#sat with a pillar and a bucket

[afro-artistry-chronicles]

Assise avec un pilon et un seau (2023)

Sat with a pillar and a bucket

Victorien Bazo

[lyrefromthesea]

HEYYY IIDK IFHOU TAKE REQUEST BUTTTT HOW WOULD THE HASHIRA REACT TO A HYPER ENERGETIC READER WHO IS ONE SECOND DOING 1 THINK THEN THE NEXT A NEW THING LIKE THEY COULD BE PAINTING AND THE NEXT SKY DIVING

I love your writing style hehe

Male pillars x Reader - the art of being too energetic

author's note: i hope this request is to your liking. truthfully, i had trouble writing it at some points.

pairing: Tengen x reader, Obanai x reader, Rengoku x reader, Sanemi x reader, Giyuu x reader, Gyomei x reader

content warning: none

Tengen:

where were you now? he swore you had been standing next to him a few moments ago. he looked around the streets, trying to spot you.

did you see a demon and moved forward without him? no, he would've heard it. he looked around the dark streets, not taking long to figure out where you went.

his feet dragged him towards the festival down the street. the area was filled with lamps and people wearing the prettiest kimonos or yukatas.

yet none of them stole his attention away from what mattered. you. you were in the middle of the crowd of dancing people. you spun around in fluid motions, a smile plastered on your face.

if it hadn't been for your uniform, you would've fitted right in. he moved forward without thinking, his hand soon grasping yours.

"now what were you thinking? we've been walking through the empty streets just a few seconds ago!" he said, his lips tugging up into a smile.

"couldn't resist, the music drew me in!" you laughed, twirling around him. he followed, both of you now dancing in sync. you didn't care for the eyes staring at the two of you. "are you mad?"

"you're too flamboyant to be mad at."

Obanai:

Obanai had been sitting on a tree, lazily watching you train. he didn't have anything better to do and you enjoyed his presence. however, when he looked down, you weren't training next to his tree anymore.

he looked to the side, flinching when you sat right next to him. "[name]!" he called out, looking at you surpised. he gave you a questioning look, waiting for your explanation.

"i found this." you answered, showing him a small acorn - or rather the rest of it. he looked at the cupule, you held it up by it's stem.

"and..?" he asked, still confused. it wasn't surprising to see you change your mood so quickly, but he found himself confused every time. especially now when you looked at Kaburamaru.

"and this!" you said, offering the snake to slither onto your arm. Kaburamu listened and Obanai watched in anticipation. the snake trusted you, just like Obanai did.

the cupule you held in hand was carefully placed on Kaburamaru's head, slowly pulling away to not knock it down. you blinked a few times and then looked at Obanai.

"it's a little hat! what do ya think?" you asked enthusiastically.

Obanai's eyes wandered between you and Kaburamaru, then back at you. "it's great. you should find him a scarf too."

"you're right!"

Rengoku:

"little flame? darling?!" he called out your name, desperately trying to find you. he had been sitting in the living room when he noticed the odd smell of smoke.

he had been worried sick, trying to find the source. his eyes widened upon seeing the clouds of smoke leaving your shared kitchen. however, when he ran inside, he was even more confused.

"darling..?" he asked, tilting his head to the side to get a better look at you. he could barely see it through all the fug, but he figured you were standing next to the stove.

when he came closer, he saw you more clearly - you were holding a bucket in your hand. his eyes fixed on the stove, hearing it sizzle quietly. it was wet and still slightly hot. he couldn't make out what had been in the pan, but it was burnt now.

"oh, Kyojuro!" you gasped, looking at the man. you hadn't heard him before. your eyes followed his gaze, your face growing red when you looked at the stove.

"i wanted to cook something, but then i remembered this book from a few years ago. i'm sure i had it somewhere around-" you babbled, stopping when you looked at him again.

you had expected him to be mad for nearly burning the whole house down, but he didn't look angry in the slightest. he took the bucket out of your hands instead, placing it to the side.

"let's clean this up first, we can search for the book later." he simply said, his motivated stance not leaving. you agreed, cleaning the kitchen together.

you only stopped when he suddenly spoke again, leaving you baffled.

"you know, i once burned my family's house down when i was smaller."

Sanemi:

Sanemi looked at you, your eyes staring back into his. his gaze hardened, daring you to move further.

"don't do it." he grumbled, his hands ready to grab you in an instant. if someone would've walked into the room, they would've surely questioned your sanity.

"i'm going to do it." you answered, giving him a mischevious smirk. his eyes narrowed, his body tensing up.

you had found a new hobby a few days ago, which happened to involve him. now he gave you his undivided attention when you were acting strange or gave him a knowing look.

in the blink of an eye you turned around and jumped backwards, Sanemi reacting immediately. he made sure to catch you in his arms, stopping you from falling and hitting the ground.

he let out an annoyed sigh, having caught you. again. he didn't even remember how many times it had been this week. "stop doing that!"

"you know you love it" you chirped, giving him a triumphing smile. he rolled his eyes, letting go of you.

but you were right, he did love it.

Giyuu:

"i want wagashi." you said, tugging at Giyuu's sleeve. normally, your request would've been completely fine, but now he was looking at you in disbelief.

"what?" he asked, stopping in his tracks. you came to a halt next to him, repeating what you've just said. "i want to eat wagashi."

he was at a loss of words. you had asked for daifuku nearly ten minutes ago. he had been walking to your favourite shop with you since then, knowing it would make you the happiest.

"we would have to walk in the opposite direction." he remarked, giving you a questioning stare. you blinked at him a few times, as if you were waiting for his answer.

he would've said no to anyone else, but he was used to your impulsive behavior. he couldn't explain why you made decision the way you did, but he thought of it as refreshing. he sighed, turning around on his feet.

"let's buy you some wagashi."

Gyomei:

"can i move now?" he asked. he had been sitting under the waterfall for about thirty minutes now. you had asked him to paint a picture of the moment, which he found himself agreeing to.

however, he hadn't heard anything from you since over fifteen minutes, making him question what was going on. the cold water of the waterfall hitting his back overshadowed most of the other sounds around him, but he managed to hear you stand up.

"Gyomei, i'm so sorry!" you apologized profusely, running towards the waterfall. he heard the splashs over your body pushing the water around you away, eventually feeling your hand pull on his.

"i completely forget about the painting. there was a cat and-" you stopped when you felt his head turn towards yours. you looked at him, wondering what could've made him forget about your mistake.

"a cat?" he asked, feeling you change the direction you were pulling him. it wasn't your strength to keep attention on one thing, but he couldn't care less.

besides, he shared your fascination over cats.

[kabr0ztrousers]

dubcon/noncon scenario, fem!reader on a wildlife sightseeing tour in Africa, getting separated from her tour group and fucked silly by a group of humanoid crocodilians (they’re bigger and stronger than her, chubby, and have cocks bigger than anything she has ever taken), and the tour group doesn’t notice her absence and leaves without her, so nobody’s coming to rescue her from her captors (or their numerous friends that they share her with)

Wow, re-reading this prompt, I may need to add it to my "revisit in case of emergency" list, because what shook out doesn't quite fit... Having said that, here's

Kabr0z Writes episode 87: Crocodilian

Find the rest of the Kabr0z Writes anthology here!

CWs: noncon; kidnap; oral sex; group sex

A/N: All hail Sobek! Lord of semen!

Having said that, I realise that my Egyptian geography is about 2000 years out of date. So expect some weirdness with that

#######################################

Kayaking up the Nile. It's been on your bucket list for years, and now you're finally here. You'd already ticket Alexandria off the list, then Cairo, Luxor and and now you're on the way South to Heirakonpolis, hitting all the important bronze age archaeology on the way to Abu Simbel.

Of course, you'd left the glittering cities behind in the Nile delta. This far south the riverbanks fade between farmlands and overgrown nature. You'd learned the hard way that farmers aren't keen on random tourists portaging their boats and pitching their tents on their land, so you found some relatively solid ground to drag your kayak onto, set up the pop-up tent in your pack and crawled into your sleeping bag,

You woke to a tearing sound, the thin canopy of the tent rent open. Three men stood over you, crocodile-headed and well-built. Each had a spear in one hand, a shield in the other. You went to scream. The butt of a spear hit you in the head, and you were silenced.

A cold stone floor beneath you. Shadows flickered on massive sandstone blocks, cast from flames you could hear in the corners of the room. You tried to look without being spotted, turning your head ever so slightly. One of the men noticed you. He yelled something. You don't know what he said, you'd never even heard that language before. Two sets of footsteps echoed down the hall, hurrying towards you. Strong hands lifted you, carrying you between two of the men as they walked.

Measured, perfectly drilled steps took you out of the room. The chamber you found yourself was huge. A ceiling at least thirty feet above you, held up by pillars as wide as a man is tall, decorated with fern leaf motifs. A statue stood at the end of the room, presiding over the altar you were being carried to. Twenty feet tall, at least. A man, tall and thin, in that way that Kemetic statues are. A tall crown sat atop the head of a crocodile. One hand clutched an ankh, the other a staff with topped with a feather.

Sobek.

Your mind raced. You weren't an expert on the Kemetic religion, but they were generally good natured gods. Human sacrifice is rare, normally it's bread or something related to the god's domain. Sobek was the god of the Nile, he dictated the ebb and flow of the yearly floods. There was something else as well, something you couldn't quite...

Oh. Yeah. That's how he controlled the floods. Legend has it that every year, Sobek would masturbate into the Nile, the river swelling with his semen. Indeed, in years where the flood was too low, the Pharaoh would ceremonially jack off into the river to try and appease him.

Suddenly, this all made a little too much sense.

The men lay you on the altar. You shivered from the sandstone under you, looking between the reptilian chin of the one above your head, and the maw of the one holding up your ankles, spreading you apart as his hips rubbed his cock against your pussy.

The one above you removed his loincloth, baring his cock to you. It hung over you, scaled and ridged. He pinched your nose, holding it shut as you tried not to breathe, not to give him the opportunity.

You failed. Instinct took over and your mouth opened to take a breath. It filled with cock instantly. You tried to bite down on it but he didn't seem to notice, the scaly skin unbothered by your teeth. He took it slow, crooning gently at you as he pushed himself into your mouth.

The other had finished rubbing himself against you, bracing his tip against your entrance as he leant gently on you. Your body let him in and you whined as every hard ridge and bump massaged the inside of your cunt.

It was like his cock was made for you, every move stimulated you in just the right way to raise goosebumps on your skin despite the tropical climate. You moaned slightly, the sound muffled by the cock in your mouth.

They both sped up, moving just out of sync so one pushed in a moment after the other. The third stepped up beside the altar, chanting to the god looming over you, cock erect and throbbing. His hands caressed you, one holding your right breast, rolling the nipple under his thumb, the other massaging your clit as his comrade fucked you without pause.

Your cunt clenched and wept, the sound of your arousal audible over the steady Kemetic chanting of the men. Your legs shook, one hand on your tits, the other holding the scaled wrist of the one in the middle. You bucked your hips against the cock in you, tongue rolling around the one in your mouth. Sticky precum coated your tongue as it worked on the length pistoning into your mouth. You drank it down, every gulp warming you.

The third one let go of your tit a moment, just long enough to guide your hand to his already dripping member. Your fingers closed around it, pulling him off in time with his chants.

The prayers grew in intensity. Every syllable brought you closer to your peak.

The cocks pulled out of you. All three pulsing over you, spurting hot cum as your hand rubbed your clit. You wailed in orgasm as the crocodile-men covered you in a stream of sacred cum, coating your skin, getting into your hair.

You fell back, exhausted, stroking the scales of the men standing over you.

Above you, an ancient god smiled

###############################################

Well. The next time I think to myself "I'll leave it here tonight and finish this part before I start my shift tomorrow" please slap me.

This won't interrupt regular posting, you'll get Episode 88 tonight, as scheduled. For now though, I'm playing some Stellaris.

[beckyninja]

Cleanse

Pairing: Demetrian Titus x FemReader

Warnings: Sexual content, MDNI

Description: In the baths, you contemplate both your present and future with Titus. Little do you know, unfriendly eyes are watching.

I'll say this once, if you're a fan of Leandros, this story arc may not be for you. 😈

(To read the rest of the fics in this series, check out my Masterlist.)

“You’re sure this is allowed?” 

You saw no one else in the vaulted chamber, yet still felt the need to whisper. Part of you felt like a misbehaving child. The rest of you shivered with barely disguised glee.

“Of course it is!” Vesta rolled her eyes. “I told you, my unc- I mean, Lord Callistus specifically gave me permission.”

“But he didn’t give me permission.”

“Worry wart.” Your friend giggled. “Just look at this place!”

You did. High ceilings adorned with blue and gold mosaics soared above you. Columns wider than the reach of your arms lined the walls. Every polished marble surface gleamed in the flickering candlelight.

But the thing that truly made you catch your breath was the great pool of steaming water stretching from one end of the room to the other. 

On your homeworld, you’d played in mountain streams. Since becoming a serf, you’d learned of lakes and oceans. But this was by far the most still water you’d ever seen in one place. The steam curling from its rippling surface moistened your skin and filled your lungs.

“What if one of the Marines comes in?”

Vesta was already laying out her bucket of supplies: soap, brushes, and washing cloths. She shook her head.

“Those that aren’t sleeping are preparing for our arrival at Demerium. Unc- Lord Callistus told me so. You, yourself, told me your Lord Titus was in strategy meetings with his squad.” She shot you a wry look. “I’m only glad you finally seem to have a free moment. I’ve barely seen you since we left Avarax!” 

You felt heat rush to your face and turned away, pretending to examine the carvings on a nearby pillar.

“De-Demetrian!”

“Yes. Cry my name.”

“Deme- ah!”

“Good girl. You can take more, can you not?”

“I-I….”

“Please, Little Healer. I need you.” 

Demetrian had been insatiable the last few days, pulling (or throwing) you into bed at every opportunity. Only a frustrated vox call from his squadmates finally dragged him from your side. You remembered the mournful look in his eyes as he left you. 

Warm liquid hit you in the back of the head, soaking your thin robe. You gasped and turned to find Vesta holding the dripping bucket. She giggled.

“Are you going to stare at that pillar all night? Or are you- eek!”

You cupped a handful of water and flung it back at your friend. She squealed and darted away. You forced yourself to relax.

“You go first, Vesta. I’ll watch in case any of the cleaning serfs try to come in.”

“Ah, good idea.” She slipped off her clothes and settled into the water with a sigh.

You tensed when she sank under. “Vesta!”

She surged up again, shaking her wet curls out of her eyes. “What are you worrying about now?”

“How deep is it?”

“It’s a bath for Astartes, how deep do you think it is?” With another giggle she pushed away from the wall and paddled farther into the pool.

You cocked your head to one side as you watched. “I didn’t know you could swim.”

“I learned when I was a little girl on Macragge. At my family’s seaside estate.”

“Your family had an estate?” 

“Mmmhmm.” She dove under again, reappearing in another part of the pool.

Nobility?! How in the Emperor’s Name…?

Vesta caught your eye and grinned, paddling back to the side. “You should see the look on your face!” The grin faded. “Fine. Fine. Hand me the soap and I’ll tell you the whole story.”

***

“...and so, after the plague took my parents and siblings, the inheritance came down to me, or an older cousin. I was little, so I don’t remember much. But apparently the arguments were fierce. Finally, my cousin decided to bring in the only other living member of our House to mediate.”

You sat at the edge of the pool, feet in the steaming water, as you watched Vesta rub the soap through her hair. 

“You don’t mean…?”

The medica nodded. “Lord Callistus’ portrait had hung in our grand hall for longer than I can remember. Father used to hold me up so I could see, telling me the story of how his great grandmother’s older brother had become an Ultramarine, bringing honor to our family. But, of course, he’d never met the man. None of us had.”

Vesta paused, eyes going distant. “Uncle tells me I looked like a scared rabbit when he first saw me. All alone and small and helpless. I reminded him of his little sister.” She smiled. “Anyway, my cousin had the stronger claim, so the estate went to him. And I went with Uncle Callistus.”

You looked at your friend with a clinical eye. Unscarred. Well-fed. With a lightness of manner lacking in many of the other serfs you’d encountered.

“He treats you well.”

“More like a daughter, or well, a niece, than a serf.” She nodded. “Oh, he’s a bit gruff and exacting. Not one to allow his medicae to slack off, that’s for sure!” She laughed. “But he’s kind for all that.”

She leaned back, rinsing the soap from her hair. “I’ve told him about you.”

You sat upright. “You have?”

“Mmmhmm. He says a serf with prior medical knowledge is wasted attending to just one Marine.”

A cold knot of dread formed in the pit of your stomach. “I’m content where I am, Vesta.”

“I know. You’ve told me how wonderful a lord Titus is. Over and over again.” She smirked.

You felt your face heating again, wondering just how effusive you’d been with your praise. 

Did she suspect…? No. No, surely not.

Vesta continued, her face going serious. “But, well, we’re about to go into battle. And I’ve heard what can happen to personal serfs left all alone.”

The cold knot hardened into a ball of ice. You remembered cowering in Demetrian’s locked quarters when you first arrived. You remembered the terror, the despair, of thinking he’d died.

You hadn’t cared what would happen to you.

“Have you,” your voice rasped, “have you heard anything about why we’re going to Demerium?”

Vesta folded her arms on the edge of the pool. A rare frown creased her face.

The words kept coming. “Surely it isn’t so bad. Not worse than Tyranids. And Deme- Lord Titus has conquered the vile insects before.”

Barely.

Your mind flashed to the reason for his conversion to Primaris. The new scars, ragged and red. The haggard look in his eye when he returned from each battle. The way he clung to you these past few days.

Vesta remained silent for a long while. “Usually I can discern something, just from what the Apothecaries are doing. The tools and medicines they prepare. But this time…?” She shook her head. “Not even Uncle has said anything. But it’s going to be bad, my friend, I can tell.”

“The Emperor protects.” You whispered.

“The Emperor protects.” Vesta heaved herself up out of the pool and reached for a towel. “I didn’t mean to scare you. I’m sure Lord Titus will be fine!”

You saw straight through her false cheer.

She noticed, and came to stand next to you, wrapping a damp arm about your shoulders. “I just want you to know if, Emperor forbid, the worst should happen, you’ll have a place in the Apothecarion. I swear it!”

Leaning into her, you tried to smile. “You’re a true friend, Vesta.”

For once, she seemed at a loss for words, hugging you tight. Then, a look of alarm came over her freckled features.

“Throne damn it! I lost all sense of time!” She began frantically pulling on her underclothes and robe. “I promised Uncle I’d be back within two hours to finish the requisition reports!”

A real smile crept across your face at your friend’s antics. 

She flung her bathing supplies into their bucket. “He’ll tan my hide if I turn in late paperwork…again. Well, not really. But I’d rather not be on the receiving end of one of his lectures!” She hesitated, looking toward you.

You waved her away. “Go on. I’ll be fine. Like you said, no one should come in at this time of night. And I just wanted to wash my hair, anyway.”

“If you’re sure. Thanks!” She skidded out of the chamber.

Like the sun going behind a cloud, your brief mirth faded. Vesta’s words echoed in your mind. Old fears reared their ugly heads.

You bent and splashed some of the warm water on your face. “I can’t think like this. I can’t.”

The steaming pool called your name, promising a brief moment of comfort. 

You carefully removed your robe and underclothes. At least with Vesta gone, you no longer had to hide your winces. The flesh between your legs still ached. And when you bent over the water and saw your reflection….

“Throne of Terra….”

Bruises dotted your skin. Your neck, your breasts, your thighs. Many in the shape of large hands.

You gingerly touched the teeth marks in your shoulder. “How in the Warp would I have explained this to you, Vesta?”

Demetrian had never been so rough with you before. You should be annoyed, frightened, even.

Instead….

You ran your hands over each mark, remembering his touch, the rasp of calluses against your skin. When you reached your breasts, you remembered the heat of his mouth. Your nipples hardened beneath your fingers.

“Oh Throne….”

Desire pulsed in your core.

You tried to ignore it as you slipped into the pool. But the enveloping touch of the warm water drew a sharp gasp from your lips. After a year of cold showers and hurried sponge baths, it felt divine.

As your body relaxed, your mind wandered.

Blue eyes. Looking at you with a wonder-filled intensity. Like you provided something he could not believe he had and could not live without. He could steal your breath with a glance.

A strong body. Massive and scarred and so much more than any baseline man. Those arms had torn xenos in two with little effort. You were helpless in their embrace. 

And that voice….

“Little Healer.”

Emperor forgive you, you loved it all. You loved him.

A moan burst from your lips as your hand ventured between your legs, sheer need overriding any lingering soreness.

I shouldn’t be doing this. Especially not here!

But you couldn’t control your fingers, or the memories that raced through your mind. His hands. His tongue. The great weight of him above you. The burning stretch of his length within you.

What if he doesn’t return from this battle? What if these memories are all I will ever have?

You worked yourself faster. Pleasure rising…rising…rising….

Until it crested.

“Demetrian!”

***

Eyes watched the serf girl from the far corner of the room, shrouded in shadow. She hadn’t noticed his entrance. Too lost in her shameful indulgence.

The eyes glinted with outrage. 

“Demetrian!”

Lips curled into a snarl. He recognized this girl. He’d seen her sneaking away from what he now realized was a clandestine liaison with the disgraced Capt- Lieutenant. He cursed himself for his mental slip.

Not a Captain! No longer deserving of that rank, if he ever was to begin with.

His fists clenched. A soft splash returned his attention to the girl.

She climbed out of the water and paused on her knees. He saw the tremble in her limbs. He saw the water drip off her flushed skin, off the pointed tips of her bare, full breasts. 

He saw the bruises, the bite marks. Outrage swelled within him once more.

He could destroy the Lieutenant with this. What the Inquisition had failed to do, he could finally accomplish.

Corruption! Heresy!

Yet he didn’t move as the girl stood, drying herself. His eyes remained locked on her unmarred skin. Her rounded curves. 

Over and over again he replayed her impassioned cry. His outrage changed, tainted by a new, bitter emotion.

Why Titus? What right did Titus have to…this? To her?

As the girl dressed, a mad impulse came into his head. He imagined himself charging across the baths and tearing away the girl’s clothes. He imagined pinning her to the wall and looking…touching….  

He felt himself thickening. Panicked by the unfamiliar sensation, he reached down and grasped his member. 

The jolt of pleasure ripped a guttural snarl from his throat.

The girl froze. He saw her head jerk back and forth, yet knew her weak baseline eyes could not pierce the darkened corners.

He watched her gather her things and flee like a frightened prey animal.

Did that make him the predator? 

No! The guilty often flee from those who would save their souls.  

As he continued running his hand along his stiffened shaft, he found he enjoyed that idea. 

So, Titus thought he deserved pleasure. A fallen soul dared to reach for the blessings reserved for the righteous.

Leandros would cleanse him of such filthy perversions. In time, he would cleanse you both.

@remembrancer-of-heresy @solspina @sleepyfan-blog @moodymisty @gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan

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As always, comment if you'd like to be added to the Taglist.

[syneilesis]

[fic] Slower Days

Slower Days

Love and Deepspace | Part of Airport AU | Zayne (Li Shen) vs. Sylus (Qin Che) vs. Xavier (Shen Xinghui) vs. Rafayel (Qi Yu) | 2.2k words | G | ao3 link

In which Zayne is a part-time airport doctor, and he’s really wishing he could go back to being a full-time hospital doctor.

A/N: Kids, do not copy Sylus. He may be an excellent pilot, but he's not role model material lmao. Also: Caleb cameo.

Zayne has just finished checking his last patient (there's nothing really wrong with the person; just a baffling case of getting starstruck) when an airport crew knocks on the door and peeks in.

"Doctor?"

The patient scurries away, suddenly embarrassed, but not before casting one last wistful look at Zayne, who ignores it with willful concentration.

"Yes?"

The personnel fidgets a little, wages an internal battle over whether to look at Zayne in the eye, loses, and focuses on his side parting instead. "There's emergency at the departure area," he says finally. "We need your help."

Zayne immediately gets up. "Did somebody collapse?"

A suspicious shifty gaze. "Um, somebody might."

That doesn’t inspire much certainty about the state of things. Zayne sighs. Regardless, he gathers his medical equipment after a quick deliberation. "Lead the way."

When they reach the departure area and the situation wordlessly presents itself to him, Zayne immediately does a cost-benefit analysis in his head about his urgent decision to hightail it out of here.

Just a few ways away, the towering figures of Xavier, Rafayel, and Sylus facing each other like three velociraptors about to attack are already attracting spectators. Some bystanders are murmuring for airport security, except the authorities in question are hovering at the threshold, afraid to penetrate the invisible barrier between the public and those three intimidatingly striking men.

Xavier, Rafayel, or Sylus individually already screams trouble. Zayne still can't forget the time when Xavier managed to summon all customs officers by implicating that Rafayel was bringing dangerous drugs (they were only rare paint powders, and even then nobody was able to trace the instigator to Xavier, the clever fox), or that time when the plane piloted by Sylus almost ran over a smaller jet just because the jet's pilot flirted with you (Zayne had to part-time as a counselor for that one—something that's way beyond his job description). Together, they're a greater risk and danger.

Sylus, the tallest among the three, steps forward and juts his chin out in an obvious display of dominance. Rafayel reacts to that and bristles, says something in rapid fire that yanks Sylus’s mouth into a scowl. Xavier remains calm, but Zayne knows based on experience that the young man's already commenced four out of eight of his contingency plans.

The airport crew beside him fidgets nervously. "Um, Doctor?"

His jaw tics; Zayne resists the urge to raise his hand and press it. This isn't part of his work, but he has the unfortunate privilege of knowing the men by way of your association. He has interacted with Xavier and Rafayel at length, and they are civil with each other, sure, but he can't say the same for Sylus. He had, once, sat for two hours of your ranting about aforementioned pilot, gesticulating about the several times Sylus disrupted you during work. He hadn't the courage to ask you directly about the kind of disruption the man was doing but based on your anecdotes Zayne surmised that it was the romantic kind.

He doesn't know what to think of that.

Zayne glances at the crewman—who is now sweating buckets at the growingly palpable animosity between the three.

Finally, he says, "Disperse the crowd. I'll handle this."

The crewman springs to action.

Carefully placing his medical tools by a nearby pillar—he won't need them this time, maybe, probably—Zayne strides towards the nucleus of trouble.

"—just don't understand why you have to overtake another landing plane," Rafayel is saying, "when we weren't even delayed!"

"The PA was going back and forth with flight corrections for that one," Xavier adds. “You should’ve seen the chaos you caused here. You basically broke the law.”

But Sylus is undeterred; he sends them both an unimpressed glare, folding his arms and replying, "That plane was dawdling. And nobody came to arrest me.” Then he pauses, and huffs as if he’s burdened with the obligation to explain further. "I was in a hurry."

"For what?"

Sylus just levels Rafayel a look. Then Xavier, victory within reach, cuts in:

"She's on leave today."

Rafayel and Sylus halt. Zayne, too. And they all train their complete, undivided attention on Xavier, who's still calm but is now smiling that offensively polite-but-triumphant smile.

Sylus is the first to recover, but he only narrows his eyes on the immigration officer. Clearly this isn't the first time Xavier pulled such stunt.

Meanwhile, Rafayel inquires, none too quietly, "And what’s the reason for that?"

Xavier shrugs. "Something about a family coming home. She didn't say any specifics."

"Ah, the errand boy doesn't fully know this time. Losing her trust?"

Xavier doesn't rise to the bait, but he throws another smile at Sylus and retaliates: "Better than wrongfully thinking she's assigned here at the departure today."

The sharpness of Sylus's smirk can cut even a hair strand.

But Xavier's previous answer jogs Zayne's memory, and unprompted Zayne utters the missing piece:

"Ah, Caleb's coming home."

This time, the collective gaze redirects to him. To any other person, the triple glares presented by such three distinctive gentlemen would have triggered a fight-or-flight response in them—but with more emphasis on the flight part and more emphasis on the subsequent reaction of turning 180 and running-screaming for the hills. Zayne merely clears his throat and (heroically!) completely enters the fray.

He doesn't know who speaks up, but it may as well be all of them. "Who?"

"Caleb," repeats Zayne. "They grew up together like family. He's practically her elder brother."

Xavier's smile drops.

It's funny how Zayne can see the obvious thoughts running through their heads. It’s also funny how obvious the myriad expressions flit across their faces like a rolling film reel. He can recognize some of them, like disbelief, apprehension, and irritation. The idea of taking a photo of them and sending it to you is very, very tempting.

But of course, he's a professional. He's not that petty.

"It's been years since they've seen each other, so I'm sure she's going to be busy spending time with him for a while. I should drop by later; I know them since childhood as well."

Well. Maybe a little petty.

"Since it's a homecoming," Rafayel begins, an idea forming in his mind from the way a grin is worming onto his face, "I must offer a gift. It's only proper for a close friend like yours truly, after all."

"Then as her partner," parries Xavier, "I should do the same."

Sylus clicks his tongue.

"How are you certain she'd accept your gifts?"

"Indeed," Zayne adds, to everybody's surprise—including himself. His phone vibrates and he fishes it out to read the notification. He types a reply. "She'd most likely ask how you all knew that information. Instead of feeling flattered, she'd feel suspicious."

"Surely the kitten would never suspect me of that," Sylus says, very much confident.

At the nickname 'kitten' indignation clouds Rafayel’s features.

"I wouldn't know about that." Xavier brings a hand to his chin in thought, pretending to consider the notion when, really, he doesn’t actually believe the man’s assertion.

Rafayel huffs. "'Cutie pie' is a more apt endearment and indicates closer relationship, if you ask me."

Sylus raises a brow at him but doesn't dignify that with a response.

Several paces away from their bubble of terror Zayne can see the airport personnel valiantly shooing the resistant spectators. Distress radiates out of him as he negotiates with a passenger attempting to take a photo of the four. When Zayne catches the passenger's eye, he sends his most severe I Am Disappointed, No More Sweets For You look and breathes a sigh of relief when he gets his intended reaction.

"So how shall we settle this?" Xavier suddenly says, which pulls Zayne's attention back to these three childish men.

"Is there something to be settled?" he asks, mildly.

"Of course, Doctor!" It's Rafayel who answers this time. Then he points at Sylus, who just brushes the accusations off like a rebellious patient who never listens to a medical professional. "This guy keeps bothering her on duty that it affects not just her work, but also the entire airport! During the flight earlier, I witnessed the cabin crew perform a bizarre ritual that they claimed was for ensuring a safe and peaceful passage. He also picked a fight with another passenger who complained about his flying. He was arguing through the speakers, Doctor."

When Zayne turns to Sylus for explanation, the man just raises an eyebrow in defiance and his mouth curls into a sneer. "What's wrong with educating an unenlightened individual about the most optimal ways of piloting a plane?"

"I wouldn't call that educating."

"And if we are settling something," Sylus goes on, vicious, "then let's also look at you"—he turns to Rafayel—"bribing the kitten with gifts while she's on duty; and you"—he continues with Xavier—"fraternizing with work colleagues beyond what is professional standards; and"—finally he turns to Zayne, who’s slightly curious about what kind of tongue-lashing he’ll receive—"you. You don't even need to work here."

Zayne for some reason suddenly misses Akso Hospital.

Then Xavier suggests something wild and ridiculous and so inscrutably random, but has the other two looking all too interested.

"Laser tag."

Zayne really misses Akso Hospital.

The conviction in Xavier’s tone solidifies as he keeps on talking. "We'll settle this with laser tag. The winner gets to decide what to do next."

Rafayel seems receptive to the idea. "Name the date and place."

And Sylus, being Sylus, adds a twist: "I don't accept amateur arena. We should do it here. I want a challenge."

Just why did he indulge an old man’s plea to work here part time? He wasn’t even dying at the time. Is it too late to submit a resignation letter? 

They all turn to Zayne, who just wants to go home and eat ice cream. Xavier tilts his head in inquiry. "What do you say, Doctor?"

"I—"

The bell-ring melody of the airport speakers jolts Zayne, and the soft, feminine voice of the speaker washes over the entire departure area:

"Calling the attention of Mister Rafayel, Immigration Officer Xavier, Captain Sylus, and Doctor Zayne. Please—please—whatever you are doing in the middle of the departure area, please stop. You're frightening the entire terminal. Whatever it is you have to settle, please settle it outside, preferably fifty kilometers away from here. We just want peaceful operations today and the foreseeable future. We are begging you. The airport chief is begging you. Thank you."

There's a collective silence from everyone after that announcement. When Zayne glances behind him the airport personnel and some security are throwing them pleading looks complete with clasped hands. Xavier and Rafayel notice this as well, and a smidge of guilt pierces their expressions.

It's only Sylus who's stubbornly immune to this.

"Gonna step back after all that posturing?" he challenges.

And maybe it's time for Zayne to put a stop to this. He doesn't want the desperation of the airport crew on his conscience. He also doesn't want to be summoned by the airport director and face all that hassle.

So he declares to the three, phone ready on hand: "I'm afraid I will have to step back." Zayne shows them the phone screen as evidence. "She invited me to the exclusive family dinner." He makes sure to highlight the words ‘me’ and ‘exclusive’, which imply that they—unlike him—possess no privilege of being invited at all. "I did grow up with them, after all. So if you'll excuse me."

The stunned expressions on their faces spark an amused smirk out of Zayne. Just as he’s about to step back and leave, he’s struck with an unreasonably and uncharacteristically mean thought.

He raises his phone again and—before the three men could even recover—takes a photo of their shocked reactions.

Then he truly hightails it out of there.

Bonus:

During the exclusive family dinner, Zayne shows you the picture (with explanation of context slightly edited), and you scream gleefully at his audacity to do that crazy thing.

Caleb leans in and squints at the screen. “Who are they?” he asks. Then he glances at Zayne, and a whole unspoken dialogue is exchanged between them.

“They’re my friends at work,” you answer, and Zayne homes in on the word friends. That feels satisfying, he thinks. But then you falter a bit, adding, “Well, two of them are my friends. The other …”

You don’t finish your sentence, though from that alone Zayne—and even Caleb, based on the intense glint in his eye—can surmise a number of assumptions and implications that he isn’t sure he can process at the moment. Thankfully, the potentially disastrous conversation that would branch off from there is averted by Josephine’s introduction of desserts.

There’s a period of peace and harmony during the enjoyment of desserts—until Caleb blinks in realization and speaks up.

“Wait. I recognize one of them. Isn’t that the pilot who trended online because he once flew off-route and reached his destination in record-breaking time?”

[klarolineashur1919]

Part 3

You Smell Awful

Note/spoiler/warning I guess: Chapter contains an Innocent Alicent being a unintentional perv then Ivar being a very intentional full on perv.

"Did you sleep well?" Alicent said more of as a courtesy than a question finding Ivar in the same place she left him the night before.

Sitting against the wall menacingly staring at her. He didn't answer.

"Follow me" She sighed out, knowing he was going to be difficult but despite that she heard the dragging noise that came with him. Guards followed, Ivar looked at them coldly as Alicent tried to ignore them. She hated being watched.

Ivar noticed a book, she was holding in front of her.

A cross on its front. It made him almost growl making Alicent give him a pointed look like he was a child. She's going to be annoying was Ivar's only thought making him roll his eyes, staying at her side. She was taking him to the courtyard. Whispers followed them on the walk there. Servants and peasants whispering and gossiping as they watched them together.

Alicent finally taking a seat somewhere in a corner. She ignored the stares and voices.

Ivar was used to such things, he noticed the christian girl wasn't too phased by it either. Or so it seemed.

Alicent took deep breaths through her nose, opening the Bible. She felt Ivar beside her, improperly close. Breath just breath, he's just a heathen and who cares of the words of peasants and servants. But each inhale of her nose started to become more and more difficult. More and more vile until her head followed her nose to the source.

"My goodness" She gave out an exclaimed whisper, her head going by Ivar's neck making him slowly flinch away in confusion.

"You smell awful" She kept her voice down saving him embarrassment even though she was speaking in his language and he didn't care. Himself slightly laughing and looking at her like she said the most obvious statement she could make.

"Come with me" She got up, taking him somewhere. She gave him her first pitiful look that made him look at her mockingly. This is why she pities him? Not because he's a cripple but because she thought he smelled. He was in complete humored disbelief. She took him to a large room.

"Gentlemen wait outside will you" Alicent said sweetly as she closed the doors in the guards faces before they could interject. Ivar looked around the room curiously. The pillars that surrounded a pool of water in the middle.

"Get in, I will not watch you" Alicent made a hand gesture towards the pool like she was ushering in an animal. Ivar dragged himself towarded the edge looking down. It was too deep. He sat against one of the pillars. Dipping his hands, then rubbing them against his neck.

Alicent turned around, her eyebrows knitted "What are you doing?" He ignored her.

"I thought you heathens had no modesty... you can go in with your underclothes and I promise you I have no interest in looking" She tried to sound reassuring thinking that was the cause of his reluctance but this only made Ivar snicker.

Ivar looked her straight in the eyes, leaned against the pillar and stayed unmoving. Alicent huffed out, muttering to herself going out the door. Ivar smirked thinking she left him to him to his own devices. He looked around there was only one exit and the windows were too small. He didn't have much time to think with the door opening again. She came through with a bucket filled with items, that Ivar didn't bother to look at turning from her.

"Well" She said more to herself as she took bottles and clothes out from the bucket "Athelred's clothes probably won't fit but they will have to do for now."

Ivar heard her movements but didn't look until he jumped at the feeling of a wet cloth of his face. His eyes looking at her wide, she was inches from him.

"If I'm to save your soul then how can I stand by and let you have the smell of a dog" Alicent said bluntly with a pleasant smile. Ivar's eyes bore into her as she gently cleaned his face.

She did it so throughly, even getting behind his ears. Moving to the back of his neck. Ivar almost had the most depraved thought she was making a pass at him but her eyes, her eyes he couldn't figure out. There was no lust or ill will in them nor was there in her touch. But was there in his?

When Alicent looked up at him, his eyes were so intensely looking at her. She involuntarily giggled making him look down. She paused for a moment, looking at him blankly. He was just a boy. Her hands slowly went to his shoulders.

Ivar's eyes went wide and his mouth started to open then close repeatedly. She was taking off his vest then had his tunic that felt stuck to his body after not being removed for weeks.

Alicent neatly folded them both beside the pillar even though she planned on throwing them away later. She kept her eyes lowered as she rinsed and soaked the cloth in the water before started at his collarbone. She felt his eyes on her every move.

"Why are you doing this?" His words cutting the air's tension, making her eyebrow pique but her head did not rise.

"I'm suppose to help you" Alicent said simply, staying at his upper body and his arms. Trying to keep her eyes averted from his lower chest.

She was somewhat shocked by how toned he was. Most boys his age didn't look how he did.

He had the body of a man, not a boy.

"You're supposed to convert me to your God how is bathing me, supposed to do that hmm? You're acting like a servant" He scoffed crossing his arms over his chest that looked in a way to be covering himself.

Alicent scrunched up her nose now being forced to look at his stomach and abdomen.

Well forced was a strong word.

"Or maybe you have very unchristian reasons for this intrusion, what ...like what you see christian?" He slithered onto her, his arms now at her sides. This made her turn away leaning back almost towards floor. She felt his breath on her neck, this wasn't right. No. She wouldnt cower to this heathen. Her body started to straighten, it got closer to his. She would not let him poison her mind. She faced him meeting his eye. He had the bluest eyes she ever saw.

" Last supper, The devil had prompted Judas, to betray Jesus." Alicent placed her hand on Ivar's chest. His breath stopped. He titled his head at her questionly. She gulped as she knew he was something to be reckon with. She always knew from the moment she met him yesterday. She knew by his eyes, his demonic blue eyes.

" Jesus knew that the Father had put all things under his power, and that he had come from God and was returning to God" She told it like a story, a story that lulled him slightly she thought. Her hand pressed against his chest pushing him back down against the pillar. He let her. She never broke eye contact until, she soaked the cloth again.

" So he got up from the meal, took off his outer clothing, and wrapped a towel around his waist.  After that, he poured water into a basin and began to wash his disciples’ feet, drying them with the towel that was wrapped around him." She recited as she started cleaning muscles of his torso. She let out a sigh as she did. Trying to get a singular thought out of her head... he didn't look like other boys.

She wouldn't allow herself to sin.

"He came to Simon Peter, who said to him-" "You're strange and boring cristian" Alicent shot up looking at him offended by him whining out his insult as if she was torturing him.

"I was merely answering-" "I don't care" Ivar didn't even look at her as she looked at his completely flabbergasted by his rudeness.

"Turn around I have to get your back"Alicent said in a monotone voice as Ivar didn't even look or respond to her statement. Ivar was done following this girls strange christian behavior.

Alicent had enough throwing the cloth on the floor.

"Do you think I want to do this? Do you think I want to be here with you? Do you have any idea how my-" Alicent stopped herself from bringing up her father, who had given hell over this arrangement over breakfast. But when it came who's orders she was going to follow, her grandfather's came first. She breathed in and out. Her eyes closed, her face clenched in place.

Ivar thought he had finally broken her by being uncooperative and he started laughing.

That was the last straw, Alicent let out an uncharacteristic growl of aggravation before suddenly pushing Ivar into the water "I've had it with you heathen" Alicent got up crossing her arms turning her back to him until she heard the frantic splashing.

She slowly turned around "boy.." She saw him struggling underwater. Was this a trick? She slowly went to the pool, looking over the edge.

He was drowning.

She frantically stripped to her shift, jumping in.

He was screaming underwater, he was terrified.

Alicent's heart ached at the sight. She wrapped her arms around him, trying to hold him up but he was heavy. She tired to prop him up, his legs would not do it and the boy was freaking out. Alicent pulled him over to the wall with much difficulty.

Ivar immediately clung to it when he reached it.

Alicent pulled herself up to sit on the edge by him"I'm sorry I did not think-"

"Of course you did not think you stupid cristian ..you couldve killed me" Ivar yelled at her facing the floor but Alicent didn't move a muscle.

"Me a stupid christian girl almost killed one of the great sons of the legendary Ragnar Lothbrok?" Alicent said mockingly insulted by his tone towards her. She perceded to ignore him ringing out her hair, loudly mumbling to herself in anger about getting wet.

Ivar genuinely thought he was going to drown this stupid cristian girl, his mouth going into a sneer before he looked at her. His jaw dropped.

Ivar's eyes landed on her body. Her body that was completely visible to him through her soaked shift. Her body was fuller than he would've expected. He didn't expect her very round chest and hips. His fists clenched together, his eyes lowering at the crease in the soaked cloth between her crossed legs. His mouth went dry from being open so long then he felt a constriction below. His face scrunched up as looked down at himself. How could this happened? And out of all the girls?

"You know you could swim if you wanted to?" Alicent looked down at him questioningly, his mouth agape and his eyes dazed. His body language on the other hand looked angry. She was trying to diffuse the situation.

"What?" Ivar snapped out, very uncomfortable physically and now being back under her gaze.

"It's how you're able to get around with just your arms, you could do that with swimming as well" Alicent said gently, the boy rolled his eyes like she said the most idiotic thing ever.

"You know move your arms in a circular motion at your sides" She tried to demonstrate in the air childishly as he dismissively waves her off.

He turned around leaning his back against the wall, his triceps then the rest of his arms sprawled out at the edge keeping him up.

Alicent eyed him, letting out a little "hm" before getting back in the water.

Ivar flinched at her passing. She went to the middle of the pool just far enough away from him.

"Filthy disgusting heathen" Alicent shouted at him "now do you see what my arms are doing" she said sweetly as she was fully capable of standing but was showing the boy the arm movement.

Ivar at first only scrunched up his face and raised his eyebrows at her before turning away in annoyance.

"What is your name heathen" Alicent asked simply realizing she didn't know it.

"Ivar" He gritted his head tilted in a mocking tone before his eyes met once again with her very full breasts. This girl had the body of a woman Ivar smirked to himself, his eyes not looking away.

Alicent did not have one depraved thought in her head that she was thinking Ivar was actually paying attention now to her arm movements because what could he be looking at so intently.

"Now Ivar disgusting foul smelling ugly heathen watch my arms and swim over here" Ivar was intensely watching Alicent's nipples hardening bobbing in and out of the water with every movement. He was panting and at the point of aching until he focused on one word.

"You think I'm ugly?" Ivar's eyes darkened looking at her eyes now, his fists clenched while his body involuntary rolled.

Alicent thinking her plan was working thought she should say yes because it would continue to rouse him but then a thought crossed her brain.

It was a sin to lie.

The pause made Ivar smirk to the point his teeth showed. And then Alicent thought of it in a different way.

"Yes, yes I do" as a person Alicent thought .

Ivar's smirk faded and he looked down, Alicent felt bad to the point but pushed it down. She splashed him.

"Come don't you want to drown me heathen" Alicent persisted and Ivar glared at her. His silence was frightening but she was not afraid and she realized something might push him further.

"You ugly harmless cripple-" She screamed at one splash of muscled arms towards her that made her do one deep back stroke that got her at out of the pool. Ivar did another movement with a growl and saw the girl smiling. Was she mocking him? He did another movement that got him out of the pool about to bludgeon her head into the stone floor.

"Ivar you swam" He looked at her face and paused. She was smiling at him and it wasn't mockingly. She tilted her head looking over his shoulder as he was only arms length from her.

"That wasnt-" He shook his head in disbelief at her but she stopped him. Looking at where she was looking, the edge he was at before and where he was now.

"Three strokes, if it was one I would agree with you but it was three" She giggled and he just leaned on his arm, shaking his head. Not noticing she was looking everywhere but him.

"I was going to kill you" Ivar said honestly and Alicent froze for only a moment.

"Huh...I taught you how to swim and self-control all in a matter of minutes" She laughed dryly while Ivar's eyes glowed at her. She laughs in the face of death.

"I think that is the end of our lesson for today" She quickly gets up "the guards will bring you back" and with that she leaves with blue eyes following her.

Ivar just laid himself out on the stone. And he laughed, all he do was laugh.

She laughs in the face of death.

[immeasurablesaladagere]

Team "Kidpulse and his Overprotective Parents"

Series - A Wildcard is Active

-----

Word Count: 4357

Summery: Impulse is the only player on his team affected by the wildcard and he is not happy about it. His team teases him, realizes their mistake, and apologies are made, but not without consequence.

-----

You whisper to Grian: Are we sure the wildcard is working??

Grian whispers to you: absoutlye :)

Cleo raised an eyebrow at her communicator. Well that was ominous, wasn’t it? Especially because she’d genuinely seen nothing out of the ordinary so far. But then again the session had only just begun; technically they had all week to figure it out, but she didn’t like the period of not-knowing. 

But there was no better distraction from that little nugget of dread than their ever-growing to-do list. Their chests were all a mess from the move the previous week; Impulse was working away at a new creeper farm; ideally they would all be in diamond armour by the end of the week, a reliable food source was sorely in order; yeah, that was enough for one week.

A bundle of coal flew past her and landed a few blocks away, followed shortly by a stack of cobblestone. Pearl sat atop their chest monster, the chest monster she was supposed to be sorting, flinging items out this way and that.

“Are you actually organizing any of that, or are we just throwing things about?”

Pearl stared her dead in the eyes as she dropped an armful of rubbish onto the ground. “I am organizing, my inventory’s full! This is our plants chest, all these rocks and things don’t belong in it.”

“Well sure, but they do have to go back into another chest. What if these despawn?” Cleo picked up the coal and cobble and opened chests until she found one mostly full of other stone and dumped them in.

“Nothing’s gonna despawn, I’m not an idiot. Have some faith in me, Cleo.”

“I’ll have some faith when you’re green again, how about that?” She snarked, and Pearl playfully threw a water bottle at her.

“Hey Pearl!” Scott called from the front gate, hoe and bucket in hand, “Any seeds in that chest? I need them for the farm.” 

Back down into the chest Pearl dove, fishing up a brown bag of wheat seeds. “Here you are. Catch!” She lobbed them over.

“Thanks!”

Cleo took a deep breath of fresh air and looked up at the sunny sky, no chaos or flying snails in sight. “You know, I think we might actually get something done this time around. If we haven’t seen anything yet, how bothersome could this wildcard really be?”

“Guys?” 

She just barely caught Impulse’s muffled call from the basement of their tower. She and Pearl made eye contact and quickly headed for the ladder, only to be met with a billowing pillar of purple smoke.

“What the—?”

“Something’s happening down here!”

Pearl rushed to jump down but Cleo snagged her by the back of her cloak, yanking her back before she could do something foolish. “Woah woah! What if the smoke has an effect? Don’t just go runnin’ down there!”

Pearl wrestled against her grip. “What if Impulse needs help, Cleo? Or do we not care about that now?”

“Impulse is light green, you’re yellow. Worst comes to worst he’d only be yellow and you’d be red. That’s not happening, not on my watch.”

At the sound of all the commotion, Scott came up behind them. “What on earth..? Isn’t Impulse down there?”

“Yeah, and this one was about to risk her life going after him. C’mon, everyone out of the tower.” Cleo hurried them all out and they watched with bated breath as purple smoke poured out. There was still no death message in chat, but Impulse wasn’t responding to any whispers either. Her hands were tense and sweaty on her communicator. Truly, she was itching to go down just as badly as Pearl, but the risk just wasn’t worth it. So they stood there, watching uselessly until the plumes of smoke were only faint wisps and Pearl had finally had enough of waiting. 

“Impulse!” She shouted, sprinting ahead of them and hopping down the ladder, “Are you— Oh my gosh!”

Cleo’s stomach dropped. She hustled down the ladder and Scott followed close behind.

“What’s wrong, what’s happened—?” Oh. Impulse was fine. Well, relatively speaking. He was… Impulse was…

Scott snickered. “Oh dear.”

Impulse was tiny. Not the session one shrinking kind of tiny; he was little kid tiny. Maybe eight if she had to put a number on it, but she’d certainly never been good with ages. And definitely not in a situation like this. All she could do was stare as Impulse sat up from the floor and rubbed his eyes with his fists, and it was Pearl who finally snapped them all out of their shock.

“D’awwwww! Impulse, look at you!” She squealed, rushing forward and picking him up like he didn’t weigh a thing. 

Impulse still looked bleary, doe-eyes wide and blinking slowly down at himself. “Look at me…” He muttered, and admins help her, his voice.

Even if it felt a little bit mean, Cleo couldn’t help but start laughing, especially when a look of horror dawned over Impulse’s squishy little face as he fully comprehended his fate for the rest of the session. “Impulse you’re— Oh my gods, this is amazing.”

He started squirming in Pearl’s arms. “Pearl— P’umme down!”

“Oh that’s precious. Grian’s a genius.” Scott cooed, pulling out his communicator and snapping a picture.

Cleo wiped a tear from the corner of her eye. She just couldn’t kick these giggles. “This makes up for the snails, definitely.”

“N-No it doesn’t! I’m gonna kill him!” Impulse finally managed to pry himself away from Pearl and pushed past them to the ladder.

“Are you sure you don’t need any help, little guy?” She teased, and he shot her his best attempt at a  glare as he clumsily pulled himself up.

The three of them tailed after him slowly, because his short little legs could only carry him so fast, grinning ear-to-ear in utter amusement. Cleo didn’t think she had ever been more excited for a session. One whole week of baby Impulse, doing cute things with his cute angry face. Did that mean there were other children as well? A server tour was sorely in order. 

“Stop following me!” Impulse huffed, opening a chest and leaning in comically far to grab some blocks, “I’m just gonna keep working on the farm.”

Pearl snatched the blocks out of his hands and held them just slightly out of reach. “Ah-ah, I think creeper farms are a bit dangerous, eh? Best leave that to the adults.”

“Hey! Gimme those back!”

Cleo patted his head. “I think Pearl’s right. Why don’t we go see the rest of the server, hm? We’ll find you some friends to play with.”

Scott’s eyes lit up. “Oh yeah. Do you figure there are more kids about?”

Impulse pouted, then seemed to realize his mistake and levelled his expression. Cleo smirked. “C’mon guys, I’m still me! I just wanna work on my farm.”

Cleo crouched— she had to crouch— down to his level. “Tell you what. Humour us, we’ll go see who else has suffered the same adorable fate, and you can have your blocks back. Deal?”

The scrunched up think face she got back was priceless, and after a few seconds, he gave in. “Fine.”

“Excellent. And just so we know you won’t wander away on us, pass over the spawner.”

“What!?”

“You heard me. Spawner, mister.”

Something in Impulse’s face changed just slightly at her tone, and he made a big dramatic show of giving her the spawner as slowly and reluctantly as possible. 

“Thank you. Now, let’s go meet everyone, shall we?”

-

Impulse did not like this wildcard. Not one bit. Of all the things he had been expecting when he passed out in the smoke, waking up a puny kid hadn’t been one of them. He might have actually preferredif the smoke just killed him outright, because now his creeper farm was being held hostage while he was being dragged around the server and his team wouldn’t stop talking to him in a high-pitched baby voice like he was a dog. He just hoped that this was what they needed to get it all out of their systems.

“Come on, Impulse, keep up! Or we might just have to carry you.” Cleo said. It might as well have been a threat.

He picked up the pace, grumbling under his breath. He couldn’t even sulk properly, not with these short little legs. 

“Someone’s grumpy.” Scott teased.

“Yeah, I wonder why?” He said flatly.

Impulse stuffed his hands in his pockets and looked around at the forest and the giant trees in thought. Seriously, why? Sure, it was a little annoying being pulled away from the farm; it the one thing he really wanted to get done this session, but there wasn’t really a reason for him to feel as irritated as he did. He could feel instinctive eye-rolls and sharp remarks bubbling just under the surface every time he spoke, the kind of peeved he only got after a few long all-nighters back in Hermitcraft, not for an hour-long detour at most. 

Maybe it was the voice Cleo used when she made him fork over the spawner, like she was talking down to him, or how easily he agreed. Because he wasn’t actually a kid, he just looked like one. It wasn’t like he couldn’t look after himself.

“Impulse, watch for the hole!” 

Pearl grabbed him by the wrist and pulled him to the side, out of the path of a drop into an exposed pond. It wasn’t very deep and the fall wouldn’t have even hurt, but Pearl was acting like she had just saved him from a creeper surprise attack. He took his arm back.

“I’m fine, Pearl. It’s just a lil’ water.”

“Well, I don’t know! What if you take damage easier or something? You’ve got to be careful!” She chided.

Just keep walking. The faster they found the others the faster they could go home. “We still got stuff to do, y’know. You can’t babysit me forever.”

“Not forever, just until we have this whole thing figured out. Listen to Pearl.” Cleo agreed. Before Impulse could argue, her eyes lit up. “Oh, look! I think that’s Bdubs!”

She pointed across the field where, sure enough, a tiny Bdubs and Etho were sitting on the ground outside their base. It didn’t take long for Bdubs to spot them and start dragging Etho by the wrist to come see them, calling their names excitedly. 

“Oh wow, look at you two!” Cleo gushed, “Itty-bitty Bdubs and Etho. Where’s your buddy, Tango?”

“Tango’s an’dult an’ he said he’s gonna get kills this session, so Etho’s lookin’ after me!” Bdubs explained with the biggest megawatt smile Impulse had ever seen. He looked much younger than Impulse, maybe four or five and bursting with energy, while Etho looked closer to his age, maybe a little younger, and a lot more subdued. So there was a range. Impulse was suddenly grateful that if he was forced to be anywhere he landed on the older end of it.

“Oh is he? I trust you’ll do a good job then, won’t you Etho? What with giving this whole parenting gig a second shot.”

Etho chuckled sheepishly and nodded, then he looked over at Impulse. “Wait, is Impulse the only kid on your team?”

Impulse sighed. “Don’t remind me…”

Pearl put a hand on his head, messing up is hair. “Yep, he’s our little stinker! What if you guys had a playdate, huh? Wouldn’t that be sweet?”

Impulse could feel his dignity dying. His face was on fire. “No! No, thank you, I’m good. You promised I got to work on my farm after this, remember? No playdates!”

Bdubs and Etho giggled, and Impulse wanted to go find that hole again and jump in.

It was Scott who finally took pity on him. “Fine, fine. Let’s go to the mountain, I want to see how the Bamboozlers are doing up there. Who knows what that disaster will be like?”

Pearl pouted. “Alright, I guess. Say bye-bye, Impulse!”

He bit his lip and began walking swiftly towards the mountain. He would not be saying ‘bye-bye’.

-

The tour of the server took much longer than Impulse expected or wanted, and it was late afternoon, almost evening by the time they finally got back home. Sweet, glorious, ugly home. Impulse couldn’t get inside fast enough.

“So we all agree we can’t let Impulse play with Mumbo’s kids, right? That’s a disaster waiting to happen.” Scott said.

“Oh absolutely not. Or Jimmy’s. Not that Scar and Lizzie are bad kids or anything, but Jimmy’s just not cut out for parenting, I don’t think.” Cleo added, “What if Impulse came home hurt? Or worse?”

Impulse didn’t like where this bit was going. Normally he was all for a session of ‘yes, and’, but this one was getting on his nerves. Throughout the tour his teammates had picked up an “overprotective parents” persona, talking about neighbourhood mom groups and starting mock arguments with Jimmy and Ren about their parenting styles, and the whole thing was just embarrassing. Especially when his attempts to move them along were met with “the adults are just having a chat, why don’t you go play?”. The temptation to yell that he wasn’t actually a kid and demand his stuff back was strong, but everyone else was having fun. It was just him with a problem and he didn’t even know why. 

So he kept his mouth shut. The teasing would last a day, at most, and then he could get back to normal. And if they didn’t stop, then he would ask them to lay off a bit. He just needed to loosen up, try to lean into it somehow.

While Scott, Pearl, and Cleo were talking away, his eyes landed on the chest monster. The chest monster Pearl had freshly organized earlier that day. A mischievous grin spread across his face for the first time all afternoon, and he crept over and behind the stack out of sight. They wanted a kid? They could have one.

As quickly and quietly as possible he began opening chests and pulling out all of the contents, scattering the well-organized stacks on the ground and mixing them up. Stone with dirt, torches with raw steak and glow berries, tools everywhere. He snickered to himself. He was buzzing with the thrill of doing something he wasn’t supposed to. More items scattered to the floor, and it was only when he heard Cleo gasp that he realized he might have been snickering too loudly. 

“Impulse! What have you done!?” 

“I just sorted those!” Pearl exclaimed, and she actually did look a little angry. The triumphant feeling in his chest shrunk.

Cleo marched up to him and stood with her arms crossed. “Do you want to explain yourself?”

“I… Uh… Was having fun!” It was so hard to think when she was looking at him like that. 

“Having fun? C’mon, man!” Pearl said, scooping up the disorganized items and throwing them back in the chests.

Scott just smirked from the sidelines, finding it all amusing. “I don’t think even an actual eight-year-old would do this.”

And that made Impulse mad. They had been treating him like a kid all day; talking down to him, ignoring him, using dumb baby-talk, and now they were yelling at him for acting his age? “What am I s’posed to do!? I thought I was a kid!”

Cleo levelled him with an unimpressed glare, and Impulse shifted uncomfortably under her gaze. Were they actually mad? Then her expression changed, aloof and final. “Alright then. Impulse, because you messed up Pearl’s chests on purpose, you are hereby grounded. That means no playdates, no outings with us, and no spawner privileges.”

His eyes widened with shock, then with anger. “What!?”

“You heard me. In fact, I think a timeout may be in order. Go to the tower please, for eight minutes.” She pointed firmly to the tower.

Impulse’s head became a storm of emotion. Anger, shame, embarrassment, sadness, every bad thing swirling around in his chest making it hard to breathe or think straight. The idea of calling off the bit, or apologizing, or actually explaining himself didn’t even cross his mind. He only knew one thing; he wasn’t going to timeout. 

“No!”

Pearl stepped forward, frowning. “Impulse—“

His eyes felt sore and burny. “No! I’m not going to timeout! I hate you guys!” 

He turned on his heel and before anyone could catch him he bolted for the gate and ran off into the forest. He kept running even after the sounds of his team calling his name faded away, until his chest hurt and he needed to stop to eat.

He was alone. He was still in the birch forest, but he could see little patches of grass and oak trees in the distance. Finally, he was alone. No smothering teammates, no embarrassing conversations, no being told what to do. He smiled to himself, out of breath. He could do whatever he wanted!

The first thing that caught his eye was a tree, of course, so he ran up to it and jumped for the lowest branch. Then he clambered his way up higher and higher until he was perched on one of the tallest branches. It was a pretty big tree, and he could see really far. He could see the clearing where all the bases were, and the light from where all his stupid teammates were. Could he even call them teammates anymore? Teammates weren’t mean to each other. And, best of all, he could see the pretty pink and orange sunset.

His communicator buzzed against his leg, and when he saw the messages were from Cleo and Pearl he switched it off without looking at them. He didn’t need those meanies. He was gonna have fun all by himself!

-

This wasn’t fun. 

He clutched his torch tighter as zombies moaned between the trees and the rattling of skeletons got closer. He couldn’t see them, and that made them scarier. The wildcard was messing with his head, making him scared of the dark and the monsters and now he didn’t know what to do. He couldn’t go back home, even if he knew the way back. If he went home he would be in trouble for messing up the chests and running away, and he really didn’t wanna be in trouble. Pearl took all of his blocks and he didn’t have enough time to stop and get any without being snuck up on, and all he had was a bit of food, his armour, and his sword, which was really heavy and hard to hold.

Maybe he could stay with someone else? But he didn’t know where he was anymore and if he made it to another base, would they call his team? 

A branch snapped behind him and he whipped around to see a huge zombie shambling towards him and one more close behind. He couldn’t fight; all he could do was run. Out of the forest, not safe, not safe, not safe.

He ran, listening to the awful sounds of mobs chasing behind him until he broke the tree line into a field. There were no lights in sight. No bases, no people. He whined under his breath. At least the zombies were gone. 

Suddenly a cloud of purple particles appeared in front of him and without thinking, Impulse looked up.

The sheer height of the enderman looming over him was enough to make his breath catch in his chest. It stared for a moment, tilting its head and long neck like it was confused, then it growled, low and dangerous. Impulse took a shaky step back, unable to tear his eyes away from the purple abyss even as its jaw unhinged and it let out an ear-piercing screech.

He couldn’t run, couldn’t hide, couldn’t fight. He was gonna die because they were right, he was a weak, stupid kid and we was gonna die—

“Impulse!”

Two arms grabbed him from behind and hoisted him into the air as Scott appeared in front of him and buried his axe into the enderman’s side. The creature’s attention snapped to him, and it began flitting around them with a cry.

“Come on, we’re getting out of here!” 

Pearl was carrying him, running back through the woods. Instinctively he wrapped his arms around her neck for grip and watched over she shoulder as Scott struggled against the enderman in the distance. He watched as the enderman vanished, reappeared behind him, and landed the finishing blow.

Smajor was slain by an enderman.

“Scott!” He cried. Pearl held him tighter.

“We’re almost home, keep your head down!” She said firmly.

He listened, just so he didn’t have to see any of the scary monsters or Scott’s fading body anymore, and pressed his face into the hood of her cloak. Tears burned behind his eyes. He killed Scott. He ran away and Scott died trying to save him. He was so stupid.

After a few minutes Pearl stopped running, and the soft glow of torchlight crept through his closed eyelids. 

“Alright, buddy. We’re home now. You alright?” She asked. 

Why was she being nice to him? He just got someone killed. He was caught between wanting to scramble off of Pearl and wanting to never let go, just so he wouldn’t have to look up and see their faces.

“You gave us quite the scare, eh?” Came Cleo’s voice. A side finally won out and he lifted his head just enough to see her through his teary vision.

“Sc-Scott..?” His voice cracked pathetically. Great. Perfect.

Cleo smiled softly. “He’s alright. Do you want to go see him?” She asked, and he nodded quickly. “Okay. But first, you’re not hurt anywhere, are you? Nothing that needs attention?”

He should be. He shook his head.

“Good. C’mon, then.”

Pearl didn’t put him down as they walked to the tower and Impulse didn’t fight it. It didn’t matter if it was embarrassing or that he should have wanted to walk, because he didn’t. His body was finally coming off the adrenaline high and it felt like all of his energy had been sapped right out of him.

Until he saw Scott, lying in bed with a pillow propped behind his back and a tight, pained smile on his face. Not angry, not upset, just worried and relieved. 

And something inside of him broke.

Like a tidal wave, small sniffles turned into heaving sobs that caught even himself off-guard, loud and uncontrollable. He couldn’t take a full breath, catching on hiccups and coughs every time he tried, and that only made him feel worse.

Soft hushes and coos that he couldn’t understand filled his ears, and then he was moving. He went from one set of arms into another, arms surrounded by soft blankets. 

Scott held him tightly but gently, carding his nails through his hair and shushing him. It was humiliating. It was the most embarrassing thing that had ever happened to him, and he hated that it was actually helping.

“You’re alright, you’re alright… shh… Hey, Impulse? Look at me, please.”

Like dragging his body through honey, Impulse slowly lifted his head to look Scott in the eyes. It made his skin crawl with guilt and fresh tears welled up again. Scott was in pain, recovering off a respawn and still trying to make him feel better.

“There we go. Breathe. Take a deep breath.”

He tried, but he inhaled too fast and broke into a fit of coughs. Come on, Impulse. Pull yourself together.

“Good, that’s okay. Another for me.”

He took another, and then another, until the tears slowed and his chest stopped feeling so tight. All of his energy was definitely gone this time, and he sagged against Scott with a whine.

“There. That’s better now, isn’t it?”

He nodded. It was.

The bed dipped and someone sat on the floor beside them.

“Impulse?” Cleo asked, “Do we maybe want to talk about what happened earlier?”

The fiery heat returned to his cheeks with a vengeance, and he hid his face from her. “No.”

“No baby talk this time. Seriously.”

“Yeah,” Pearl chimed in from the ground, “When you ran off we were pretty sure it wasn’t a bit anymore. It was us, right? How we were treating you?”

It wasn’t accusatory, or angry. Just a statement. “I… Y-You guys wouldn’t stop treatin’ me l-like a kid, a-an’ then when I acted like a kid, ‘c-cause that’s what I thought you wanted me to do, you yelled at me.” He worked through the explanation painstakingly slowly, stumbling over every other word because for some reason talking was super hard. He really did sound like a little kid. “It wasn’t fun.”

“That’s kind of what we thought, too.” Scott said, his voice rumbling against Impulse’s ear. His heart beat steadily, loud and clear.

“We’re sorry, buddy.” Pearl said seriously. “We didn’t know it was buggin’ you so much.”

“I didn’ say anything.” He mumbled. “When I realized I really didn’ like it, I…”

“You were too worked up to say anything.” Cleo finished. He nodded. “Alright. We’ll lay off the parenting bit. If you want to play along, you let us know. We’ll play to you, how does that sound?”

“S’good…” He yawned. Everything felt heavy.

“Let’s start with this. How do we feel about a cuddle party, hm?” Pearl said. “I can make us some more beds, because hey! It turns out you found some extra wool while you were reorganizing.”

That sounded nice. All Impulse really wanted to do was crash and wake up at the end of the session. He felt like he could sleep for a week. “Mhm.”

Soon Pearl had two more beds rustled up, and the four of them were squished together under the shared blankets. Impulse stayed tucked up against Scott, listening to the steady beat of his heart. Was it childish? Maybe, but he could live with that for one night.

"G'night guys. Thanks for lookin' out for me."

Cleo patted his shoulder. “Goodnight, Impulse. Your spawner's waiting for you downstairs for tomorrow."

And all way right with the world again. Well, mostly. "...Finally."

[willel]

What does "Wonder Twins" Mean?

For the sake of the people who might not know why "wonder twins" is used for willel, I figure I'd offer up an explanation.

First and foremost, no. El isn't transforming into animals and Will isn't turning into water buckets and puddles. The term is not literal.

Originally in the olden days, it might've been more common to see "star crossed twins".

You see, Will and El are undoubtedly around the same age, less than a year apart. Not only that, they fulfill the same role in the party. The Uber weirdo.

Yes, our little tribe of kids are all little nerds and strange in their own ways. None of them compare to just how weird El and Will continue to be every season.

They were called "star crossed" NOT FOR ROMANTIC REASONS, but for the simple fact that in the first two seasons, they kept trading places. A big pillar of WillEl is the fact that they are two sides of the same coin. Season 4 hammered this point down in a way I couldn't even imagine . While I'm sure the van scene was great for shippers for different reason, it was great for me as a non-shipper by showing yet again just how similar Will and El are. So much so he convincingly used El's feelings to hide his own.

But back to the point. In the first two seasons, they were literally two sides of the same coin. Save for exactly 1.5 moments in the entirety of both seasons, neither had been present and conscious in the same room at the same time. Ever. It was literally like when one was there, the other couldn't be.

But season 3 changed this. At long last, the two were in the same room AND working together. They were no longer star crossed and they needed a new name.

I'm not sure who came up with it first, but eventually "wonder twins" took center stage and I adopted it too.

"But why?"

As I explained, El and Will are the two biggest weirdoes of the group. Interestingly enough in season 3, they also sat and stood together quite a lot. They weren't fist bumping each other and turning into creatures, but they were trying to use their weirdo abilities together in a way.

Season 4 reinforced this. Now they weren't just awkward friends, they're literally siblings. Unseen to us, they've been living in the same house for almost a year. (YES I KNOW IT WASNT GIVEN SCREENTIME. DO YOU UNDERSTAND HOW FRUSTRATING THAT IS FOR ME SPECIFICALLY? I LITERALLY MENTIONED THIS BEING A FEAR OF MINE BEFORE)

Regardless of how you feel about show vs tell, the writers did "show" as much as possible before the plot called for El to be separated for everyone (again). Additionally, I don't think extra exposition on their relationship would work, it'd come across as forced to me.

To summarize, the wonder twin moniker is not an indication of their closeness or their DNA, but their roles in the story and group.

[auroracoriolis]

[Fanfiction] Pillar of Light

Here is a part of the Magnus x Perturabo fic I am currently working on.

Summary: Perturabo and Magnus are conquering yet another planet together during the Great Crusade. Perturabo is being healed by Magnus and struggling to understand his feelings.

Genre: Romance, drama. Kinda slow-burn.

Content Warnings for the excerpt below:

Primarch shipping (but this chapter does not go beyond cuddles and feeelings)

Blood and injury

Wartime setting

---

Perturabo was sitting at his desk reading reports on a data slate. He was shirtless and several fresh bandages decorated his broad, muscular torso. Immediately behind him sat his brother Magnus, with blood on his hands and magical lights floating in the air beside him. Magnus was diligently picking shrapnel out of a large wound covering Perturabo's back and shoulder.

[...]

Magnus plucked out another piece of metal from his brother's flesh and studied it. “So is this what you mean by Iron Within?”

“Yes, don't remove too much of it,” Perturabo joked back, “or I will become soft like you.”

“Me, soft?” Magnus asked with feigned indignation. “Well, I'm lucky to have you with me then. I saw what you did when you placed yourself between me and that explosion.” There was a small but sharp metal clank as Magnus dropped the blood-covered shard into a bucket by his feet. “You are the one always telling me not to risk my life unnecessarily, but today you were pretty reckless with your own.”

Perturabo smirked. He remembered what had happened right after the detonation that gave him the wound on his back – Magnus had used his more destructive arts to tear down an entire cliff-side to bury the artillery that was firing at them. Perturabo had enjoyed seeing Magnus so consumed by vengeful fury on his behalf, but he did not say that.

Instead he only said: “Unlike certain others, I wear proper armor. I can take some punishment.”

“Well, your armor clearly didn't manage to shield you from all of it, now did it?”

“I know how you love to show off your skills,” Perturabo scoffed teasingly, “you should be grateful for the opportunity.”

Magnus had grabbed the next piece of shrapnel and gently started pulling it out from the muscle it was lodged in. Thanks to his biomancy he was able to make the living tissue open up around the metal and then repair itself again after without causing any lasting damage.

Perturabo's shoulder was so numb that he felt no pain at all, only a diffuse pressure, but he still made an exaggerated groan for dramatic effect.

Magnus immediately stopped pulling. “Did I hurt you?” There was concern in his voice now.

“No, I'm just messing with you,” Perturabo assured. “I can't feel a thing.”

“Really?”

“Yes, really. You are doing great.”

Magnus seemed to relax again.

“And I am grateful for your unique talents and that you would spend them on me,” Perturabo added with a genuine smile. “I'm fortunate to have you at my side.” He turned his head around as much as he could and noticed that Magnus was smiling too.

[...]

The two legions worked well together. The Thousand Sons never complained about taking orders from Perturabo, they fell in line among the Iron Warriors and subtly used their gifts to turn the tide of battle in their favor. They could see where the enemy was hiding, predict incoming fire, and save the lives of the dying. There had been fewer casualties and overall progress had been faster and smoother than normal.

He had expected to feel relief over the fact that this compliance was almost done, but now the thought of it ending nearly made him sad. How strange. Whenever he had to work together with other legions, with his other brothers, he usually wanted nothing more than to finish the mission and leave as soon as possible.

How could it be that he felt like this? So relaxed – and even happy – whenever his legion worked together with the Thousand Sons? Or rather, whenever he was with Magnus.

There was nothing of the friction and disrespect he usually felt from the others. Magnus had gladly allowed Perturabo to take the lead in matters of strategy, to instead focus on finding ways to counter the nasty chemical weapons that the enemy was using. This had allowed Perturabo to try some bold new tactics, and all the risks he had taken had paid off. It seemed that Magnus, somehow, brought out the very best in him.

[...]

Once again Perturabo felt the soft pressure from Magnus' hands on his back, and he heard the clank when another piece of metal was dropped into the bucket.

He still could hardly believe that he was letting someone be this close to him.

Whatever this was, it must be something deeper than just shared interests and a shared purpose. There had to be some reason why he could never seem to bond like this with any of his other brothers.

What was different?

He turned his gaze up towards the ceiling to look for the hateful wound in reality that constantly followed him, and as always, it was there. But somehow its evil red glare was weaker than usual, like the moon half-hidden on a cloudy night. Ethereal strands of blue and green mist were swirling across its surface, partially obstructing it.

Was there something about Magnus' presence that caused this?

Perturabo had never asked Magnus about the Star Maelstrom, and he did not intend to do so now either. He had come to believe that Magnus' gifts only allowed him to see the good things in the Warp and not the bad – how else could one perceive the Warp as beautiful? And how else could one be so unafraid, so confidently reckless in one's dealings with it?

Perturabo guessed that Magnus' missing eye was related to all of this. There was something poetic about the idea of one eye seeing only good and one seeing only evil, and that both eyes are needed for true sight and true wisdom.

Well, Perturabo's gift – or his curse – was to see the flaws in everything. He could see the evil that Magnus could not... That made it sound like they were indeed fated to be together.

Perturabo did not dare to ask the questions he truly wanted to ask, lest he ruin the moment. Instead, when he turned around again he asked something only tangentially related.

“Am I visible in the Warp?”

“Of course,” answered Magnus, as if the question wasn't strange at all. ”We and our brothers all are, very much so. We burn far brighter than mere mortals.”

“What do we look like then?”

“Well, I am told that I look like a multitude of shifting colors. And you...” Magnus' gaze shifted as he looked into a plane beyond reality. ”You are a pillar of light, steady and unyielding... pure white, and so very, very bright.”

The warm fondness in his voice made something stir deep in the hearts of the Lord of Iron.

Perturabo was unable to find the words to ask anything more.

*

Once Magnus was done and had sealed up the wound, he stepped away to wash the blood off his hands. When he returned he sat down again to inspect his work, carefully running his fingers over the newly healed skin. As the numbing effect had subsided, Perturabo could now clearly feel the gentle touch and it sent shivers down his spine.

“You look as good as new,” Magnus said, ”but now we should probably call it a night. I need to get some rest.”

Magnus' own quarters were quite far away, in the opposite end of the fortress. (Perturabo regretted that particular design decision and would make sure to house the two of them close together next time.)

“You can stay here,” Perturabo quickly offered. ”You can take the bed, I don't need to sleep yet.”

He gestured at the simple bed in a corner of the room, which was only made for one Primarch. It could technically fit two, but only if they were prepared to lie inappropriately close together. Magnus glanced over at it and hesitated for a moment, as if he was weighing his alternatives. “I will accept your offer,” he eventually said with a tired smile. “Good night, then.”

[...]

He found his brother lying on the bed and facing the wall, fast asleep. [...]

Perturabo felt a twinge of regret about accepting the offer of Magnus' healing arts for an injury that was not even remotely life-threatening. For what – his wish to avoid an ugly scar? Such vanity should be beneath him. He should have waited and had his apothecaries do the surgery on him after the campaign was over.

How many hundreds of times had Magnus already used his powers in the last few weeks? How many of their warriors had he already healed, and how many miracles had he already performed since the last time he rested? It was just like him to overexert himself until he completely crashed from exhaustion.

Perturabo remembered the first time he had carried the unconscious Magnus back to safety, walking as fast as his terminator suit could allow while carrying their combined weight, absolutely wrecked with fear that his brother might not survive. That had been on Morningstar several decades ago, but the visceral dread that memory carried was still as real as the day it happened. And it had not been the only time he had carried him.

He felt a deep, primal urge to protect his brother. Against everyone and everything, and sometimes, even against himself.

Perturabo picked up a blanket and silently spread it over Magnus' body. Then he paused for a moment, listening to the peaceful breaths of the sleeping Crimson King. He had intended to return to his desk and find more work to silently busy himself with, but he did not.

Driven by a sudden impulse that he couldn't explain, he carefully lay down on the bed behind Magnus and put his arm around him.

He wasn't sure why he was doing this. All he knew was that he wanted to hold onto his brother and never let go.

The smell of the battlefield still lingered in Magnus' hair, but underneath the burnt prometheum he could sense something else – a faint flowery fragrance that he recognized from when he had visited Magnus on the Photep in calmer times. It was soothing.

Magnus stirred briefly and moved ever so slightly. At first, Perturabo was afraid that he was going to be pushed away. Instead, Magnus seemed to purposefully shift into the embrace, and Perturabo felt a hand placed upon his own. Nothing was said, but something about this simply felt profoundly right.

Perturabo buried his face in that soft hair and breathed deep as he slowly drifted off. It had been a very long time since he had last felt so completely at peace. And once he fell asleep he slept through the entire night, completely free of his usual nightmares.

---

The full work is rated Mature. It is a WIP, currently at 4/12 (approx) chapters. AO3 link:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/62537119/chapters/160059796

[queen-scribbles]

OC Kiss: Reach (Kei/Matiu, Pillars of Eternity)

Kei growled softly as her shoulder pressed the baseboard and the small piece of steel remained just beyond her fingertips. Come on, Tangaloa damn you. She was so lost in her determination she didn't hear the approaching footsteps.

Toes nudged her side, and a highly amused voice asked, "Do I want to know?"

She looked up to see Matiu, arms crossed and eyes twinkling. "Dropped a rivet for the hilt I'm working on. It rolled... under... here..." she strained, biting her lip as if concentration could make her arm another inch or so longer.

"Don't you have a whole little bucket of those?" Matiu sat down next to her.

"These are custom," Kei groaned, arm still inside the wall. "Client paid extra to have their family heraldry etched on. It was a headache to do that much detail so small and I'd rather not need to do it again."

"Ah, so that's why I walked in to my wife sprawled full-length on the smithy floor and losing a battle with the wall," he teased. "You almost kicked over Gera's quenching bucket, you know."

Kei glanced back--sure enough, her left foot was centimeters from the large black bucket. "Well. Good thing it's almost." She freed her arm and sat back. "Could you try, Mati? Please? Seeing as I'm not having any luck, and you have longer reach than me?"

Matiu chuckled. "I'm also incredibly weak to you saying please."

"That too," she said with a laugh, leaning in to give him a quick kiss before shuffling out of the way.

Fortunately the hole was large enough to accommodate his arm, and after a few moments' grumbling strain he sat back with the small silvery rivet gleaming in his palm.

"My hero," she joked, straddling his lap as she took the rivet. She curled one hand tight around it, the other cupping his jaw. She leaned in for a kiss. "What would I do without you?"

Matiu was laughing as he kissed her back. "I'm sure you would manage, dearest," he murmured against her lips.

Kei hummed a disagreement and wrapped her arms around his neck to kiss him again.

[alinalioness]

Security Breach Chapter 20: An underground battle.

Meanwhile, with Freddy.

In the first person, he opens one eye and feels that the other is missing. But he worries that he is somewhere else in a dark place.

Freddy: W... where am I? (He felt that he couldn't move) Why can't I move?

Bonnie: Freddy... that's you?

Freddy:(Noticed him) Bonnie? (Bonnie turned to him, but without a face) Bonnie! What happened to you?

Bonnie: I was about to tell our friends when I entered the kitchen I was attacked by bots and I can't see anything.

In Bonnie's memories.

Bonnie walked into the kitchen until a bot grabbed his arm and tore him off, forcing him to fall. Later, others appeared and began attacking him.

In the present tense.

Freddy heard someone's creaky female voice and as soon as he turned around, he saw Chica with her head stretched out and her hand missing.

Freddy:(Worried) Chica, were you attacked too?

Chica: Yes...

In Chica's memories.

Chica was on the golf course until she was removed with a stick and the bots attacked her.

In the present tense.

Chica: I was trying to defend myself...

Freddy: Where's Foxy?

Foxy: Here... (Everyone looked at him) the same story... If it wasn't for you fighting over our past and lies...

In Foxy's memories.

Foxy was standing on the road to Roxy Racing until he was hit by a racing car.

In the present tense.

Freddy looked at his friends with shame and guilt. Because he couldn't immediately admit to his friends about their past.

Freddy: I'm sorry if you want to... It's all my fault that I couldn't tell our friends right away. He even shouted at Alina like William, who turns out to be alive...

Bonnie: We all make mistakes, Freddy. We should have said it ourselves right away when he forbade it.

Freddy: Fredbear didn't even forgive me for that, if he was alive.

Suddenly, an explosion was heard on top and people fell.

Chica: What is this?

Meanwhile, with others.

Everyone was lying in the underground security room and sat down after discovering it.

SpongeBob: Where are we?

Alina: To the place where William is there.

In another room, BurnTrap himself was coming out of the capsule. Looking at the TV, she viciously laid her hand and tries to control the animatronics.

Glam-rock Freddy: William is going to control us!

Gregory immediately saw the button with the TV, pressed it and a fire appeared in the room where William was, which has now gone out.

Meanwhile, with FNAF 1.

Four animatronic angels, who are now tied to a pillar, noticed the fire in a short distance.

Bonnie: A fire? We are dead Even though we are animatronics!

Freddy: We should have untied it immediately.

Meanwhile, with others.

Alina: Guys, keep an eye on William upstairs. And I, along with the Puppet who is now in a toy bear, will take his soul.

Toy Bonnie: And who is he?

Lula: This is the one who revived you after William killed you.

Glam-rock Freddy: William... father...

In Glam-rock Freddy's memories.

Before his death, he was Michael himself, who was now standing and looking at his younger brother in the mouth of Fredbear's. Suddenly, the paste crushed the younger's head, which made Michael feel ashamed. At the hospital, when the doctor told William that it was useless to save him, his father angrily approached him.

William:(Angry) You killed your brother (Punched Michael in the face).

Later, when he was at the Baby Circus to free his sister Elizabeth, he entered the room where there was a bucket, which he killed in the stomach. And it was the work of Funtime of his future friends, who turned out to have killed him. And when he ended up in Glam-rock Freddy because of a Puppet, he decided to end his meeting with William.

In the present tense.

Glam-rock Freddy looked at his hands and then at his friends. Alina and the Teddy bear Puppet entered William's room.

Luigi: The bots are here (Glam-rock Freddy looked up)!

Meanwhile, with DJ's group.

They stood and noticed that the pizzeria was almost destroyed and the lights were on.

Balan: We need to find friends immediately and help them. You can't drag it out for long.

DJ: There is.

The DJ carefully checks if there are any heroes here. Until Emma heard a familiar scream.

Emma: There's someone shouting.

Meanwhile, with Griffona.

Griffona became very strong until she heard Freddy's alarm cry.

Freddy: Help us!

Griffona: Freddy.

She went through the avalanches and noticed animatronics who were trying to get out, and the lights are getting bigger because their friends do not know what they are pressing the buttons.

Freddy: Help!

Bonnie: Help us!

Chica: Can anyone hear!

Griffona immediately became Negabosses and put out the lights with tears. She used her tail to free the broken animatronics and put them on top of her.

Freddy, Bonnie, Chica and Foxy: Griffona.

Griffona: Calmly. And now we are going to our friends via wires from where and the fire.

Meanwhile, with Alina and Puppet.

They immediately found William, who was about to go to another room. The puppet immediately got out of the toy and starts sucking his soul. He immediately noticed the two of them.

Alina:It's over, William! Now you're going to hell!

BurnTrap: Really?..

He was about to attack the Puppet, but he dodged. Alina decided to attack with a knife, but William was able to catch her.

Puppet: No!

He kicked him in the head and William pushed him. Then he saw Alina coughing from the smoke of the fire and slowly approaching her.

Glam-rock Freddy:(Angry) No (Runs to William)!

Gregory: Freddy!

When he saw the boy, he went to help Alina and the Puppet anyway. He pounced on William, grabbing him by the neck against the wall.

Glam-rock Freddy: Leave my friends, Father!

All except Alina and Puppet: Father?!

The puppet continues to take William's soul while William tried to take control of Glam-rock Freddy with his hand.

BurnTrap:(Angry) You're a stupid eldest son who killed his younger brother and then wanted to do the same to me!

Glam-rock Freddy: Because I realized that you are a murderer! You specially created our Funtime friends who were capable of killing children! (The others looked at Funtime in confusion) Because of this, your daughter and wife are now in them! You would have been killed for your crimes too!

Gregory saw this and immediately ran out to help.

Gregory: Guys!

Cassi: Gregory!

Suddenly, Griffona with animatronics appears from the wall and collapses.

Alina: Griffona! Guys!

Freddy, Bonnie, Chica and Foxy: Alina!

BurnTrap approaches Glam-rock Freddy again, but Gregory wouldn't let it.

Gregory: Don't go near him!

Glam-rock Freddy: Gregory, what are you doing here?

The killer rabbit looks at him and remembers his youngest son.

BurnTrap: My son... I've killed someone, of course, but I don't want to kill you.

Gregory: Really... But I know you're still a liar! You deserve to be in hell!

BurnTrap was unhappy and decided to kill that Freddy decided to pounce on him.

Freddy: No!

He pushed him, which caused William to lose one arm. Freddy tried to get up while William was preparing to kill. But I felt that the soul was starting to leave completely because of the magic of the Puppet.

BurnTrap: No, no, no, no... NOOOOOO!

The soul left William and the animatronics fell. The puppet of magic sent William's soul straight to hell, locked up forever to suffer. The bots that attacked the others have shut down.

Patrick: Have we won?

Carlin: All right.

All: Hurray!

But suddenly everything started to fall apart. They tried to find a way out, but unsuccessfully, until fortunately a DJ took them.

Puppet: Everything is falling apart. Everyone on Griffona immediately!

All Alina and Gregory helped Freddy and Glam-rock Freddy climb Griffona and they are all climbing together. As soon as they got to the end, they noticed the DJ's hand and himself.

DJ: Hurry up here!

They immediately climbed onto his arm and he put them on his body where the others were.

Others: Guys!

Balan: You've been found!

Alina: Yes, but it's time for us to leave while we're all alive.

DJ: I understand you!

He immediately left the wrecking pizzeria and headed towards Highland Island with his friends while Freddy was looking at it, which reminded him of the move.

To be continued...

[thecoolerliauditore]

did i ever tell u guys abt how i had the most vivid dream awhile back where life smp season 5 started and martyn, ren and bigb all immediately teamed up and started building just. a one block pillar into the sky that went up like 500 blocks out of nothing but birch planks specifically.

they then proceeded to build a horrible cobblestone box ontop of the pillar that was just kinda floating in the sky and dubbed it their "treehouse". and just. sat in it. laughing at what they did for like a good 5 minutes or so where no one could get a full sentence out cus they were all laughing too hard.

cleo found the "treehouse" and climbed up the pillar (they put ladders on it) to roast them to which martyn responded by telling her no girls were allowed in the treehouse and poured lava down. Which destroyed the pillar. Cus it was made of wood. And none of them had water buckets. So now they were just.. stuck in a cobblestone box in the sky with no way to get down.

I don't remember what happened from here other than Ren exasperatedly asking Martyn why on earth he would do that and Martyn just responding with "what did you want me to do?? i had no other choice!! >:C".

and idk why but the most vivid part of it was near the end Bigb saying something like "I'm.. I'm going to kill Martyn" and Ren responding "you can't do that you're not red yet" and Bigb just goes "oh I don't mean in minecraft"

[autumnalwalker]

Find The Word Tag

Thank you for the tag, @winterandwords.

My words to find were early, late, now, & then.

Passing the tag to @aestatismors, @talesofsorrowandofruin, @thewardenofwinter, @silverslipstream, and the usual open tag for anyone else who wants to jump into the tag game.

Your words shall be bounded, control, free, & outside.

Early: The Archivist's Journal, Day 245

Oh yeah, speaking of animals, we saw a whale yesterday.  Or something that I’m pretty sure was one at any rate.  Didn’t get around to mentioning it with all my musing on naps and friendship.  And sort of getting cut off early both times I sat down to write.

It was shortly after we set off from Iole’s island in the morning.  Lin was the one to spot it and point it out to us since she was facing east, away from the direction we were moving as one does while rowing.  It was pretty far off, but it was big enough for her to spot the blow spout and for the rest of us to make out a lump on the surface of the water that wasn’t a wave.  Mostly though we just saw the fluke briefly go up as the creature dove back down.  What a sight it would have been to see it up close.

Although, knowing the bounded nature of this sea, I'm a little surprised to learn that this world has whales, particularly ones of that size.  I would have thought they’d need a wider area to roam and support a population.  I suspect this implies that the sea gets deeper than I’d previously suspected as well.  Given Pat’s story about the edge of the world (if I take it to be true and accurate) with the water getting shallow the way it does toward the edge, I imagine there must be some steep dropoffs/rises in the depth of this bowl we’re all living in.

I find myself thinking once more of that metal pillar.  Could it have been a boundary marker of some sort?   Part of the reason we don’t see large sea creatures like that closer to the Village?

Late: The Archivist's Journal, Day 356

On the flip side, once I reached the house I was greeted with the rearrangement of all the contents of the pantry and various drawers and cabinets.  And a large crab on my bed.  I actually smiled when I saw it.  Just such a very silly running gag of a prank contrasted against the darker, more serious concerns of late.  

 I herded the crab into a large bucket that I’ll use to take it down to the water in the morning.  Getting everything else (mostly) back where it belongs took me the rest of the night.  In other circumstances I likely would have found it an irritating chore, but tonight the act of restoring order was a meditative distraction.  Pick the jar up, put it on the shelf.  Grab the fork, put it in the drawer in a neat stack with the other forks.  Small, simple, easy, repetitive actions that keep the mind from wandering and bring structure and stability to my surroundings.  A sense of control, no matter how small.

Now: The Archivist's Journal, Day 358

While Niobe was all for making the days up to Ka’eo’s passing as comfortable as possible, she found the idea of such memorialization strange.  Unnatural even.  It’s not in the culture of the Village to hang onto people or things too tightly once they are gone.  Sure, remembering stories to learn from and events that could be relevant again in the future is well and good, but the remembrance of the departed is a private matter for those that knew them.  And, now that I think about it, the Village is curiously free of memorials of any kind.  No graves of course with the shades being as they are, but no statues in squares or plaques on buildings or monuments of any other sort.  Only the archive and its records that may or may not get cleared out by Theo every few generations.  Were such a memorialization going anywhere other than a likely-to-be-forgotten shelf in the archive or I anyone other than the Archivist, I doubt she would have agreed to it.  As it was, I found myself promising Niobe that I would give her and Ka’ena the final version of whatever we wrote for their approval before committing it to the archival record.

Then: The Archivist's Journal, Day 359

Once she had a few books picked out to try reading I left her to where she’d sat herself down on the floor, back against a bookshelf, and returned to my desk and pet project.  

And then the pacing started.

I didn’t fully register it at first.  Then I figured she was just getting up to swap out a book.  And it probably started that way.  Then she went by my peripheral vision again.  And then again, on a shorter interval this time.  Eventually I looked up from my work and watched her go over to a shelf, pick out a book, sit down on the floor, read a few pages, stand up, put it back, and repeat the process with another shelf, seemingly at random.  Eventually she stopped bothering to sit down.

This obviously wasn’t working.

Leaning over the back of my chair, I pointed out that she could always just go outside for a while.  Outside the Village, not just the library.  It’s not like anyone’s keeping her here or that she has to stay.

Maiko stopped mid-pace and looked up at me, her cheeks shifting to a subtly different shade of red.  

She agreed that, yes, she could do that, thanked me and started walking toward the stairs.

I suppressed a smirk and asked if she wanted me to come with.

A pause at the foot of the stairs to weigh company versus solitude.

An uptick of a mouth’s corner.  Another word of thanks.  The choice of solitude.

I nodded, waved goodbye, and then thought to call up the stairs for her to not push herself too hard out there lest I never hear the end of it from Lin.

[mpxmaxim]

November 2nd 2013 {Self-Para}

{ Just a little glimpse into the life of Maxim a few years ago to help me battle writer's block }

Maxim was exhausted in so many ways. 

His day started with the cry of the rooster he hated so much, telling him that it was feeding time. All he wished for at that moment were five more minutes of the dreamless slumber he grew so attached to. But when he heard the damned sound echo across the farm again, he knew there was no escape. 

There never was.

His days almost always started out the same way. 

With a deep sigh, he pushed the covers away and was nearly instantly hit with a breeze of the autumnal air that slipped past poorly insulated walls. The low temperatures pricked at his skin like tiny needles and he immediately put on the pair of old sweatpants that were at least two sizes too big and most likely older than he was. Maxim didn’t bother putting on socks before he burrowed cold feet into the thick felt boots standing next to the couch he was sleeping on. He sat back down again, still not awake enough to form a proper thought other than the ones that plagued him every morning. The ones that questioned his life so ruthlessly.

‘Even your own mother didn’t want you.’ Lithe fingers brushed over the faded, pinkish scar near his side to remind himself that as much as those words hurt, they were true. It was the last statement he heard from his guardian the day prior.

Any delusions about a few more minutes of rest were washed away with yet another loud call from the damned animal that was undoubtedly mocking him. He sighed and leaned over to grab yesterday’s clothes. An ill-fitting, muddy gray colored t-shirt that might’ve been white back when it was bought. After generations of hand-me-downs, patches to cover holes and stains that merged with the fabric, it was a miracle that it didn’t just fall to pieces every time he touched that damned thing. His face contorted into a frown when he rubbed his eye with one hand and picked up the two-colored hoodie off the ground to put on next before he finally stood up. Now his day has officially begun. 

With yet another cry from Bingo, the rooster, his gaze shifted towards the single bed of his oldest brother. Maxim knew that under that pillow lay a knife that was sharp enough to slice through flesh with little force. Bingo was one of the few creatures that tempted him to risk Boris’s wrath in an attempt to steal it and make the animal’s death look like an accident. He hated that beast.

Maxim silenced a yawn when he passed by the mattress on the ground that his younger brother was sleeping on. He grabbed the cap that was hanging on the pillar of the bunk bed, where his two older brothers were audibly still trapped in a deep slumber. Brushing his hair out of his face, he put the cap on and made his way past the girls’ room and the closed doors of his parents’ room. He knew they weren’t in there, anyway. From where he was standing, he could see them passed out drunk on the couch in the living room; snoring loud enough to draw anyone’s attention. They would stay there for at least few more hours.

Grabbing the puffy vest by the door, he could immediately see his warm breath show itself in the cold air as soon as he stepped outside. The call was obnoxiously loud now. He disregarded intrusive thoughts telling him to just kick the rooster while he picked up the bucket of seeds and tossed handfuls of it around for the chickens. The empty container would later be used to bring in the freshly laid eggs he’d gather. But it wasn’t time for that just yet. For now, he had to stay cold for a bit longer to feed the cows, the horses, the two geese fatefully named Hugo and Karma and the dwindling flock of bunnies that were barely surviving the cold nights. With a soft tone on his tongue and the feedback of happy barks, he fed and unleashed the dogs. It was his firm belief that he was their favorite family member, just like they were his favorite pets on the farm. 

Every morning this was his routine, and every morning he couldn’t wait to get it done and over with. If only for the only short time, when he’d get to experience the first and only sort of solitude and quiet for the rest of the day. 

By the time he finally got to go back inside, the smell of cheap instant coffee and the sound of chatter filled the air. He briefly tightened his grip on the small bouquet of poppies that he stole from someone’s garden just before he entered and handed it over to Xenia in a silent apology for his behavior the previous day. There was always friction between them. She thought he was a cold-hearted asshole, he thought she was too sensitive and naive. And yet, they made up every time no longer than a day later. 

Grabbing a coffee and sitting down between Sonya and Nikita, he simply observed the chaos. Of how, Boris listed their chores for the day and Shurik reminded everyone to write down what they’d need from town when he and Maxim would go out later. And how at the other end of the table, Valeria was whispering something to Alina and Nikita was describing his dream to a still way-too-tired Andrei.

It is then when Maxim leaned back with the hint of a smile on his face and realized that perhaps his favorite part wasn’t the quiet minutes before he went in. Maybe he liked it loud and chaotic and filled with life and laughter after all.

Suddenly, as one of eternally ten, he didn’t feel as exhausted anymore.

[aspenmissing]

ʜᴜɴᴛᴇʀ'ꜱ ᴅᴀᴜɢʜᴛᴇʀ ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ || ꜱᴇᴀꜱᴏɴ 1 || ɴᴇxᴛ ᴇᴘɪꜱᴏᴅᴇ

ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ | ʀɪᴄᴋ | ᴅᴀɴɴʏ | ᴅᴀʀʏʟ | ᴏᴛʜᴇʀꜱ

Back at the camp, Jim was tied to a sturdy tree trunk, the rough bark digging into his back, a necessary precaution to keep him from hurting himself or others. The midday sun beat down harshly, sweat running down his forehead and mingling with the dirt smudged on his face. Shane approached, carrying a bucket of water, and knelt down beside him.

“Jim, take some water,” Shane said gently, his voice steady but with a note of concern.

Jim’s tired eyes flicked toward Shane, a flicker of trust in them. “All right.”

Shane smiled faintly, the corners of his mouth twitching. “Yeah?”

Jim nodded. Shane dipped a cup into the bucket, lifting it carefully and bringing it to Jim’s lips. “Here you go, bud.”

As Jim drank, his eyes kept drifting over to a nearby table where Lori and Carol sat with their children, the faint sounds of Danny’s voice carrying through as he helped with some kind of lesson. The children looked hopeful despite the grim world around them.

“Pour some on my head?” Jim asked quietly, his throat still dry from the heat.

“Yeah,” Shane replied without hesitation. He scooped more water and gently poured it over Jim’s head. Jim closed his eyes, letting the cool water trickle down, a visible sigh of relief escaping him.

“Cooling you down, huh?” Shane asked, watching the water drip from Jim’s tangled hair.

“Yeah…” Jim murmured, his voice rough and tired. “How long you gonna keep me like this?”

Shane’s eyes hardened just a bit. “Until I don’t think you’re a danger to yourself or others.”

Jim nodded slowly, understanding the necessity, and his gaze drifted back to the group by the table.

“Sorry if I scared the children,” Jim said softly. The group looked toward him, their expressions a mix of worry and compassion.

“You had a sunstroke. Nobody’s blaming you,” Lori said warmly, offering him a reassuring smile.

“Not scared now, are you?” Jim asked, glancing toward the children with a tentative smile.

“No, sir,” Sophia replied, though a flicker of fear lingered in her eyes.

“It’s not your fault, Mr.,” Danny said, turning in his seat and smiling gently at Jim.

Jim’s face softened at the kindness. He looked back at Lori and Carl, a small spark of hope kindling in his chest.

“Your mama’s right. Sun just cooked my head is all,” he said with a weak chuckle.

“Jim, do you know why you were digging? Can you say?” Dale asked, leaning in patiently.

“I had a reason... don’t remember,” Jim answered honestly.

Dale nodded slowly. “Something you dreamt last night. Your dad was in it. You were too.” He looked from Carl to Danny. “You and your sister were there too.”

Danny’s head tilted, confused but curious.

“You two are worried about them, aren’t you?” Dale asked gently.

“They’re not back yet,” Carl said, the worry plain in his voice. Lori rubbed their backs comfortingly, a quiet pillar of support.

“Your dad’s a police officer, son. He helps people. Probably just came across folks needing help, that’s all,” Jim said softly to soothe the boy’s fears. “That man — he’s tough as nails. I don’t know him well, but I could see it in him. Am I right?” Jim glanced at Shane.

“Oh yeah,” Shane answered without hesitation.

“And your sister,” Jim continued, turning to Danny. “I don’t know who she was before this, but from what I’ve seen, she’d do anything to help those close to her. And I know she’d never leave you.” He looked between Carl and Danny. “There ain’t nothing gonna stop them from getting back here to you, I promise you that.”

“Thank you, Mr.,” Danny said, nodding gratefully. Lori smiled softly at Jim, silently thanking him for easing her son’s worries.

“All right,” Shane said, picking up the bucket and turning toward the main area. “Who wants to help me clean some fish, huh?”

“Sweet! Come on, you two!” Carl shouted, grabbing Sophia’s hand and running after Shane.

“Stay with Carol, all right?” Lori called after them. Carol and Dale followed quickly.

Danny stayed behind, engrossed in his school book. Lori stood, approached Jim, and bent down to speak, but Jim cut her off gently.

“You keep your boy close,” he said, looking her straight in the eye. There was a tremor in his voice, a flicker of fear she couldn’t ignore. Lori nodded, silent but resolute, before turning to Danny.

“You gonna be all right here?” she asked softly.

Danny nodded, eyes still on the book. Lori gave a small smile and hurried off to catch up with the others.

“You not gonna join them?” Jim asked Danny.

The boy shook his head. “I don’t really like fish. Anything slimy just makes me shiver.” He went back to his book, settling into a quiet silence beside Jim.

After a moment, Jim broke it. “What you readin’?”

“Just a school book on math. I’m not the best at it, and I promised Y/N I’d keep going where we left off.”

“Yeah, same here. Math was never my strong suit,” Jim said with a nostalgic sigh. “But my little girl? She was a smart kid — smarter than her age, that is. She must’ve got that from her mama.” His eyes shimmered with unshed tears at the memory.

Danny looked down briefly, then gathered his courage and walked over to Jim, sitting opposite him and placing the book between them.

“When Y/N and I separated from my brother, she always told me we’d see him again one day,” Danny said with a hopeful smile. “The same can be said for you. One day, you’ll see your family again. That I can promise.”

Jim looked up, a grateful smile breaking through the weariness.

“Thank you, kid. Thank you.” He sniffed, brushing his sleeve across his eyes. “Now, how about I see if I can help you with your math problems, yeah?”

“That would help a lot!” Danny said eagerly, pointing to a particularly tricky question.

Back inside the dimly lit building, the group circled a young kid named Miguel, who sat stiffly on a cracked wooden chair. His eyes darted nervously around the room, hands clenched in his lap.

Rick leaned forward, voice steady but firm. “Those men you were with — we need to know where they went.”

Miguel’s jaw tightened. “I ain’t telling you nothing.”

T-Dog stepped forward, frustration evident in his voice as he glanced at Daryl. “Jesus, man, what the hell happened back there?”

Daryl paced impatiently, boots scraping the dusty floor. “I told you — this little turd and his douchebag friends came outta nowhere and jumped me.” His voice was rough, anger simmering beneath every word.

Miguel snapped back, voice sharp and defensive. “You’re the one who jumped me, puto, screamin’ about findin’ his brother like it’s my damn fault.”

Daryl’s eyes narrowed dangerously. “They took Glenn and Y/N. Could’ve taken Merle, too.”

Miguel chuckled, a cruel sound that grated on everyone’s nerves. “Merle? What kinda hick name is that? Wouldn’t name my dog Merle. Y/N, though — that’s a hot name for the lady back there. Shame her pretty face got smashed.”

Daryl’s teeth clenched tight and he tries to take a swing at the kid. Rick holds him off but Daryl still kicks out at him.

“Damn it, Daryl. Back off.” Rick’s voice was sharp, warning clear.

Daryl huffed but didn’t argue. Instead, he walked behind Rick’s back and rummaged through Glenn's bag, pulling out something wrapped in bloodied cloth.

“Want to see what happened to the last guy that pissed me off?” Daryl asked, his voice low and threatening. He unwrapped the cloth and dropped Merle’s severed hand into Miguel’s lap.

Miguel’s eyes went wide, panic flooding his face. He scrambled backward, bumping into the wall and nearly toppling over.

Daryl closed in, grabbing Miguel by the collar, his face inches from the kid’s. “Start with the feet this time.”

Rick stepped between them again, steadying Daryl with a firm grip on his shoulders. “Enough.” Rick’s tone softened slightly as he addressed Miguel again. “The men you were with took our friends. His daughter.” He nodded toward Daryl. “All we want is to talk to them. See if we can work something out.”

Miguel swallowed hard, the fight draining out of him. Slowly, he nodded, eyes flickering with reluctant cooperation.

A short time later, the group stood outside the hideout where Miguel’s crew was holed up. Rick shook something in his hand—a handful of bullets—before glancing over at T-Dog.

“You sure you’re up for this?” Rick asked.

“Yeah,” T-Dog replied, nodding.

“Okay.” Rick loaded his shotgun while T-Dog grabbed his gun bag and checked his own weapon. Daryl kept a watchful eye on Miguel, who sat nearby, handcuffed but smirking.

“One wrong move,” Daryl growled, “you get an arrow in the ass. Just so you know.”

Miguel laughed, unfazed. “G’s gonna take that arrow out of my ass and shove it up yours. Just so you know.”

Rick frowned. “G?”

“Guillermo. He’s the man here.”

"Okay then," Rick cocks his gun, before looking to Daryl. "Let’s go see Guillermo.”

=

They slipped through the broken window and stepped into the narrow alley beyond. Ahead loomed the shell of a large brick building—its roof long gone, the interior nothing but empty walls and rubble. Rick pushed the kid forward into the lead as they cautiously made their way through the ruins toward the double doors at the far end.

Rick’s eyes darted constantly, scanning every broken window and shadowed corner. Every sense was on high alert for any sign of danger.

A few steps behind the kid, Rick and Daryl kept their guns raised and trained steadily on him. The kid stopped roughly fifteen feet from the heavy doors. They creaked open slowly.

Inside, several figures remained hidden in the shadows, their features blurred and indistinct. Then a man stepped forward—a slight, wiry figure, hands empty, unarmed.

“You okay, little man?” Guillermo asked Miguel.

Miguel winced. “They’re gonna cut off my feet, carnal.”

Guillermo glanced at Rick, eyebrows raised. “Cops do that?”

Rick shook his head. “Not him. This redneck puto here—he cut off some dude’s hand. Showed it to me.”

“Shut up.” Felipe stepped out behind Guillermo, gun raised and aimed at Daryl.

“Hey, that’s that Vato, homes. Shot me in the ass with an arrow. What’s up, homes, huh?” Felipe sneered.

“Chill, ese, chill.” Guillermo shoved Felipe’s hand down before looking to Rick. “This true? He wants Miguelito’s feet? That’s pretty sick, man.”

Rick took a slow breath, trying to keep his voice steady. “We were hoping for a calm discussion.”

Guillermo scoffed. “That hillbilly jumps Felipe’s little cousin, beats on him, threatens to cut off his feet; Felipe gets an arrow in the ass; and one of my men gets bitten by your lady friend. And you want a calm discussion? You fascinate me.”

“Heat of the moment. Mistakes were made on both sides,” Rick said carefully.

Guillermo’s eyes flicked to Daryl. “Who’s that dude to you anyway? Don’t look related.”

“He’s one of our group, more or less. I’m sure you got a few like him.”

“You got my brother in there?” Daryl asked, voice low.

“Sorry, fresh out of white boys.” Guillermo smirked. “But I got an Asian and a pretty white lady. You interested?”

“I got one of yours. You got two of mine. I'll throw in my gun. Sounds like an even trade.”

Guillermo snorted. “Don’t sound even to me.”

“G, come on, man,” Miguel said, looking betrayed.

“My people got attacked. Where’s the compensation for their pain and suffering? More to the point, where’s my bag of guns?”

Rick raised an eyebrow. “Guns?”

“The bag Miguel saw in the street. The one Felipe and Jorge were going back to get. That bag of guns.”

“You’re mistaken.”

“I don’t think so.”

“About it being yours. It’s my bag of guns.”

“The bag was in the street. Anybody could come along and say it’s theirs. Am I supposed to just take your word? What’s stopping my people from unloading on you right now and me taking what’s mine?” Guillermo’s men began flexing their fingers on triggers, ready to fight.

"You could do that. "Rick nodded toward the wall where T-Dog lay prone on the roof, sniper rifle trained on Guillermo and his men. “Or not.”

“Come on, man. Make the trade. Please.” T-Dog muttered under his breath.

Guillermo’s gaze shifted upward, then back to Rick and Daryl. Two men appeared on the roof holding a bound figure with a bag over his head. When the bag was ripped off, it revealed a disheveled Glenn, gagged with tape over his mouth. He struggled to speak, muffled and desperate. Y/N was nowhere to be seen.

Rick bit his lip, fury burning beneath his calm exterior.

Daryl raised his bow, pointing it at Guillermo. “Where’s my daughter?”

Guillermo’s eyes narrowed, but he ignored the question. “I see two options.” He looked Rick dead in the eye. “You come back with Miguel and my bag of guns, everybody walks. Or you come back locked and loaded. Then we’ll see which side spills more blood.”

Both groups slowly backed away as the Vatos retreated inside, slamming the door shut. Rick glanced up at Glenn one last time before turning away, heart pounding.

Back inside the building, Rick dropped the bag of guns onto the table and unzipped it, revealing the cache inside.

“Those guns are worth more than gold,” Daryl said quietly. “Gold won’t protect your family or put food on the table. You’re really gonna give all this up... for that kid?”

“If I knew we’d get Glenn and Y/N back, maybe I’d consider it,” T-Dog replied, sitting beside Miguel. “But you think that Vato across the way’s just gonna hand them over without a fight?”

Miguel bristled, offended. “You calling G a liar?”

"Are you a part of this?" Daryl questions, slapping Miguel across the mouth “You wanna keep your teeth, or what?”

T-Dog held up a hand, trying to steady things. “Question is, do you trust that man’s word?”

“No,” Daryl spat back. “The question is what you’re willing to bet on it. Could be more than those guns. Could be your life.”

“What little life I got, I owe to them,” Rick said, eyes locking on Daryl. “I was nobody to Glenn and Y/N — just some idiot wandering around until I got stuck in a tank. Y/N could’ve shot me dead, and Glenn could’ve walked away, but they didn’t. Neither will I. Daryl, this is your daughter we’re talking about too. Wouldn’t you do anything for her?”

Daryl’s jaw tightened. “Of course I would… but you really gonna hand over guns that might save both our and their lives?”

“I never said I was handing them over without something in return. There’s nothing forcing you two to stay here. You should get out. Head back to camp.”

"And tell your family what?" T-Dog questions. Rick looks at Daryl.

"I ain't going anywherre without my kid." Daryl says, reachimg down for a gun.

Miguel jumped to his feet. “Come on, this is crazy.” Without a word, Daryl stops him and points him back to the chair. Miguel sits back down, upset. “Just do like G says.”

The three men started loading the guns, the tension thick as the deal hung in the balance.

They stepped through the window into the alley, then crossed to the shell of a large brick building—no roof, no interior left. Miguel was tied up, a gag stuffed in his mouth. Daryl’s gun was pressed firmly against his back, pushing him toward the door.

The door swung open and Daryl shoved Miguel inside, stepping in behind him. Rick and T-Dog followed closely, weapons raised as the door slammed shut behind them. Instantly, the group inside surrounded them, guns trained and ready.

Guillermo’s eyes flicked to the bag around Rick's back “I see my guns, but they’re not all in the bag.”

“That’s because they’re not yours,” Rick said flatly, keeping his gun pointed at Guillermo.

One of the men, Felipe, raised his gun, voice rough. “Let’s just unload on these fools right now, ese.” Rick didn’t flinch.

"I don’t think you understand the gravity of this situation.” G warns.

“No, I think I’m pretty clear,” Rick said, pulling a knife from his belt. With a quick cut, he freed Miguel and pushed him toward Felipe, who caught the kid and pulled him back to safety. Rick then takes a gun out the bag, sliding it across the floor.

“You have your man and a gun. Now I want my two.” Rick’s eyes narrowed.

Guillermo stepped forward, voice low and dangerous. “I’m gonna chop your people up and feed them to my dogs.” His face twisted into a grin. “They’re the nastiest man-eating beasts you’ve ever seen. Got ‘em from Satan himself at a yard sale. I told you how it’s gonna be. You deaf or something?”

Rick leveled his gaze. “Nope. I heard you loud and clear. You said ‘come locked and loaded.’” He motioned to Daryl and T-Dog, who cocked their guns. The Vatos followed suit.

“Okay then. Here we are.” Both groups pointed weapons at each other, tension snapping in the stale air.

Suddenly, a voice cut through the thick silence. “Felipe! Felipe!” An old woman emerged from behind the crowd.

“Abuela, go back with the others. Now,” Felipe said, holding out his hand to gently steer her away.

“Get that old lady out of the line of fire!” Daryl barked.

Guillermo glanced at the woman. “Abuela, listen to your mijo, okay? This isn’t the place for you.”

The grandmother ignored them all and approached Rick, her eyes sharp despite her frailty. “Mr. Gilbert is having trouble breathing. He needs his asthma medicine. Carlitos couldn’t find it.”

“Felipe, take care of it. And take your grandmother with you,” Guillermo ordered.

Felipe nodded, softly taking his grandmother’s arm. “¡Abuela! Ven conmigo, por favor.”

The grandmother stopped when she saw Rick. “Who are those men?”

“Por favor, ven conmigo,” Felipe urged her gently, leading her away.

“Don’t you take him,” she said, looking directly at Rick, her voice steady despite the situation. “Felipe’s a good boy. He has his troubles, but he pulls himself together. We need him here.”

Rick nodded slowly. “Ma’am, I’m not here to arrest your grandson.”

“Then what do you want him for?” she asked.

“We’re trying to find a missing man — Glenn — and a woman named Y/N.”

“The Asian boy and the sweet girl? They’re with Mr. Gilbert. Come, I’ll show you.” She grasped Rick’s hand firmly and led him onward.

Guillermo shook his head, knowing he couldn’t stop her. “Let them pass.”

The Vatos lowered their weapons, clearing a path as Rick’s group followed the grandmother through the building.

=

They entered a garden-like courtyard, then another building resembling a nursing home. Passing a room, Rick glimpsed a woman gently offering a cup to an elderly patient.

“Abuela, por favor, take me to him,” Felipe said softly.

The grandmother led Felipe toward a small room where an older man lay struggling for breath.

As they continued down a quiet corridor, they passed two elderly people sitting calmly, seemingly untouched by the chaos beyond their walls. Rick realized the Vatos weren’t just fighters—they were protectors, shielding these vulnerable residents.

Finally, they reached a gymnasium where many elderly sat watching a commotion. A crowd surrounded a man gasping for air.

“All right, nice and easy. Just breathe, just relax,” Felipe coaxed, helping Mr. Gilbert use his inhaler.

Rick’s eyes then caught movement nearby: Glenn and Y/N standing side by side, bruised but alive.

“What the hell is this?” Rick asked, relief mixing with frustration.

“An asthma attack. He just couldn’t catch his breath,” Y/N said, turning her bruised face toward the group. Daryl immediately wrapped an arm around her, pulling her close.

“Glad you’re okay, kid,” he muttered. “I thought something bad had happened when you weren’t on the roof.”

Y/N gave a tired smile. “Like I said—only a Dixon can kill a Dixon.” She winced. “Though I’ve still got a banging headache.”

T-Dog’s eyes narrowed at them both. “I thought you two were getting eaten by dogs, man.”

Glenn and Y/N glanced toward the “man-eating dogs” — three tiny Chihuahuas trotting nearby.

“They are actually a lot more sweeter when you get to know them." Y/N joked.

Rick looked back to Guillermo. “Can I have a word?” He pulled Guillermo aside as men from both sides kept their weapons ready. “You’re the dumbest son of a bitch I’ve ever met. We walked in ready to kill every last one of you.”

Guillermo shrugged. “Well, I’m glad it didn’t come to that.”

“If it had, that blood would be on my hands.”

“Mine too. We’ve had to fight before—to protect what little we have left: food, medicine.” Guillermo gestured to the nursing home. “The staff all left, just left these people to die. Me and Felipe stayed.”

Rick nodded slowly. “What are you, doctors?”

“Felipe’s a nurse, special care provider. Me? I’m just the custodian.”

After a moment, Guillermo led Rick and his group to a separate room to rest.

“What about the rest of your crew?” Rick asked.

“The Vatos check in on their parents, grandparents. Most decide to stay once they see how things are. We need the muscle. The worst we’ve met since everything fell apart are the kind who take by force.”

“That’s not who we are.”

“How was I supposed to know? Your people attacked mine and showed up with Miguel hostage—doesn’t look good.” Guillermo’s gaze sharpened. “Guess the world hasn’t changed.”

T-Dog shook his head. “No… it’s the same as ever. The weak get taken.”

Guillermo nodded. “We do what we can here. The Vatos fix cars, plan to get the old folks out of the city. Most can’t even get to the bathroom on their own, but it keeps us busy, and that counts. We barred windows, welded doors shut except one entrance. The Vatos scavenge, watch the perimeter day and night, and wait. These people look to me now—I don’t even know why.”

“Because they can,” Rick said, handing Guillermo his shotgun.

Rick then opened the bag of guns and began dividing them evenly between the two groups.

Later, the small group trudged back toward the spot where they’d left the truck, each of them carrying guns and gear, the weight of the day hanging heavy in their movements.

“Admit it,” Glenn said with a teasing grin, breaking the tense silence, “you only came back to Atlanta for the hat.”

Rick shot him a sly smirk. “Don’t tell anybody,” he replied, adjusting the strap on their rifle.

Daryl shook his head, eyes narrowed. “You gave away half our guns and ammo back there.”

“Not nearly half,” Y/N shot back confidently, glancing over their shoulder.

“For what?” Daryl’s voice sharpened. “A bunch of old folks who are gonna die off any minute anyway? Seriously, how long do you think they’ve got?”

Y/N shook their head, voice soft but firm. “Dad, come on. They’re just trying to survive, same as us.”

Rick’s gaze dropped for a moment, quieter now. “How long do any of us have?” he murmured.

The group slowed as they reached the spot where their truck had been parked.

But now... it was gone.

“Oh my God,” Glenn breathed, stepping forward to where the truck had sat just moments ago.

“Where the hell’s our van?” Daryl’s voice cut through the silence, sharp with anger. He scanned the empty stretch of street, fists clenched tight.

“We left it right here. Who would take it?” Glenn asked, frustration and disbelief rising.

Y/N’s voice was flat, almost cold. “Merle.”

Rick’s eyes darkened, a hard edge settling over his features as he stared off into the distance where Merle had disappeared.

“He’s gonna be bringing some vengeance back to camp,” Daryl said quietly, voice tight with warning.

Back at camp, the mood was warm—almost surreal. The fire crackled at the heart of the gathering, casting a flickering amber glow over tired, familiar faces. It smelled of smoke, fish, and the piney tang of the nearby forest. Laughter—rare and precious—bubbled through the dusk like a fragile echo of the world they used to know.

Plates of freshly caught fish passed between calloused hands. It wasn’t much, but it was real, and it was good.

“Pass the fish, please,” Sophia said shyly, her voice barely rising above the chatter.

“Here you go,” Carol replied with a soft smile, placing a piece on her daughter’s plate.

“Man, oh man, that’s good.” Shane leaned back with a satisfied sigh, rubbing his belly. “I missed this.”

For a long moment, all was quiet—just the sound of chewing, the fire crackling, someone’s quiet hum, and the contented sighs of a group who, for tonight, pretended they were safe. Pretended that tomorrow would come.

Then Morales broke the silence, his voice edged with curiosity. “I gotta ask you something, man. It’s been driving me nuts.”

Dale raised an eyebrow. “What’s that?”

“That watch.” Morales pointed with his chin. “Every day, like clockwork. I see you winding that thing like you’re keeping mass in some backwoods chapel.”

Dale glanced down at his watch, its face scratched and worn. “What about it?”

“I just don’t get it,” Morales continued. “The world’s gone to hell. You still care about winding a damn watch?”

“I’ve wondered too,” Jacqui chimed in, folding her arms. “We’re barely surviving, but you never miss it. Like it’s a ritual.”

“I’m missing the point here,” Dale said, but his voice held no bite. Just a soft, thoughtful edge.

“Unless I’ve misread the signs,” Morales said with a half-smile, “this ain’t exactly the golden age of punctuality.”

Dale looked up slowly, his expression thoughtful as he turned the watch over in his fingers.

“Time… it’s important. To keep track. Of the days. Of who we are.” His eyes met Andrea’s. “Don’t you think, Andrea? Back me up.”

Andrea shook her head, lips pressed tight, her eyes distant.

Dale cleared his throat, pressing on. “There’s something a father once said to his son, when he gave him a watch passed down through generations. He said, ‘I give you the mausoleum of all hope and desire, which will fit your individual needs no better than it did mine or my father’s before me. I give it to you not that you may remember time, but that you may forget it for a moment now and then… and not spend all your breath trying to conquer it.’”

Amy blinked. “You are so weird,” she muttered, her expression twisted in amusement.

The firelight caught the corners of grins and soft chuckles rippled around the circle, laughter dancing among them like sparks from the fire.

“It’s not me,” Dale said with a grin. “That’s Faulkner. William Faulkner. Or my bad paraphrasing.”

Amy pushed to her feet and dusted off her jeans.

“Where are you going?” Andrea asked.

Amy waved a hand. “I have to pee. Jeez, you try to be discreet around here…” More laughter.

As Amy walked off toward the RV, Danny sat quietly by the fire, picking half-heartedly at his fish. His fork scraped the metal bowl without lifting a bite.

Jim, sitting nearby, noticed.

“You not hungry?” he asked, voice low and kind.

Danny glanced up and shook his head. “I know I shouldn’t be picky. I’m just… not into fish.”

Jim nodded, reached into his jacket, and pulled out a chocolate bar—dusty but wrapped. He handed it over.

“How about chocolate?” Danny’s eyes widened. He reached out, hesitant, and Jim pressed the bar into his hand. “You gotta eat something,” Jim said, his voice gentle but firm.

“Thank you, sir,” Danny replied, quietly passing Jim his untouched bowl. He unwrapped the chocolate with care, taking a small bite and letting it melt on his tongue.

SCREACH

A scream. Piercing. Raw.

Amy.

She stumbled from the RV, blood streaming from her arm, her hand clutching a savage wound.

“Amy!” Andrea screamed, standing up so fast her chair tipped over behind her.

Everything stopped. The laughter. The chewing. The warmth. From the woods, shadows shifted—walkers, dozens of them, their snarls and groans rising like a wave of rot and death.

“Mom!” Carl cried, scrambling backward.

“Carl!” Lori shouted, grabbing him, dragging him down.

“Lori, get him down!” Shane barked, raising his shotgun. The blast tore through a walker’s skull. Then another.

Danny froze, trembling, before bolting to his feet. Jim caught him by the shoulders and yanked him close.

=

On the trail, Rick, Glenn, T-Dog, Y/N, and Daryl heard the distant scream. Then the shots.

“Oh my God,” Y/N breathed.

“Go! Go!” Rick shouted.

They ran.

=

Back at camp, chaos erupted. Walkers poured through the trees, clawing, biting, dragging people down. Screams filled the night.

Jim grabbed a bat and swung hard, splintering bone. He shoved Danny behind him, shielding him. Dale has his rifle, shooting walkers while Jacqui stands besides him, baseball bat in the air. Carol shelters Sophia behind them.

Nearby, Morales takes a walker down using his own baseball bat, protecting his wife and kids. Carl is screaming and panicking, Lori holding him close as they hide behind Shane.

“Mom! Mom!” Carl shouted, burying himself in Lori’s arms.

“I’m here, baby, I’m right here!” she whispered, shielding him with her body. "Shane. What do we do? Shane?"

"Follow me!" Shane orders.

A second walker bites Amy in the neck, and Andrea screams, running to her. "NO! NO!" Jim hits Amy's walker and it goes down, while Andrea crawls to Amy. "Oh! Oh! Oh God! Oh my god!"

Jim moved fast, gripping Danny’s arm tightly and clearing a path through the chaos. “Stay close, son!” he shouted, swinging his bat and taking down a snarling walker.

Danny clung to his side, wide-eyed, heart hammering in his chest.

“Mr—watch out!” Danny cried.

Jim spun—too late. A walker lunged, grabbing at his shoulder. Danny screamed and bolted, tearing through the camp with his arms pumping, dodging bodies—living and dead—as panic overtook him.

“Come on! Stay close!” Shane shouted, rallying the group. He turned, saw Lori frozen, holding Carl tightly.

“Carol!” Lori called out, spotting her friend cradling Sophia close and guiding her backward.

Morales swung his bat with force, knocking two walkers down before turning to his family. “Inside! Now! Get to the RV!”

Lori spun—and her breath caught. Danny.

The boy was out in the open, screaming, tears streaming down his dirt-smudged cheeks as a pack of walkers chased close behind.

“Shane! Shane!” she cried, slamming her hand against his chest. “Danny’s out there!”

“Danny! This way!” Shane shouted, trying to wave him down—but Danny vanished into the dark tree line, swallowed by smoke and shadows.

“Danny!” Lori shouted, instinct driving her forward. But Shane caught her and shoved her behind him.

“Stay behind me!” he barked, eyes scanning for another threat. Carl whimpered, clutching his mother’s leg.

“Get behind me, come on!” Lori said quickly, pulling Carl close, shielding him.

Shane turned to Morales. “Morales, work your way up here—now!”

“On it!” Morales called back, batting down another walker and herding his family toward the Winnebago.

“Let’s go! Come on!” Shane bellowed. “Make your way to the RV!”

gunfire.

Rick, Glenn, Y/N, T-Dog, and Daryl burst through the trees at a full sprint. Their eyes widened at the chaos—but none of them hesitated.

Rick raised his Colt, dropping a walker just before it reached Carol. Glenn and T-Dog unloaded with their shotguns, clearing a path.

When their ammo ran dry, they didn’t stop. Rick drew his revolver again, firing with precision. Daryl smashed one down with the butt of his rifle. Y/N, breath sharp, leapt into motion with her knives—slashing, stabbing, twisting with practiced ease.

They fought like they had done it a hundred times—and now, every blow was for the people they still had time to save.

"Baby! Carl! Baby!" Rick shouts, looking for his family.

"Dad!" Carl cries, running into his dad's arms.

Rick dropped to his knees, clutching him tightly. Lori stumbled toward them, tears streaming down her face, overcome with relief as she wrapped her arms around them both.

"Danny!?" Y/N shouts, looking to the others. "Where's Danny? Where is he?!"

Lori turned, her voice trembling as she pointed toward the dark trees. “He ran. He ran into the woods—they were on him—we tried to stop him—”

“You let him run off?!” Y/N’s voice cracked like a whip, thick with panic and heartbreak. She lunged forward, ready to tear into the forest after him, but Daryl was faster. He grabbed her arm and pulled her back.

"Y/-"

“Let me go, Dad! she screamed, thrashing. “He’s out there! He’s alone! Let me go!” Her knees gave out and she dropped to the dirt, sobs breaking loose as Daryl caught her, holding her close, his arms a shield as her grief overtook her.

“Y/N!”

Her head snapped up at the sound.

Out of the trees came Jim—limping slightly, shirt torn, blood smeared down his arm. In his arms, held tight against his chest, was Danny.

Alive.

“Danny!” she cried, scrambling up and out of Daryl's hold.

Jim gently set the boy down, and Danny ran the rest of the way—straight into Y/N’s arms.

She caught him hard, pulling him in, sobbing into his hair. “I got you—I got you—I got you…”

Danny clung to her just as tightly, his small frame shaking with silent tears.

Daryl walked over slowly, heart pounding, and ruffled Danny’s hair with a relieved breath. “You scared the hell outta us, little man.”

Y/N looked over Danny’s shoulder, her eyes finding Jim’s. “Thank you,” she said hoarsely, voice raw with emotion. “Thank you so much.”

Jim only nodded—quiet, exhausted, and already turning back toward the camp where screams and smoke still lingered in the air.

The others gathered slowly, their movements heavy, as if the weight of what had just happened pulled on every limb. Smoke drifted through the cooling night air, mingling with the acrid scent of gunpowder and blood. The fire still crackled, its light casting long, flickering shadows across the ground.

Bodies lay scattered in the glow—some walkers, twisted and gory, others unmistakably familiar. Friends. Family. Now still.

Andrea knelt in the dirt, cradling Amy in her arms. She whispered to her softly, though her voice trembled too much to form full words. Her hand gently brushed Amy’s hair from her pale face, tucking it behind her ear like she used to when they were little girls. Her tears fell freely now, unchecked.

No one dared interrupt.

Carol stood nearby with Sophia clutched to her chest, one hand covering the girl’s eyes. Lori held Carl tight, both of them shaken and silent. Morales sat with his back against the RV, one arm around his wife, eyes glassy. Glenn stared blankly at the bodies, knuckles white around his bloodied bat. Rick had one hand on Carl’s head, the other on Lori’s back, gaze lost somewhere far beyond the camp.

Y/N knelt with Danny beside her, one arm wrapped around the boy protectively, the other covering her mouth as if trying to hold in the sobs still threatening to break loose. Daryl stood just behind them, grim-faced and still, eyes scanning for any sign of more danger—though the attack was clearly over.

The silence that hung over the camp was absolute. Thick. Suffocating.

Then, in a voice barely louder than the wind, Jim spoke.

“I remembered my dream,” he said, staring ahead with hollow eyes.

Heads turned slowly toward him.

“Why I dug those holes.”

His voice was soft, but the words hit like thunder. One by one, the group looked to the row of fresh graves—shallow, half-covered with dirt. Then at the fallen. At the blood pooling in the soil. The lives that had been taken in minutes.

A warning they hadn’t understood. A warning they hadn’t believed.

Now fulfilled.

A dream come true, in the worst possible way. No one spoke. There was nothing left to say. The fire crackled on, untouched. Smoke coiled through the air like a ghost.

And the night—dark and endless—swallowed their sorrow whole.

[falskihundr]

So distracted by their overwhelming desire for a hot bath and several days of not moving, and the constant battle they seemed to be having to stay awake, they hardly noticed when there proceeded to be no further conversation about getting Revenant help, as he said they would.

The hunter barely noticed anything; his flickering optics and the quieting of his breath evading them. It wasn't until his head dropped to pillow itself on their shoulder that they startled slightly and came back to attention.

But they didn't move him. In fact, they had to fight tooth and nail to keep from giving in to the impulse to tilt their head and rest it on top of his. They managed, barely. Instead Bloodhound remained a solid pillar of support for him to rest against.

The warmth and weight of him made it difficult to stay awake, and they might have even dozed once or twice. Oblivious to how still he had gone. Until their ride reached its destination, and they nudged him gently with their elbow. "Revna, we're here." No answer.

When they nudged him again and received silence still, the lifelessness of him sank in like a bucket of ice water pouring over them. Mortified and shocked, they sat frozen until the MRVIN prompted them for further instruction. Without replying, they exited the vehicle, dragging him with them; one arm thrown over their shoulder and his dead weight leaned against them.

They couldn't just leave him . . . but they didn't know what else to do.

He had disappeared for over a month, the last time. What if it happened again? What if he never came back at all? All because of their carelessness. At a loss, they used the last of their remaining strength to haul his shell back to their compound suite. They would keep him there, until they could figure out their next plan. And they would wallow in their guilt silently.

He seemed able to walk without wavering. His stride was lax; all that might keep the other Legend from keeping pace with him was their own fatigue.

"We'll talk about it in the car," the sim responded tiredly. The hand still set against his wounds was coated in machine blood. The feeling of the stuff moving down through his mechanical guts was IRKSOME. By the time they'd reached the first floor, Revenant was starting to feel lightheaded, but it was only when he had stepped outside and they seemed to be in the clear - and when he could STAND STILL - that he drew the burner phone from its pouch along his chest again.

Now he just had to stay on his feet until their ride arrived.

It didn't take long, as this lab was closer to town. Like their first ride together the night before, Revenant was silent again when the MRVN driver looked to them for a destination. It wasn't far into the ride, however, when the yellow glow of the simulacrum's optics began to wane. Dimming, and lighting again. Dimming and lighting again.

Some soft breath of static left him, something too quiet for his worn out vocoder to quite produce. Slowly, he leaned over until he was slumped against Bloodhound's shoulder; it couldn't have been comfortable, but he seemed intent on resting his head there. They were WARM against the singed half of his face.