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suzukiblu · 11 months

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Day ten of fic NaNoWriMo, obligatory sugar daddy Tim/sugar baby Kon AU.

The waitress comes over with another steaming mug of hot chocolate for Kon and Tim awkwardly orders not-Robin's-coffee-order, which since he's panicking he defaults to Caroline Hill's usual for. She's a med student, she drinks enough caffeine for his tastes. And also she likes extremely sugary drinks, which is definitely to his taste.

Look, Robin can't drink an iced brown sugar oat milk espresso with six extra pumps of syrup and four extra shots of espresso, especially in front of the exact teammate who would tease him the most mercilessly for having a finicky drink order, but Caroline Hill can drink anything she wants, and Tim Drake is just gonna be channeling her for this conversation, he guesses. Her Twitter account already got him here to begin with, so he might as well.

“That is a concerning amount of caffeine in one drink, dude,” Kon observes with a raised eyebrow instead of teasing him over either the syrup or oat milk, which is not actually what Tim expected to hear. But, well, he's not Robin right now, so maybe Kon isn't feeling the same urge to start shit that he usually seems to.

Tim's not sure how to feel about that. But Robin is, technically, an “authority” figure and a fellow superhero, and Tim Drake is just some guy, so . . .

Actually, Tim doesn't really know how Kon gets along with civilian guys. He's seen him flirt up plenty of civilian girls, obviously, but he doesn't really seem to talk to all that many guys. Like . . . ever, actually.

Weird, he thinks, repressing a frown.

“How would you know, you're Kryptonian,” he says.

“Half-Kryptonian,” Kon says, then waves a hand around the café. “And like, you know, also this entire planet is full of people who can just tell me these things. Five thousand milligrams is the minimum lethal dose of caffeine for a healthy adult, which is something like seventy-five shots of espresso, but more than four or five shots in a day is still not gonna be great for you, and you just ordered six.”

“. . . how the hell do you just know that off the top of your head?” Tim asks, blinking at him in absolute bewilderment, and Kon smirks in smug amusement.

“Dude, I was programmed by exhausted grad students pulling six months straight of all-nighters,” he says, pointing at his own temple. “I know every possible thing there is to know about every possible caffeine delivery system. Including the illegal ones and the ones the government hasn't yet realized should be illegal.”

“Huh,” Tim says, still more than a little bewildered. That does make sense, he guesses, but since Kon's already told the team he has absolutely no useful background in any kind of science or math past the absolute kiddie-level basics when they were all exchanging information about all their personal training and experience, it's still a surprise to hear. Shouldn't Cadmus have prioritized an actual education over things like safe caffeine intake for baseline humans, especially since Kon's safe intake level is probably different from a baseline human's anyway? Which–well, he guesses Kon did get cracked out of his cloning tube early, but still. They at least should've been building up the basics for him. Like–more than the kiddie-level basics, he means.

Cadmus is definitely not capable enough to be in charge of Kon. Like, at all. Ever. Tim has fewer and fewer regrets about this whole plan every minute, in fact. If anything, he should've started drafting it the day he met Rex Leech, never mind the fact that Kon hadn't technically existed yet at the time. Or after the Poison Ivy incident, maybe. At the least he should've done up an outline or two after he and Kon and Bart had helped Suzie escape recapture and then collectively lied to the government about it.

“You work for those guys, right?” he “asks” as Kon takes a sip of his new hot chocolate, because while the best time to start this whole plan was months ago, the second-best time to start it is now. “Project Cadmus?”

"Yeah," Kon replies, looking a little surprised by the question. Tim reminds himself to con the team into brushing up on the superhero version of stranger danger, because Kon answered that question way too easily. "Well, just started to. I'm a field agent. How'd you know?”

"I've done some research on you since we first met," Tim says, which isn't even a lie; just some careful phrasing. "I really appreciated what you did for me. And to be honest, I think we'd get along."

"Oh yeah? Tell me all about it," Kon says as his posture shifts a little and he flashes him the kind of smirk he normally reserves for, well . . .

Huh, Tim thinks in vague bemusement.

Kon's flirting with him.

. . . huh.

Not actually the angle Tim was intending to take here, but . . . well, he's not above taking it. And anyway, Kon's just a flirt in general, so it's not like it means anything.

Admittedly Tim hasn't actually seen him flirt with a guy before, but presumably Kon's just feeling out an opportunity to experiment or not ready to be out to the team yet. Tim's not, so he'd hardly blame him for that. Tim's not even out to Steph.

And he's definitely, definitely not out to Bruce.

Well, ideally he'll be a supervillain before that becomes necessary, assuming his life goes to plan.

Robin was always going to be a temporary gig, after all.

"I don't know," he says, and lets the corners of his mouth curl up in amusement. "You just seem like my type of guy."

"Your type of guy?" Kon says, his smirk widening as he leans in towards Tim, who decides to pretend that particular bit of flirtatious implication was actually intentional. Tim is . . . not all that great at flirting, admittedly, but it's not like Kon has particularly high standards past “didn't explicitly tell me to fuck off”, so Tim figures he'll be able to get by for long enough to have this conversation.

Not much longer, but all the same. He has a plan to pitch, that's all that actually matters here.

“Yeah,” he says. “And I wanted to thank you for saving me, so . . .”

“You wanna thank me, Tim Drake?” Kon asks with a slower, wider smirk, leaning in a little more again, and Tim instantly turns bright red as he realizes how that actually sounded.

Yeah, okay, he is actually the worst at flirting. Fuck.

“Uh, yes!” he says quickly, very much needing to clarify that statement before his stupid fucking hormones try to talk him into maybe just . . . leaning into that particular miscommunication a little. Not the goal here. Definitely not. “I mean–being a field agent doesn't sound particularly lucrative? And I know being a superhero isn't.”

“Lucrative?” Kon blinks, expression turning puzzled. “I mean, I guess not. I don't need that much money or anything, though, I just live at Cadmus these days.”

“You live in a lab?” Tim says, letting himself sound as incredulously horrified as he felt the first time he heard that. “Why?”

“I dunno, saves me a commute,” Kon replies with a shrug. “Also, like, it's not like I have a credit score to get my own place with. Or a legal identity. Or, you know, money. Landlords tend to want those.”

“Hm,” Tim says. “Do you want one?”

“Huh?” Kon wrinkles his nose in confusion.

“Your own place,” Tim clarifies. “I really would like to thank you. I could help you get a place.”

“Uh, thanks? But I still couldn't afford rent, even if somebody cosigned for me or whatever,” Kon says, looking puzzled. “I really don't make that much.”

“No, I mean I'd pay your rent,” Tim explains, which is in fact an insane person thing to offer somebody, admittedly, but it's not like Kon has all that reliable a grasp of normal social mores. “Or just buy you a place outright and pay your property taxes. Whichever you'd prefer.”

Kon blinks. Tilts his head.

“So like, you're just a very extra dude, huh,” he says after a moment, his eyebrows slowly raising as he pushes his sunglasses up into his hair. “Like you're the guy who blows the budget on the friend group's Secret Santa out of the water every year.”

“Possibly,” Tim says, putting on a sheepish smile. Kon laughs and folds his arms on the table, looking amused.

“You wanna buy me an apartment?” he asks. “What, just for saving your life?”

“I really think you're undervaluing that particular achievement,” Tim says.

“I think you're overvaluing it,” Kon replies with another laugh. “No offense, but I didn't do anything but block one lousy bullet.”

“One lousy bullet is enough,” Tim says, and doesn't think of any bodies he's seen. Kon tilts his head again, then takes a sip of his hot chocolate.

“Okay, fair,” he allows. “But I'm bulletproof.”

“I'm not,” Tim says.

“You were as long as I was touching the same floor as you,” Kon replies with a shrug, and takes another sip. “It wasn't like I did anything hard.”

He hasn't actually said “no” to the apartment. Tim's pretty sure that's just because he thinks he's either ridiculous or just not being serious, but he's not above pressing the advantage anyway.

“You didn't have to do anything at all, though,” he says. "And buying you a place wouldn't be all that hard for me either. Besides, you deserve a little gratitude for your efforts, don't you think?”

"Sounds like supervillain talk, dude," Kon says, his mouth quirking in amusement around his next sip. Tim resolves to dial back on that at this point in his career. He's laying groundwork, yes, but subtlety is still the wiser course of action.

"You say that like you've never socialized with a supervillain before," he counters dryly.

"Well, usually ones who wear a bit less," Kon replies, lowering his mug to grin wickedly at him. Tim figures if a little more flirting might soften him up on this whole idea, well . . .

It's not the most altruistic thing he's ever done for a plan, admittedly, but if it works, it works.

"So you're telling me I should invest in a crop top before I try to take over the world and remake it in my own image?" he asks still more dryly as he raises an eyebrow at Kon with a little smirk, and Kon laughs and leans in a little closer again, giving him a not very subtle up-and-down with his eyes.

"Only if you're trying to recruit me for your evil plans, pretty boy," he says, grin turning sharp. Tim feels vaguely faint, and also wants to lick the bastard's stupid perfect teeth. Jesus. "So I dunno, what are your feelings on Daisy Dukes?"

"I'm going to be honest, I'm not actually that much of an exhibitionist so at this point we're just describing my ideal costume updates for you," Tim informs him.

"Oh yeah?" Kon asks with another laugh even as he straightens back up to visibly preen at the suggestion. Tim is all for that, personally. Both the preening and the theoretical updates, in fact. And, a little more weirdly, just the idea of having anything whatsoever to do with what Kon might ever decide to wear. Especially whatever he might decide to wear for his costume.

Yeah, that's probably a later thought, Tim decides. Like, a private-time kind of later thought. Specifically “behind locked doors in an empty house” private-time, actually.

"You're solar-powered, aren't you?" he says reasonably, because apparently he likes to suffer and also make himself low-key insane. "Showing a bit more skin can't hurt."

"I wonder if Superman would buy that excuse," Kon says musingly.

"Power Girl exists," Tim replies still more reasonably. "And Supergirl wears a miniskirt, last I checked."

"Valid," Kon says, putting on a mock-thoughtful expression and tapping the side of his jaw. "Maybe I'll put in some cutouts and go for a lower neckline, tell the big guy he's making the rest of us look like prudes. What do you think, bikini or high-cut bottoms?"

"I don't know the difference," Tim lies, desperately trying not to overheat and die at that question and every single accompanying mental image that his useless brain has so helpfully decided to supply. "You'll have to provide examples."

"Will I now," Kon says, grinning all over again and pointedly striking a very suggestive pose in his seat. Tim valiantly struggles not to melt. "What, pretty boy, you want a fashion show?"

"Well I did want to be a photographer when I was a kid," Tim says, although it was definitely never that kind of photography he had in mind. Kon laughs again and shifts in closer again, though, so it's worth it. Tim is mortified, but also undeniably into just . . . all of this, really, just everything about this conversation. Robin can't flirt with Superboy, but, well . . . Tim Drake still isn't Robin, now is he?

He's probably taking advantage of the situation a little, Tim can admit to himself, but it's still just . . . nice. He's wanted to flirt with Kon for way too long, at this point. Indulging in a little bit of it isn't the worst thing he could do.

And again, it's Kon, so it's not like it's serious or anything. The guy won't even remember this conversation tomorrow, much less anything about Tim Drake.

. . . admittedly that'd be counterproductive to Tim's long-term goals here, but still. He's willing to take his time on this. There's a plan. It has steps. Layers. Processes.

"I like you, man," Kon says with a wider grin, which is in absolutely no way whatsoever in the plan. "You're funny."

Tim stares blankly at him as it occurs to him, almost disbelievingly, that he might've . . . made a good impression on Kon? Somehow?

Well, that's weird.

"I'll never get a fashion show out of you if I'm not at least funny," he says on autopilot, as someone who's been well-taught both when and how to press an advantage. Kon, yet again, grins at him, and gives him another much brighter laugh than usual.

Actually, he kind of hasn't stopped grinning at him, has he.

Huh.

. . . huh.

Tim really did not plan for this. This is just . . . not at all what the plan was.

“Well, you definitely are funny,” Kon says, biting his lip around a warm little smile and ducking his head just enough to look at Tim from under his lashes, and Tim decides he can probably just amend the plan.

He's a Bat, isn't he? They know how to improvise when they have to.

#timkon #tim drake #kon el #conner kent #dc robin #superboy #long post #rinfic #wip: obligatory sugar baby kon

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swordsandarms · 9 months

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When I think of how Lyanna is seemingly (mis)understood in spite of contradicting clues in the story, I think of how it happens with Elizabeth Bennet (Pride and Prejudice) and a similar typecasting as the one dimensional "spunky, bold" kind of girl.

Elizabeth has her flaws, but that is not being a stubborn girl screeching about love in spite of her family's precarious financial future - hence her own, too. Elizabeth pragmatically turns away from her infatuation with Wickham before it turns into more after one warning from her aunt that they would both be in ruin, and she considers accepting an offer from Colonel Fitzwilliam whom she doesn't love, but they have a comfortable dynamic that she thinks of as enough. On the other hand, she also rejects the man who would inherit Longbourn, Mr Collins - a marriage that could have saved her family - and even her eventual love interest, Mr Darcy - awfully wealthy. Which gains her the cliche characterisation.

But Elizabeth's problem is she is wary of marrying a man she cannot even respect - not necessarily love. It has impacted her since childhood due to the unfit marriage in character and intellect between her own parents, and she can understand the need to marry for financial stability, as long as she can have a reasonable mutually positive dynamic with her partner, but to not even hold respect for someone she'd be tied to for life is the ultimate misery to dive into.

Likewise, Lyanna doesn't even corner her brother about not being madly in love with the man they chose for her. She challenges his character, calmly and rationally - her argument is very much that love cannot make up for unequal character. She also brings up Mya Stone not because she is a hypocrite against bastards, but because she has come prepared with facts for argument - which is exactly as what Ned remembers it, a true fact which corners him in his side of the argument. He doesn't challenge Robert's deficiencies. He's the "naive" one saying love/a woman will change him. He's the oldest but not the mature one - he's the silly romantic blinded by a man's charisma and charm for most of his life. (In Lyanna's eyes, he would also be a man who proclaimed to bring an innocent KOLT to the Mad King himself for the sake of glory - fact which must also sink his character).

Because Jane Austen isn't George Martin and in a different genre, Elizabeth Bennet gets to marry a man who is rich, AND handsome, AND the love of her life - all ONLY after he gains her higher regard in his character and virtues. (Darcy himself isn't some cliche of a man changed by love as naive Ned would have life work. He has the spine to admit Elizabeth is right, and he initially wants to let her know that upon re-meeting her, and that all that is not what he thinks a man should be - what he wants to be - accountability, something so crucial, yet something that Robert Baratheon would only - and that barely - prove only on his death bed).

But Lyanna's unknown POV past Harrenhal completely erases the clues of Robert's lowly character being unveiled to her in person. She is portrayed as stuck in the "naive"/"hypocritical" role of the girl who once before Harrenhal has told her brother she for the time being had bad feelings about this man for a start (those having turned out to be good instincts long term, and at the least informed short term, mind you).

KOLT is not about Robert, and not even about Rhaegar, though I would say his actions bear more interest fandom wide. But it is about Lyanna. And while within that perspective it might also be about what Rhaegar's actions mean to HER POV, the fact that Robert is also there, that he would have at this point in time her attention as the man chosen for her, the few mentions of what she must be seeing while to the reader they're ignored or dismissed - simply because we're narratively PAST that, and the next thing we know of Lyanna is that she's PAST HIM.

But Robert is there, and Lyanna is thrown in his company. Howland doesn't care - Lyanna is the hero in this defining episode of his life. HE's just the Storm Lord who is getting drunk and shouting about giving the KOLT to the mad King himself. But somewhere Lyanna is watching. The debauched lifestyle. The man who puts his own pride and potential for glory ahead of an innocent's wellbeing. The man who would soon be "just rolling in for a fight" in a war that defined a continent because life to him is a party and a game.

But women cannot be individuals with a dignity of their own. If they have any consciousness they better be fighting the patriarchy in the trenches or they are spunky selfish girls wanting shallow things instead of sacrificing for the family's wealth and status. There's no in between.

#asoiaf #lyanna stark #elizabeth bennet #rhaegar targaryen #anti robert baratheon

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lovemari · 8 months

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IMPORTANT: Hello! My old account, Lovemari, got deleted. Therefore, I had to make a new one. I'm honestly pretty upset about this so I'll take some time to recover! Thankfully, all my posts are saved as I write them in google docs before posting. Please like and reblog so I can reach my old followers and potentially new ones!

Family - Scaramouche x Reader

Reminder: I'm not an experienced writer so construction criticism is always welcome! Also, I write for fun. I just wanted to share my work around the world!

Pairing: Scaramouche x Reader

Synopsis: Scaramouche realizes that you're not in the best life, so he makes it better.

Notes: I want to warn you that you have an abusive father in this relationship. words such as “slutty” are used. though, it does have a cute ending!! Also, this isn't stepcest!! I want to point that out. Ei doesn't adopt you! She just treats you like your own! Please don't take it the wrong way.

Scaramouche heard about you from his friends, though he never cared to listen. He didn't pay attention to those who never gained his interest.

That was until today. Scaramouche was your partner for the upcoming history project. He let out a quiet groan as he walked to your desk.

“Listen.” he ordered, “this is a huge part of our grade. Don't mess up.” You took a step back, intimidated by his demand. with a slow, uneasy nod, you sat back to your desk.

Scaramouche looked down with annoyance, “let's go to your house after school.” You looked at him, about to protest but scaramouche cut you off, “we're doing it, whether you like it or not. got it?”

You didn't say anything, though you wanted to. you slumped into your seat, your hands unable to stay still. You were nervous.

After school, you allowed scaramouche to follow you home. It was against your will but you knew Scaramouche's personality quite well.

You quietly opened the door, hoping not to disturb. Scaramouche snickered, “are you always like this?” he judged, clearly getting under your skin. His voice stopped when he looked up to see a tall man, “you slutty child.” He snapped, looking furious. Scaramouche realized that this man was talking about [name]. The man slapped them, “you thought you could be quiet, huh? thought you could sneak in a boy for god knows why?!” he assumed, clearly thinking of the worst.

Scaramouche decided to step in, “we're here for a project, sir.” he explained, trying to keep a modest attitude to the man. The man spit at [name] before walking away.

Scaramouche sighed in relief before helping you up, “is he your father?” he questioned, answered by a nod from you. Scaramouche felt disgusted but hid it, he didn't want to show any vulnerability.

Scaramouche went upstairs, with [name] slowly following behind. He went into your room and locked the door. [Name’s] room was quite babyish. He figured that you probably didn't receive a lot of things.

Scaramouche felt apologetic, “sorry.” he sympathized. It wasn't a lot but [name] already started crying. They hugged scaramouche.

“There, there.” Scaramouche comforted, patting your back. He gave you a light head pat, showing vulnerability and care. Even though he didn't want to, he felt like you needed it.

A few weeks passed by and scaramouche has been taking you to your house every single day. He explained that you should stay away from your father. Although it sounded wrong, it was clearly the right choice.

You and scaramouche didn't really do much. Scaramouche often gave you items to draw with. He thought of it as some sort of therapy for you. He often put some ideas on the table and encouraged you to recreate it.

You felt like this was your second home. Scaramouche's mother, Ei, was extremely sweet and caring, despite her fearful and intimidating figure and occupation.

Ei felt like you were another child, going as far as preparing a bedroom for you and smothering you with love.

As for your father, he didn't care. He told ei to “take the child.” and that “he didn't want it.” Ei did exactly that.

Even though you weren't exactly in the family, you felt loved by the family. You had some feelings for scaramouche, though you never admired them. not now, at least.

You knew scaramouche felt the same way. He often kissed your head, whenever you were drawing. You loved it.

You were basically living with your boyfriend's family. A family who took care of you and treated you as their own and most importantly, a boyfriend who loved you.

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mello-bee · 7 months

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Reasons why YOU should be suspicious of O'Connor

(contains spoilers to the princess event and slight Clarence's white day event) (it's also written from the prespective of an EN only player)

I believe O'Connor is in cahoots with Cael somehow and have alot of delusional reaching - that I and @smudgedvolt come up with in our secret lbc basement - to back me up

for one, he's the art TA for the school, and while Cael isn't the only art professor in the school, he was never specified to be anyone else's assistant, for all we know he may have been handpicked by Cael himself (i told you this had alot of delusional reaching)

he also just straight up didnt graduate, which is more of an indicator that Cael may have pulled some strings to get him to work in ST. Shelter

secondly, he's the only NPC that appears everywhere at all times on the map

he's the only NPC that does this as IL are the only ones that change location once per day, and NPCS like gerald and william are usually bound to where they are everyday

so how come he's the only one who can change location multiple times per day? and specifically going where YOU are?

what if he's specifically watching you?

he also gives MC alot of assignments,

Do you think he's maybe trying to keep her busy?

In his introduction, MC describes him as something that doesn't belong

it's not like its the first time she's seen tourists or older people at ST. Shelters?

later we learn that he was the council president, before he suddenly disappeared and came back unannounced

the only other people described by Clarence to have disappeared are MC and Cael and you obviously know what's up with them (this actually makes Clarence's relationship with MC a bit sadder bc this means he's used to people close to him like O'Connor suddenly disappearing without an explaination and this could be why he documented everything in his notebook)

and even if he didn't mean "fled" as in "disappeared", fled is still a strange choice of words, was he running away from something? someone?

he also seemed to know that she's missing points; he explains that, of course he knows as he was an art student as well, but would he be able to guess that she's behind all the other art students bc she missed a few activities?

unless he knew of her travelling to godheim at he start of the year

next is the list he made during princess event, i haven't played princess event myself though so forgive me if any of this is explained at some point but

he just??? made a list of all the paragons?? + william and two other guys??? lars ISN'T EVEN A STUDENT why on earth would he put him there??

after Heinrich's death, Clarence visited the lab to find it empty

Clarence ruled out Cael because he also disappeared, although Cael has freaky time travelling powers but we cant rule out the possibility of someone else helping him

O'Connor is the only NPC with a card higher than R

i can't be the only one who finds it weird that Some Weird Art Guy™ just has an SR while lore important NPCS like Amelia and Naledi's counterparts are stuck as Rs and Ns?

I was gonna talk about this scene and the "mysterious seller"

but it all got thrown out of the window, it turns out Cael was behind the account :(

although I can technically use this along with other points to point out how william is even MORE suspicious than O'Connor but thats a post for another day

#crack theory #except I actually believe it #lbchronicles #lbc #lovebrush #lovebrush chronicles #lbc o'connor #lovebrush O'Connor #for all time otome #for all time #O'Connor

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piracytheorist · 11 months

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Episode 31 reactions!

Okay, first off, mind. blown. There's some VERY good action in this one!

Yor's coworkers are at the "Well, we're still better off!" jealousy stage. It's a small thing but something I can definitely see people like them do. Sharon seems to be the most passive-aggressive one, so it was a bit revealing that she was the first one to go like "Hey I got beer and sausage, I'm not jealous at all!" Our truest selves come out in the hardest times...

A very beautiful shot of the ship!

By the way, if Yor's coworkers knew what she was going through, they'd definitely stop being jealous.

Yor appears a little too nervous, if you ask me. Granted, we only saw her once before working, and when she was imagining what she'd tell Anya she sounded quite secure in her abilities. But now that she's been living in a family, her way of work has indeed changed, if anything else because she's worried they may find out the truth about her.

At first I thought McMahon had kicked her in the shin, but upon rewatching I realized he kicked the leg of the chair. I'm sure if it were the Shopkeeper he'd probably kick her leg, if not stomp down on her foot just to get her to focus.

Gram was sneezing again? Should I pay attention to this or is it just a baby being a baby?

Yor is smart to try and think how the enemy would think in order to be prepared for their plan, but she doesn't take into account the fact that some of the assassins are actual psychopaths who don't care about taking innocent people's lives in their effort to do their job. That's what being too kind of an assassin will do to you XD

And it's driven to the point even more with Yor being cute like that - and probably remembering the times she played with Yuri when he was little - and Olka saying she doesn't look like a criminal. She really doesn't. Sweetest assassin ever <3

The "mmm" Yor made at the end was the exact same "mmm" Anya made while stuffing up her face with food XD

Loid is not impressed, and this is only the beginning.

It's so fun having the actual, physical copy of the manga in front of me as I watch the episode! I notice here that when Anya talked about Yor missing, she also told Loid "You miss dinner all the time", but the anime omitted that. STOP DENYING US THINGS!

Anyway, Anya calls him out for catching feelings, and Loid is quick to drop his voice a couple octaves to show how secure he is.

I AM NOT LONELY I AM NOT.

Sure buddy, sure.

The office guys are on the opposite side of relaxing and actually enjoying themselves on this trip, going out and drinking a little too much, while the "Greys", Yor and McMahon are walking on eggshells.

The anime team obviously had enough time available for this chapter, as they have a couple of added lines from the office guys, so I doubt they omitted Anya's line about Loid missing dinner due to time issues. I wonder what might be the reason - it's not like they're trying to make us think he doesn't miss dinner? We know the guy's schedule is tight as a drum.

Anyway. Assassin-ing time and holy shit.

I'm pretty sure I gasped at this.

And the rest of the scene, of course!

Obligatory mention that it's been proven time and again that torture is not an effective means of interrogation. People can and do lie while being tortured for information, so the things they say may or may not be accurate. Torture may make them speak, but whether they speak the truth or not is another issue, unrelated to torture itself. So while there can be various goals of torturing someone (illegitimate, of course, like punishment, making an example out of a "traitor", or in very few real-life cases, gratification), obtaining information has proven to not be a feasible one. I understand the point of the scene was to show McMahon's abilities and to establish that there are multiple people on board after Olka, I just needed to say that.

I've been certain they'd go the "dumping bodies into the ocean" route. A cruise is a great setting for that!

The knock on the door was intense! Especially since it's put right after the scene of McMahon and Furseal walking back to the room, but just those few seconds of slowed down tension make you think "Oh no. It's not them. It's them".

I expected the "Oh, it's just room service!" and of course, I expected the "I didn't order any" reply.

Great animation of the attack and Yor protecting Olka and Gram though I'm begging the animators to look a bit into trigger discipline, at this point whenever I see a gun my eyes go immediately on the trigger and I go D: whenever there's a finger on it that shouldn't be

But oh, McMahon is good, and resourceful!

The assassin points his gun at them, Furseal freaks out while McMahon marches on.

We also finally see one (1) eye under the reflection of his glasses. I get that the reflection makes it easier in animation and such, but still I appreciate this detail, especially in such a moment.

And more action! Yor being a badass and at the same time caring for the baby!

"I can excuse murder in self-defense but I draw the line at scaring a baby"

THE GUY WAS STILL WIGGLING. WHILE HE HAD A DAGGER THROUGH HIS SKULL.

(probably last uncontrollable movements from his dying nervous system but still. it was fucking chilling and I love it)

Also, I can understand Yor being strong enough to break the door. But I think it takes a different kind of strength to throw an object, even a sharp one, and make the object break through the door, a human skull, and then latch onto a wall. Absolute unit.

Seeing the body was freaky, too! If I'm correct, I think this is the very first time we see a person being murdered on screen in the story.

Ah no wait we do see a guy in the second episode getting a dagger to the back and falling down. But it was much more palatable than seeing a dagger go through someone's skull and practically nailing him to the wall.

I'm gonna think about this for a long time, lmao. It was brutal!

I just noticed this on my rewatch! McMahon is wearing a ring in the shape and place of a wedding ring! He then goes on to tell the ship's services that the "mister and missus had a fight" though in the manga he says "me and my wife" so is his cover that he's on board with his wife?

And here's the same thing that shows Yor's side. She sees assassins as people doing their job and "cleaning out trash" especially in her case, not people who do this job just because they have no issue killing.

I mean, I don't want turtleneck guy to defeat Yor, but he's got my respect for now.

He also says there are other members from the gangster family on board? Just how many people did manage to get on this ship XD

The eavesdropping guy tells turtleneck guy that he sells his information equally and practically tells him good luck getting ahead, so now I'm thinking, there's another eavesdropping guy, or is he selling all his intel to other assassins that weren't there in that scene?

Also, good luck getting them to work together without getting greedy and/or paranoid, lol

Furseal was actually blushing while wearing the mask XD and the plague doctor mask on the baby!

The poison guy thinks he's some dude. He has no idea who he's dealing with.

This arc will be perfect for creepy shots of Yor, won't it XD

Furseal asks for his button back and dude! Priorities much? This button saved all your lives XD

Blonde mask guy tries to go for Olka right in the middle of the crowd like wtf and the moment Yor grabbed his hands I went like "BREAK THEM. BREAK HIS FINGERS." And then she did <3 We stan <3

That's it. That's their dynamic in one shot.

While Anya is having an overdramatic tantrum, we see how even when Twilight is trying to not be on the lookout - he even says he just has to stay away from suspicious people - his skills are so fine that they kinda work subconsciously. He spots the listening devices (I mean, there are a ton of them) and notices all the suspicious people even if he doesn't make a conscious list of all of them.

Then Twilight has a fucking breakdown over one (1) silly keychain. I mean it is a skeleton keychain so his mind immediately went "IT'S EITHER THAT OR MY OWN DEATH" is anyone even surprised

Anya is still learning how easily Twilight overreacts. And like the scene with the sandbox in the hospital, she realizes she caused him a little too much anxiety and tries to take some burden off.

This entire tension is going on and Twilight is still stuck on whether he should buy a stupid keychain. This man is incapable of relaxing, you tell him to relax and he goes like "Okay spy mode on standby, parent with anxiety mode is on".

I love how this reads a bit like "Papa considers hating frogs as much of a dealbreaker as being an assassin!"

It's so weird - though fitting - to think that Anya believes she can keep this up indefinitely. She has no idea how easily they could discover each other's identities and believes she can stop that from eventually happening. It makes sense for her age, though.

It's also a bit sad, how quick she is to think that she would be abandoned if they found out about each other. It's probably what makes her go "I have to keep this up as long as possible". Her young mind can't comprehend an alternative.

And oop! Taking part of the next chapter too, I see!

I might have lost it during these shots.

"You go around having battles" is definitely something Anya would come up with. It's why she's so hard to write and why Endo should receive an applause for how accurate to her age and experience he writes her.

Next, Twilight's biggest foe; the unreadable expression of a five six year old who is trying to take responsibility for her actions.

I love how when Twilight is facing actual danger and difficult missions he's all cool and collected. Meeting Desmond? Piece of cake. Taking down entire groups of people aiming guns at him? No problem. Anya acting unpredictable? THE WORLD IS ENDING.

However funny the scene is, it slowly drifts into a sadder territory. Twilight actually worries over Anya's mental state, and though he has no idea Anya is having the time of her life, there must be a part of his understanding of her trauma that is true. Now why he undermines completely his own trauma... It's projecting, isn't it?

Anyway, he concludes that the Handler knew from the beginning that Anya needs some vacation in order to recover from her trauma, and for some reason, instead of going like "Yo give her a break" she conjured up this entire idea for a vacation... But in reality, the Handler was only saying that in order to justify his time off in paper.

Like, the man can be so off sometimes that I want to shake him and then hug him because god I cannot imagine going your entire life like this and not even comprehending the idea of actual time off.

Anya: Have fun! Twilight: Cannot compute!

Like yeah it's funny but how am I supposed to not feel just a little bit sad with how he's completely unfamiliar with the concept of relaxing and having fun 😭😭

This is going to be a disaster XD

Anya prepares to run for it, realizes he can change and wear everything within seconds, and freezes... But then Overanalyzing TwilightTM takes control and he starts spending long minutes in front of the mirror freaking out about how his weird ensemble will manage to fix Anya's mood.

This truly is his most difficult mission. Anya is the perfect age to teach him about how sometimes he cannot control how people will react to his manipulations... and then there's the mind-reading, too.

Anyway. I love how Anya goes like "That's not how I expected to win some time but it works" and just steps back into the corridor XD

OH MY GOD

I love me a good fight choreography! Here Yor pushed Olka down from the shoulders, and at the same time pushed Furseal's knees to the front so they'd bend and he'd go down just enough to miss the sickle. Awesome!

The guy just starts a fight right in the middle of the crowd. And Yor has no choice but to stop him, Anya has to hide and also keep Loid from coming out of the store...

That IS a very interesting cliffhanger! I nearly screamed when it ended there, lol. It even ends in the middle of the page! I had to cover it with my hand to avoid spoilers XD The things I go through in this crazy experience XD

Overall, awesome episode! Though I felt that the Twilight panicking scene dragged on a bit. I don't know why. Maybe it's just that I'm an angst ho and I wanted a bit more angsty vibes from that scene. It's not bad, but maybe I still haven't realized just how much on comedy the show belongs in. It has a peculiar but for some reason very efficient balance on everything.

#Spy x Family #sxf reaction

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creepedverse · 12 days

Note

We need talbin lore dump so fuckin badd

I GOTCHUUUU. Heres the entire TalBin Lore. INSANELY LONG POST WARNING LMAOOO. Also for future reference, anything Talbin related that isnt directly relevant to Creepedverse/Farnbury plot shit should be asked on my main account @necroromantics so we dont flood the Creepedverse account with irrelevant stuff

-They met in high school (they were 16yrs old), in a shitty small town in North Dakota. They first encountered each other in the office in the first week of school; Tobin was in trouble for talking back to a teacher, and Tali was there for a course change. The two stubborn piece of shit trashy kids just sat there glaring at each other cuz neither of them knew how to back down LMAO

-Then they found out they shared an English class. Last period. They sat right next to each other.

-I dont know if yall know this, but Tobin was practically illiterate back in high school, due to him being in and out of school his entire life he was very behind on education. He was horrible at even basic math, spelling, reading. So he struggled a LOT in his English class to the point he dropped out again, only to go back a month later after his grandma pushed him, and told him to find a tutor

-He noticed early on that despite being countrygirl trailer trash, loud-mouthed and rude, Tali was pretty well-read. She kept to herself a lot, didnt really have any friends or got on with anyone, so it was mostly the grades she got back that made Tobin decide she was gonna be his tutor. Plus, he already had an interest in the challenge of befriending her anyways

-It took him a fuck ton of harassment and being an all around annoying nuisance in order to finally get Tali to cave and agree to tutor him. At her place after school every Wednesday, he has to pay up in cigarettes and $20 first. This arrangement of theirs was how they got to know each other properly in the first place

-At first it was Tali and Tobin sitting across this old wooden dining room table of hers, her father worked on the road so he was never home. She started off just getting frustrated with Tobins arguing and stupidity, theyd sorta just bicker and fight with each other over him not focusing, or listening, or understanding. He didn't know half the shit that was being asked of him, and he didn't know how to take it seriously

-It was when he talked back to her asking how the fuck he doesn't know what "coincidence" meant, he told her "Fuck I dunno, I was barely in school", and it finally clicked for Tali that he wasnt stupid, he really wasn't, he just had a bad start.

-So she went to the library and picked out low reading level books, and next Wednesday, she had him pick one out, and they read together. After that, Tali would start to really listen to the way that boy talked about things, like taking apart bikes and putting them back together, or the logistics of buying/weighing/flipping weed for profit, street smarts, people smarts

-And they started arguing less, and laughing together more. Theyd talk to each other in the hallways, and even had each others numbers. They became friends, though neither of them would admit it.

-Soon, Tobin would start coming over on days other than Wednesday, just for a place to crash. He never really wanted to be home, and Tali never really asked him why. She didn't mind having him over, in all honesty she started to enjoy it, and Tobin would always consider her place a safe space of sorts, someone he could rely on, somewhere to get away from shit.

-Eventually, he started spending the night there too whenever he got kicked out, or ran away. Tali would always let him in. Eventually, she trusted him enough to sleep in her bed, after he got her home after a party they drank too much at. Now for context, in highschool, Tali had a false reputation of being an absolute whore. Like rumours from girls who hated her, or guys she'd hurt the ego of, saying she'd sleep around, or that she was easy, or that she'd get drunk and sleep with a bunch of guys. Easy humiliation, and neither Tali nor Tobin listened to the rumours. So knowing that this boy, who she almost considered her best friend, would go out of his way to make sure she got home safe, the same way she'd make sure he'd get away from his home safe. She really did start to trust him, and he never broke it, and he trusted her too

-Tobin liked Tali a lot, sure, but he was never interested in anything more. Partially because he knew if he caught feelings for a girl who threatened him if he ever caught feelings, itd be over. He was perfectly fine keeping shit strictly platonic, even when they layed together, or when they started to hold hands.

-Even when she asked him if he's ever kissed someone before, and he said no, and she asked him if he wanted to. And he said no.... LMAO. He thought it was a test or something. He was sitting on her bed like FUUUUUCKFUCCK but its ok Tobin grew a pair and kissed her and they still kept things... Platonic... But... Theyd very much treat each other like a couple yknow. But they were both waaayy too prideful to admit it was anything beyond just being close friends

-But eventually Tobin would start coming to her place drunk, high, or both, more often than not. He'd show up every Wednesday like always, but he'd end up falling asleep at the table, or be so fucked up with booze and pills that he was practically unresponsive anyways. For awhile, Tali didn't care to, or want to, be on his ass about it. She let him sleep, she let him come to her whenever he needed

-It became a problem when they started really, genuinely fighting. They would have petty arguments or banter or piss each other off all the time, but they never actually fought in ways that hurt that much. Tali would say things that hurt his ego, and Tobin would try to tear her down. Theyd start yelling at each other, insulting each other. They were fucked up kids who lived fucked up lives going through fucked up things. And all they really knew was how to hurt each other, and then pretend like nothing happened cuz they couldnt lose each other no matter how hard they tried

-Tali eventually banned Tobin from coming around her when he was fucked up, and he listened. He came around a lot less, even missing Wednesday tutor nights sometimes, but he never fully left yknow. On the days he'd show up at school, he'd be trying to make up to Tali for pissing her off last night, or bugging her to get her to laugh at one of his shitty jokes. And she'd let him in every time. In all honesty, she couldn't ever really truly hate him

-It was Tobin who realized he caught feelings first, they were sitting on her bed and she laughed and water came out of her nose, and she laughed harder, and Tobin couldnt even laugh too cuz he was just sitting there feeling that heavy fondness in his chest, he couldnt do anything but stare at her and smile at how beautiful she was. And the moment the word "love" came into his head he was immediately like OH FUCK. It was something he immediately shoved alllll the fucking way down. He couldnt imagine her ever actually liking him back, or agreeing to be his. Tali was always very very vocal about her independence, how she would never be anyones but hers, how she hated guys, she hated the idea of romance, she hated cliches. And he was fine with that, he was fine with just being her best friend.

-Tali ended up realizing she had feelings for him after the most torturous month or so of him pulling away from her, and getting heavy into drugs/drinking again. He ended up getting into a fight with his dad, and he was fucked up on pills again, but he stumbled to her place at night, he didnt know where else to go. Despite her rules, she let him in. And he didnt fight, or argue, she just let him wash up, and climb into bed with her. Tali realized that she really would do anything for him, and just how much she cared for him. She wanted him to always choose to come to her, she wanted to listen to him ramble, and she liked him sober more than anything

-It was Tobin who said "I love you" first. And Tali slapped the shit out of him LMAOOO Cuz they were having a really bad fight and he said it sorta as a last ditch effort and she was like Do NOT fuckin' say that to me!!!! And he was like FUCK WHATEVER And then he kept going. And Tali realized like Oh shit he actually loves me hes not just fucking with me Lmao. Yada yada they hugged and made up

-They started dating about a year after they met, and it was literally a result of Tobin harassing her into saying yes. He was so fucking annoying about it Tali was just like FUCK FINE! WHATEVER! And their first date was sparring. They just met up. And beat the fuck outta each other. Cuz Tobin knew she hated cliches and loved MMA so fuck it why not

-Then about half a year after they started dating, Tali called Tobin to tell him she accidentally killed her brother. So Tobin did the logical thing. And blew his dads brains out with a shotgun. And they took Tali's dads truck and ditched town. They were 17 at this point, almost 18.

-They ended up in Louisiana after this, crashing in motels and shelters or really wherever. Literally all they had left was each other, and Tobin made a promise he'd never leave Tali. It was them against the world. They got promise rings around this period too, Tobin has the sun, Tali has the moon. Tali also got her snakebite piercings here too

-Eventually Tobin got enough cash selling drugs, and eventually guns/things he stole/etc, and Tali would job hop trying to make whatever she could to get by. They had to stay on the downlow as much as possible though. But they got a cheap, sketchy, small apartment together and lived in the city for awhile. This is when they went from being dumb kids with stupid issues, to adults with really heavy shit on their plates

-But it was always them together. They'd have really fucking brutal fights, even worse than in high school. Theyd scream so loud at each other, Tali would storm out, Tobin would break shit, Tali would throw plates at him. They got to a point where it was almost always fighting, breaking up, making up, tearing each other down, hurting each other. Tobin got really involved with the drug/crime scene in the city, befriending this other junkie named Skinner. They were real close for awhile, and Skinner practically taught Tobin all the ropes of arms and narcotics dealing. Tobin got into serious shit, and was making serious money

-And it put a serious strain on his relationship with Tali, especially when he started to get more and more afraid of committing to her. And so they broke up, and Tali kicked Tobin out, and he stayed with Skinner, and it just wasnt them against the world anymore. And my god did it hurt

-They completely cut contact, this time they were both sure they finally were done for good. Tobin wouldnt be sober for even a day, always drinking or getting high, fucking around with some girl he knew cuz they both wanted a rebound, but never being able to take it seriously or really do anything cuz god he just missed Tali so much, and he learned so quickly that nobody compares

-Tali spent her time waitressing at a small diner she was pretty sure was a laundering scheme but didnt give a fuck to think about it. She didnt talk to anyone, she just held her breath every day trying not to grieve. And she'd try not to break into tears at night when she realized her boy wouldnt come home and crawl into bed with her. She missed him so much, every day, for that month and a bit.

-And then Tobin found himself in some sketchy apartment, so fucked up on downers he couldn't even think, and he didnt even realize that Skinner had overdosed and died right there by him. He didnt call 911 in time, and when the paramedics arrived, he called the one person he knew he could rely on. Tobin was even too fucked up to realize what he had done, until he saw Tali pull up to the curb he was sitting on, and get out of the car, and sat next to him

-The ride back to their apartment was quiet. Everything for Tobin was slow, buzzing, and silent. And Tali was just happy he was safe. She got him into the house, and he didnt say a word as he laid down with her in bed, and she kissed the top of his head, and he quietly muttered that he loved her, and he missed her, and he needed her. And she whispered that she loved and missed him too, and they fell asleep.

-She let him sleep in that morning and when he woke up he didnt tell her what happened, and she didnt ask. He just hugged her, and she hugged him back. And from that point on they got back together and Tobin cut back on his drug use, and they agreed to ditch the city and start fresh somewhere else

-During that transition period from Louisiana and to Farnbury, about a month or so, Tobin and Tali were very dedicated to making it work between them. They knew just how fucking badly it hurt when they left, they knew how good it felt to be back together, they knew that nobody else compared, that it was always just going to be them. They were best friends, partners in crime, it was them against the world. Theyd be patient with each other, they'd communicate, theyd love each other without any restraint. Tobin would work so hard to make sure his girl knew she was loved, to make sure she knew he'd always come home to her when he went out. And Tali would always defend him, have his back, be there when the world would turn its back on him.

-They werent those dumb reckless kids that were best friends in highschool anymore, but they still had each other. And they would for the rest of their lives. Happily ever after fr.

#creepedverse #crv #creepypasta au #creepypasta oc #answered asks #crv tobin #crv asks #crv tali #crv talbin #tobin lawsen #tali marks #talbin #tali x tobin #tobin x tali

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hearts401 · 1 year

Note

"do NOT ask me about ggy or patient 46 because i WILL begin ranting"

You see, I am incapable of ever listening to anyone, ever, so I must ask about GGY and patient 46

I have absolutely no knowledge of modern FNaF lore; I have not read any of the books (something I plan to fix whenever my bank account stops bleeding) so you're gonna have to do some heavy lifting here and tell me all about it

Ooh boy rubs my hands together

okay so im gonna start with ggy because i love Tony and Ellis. (i dont have the book in front of me tho so this isnt gonna be 100% every detail)

GGY is about a kid named Tony Becker who has an assignment in his 6th grade english class. He has to write a fictional mystery with side plots that tie into the main plot. He chooses to do this with his two friends. They use pen names whenever they do their english projects together (sobs and wails and cries into my hands) and Tony picked Tarbell, and his friends were Boots and Dr. Rabbit (or Rab for short).

Tony wants to start working on their project, but Boots and Rab want to go to the fazcade. Tony gives in when rab backs up boots (tony sees boots as immature and worries about outgrowing him and hanging out more with rab) tony wanders around the fazcade trying to find inspo, and then notices someone named GGY with top scores on some of the games. when he asks other people about it, they tell him the scores are seemingly impossible, but when he asks a staff member, he's told they haven't been hacked.

At some point he makes an online blog to ask about it and a girl he'd talked to in the fazcade asks him to meet her. she tells him that she thinks this is more than just high scores, and that he should stay out of it.

Oh also freddy keeps watching tony and at some point begins following him.

Tony finds out that GGY has a hacked party pass (or it was like a fun pass or smth) that gives them access to much more than it should, working almost like a security card.

Tony then finds out one of the school counselors has gone missing, and he sneaks into the librarian's office to learn more about it. he finds out two other counselors have also gone missing, all of them having gone to the pizzaplex before disappearing.

tony writes his paper and gives it to Rab and Boots to look over, and when they come back the next day, they've changed it into a fantasy story. And GGY is labled as the wizard's favorite apprentice, rather than someone getting high scores on arcade games.

tony is upset with rab and boots and begins calling htem by their actual names.

Rab is Greg, Boots is Ellis.

tony is also in trouble for sneaking into the librarian's office and using her laptop, so he has detention shelving books.

Greg come and offers to take him to the pizzaplex when he's done, and it's kind of implied he killed him there.

again i have bad memory and i dont have the book in front of my so anyone can feel free to correct anythign i got wrong or missed

now onto patient 46 who's from the therapy tapes in sb.

this'll be undeniably easier because i can just listen to the tapes. patient 46 is also not confirmed to be gregory, its just a theory, so im just gonna call them 46.

its important to note that 46 does not speak.

everything here is things implied to have been nonverbally communicated to the therapist.

Tape 2:

It starts with the therapist talking about how the day is nice, but 46 doesnt like the light, so the therapist draws the blinds. she then comments on how 46 is not talking to her today, and says that she gets reviews from patients, and when 46 doesn't let her help them, she gets bad reviews. she tells 46 she could get in trouble and get put in timeout, which 46 finds funny.

Tape 4:

New therapist is here, she asks if 46 is going to talk to her, and they dont reply. she asks whats wrong, and they gesture to the flowers. the therapist comments on them being particularly fragrant and moves them. The therapist then comments on 46 staring at something, and says they're "amazingly alert." she says shed like to have 46 tell her about themself, but 46 does not. the therapist instead chooses to look through their notes. she also comments on the chair not fitting 46, but its not specified if its too big or too small. she then asks if 46 is bothered by a new therapist, but 46 doesnt seem surprised or confused at all. the therapist says shes surprised by whats in 46's notes. she says they have a "rebellious side" and a knack for computers, and explains the word phenom to them. the tape ends with her asking if 46 considers themself a hacker

tape 6:

new therapise again! she tells 46 shes already read their files and knows what theyve worked on. 46 asks for a candy, and she gives one to them, taking one for herself as well. she says she wants to start with 46's parents, and claims it was tragic but she doesnt think 46 has processed it emotionally. she says they wrote it like they had read it off of a book. (her exact words are they wrote an objective rather than a subjective narrative, but 46 didnt know what that meant.) she says 46 spends a lot of time alone and is good at self-dialogue, which she explains is "asking urself questions and getting answers" she tells them to try asking themself how they feel about what happened to them. she tells them to let themself be upset about it so they can let it go.

tape 8:

same therapist as 6! she asks 46 if theyve thought about what they talked about. 46 had told them their past had made them sad and scared. the therapist asks if they had written down exactly what made them feel that way. she then says she works with many people who respond to tragedy differently. she asks 46 if their fantasies would be different had this tragedy not happened to them.

Tape 13:

new therapist again! she says when shes getting to know a client, she likes to find out abt their hobbies. when she doesnt get a reply, she asks if they like sports. 46 tells her they like to watch sports, but not play them. and that they like to stay inside. the therapist then reluctantly tells 46 that their previous therapists have gone missing. except one who was found dead, and they said her body looked to be mangled by machinery. the therapist also comments that 46 doesn't look concerned about it. she jokes about watching her back, which 46 finds funny.

Tape 14:

same therapist as 13. she asks if 46 knows about the pizzaplex, and says the technicians who work there know them. theyve seen what they think is 46 on the security cameras. they say 46 was accused of hacking their systems. the therapist says that the hacks are causing tons of problems, but that there's no solid proof it was 46, and 46 finds it funny that the techs are having issues. she says she finds it weird that 46 would spend time in such a busy, crowded place despite their loner attitude. she asks if its the electronics that 46 likes. she also says theyve designed programs that talk to them and repeat phrases. she says it asks them questions and prompts for responses, like their own little therapist. she said at first she had thought they were talking to themself, but it seems more like they were talking to someone else. she asks who it was.

Tape 15:

same therapist as 13+14. she starts with asking if 46 wants to do an ink blot test. she shows them an image, and 46 asks to hold it. 46 says it reminds them of a mask. the therapist asks if 46 likes the idea of being disguised, and how they make you invisible. she says being invisible lets you get away with anything, and asks 46 if they like that idea. she then moves on to something else, telling 46 that it seems theyve been talking to someone else. she says the techs think that its someone trying to lure 46 away, or manipulate them. the therapist moves to where she can see 46's eyes, and says she got something different from the communications. she accuses 46 of manipulating someone, rather than being manipulated. she says they were recorded on the security cameras with someone else. she says that it looks like the person theyre with has rabbit ears, which 46 finds amusing.

Tape 16:

Same therapist as 13+14+15. she says shes gotten another message from the pizzaplex that says that theres a glitch in the system that makes the animatronics more eerie than entertaining. she says the glitch spread system-wide and infected all the machines. she also says it was traced back to 46. she says the glitch broadcasted a dangerous message. she also says that when the techs were trying to fix it, the source shifted. she says that the glitch changed from a glitch and became a set of sub-routines that were made to do exactly what the glitch was doing. (which basically means it stopped just being a glitch and became part of the system?? i think?? idk shit abt computers bruh) when 46 does not reply, she presses, saying she is on their side and wont tell anyone what is told to her during the session and that the techs have no proof it was 46, so theyre not in trouble. when 46 doesnt reply still, she brings up their past. 46 refuses to look at her, but she continues. she says it doesnt matter if they look at the floor, because nothing they told her about their parents was true. she says they had great parents, and a great childhood. she asks 46 why they lied, and tells them to look at her. she then says she understands why 46 would be upset about the confrontation, and says they can come back to this another day. the last line she says is "you're shaking your head like that's not going to happen."

UHM YEAH IM NORMAL ABOUT THEM LOL.

i have a lot of thoughts on both of these parts and i personally believe 46 is Gregory. but if i dumped all my thoughts we'd be here all day so have this long ass explanation instead

#fnaf #ggy #patient 46 #dr. rabbit #fnaf security breach #tony becker #TZU rambles #a lot #TZU asks

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juneknight · 1 year

Note

My heart goes out to you rn 💞 I'm going to tip the shit out of you I just get nervous about my account ever seeing the light of day 😬

So kind of a specific one, but could you do a situation with the boys where the reader feels unattractive bc she doesn't think she looks feminine enough? Possibly ending in some NSFW comfort 👀

(I'm afab and I've had two people assume I'm a boy in the last month bc I have a short haircut, feeling a little sensitive about it 😅)

Thank you so much if you have tipped or when you tip. Every penny is so appreciated. Also, as someone who has shaved her head a few times, I felt this!

About this: steven grant/ fem!reader, talks of femininity vs masculinity, some innuendo at the end, pretty soft and sweet with a hint of toppy Steven.

Reader gets a haircut and feels instant regret.

Steven isn’t supposed to check his phone at work. Donna takes the sale of overpriced stuffies very seriously (though she didn’t seem to care when Steven told her about the nuances between depicting Bastet with rounded ears vs pointed ears), and if she catches Steven even using his phone to check the time, she threatens to send him walking. But Steven’s phone has buzzed thrice in his pocket, and he knows that it is you.

No one else messages Steven; no one but you. For a while he just daydreams about what your messages might say. What little update might you have sent about your day? Are you asking what the two of you should have for dinner? Perhaps you’re even sending something of a more personal nature, something that will have Steven rushing to the loo to cool himself off. You’ve done that once before.

Maybe you’re even sending pictures. You had just gone to get a haircut that morning. If it had given you a confidence boost, Steven would gladly reap the benefits. Nothing drove him wilder than when you were so clearly appreciating your own allure…gods, but he has to look.

Glancing around to make sure that Donna isn’t looming like a cloud about to rain on his parade, Steven works his phone from his trousers and sees that each message is from you. No pictures, though.

I made a mistake.

Five minutes later: In a foul mood. Called off the rest of the day. Be careful on the bus ride home.

A half hour ago: Bring something home for dinner? Xx

Steven frowns. Not quite any of the things he had imagined you might be saying. What sort of mistake had you made? Something at work? He knew that fouling up and pissing Donna off could put Steven in the most dismal of moods. Well. He made a silent vow to pick up your favorite take-away on the way home. Maybe even flowers. Or—

“Better be the bloody King calling you, or I’ll ban phones on the floor altogether,” Donna says from behind him, giving him a proper jumpscare.

Three hours and twenty-three stuffies later, Steven slips through the flat with fragrant Italian food under one arm and a bouquet of mostly-non-wilted roses tucked between the crook of his elbow and his side.

“Hellooo,” he calls lightly, a hint of trepidation filling him when you aren’t immediately visible. He sets his flat keys aside and puts the take-away and flowers on the kitchen table, eyes scanning the flat for you. You aren’t curled up in your armchair (the one right beside his). You aren’t lounging on the loveseat watching the a documentary on the latest anthropology hot topic. You aren’t curled up in b—

Ah. You are. Except…

“Darling, are you hiding from me?” Steven wonders, looking at your figure completely obscured beneath the blankets. The blankets don’t move, though he hears your sigh. “Oh gods, she’s dead.”

Steven throws himself beside you on the bed, tossing an arm over your figure and dragging your blanketed body towards him. He presses his face into the crook of your neck (or possibly your armpit, difficult to tell beneath the thick coverlet) and lets out a showy sob. Immediately your figure snorts, struggling against him. Steven yelps and jerks away.

“Come out, you Osiris, freshly raised from the grave—”

His breath catches.

You have cut all your hair off into a short, modern style. It isn’t at all like anything you’ve done in the past, and it isn’t anything like what you had hinted you planned for the stylist to give you at the shop earlier that morning.

“Oh, darling. Be still my heart. You look amazing!”

Something passes over your face, some shadowed, vulnerable crack in your strong veneer. Your hand lifts, patting at the hair softly. “Do you really think so? Be honest.”

“I do! Not that I think I could ever feel otherwise, but you look incredible.Was this your mistake? Did the stylist take a little too much off the top?”

“No–no this is what I wanted her to give me,” you admit, wiping at your nose gently. Steven sees then that your eyes are red, a little swollen from tears. “I thought that it was going to make me feel so…badass. And it did! But then at lunch the waiter said, Yes, Sir, when I asked him if I could have another glass of iced-tea, and then a coworker pulled a face and said that I was so brave and it was far too masculine for her taste and I just…this isn’t what I wanted.”

Steven scoffs. He rolls onto his back and opens his arm, making room for you to wiggle up against his side, your head resting on his shoulder. Your hair smells like the posh shampoo and conditioner they use at the stylist you go to, when he kisses the crown of your head.

“That’s bollocks. Poor waiter must have been blind—I don’t want to imagine all the dishes he was breaking in the back. And too masculine for her taste? Well it’s a bloody good thing it’s not her hair, nor her taste you’re trying to appeal to! You know, I have half a mind to go to work with you tomorrow and tell her what’s what—”

“Do you mean it? I’m not too boyish, like this?”

Steven softens even further, running a hand up and down the length of your side that he can reach. “No. I don’t buy in to all that, love. Hair is just hair, long or short or anywhere in between. It doesn’t change who you are. You get to decide what’s feminine or not, and to hell with anyone who thinks otherwise. But if my two-pounds helps at all…you know I’m only attracted to women. If I’m attracted to you more than any other woman—what’s that say about you?”

“That I am the most womanly of womans,” you say with a wet little laugh, wiping at your eye.

“I mean it,” Steven says lowly. Moving his hand from your side to your back, he rolls you onto him until your chests are flush together, relishing in the weight of you against him before you sit up, straddling his thighs. His eyes move over you: your hair, your features, your clothes. All of the pieces that come together to create a picture of the woman he loves. “You drive me mad, you know that don’t you?”

A little breathless, you shift against his lap. “I think I can feel it.”

“You think?”

“Yeah.”

“I think I’d like to kiss you.”

You lean down, one hand against his chest, feeling the firmness of his pecs through the kitschy short-sleeve dress shirt he had donned underneath his jacket that day. His kiss is already hungry, the way Steven’s kisses usually start: a little desperate, a little like he is afraid you will stop kissing him any moment. But then he relaxes, licks languidly into your mouth. Beneath you, his cock hardens the rest of the way, and you can’t help but shift against it, working til it is in that perfect spot dead center between your legs.

“I love you so much,” you murmur, trailing kisses down his jaw and into the juncture of his neck.

Suddenly there is a bright burst of tension on your scalp as he grips your hair and tugs you back away from his neck, a gasp slipping from your swollen mouth. His eyes are dark, the pupils huge, liable enough to swallow you whole.

“Still plenty for me to grab on to, isn’t there?” Steven breathes.

You let your eyes flutter shut as he tugs again, feeling the ache all the way down between your thighs.

“Better make good use of it…”

#steven grant x reader

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nobizlikeshowbiz · 3 months

Note

Y'know, i did always wonder... how old are yall? The only thing i know is that Mitzi's bday is on new years

I asked Looney Bird if I could answer this one because I thought it was really sweet that you remembered my birthday and I wanted to tell you that personally, and I just thought it'd be fun to get to answer one of the questions!

To start off, I'm 15 and like you said, my birthday's January 1st, and I'm a Capricorn!

You'd think it'd be a pretty easy question for everyone else to answer, but I asked everybody to make sure I had it right and it went downhill FAST.

Billy Bob: This wasn't even supposed to be a competition, but Billy Bob wins for being the only one to actually give me an actual answer. He's 26.

Looney Bird: I watched him count on his fingers for what felt like ages before Billy Bob finally stepped in and told me he's 23. Who doesn't remember how old they are?* Fatz: He tried to pull that "gorilla years" junk again before Beach Bear told me he's "43 years young", which left Fatz, for once in his long life**, totally speechless. Someone should probably check on Beach Bear to make sure he's still... y'know. Alive.***

Beach Bear: I didn't even bother asking Beach Bear because he always gives you a different answer. I think the highest he's told any of us was 40, and the lowest was 20? Which makes it a little hard to guess, which I guess is kind of the point. Fatz swears that he's 24, but knowing Beach Bear, I don't think we'll ever know for sure!

Dook: Walked away laughing after making a joke about Beach Bear's mom that I gotta admit was a little bit funny, but I don't think I can post on here****. But long story short, I think he forgot to answer the question.

Rolfe: I didn't ask for a lecture about how rude it is to ask someone their age and how "as a young lady, I should know better", but you'll never guess what I got. For that, I'm telling you all what I do know, and that's that Rolfe's the second oldest member behind Fatz*****.

Earl: I don't even know if Earl technically has a birthday, and I wasn't about to stick around Ranting Rolfe long enough to find out.******

Anyway, thanks for the question! Let us know if you have any more! <3

-Mitzi M.

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

FOOTNOTES:

GENERAL NOTE: Please remind Mitzi that while her honesty is appreciated, she doesn't have to be quite so honest? -Billy Bob

*Forgive me for losing track of time! -Looney Bird

**Mitzi, honey, you know I love you, but was this really necessary? -FATZ

***I'd like to go on the record confirming that I am, in fact, still alive, and would also like to remind Fatz in particular that, per our collective agreement when Looney Bird made this account, no one's allowed to directly edit someone else's post without first confronting said someone in person. See you guys at work tomorrow. -BB

****Dook here. You definitely can't. -Dook LaRue

*****You're walking on thin ice with this one. -FATZ

******Just you wait until the next time I see you, you terrible little COME BACK LATER WITH WITTY COMEBACK -R. DeWolfe

//OOC NOTE: Since the Rock-afire's canon timeline is a little wonky, the ages mentioned are based on how I headcanon them at the beginning of the Rock-afire days. However, the timeline this blog exists in kind of lives in a vacuum. Everything in Rock-afire canon is still up for questioning, even if it's from the later years. :)

#rock afire explosion #showbiz pizza #mitzi mozzarella #billy bob brockali #looney bird #fatz geronimo #beach bear #dook larue #rolfe dewolfe #earl schmerle #ask blog

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boygiwrites · 7 months

Text

Harley D. Dixon 26

Harley D. Dixon's Pinterest Board! Harley D. Dixon's Playlist!

📖Chapter List.

Author's Note.

We. Are. Back!!

It's been almost six months!! 😶 Motivation comes and goes, but I'm very happy to be posting again. Like I said in a comment on Ao3, this book is too special to me to ever abandon. Thank you for your patience!! 💙

When Rick kicks the stool out from under Jim's feet, there's a simple crunch sound, and then he's dead.

I watch from afar as his body dangles from the rafters like a doll filled with sand, wondering why I thought it would be louder. It feels like I can breathe again. As if I've had a noose of my own wrapped around my throat until this very moment. Jim's dead. He ain't a threat. Just dead and dangling. Silence pours out across the farm. It feels strangely comforting; a hug from somebody you thought you didn't like.

I know Dale would disagree. I don't gotta ask to know he didn't want this.

If he weren't under six feet of dirt and bugs right now, I think I'd tell him I'm sorry.

Not just for Jim having to die, but also for being angry. He knew it never did nobody any good to be angry. If I hadn't told Carl to leave that muddy walker alone, wanting it to suffer and pay for some crime weren't even its fault, then maybe Dale would still be here.

I kinda realize in this moment that I don't care if dead people don't gotta see bad things. Because Dale ain't get to see the good things anymore, either. Like books and soup. Hugs, jokes. The baby, once it's born. Neither does Momma or Sophia or Shane.

It's like Jim said. I should be dead by now. On account of all laws of nature and chance, I should be long dead.

But obviously, I ain't.

And I'd be a stupid, silly, brainless little girl to not think that makes me at least a little bit lucky.

As I fiddle with the metal buckle of my overalls, Dad and Rick carry Jim outta the shed, their hands hooked around the dead man's armpits and ankles. Carol's probably thinking something like, He's with his loved ones now. But I ain't Carol, and I don't believe in heaven, so all I'm thinking is, I hope it didn't hurt. I've never had my neck snapped before, so I wouldn't know. They shuffle over to the pile of wood and walker bodies, tossing him on top, dusting their hands off on their pants. They's gonna burn him. No graves for them that ain't family.

Good. We have enough of those, anyway.

Dad and Rick turn away from the pile, their faces largely blank.

Before they can see me, I stand from my spot near the fence and scurry away, because I know I'm not meant to be watching.

That morning, everybody gets busy doing something. Whether it's bringing supplies into the house or cleaning a grimy rifle, nobody's twiddling they thumbs. There's something about putting work into a thing that needs it that clears the mind, I guess. Stops us from thinking about Jim, anyhow. Me, I help out by going around with a basket of fresh fruit, handing them out to anybody who wants some.

The first people I swing by are Rick and T. They've begun reinforcing the fences together, using old metal sheets and planks of wood to barricade any weak points they find. They gratefully take a juicy pear each, leaning against their handiwork to bite into the sweet flesh, groaning at the taste. Something nice happens in my chest when I see them smile. It's like looking at a puppy. You just can't be sad.

"Wow, this is good," T-Dog nods, turning the fruit over in his hand. "Thanks, Harley."

Rick doesn't say nothin', but I'm just glad to see him enjoying himself. Even for just a moment.

I head over to Patricia and Carol next, who are scrubbing at some laundry over by the trees. I earn myself two more smiles when they take a couple peaches, leaving them to their own devices and making my way through everyone else. Herschel, keeping Maggie company as she hangs up some wet clothes over a line in the sun. Jacqui and Lori, tidying up camp a bit, preparing lunch. Jimmy, polishing guns.

When I give a pear to Dad, who's fixing some of his crossbow bolts, he kisses my cheek as thanks.

And Beth. I don't forget her. She sits in the bay window of her bedroom, nibbling away at a green apple.

I know eating a good piece of fruit ain't never stopped nobody from wanting to kill themselves, but everything counts.

I've only got a peach, apple, and a pear left tumbling around in my basket when I approach Glenn and Andrea. They're stood around the hood of Dale's RV, frowning into the rubber tubes and gears like there's a jigsaw puzzle in there, muttering to each other.

"You gotta tap it three times," I think he's saying, pointing at something, "And—"

"— And give her a twist," Andrea sighs, throwing her hands up. "I know, I know."

Glenn notices me out the corner of his eye. He doesn't light up exactly, but the tension leaves his shoulders. "Oh. Hey, Harley."

"Hey." I give a little smile, holding out the basket. "Y'all want some fruit?"

"Ugh. Yes, please."

They each pick one out, leaving me with the apple. I toss the basket onto the nearby folding chair and bite into its waxy skin, the sugary juices leaking down my chin. It's sweet as candy. Well, from what I remember candy tastin' like, anyway. It's delicious.

Andrea seems to agree. "God. Remind me to always become stranded on a farm with an orchard."

Glenn bites a chunk out of his peach as he takes the screwdriver from the blonde, scooting around her to stand in front of the exposed engine. "Here. Let me have a go... Dale told me that in these old vehicles, the points get corroded."

I wipe my sticky chin, watching as he pokes around with the small tool.

Dale knew everything there was to know about this RV. Whenever it broke down, he didn't even need to check beneath the hood before he knew exactly what was wrong with it. Hell, even I've picked up on its quirks by now, and I know jack about vehicles. There's all sorts of screws and bolts and duck tape crammed into the poor thing's inner workings, but it just refuses to die. Like a stubborn old mule.

A bit like Dale. No matter how many times ya put that old man down, he'd come back ten times stronger.

"I let him down," Glenn suddenly sighs, and it's easy to know who he's talking about.

I glance over his shoulder, through the front windshield. Dale's ridiculous amount of souvenir air fresheners still hang from the mirror. Oklahoma. Illinois. Missouri. Kansas. That ain't even half of 'em. We used to tease him about them, but he always just laughed us off and recited some philosophical quote from a dead guy about how memories feed the soul, or whatever.

Nobody ever understood it when he said stuff like that, but I still know we all miss it.

"He was proud of you," Andrea tells him; then me, "Both of you."

I sheepishly look away, picking at the stem of my apple. No, he weren't. But that's nice of her to say.

"That's easy for you to say." Glenn shakes his head. "You had his back."

She doesn't know what to say for a moment.

"Well... All I know is that there's no way he didn't know how much we all cared for him, even in the end. He was too smart for that."

I got no doubts about that. He knew everything. Knew everything about the RV, about poetry, about us. He was just one of them types of people. I only wish I hadn't argued with him that day, but I argue with Dad all the time, and he still loves me. So, can't all be bad.

Glenn pulls back from the engine with a resolute, "Welp... That should do it."

When Andrea climbs inside and twists the key into the ignition, I'm proven right. This old RV just refuses to die.

"Well done, Glenn," I smile over the noise of the engine. "You did it."

He turns to me with a smile of his own, looking proud of himself.

After that, he and Dad leave the farm to search for a hearing aid.

Maggie hands them a list of houses they can try their luck in, and then we exchange the usual goodbye hugs and kisses before waving them off. There ain't no use in sitting around, wondering if they're going to get bitten and die because of me, so I leave to find something I can distract myself with instead. Luckily, Rick and T-Dog are more than happy to let me help them out with the fences.

If we're gonna get serious about staying here at the farm, we're gonna have to make some upgrades.

I obidiently tail them as they work, lugging around a bucket filled with rusty nails to pass to them.

"You know, Harley," Rick grunts as he hammers a scrap of metal to the wooden posts, "Carl still ain't stopped chewin' my ear off about all those things you taught him the other day. If I have to hear the word 'mushroom' one more time... I'll go crazy."

I pluck a nail from the pile and hand it to T-Dog.

Just to be annoying, I say, "Mushroom, mushroom, mushroom."

"Hey. Watch it." He scolds me, but not very well. He's smiling. "Anyway. You two ain't on good terms right now, are you?"

I raise a brow. "How'd ya know?"

"Well, I figured you'd be playin' with him right now if you were. And to be honest, he's been in a bit of a mood lately."

I huff a little, silently cursing Rick's parents for making him like this. "We squabbled. That's all."

He hums thoughtfully.

"Whenever I argued with my sisters," T-Dog tells us, "They'd start messin' with me. They'd hide my Xbox controller. Eat my snacks."

Rick chuckles. "They sound nice."

"Yeah, you could say that," He chuckles along with him. "A real pair of peaches."

"Well, Carl ain't done any of that," I suppose, adjusting the bucket in my grasp, "But he did call me a stupid baby."

Rick turns to look at me. "What?"

"He snitched on me about the shed and called me a stupid baby. Then I told him I hated his guts."

As I stand there, he fixes at me with a funny, What am I going to do with you?, sort of look, until he returns his attention to the work at hand. "Well, he was right to 'snitch' on you, but I'll have a talk with him when I can. It's not okay to name-call."

"I think it's 'cause he's gonna be a brother soon." I think aloud. "He said he's gotta protect me."

T-Dog argues, "You got all of us here to protect you. Boy's got nothing to stress about."

"I know. He just likes bein' somebody's keeper."

Hammering the last nail into the metal, Rick gives the thing a bit of a shake to test its strength, pleased to see it won't budge.

"Okay, I think this one's good." He decides. "Let's move onto the next one."

As we gradually make our way down the fence line, we continue chatting away about other useless things. The weather, future plans for the farm. Something we don't talk about, though, is the baby inside Lori's belly. I don't think Rick wants to think about it, let alone talk about it. He must be mulling over all the hundreds of things that could go wrong. As the leader, that's his special talent.

By the time we reach the area around the barn, I'm not listening to the conversation anymore. It's difficult to concentrate on making out their voices for such a long time, so I just tune myself out, absentmindedly gazing past the two of them, into the field.

That's when I notice something off about the burning pile.

It's still sitting there, a boring bunch of wood and junk, but the problem is I can't seem to spot Jim's body on it.

I know they didn't move it to some other place, and it's definitely not been lit on fire yet, so it can't be that.

When Rick holds out his hand for me to pass him another nail, I leave him hanging. He frowns down at me in concern; confusion. I think he says my name, but then he follows my gaze, followed suit by T-Dog. I can tell the exact moment they catch on.

"Okay," T-Dog levels with nobody in particular, holding up his hands, "That's creepy as shit."

"Stay here," Rick wearily tells us, before jogging away to investigate.

I don't need to be told twice. Clutching the bucket to my stomach like it's a teddy bear, I huddle closer to T, letting him step in front of me as if a chupacabra is gonna pop out from under the debris and gobble us all up. We watch Rick approach the burn pile, creeping up on it, concerned he might wake it up. He peeps this way and that, the hammer held tight in his grasp, ready to strike.

Was Jim bit, I find myself wondering, Was he bit, and we just didn't notice?

No. No, that can't be right. If he was bit, he would've turned long before we had the chance to hang him.

Rick flinches backward. He gawks at his own two feet. I think he might've crossed paths with a snake, or even that chupacabra, but then a hand shoots out from behind the burn pile and we learn the thing tryna bite him ain't an animal. It's got black hair and a grubby red shirt, a pair of milky eyeballs. It's Jim. He crawls after Rick like he's tryna avenge his own death, his neck still swollen and wrong.

Once he's absorbed his own shock, Rick brings the hammer down on Jim's skull, but he's fresh, so it's not mushy like it is usually. He has to bludgeon him two, three, four more times before the bone cracks open like an egg, wet brains dribbling down his face.

We all catch our breaths. I don't think any of us were prepared to watch Jim die twice today.

"Where was the bite?" T-Dog calls out, sounding like he's about to barf all over himself.

Rick kneels to check under Jim's shirt, flip him over, roll up his pant legs, because of course he does. There has to be a bite.

But when he stands, he calls back, "I can't see one."

There's a gaping pause between us all.

"Well, it ain't on his ass cheek, is it?"

Rick raises a brow as he steps over the body. "You wanna go check, be my guest."

"Nah, thank you, man." He answers drily, eyeing the blood dripping from the head of the hammer. "Well, what the Hell happened?"

Instead of telling us he doesn't know, or offering up a theory, Rick just sighs. He tosses the hammer into the little wagon we've been pulling along with us, rubbing at the faint wrinkles on his forehead. I remain hiding behind T-Dog. I know there's no snake or chupacabra to be heard of, and now, not even a Jim. But I don't like the danger in the air. The danger of something being wrong and not knowing what it is.

Rick lowers his hand, gaze landing on me. He keeps it there for a moment.

To be a walker, you gotta get bit. I can't see one. Everyone knows that.

"Come on," He eventually mutters, reaching to take the heavy bucket from me. "Let's get back to the house."

"Rick, what's wrong?" I whine as he grabs my hand. "We ain't workin' on the fence no more? Why?"

T-Dog snatches up the handle of the wagon and hurries after us.

"Don't worry about it, honey," He soothes, giving my fingers a squeeze. "The grownups will handle it, okay?"

Rick says this, just like he always has, but all he does when we get back to camp is eat lunch and talk to Maggie about our progress on the fence. I decide it's not a big deal. I trust him. Maybe he's just waiting until me and Carl aren't around to talk with the other adults about it. Maybe Jim did somehow get bit while he was in the shed. Maybe it really was on his ass cheek. I won't pretend to know.

In any case, I dig into my scrambled eggs and buttered bread without giving it much more thought.

After lunch, the three of us go back to working on the fence, anyway.

"Hope you enjoyed the apple."

With her forehead resting against the window, Beth gazes down at the farm, like some lonely angel peering down at another world. The afternoon sun gently contours the subtle curves of her girlish face, which isn't looking nearly as dreadfully pale as it did before.

"I did," She answers sweetly, smiling as I come to sit next to her on the thin cushions. "Thanks, by the way."

I give a shrug. "Yer sister says peach and pear season's just about up, so all we's got for a while is apples, anyway."

She surprises me by giggling at me, a pretty tinkling sound that suits her. "That shouldn't be a problem for you, right?"

My cheeks go warm. "Huh?"

"I saw you," She explains, a fondness in her eyes. "Chowin' down on that apple just before."

"When I was wit' Glenn and Andrea?"

She nods. "You were smiling. It was nice."

I contemplate calling her a stalker, but all that comes outta my mouth is an amused scoff, rolling my eyes and turning to look out the window. I understand why she likes it up here. I can see the whole farm. People milling about camp, chickens pecking at the ground. And off in the distance, the herd of black cows dotting the paddocks like little beetles, munching on bales of hay. And quiet. Precious quiet.

I glance at the distant treeline, thinking about the recent whispers of the horde. I brush it off quick as I can.

I steal a glance at Beth, instead.

That little smile is still pulling at her lips, a lively glint in the soft green of her eyes.

For some reason - mainly my talent for speaking without thinking - I ask her suddenly, "Do you still wanna die?"

She stiffens ever so slightly, and I only have a few short moments to feel awful about it before she meets my eyes.

"I just mean," I continue, wishing I ever knew the right thing to say. I think back to when Carl was in my exact position, asking nicely for me to not do what Beth did. He also threatened to smack me in the face, but I don't imagine that would go over too well with Beth. Neither would shouting at her like Dad. So, I just do something stupid, another one of my talents, and I improvise. "I been worried about you. Not, like, pity or nothin', but... I know how you feel. And after Dale... I realized that just 'cause people die, it don't mean I gotta die, too. It ain't a reason to wanna die. It's a reason to wanna live. 'Cause I'm just glad I ever knew Dale and Sophia and everyone else that died at all."

I feel encouraged by her glassy expression to keep talking. Not that I could stop myself if I tried.

"So that makes us lucky, y'know. Yer Momma's dead. My Momma's dead. But we loved 'em, and you can keep lovin' other people, but not if you're in a grave somewhere. Besides, it would just pass it on to them that would miss us. Not worth it, if ya ask me."

When I finish my word puke, she pins me with a tense, watery look that makes my insides cramp up.

"Maggie told me," She says, "That if I decided to keep living, that I'd find moments where I'd know I made the right decision."

She takes a deep breath, chuckling afterward.

"I think this is one of those moments," She decides.

"It is?"

I feel a weird sense of pride. I know me and my stupid apple and bad advice didn't singlehandedly solve anythin', but I was able to make her realize she don't got nothin' to regret by surviving her own mind, and that's more than enough for me.

I nod, trying not to smile, because this is supposed to be a serious moment. "Good. That's... good."

Her chuckles turn into laughter. "Why you so awkward all the darn time, Harley?"

Then I'm being wrapped up in a hug. I hate hugs. But this one ain't too terrible.

When we part, I ask her, "Are we friends?"

She seems to find that funny. "'Course."

"Well, my Dad and Glenn are gonna be gone for a few more hours," I tell her, "So, we should play something 'til then."

Beth warns me that she's seventeen years old, so she might not be able to play the same way me and Carl play, but that's okay. We don't have to play pretend or anything. We can do something she likes. Apparently, that's painting our nails. I have to try not to pull a face, but I guess I end up pulling one anyway, because she bursts into giggles and pulls me to my feet. I'm not the biggest fan of girly things. It's just not what I grew up with. I'm used to scuffing my nails while climbing trees and playing in the dirt, not painting them. But I'll give it a go.

"What's your favorite color?" She asks me, setting me down on her bed and rummaging through her desk.

"Yellow," I chirp.

"Actually," She lilts, pulling out a little bottle of yellow polish, squinting at the label. "It's Electric Spring Citrus."

I scoot over to make room for her on the bed, presenting my nails to her.

The afternoon slips away easily after that.

Nighttime paints over the orange sky.

Me and Beth have migrated downstairs by the time the sun has disappeared beneath the farm, lured in by the domestic commotion of dinner being prepared. It's soup again. I recognise the smell by now. While we wait to be served by Maggie and Patricia, the rest of us gather around the coffee table, ribbing each other as we break the rules of a card game Jacqui suggests. Carl keeps cheating by lying about what cards he has, but he's too dumb to realize he'll have to show them to us at some point. I laugh hysterically when he loses.

"You weren't listenin' to the rules, was ya?" I enjoy taunting him as he goes red. "Typical!"

He complains, "Shut up, Harley!"

"Okay, okay," Lori placates, doing a very bad job of hiding her smile behind her fan of cards. "Settle down."

I almost don't think about Dad and Glenn or Dale or Sophia or Shane or Momma for the whole game. By my standards, that makes for a good time. Carl continues losing miserably, whining even more miserably-er, while Jacqui beats us over and over again.

I'm reminded of the night we had our first dinner together - The one where Patricia made everyone feel super uncomfortable, and then I almost died. It's hard to believe this is the same house and the same people. Probably because it's filled with laughter.

We continue playing even through dinner.

When I lose for the fifth time, I take my bowl of soup and retire to one of the sofas, settling in next to Rick and quietly sipping at the warm broth. He sends me a bit of a look as if to ask me if I'm okay, probably reading my face in that weird way he got, noticing I'm thinking about Dad and Glenn. I reply with a simple nod. He doesn't seem satisfied with that response, but he can't do nothin' about it.

It's too noisy in here for him to talk to me, and neither of us know a single lick of sign language.

So, he just gives me a thumbs up and hopes it gets the point across. They'll be okay.

Eventually, even Herschel gets roped into playing.

"Hey, I actually happen to know a thing or two about this," He tells us, before proceeding to eviscerate Jacqui at her own game.

We all go awww, as she throws down her cards.

"Darn..." She sighs. "You weren't lyin', old man."

"As Jesus as my witness," He holds up a hand, "I never lie."

Lori asks, "Where'd you learn to get this good?"

"I used to spend a lot of my time in bars, young lady." He explains. "I got more than enough practice finessing card games."

"Well, I'd say it paid off."

He raises his fluffy white brows. "They used to call me Great-Hand Greene back in the day, you know."

Everybody in the room can't help but laugh.

"Now, Daddy," Maggie exclaims, "That's a lie!"

Great-Hand Greene calmly enlightens her, "It surely isn't."

This is the moment headlights turn into the driveway. Everyone turns to look. My heart squeezes. Dad and Glenn. The two lights come to a sudden stop, watching us like two eyeballs through the dark. The sound of doors slamming. I place my bowl on the coffee table and hurry out of the lounge room, followed by some other footsteps. But when I reach the foyer, the door bursts open without my doing.

Dad first, then Glenn. Both of my lungs deflating in relief, and then both of them knotting right back up again.

"That horde's headed this way," Dad wastes no time in announcing, "And it ain't stopping for nothin'."

Everybody freezes. A horde? The horde? Headed our way? Right now?

Rick pushes past everyone. "You saw it?"

"Trust me, man." He jokes dryly, shaking his head. "You can't miss this thing anymore."

"There were hundreds of them," Glenn agrees, frantic. His hair is suckered to his forehead with sweat, even though the season's turned. "We were over by Mallory Road when we caught wind of them; got us stuck for a couple hours until we could slip past."

"Not that it matters now," Dad snides.

Maggie asks, "Were you able to get the hearin' aid?"

He gives a nod, but nobody's paying attention. "Bits and pieces."

"Patricia," Herschel orders, our card game long forgotten, "Kill the lights."

We follow Rick out onto the porch. The night welcomes us with a cold gust of wind. At first, I can't see much of anythin', but then the lights blink out one by one and my stomach drops into the floorboards. On the other side of the field, leaking out from between the trees, are bodies, bodies, and bodies, so many it's not worth trying to count. They make the group on the highway look like a couple of stragglers.

As the masses of feet stumble up the driveway, I'm hit with the feeling that our fences aren't going to save us.

"I'll get the guns." Andrea mutters, and I think that feeling has hit everyone else, too.

Rick runs off in the direction of the cars. It's where we've kept our bags of emergency supplies for a time like this. Does that mean we're gonna leave? Or are we gonna fight? Is it even possible? I didn't even get to finish my soup. That feels important, somehow.

"Maybe they're just passing." Somebody stupidly guesses. "Like that herd on the highway."

"Should we go back inside?"

"Not unless there's a tunnel downstairs I don't know about." Dad drawls, gazing out. "Horde this size will rip the house down."

I worry up at him, "Daddy, I don't want it to rip the house down."

He shushes me, putting a strong hand on the nape of my neck, squeezing reassuringly. I let it calm me. I feel a fool for panicking, but if there were ever a time to panic, it would be now. I cling to him as Andrea dumps the bag of guns on the floor. She passes them out to everyone that got two thumbs and a brain. Maggie, Glenn, Dad, Rick. Jimmy. Even Herschel. Nobody is being left out of this fight.

Not even me and Carl. A gun is pushed each of our hands. You know how to use it, I remind myself.

"This the plan, then?" Dad confirms with everyone, because it's crazy. "We take 'em all on?"

Andrea passes me a loaded mag. I don't have to count the bullets inside to know it's not enough.

"We have guns. We have cars."

"We kill as many as we can." She's on board. "We'll use the cars to lead the rest of them off the farm."

"The burn pile," Glenn adds, "There's a bunch of kerosine and matches down there. We could lure them into the barn, set it on fire."

Rick climbs back onto the porch. "Bags are all packed. If things start to get hairy, we can leave."

"We're not leaving." Herschel argues.

"Herschel—"

"This is my farm." His voice booms as he pumps a pair of fat bullets into his shotgun's chamber, fire in his eyes. "I'll die here."

"Alright." Dad lilts over the droning rumble of death incoming, looking around for objections. "It's as good a night as any."

I get herded into Maggie's car. Dad gives my face a kiss and slams the door shut. I bump the mag up into the chamber. I know how to use it. I do. Two more slams. Glenn at the wheel, Maggie in the passenger seat. I've shot two walkers before, when I was out in the woods with Shane. I just have to do it again. And after that, again and again until they're all gone. Glenn stomps on the gas. The car screeches forward, ripping through the grass, barrelling into the night. I don't even bother buckling myself in. That's not how I would die tonight.

"You got enough ammo back there, honey?" Maggie fusses, digging through the glovebox and throwing me a spare.

"Thanks." I catch the cardboard box, trying not to shiver as Glenn rolls down all the windows. Groans and wind flood the car.

He shouts, "Start shooting!"

Just like that, gunshots erupt from all possible angles.

I grip my pistol tight, aim it out the window. You're gonna hold it like this, Shane's voice tells me, Firm. Confident. You're the one in control, here. I'm in control. My home's bein' invaded by the dead, and a horde this size might rip the house down, but I'm in control. The car spins. I lurch. It's hard to aim like this, but I gotta try. I line my eye up with the wobbling sight. I breathe in and out.

I squeeze. BANG.

I can't even tell what I hit, or if I hit anything at all, but it don't matter. I squeeze again. BANG.

Glenn weaves us in and out, around, through the horde, never getting too close, never veering too far.

In the other car, T-Dog, Andrea, and Carl. They swerve around us, shooting down every dead bastard they can hit.

I squeeze. BANG.

BANG, and again, BANG, and again, BANG.

The jaw of a nearby walker explodes off its meaty hinges. It swings around. It trips. It slumps. I've killed it.

"How we doing back there, Harley?" Glenn calls out. "You okay?"

"I— I'm fine!" I shout back, pulling my body back into my seat to reload.

I peel open the box of ammo. A curse falls from my tongue when the little bullets go tumbling onto my feet, rolling under the seats. I quickly snatch them up, shoving them into the mag. On the other side of the car door, fireworks of gunpowder and bullets, squealing tires and breaking bones, a blazing Hellfire lighting up the sky. Orange and roaring. I notice it, then. Dad. Rick. That must be them. They've set the barn on fire. It's cracking and falling to pieces, a burning church. The walkers fight to get inside like it's the last Sunday on Earth.

An important beam succumbs to the flames, snapping in half like a broken twig, bringing the rest down with it.

I hear wood breaking, and then there are chickens running lose across the field, screaming, flapping.

I squeeze and I squeeze and I squeeze. BANG.

A rotten old man crumples to the ground. BANG.

A lady's shoulder bursts open, a pop of bone and muscle. BANG.

A girl with one of the poor birds in her mouth, choking on feathers, dead. BANG.

For every one we kill, five more are there within a heartbeat to replace it. Glenn's foot falters on the pedal, and we come to a crawl, and then a stop, unable to do much but watch as the farm is consumed. This is a losing battle. There's no other type.

Herschel said we weren't leaving tonight, but that can't be true. I guess he is a liar, after all.

"We gotta go," Maggie's shaking her head, the tears in her eyes collecting like little pearls. "We're not gonna win this. We gotta go."

As if only to prove her point, the barn collapses once and for all. I almost feel like crying.

"I'm sorry, Maggie." Glenn says weakly.

Yeah. Me, too. I gaze out at the oak tree, still standing bravely; the little wooden crosses clueless beneath it.

As Glenn drives us back into the chaos, my pistol stays in my lap. I don't got any bullets left, anyway. I just sit there, watching everything pan by. Mine and Dad's camping spot, tucked away in the distant trees, just how we liked it. The crumbled fireplace where I talked to Dale for the last time. The shed. The swing outside it me and Carl used to play on. The orchard. The patch of dirt where Sophia died.

I wish I had the power to know when things were gonna end. That way, I could've savoured my last day.

It's not as cool as the superpower's them people in Carl's comics got, but it's the one I'd want.

It was silly. Working on the fences today with Rick and T-Dog made me think we were gonna be okay.

When I look up, we're approaching the house. Jacqui's sitting on the porch steps all by herself, staring out at us.

Glenn pulls us in close, getting out and hovering around the hood of the car, waving her over. "Come on! We gotta go!"

I crawl across the seats and shove open the door. "Jacqui? Come on!"

She's not coming. Why is she not coming? The door is open. We can all leave together. When I call out her name again, she convulses ever so slightly, as if she's got a bad cough but doesn't wanna let it out. I feel my face fall all at once. Her arm gives out, slumping from her neck, into her lap. I notice the blood first, all ten gallons of it, and then the bite. Her muscles spasm again. Oh. No, no, no.

"Jacqui?" I call out uselessly, but Glenn's already back in the driver's seat and Jacqui's already dying.

"C-Close your door, Harley," He orders, slamming his own.

She's dying. We can't stay here. I know both these things, but it still takes everything in me to pull the door shut.

After that, the deaths just keep coming. We drive past Patricia as the horde pull her into their mouths, Jimmy as he stumbles from the RV, clutching at his open throat. There's nothing we can do for any of them, but we manage to reach Carol just in time. She climbs into the seat next to me, and we ask her if she's seen anybody else, but she hasn't; she hasn't seen anybody.

Turning my face to the open window, I let the wind dry my tears, seein' as my Daddy ain't here to do it for me.

The faces of the horde pass by, a sea of rats on a burning ship.

I want to go collect my things. I want to pet the cows one last time. I want to do everything we won't get to.

My body lurches all on its own, then.

A face in the crowd. It's different from the rest. I'm not good with faces or names, something my teachers used to grumble over, but I'm good with this one. That one walker, tucked in with the rest of them, wearing the Police cap. It's Shane Walsh, dead and walking.

How? How is that possible? Why are the tears back tenfold, now?

Lit by the moon and the flames, I see his broken cheekbones for the first time since that day, the way they're bulbous like apples, mishappen like clay. Everything about him is wrong. His nose is broke. Clothes all mussed up. Ribs pouring. His eyes are glossed over. He don't seem to mind his broken body, or the fire, or the smoke. He just wants what all other walkers want. To bite into something. It's him, but not.

I almost want him to look at me. I clutch my locket, wanting our eyes to meet just to make him prove it.

This just can't be true. He didn't get bit. He got shot and beaten, but he didn't get bit.

As if I've willed him to do it, he looks my way.

"Carol," I croak, watching as he noses at the air like the animal Dad always said he was, "You got any bullets left?"

I feel something being placed in my hand. It feels just like the locket, but colder. I shakily load it into the chamber; lift the gun. I believe in you, His voice is back. Now line your eye up with the sight. I stare down the barrel, carefully placing his face on top of the sights. I only have this one bullet. I can't miss. Not only because I need to put him down, but because I think I want to make him proud.

Breathe, I take a deep breath, In and out.

Damn it. These fuckin' tears, they're messing up my aim. I smack them away and line up my shot again.

And squeeze.

BANG.

All the air rushes outta my lungs as his body hits the ground, disappearing amongst the horde.

I lower the gun.

Carol's already looking at me before I glance her way.

When we peel onto the highway, I can still see the flames burning over the tops of the trees, like some old religious painting.

Maggie breaks the silence. "What if nobody else made it?"

Nobody answers. I preferred it when the only noise in the car was the gentle humming of the engine, but I can't blame her for asking. We got no idea who else made it out alive. The four of us are all alone out here. Ain't no phone number we can just dial to ask if they're alright.

"They made it," Glenn eventually just decides, staring out at his high beams on the dark road. "They had to."

"Well, how are we going to find them?" Carol asks innocently, petting my hair as I lay my head in her lap. "They could be anywhere."

Maggie sighs. "We could circle back to that place I found y'all on the highway?"

"No," Mumbles Glenn. I can see his finger tapping against the wheel. "No, the horde came from that direction."

That's where our ideas run dry.

"Glenn?" I whine, clutching at my temple. He glances at me in the mirror, concern in his eyes. "My head. The ringing. Hurts."

He makes a troubled sound. "It must've been all those gunshots... I'm sorry."

Carol suggests, "Maybe we should just stop somewhere for the night."

There's a pause between them, but it's a short one, because it doesn't take much for Glenn to agree. He's musing to himself about how we can't drive all night. It would be a better use of gas to drive in the daylight. But really, we all know it's because he's a big softie.

He pulls us into a little nook on the side of the highway, killing the engine and turning on the ceiling light.

"I'm sorry," He says again, as if he put the ringing inside my head himself. "Maybe there's something in the supplies?"

Maggie unzippers the bag at her feet, pushing around the stuff inside it, shaking her head. "Just some water. Thirsty?"

I shake my head.

"I think we should all get some sleep." Says Carol, her voice a whisper.

Yeah. A good sleep sounds really good right about now. I think we've earnt it. Georgia will still be here when we wake up.

"Okay." He reaches up to press the ceiling button that turns on the moon, its dim white light spilling across the console in the dark. We all loosen slightly, completely exhausted. "We can just pick up again tomorrow. I'm sure the others are doing the same thing."

"Goodnight," Maggie tries to smile, reaching around her seat to stroke my shoulder.

"Goodnight," I mumble, echoed by Glenn and Carol, and then it's silent.

I close my eyes.

No eggs and buttered bread for breakfast today. Just a stale granola bar I gotta split with Carol, and a sip of water I gotta split with all three of them. After we take turns peein' in the bushes outside, we're back on the road again, and we're on it all day.

I don't know where we're going. I don't think Glenn knows, either.

I'm starting to think we might be driving all night, too, by the time we run into the others. That's right, the others. Herschel's shitty old pick-up truck is parked in a swath of brown leaves on the side of the road, right next to Dad's truck and bike, and another grey car.

When Glenn pulls on the brake, I think we're all crying happy tears, but I'm too busy crying happy tears to notice.

I climb out, grinning, running into my Dad's arms.

"Harley," He sighs in relief as he picks me up, squeezes me tight. "I knew they'd take good care of ya."

"I knew you'd take good care of you," I giggle, hooking my chin over his shoulder.

"How did you guys find each other?" Glenn marvels.

"Well, when I saw their little Toyota goin' the speed limit," He nods behind him, "Figured there just had to be a cop at the wheel."

As chuckles break out between the group, he places me back on the ground.

Maggie asks, "Where's the rest of us?"

"We're the only ones that made it so far," Rick answers, and it's now I notice just how much smaller we are now; barely ten. We're just as alone as we were when it was just me, Glenn, Maggie, and Carol. No shelter, no food, no direction. Feathers in the wind.

"Where's Andrea?"

Lori shakes her head. "She was with us at the farm, but we got separated."

"Did you see Jacqui?"

Jacqui. Poor Jacqui. Maggie, Glenn, and I share a look without even meaning to.

"It was awful, Dad," I mutter, the memory caught in my throat, "We found 'er by the house, but we had to leave her behind."

Glenn explains, "She was bit."

"They got Patricia, too." Beth says. "Took her right in front of me. I was holdin' onto her, Daddy, but they just..."

"We saw Jimmy, too." Maggie sighs as Herschel wraps her little sister in a hug. "He was in the RV. It got overrun."

"But, you guys definitely saw Andrea?"

"There— There were walkers everywhere," Lori seems sorry to say, "But, yeah. We saw her."

"Well, we have to go back for her."

Rick argues, "We don't even know if she's still there."

"She ain't." Dad butts in. "She's either somewhere else or she's dead."

"So, we're not even gonna look for her?"

"No. We gotta keep moving." Rick agrees. "There's walkers all over the place."

Maggie scoffs, "That's an understatement if I ever heard one."

"I say we head East." Dad suggests, pointing vaguely in the direction of the sinking sun, cresting through the fog. "Head East, and stay off any main roads like this one. Bigger the road, the more walkers we gon' run into. The more assholes like this one."

He lifts his hands from where he's been resting them on my back, swinging the crossbow off his shoulder.

"I got him." He grumbles, sending a bolt through the stray walker's nose.

"Well, I hate to tell you guys," T-Dog scratches at his head, "But we been riding red for the past hour."

"We can't all fit into two cars."

Rick decides, "We'll have to make a run for some gas in the morning."

"Spend the night here?" Beth hisses, shivering lightly. "I'm freezin'."

"We'll build a fire." He gestures at my Dad. "You can go out lookin' for firewood, but stay close."

He raises a greasy brow. "I only got so many arrows, man. We can't just sit here with our asses hangin' out."

"Watch your mouth," He snips.

Glenn raises his hands at the group. "Everyone just stop panicking, and listen to Rick."

"Look, Glenn and I can go make a run right now," Maggie placates, "Try and scrounge up some gas so we can get back on the road."

"No." He shuts her down. "We stay together. God forbid something happens and people get stranded without a car."

That other side of Rick is back - Someone I might as well start callin' Second Rick; Scary Rick - and everyone can tell. It's the same one that was outside the shed, telling us with no room for argument that he was going to execute Jim. He's tense. He's a rubber band pulled tight, his eyes darting from face to face, just waiting for a flash of disagreement from somebody for him to pounce on.

I make sure he don't find one on my face. I'm not keen on upsettin' him.

Glenn's a little braver than me, though, because he says incredulously, "Rick, we're stranded now."

He shakes his head. Not listening. Not accepting it. Just, No, no, no.

"I know it looks bad," He reasons, even though we don't need to be told. "We've all been through Hell and worse. But we found each other. I wasn't sure. I really wasn't, but..." He scans our faces again, a little less coldly this time, taking us all in. "But we did it. We're together, and that's all that matters. We'll find shelter someplace. It's gotta be out there somewhere. It's gotta be."

But we had shelter already, I feel like shouting at him, I don't want another one.

"Rick, look around, okay?" Glenn's voice raises. "There's walkers everywhere. They're— They're migrating or something."

"There's gotta be a place not just where we hole up," Rick doubles down without care for what he's saying, smacking his knuckles into his palm. "But that we can fortify. Hunker down. Pull something together for ourselves. Build a life for each other."

That's what we tried to do at the farm. He should know that. He was the one fixing the fences with me.

"I know it's out there," He says angrily, as if that place he's talkin' about is hiding just to spite him. "We just have to find it."

I muster up the courage to voice my thoughts.

"But, Rick," I say, "How many those places we already been?"

He shakes his head again. "We fooled ourselves into thinking they were safe. We won't make that mistake again."

At the quarry, our mistake was being too close to the city. That was way back in the beginning when nobody had died yet, and we thought we just had to wait it out until the army came. But they didn't. And after that, our second mistake was trusting Jenner. We wanted answers, but we almost lost everything trying to get 'em. Then, the farm. I guess that was a mistake, too, now. You never know 'til after.

I don't say anything to that. It's cold, and I'm hungry, and I don't want to argue any more.

He's pleased with my silence. "Okay... We make camp tonight here; get back on the road at the break of day."

Carol murmurs something.

Whatever it was, Beth agrees with her. "What if walkers come through, or another group like Jim's?"

"Speaking of Jim," T-Dog fixes Rick with a look. "We ever gonna talk about him?"

Lori's confused. "What do you mean? What could possibly be left to talk about?"

"We saw him turn," He's happy to reveal to everyone. "Thing is, though, he wasn't bit."

"How is that possible?"

"Shane, too." I blurt. "I— I saw him when the farm went down."

Lori turns her gawking expression onto her husband. "What the Hell is going on?"

He's not looking at any of us. He's glaring at some ordinary pebble on the ground, brooding, hesitating.

Then, "We're all infected."

What?

It's so vague and profound that nobody knows what to make of it.

My Dad does us all a favor and squints at him. "How you mean?"

"At the CDC," He confesses, his voice a hoarse whisper that I can only just make out, "Jenner told me. Whatever it is, we all carry it."

We all carry—? The germs that make the dead ones come back? We all carry them?

He's been lyin' to us this whole time. The CDC, that was months ago.

Sometimes, lying ain't just sayin' something. It's not sayin' something. Daddy taught me that the night I told him I'd had a good day at school, and then come dinnertime, I let it slip that Ethan, the boy that sat behind me in class, had actually punched me in the belly that day at lunch. He got so mad. He ripped off my shirt. There was a purple blotch on my pale skin. Then he taught me how to punch boys back.

That's what Rick's done. He's hidden a purple blotch from us, and now we should be angry.

Carol steps forward, her silver brows pinched. "And you never said anything?"

I consider my body. I don't feel sick. Not like I did when we thought I was bitten.

Rick lamely asks, "Would it have made a difference?"

Yes, I think, but he already knows that.

Glenn accuses him, "You knew. You knew this whole time."

So, that's why Jim and Shane woke back up. You don't gotta get bit. You just gotta die and come back with enough to be able to bite.

That means even if you jumped off a bridge and all your bones were broken and you died, you would still come back.

My—

My Momma would'a still come back.

"How could I have known for sure, huh? Until we found Jim, I had no proof Jenner was even tellin' the truth. You saw how crazy that mother f—"

Glenn cuts him off. "That is not your call. Okay?"

"When Daryl found out about the walkers in the barn," Lori adds, "He told everyone as soon as he had the chance."

Rick don't care. "Well... I thought it best if people didn't know."

Glenn and Dad look right at me. Like they've both thought the same thing I have. They're the only ones here that know what happened to my Momma. I remember telling Glenn about it at the CDC. Momma. We were outta the city when it happened. It was the night the world ended twice. First when we got the call, and again when our neighbours tried to eat us. It's a lot of people's worst ever night. It's mine.

I won't ever know for sure, but I'd be kidding myself if I thought the rules didn't apply to my Momma.

At least we know that if any of us were to die, the others would make sure we didn't turn. Survivor's honor, or whatever it's called.

The silence goes on for so long that he just gives us one last look over, turns, and walks away. Nobody cares where.

Dad crouches; looks up at me. "You okay, baby?"

"Yeah," My voice wobbles, but I'm telling the truth. "I just... Don't wanna think about it."

Glenn clears his throat. "Well, it looks like we don't have much of a choice about this. We need to set up camp."

As everyone slowly breaks off to do their part, Dad takes my hand and leads me over to his motorcycle. "Got somethin' for ya."

Oh, right. The hearing aid; bits and pieces.

I'd almost forgotten.

"I hope it ain't complicated," I tell him, fiddling with my craggled ear. "Maggie said Herschel don't know about this stuff."

"We'll figure it out." He promises, before squeezing my hand and letting it go. "I ain't even sure if they work."

He opens the saddlebag, taking out a wrinkled plastic bag. He reaches in and pulls out what looks like an unusually shaped piece of skin-colored plastic with a rubber bulb on the end. And two other hearing aids, one brown and one purple, the type I'd recognise.

He stuffs the bag away and tucks some hair behind my good ear, making room to stick the first one in.

"I think it goes like that." He leans in closer, messing around with something on the back of it. "How do I—...?"

Something clicks.

All of a sudden, there are birds in the trees.

My eyes go wide, jaw dropping, gawking out at the forest like I've never seen one before.

A grin sneaks its way onto my face.

"The birds," I muse quietly, taking in the sounds of their distant chirps. "I can hear 'em, Dad."

It's not perfect. It's not as crisp as it was before. I think the batteries are low. But I don't care. It's still one of my favorite sounds.

He's smiling faintly up at me. "Good."

"Dad, your voice!"

"My voice?"

"I forgot what it's s'posed to sound like," I giggle. "It's so loud. And annoying."

He snorts, giving my butt a smack for being silly. "Well now when ya tire of my naggin', you can just pull that thing out."

As quickly as it had come to life, it makes a crackling noise, a sudden beep, and then there are no more birds.

I pluck the aid out my ear, giving it a bittersweet look. It didn't last forever, but it was nice while it did.

He mumbles something; then, louder, "We'll find some more batteries soon. Sorry, baby."

"Don't be sorry." I say. "It was perfect."

After packing them back into the saddlebag, we leave to collect firewood together. I imagine the sounds of the birds around us.

Night comes. We can't stop it.

I pretend we're camping.

We're not stranded. No, we just decided to go on a camping trip together because we thought it would be fun. That's why we're all huddled around a campfire in the dark, instead of sleeping in our beds at the farm. I'm curled up against Dad's stomach, which is better than a bed, I think. Beth's cuddled into her Dad's side, too, staring into the flames while Maggie and Glenn whisper to each other beside them.

I wish we had a deck of cards. I wish any of us would wanna play.

We got nothing but a wall of stone to protect us from the forest on the other side, but I pretend that away, too.

I just focus on the sound of an owl hooting somewhere off in the trees. I bet it ain't scared. Owls; they know the night.

Tomorrow, we're gonna have cheap steak and ketchup for breakfast, and then Merle's gonna let me sit on his shoulders just like always.

"We're not safe with him," Carol suddenly mutters, and that's not something I can pretend away. I'm back here, now, and we're stranded. No steak. No ketchup. No Merle. "Keeping something like that from us. Why do we need him? He's just gonna pull us all down."

Maybe I don't wanna be camping, anyway. It's good enough right here, surrounded by the people I care about.

"Nah." Dad's voice is a rumble in my lower back. "Rick's done alright by me and mine."

I cuddle further into him, shuddering lightly as he rubs my cold arms. His leather vest don't make a great blanket.

"You're his henchman." She reminds him. "And I'm a burden."

He scoffs. "And Harley?"

"You both deserve better," She says softly, her face pensive in the orange light.

It don't matter what we deserve, I told Shane when he said the same thing.

Unamused, Dad pries, "What do you want?"

"A man of honor."

"Rick has honor."

They leave it at that. I think they wish we had a deck of cards, too.

The owl hoots again.

Then, a branch breaks.

CRACK.

I straighten.

"What was that?" Beth murmurs worriedly. "Was it a walker?"

We all stare off into the dark, ready to fight whatever might come out of it.

"Could be anythin'," Dad mumbles as he stands, readying his bow. "Could be a racoon. Could be a possum. Could be the Easter bunny."

Carol hugs herself. "We need to leave. I mean, what are we waiting for?"

"Which way?" Glenn asks.

Maggie points at the thin trees behind T-Dog. "It came from over there."

"That's back from where we came."

"Yeah."

"The last thing we need is for everyone to be running off in the dark." Rick scolds us, reminding us he's here. The light from the fire washes him in flame, the dried blood on his forehead glistening with sweat. "We don't have the vehicles. No one's travelling on foot."

"Don't panic," Herschel soothes us all calmly, still clutching his shotgun.

Maggie argues, "I'm— I'm not sittin' here, waitin' for another herd to blow through. We need to move. Now."

"No one is goin' anywhere," Rick snarls.

"Do something!"

"I am doin' somethin'!" He retorts. If he really was that rubber band, this is the part where he would snap in two. "I am keepin' this group together. Alive! I've been doing that all along, no matter what. I didn't ask for this. I shot my best friend for you people, for Christ's sakes! For you Daryl, and you, Harley. I was the one that took care of Jim. Me! Everything! Everything has been on me!"

I know I said we were supposed to be angry with him. But, actually, I think we're just scared.

Lori's holding Carl's head to her chest. Dad stands in front of me, as if he doesn't want me to see. T-Dog, Glenn, Maggie; all with their mouths sealed shut, not sure where to look, or what to say. Is this really the same Rick that comforted me at dinner?

"Maybe you people are better off without me." He shrugs, taunting us. "Sure. Go ahead."

I've never had to be a leader before. I did have to kill Shane, but Rick's done so much more for us. I'm not better off without him.

"I say there's a place for us out there, but maybe—" He's just rambling, now. "Maybe it's just another pipe dream. Maybe I'm— Maybe I'm fooling myself again. I'm just as much a sucker as Shane was. But, hey, why don't you go find out yourself?"

He sweeps his hand behind him, presenting us with the forest.

"Huh? Send me a postcard."

I can't hear the owl anymore. I think it flew away.

"Go on. There's the door. You think you can do better? Let's see how far you get."

I pull the leather of Dad's vest up to my face, shyly peeping over the top of it; breathing shakily. I don't want to see how far I can get. I want to stay right here with my people, whether we're starving or not; freezing or not. I think everyone else does, too.

Or at the very least, they want to stay here where there's a warm fire and guns.

"No takers?" He lilts. "Fine. But get one thing straight. If you're staying—"

He pins every single one of us with a look.

"— This isn't a democracy, anymore."

That word Dale used. The one that means things is fair.

Then he sits right back down where he was before, like he didn't just threaten to abandon us all.

Slowly, everyone else sits back down too, because there's nothing else to do. We all heard him. We can't leave. When Dad settles in behind me again, I squirrel into his chest, his arms wrapping around me. There's no sound except for the branches crackling in the fire and the heartbeat beneath his shirt. I don't know where we go from here. But I do know Dad will keep me safe, and Rick will keep the group safe. He's worked himself raw and bloody to make sure we survive. The fish fry, the CDC, the highway, Shane, the fall of the farm. All of it.

We didn't survive all that bullshit just to fall apart now. There's still something out there for us.

We just have to find it.

Author's Notes.

I sincerely hope you enjoyed 😊

I'm sad to see the farm go, but we had a nice time while we were there.

Please leave a comment! I'm anxious to hear from you all after so long :)

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