that— word for word— ‘she’d sooner shove her head in a boiling fry vat than ever involve herself with her shit-eating malaka of an idiot brother ever again.’”

Lillian nodded, humming pensively. “This ‘idiot brother’… the same one who tried to take her as his wife? Helios something-or-other?” She asked.

“Apollo, actually, and yeah.” Rosario replied. “I never actually met the guy, don’t really want to. All I know ‘bout it’s that papá found out and beat him up in some ritual fight, and won the right to marry mamá, and they eloped to Mistral City and lived happily ever after, blah blah blah. Just the same story they tell me on every single anniversary of theirs.”

“You swamp clans are a laugh a minute, aren’t you?” Lillian remarked dryly.

“Tell me about it. I’ll take the Dulcinea over being sent away to Laurelboros anyday.”

“If I get another break, I’ll try and pay you a visit over at your place. Who knows what my feminine charms could bring, hm?” Lillian half-jokingly suggested.

Rosario laughed. “Yeah, that’d be a hoot— see how many poor schmucks try and hit on the biggest lesbian in all of Mistral.” She said. “But enough about me, Lilly— what about you? Anything new in your life, my dear Huntress?” She asked, leaning her head sideways and curiously raising an eyebrow.

“It’s been… stressful. You heard about the whole SYBR case in the news, right?”

Rosario nodded. Days prior, the news of the two members’ deaths had flooded the news outlets. While the details of the case still remained confidential, the media hadn’t shied away from the gruesome way in which the murders had taken place. “Yeah, Dad was pretty shaken up about it. He used to be pretty close with Yaara and Berilo— well, all of them, really. They were in the same year, I think.” She bit her lower lip. “What about it?”

Lillian sighed. “Well, we’ve been assigned to help out with it.”

“Yeesh. How’s that going?” asked Rosario, wincing in surprise.

“Right now, the whole thing is shitty. It was done neatly, whoever did it made sure they weren’t leaving any clues.” Lillian pinched the bridge of her nose in frustration.

“Ugh, we haven’t made any progress since the initial investigation. I feel like dead weight.”

Rosario affirmingly placed a hand on her girlfriend’s shoulder, giving it a gentle rub. “Hey, hey, don’t beat yourself up over it. I’m sure you and your compadres will find out who did it. Who knows? Maybe you just haven’t looked in the right place yet.”

Lillian turned to the Garland girl, her eyes half-lidded and her expression unamused. “Really. Not the right place. In the exact place where they were murdered, Rosario?”

“ … Okay, not my best moment of reassurance, but you know what I mean.” The Garland girl winced.

Lillian rolled her eyes. “Sure I do, cabeza hueca.”

Rosario glowered. “I may be stupid—”

“Yes.” Lillian cut her off, visibly holding back a laugh.

“This is you getting back at me for that “came last” bit, isn’t it?”

“Also yes.”

***

After twenty minutes’ worth of a pleasant stroll, the pair finally made it to the upper cliffs near the base of Haven Academy. It was mainly a residential area, but just behind the pagoda-style houses was a cozy picnic spot overlooking the mountain’s majestic waterfall. Only a select few were in the know, yet it was a popular dating spot among those few.

So it was just as well that they were here now, in the evening when nobody was about to interrupt them.

Lillian had thought it would be a good idea to bring Rosario to a place that wasn’t a restaurant. The Garland girl had more or less grown up in one, so a change of scenery was best for both of them. Undoing a backpack that Rosario had handed off to her earlier on, she tossed a blanket to Rosario, who spread it out on the grass while Lillian undid the cloth surrounding their meal’s basket.

The couple ate their food— a pair of bocata-style sandwiches the Garland had made herself— as they overlooked the city. It made each of them drift away from the issues in their minds; doubts, worries, and problems fading to the back as they took in the serene moment.

Naturally, Rosario figured it was a bit quiet.

“Uh…” She began, attempting to come up with an appropriate point for conversation. “So, Lilly, how’s your training going? The Vytal Festival’s coming up in a couple’a weeks after all, right?”

Lillian coughed on her bite of food. “Oh, yeah, right. Vytal.” She had almost forgotten about LLAC’s prior plans for the festival. For a second, it seemed like only yesterday that she and her team had been drilling for their matches.

“My cousin Robin— she’s in her second year, I think you’ve met— she’s popped around the shop once or twice while you were there. She’s entered her team already, says they really have a shot at the championship.” Rosario continued. “You could probably kick her butt, though.”

Lillian nodded. “I’ve run into her a couple of times. Her teammate… Kogane or something? She went and bought a couple of new Mistrali-styled uniforms for me and Am when we first arrived in Haven, after bawling us out for wearing what she called ‘unfashionable’ Atlesian outfits.” She huffed disparagingly. “Yeah, as if her three-inch heels are any kind of improvement over a tac suit, but whatever.”

She paused, taking a bite out of her sandwich. “Oh, and just so you know, I could kick your cousin’s butt. No sweat. But I doubt it’d happen anyways.”

“Whff’a maffr? Iff’ere—mllpp— s’there a problem?” Rosario asked, swallowing a particularly large bite as she turned to Lillian.

“No… it’s just that I think it’ll be much better for LLAC to not participate in the festival altogether. We promised to help Detective Yuen with solving the SYBR case.” She pursed her lips. “So I think it’s safe to say that we’re not going to be fighting anytime soon.”

Rosario threw her arms up, stunned. “Not going to fight? Are you shitting me? I’ve seen you guys throw down in exhibitions, remember— between that goth’s agility, your sister’s durability, the hat kid’s unpredictability, and your strength, you’re totally fit to win it! You’re one of the best fighters I know, amiguita, no way are they gonna keep you from the Festival!”

Lillian rolled her eyes. “Well, be that as it may, it still won’t change the fact that we’re busy with the murder investigation, and this year’s festival is being hosted in Vale. It’s too far away, no way are we going to get a pass from Detective Yuen to compete.” She replied.

“Man.” Rosario muttered, shaking her head. “That just ain’t right. You talked to the rest of the team about this yet?”

“Not yet, no, but I figured I’d tell them tomorrow. If they agree with me, I’ll talk to Professor Lionheart about withdrawing from the tournament.” She scratched the back of her neck. “And if they don’t… well, I’ll figure something out. But that’s not important right this minute.”

However, the nagging thought of how her teammates might not agree to her proposition stayed in the back of Lillian’s mind. Either way, she was stuck between a rock and a hard place.

Seeing the girl’s troubled expression, Rosario leaned in to rest against the crook of Lillian’s neck. “Okay, I get it. Enough serious talk.” She said, before turning her attention again to the view from the mountaintop.

“I never realized how pretty it is when you get just a little higher up.” 

She lived in the area just underneath the cliffs, and had little business anywhere higher, so she’d never paid much consideration to coming to the summit before. Now that she did, she was slightly awestruck by how small Mistral City looked from up on high.

“It’s even prettier when you see it all the way up, right from the academy grounds.” Lillian said, her voice calm.

“Lucky. Means you get to take it in all the time.”

“Well, after a few years there, you’ll get tired of the view and much rather be down in the city proper.” Lillian shifted her shoulder. “But do you want to know about the one view I’ll never get tired of?”

“Sure. Where’s that?” Rosario asked, looking up to face her.

“Here,” Lillian gently placed her hand atop Rosario’s own and stared at the city below them, before turning her gaze to her girlfriend. “Right beside you, Rosa.”

After a moment’s pause, Rosario pulled her beanie down and averted her gaze, trying to hide her suddenly flushed face. It was usually her who threw around corny romantic remarks and double entendres, but when Lillian said something to make her blush…

Well, she could dish it out, but she wasn’t very good at taking it.

“You have the prettiest eyes I’ve ever seen, you know that?” Lillian said, giving the Garland girl’s cheek a soft brush as she gazed into Rosario’s turquoise orbs.

“Yeah, and you have the cheesiest compliments.” Rosario replied, still blushing. “But thanks, I like yours too. They’re, uh…” She trailed off, too distracted by Lillian’s eye contact.

They lapsed back into silence, looking over the cityscape dotted by lights under a darkening evening sky.

“…Time like this, kinda makes you wish this moment could last forever, doesn’t it?” Rosario asked offhandedly.

“You mean, this moment with your hand on my abs?”

Rosario tilted her head downwards, and noticed that her left hand had indeed found its way onto Lillian’s stomach.

“...You mind?” She asked in a faux innocent tone, glancing back up.

“Hmf,” Lillian smiled, wrapping an arm around Rosario’s shoulder. “Not even a bit.”

Rosario grinned, slowly closing her eyes as she melted into the embrace. “Then, yeah… this is a moment I could live with.”

[soundwavereporting]

fic for @doorwingdings for the @transform-or-treat Halloween fic exchange! She requested Jazz/Prowl ala Pet Semetary. Hope I did the concept justice. This is vaguely IDW-flavored. cw for grief/mourning, alongside vague references to pretty much anything you’d expect from Pet Semetary.

“Y’know, I’d always thought of myself as level headed. Reasonable. Willin’ to do what needed to be done, say the right words to the right people, set your processor to it, and it’ll get done. I swore I’d never be one of those mechs who loses it after their sparkmate passes. That wasn’t me.

Taking him to the Acid Wastes was a mistake.”

It was not a legend, or even a myth. Jazz would have had to struggle to call it a rumor outside of the place it originated: a small town on the outskirts of Carpressa, straddling the border between a true city and the desolation of the Acid Wastes. The way the story went, the smelting pit was a relic from the Golden Age, built over a tunnel leading to the Afterspark itself. This tunnel, lined with veins of Primus’s own innermost energon, was the conduit to guide a mech to his final resting place.

Or to bring him back to the living world.

Its original name had been lost to time: there was no way the Primes and Senators would ever have deigned to have their bodies lain to rest in a ‘smelting pit’. But it was a smelting pit, cold and lifeless as the gunmetal gray forms that had been buried there.

Through the haze of rage and grief, Jazz had reasoned that even if this didn’t work, if the smelting pit was just a figment of a mech’s overactive imagination, it wouldn’t do any harm. Prowl had held little sentiment or attachment to his frame: he, Jazz thought, would have done the same thing were he in Jazz’s place.

If there was a chance: even the slightest chance, that leaving a mech’s dead frame in the cold smelting pit would bring him back? Would bring Prowl back?

Jazz would take it.

“Here’s the secret: this whole thing, start to finish? A mistake. We never shoulda pressed our luck.

“I think Sentinel knows. He signed off on ‘Prowl’s’ request for an extended leave of absence way too fast.”

Jazz had also reasoned that if it didn’t work (which it would, it had to), this would simply be an unspoken incident he would shove into long-term storage immediately. He would take Prowl’s frame back to Iacon, let Sentinel or the stylus-pushers handle the details of the funeral. Jazz would fight for Prowl to be smelted in Iacon, not Petrex. And that would be that. He would wallow in his grief for a half-million years and come out of it smiling. And if the smile was a little tinged with insincerity, or his gaze seemed distant, well.

The last thing Jazz had reasoned was that it just wasn’t fair. If Prowl had to go out before his time, it should have been helping someone. The mech had a habit of sticking his nose into places it didn’t belong, and Jazz loved him for it. He had been investigating a mech named Render for selling contaminated energon cubes. If Render or one of his mechs had shot Prowl? Jazz would’ve been competing with Sentinel and a good chunk of his Security Services to get first shot at the mech’s spark chamber.

But an accident left no one to blame.

Not entirely true: Jazz could blame the mech operating the transport. He was a minibot named Greenspark, overworked and undertrained, barely tall enough to see the controls on the vehicle he was required to operate, nonstop, five cycles at a time. He could blame the company that had ‘employed’ Greenspark, who had recruited him from an employment agency that was shadier than a clearance sale in Kaon.

Shaking his fist at the world wouldn’t do anything.

So Jazz took Prowl’s lifeless frame to the cold smelter.

He bribed a mech with six hundred shanix to take him—them—there.

In hindsight, Jazz was certain he could have found it himself: it looked nothing like the nondescript smelters scattered around Kaon or Iacon. This place was massive, a testament to the opulence of the Primes and the mecha they favored. More crypt than smelter, Jazz privately thought, and had things been different, he and Prowl would have enjoyed spending a few days exploring the place.

It was a shared hobby of theirs, one they never had as much time to indulge in as either would have liked. Both enjoyed architecture and history, things that Cybertron had in excess. It was not an unpopular pastime among Cybertronians but prior to his grief-fueled research, Jazz had never even heard a whisper of this place.

As he lay Prowl’s cold, gray form on the ornately engraved platform, he wondered if Prowl had known. Had Prowl known, and kept it a secret? Had Prowl known what Jazz might do of the situation came to it?

No. Prowl wouldn’t do anything like that. Prowl—his Prowl, vibrant and alive, with shining blue optics that caught Jazz’s attention the minute he walked in the door of Kaon Security Services—would trust Jazz’s intuition. Because that had always been them, hadn’t it? Prowl’s logic, Jazz’s intuition. Two sides of a chic-chip, blurring into sameness when Prowl’s leaps of logic came out looking like a hunch or Jazz’s explanations same out looking like a intellectual-class mech’s thesis on statistics and probabilities.

Before meeting Prowl, Jazz had been certain he was complete. He still was his own mech—Prowl hadn’t changed that. But Prowl had come into his life and added something to it: a dash of comforting stability amidst the chaos of a mech trying to maintain a semblance of normalcy in post-Functionist Cybertron.

Now, Jazz was adrift, unmoored. Anchored only by the thin ray of hope that this cold smelter in the Acid Wastes might bring Prowl back.

His quick examination of the place had revealed no trace of corpses, which left two options: mechs came and took the gray frames away after it didn’t work. Or…

Jazz couldn’t bring himself to remain inside. He camped outside the cold smelting pit, optical visor trained on the entrance as he scanned for life signs.

As these things happened, he slipped into recharge.

Jazz awoke to see a mech standing in the grand entrance to the cold smelting pit. His optics registered it as Prowl: his Prowl, standing tall and proud. His frame still bore the damage of the injury; the plating on his torso was warped and dented, but he could see the hint of a spark shining in the early morning light.

“Jazz.”

Prowl’s voice was as flat as ever. Upon closer examination, Prowl’s armor was still desaturated; the brilliant red of his chevron was a muddy shade of rust.

He hadn’t realized he had leapt to his feet, closing the distance between them.

Prowl’s frame was cold to the touch.

Jazz didn’t care.

On the sixth cycle, he commed Sky-Byte.

They met in a Stanzian café. It wasn’t often Jazz visited; he preferred the real thing on his rare trips back to his home city, but today he needed a taste of normalcy.

He tried not to think of the way Render’s innermost energon had tasted on his lips.

“It’s about Prowl,” Sky-Byte said, without preamble.

Before Jazz could reply, Sky-Byte spoke:

“Grief-stricken ending before lonely spark flies beyond the carbon”

“Hell’s that supposed to mean?” Jazz asked, immediately grateful for the distraction.

Sky-Byte’s optics narrowed.

“It means you are in mourning.”

An hour later, Jazz returned home from the café with more questions than answers, accompanied by a slowly-growing sense of dread he couldn’t put a finger on. Prowl was still in the habsuite, secured behind the best locks shanix could buy. Jazz couldn’t find it in himself to muster up the energy to even pretend to be happy to see the thing that was inhabiting his conjunx’s frame.

Jazz headed into the spare room that had quickly been converted into a second bedroom. After a moment’s consideration, he locked the door behind him. He had spent half a day attempting to soundproof the rest of the habsuite to muffle the sound of the shuffling footsteps as he incessantly paced the rooms, before realizing the absence of sound was worse than the sound itself.

“I don’t need to go over all of it again. You know what happened. How I fed him.

“They were—are—bad mechs. Ones who others whisper about when they think no one’s listening. This latest one, Render? Made his fortune selling empty cubes wholesale to th’ Dead End’s energon distribution center, a hundred cubes a shanix. No need to waste money on mechs who can’t be bothered to take care of themselves. What he didn’t tell the center is the cube quality isn’t fit for a turbolouse, much less a mech.

“Or maybe he did, and they didn’t care.

“The number of bad mechs on this planet ain’t infinite.

“If you’re seeing this, ‘Byte—one of two things happened. No matter what, I need you to call Sentinel and get a security team up to my habsuite. The number and my auth codes are at the end of this message.

“I’m not tryin’ to get myself killed. I’ll take him down and be out of the habsuite before security shows up, or I won’t.

“Either way, I won’t be around. I’ll head to Staniz. Maybe Kalis. Anywhere but here.

“Take care, Sky-Byte.”

[theimpossibleg1rl]

The Perfect Weapon | Two.

Bucky Barnes x OFC Frankie Chambers

Warnings: angst, language, mentions of violence, blood and death

Frankie ached all over.

Scared out of her mind, so afraid they were coming for her. Crying, curled up into a ball on the sofa. She needed her soldier. She ached for him. It was like she forgot how to breathe. Then the door flew open. The dark haired man took her in. Tiny thing, fragile. She looked broken. He couldn’t hurt her.

“Hey,” he said softly, kneeling down beside her. He looked over her, making sure she wasn’t injured. The arrows in the quiver on his back made her bristle. “It’s okay,” he assured, “I won’t hurt you. I promise. What’s your name?” She looked up at him, green eyes wide with fear. “Воробей,” she answered softly and his brow furrowed. “Sorry,” he shrugged, “never could get a hang of Russian, but I know it when I hear it.”

“Sparrow,” she told him, and he nodded with a smile.

“Sparrow. I’m Clint.”

Tears streamed down her cheeks as she gripped his shirt. “Если они меня найдут, они меня убьют.” (If they find me, they’ll kill me.) He shook his head. Damn, he shoulda listened to Natasha. He knew she’d give him hell for this. “Where did you come from? Do you know?” She nodded weakly. “Hydra.” That he knew. But what did that mean? Was she dangerous, too? Or would Fury accept another stray Russian?

“Soldat?,” she asked, practically begging. “Need him.” His heart broke at her tone. It was shattered. Lost. Like someone she loved. “I’m sorry, Sparrow,” he told her, “I don’t know your Soldat.”

****

SHIELD had been good to her. Took her in, deprogrammed her. Trained her up their way. Years of it, becoming something new, something better. Something normal, almost. She was paired with Clint often. She barely trusted anyone else. Especially in the beginning. It was quite the shock, people treating her with kindness and care.

She’d been there when they brought in the Captain. The buzz around the place was infectious. Everyone wanted a glimpse.

When Loki attacked New York, Fury had tried to recruit her to the Avengers Initiative, but she’d refused. She liked her position and had no desire to be a superhero. She didn’t feel like she’d earned that. Clint being mind controlled nearly changed her mind. But she feared it. She was no hero.

Fury had come again when Ultron made an appearance. But again, she’d said no. It didn’t appeal to her. She didn’t feel like she compared to others, even if they’d disagreed. They all felt like she’d be a good addition. She was skilled, strong. Capable. But Frankie didn’t see it that way.

There wasn’t a shift until DC. That’s when everything changed.

****

Hydra. Again.

Hidden in their ranks. It was the ultimate blow. Frankie was devastated. She ran only to end up back in their arms. She wasn’t sure who she could trust anymore. Pierce had always been a little skeptical of her, even threatening to send her to the Raft at one point, but it was a shock nonetheless.

So with a heavy heart, she left SHIELD behind.

****

She sat at Steve’s bedside. How many times had he done it for her? Too damn many. He was broken, bruised. Worse off than she’d ever seen this. The Winter Soldier That was a name she knew. But there were quite a few of them, it didn’t mean anything. The likelihood that it was her soldier was small. She couldn’t cling to hope.

Not anymore.

They’d probably killed him anyway for setting her free. She’d expected that. Grieved like she needed to. Said her peace. Steve’s eyes fluttered open and he turned his head, giving her a weak smile. “Sparrow.” “Old man.” He tried to chuckle but it hurt too damn bad. “Don’t overdo yourself, Rogers. You’re lucky to be alive. Suppose the Soldier did that?”

Steve nodded, but fuck, the memory hurt more than the pain. “He…he was breaking through.” His voice was rough, weak. Frankie tilted her head. “Like his programming?,” she asked and he nodded. “He... was fighting himself as much as he was fighting me.”

God, she knew that feeling. And if Hydra got their hands on him, he was as good as dead. You didn’t fail a mission. Especially one this big.

“He said I was his mission,” he told her, and she didn’t miss the hurt in his eyes. “What aren’t you telling me, Steve?” He shook his head. “It’s Bucky.” She shook her head, that couldn’t be right. “Barnes? Like your Bucky Barnes?,” she asked and he nodded. She knew a bit, Steve had told her. “Like fell off a train, Bucky Barnes? He’s Hydra? He’s the Asset?”

Steve nodded again. It fucking hurt to think about it. “He knew me, Franks. He knew me, but he couldn’t stop killing me. He had to finish.” She nodded, she knew that, too. “A mission is a mission with Hydra. You don’t just fail a mission. If you do…” she trailed off, shuddering at the thought. “What? What happens?”

“They kill you, Steve.”

****

“I can’t do this.”

She looked up at Ross, who had a disapproving scowl on his face. Tony sat across from her, rubbing his face with his hand. “I mean it, Ross. I can’t agree to any of this.” He huffed, nostrils flared. “You don’t have much of a choice, Chambers.” Her expression matched his. “Bullshit. You’re trying to enforce something you shouldn’t enforce, Thaddeus! This,” she pointed at the Accords, “is garbage. You wanna regulate people like Wanda. Like me,” she shook her head. She knew, she understood.

“You’re still dangerous.”

There it was.

She knew that. She’d never doubted it. She knew she was a ticking time bomb. She knew she could blow over at any moment. She’d made that mistake once with SHIELD. Fury, Coulson and Clint had gone to bat for her, but the video footage didn’t lie, did it? Pierce wanted her cut loose. Ross wanted her locked up and restrained.

Fury ultimately won out, but was forced to bench her for nearly a year, resigned to desk duty. But she never forgot that fateful meeting. How they’d gone back and forth over her and her mental state. She could never quite shake it, even now. She knew what she was. Why her parents had so willingly given her away. She couldn’t be handled. They hadn’t had the patience and they feared their own child.

“What happens if I don’t sign this?,” she asked softly, looking up at Tony. “You go to the Raft,” Ross said from behind her. She closed her eyes and took a breath. “There’s gotta be another option,” Tony told him, but he refused to back down. “She’s a National threat, Stark. Have you seen the video?”

He had. Everyone had. Fury wanted them to know the truth, what she’d kept hidden.

“This is ridiculous,” Steve announced from the door, and her head whipped around, his eyes burning a hole into Ross. “She’s not a threat to anyone and you know it. And yes, I’ve seen the video before you ask. I know Frankie. She’s saved my ass a few times. Took a bullet for me. She wouldn’t hurt anyone that didn’t have it coming.”

But Frankie already knew what she had to do.

“Chambers? Just sign,” Tony pleaded and she turned in her chair to look at him. “You know I can’t. You know this isn’t right, Stark. You know it isn’t. You can’t think this is a good idea!” He snorted, shaking his head. “Like a defiant child,” he groaned and her hand slammed down on the table, making him jump.

“You’d rather they control us?,” she pointed at Ross. “You’re Tony Fucking Stark! When was the last time you did anything anyone told you to do?! When was the last time you listened to anyone but yourself? This is utter, complete bullshit and you know it!” She was hot, hands shaking. Not now. Don’t let it win. You’ll only prove his point.

“If you walk out,” Ross warned, “you’ll have to look over your shoulder for the rest of your life, Mary.”

She stood and moved past Steve, giving him a meaningful look, one she was sure he’d understand. Her gaze went to Tony and then to Ross. A hard stare, fiery. Dark, filled with something he couldn’t quite pinpoint. Hatred, maybe? Threatening for sure. Like she’d make him pay for it.

“I already do.”

[lunnamars]

Hello! I heard you wanted prompts ~~ "winter" with Ichiruki please?

Oh hello! So, although IchiRuki is my otp and forever will be, it's been a while I haven't actually read anything about them and there's the fact I have never written anything related to mah pretty babies. Actually, it turned out a little bigger than I expected, but well, I hope you like it! :) 

Ah, a quick reminder that English is not my first language, so forgive me for my mistakes. 

The cold had never been a problem to Kuchiki Rukia, which meant that the winter would never freeze her. After all, she's cold and snow herself. But the loneliness and the melancholy of that particular season had always affected her.

And there was something about the winter of those 17 months she spent locked in Sereitei and away from Karakura Town that had left her frozen inside. And even after all was said and done, when Ywach was gone and he and the others had gone back to his mundane life, she still felt kind of cold.

It has been a year she hasn’t seen him. And it was really fucking cold.

Rukia doesn’t know actually why she had not followed him through the Senkaimon to his world and why she still prevents herself from going to visit him and his family. Karin and Yuzu must be bigger now and way smarter than their thickheaded brother. Their father probably is still the same and she hoped he was, Rukia has always been very fond of him.

He probably was in his first year of college and she is happy for him. Rukia just wanted to tell him herself.

And when the snow is falling and the winds of winter are freezing her bones, she longed to talk to him. She really wanted to hear his voice, he's her best friend, for fuck's sake! Her partner in crime, her ride or die, the one who could actually make this cold go away. 

Rukia knows she had decided to stay, it was not his fault. She decided to stay because her life was actually there, in Seireitei and he deserved a normal life — that's what Rukia has always believed and he knows that. So she stayed behind and started to train harder than before so she could become the next Captain of the 13th Division. In all honesty, she did want to continue the legacy of Ukitake and Kaien, Rukia wanted to guide those people under her command. 

But she also wanted to be with him. 

Why the hell didn't she follow him? Why the hell didn't he ask her to go with him? Why the goddamn fuck did she tell him he should go, so he could still have the life he should have, and that she should stay?

Those 17 months were one of the hardest, with summer or winter. 

She heard from Renji that Inoue finally got to go out on a date with him and that did not sit well with Rukia. It left a bitter taste in her mouth, but she was somewhat happy for her friend.

But did he enjoy it? How did he feel? What was he thinking? She really wanted to know, like the old times. Maybe he wouldn’t tell her, but Rukia knew that just a look into his eyes would tell her everything. That's how they are. And she's pretty sure that if he walked through the doors of the Kuchiki mansion (in this goddamn cold) right now, she would still know him. Like, really know him.

Rukia had no words for the hell they were — just friends, best friends? Lovers? Something that transcends the ordinary idea of lovers? Soulmates?

She did not care. She just wanted to see him, give him a quick hug and then kick him, hear his voice, tell him that it doesn’t matter who he was hooking up with, she'd always be by his side because Rukia had lived a long and lonely life after death and he was the one who changed everything. 

The only thing she was sure it was that there have always had some unmistakable glint in her eyes when she looked at him and Rukia is a closed person, but he would forever break through her walls, baring her soul.

It was fucking cold, the winter was unforgiving this year and she missed him. 

To hell this idiocy of mine, stop being a goddamn coward, Rukia.

"Byakuya-ni-sama, I'll be off for two or three days, but don't need to worry about me", Rukia walks into her brother's office and says, absentminded while reading some reports. She has made her decision, but Kuchiki Rukia does not neglect work.

"I don't think that will be necessary, Rukia", comes the deep voice of her brother.

"What— why—"

And she stops midsentence and dead on her tracks. Her eyes widen and her heart actually skips a lot of beats.

"Ichigo."

"Yo, midget",  he smirks and suddenly, Rukia could not hear the wild winds of winter.

"Well, as I'm sure I'm not needed here, I'll let you both talk in private", Byakuya says with his usual stern demeanor.

Rukia is speechless (and for the record, she is never speechless) and barely pays attention to her brother's departure. He's here. Why are you here?

"Because I was a dumbass a year ago", he mumbles with his everyday frown. She had missed that too. But the fact he basically had read her mind didn’t go unnoticed by her. "I shoulda stayed with you."

She blinks and swallows hard. Rukia wanted to hear that so badly a year go. Heck, she still wanted to hear that, but her instinct to protect him always kicks in and always will if they ever meet again in another life. "No, you shouldn’t have. Ywach's words were not meant to be taken lightly, you moron."

Is it weird that she missed calling him a moron?

"You're unbelievable. I don’t see your sorry ass in a whole fucking year and the first thing you call me is moron?", he was fuming and she sneered.

"Haa… did you expect me to jump right to your skinny arms?", she raised an eyebrow, mocking him all the while.

"Hey!! My arms are not skinny anymore!", he poked her head really hard.

And then Rukia kicked him. Just like she wanted. But Ichigo was Ichigo and he didn’t even let her savor the moment, their moments of the good old days — he grabbed her wrist and pulled her closer. It was so easy for him to tower over her, especially when he catches her off guard, both things never ceased to make her feel somewhat fragile and protected at the same time. It made no sense in her head. 

Then he muttered, “I was a dumbass. I really was.”

And she responded in the same tone, “Me too.”

Rukia knew she already had the distinct spark in her eyes that only Ichigo was able to spurt out of her. It has been a year and he still does the same thing to her, he’s still completely effective against her — the smirk, the softness in his eyes, his unquestionable handsome features.

Those 17 months were the worst of my life, I’m sure of it. The worst winter, I was cold all the time.

But Rukia is stupid sometimes and always so so worried about him and she suspects she forever will. So she blurts, "Inoue is better for you."

Hurt dances in his eyes and a twist of his mouth scream to her how disappointed he was. But Ichigo never backs down, no, not Ichigo. Just a look into his eyes and expression and Rukia knows why he was there. After all, she had said before and will say it again — they know each other so well that it seems almost some kind of witchcraft someone cast on them in another life.

He pulls her closer, really close, and one hand is around her waist and she’s trapped, almost giving in—

"I don't want to be with Inoue", his tone is final, certain.

Then Rukia whispers with a trembling voice as if she doesn’t believe a word that was flying out of her mouth, "Inoue can give you so much more."

"I don't want whatever she can give me."

Ichigo leans in her brother’s desk behind him and they were almost on the same height. He was too tall and she was too short, so she rarely had the chance to be that close to his face to the point of drowning in his brown eyes, see clearly how he had marks from frowning so much and his well-shaped mouth.

He looked frantically at her, orbs moving fast, piercing her own big eyes, expecting some reaction from her. 

I don’t want to be cold anymore. I wanna go home.

"That'd never work. I'm literally a ghost, stupid boy. And you have an entire life ahead of you. Why waste your life with someone who's already dead?", she starts stumbling over her words and her expression was pleading for him to understand, it was almost pitiful, full of the longing of a whole freaking year. “Besides, what about Yhwach? I know I’m assuming you’d be happy with this predicament, but—”

Now he was truly close, looking at her lips, seeming to not listen to a word that was leaving her mouth; deciding, in the end, to swallow her pleas and doubts, “Then I’ll fight him again and again and again.”

Ichigo mumbled in her mouth and then she comes undone when he rests his hand in the back of her neck, his lips meeting hers. They had never kissed before, but somethings stirs inside her, some old memory and then she’s not frozen anymore. Any argument she had, dies in her throat, dies with her gasp and with her eyes closing ever so slowly, dies with Ichigo flushing her body to his, locking and embracing her, with the intensity of a year apart. 

She finds usage for her hands, resting one on his back — feeling the muscles, the spine, everything — and the other gripping his shirt with all the longing she had inside her. Then she had no idea how, didn’t even see it coming, but his tongue found hers and he tilts her head slightly, kissing with all the fierceness he possessed and Rukia caught her breath. With every nip of her lip and any tease of his tongue, he’s asking her to choose him. 

Asking her to stay with him. 

Like she had any control when it comes to Ichigo. So her answer overflows with every bite on his lips, with her hands running up and down his back, with the soft moan she let it slip. 

They part an eternity later so Ichigo could rest his forehead on hers, both panting for breath and she had never felt warmer in her life — no cold and lonely winter is able to break her now. He whispers again, his mouth brushing against hers, "You don't want it to work, Rukia?"

She closes her eyes and mutters, “I don’t want you to die, Ichigo. Everything I did from the moment we met was to make sure you wouldn’t die.”

“Please, Rukia”, a kiss, “It was really hard—”, another kiss, “to keep up with the speed of the world on those 17 months”, a tug on her lips, “Don’t do that to me again.”

“Ichigo—”, she whimpers.

"Let me stay. Please, midget."

Another kiss.

"Are you trying to convince me by kissing me?", she scoffed.

He decided to leave her lips and trail her jawline with slow-dive kisses, then basically purred in her ear, "I don't know, is it working?"

She could feel his smirk. Bastard.

Rukia rested her head on his temple and whispered with the affection she normally keeps to herself, "I want you to stay."

He stops kissing her and holds her tight in his arms, resting his head on her shoulder. "I missed you, you know? It was raining too much already", he says in a strange strained voice.

She answers with one of her own, but with sincerity, "Me too. The winter was almost unbearable, Ichigo."

He moves away just enough to look at her and then has the audacity to grin at her face after so many confessions, "So… is that an order, Captain Kuchiki?"

"I'm still not a Captain, Ichigo!"

"But you will be, so might as well start training", he shot her his lopsided smile that always lets her wondering how someone was not able to fall for it. She did, but no way in hell she would tell him.

She puts her hand in her chin and actually considers his suggestion, Ichigo just laughed. "Mmm, from that point of view, I guess you're right", then she arches an eyebrow and says in a mocking tone, "That's a first, huh."

Ichigo presses his lips in a thin line and she was almost sure there is a vein pulsing in his forehead, "Oe, you damn shorty—"

Before he finally snaps, she dives in and steals another breathtaking kiss and decides that she loved to hear him gasp. In the end, he had convinced her and she knew danger would always be lurking around, hunting them, trying to tear them apart, to sever their red thread, but Ichigo said he'd fight over and over again. So she'd do the same, over and over again.

"Just shut up and stay, Kurosaki."

Winter will never freeze her again.

[uno-reverse-fic]

Part 2 Chapter 4

You woke up the next day with renewed energy, having gotten a surprisingly good night's sleep for the past few days. You rushed around your room, getting dressed and gathering a bag with your phone and money. You slipped on your crocs and headed out of your room towards the common area. You snagged an apple from the kitchen for breakfast and shove a granola bar in your bag in case you got a bit hungry before lunch. Kirshima, Mina, Todoroki, and Iida were already waiting for the rest of the group to show up. You sat and conversed with them, as a few more of your classmates showed up. Midoriya, Ochaco, Jiro, Hagakure, Yaoyorozu, Sero, Kaminari, and Tokoyami eventually showed up and you all began your trip to the mall. You sat in between Midoriya and Kaminari on the train, sharing memes with the two of them. You could already feel your spirits begin to lighten.

Once you got to the mall everyone split up into three groups depending on where everyone wanted to shop. You went with Todoroki, Tokoyami, and Sero, and Jirou who were stopping at the emo-teen stores. You liked the anime merch that was usually in those places, but you didn't usually go to them for any other reasons, so you decided that you would break off from them and meet up with Midoriya, Iida, Ochaco, and Kirshima to check out the more nerdy, stores after you hit Hot Topic.

"Alright since Surō wanted to meet up with Midoriya's group we'll go to Hot Topic first, that way you can get on your way without us boring you in the rest of our emo-kid stores." Sero suggested, gaining nods of approval from the rest of the group. The five of you made your way to the second floor, where said shop was located. However without your knowledge, you caught the eye of someone who definitely didn't want you around.

You looked around a bit, gazing in awe at the huge wall of figurines, but nothing peaked your interest enough to spend money on, so you decided to check out and meet up with Midoriya's group.

"I'm gonna go find the others, see ya later!" You said, waving to your friends as you walked out into the busy crowd. You sent a text to Iida, who you knew would respond the quickest, asking where they were. Just as you suspected he responded quickly, and mentioned that they were a few stores to the right of the Hot Topic entrance. You began heading in that direction, and looked down at your phone once again to type a reply. However, in your multitasking, you didn't notice the hooded figure that walked right into you.

"Ow! Sorry, wasn't looking where I was going, my ba—" You looked up to see him walking right past you, clearly unfazed by your collision. He shot you a crooked, yellow, smile and tapped you on the back of the neck.

"Have fun," He whispered slyly in your ear. Then you felt it. An all too familiar, horrible nauseas feeling, accompanied by dizziness. You stumbled your way through the crowd, and caught yourself on a nearby bench. Out of the corner of her eye, Ochaco saw your sickened movements, and rushed over to help.

"Oh my god what happened is everything ok?!" She worried.

"Oh yea, I'm fine. Just felt a little light-headed there." You said, recovering from the sudden burst of sickness.

"Oh my gosh S-Surō! A-are you ok?!" Midoriya stammered, rushing over to you as well to make sure everything was ok. You nodded to him, and did the same to Iida and Kirshima when they asked.

"I'm fine, really. Probably just dehydrated." You told them, knowing full well why you had that nausea burst. He was back, the same villain from before, and you only had 24 hours to come up with a plan, and get him to fix this mess before it started. 24 hours, and the clock was already ticking.

You spent the rest of the morning silently brainstorming ideas, and looking around to see if you could find the villain again. You were sure your friends suspected something was up, but they didn't say anything about it. At lunch Ochaco told everyone what happened, and how they found you clutching onto the side of a bench, trying not to fall onto the floor. Immediately everyone began questioning you and worrying, you dismissed it as possible dehydration, and continued eating. After lunch had finished, everyone decided to go home, the morning seemed to have been enough time for everyone to shop around.

Everyone hung out in the common area when you got back, and rumors quickly spread about your dizzy spell. Everyone bought your excuse, except for one person, Bakugo. He knew exactly what was up, and decided to keep his eye on you until the inevitable happened. He didn't question you however, knowing you would only blow up in his face again, and you had seemed happy enough the past few days, he wanted to keep it that way. He also didn't miss the way you seemed to get lost in intense thoughts quite often that evening. You were trying to form a plan without telling anyone, trying to keep your problems to yourself instead of burdening everyone else, even though that was sure to get you killed.

That night after dinner you were sitting around the TV, talking with some of your friends, when an unexpected news report came on.

"Breaking News: a criminal known as Tarachi Isoya escaped captivity last night. He was last seen wandering around a mall, before leaving in a hurry. If you see this man do not engage with him, and do not allow him to come into direct physical contact with you. His emitter-class quirk allows him to shrink any object he touches, however it's effect only works 24 hours after initial contact. He is extremely dangerous and has successfully taken on pro heroes. If you see him, immediately call the police." Then the report ended, and all eyes immediately shot towards you.

"Heh heh, what a coincidence that I happened to get a dizzy-spell on the same day he showed up at the mall." You sweated nervously. Mina cut in,

"So, dehydration. Is that also a side effect of his quirk." She said sarcastically.

"Yea what were you gonna do once you... ya know. Shrunk?" Kaminari asked, wary of his word choice, for fear of another attack.

"Ok, lets stop harassing the soon to be shorty and formulate a buddy system." Kirshima remarked, sliding in a small joke along with his idea.

"I don't need a buddy system." You said,

"I'm fine."

"You wont be saying that tomorrow at— wait do we even know what time it happened?" Ochaco asked. Midoriya shook his head,

"No, I vote for the buddy system strategy."

"Oo oo! We can make it like a game! Each hour we'll switch out, and we can draw lots to see who gets which hour of the morning! And then whoever is around when she shrinks gets to take care of her until we can figure out what to do next!" Kaminari chimed in again. That was it, you couldn't take the thought of your friends placing bets on your life. To them maybe it was a simple game to see who would have to hold the responsibility of taking care of another human, but to you, this was a live or die situation.

You got up and went to the bathroom, passing Bakugo, who was obviously eavesdropping, on your way there. He grabbed your arm before you could go any further.

"What do you want blondie?" You asked him.

"I wanna give my input on the situation." He said.

"Fine make it quick." You snapped.

"I think you shouldn't have tried to hide it from them in the first place, they eventually would have picked up on it, and if not you'd be dead meat without me. I was the only one who knew, and I know for a fact you would rather die than spend another week with me," You nodded at him, confirming his assumption,

"I don't think its right that they're drawing lots to see who gets to carry you around in their pocket for who knows how long. However, the idea of someone keeping an eye on you isn't a bad one. Just try to take my advice, and rather than have them decide who takes care of you, do it yourself. Make a decision quickly, before you dont have any authority over them." He concluded, letting go of your arm, and finding that you didn't storm off right away. Instead you pondered his idea for a moment before shaking your head and turning to head to your room.

"Tch, idiot. She's gonna wake up tomorrow and realize she shoulda listened to me." He muttered to himself before turning in for a good night's rest.

The next day you woke up to a knocking on your door,

"Surō, wake up! We cant have you in your bed all day, we have to keep an eye on you!" Iida exclaimed, his overly enthusiastic voice muffled by the door.

"Ok, gimme a few minutes." You already hated today, it was once again the beginning of your living nightmare. You pulled on the same gray t-shirt and red shorts you had worn the last time, having found they were quite comfortable to spend an entire week in. You slugged downstairs to be greeted with words of worry, and concern. You were completely mad at anything and everything, your weekend was ruined beyond belief. You made yourself your last cup of coffee for the next few weeks, and quickly downed the hot liquid. Today was going to be entirely about avoidance. You dropped your mug in the sink, and before you could run back off to your room, you were greeted with Ochaco's smile.

"Hey Surō! So last night we drew lots, and lucky me, I got the first hour!" She said cheerfully, but her voice soon dropped,

"Sorry about all of that, after you left Midoriya suggested that we let you decide, but you had already gone to sleep, so we were forced to go with Kaminari's idea." She told you, and you shrugged at her.

"Maybe we can take a walk outside since it's supposed to rain later today." She suggested.

"Sounds good to me." You knew the real reason she suggested that, it was because it was one of the last normal things you could do before your life went tumbling downhill again. You went with it anyway, taking her idea as a gift of gratitude. It was too bad she definitely wouldn't be the one to keep you for the next few weeks, you trusted her kind nature.

The first hour consisted of you and Ochaco chatting, and walking around the campus, by the time you made it back to the dorms, Yaoyorozu was waiting patiently, with a hot cup of tea, for your arrival. You spent the next hour with her, and the hour after that was with Midoriya, the two of you watched anime the entire time. After that was Mina, who decided that watching a rom-com would be a delightful way to spend her hour with you, the movie wasn't bad and despite your lack of endearment towards that genre, Mina ended up finding one that you enjoyed quite a bit. However this cut into the next hour, which you were to spend with Kirshima,

"Aw darn, I didn't wanna disturb your movie, so I waited til you finished, but now we only have 40 minutes." He complained, and you comforted him with a pat on the back.

"Sorry bout that. I gotta go to the bathroom real quick is that ok?" You asked.

"Yea, I'll wait right here." He answered, and you made your way to the bathroom for a short break. You weren't the happiest camper, because next up was Kaminari, and you definitely didn't wanna get stuck with him.

As you walked out of the bathroom however, you saw Bakugo walking in your direction, hands shoved in his pockets, and eyes fixed ahead of him. He wasn't there to watch you, but his plans soon changed when he saw you stumble back with a surprised look on your face. A horrible wave of dizziness and nausea washed over you, and in a panic, you stumbled backwards, tripping over your own feet. Bakugo's fast reflexes allowed him to catch you before you fell, but he gasped when you began shrinking in his hold. Your eyes opened and immediately locked onto his, you quickly pushed from his hold and stood up to regain your composure, but your pride was short lived. You watched in horror as everything grew around you steadily. Your eyes darted around frantically, and when they landed on Bakugo you felt the tears run down your face.

"No. No. No. Not here. Not now." You said, backing away from him. You didn't want a repeat of last time, you were scared, terrified, as Bakugo's growing form loomed over you. Tears ran down your face,

"Please, please don't take me." You cried to him, his hand came down gently on your shoulder, enveloping it, and part of your arm, as you continued to shrink.

"Surō listen to me. I'm not gonna hurt you, please stop looking at me like that." He said, but you couldn't move, frozen in place with terror. You were at his waist now, and he slumped down to his knees to level himself with you. He spoke again,

"Surō, please, trust me. I'm not going to make the same mistake twice. I'll protect you with my life. I promise. Please just forgive me, I had no idea what I was doing to you." He pleaded, it surprised you, he was practically begging for you to trust him. You had no idea what compelled you to do so, but in that moment you listened to him. You wrapped your arms around his growing neck, standing on his thigh to reach him as best you could. You felt his hands wrap onto your back, comforting your shrinking form. You cried into his chest, feeling his hands behind you, and you felt safe. You didn't completely trust him, but there was something in the way he spoke to you, that compelled you to listen. You felt the warmth of his chest, and you could hear his heart beating, growing louder with every second.

But just as soon as it began, it was over. You slumped against his hold, feeling his hands tremble slightly at the feeling of your tiny form. You could feel him tense up when you shifted to look up at him. He held a look of concern in his eyes, and he took a deep breath before he spoke to you once again,

"Your safe with me."

MASTERLIST

[eugenesmorphine]

A Mighty Pretty Sniper // Merriel "Snafu" Shelton imagine

@alienoresimagines

I walked through the camp, my rifle tightly in my hands. Repeating in my mind a rule that was dug into our heads in basic training. "Never leave your weapon unattended!" And god help the poor soul who ever did that. Being the only woman among hundreds of men, I knew not to get in trouble with something petty like that. Being a female was hard enough in this Pacific area against the Japanese. But, I worked hard to be here. And I'm not going to ruin my chances here for being a Woman and or breaking a stupid rule. They will toss me out faster than you can blink your eyes.

I walked through our camp, many Marines young and old walked around as well or were in their huts or doing whatever else. I had my C-bag on me, I was new so I was ordered to find myself a bunk. I followed a few other men, by which I think one of them was named Eugene Sledge. He had mentioned that he was from some place in Alabama. He was nice, just very shy and religious. Quite shocking that he volunteered to go into a war like this. He just doesn't fit the type. About two other men were walking to find a hut with me, I didn't get to know them really. I don't think I know their names. Just the fact that they are nineteen like me. 

I wasn't like the other men. Well, besides the fact that I was a female, I wasn't just an infantryman that carried normal rifles or big guns. I was a sniper. I had more knowledge of my rifle than most of the men in the Pacific Theatre. I was needed here. I'm not religious, I'm not open to these men and I don't trust any of them. I keep to myself unlike the others that have little "squads" of their own. Not many people believe in me to be here. That a woman had zero purpose in a war besides being a hospital nurse or a cook. I knew different though. I knew I could do just as good as the Male Marines, some I can outdo. I wasn't afraid of anything in this moment of time. I trusted myself and skills. These Male Marines had no affect on me. Whether they flirted with me, try to get physical, throw themselves at my feet, or are rude to me just for my Gender. I reject, push away, step over them, and ignore them. I worked just as hard to get here, maybe even harder. And a couple snotty and sweaty Marines won't change my mind.

We entered the hut and I slipped my helmet off my head. Placing my bag on an empty cot with no one and no one else's gear around the cot. Two men sat there and stared at me. A tan man, who was quite handsome, sat with a wide smirk plastered onto his face. I glanced at him, slightly confused at what he was smirking at. Though, I just kept a straight face as I tucked a few stray strands of hair back behind my right ear.

"Well what is a woman like you doing here in a war?" A New Orleans's accent poured out of the smirking man's mouth. I sighed and kept quiet as I unpacked my stuff and set my rifle onto my cot. Placing it to the side enough for the Marine to see. "You think you're better than everyone else so you can't answer my question? Huh? I see you are a marksman. Oh I'm sorry markswoman. Say, how in the hell did the Marines let a woman in?" God I didn't think this guy would quit. I turned around to face him, the smirk still laying across his face happily. Like he was proud of what he said. 

"Well Marine, I worked hard to get here. Just like you did. So if you could kindly shut your trap and I can carry on performing my duties in this war," I replied, my tone had attitude and anger laced between each word. I turned around, focusing back on my task at hand of organizing my C-bag. Though, before spinning around, I caught the look of slight surprise on the Marines face. His face settling back into now somewhat of an angry smirk. Like he thought I should've never spoken to him in the way I had.

"Well, Marine, I don't want you next to me on the battlefield. I don't trust a woman that belongs back in the states, working in a damn kitchen doing any sorts of fighting that judges if I make it back home to New Orleans or not," he went off. I clenched my teeth and sighed out angrily. He wasn't worth the argument. I knew my place and I knew my worth and skills in this goddamn war. I don't need a stupid Marine telling me to do shit with myself. So I grabbed my rifle and put it over my shoulder, walking out without saying anything to figure out my orders.

A few days had passed and my hut mate, the one that doesn't seem to like me much, hasn't changed. I found out his name is Merriel Shelton and he was in fact from New Orleans. Each and everyday he put me down, boasting about how I didn't belong here with the other Marines and how I don't know how to properly use a gun like the one I was issued. I just kept to myself, ignoring him and trying to ignore the anger I was feeling to the irritating Marine. I just pushed through each morning and day. Through the days I had to scrub oil  out of drums, trainings, cleaning and cooking. Everything not fun. But it's apart of being a Marine. And I'm okay with getting my hands dirty.

A few other days passed. And now we are all crawling up a beach, dodging enemy fire and artillery. I kept crawling, looking over to see Merriel, he looked back at me, a snarl forming on his face. Maybe he actually felt the things he said. Which kind of hurt for some odd reason. Though, while pushing the thoughts into the back of my brain. 

I continued crawling and got to jungle line. I pulled up my rifle and aimed the sights down. Focusing my sights on a Japanese Machine Gunner. Placing my finger on the trigger and holding my breath, squeezing it. The shot rang off and I watched as the Jap fell and dropped dead. I repeated these actions, killing the small squads of Japs. We carried on, farther into the jungles. I kept higher grounds just in case. Keeping a lookout for any threats to kill my fellow Marines.

We came across a clearing. Everyone started setting up there guns after we did short patrols, checking to see if any enemies were around. I climbed up a tree and covered my face in some black face paint. I set up my gun and I watched some other Marines walked in an open field. I looked down at my sights and looked at the Marines. A couple I didn't know and then there was Merriel. He was unarmed. Which was very stupid of him. What is he doing without a gun? I shook my head to myself and kept looking down my sights. Merriel was close to the tree line, from which the bushes and trees are so dense, you can barely see through it. Though I noticed some rustling between the trees and bushes. And that's when I heard it.

A Jap came sprinting out of the bushes, blood covering his uniform and face, his bayonet out in front of him. He had been screaming and he was charging at Merriel. The scene turned into slow motion. I watched as Merriel turned around and his eyes slowly filled with terror. I watched as others turned around in shock and went to shoot at the Japanese soldier sprinting at their fellow Marine. With no sweat I quickly looked down my scope and focused my breathing in a way that I could aim my weapon at the Jap's head. I squeezed the trigger and I watched as the bullet fired right between the enemies eyes. The Jap dropped just inches in front of Merriel. I watched as the Marine stared at the dead enemy at his feet. I watched as his chest rose and fell quickly, he was shocked and scared at that moment. I put my rifle's sights down and aimed it down. He looked back up at me and I gave him a slight nod and he gave me one back, looking back at the body in front of him. 

As soon as we checked the area once more for enemies and made sure that there were none in the area, I slipped down from my position in the tree and walked to where I set up my cot for the night. I sat down and cleaned my gun, then placing it to the side of me. I wanted to clean off the black face paint that I had smeared over my face to blend in better with the trees. But for the life of me I couldn't find my clean rag and water that I used. 

As I frustratedly searched for the rag and water, I heard someone clear their throat behind me. I stood up and turned to meet the person who stood behind me. It was Merriel. I rolled my eyes at his presence and crossed my arms. He had my rag and a canteen of water in either hand. I glanced at his hands and back at his face. I cocked an eyebrow up at him. His facial expressions were softer, which was strange for a man of his nature. I was a bit confused none the least.

"I, I know I haven't been to kind to a woman like you. I see that you have saved my life now and I shoulda been nicer to you. So I'm Just trying to say," he seemed to have trouble with his words. Stuttering slightly, his face was turning a slight shade of pink on his tan skin, underneath the dirt and sweat. He avoided eye contact. I knew he wasn't the type to ever apologize, but I didn't realize he would be this awkward and or nervous while doing it.

"You're trying to say sorry? To me?" I asked, a little shock in my voice. He sighed and he nodded, now looking up and staring in my eyes. I could feel my face heat up slightly. Now I was somewhat grateful for the black face paint smudge across my facial features. I smiled slightly at him, a smirk of my own spreading across my face. He looked away seeing my smirk, then extending my hands with the objects I need towards me. I smiled softly and took them gratefully. I sat down and pulled out a mirror. 

I watched as Merriel stood awkwardly. "Would you like to sit down? Maybe talk a bit?" I asked, looking up at him as I began to wipe the black paint off my face. He looked at me, swallowing slightly and sitting next to me.

For the next couple hours, Merriel and I talked, just me and him. He didn't even know my name which I thought was funny. He was strange, but I was oddly intrigued by him. His hard and extremely scary exterior was pretty much down as of right now. It was strange and different, hearing him be softer in his voice and nice to me. I was secretly shocked.

"I think you're mighty pretty Y/N," he said softly. It had no been hours of Merriel and I talking. It had gotten extremely dark out, must've been past midnight. I smiled at him. "Thanks Merriel, you aren't too bad yourself," I said softly as I looked at him. A toothy smile spread across his face. He had checked his watch and you could see the shock on his face. "Shit! It's already two in the goddamn morning! I got to go back to my cot Y/N, but I'll talk to you tomorrow," he said rushing, but his voice was sweet. I smiled and nodded, laying back on my cot, pulling my blanket over me.

I was happy tonight. My enemy is my friend. And as of right now, he might be more. I went to bed smiling that night. And little did I know, Merriel did as well.

[unfortunate-stranger-losers]

All Those Things They Couldn’t Say - A Runaway Baudelaires AU

{ao3} {tumblr} {masterlist}

Chapter Thirty-Nine - Laboheme

They sat in a near-empty room, with only a woman sleeping in the bed against the far wall for company whenever doctors came in and out. They did routine examinations while Violet spat out a fake story about a neighbor being angry that they were climbing in his tree, and how their parents would be along to pay the bill quite soon, don’t worry. Duncan was pretty nervous and uncomfortable most of the time, especially as they had him change into a hospital gown and kept having to touch and mess with his wound. So Isadora held one hand and Violet held another, while Klaus and Sunny sat beside him and rambled on about some book or another to distract him. If there weren’t doctors in, though, and Duncan did not need distracting, then Klaus would pull a book from his bag and read for them, while Sunny waddled around the room trying to get used to walking on her own, Isadora sketched out some poetry ideas, bouncing them off her brother, and Violet played with their last telegram, doodling on the edges or just staring at it.

At one point, the Volunteers Fighting Disease came in, singing to try to cheer them up, and the children were incredibly amused by the fact that they were not at all recognized as “those kids we shared a busride with.” They were so amused that when the Volunteers left, they all burst into laughter, almost doubling over, and not stopping until the next doctor came in. 

When the last doctor left and Duncan was settled in bed, flipping through the newspaper that was provided for him and using Klaus’s pencil to scratch out inconsistencies, Violet leaned over to Isadora and said, “We’ll be back in a few minutes. I saw arrows to the library, it’s a few floors up but not too far. Locks shouldn’t be hard to pick.” 

Isadora bit her lip and bounced her leg. “Are you sure?” 

“We’ll be fine. Just… if anyone comes in, you still have your weapons.” 

Isadora smiled slightly, and then whispered, “I took the dagger that stabbed Duncan and stuck it in my bag. I’m gonna wash it off and use it to cut someone’s hand off.” 

“Great idea.” Violet beamed. “We’ll see you in a few minutes.” 

They made their way to the library of records, and Violet knelt by the locks, narrowing her eyes. “Ugh.” 

“Ugh?” Klaus asked, gently placing Sunny onto the ground. “That’s not a good sound.” 

“Tis not, brother dear.” Violet rolled her eyes, shooting him a look. “These are way more complicated than our ordinary-enough pin-tumbler locks. We shoulda found someone with keys and swiped em.” 

“Do you think you can get in?” 

“It could take some time.” 

Sunny walked over, looked up at the lock, and then said, “Bite.” 

“No, you’re not biting the locks, Sunny-girl.” 

Sunny shook her head, and bit the edge of her finger. “Bite.” 

“I don’t follow.” 

“I think,” Klaus said, sitting by Sunny, his eyes wide, “She’s offering to bite something small to function as a key.” 

“That… may not be a bad idea.” Violet considered. She reached into her bag, muttering, and then pulled out her bag of hairpins. “So first you-” 

“Gotit.” Sunny shrugged, and started biting and twisting the pins, peering into the keyholes as she worked. 

“Cool.” Violet shrugged and stood up, smiling over at Klaus. “Our baby sister’s a free lockpick-maker.” 

“You don’t think she’ll hurt herself?” 

“She’ll be fine.” 

Sunny nodded as she handed Violet a lockpick, and Violet knelt down. Within a few minutes, the door was swinging open. 

“Fuck yeah.” Violet grinned. Klaus lifted Sunny as she shouldered her bag, and she walked inside, flicking on a lightswitch. Ahead of them were rows upon rows of filing cabinets, stretching out as far as the eye could see. 

“Hmm.” Sunny growled in displeasure, narrowing her eyes. “How are we gonna find the file in here?” 

Klaus moved to the first cabinet, and ran his hand over an AA-AC label. “It looks alphabetical. So we should check under ‘Baudelaire.’” 

Violet nodded, and after she tied her hair back and did a quick look-over of the cabinets, she directed them down the rows, until they reached AX-BA. She grabbed the right drawer, huffing to find it was locked, but thankfully this one was much easier to pick. When she got it open, Klaus used his free hand to flip through quickly, but he shook his head once he reached the end. 

“No Baudelaire.” 

“Maybe the next drawer?” 

“No. See, this is ‘Baz.’” Klaus shook his head. 

Violet paused. “Maybe it’s misspelled. B-U-Delaire.” 

“Budelaire.” Sunny giggled. 

“We can check.” Klaus shrugged. 

Violet moved down the cabinets, scanning the B labels, and when she found the BU-CA, she once again picked it open, and Klaus flipped through. 

“No.” he shook his head. 

“Are you sure?” 

“We go from ‘Buccaneer’ to ‘Byers.’ No room for ‘Budelaire.” 

Violet bit her lip. “Let’s check VFD.” 

As they headed down the rows, looking for the V files, Sunny whispered, “Vi? D’nouf?” “What if someone already took the files?” 

“Nobody saw that telegram but the guy at the counter, and you’d think he’d mention if he’d been able to give it to someone else.” Violet whispered, tugging on her ribbon. “Lemony never saw it, and the senders didn’t seem to be going anywhere.” 

“Cep?” “What if someone intercepted it?” 

“We’ll have to hope they didn’t.” Violet said. She glanced back at her sister and said, “This was important to Lemony, so it has to be important to us. I’ll open every filing cabinet in this room if I have to.” 

Sunny nodded, though Klaus bit his lip and glanced at the ground, unsure of how productive this was going to be. 

Violet found two entire drawers labelled VF, and she picked both, before tossing them open. Klaus put Sunny on the ground and flipped through the tops, reading out loud. “VFD- 1485 Columbia Road. VFD- 667 Dark Avenue. VFD- Anwhistle Aquatics. Bats in the Train Station. Building Committee. Curdled- we’ve gotten past ‘b.’” 

“Keep going.” Violet insisted. 

Klaus sighed. “Denouement, Hotel. Doyle, Vincent Francis. Dressing, Lois. Frogg-Drifter, Violetta. Hypnotists in the Office. Items, Museum of. Lachrymose, Ivan. Leeches in the Lake. Lions in the Mountains. Little Snicket Lad-” 

Violet pulled the file out and flipped it open, and then shook her head. “Just the sheet music with some notes. Not seeing anything good.” 

Klaus sighed and moved onto the next drawer. “Medusoid Mycelium. Orion Observatory. Prufrock Prep. SS Prospero. Schism, Discussions of - there’s like three files here.” 

“Hand em over. Might make for interesting reading.” Violet said. Klaus shrugged and handed her the files, and she shoved them into her bag, barely fitting it in. “What else?” 

“A bunch of investigative reports from an E Snicket- do we know one?” 

“Probably a relative of Lemony’s. Here, I’ll shove that in your bag. Keep going.” 

There’s not much else. I see Stain’d-by-the-Sea, Reports of; Sugar Bowl; Surgeons in the Theater; Valorous Farms; Volunteer Feline Detectives; Winnipeg, Duchy of; World is Quiet Here… another World is Quiet Here, and Zombies in the Snow. No Baudelaire.” 

“Or Budelaire?” Sunny giggled, for some reason thinking that was the funniest thing in the world. 

Violet groaned, finishing zipping up Klaus’s bag, and she tugged on her ribbon harder. “There’s gotta be a place. Maybe F for File.” 

“Seriously, Violet? Everything here is a file.” 

“Well, what do you suggest, oh wise one?” 

Sunny gave them incredulous looks. “Snicket.” 

Violet and Klaus gave her a look, and then Klaus slapped his forehead. “Duh.” 

“Come on.” Violet tossed him his bag, and Klaus threw it over his shoulder and then picked up Sunny as they raced back to the S cabinets. She ran her hands over the metal, watching the SW-SZ turn to SS-SV, then SO-SR… 

“Here!” Violet called. She raced to the SN drawer, and then again unlocked it quickly, tossed it open, and stepped back for Klaus to file through. He dropped Sunny, flipped a few files, and then beamed over at her as he found the SNI and triumphantly lifted a file, labelled: SNICKET BAUDELAIRE, ⅔.

“Fuck, yes!” Violet knelt on the ground, bouncing with excitement. Klaus knelt beside her, and Sunny peered over his arm as he flipped it open. 

He narrowed his eyes, a little confused as he started spreading papers. “What are these? I don’t see anything to do with our parents here.” 

Violet looked over, and then narrowed her eyes. Happy she still had her hair tied back, she pointed to a clipped newspaper article. “Read that for me, while I sort through these?” 

“Capture of the Remains of the Inhumane Society.” Klaus read. He skimmed, and then said, “Not much info. Some people who were in a terrorist organization went on the run and were finally caught.” 

“When?” 

“Uh… like thirty years ago.” 

“Date?” 

Klaus told her. 

Violet turned to him. “Open your commonplace book, make a note.” 

He shrugged and nodded, and as he started writing, Violet picked up an article. “Murder! Count and Countess found dead in mysterious circumstances at the Opera- well, alright, we can guess what this is.”

Sunny, not paying much attention, picked up a scrap and waved it in front of Klaus. “Whazzit?” 

“That’s some kind of poem, I think.” Klaus once again skimmed. “About making poison from bird bones.” 

“A profile on ‘Armstrong Feint.’” Violet said. “We have an underline here- base of operations in Clusterous Forest.” 

“Clusterous Forest?” Klaus echoed, and then lifted another paper. “What about this?” 

“What’s it say, dingus?” 

“It’s a transcript of an environmental society meeting about protecting some seaweed forest.” 

“What are you seeing?” 

Klaus scanned and recited interesting things that came to him. “Some are arguing that it’s a marvel of science as it’s landlocked, meaning the seaweed grows outside the ocean. But others are arguing that its existence is dangerous to the local wildlife, as birds will land on the seaweed and get stuck and die of starvation.” 

“Scout!” Sunny called. “Dead birds!” 

“Dead bird skeletons make poison.” Violet said, as Klaus started writing as many notes as he could. “This Armstrong Feint was in the Clusterous Forest, with a lotta dead birds…” she scanned the profile again. “Guess who was in charge of the Inhumane Society?” 

“So the Inhumane Society has poison? What does that have to do with us?” 

“Gimme the poem.” Violet took the paper and scanned it. “Klaus, it’s not about making poison. It’s about making poison darts.” 

Klaus’s eyes widened. “What?” 

“Whazzit?” Sunny asked, more confused than her brother. 

“Gimme the date of that arrest again, quick.” Violet said, shoving the papers back into the file and tying her ribbon around it to keep it closed. 

Klaus gave it to her, nodding; he was thinking the same thing. 

“That’d be when our parents were about sixteen.” Violet said. “And guess what.” She held up the paper she’d grabbed. “That capture was after the opera. Where our parents-” 

“You think-” 

“Lemony was trying to build a case. To frame this society.” Violet said, her eyes sparkling. She tossed the file at Klaus, who quickly flipped open his bag, shoving it inside as tight as he could. “They had poison darts. At least a couple were active during the Opera. If he can blame them-” 

“Then our parents are free.” Klaus breathed. 

They stared at each other a long time, and then Sunny asked, “Laboheme?” “What does this have to do with our parents?” 

Violet and Klaus froze. In their moment of euphoria, they’d forgotten that Sunny had not been told about their parents’ crime. Had not even guessed, as they had, what had probably happened. 

“Um…” Violet began. 

How would they explain that to her? What they’d just pieced together in their heads? How did one tell an infant that Lemony was trying to frame criminals for a murder that their parents committed? 

“Laboheme?” Sunny asked, more insistently. 

“The- the Opera…” Klaus bit his lip, glancing to Violet. “Um… it- it seems that- what happened at the Opera…” 

“Yes,” said a dark, sickeningly sweet voice behind them. “Tell her what happened at the Opera.” 

Violet’s head shot up, and then Klaus’s, his arm instinctively reaching out to grab Sunny and yank her closer to him. They stared up at Esme, who was smiling down at them in a cruel way. 

“Tell your baby sister,” she said, “What your parents have done.” 

Violet took a deep breath, then whipped a knife out of her pocket, and said, “Klaus, Sunny, run.” 

She didn’t have to ask twice. Violet jumped to her feet, throwing the knife at Esme’s chest, but unfortunately Violet giving her siblings forewarning also served to tell Esme something was going to happen, and she managed to leap out of the way. Violet quickly took off after her siblings, digging into her pocket for another knife. 

They raced down a few aisles, before ducking down behind a row of cabinets. “How did she-” Klaus began. 

“Firetruck. We left the firetruck-” 

“But that wouldn’t tell them-” 

“Unless they talked to the counter guy-” 

“Shit.” 

“Okay.” Violet took a breath. “We need to get to Duncan and Isadora and get out of- duck!” 

She pushed Klaus down, just as something flew over their heads. Violet turned to see one of Esme’s shoes, knives replacing the heels, landing against the side of a cabinet and sticking. 

“Oh, I see,” Violet nodded, as she pushed Klaus and Sunny ahead of her, turning to stick her tongue out at Esme as the woman started running after them. “More knives. Guess what, though?” she pushed Klaus and Sunny to the left, then ran to the heel, ripped it out of the cabinet, and said, “I got this now!” 

She pushed Klaus and Sunny down an aisle as Esme raced past, and then whispered, “Think she’s got the door blocked?” 

“I’d assume so.” 

“There’s gotta be a window. We can shimmy out and get Duncan and Isadora. Run to the left, side of the building should be that way.” 

Klaus nodded, and Sunny leaned against him, whimpering slightly. They started running, as Violet stayed behind her siblings, glancing back to see if Esme was behind them. 

After only a moment though, she let out a shout of surprise, as a row of filing cabinets, just beside them, came crashing down. Violet pushed Klaus aside, spotting Esme at the end of the toppled cabinets, and then said, “Alright, Klaus, officially? We’re on an A Flat.” 

He nodded, and took off running. They maneuvered through aisles, hearing more crashing behind them, and Violet waved the stiletto heel in her hands, trying to get used to the weight. “I dunno how accurately I can throw this.” 

“Vi, can we get out of here and then discuss that?” 

“Right, yeah.” 

Sunny shrieked, and Klaus quickly hauled Violet beside him as a filing cabinet fell right where she’d been standing. Violet then said, “Okay, F minor-” “Nobody talk!” -and they pushed on. 

“Come on, dears!” they heard Esme call, and Violet gripped the knife-shoe tighter. “We just want to have some fun!” 

At fun, another aisle started crashing. Klaus whimpered, the noise overstimulating him quite a bit, and Violet put her arm around him and kept pushing them forward. 

“Don’t you want to see Mummy and Daddy again?” 

Violet blinked away tears, and breathed a sigh of relief when she saw a wall up ahead. She raced them forwards and then ran them down until they found a window. Violet opened it, as Klaus threw the Sunnybag onto the ground and started strapping their sister into it. He slid it onto his back, whispered for his sister to hold on, and Violet helped him slide down onto the side of the outer wall. He slid slightly, and Violet turned, watching another row of cabinets start to topple. “She’s getting close.” 

“Then hurry out!” 

She glanced down. There wasn’t room for her to go beside him, and he wouldn’t get down far enough for her to start for quite some time. 

“New plan.” Violet said. 

“What?” 

Violet shrugged her bag off and tossed it out the window. 

“What?” 

“I’ll circle around so Esme doesn’t see where you got out.” 

“Violet-” 

“If I don’t meet you in the Quagmires’ room, run somewhere, get out. I’ll find you, I promise.” 

Before Klaus could argue more, Violet shut the window, and then called, “Klaus, go for the door! I’ll hold her off!” and took off running. 

She didn’t stick around to hear if Klaus yelled at her or if Sunny made a noise of protest, because another row of filing cabinets came tumbling down, and Violet ducked down an aisle, breathing deeply. 

“Well, well, well.” she heard Esme say, a little distantly, “Looks like our little Snicket is all alone.” 

Violet shut her eyes and gripped her jacket with one hand and the knife shoe with the other. 

“Come along, darling. Don’t you want to say goodbye to your mother?” 

Violet shook slightly as she edged her way down the aisle, trying to soften her footsteps. 

“Your Mother’s dying to see you, you know! All three of you!” 

Another row fell down, this one closer to the door. Violet breathed a sigh of relief, knowing that Esme had clearly taken her bait. She backed up a little, trying to keep her head low and her steps quiet. 

And then she felt an arm on her shoulder. 

She screamed and whipped around, swinging the knife heel. She jumped with surprise as she saw that Henchperson of Indeterminate Gender leap back, the heel cutting across their arm. They let out a gasp, and Violet took off running. Fuck, how many of them were there? Fuck, fuck, fuck… 

She kept moving, the files blurring around her, ignoring how close or far the cabinets were toppling, trying to still the beating panic in her heart and not look down at the blood on the knife heel… 

She turned a bend and saw Esme at the end of the aisle, knocking down another row. Violet stepped back, throwing back her arm in preparation to toss the shoe. Esme turned, a flicker of surprise in her eyes. 

Then Violet was grabbed from behind again, and this time the weapon was knocked from her hand. 

“Well, well, well,” Olaf whispered, as Violet screamed and tried to struggle away, “What have we here?” 

[hysterialevi]

Red Dead Rising | Chapter 3

Fanfic summary: 12 YEARS BEFORE RDR2 - Greed, money, and larceny. These are the only things Arthur has ever known; the only things he’s ever been taught. But when Dutch decides to hit a town called Harlow, what started out as nothing more than a plan to rob the local bank ends up igniting the events that lead to RDR2, and a 24 year-old Arthur is forced to confront his morality while the gang faces a terrifying enemy of their own making.

Point of view: third-person

This story is also on AO3 and Wattpad

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Author’s note: Apologies for any spelling/grammar mistakes. It was really late when I finished this and I don’t have the energy to review it lol. Hope you enjoy regardless though :)

TWO MONTHS LATER

APRIL, 1887

INDIGO PEAK

Scribbling down a few more lines into his journal, Arthur added some last-minute touches to his sketch of Indigo Peak, doin’ his absolute best to capture what was in front of him.

There was a whole array of purple mountains just sitting in front of this camp. They all sat in a majestic, uneven line right above the horizon and towered over a gathering of evergreen trees, separating the sky from the wildlife that lived in the fields and meadows below.

The white sun also hovered above the mountains in a thick blanket of blue-tinted clouds, and provided the landscape with an abundance of rays. They passed through the space between the summits like something out of a painting, and touched the ground in a scattered pattern, giving the grass a dotted look.

It was extraordinarily beautiful, in Arthur’s opinion. He had seen nature’s beauty many times before, but... it was just one of those things that never got old.

Unfortunately for him however, he absolutely despised his drawing.

“Dammit...” Arthur muttered, smudging some of the graphite out.

How did people do this? Arthur originally got the idea to try it from Thomas who was constantly sketching away in his own journal, but the man made it look so easy. His “doodles” were always so detailed and lifelike, and in the meantime, Arthur’s looked like someone drew them in the midst of an earthquake. Or, at least, that was how he saw it.

The young outlaw let out an annoyed sigh and shut the journal closed, deciding to take a break for now as he relaxed on a nearby tree stump.

He was planning to visit Mary, anyway. The woman sent him a letter not too long ago, and apparently, she was in the region with her family. They were attending the wedding of one of her cousins and were staying at a farm that her grandparents owned, just outside of Harlow. Arthur figured he may as well stop by and say hello before they left.

He just hoped he could avoid Mr. Gillis.

None of the people in Mary’s family really liked him to begin with, but that man was an absolute menace whenever Arthur was around. The young outlaw didn’t know what the hell it would take to please Robert, but the fact that the one person who wanted him dead was the father of his fiancée worried him, to say the least.

Arthur understood Robert’s concerns about letting his daughter marry someone who was a criminal -- any good father would -- but at the same time, he thought he had more than proved himself during his time with Mary.

Arthur never put her in danger, or allowed her to get involved with the gang’s activities. He kept her well away from anything Dutch or Hosea did, and even promised to leave that life behind once he and Mary finally tied the knot. There was also the fact that little Jamie seemed to enjoy having Arthur nearby.

He just didn’t know what else he could do to show Robert that he would be a good husband. Maybe he thought Arthur wouldn’t keep his promise? Or that he was too incompetent?

Well, whatever the case was, Arthur had a bad feeling that Robert was going to be more of a headache than he originally expected. He assumed the man would’ve warmed up to him by now -- the wedding wasn’t too far away, after all -- but that obviously hadn’t happened yet.

He supposed he would just have to keep trying. Mary always told Arthur to have hope, but the young man wasn’t so sure that’d be enough anymore. Mr. Gillis was probably the most stubborn man he’d ever met in his life, and if things didn’t work out between the two of them -- well, that was a bridge they’d have to cross when they got to it.

Arthur just prayed he wouldn’t ever have to worry about that.

Breaking the silence, the sound of people arguing suddenly drew Arthur’s attention away from the landscape and cut off his train of thought, leading him to see what all the commotion was about.

It looked like Thomas and Mac were currently stuck in a spat about something at the moment, and the latter seemed to cling to his companion while he strode around camp, desperate to get away from the quarrel.

“--I’m just saying,” Mac reiterated, “we can’t wait forever!”

“And we won’t,” Thomas replied, clearly vexed. “But we need to be careful.”

The two of them came to a halt, carrying on with their argument not too far away from where Arthur was.

“C’mon, Mac. We’ve been robbing stuff with Hosea for nearly a year now. You know how this works. We make a plan, we wait, and when the time comes, we strike. It’s always the same.”

The other man crossed his arms. “Yeah, but we ain’t never robbed a bank before!”

Thomas placed his hands on his hips. “All the more reason to make sure we do this right. We only have one chance to pull this off, Mac. You understand that? One chance. Ain’t no way we can come back from this if we fail.”

Mac let out a sigh, still not convinced.

“It’s been two months, Thomas. How much longer are we gonna wait?”

Moreau leaned against a tree, shrugging. “I don’t know.”

“And what happens if the law finds out we’re here? We gonna move camp again?”

“I don’t know.”

“Well, what about Shaw? Has he made any progress with Farley?”

“I don’t--!” Thomas took a breath, calming himself down. “...I don’t know.”

Arthur jumped into the conversation before the two of them could argue any further and glanced over his shoulder, trying to defuse the situation.

“Hey, uh... you boys alright?” He called out.

Thomas dismissed the question, evidently just wanting to walk away from this.

“We’re fine, Arthur,” he answered, his tone saying otherwise. “Just... a tad anxious about the upcoming robbery.”

Mac scoffed. “If it ever comes.”

That caused Moreau to snap somewhat. “Yeah, well, you got any better ideas, Callander? Maybe you think we should just run up to the bank and shoot our way through the front door? In broad daylight. Oh, and while we’re at it, we could say hello to Sheriff Farley on the way back to camp! Maybe stay at his place for a cup of tea.”

“You know what, Frenchy,” Mac fired back, “you can be a real pain in the ass sometimes. Why Hosea even bothers puttin’ up with your bullshit is beyond me. He shoulda left you in New Aubertin as far as I’m concerned.”

“My bullshit?” Thomas repeated. “If I recall correctly, it’s always me who’s cleanin’ up after you and Davey! Like that hell y’all raised back in Mercy when Hosea first found you.”

“Oh, you’re really gonna pull that one out now--”

“--Gentlemen!”

Bringing the dispute to an abrupt halt, a guttural voice suddenly cut Mac and Thomas off right before things started to get heated, causing everyone to fall silent as a third party joined the scene.

Sauntering in their direction, Dutch casually walked up to the pair of outlaws with an amused grin on his face as he took a long drag on his cigar, chuckling at their behavior.

“You know, gentlemen, while I do appreciate a good ol’ fashioned fight like no other man alive...” he breathed out a puff of smoke, “...I’d rather you saved the killin’ for Farley’s boys. We got enough of a storm comin’ our way as is.”

Thomas sighed wearily. “Sorry, Dutch. It’s just... folk are gettin’ restless. We been sittin’ on this bank robbery for two months now, and Shaw has yet to give us the all-clear. Some are worried that we’re never gonna pull this off.”

Dutch smiled, pointing with his cigar. “Now, listen to me son, if there’s anything you’re gonna learn from your time with me, it’s that losin’ faith never did no one any good. This robbery is going to happen, and it’s going to happen soon. In fact, I actually received a letter from Benjamin yesterday evening. He thinks we can make our move at any minute now..”

Mac’s expression lit up with a newfound interest. “What? Really? When?”

The other man didn’t promise anything just yet. “I don’t know, but I’m planning to pay him a visit in Harlow. We’ll speak to him face-to-face, and see when we can get things rolling.”

Arthur picked up on that. “We?”

Dutch turned to him. “Yes. I need you to come with me too, Arthur. Apparently, Ben’s got a job for you to do. He asked for you specifically.”

Well, it looked like Arthur wasn’t going to see Mary as soon as he thought. The young man concealed his disappointment.  “...Alright, I guess.”

“Good. Then you and I will take a trip down to Harlow, see what Benjamin wants, and in the meantime...” Dutch brought his gaze to Thomas and Mac, “make sure the camp stays in one piece while we’re away, would you?”

Thomas nodded. “Things’ll be fine when you get back.”

“That’s what I like to hear.”

Dutch put out his cigar and headed for the horses, beckoning Arthur. “Come on, son. We got a job to do.”

Slipping the journal back into his satchel, Arthur removed himself from the tree stump and followed Dutch at a brisk pace, sticking close-by while Thomas and Mac returned to their business.

It looked like the two of them had calmed down by now, and to finish things off, they exchanged some final words before parting ways for the afternoon.

“Hey...” Mac murmured apologetically, “sorry for, um... what I said back there. Y’know I didn’t mean it.”

Thomas let out a fatigued breath. “...Sure. I know.”

The hot-tempered outlaw threw in a quick offer. “...Wanna head down to the saloon later?”

Thomas repeated his answer, although a bit more relaxed this time. “Sure.”

Arthur grinned at the sight and chuckled quietly to himself, shaking his head in amusement. He supposed he and Marston weren’t the only ones who had a relationship like that.

There was no doubt that the little boy drove Arthur insane sometimes, but deep down, the young man knew he could never really hurt John. The kid was like a baby brother to him, after all. Dutch and Hosea pretty much raised them like siblings, and underneath all the havoc, Arthur couldn’t deny that he loved Marston.

He just wished he could get some alone time once in a while. Lord knew John loved getting attention.

“I hope I didn’t interrupt any plans you had,” Dutch suddenly remarked, bringing Arthur back to the task at hand. “I know I dragged you into this rather quickly.”

Arthur decided to be honest with him. “Well, I was gonna visit Mary, actually. She’s in the region right now, and wanted to see me before she left. But it’s like you said, we got a job to do first.”

Dutch approached Belle-Dame, unhitching her from the post. “Mary’s in Harlow?”

“Not Harlow,” he corrected. “On a farm outside of it. She’s stayin’ there with her father and grandparents.”

“Ah. Well, tell you what -- we’ll just have a short chat with Benjamin, hear what updates he’s got for us, and afterwards, you can go on and see Mary. Sound good?”

Arthur mounted Abitha, readying himself for the ride. “Sounds good.”

Dutch smiled at him, climbing on top of his own horse. “Thank you for bein’ patient with me, Arthur. I know this process has been long, but we are gonna do this. We just gotta push a little bit more, and soon, that bank’ll be ours to pillage. Now, c’mon. Harlow awaits.”

~~~~~~~~~~

THE GALLOWS, HARLOW

Falling with a sudden drop, the criminal collapsed beneath the gallows’ surface and dangled morbidly in the air, causing the noose’s rope to go taut while the crowd watched in both horror and fascination.

Harlow was normally a peaceful town, and even prided itself on having such a low crime rate, but recently, things had changed for the worse... and everyone could feel it.

No one knew exactly where this feeling came from or why it was appearing so suddenly, but for the past couple of months, a peculiar sense of dread loomed over the town like a dark cloud that just wouldn’t leave.  

There were more thefts, more break-ins, more fights... and even more murders. The people of Harlow were either vanishing or dying one-by-one, and as a result, the entire town was on edge. Though, no one was quite as stressed as their beloved sheriff, Ronan Farley.

The man had the population of a small city depending on him. Harlow always looked to him for answers whenever things went wrong, and normally, he was able to provide.

With everything that was going on though, the sheriff was at a loss for words. Ronan truly had no idea why the town’s overall safety had deteriorated so quickly, and the possibilities of what could’ve been at the heart of all this made him shudder.

Farley had been dealing with outlaws for long enough to know that crimes like this didn’t just fall out of the sky. There was something bigger going on here. Something lurking in the shadows... but he couldn’t act on pure speculation alone.

If Ronan was going to get to the bottom of Harlow’s turbulent situation, he’d have to hope that the people responsible would expose themselves eventually. His hands were full enough as is, and without any proper evidence to conduct a thorough search, there was really nothing more he could do.

Farley’s hands were tied.

~~~~~~~~~~

A FEW MINUTES LATER

SHERIFF’S OFFICE

“That’s the third execution this week...” Deputy Leighton said with a discouraged sigh, gazing out the window. “What is happening to this town?”

Ronan removed his hat and placed it down on the desk, offering some reassurance to his friend.

“Keep it together, Andrew,” he reminded the young lawman. “This ain’t the first time we’ve dealt with this.”

“True,” the deputy conceded, “but lately, it just feels like... the wind’s shifted in Harlow. Like our luck’s run out. There are more criminals hangin’ from the gallows than there are bounties on our wall, and this idea that we can’t do our job as lawmen anymore is startin’ to propagate.”

Andrew took a seat at the desk, leaning back in exhaustion. “...Everything’s just a mess.”

Andrew Leighton was the youngest out of the four deputies, and also happened to be the newest, apart from Deputy Shaw. He had only been working with Ronan for about six months, whereas Buchanan and Sommer had been at the sheriff’s side for a couple of years.

Andrew was twenty-one years old, and in contrast to his fellow lawmen, carried a slightly more gullible demeanor to him, often making him a target.

He wasn’t naive, necessarily. Andrew had seen more than his fair share of violence in the past, but he had also been blessed with the curse of wanting to believe the best in people. He tried to maintain the idea that no man was truly evil, and that good nature was reflected in his appearance.

Leighton had a clean-shaven face, a pair of kind blue eyes, and a head of short blond hair that he always kept in a neat style. He wore a slate-blue Classic Frock coat on top of a white shirt and black vest, and adorned a black Paragon Town hat to go with his boots.

Sheriff Farley, on the other hand, sported a much rougher temperament. The hardy man had loose and short brown hair, a full beard, and a noticeably wounded look in his eyes. He was only in his late-thirties, but had a few extra wrinkles creasing his face due to all the stress and lack of sleep.

Ronan’s usual attire consisted of a somewhat weathered Gaucho hat, a dark-brown duster coat, and a scarlet-red vest that he wore on top of an opened white shirt. His boots were nothing fancy and bore no sort of design, but they were sturdy enough... sort of like the people he worked so hard to protect.

Gazing blankly at the empty jail cells, Andrew decided to put professionalism aside for a moment and posed a more colloquial question to Ronan, hoping to get his honest opinion.

“Hey, sheriff...” he said, “can I ask you something?”

“Of course.”

Andrew softened his voice a bit, not wanting to announce their conversation to anyone in the vicinity.

“...What d’you think is really goin’ on in Harlow?”

Ronan paused at the vagueness of the question, not entirely sure what Andrew was getting at.

“What do you mean?”

The deputy took a second to clarify. “The deaths, the disappearances, the sudden lack in morale... Harlow’s had its rough patches, sure, but nothing quite like this. You think it’s all just a coincidence?”

The sheriff didn’t crack his shell just yet. “Coincidence or not, we’ll get through it.”

Andrew didn’t buy it. “...With all respect, Ronan, I’ve known you long enough to know you’re not that dense. I’m sure you out of all people can sense something’s wrong in Harlow. Something that... we might not be ready for.”

Ronan took a seat across from Leighton, hoping to relax for just a second.

“It ain’t our job to speculate, Andrew. When there’s a problem, we’ll deal with it. But we can’t go searchin’ for trouble when we don’t even know what to look for.”

“I know,” the deputy agreed, “it’s just... I hate this feeling, y’know? This feeling of sittin’ around, not being able to help the folk ‘round here. Everyone’s worried that we’ve got a rough road ahead of us, and they expect us to solve all their problems, but... we can’t even do anything without solid proof. I suppose I just wish I could do more.”

Ronan leaned forward in his chair, resting his arms on the desk.

“You’ve got a good heart, Leighton, but we’re the last people this town needs to be gettin’ paranoid. Stay vigilant, and remember to use your head. If anything does happen to Harlow, it’s gonna need all of us to protect it.”

Andrew nodded in reassurance, deciding to drop the subject for now. “...You’re right, you’re right. I can’t go startin’ trouble when there might not even be any. I gotta keep my head on my shoulders. It’s just... it’s difficult when you don’t actually have a target to shoot at yet. But... you’re right. We’ll be okay.”

The deputy stood up from his seat and headed for the door, leaving Farley to his thoughts.

“...Anyway, thanks for listenin’ to me ramble, sheriff. I didn’t mean to put all that on you. You’re a rock for more people than you realize. I just hope I can repay you someday.”

Ronan’s expression remained flat, but it was still clear to Andrew that he appreciated the remark.

“You don’t owe me anything, Andrew.”

Opening the door with a firm pull, the deputy wasted no time in getting back to work and headed out into the open, only to stop in his tracks when he found someone blocking the doorway.

It was a woman. She was about ten years older than Andrew, and a head of black hair that had been tied into a loose bun.

The dress she was wearing appeared rather simple in terms of design, but it still carried an elegant shape regardless. The upper part was a soft shade of white, and the bottom had been dyed mahogany brown. As a way to top it all off though, the woman had also tied a yellow scarf around her neck, and let most of it hang off her back like a miniature cape.

The young deputy recognized her immediately upon seeing her, and gave her a brief greeting.

“Afternoon, Mrs. Farley.”

The woman smiled in response. “Hello, Mr. Leighton.”

Allowing Mrs. Farley to step in first, Andrew waited off to the side until she was in the office before finally making his way out, shutting the door closed behind him.

As for Ronan, the man got up from his desk almost as soon as he saw his wife and approached her, concerned about what she might be doing here.

“Annabelle? Is everything alright?”

“Yes,” she replied calmly, sensing her husband’s uneasiness. “Everything’s fine. I just wanted to check up on you. You haven’t been home much lately.”

Annabelle glanced out the window, lowering her head in fear as a grim expression spread across her face.

“I... heard about the execution today. That’s the third one this week, isn’t it? Or is it the fourth?” She let out a sigh. “I can never keep up. The days seem to blur together now with all these hangings. Are you... doin’ okay, Ronan? All of this pressure can’t be easy on you.”

Ronan sat on the desk’s surface, sliding a hand down his face.

“I’ll be honest, Annabelle. I’m... I’m worried.”

Annabelle stepped in front of him and gently held his hand, rubbing it in a comforting manner.

“Worried? About what?”

The sheriff gestured to the door. “Well, Andrew was talkin’ about this just before you came in, but... he feels like Harlow’s luck has run out. As if our time as a safe hamlet is over. And I’m inclined to agree with him.”

That sparked Annabelle’s interest. “Really? Why? Has somethin’ happened?”

Ronan shook his head. “Nothing in particular, but it don’t take a genius to see that Elijah, Curtis, and Suzanna’s murders are connected. Accordin’ to the evidence we found, they were three separate cases with three different killers -- and we hanged all of ‘em -- but... something just doesn’t feel right. Even after all that chaos, it feels incomplete.”

Annabelle took on a more steadfast tone. “Well, what do you think is happening? Forget the evidence. Forget what people are saying. What does your gut tell you?”

The sheriff fell silent for a moment, gathering his thoughts.

“...I think there’s more goin’ on here than we can see. I think somethin’ big is coming our way. I dunno what, or how, or even when... but I believe the true killer is still out there. The murders just seemed too similar. Too easy to solve. It all felt contrived to me, and I believe Harlow won’t be safe so long as the real murderer is still roamin’ about. I believe it’s gonna get a whole lot worse before it gets better.”

The woman furrowed her brows in anxiety, mindlessly tightening her grip.

“...You’re frightening me, Ronan.”

The man snapped out of his suspicions for the time being and put them aside, bringing a loving hand up to Annabelle’s face.

“I’m... I’m sorry, darling. I didn’t mean to scare you. Things have just been tense around Harlow these past couple of months. I guess I needed to get that off my chest more than I realized. But don’t you worry. I’ll be home tonight. Before you go to bed.

Annabelle beamed at that, afterwards pecking a kiss on Ronan’s cheek. “Good. I miss you.”

The sheriff chuckled softly at that. “I miss you too.”

Mrs. Farley took a step back, still grinning from their conversation. “Well, I’ll let you go now. I’m sure you have many things to attend to. Just... be careful, okay? Harlow needs you now more than ever. And so do I.”

Ronan nodded firmly. “I will. The same goes for you.”

“Of course.”

Annabelle wandered closer to the door, offering some last-minute advice to the troubled sheriff before she left.

“These are strange times, Ronan. The only way we’re gonna get through them is with each other. Don’t forget that.”

~~~~~~~~~~

A WHILE LATER

THE BLUE BRONCO SALOON, HARLOW

Sitting on top of a barrel, Arthur avidly sketched in silence while Dutch slowly paced around in boredom as the two of them stayed patiently behind Harlow’s saloon, waiting for Benjamin to turn up.

It had been quite a long time ever since Arthur last saw Ben. The man visited their camp occasionally to keep Dutch updated on things, but Arthur couldn’t remember the last time he and Ben actually sat down together and just... talked.

He wondered what he looked like now. What he was doing. How he was getting on.

Sure, Ben wasn’t always the nicest man, or even the most righteous, but as strange as it sounded, that was one of the reasons why Arthur liked him. To him, it made Ben seem to more genuine.

He may not have always been the most eloquent with his words, and sometimes he straight-up tried to avoid people, but Arthur knew that deep down, Ben never worried about hiding behind some sort of pretense.

He said what he meant, and he meant what he said, so there was never any doubt whenever Benjamin expressed his thoughts. Ironically though, he was the one Dutch chose to act as somebody else.

Arthur didn’t know why Dutch thought he’d be the best person to work as a mole. Ben never struck him as somebody to go undercover like this, but despite Arthur’s concerns, Dutch seemed to have no skepticism surrounding Benjamin’s capabilities. According to him, he was the “perfect” man for the job.

Arthur just hoped everything would turn out okay. The gang had worked so hard and for so long to get this robbery done, that for something to go wrong now would’ve been a major setback.

The folks back at camp were nervous enough about robbing a bank for the first time, and Arthur didn’t even wanna think about the chaos that would ensue if their plan failed.

It was like Thomas said. They only had once chance to get this right, and there was no room for impulse. They needed to focus.

“Whatcha workin’ on there, cowboy?” Dutch asked, making Arthur pause mid-sketch.

“Drawing.” The boy answered simply.

His companion smirked. “Oh? Drawing what?”

Arthur shrugged. “...Things.”

“That so? What kinda things?”

The young man gestured aimlessly at their surroundings, admittedly somewhat shy to talk about it. “Y’know, stuff. That we see. Horses, people, trees.”

Dutch chortled humorously at that. “Oh, okay.”

Arthur sighed. “Look, it ain’t nothin’ fancy, alright? I just do it when I’m bored.”

The other man’s grin only grew wider at his annoyance. “Well, please, don’t let me disturb you. Carry on with drawing your... ‘things.”

The young outlaw mentally groaned to himself, returning to his work.

Just before he could start sketching again however, a third person walked into the scene, causing both of them to divert their attention.

“Gentlemen.” Benjamin Shaw greeted flatly, strolling in their direction.

Benjamin was a scraggly-looking man with sunken cheeks due to his growing addiction to alcohol, and displayed a collection of small scars on his face, the most prominent one being a thin, horizontal gash that sat just above his left brow.

As for his hair, it was chocolate-colored and reached long enough to touch his shoulders. In terms of style though, the strands were rather tangled and messy, and his facial hair wasn’t anymore tame.

Benjamin had nothing more than a prickly layer of scruff sticking to his jawline, but there was a slim gap in his mustache from another scar that sliced downwards across his mouth.

On the topic of clothes though -- at the moment, Benjamin was wearing a black Collar Overshirt with a hickory-colored leather jacket that made his badge stand out like a beacon in the night, and he adorned a dark pair of trousers as well as some Sleeked Riding boots to match the Stalker hat that he always wore.  

Overall, he looked pretty much the same compared to when Arthur last saw him, and that made the young man happy.

“There you are!” Dutch replied excitedly. “How the hell are you, my boy?”

Benjamin didn’t appear to return the enthusiasm. If anything, he looked exhausted.

“I feel like shit and I look like shit, but I got some information you might be interested in, Dutch. Though, it ain’t all good news, I’m afraid.”

Dutch’s expression dimmed instantly at the news. “Straight to the point, I see. Very well, then. What is it?”

Benjamin lowered his voice. “Well, the good news is I think we’ll be able to hit the bank soon. Ronan and his deputies trust me. It took some convincing, believe me, but they finally see me as one of their own.”

“Extremely well done, Ben. I knew you was the right feller for this job. When do you think we’ll be able to rob the bank?”

The “deputy” thought for a minute. “Give me... one more week. I’ll be able to get things rollin’ by then.”

Dutch switched to a more serious tone. “Just one more week? Are you certain? We don’t wanna rush this.”

Benjamin insisted. “I’m certain. I’ve got the whole town on edge with a string of recent crimes, and tensions are startin’ to build. Now is the time to do this. If we wait too long, this may not work.”

The other man nodded in understanding. “Okay, then. I trust your judgement. One more week and then we’ll finally hit this goddamn bank. I’ll let the people back at camp know. Now... what’s the bad news?”

Shaw leaned in a bit more, making sure that no one else could hear them.

“I did some investigatin’ into Sheriff Farley, and it turns out, that ain’t even the man’s real name.”

“What?” Dutch questioned, taken aback. “Then what the hell is it?”

Benjamin was quiet for a second, almost like he was worried to see his friend’s reaction.

“O’Driscoll.”

Arthur’s eyes popped wide open. “You’re shittin’ me. The sheriff of this town is an O’Driscoll?”

“Not just any O’Driscoll,” Ben clarified. “He’s Colm’s older brother.”

Dutch’s face scrunched into a glower. “How d’you know this?”

“I overheard Ronan and his wife talkin’ about it,” Benjamin explained. “Apparently, he changed his name to ‘Farley’ many years ago ‘cause he didn’t wanna be associated with the O’Driscolls no more. Sounds to me like he and Colm didn’t get along.”

“So, he’s not working with the gang?” Arthur asked.

“No. I don’t think so. Ronan’s got a strong hatred for outlaws. I highly doubt he’d ever work with them.”

“Still,” Dutch added, “it’s something to think about. When we first arrived at New Aubertin, Thomas told me there had been rumors of the O’Driscolls being in this region. If Colm’s got any affection left for his brother, and he finds out what we’re doing -- we need to be extra careful from here on out.”

“Agreed.”

“Well,” Dutch said, heading back to his horse, “I’m gonna return to camp. Let ‘em know about the plan. In the meantime, Arthur will help you out with that job you mentioned. Stay safe, you two. And keep a low profile. We’re this close to robbin’ that bank. We ain’t botching it now.”

Taking his leave, Dutch removed himself from the saloon’s vicinity and rode back to camp like a bat out of hell, eager to deliver the good news to the gang as the sun steadily began to set.

Meanwhile, Arthur stayed behind with Benjamin and simply remained seated on his barrel while the other man found a comfortable spot next to him, leaning against the saloon’s wall in a casual manner.

“So...” Arthur began, “what was that job you had for me?”

Ben took off his hat, wiping some of the sweat off his forehead. “There was no job.”

The young man raised a brow. “What? So why’d you ask Dutch to bring me here?”

“Because you’re one of the few people I like to talk to, and I need a break from this mess.” Benjamin quickly lit a cigarette, offering one to Arthur. “Anyway... how’ve you been? Things goin’ good at camp?”

Arthur took the cigarette and waited for Ben to light it, continuing the conversation. “As good as they can be. I’m plannin’ to visit Mary later. Apparently, she’s in the region.”

The other man’s face sagged with obvious disapproval. “Ms. Gillis is here?”

“Yes. You mean to tell me you still don’t like her?”

Benjamin put out the match. “It ain’t that simple, Arthur. Mary’s a sweet girl -- I ain’t suggestin’ otherwise. I just don’t know how serious she is about marrying you.”

Arthur couldn’t deny that he struck a nerve. “What do you mean by that? She said yes, didn’t she?”

“Well yeah, but how long before that dusty, old shithead father of hers gets in the way? You really think he'll have no influence on Mary? He’s already tryin’ to put your head on a pike as it is.”

The young man let out a cloud of smoke. “Mary loves me, Ben. And I love her. Nothing’s separatin’ us. Besides, what her father does ain’t her fault. I really don’t understand why you and Grimshaw dislike her so much. ”

Benjamin sighed in defeat. “We’re just lookin’ out for you, Arthur. You’re a good man. Much better than a lot of us. We don’t wanna see you get hurt. But... if you trust her, then I guess it wouldn’t hurt if I did too. Just don’t expect me to weclome her with open arms anytime soon.”

Arthur picked up on Benjamin’s agitated tone, suddenly worried about his friend’s well-being. This wasn’t just about Mary... was it?

“Hey...” he said, speaking more softly, “r’you good, Ben? I mean, you’ve always been an angry bastard, but you seem especially irritated today. What’s goin’ on?”

Thinking to himself for a moment, the deputy remained quiet and ignored Arthur’s question as he thought about what to say next, clearly conflicted about something.

It was unusual for Ben to be so reserved. He wasn’t a social butterfly by any means, but... even then, this sort of behavior was odd for him. Normally, he’d crack a joke or two -- maybe throw in a hint of sarcasm here and there, but today, he was completely serious.

It made Arthur suspect that this whole job was having more of a toll on Benjamin than anyone in the gang truly understood. Dutch did kind of force him into this, after all, and Arthur really had no idea what sort of experiences Ben was going through in order to get the gang where they were now.

Arthur just hoped that Ben wasn’t angry with him personally. It was no secret that Dutch favored the young man over anyone else in the gang, and part of Arthur couldn’t help but feel as if that was what got him out of doing this job, despite the fact that Hosea originally planned to send him or Thomas.

Just what was going on?

“...Y’know what, Arthur,” Benjamin finally said, sounding far more drained than before, “I won’t lie to you. These past two months with Ronan and his men... they’ve opened my eyes to some things. Things that... that make me question everything I’ve done in my life.”

Arthur turned to face him. “What d’you mean?”

Shaw looked at him with a guilt-ridden gaze, taking a drag on his cigarette.

“...I’ve done some terrible stuff throughout the years, Arthur. Stuff that even you don’t know about. I’ve hurt people like it was nothing, killed others for the sake of money, and even turned my back on a few folks who loved me just like you and Dutch do. But... after workin’ with Farley, I’m not sure that’s the man I wanna be anymore.”

Arthur quirked a brow at the statement. “Wait, are you sayin’ you wanna become a lawman for real?”

“Not a lawman,” Ben corrected, “but I dunno if I’m gonna be returning to the gang after this robbery. I’m thinkin’ of maybe going my own way. Starting a different life with the money we take, while I still have the chance. I’m... I’m sorry, Arthur. I probably should’ve said something sooner.”

The young man protested. “You can’t leave, Ben. We need you in this gang. Not only are you one of the best people we’ve had, you’re also my friend. It wouldn’t be the same without you.”

Benjamin flipped the subject to him. “And what about you? You’re gonna be a husband soon, Arthur. Possibly even be a father someday. You can’t stay in this life forever. It’s gotta be left behind eventually if you wanna be there for your family.”

Arthur felt admittedly somewhat cornered by the response.

“I-I know. And I’ll leave it behind when the time comes, but I still owe it to Dutch to stick with him throughout this whole thing. He saved my life. Yours, too. You’ve said it yourself.”

“Yeah, but my life wasn’t worth savin’ when he first found me. I wanna make sure that it is before I go.”

Somewhat overwhelmed by Benjamin’s sudden confession, Arthur gave the man nothing but a concerned gaze in response and simply sat there with a cigarette in his hand, watching the smoke dance from its tip as it slowly burned away.

Meanwhile, Benjamin threw his to the ground and swiftly stubbed it out with his boot, marking the end of their conversation.

“Do me a favor, Arthur,” he said before returning to his work. “Don’t become the same man I was. When the time comes, make sure you do what’s right.”

Arthur wasn’t sure how to take that advice. “It ain’t always that easy, Ben.”

“I never said it would be easy,” he countered. “In fact, it’s probably gonna be a goddamned nightmare before any of this blows over... but it’ll be worth it. So long as you do the right thing. Remember that.”

With that being said, Benjamin walked off into the busier parts of town just as more people started pouring out of the different establishments around Harlow, ready to go back home for the evening.

He threw a casual wave over his shoulder, saying one last goodbye.

“Take care of yourself, Arthur. Lord only knows what the future holds.”

[weaselle]

Dead Earth 3rd installment

Ringer had killed a couple men back in Quorum, and that was the problem. Quorum was pretty rough and tumble; those men he shot were mean and tough, and he figured it made him a real bad hombre.

He was tall and slim, and he fancied himself a gunfighter, wearing a pistol in a shoulder rig and another in a holster tucked into the back of his belt. Somewhere along the way he had joined up with Daily, a big beefy man who loved to hit things with his fists, and the two of them pretty much thought they were the toughest dudes to ever live. Geo, a smallish young man, was impressed by them, and latched onto the pair.

Breen only had two other crew members: Cee W., a copilot he’d met on a night the young man was fed up with his previous employer, and Hanah, an old ship hand who kept to herself, knew how to do her job and everyone else’s too. Breen’s ship The Grabbyelle was already warming it’s engines for take off by the time Ringer, Daily, and Geo showed up, late as usual.  

“They’re on, Cap’n” Hannah’s voice sounded in Breen’s ear.

“Lift it” Breen told Cee W.. Once they were on course, he turned over control to his copilot and called a crew meeting in the galley. Hex and Jackal would be there, Cee W. would listen in on the com.

_____________________________________________________________________

Breen did a double take as he entered the galley and saw Hex. She was wearing a kind of business suit in crimson and black, with plenty of gold jewelry, somehow managing to look like both a CEO and a pirate -- the pirate effect highlighted by the nine inch blade strapped to her left thigh and a long wool coat draped over her shoulders like a cloak. Jackal was beside her in similar if less flashy garb. His large foxy ears were plainly visible through a brimmed hat with two holes for them, but looked at first glance like they might be part of it, like feathers stuck in the hatband. Wearing a vest and no jacket, he had a sort of short staff slung across his back. It was the least number of visible weapons Breen had seen on them yet.

When Ringer and Daily came in trailing Geo behind them, Hex and Jackal had their interest right away. Ringer leaned insolently against a counter eyeballing Jackal, and Daily walked over and lewdly ran his eyes up and down Hex.

“Well well, Captain, what have you brought us?” Ringer said, looking at Jackals ears, then glancing at Hex. “Pets? Are they house trained?” Jackal’s eyes narrowed a little, and one ear flicked. “What do think Daily, she got a tail hidden away behind her? Aww, what am I sayin’, you probably don’t care if she’s human or not”

“Shut up, Ringer” Daily said flatly, leaving his eyes on Hex.

“You’re out of line, Ringer” said Breen, with more confidence than he felt, “You too, Daily, back off! Don’t be rude to our clients” Daily lingered a second, then moved to sit at the table with Hannah and Geo.

“Oh clients!” said Ringer, bowing sarcastically “So sorry, I didn’t realize.”  Suddenly ignoring Hex and Jackal, he dropped into a chair and faced Breen, who also sat.  “What’s the job?”

Before he could answer, Hex said “I’ve hired this ship and its crew to retrieve something of mine. A box my uncle left me.”

“We need a whole ship for that?” said Geo skeptically “Must be a big-ass box”

“Not so big,” said Hex, as Jackal brought her a mug of black caff and sat at the table, “it’s not the size, it’s the location. I hope you all are ready for a rough time -- we’re going down to the Old World.”

Well, they didn’t like to hear that, and with good reason. The Lunar Colonies had been established close to 200 years ago, and the Earth had been considered a dead and dangerous planet for most of that time. Oh, there were things living on it, but it mostly wasn’t a fit place for people to live. Some did anyway, such were the ways of humans, to claw existence from the barest chance of survival. They lived amid the wreckage left by a combination of environmental disaster and global warfare, an apocalyptic  wilderness considered uninhabitable by most of what was left of humanity. Many of those left on the planet were either genetically altered or cybernetically augmented, the progeny of laboratory creations during the last, war-torn decades of a fully populated Earth.

Called derogatory names like “grader” “shifter” “alter” and “mutie” (slurs short for upgraded, gene-shifted, altered, and mutant) people with cybernetic or genetic enhancements were not welcome in the lunar colonies. First generation Upgraded and Gene-shifted entities had been designed for war and terror, often mimicking horror story creatures such as vampires and zombies, or housing weaponry and programing for battle and assassination. Not just people, there were many human-created animals, some of which were quite intelligent. And there were micro-organisms and nanobots still swarming the planet, as well. When a last large-scale evacuation had finally been implemented, the Planetary Evacuation and Transfer Agency had screened for and denied entry to all Enhanced Beings, a policy meant to prevent “infecting” the supposed purity of the Lunar Colonies.

“I shoulda known a couple of damn shifters would try to get us down the well” said Daily, referring to the gravity well created by the planet. “Like hell I want to go there, full of vampires and borgs and nano-mites and who knows what.”

“That box of your uncle’s must have something worth a whole lot of money in it for you to hire a ship and land on that death rock,” mused Ringer. “What’s our share?”

Hex looked at him coldly “Whatever worth that box has is only valuable to me. There’s nothing in there for you. What you get is a working ship in operation, with its dock fees paid off and plenty of food and water, and your normal crew rates.”

Ringer scowled and looked over at Breen “That right, Captain? We working for zero percent of the haul? Doesn’t seem fair, that.”

“Can’t make money on a ship with empty tanks and unpaid dock fees, Ringer. I saw a chance and I took it. You’re getting paid your crew rate. Sometime in the next few hauls maybe we’ll find something that’ll earn you a nice bonus. Meanwhile, eat up, sleep tight, do your job, and draw your normal pay.”

“I don’t like it at all,” Ringer replied “and I know Daily and Geo don’t either. How ‘bout you, Hannah? You want to go down to Old Earth? Getting old to try that kind of environment, aren’t you? And I bet you don’t like to work a run and not get a percentage”

Hannah, never impressed by Ringer and his friends, shrugged “You ever shipped out on one of those big ol’ EA astroid miners? They charge you for room and board the whole time you’re on the ship, gotta pay it out of whatever you manage to mine while you’re out in The Black. If you don’t find enough ore to pay your bill, you don’t get to leave the ship when it docks, gotta head back out on the next run and hope your luck is better. Plenty of them miners never manage to get free, spend the rest of their lives working for that EA mining corp, never see a single kuai in their bank account. This here’s not my favorite deal, but it’s a deal, and a better one than I’ve had from some. Captain says we might get something extra later on, then I expect there’s a good chance of that, he ain’t lied to us yet.”

Hannah grinned nastily at the lanky troublemaker, “As for taking a trip down the well, you don’t worry me none with that talk, Ringer, what with you never even breathed the Old World air. You might be surprised to know I actually been down there before, an’ I ain’t so old I can’t go again. What’s more, I’m twice as likely to make it back as you are yourself, and that’s facts. That there planet eats up men think they’re tough like you, just plain eats ‘em right up; why, you oughta be scared more than you are, really.”

“Scared?” Ringer was outraged. “You keep talking, grannie,” Ringer bit out, “I’ll show you who’s tough”

“Alright, that’s enough,” said Breen, “In 52 hours we’ll be landing. It’s a dangerous world, but we’re just making a pick up, and taking off. No reason for everybody to get all wound up. Now you’ve heard the job, and that’s how it is. Everybody back to work. Hex, I’d like to speak to you on the bridge at your convenience” and with that, he walked out.

Daily stood up, looking at Hex, “How ‘bout it, lady, you want to come see me in my quarters when you’re done with the captain, I’ll show you a real man.”

“That’d be nice” said Hex, “I been looking for a real man since I got here.”

“Oh yeah?” said Daily, grinning lustily.

“Yeah,” said Hex, wryly, running her eyes slowly up and down Daily “and I haven’t seen one yet” and turned her back and left.

“Fucking bitch!” Daily exclaimed and leapt up to follow, but suddenly Jackal was face to face with him, fangs bared, staff out with the tip resting against Daily’s chest, stopping him. Ringer put his hand to his gun, but Jackal said “Daily dies if you do, Ringer. Daily, you better call off your buddy if you want to live. You know what a bangstick is?”

Off to one side, Hannah chuckled. “You boys sure went knocking on the wrong door. Better go easy there, Ringer. Bangstick is a compression gun, Daily, in case you don’t know. Just a pipe with a round loaded in, usually shotgun shell -- you jab it against anything and it hits the pin, fires the round. You’re mighty close to having a big hole right through you, boy.”

“That’s exactly right,” said Jackal “and your pal Ringer there could make me nervous, with his hand on his gun like that.”

“Let’s go, Ringer,” said Daily, slowly, “this is a bad start to a fight. We can pick a better time and finish it.”

“Anytime at all, cabronés,” said Jackal, as Ringer took his hand away from his holster and Daily backed away. “You try it anytime you want”.

Daily and Ringer left.

Hannah looked at Jackal. “You remind me of some folks. You ever ship with any of the Old Fleet?”

Jackal grinned at her and winked, touched the brim of his hat and left.

Hannah whistled soundlessly and looked across the table at Geo. “Kid, I never liked those two you hang out with, but you seem okay, so I’ll give you some good advice for free. If they go after these two, you just let them go and do it without you, I’d hate to see you killed. That there was a Galloglas, or I’m Queen of the Moon.”

Geo wrinkled his brow at her. “What in the diyu is a Galloglas?”

“You ever hear of the Old Fleet?” Geo shook his head at her. “The Council of Captains?” Geo shook his head again. “Well, you know how Sol Union got started?” Geo shrugged. “Por su madré, what all are they teaching people these days?” she said, “Well okay then, listen up, I guess this here is story time.”

“Back in the day, the Old Fleet was called the Station Supply Fleet, or the Service Fleet. A handful of giant ships created to service the seven space stations.

Life on these stations was secretive even back then, and from the beginning, their smaller populations tended to have a lot of brains and be in the top of their field. Then those folks raised a few generations of children who were certainly very, very smart, even if no one has ever proved they’ve been genetically enhanced to be extra intelligent, as rumor says.

Those stations, whole little worlds unto themselves, were busy developing goods and services in their areas of specialty -- those things they still produce, like robotics, medical research and narcotics, specialized food production, entertainment. But that wasn’t all they developed while floating around out in The Black. They also developed their own ways of life.

Sort of the same way, the Service Fleet was making their own cultures too. Most of those ships were crewed by several hundred men and women on back to back between-station journeys that could take three years or more each trip, and they naturally started their own way of living.

So anyway, it wasn’t long before the stations began to have differing opinions about what the law should be on-station. Different from each other, a bit, and very different than the governments that thought they controlled them.

More and more those opinions disagreed with the opinions of Earth and the Lunar colonies, and when one of those disagreements came to a head on Station Delta, the old Space Command  found out very quickly that one of the things all the stations had in common was an opinion that attempts at military boarding and take-over of a station would not be tolerated.

The long and short of it was, the few surviving members of the Lunar Military incursion team wound up reporting that yes, the extremely intelligent people of Station Delta had, in fact, thought to engineer quite well against armed intrusion. Planetary authorities were further caught with their pants down when the seven stations of Sol System immediately unionized and seceded en mass, announcing themselves an alliance of self-governing bodies. Looking back, they had to have been planning it for a while, secretive messages going back and forth in the dark for years. Anyway, that’s how Sol Union was born.

The days-old Sol Union then gave the Supply Fleet that serviced them an offer, which was simply: join us.

Now those ships relied heavily on those stations to supply and refuel. There was no way to land them on the Moon or on Old Earth, they were designed to dock with the stations. And I imagine a lot of those ships didn’t care for being ordered around by government folks who didn’t know what life in the Fleet was like, most of who’d never even served on board any ship at all.

On each ship of the Fleet, decisions were made about the Sol Union offer. On some ships, there were votes. On other ships arguments were more pointed. Explosive, even. Two ships were lost entirely.

In the end, the Council of Captains was formed (some of whom were very new to their captaincy indeed). They defined each ship as an autonomous entity, and unanimously offered an alliance with the Sol System Union, simultaneously offering Earth and the Lunar Colonies a peace-treaty with trade agreements. Once the Sol Union signed that alliance with the Council of Captains, there wasn't really any choice for Terran or Lunar governments; the station labs produced a lot of the best goods and technology: medical equipment and vaccines, personal electronics, as well as widely enjoyed arts and entertainment- that last bit was particularly tricky for Space Command to get around. It was extremely difficult to keep the support of the citizenry when the 'enemy' was so damned popular.

But mostly it was that the ships of the Fleet were almost all of the serious space-craft humanity had made up til then. There was no space navy, nor any kind of second fleet to provide shipping. In effect, the rebel Union, while refusing to trade any of their products with Terra, had agreed to sell to the Fleet, who was offering to sell those things to the Earth and Moon. And buy goods from them to sell to Sol Union, of course. Neither Terra nor Luna could afford to refuse, and indeed, the Delta Solar Treaty worked well for all concerned. Still does.

Now, one of those ships, the captain was a woman named Reilly Galloglas. Nobody is sure how or where, but her crew started buying or building smaller ships. They spread out some. Some of them turned Pirate. Some of them started raiding Earth, scavenging and selling black market goods. Some of them even left off shipping out and worked security for a station here and there, or started a business. Mostly they’re one big family, even if distantly related. They’ll adopt long time crew members, and I’ve heard tell some people marry into the family. But they never take in or keep anybody who doesn’t live up to their standards, born in or not. And there are three things you have to know about them Galloglas folk.

First, they’re honest and honorable, even if half of ‘em are criminals and pirates. I mean they might steal all your money, but they won’t lie about it, they’ll keep any promise they make, and they’ll only kill someone who’s armed and facing them. Second, they’re a hard, dangerous, deadly folk. They don’t run from a fight, you can believe it; there’s just no back up to ‘em. And third, they are loyal as fuck. They mostly handle their own business, but gods help anyone who backshoots one, or gets one too outgunned and they have to call for reinforcements.

I only ever heard one time it happened. ‘Bout sixty years ago, the Theta Station Mining Co. had a difficulty with one, and blew her ship up while she was on station talking to them about it. They musta figured to strand her there, or something. I don’t know if they realized that little ship had her husband and kids on it, but she sure made sure they knew it by the end. Every Galloglas near got involved, and that right there is why there’s only six stations left in Sol Union. The rest of them stations looked at shrapnel left where the station had been, checked their options, and allowed as how Theta had fucked up and got what they deserved. They sorta buried the whole story and moved on quick. They surely didn’t want to push the issue with that Galloglas crew. I reckon if it came to it, they’d all of them show up, and I don’t see how there could be less than 500 of them Galloglases, maybe two or three times that number, a bunch of ‘em with their own ships, and every one a demon in a fight.”

Son,” Hannah looked into Geo’s eyes, “you take an old lady’s advice, tell your friends to lay off - them two are a lot more trouble than Ringer and Daily can handle”

“I will Hannah, thanks” said Geo. And a couple hours later, he did.

But the problem was, Ringer had killed a couple men back in rough and tumble Quorum, and he figured it made him a real tough guy.