#you can kinda tell its old with how i draw gabe

[mipexch]

gabv1 i dont remember posting

[yulmoldauer]

its better not to say such things out loud (Tyson Jost/OC): Chapter One

part 2

Story summary: Mason Wright was recently traded and because an Av. Sometimes a fresh start with a new team across the country is what a guy needs, right? It seems to work out, going to a place where no one truly knows you. That is, until someone finds out what you’re desperately trying to hide.

Chapter 1

Summary: Mason’s had a rough game, to put it simply. It was never the best idea to get into a fight with someone bigger than you. They won even with him taking a five-minute major for fighting halfway through the third period. The team goes out to celebrate his 23rd birthday post-win and Tyson takes care of getting him home and to sleep safely.

Warnings: None, I believe! Just some drinking mentioned and there’s a drunk character if that makes you uncomfortable. There’s also a slur against lgbt people used.

Words: 1,968

Notes: The title is from The Stigma (Boys Don’t Cry) by As It Is. This is the thing with the LGBT main character that I’ve had a few different people tell me they’d be interested in :) I’m having a lot of fun writing and plotting this so far, so let me know if you enjoy!

There were perks to being smaller than most other people in the league. Being an extremely fast and skilled defenseman was one of them.

Being outmatched in every possible articulation, being compared to a chihuahua yapping at a pitbull, everything like that. Which is how he ended up in the penalty box for five fucking minutes, the asshole in the box next to him chirping him the entire time, it seemed like.

“What are you, a fag?”

That was what Mason heard fly by him, aimed at Jost who wouldn’t get into a fight to draw a penalty. Mason knew for a fact that’s what the guy was trying to do. He still took the bait when Tyson didn’t.

Mason was smaller than nearly every player he knew. Watching him get into a fight was exciting yet painful at the same time for anyone with a brain. The other guy was at least six-foot compared to the five-foot-eight Mason. To say it was outmatched…

Mason was going to be lucky if he didn’t come out of this with some scrapes and bruises. A broken nose was pretty likely as well, once he thought about it.

But hearing that word ignited something in him that overtook the reasoning section of his brain and both of them were dropping gloves. Sure, he’d definitely have a black eye tomorrow, but he’d gotten a few good licks in as well.

They still won the game, which was nice.

“Dude, you gotta at least get into it with guys in your weight class.”

“You’re funny, Landeskog. Whole fucking league is out of my weight class,” Mason huffed as he stripped his padding off of his lean torso.

“Yeah, kinda the point,” Zadorov shrugged. “Not your fault you’re smaller, just the way it is.”

“I get it, I’m short,” he ran a hand through his wavy helmet hair and reached down to unlace his skates. “Z, you can fight for me, then. I’ll run my mouth and you can do all the hitting.”

“With you? Don’t take it, man, Wright can go on and on for hours,” Tyson chirped from across the room. That earned him a glove chucked at his face.

“Fuck y’all. I don’t even have a good comeback.”

“Because it’s true!”

Okay, maybe it was true. Mason was just a talker, it’s how it was.

Tyson gave him endless shit about it, but really he didn’t mind. He actually enjoyed just being able to turn his brain off and absorb whatever stuck from what Mason was going on about. Usually it didn’t even matter--ranting about how a show got robbed of some award that doesn’t even matter, spewing information about whatever book he was reading, going off about whatever asshole did something stupid during his day-- Tyson would just let him go until he ran out of steam. Conversations were nice, too, when he was in just a talkative mood as well.

Mason did know how to shut up, though. Sometimes. (Hint: that’s what made him the favorite out of the Wright/Zadorov best friend duo. He could be quieter than Z. They’ve threatened to separate the two on multiple occasions, though.)

“What’d that guy even do to rile you up? You looked pissed,” Nate broke Mason out of his train of thought.

“Just called someone something stupid. I’m not gonna repeat it.”

“He called me a fag because I wouldn’t take the bait for the penalty,” Tyson said soon after. “He’s just a fucking moron because he got a longer penalty than any of us.”

There was an uncomfortable moment as that sunk in, then a few “what the fuck” or “that’s gross” phrases before people moved on to heading to the showers.

Mason was about to sneak away when Tyson called out his name.

“Hey, I wanted to catch you before you hit the shower. You got a second?”

“Yeah, sure. I just have to do some pt kind of stuff before I shower. What’s up?” he offered with a friendly smile.

“I just wanted to thank you for sticking up for me. You definitely didn’t have to, but calling him on it drew a ton of attention to it. I think it’s really important to start weeding that shit out of the sport, y’know?”

“Yeah,” Mason smiled. “I--thanks, man. That means a lot to me.”

“‘Course,” Tyson gave a nod. “And you know if you were, like… y’know, gay or… anything, really, I wouldn’t care. And neither would anyone else on the team. It’d totally be okay.”

Mason wanted to give him a reassuring “I know” but couldn’t. Hockey was definitely not the environment known for welcoming lgbt kids and turning them into well-adjusted, accepted adults.

“Thanks,” Mason murmured. “Really, that means a lot.”

“Of course,” Tyson breathed, like he was getting a huge weight off his chest. “Um, yeah. I’ll let you go do your physical therapy stuff now. I’ll see you at the bar after everything’s done here?”

“Yeah, I’m not gonna ditch you for my birthday, idiot.”

With an excited smile, Tyson turned and headed in the opposite direction.

Once he reached an area to chill out while waiting for the showers to clear out, Mason sighed, plopping into a chair and resting his head in his hands.

Obviously he knew why Tyson brought up starting to call out homophobia and other bigoted shit they were all used to just overlooking. But why did he bring up the whole ‘we’d accept you no matter what’ thing?

The thought of ‘he was very sensitive to a slur so maybe he’s gay’ never crossed Mason’s mind. That would simply be too easy and rational.

Did Tyson know he was different? What exactly did Tyson know? There was no way Tyson would out him, but still. Trusting people to keep a secret was hard. It was just easier to bottle everything up.

God, he needed to figure this out.

Maybe he’d get drunk enough tonight to just forget for a little while. He didn’t get drunk or even drink all that often, he could let go every now and then.

At the beginning of the night, Gabe took his keys, promising that he’d give them to whoever would be driving Mason home. They all knew for a fact Mason wouldn’t drive drunk, it wasn’t even in the realm of possibilities. Honestly, they were more worried about the newly twenty-three-year-old losing them or putting them somewhere so he’d ‘remember where they are later’, which was proven ineffective at the last gathering Gabe threw.

“If you can’t figure out where the stupid keys are, he can come get them in the morning or I can drop them off to him or something,” Gabe rolled his eyes.

“You’re sure you don’t remember where you put them?” JT triple-checked. He’d been the designated driver for a few of them, including Mason, Tyson, and a couple others who had already gotten out to the car.

Mason shook his head. “I’m not even that drunk,” he insisted.

“Uh-huh. Gabe, just let me know if you find ‘em and we can work something out for him in the morning.”

Twenty minutes later, Gabe sent a picture and “anyone know who these belong to?” in the group chat. It was, without a doubt, Mason’s keys, adorned with a keychain reading “DETROIT” in graffiti lettering. He was from Detroit, and everyone knew that he refused to take that keychain off until it literally fell off for some sentimental reason, most likely.

‘Lol where’d you find it?’ someone texted back.

‘My dishwasher. His wallet was there too’

Mason has still never heard the end of that. No matter how hard he tried to explain that when he put them somewhere, it meant that he wouldn’t lose them or buy something stupid online (last time that happened, he bought a thing to hang on a window so your cat could sit on it and sunbathe. Mason has not owned a cat at any point in his life.) and he’d remember where it was once he sobered up.

Of course he still gets relentless shit for it. He wouldn’t expect any different.

Currently, Mason and Z were arm wrestling over a table in the back of the bar, people beginning to call it quits and going home. And with his pride hurt that he could not beat Z in an arm wrestling match, Tyson stole the other’s keys and wallet from Gabe, saying goodbyes and forcing Mason to as well.

“You are blasted, man.”

“Mmph,” he shrugged and laid his head against the passenger window. “I wanna lay down and sleep.”

“You can when I get you home. Gimmie your seatbelt so I can buckle you in.”

Mason followed the order with a small pout, not drunk enough to the point of incoherence but… definitely a little fucked up. Tyson had done this before: dealing with the mopey friend at the end of the night. Mason was definitely one to get mopey or clingy once they left the main event.

“My face hurts.”

“That checks out, buddy. I’ll get you some ice for it back at your place. What?” Tyson continued to ask when Mason stared out the windshield all angsty.

“Still can’t believe I couldn’t beat Z.”

“That guy could slam most of us through a table, don’t beat yourself up.”

“Can’t. Someone already did.”

“You’re full of jokes, huh?”

Mason just grinned sleepily as they pulled into the apartment complex and Tyson had an arm wrapped around his friend to keep him steady. Getting a drunk person to go to bed was usually one of the hardest parts of the night.

“Would you just--”

“I got it,” Mason huffed, fumbling with his keys near the lock of the door.

“Dude.”

“Shut up, you’re gonna wake up my neighbors,” he grumbled, finally getting the door open with a triumphant “see? I’m an adult.”

“I see. Go be an adult and get ready to go to bed,” Tyson rolled his eyes, taking the keys out of the door and locking it behind them.

“I don’t wanna sleep,” he replied quickly.

“You’re drunk, what do you mean you don’t want to sleep?”

“Not tired,” he flopped down on the couch.

“At least get out of your clothes. That way if you fall asleep it’s in pajamas.”

Mason was sprawled out, already clicking through Netflix.

“Fine, I will go get you pajamas. Here,” Tyson pressed a cold compress to a bruise on his face and headed to the bedroom.

“Thanks for driving me,” he heard from the other room.

“‘Course,” Tyson called back. “Here, put these on,” he tossed the clothes at Mason.

“Are you staying here? You can take the guest room, if you want.”

“Sure. Probably easier than trying to get home this late,” Tyson shrugged and headed for the kitchen. As he heard the rustling around of what he assumed was his friend changing, Tyson got a glass of water and painkillers for when Mason woke up.

“I can drive you home tomorrow,” Mason slurred even more heavily as he began getting more tired. He’d managed to get his jeans off and a pair of shorts on before moving onto the shirt. He’d just pulled his shirt off when Tyson walked back in the room with the water.

“Woah,” he said quietly, stopping quickly.

For whatever reason, he’d never realized that he had never seen his teammate and friend shirtless. That was weird, especially when you played sports together for a living. He assumed it was due to the faded scars along his chest, almost in a u-shape under each pec.

He didn’t even know what kind of injury would cause that kind of surgery.

“When did you get surgery?”

Fuck was all that ran through Mason’s head.

[winchesters-imagine]

Infected - Pt 5

Imagine you and Ellie meeting a strange man called David.

Warnings: swearing, david, violence Word Count: 5.8k Estimated Reading Time: 20 minutes

___________________________________________________ A/N: Wow, I have neglected this series. I think there’ll be one more part to this, before I move on. Maybe do a different game? Maybe we’ll revisit when TLOU part II comes out? Let me know! Feedback is gold!

___________________________________________________

A small, abandoned town is what you found with Ellie. You found an empty frozen yogurt store in a mall and with high concerns for Joel, you all rode in. It was cold, and maybe not ideally hygienic, but it had to do. You had fished in your bag for something to keep your wrist in place - it wasn’t a huge injury, just a little sore, and would feel better in a few days.

You hopped off of your horse as soon as you saw what looked like a stretcher tucked away in the corner of the frozen yogurt shop, which you pulled out and set next to Callus. Ellie slides off as you clutch Joel’s jacket, sliding your hands under his arms to help him off, using all the muscles you can as you strain against his weight. Ellie helps his legs gently away from Callus and helps you put him on the stretcher. 

There had been a heavy snow storm over the past day, and you were all left cold and desperate. Your fingers are so cold that you can barely grip your gun, and Dean shivering into your shoulder concerns you. 

You help Dean into a chair, taking off your jacket and throwing it over his shoulders. He begins to protest, but you put a finger to his lips before he could and rush over to join Ellie in the search for something, anything. 

“Shit! C’mon, gimme something...” You hear her as draws open harshly and proceed to slam shut. “Fuck!” You heart beats a million miles a minute as you swing open cupboards and drawers before you find a stash of fabric in the corner of a cupboard, only about the size of your palm.

Both of you rush back at the same time, having found something useful. Your fabric is too small for Joel’s wound, so Ellie pulls out her old shirt from her bag to use with the duct tape that she found. 

“Okay, we’re gonna put you on your side,” You say to Joel, nodding to Ellie as you carefully roll Joel over with your good hand. Ellie lifts up his shirt and you both stare at his wound in shock, before snapping out of it. There’s much more blood than you’re used to, and as Ellie seems to be very much in control, you turn to Joel.

His breathing is shallow, he’s shivering, and when you put a hand to his forehead, he seems ice cold. “Now, what do we do?” Ellie breathes out harshly while rolling Joel back over after taping her old shirt over the hole in Joel’s side. 

“I’ll go out to find something to stitch him up with - there’s gotta be a first aid kit around somewhere,” You say, passing Ellie the white fabric you found earlier for Dean’s shoulder.

“With a broken wrist?” She shoves it back.  “I don’t want you to go! It’s not broken!” You insist. 

“This place is abandoned. Probably only a few infected around. Watch Joel. Keep him alive. I’ll find the stuff. Okay?” Ellie offers.

You huff a cloud of breath, not too sure. But then again, she was fine in the game, right? 

“Just, come back in one piece, okay?” You say softly as she stands up, swiping a padlock and key from the counter. 

“I’ll be back in a flash,” She replies lightly, lifting up the garage-like door and lowering it slowly. You hear her lock it from the outside and sigh.

Feeling a headache coming on, you take your hair out of its ponytail as you peel away Dean’s shirt from his wound. 

“Took your time,” He teases.  “Sorry, De. Is the bullet still in your shoulder?” You ask. “No, I think I dug it out on the road.” “Oh my god.” You grab the tape and place a strip over the fabric on top of the wound, looking up at Dean afterwards. 

“So, what’cha gonna do with a ganked wrist?” He asks playfully. “You’re talkin’, Winchester. How’s the knee?” “I was bein’ dramatic. It feels okay now.” Some light has returned to his eyes, and you feel guilty that the same can’t be said about the man on the floor.

You move to check on Joel, worriedly looking down at him. 

“Are you holding up okay?” You ask softly. Joel grunts softly. “Sure,” His voice is barely above a whisper, and tugs at your heart like the moon does the sea.

“Hang in there, Joel,” You pat his shoulder softly before spotting a blanker stashed behind the counter of this store, placing it over him.  You move to straddle Dean’s hips, but you don’t put your weight on him. More like a hover.

“Dean?” “Hm?” He looks up, eyes full of - love? Admiration? Happiness? You wish you were better at identifying people’s emotions. But they sparkle. Dean’s eyes always sparkle. You drop your voice and lean forwards so that only he can hear you. “Later in the game, something happens. I don’t think I can tell you, but you and Joel have to find a way around it. Maybe that’s when we can call Gabe. I miss Sam, the Bunker, my bed...” You begin to complain, but cut yourself off. “I’m not gonna let anything happen to you, Y/N. Okay? The next time I see Gabe, I’m gonna kick his ass all the way to Kentucky. Trust me on that.”

I’m not worried about myself...

You smile, heart pounding and losing yourself in his eyes. So much so that you don’t realise you’re going to peck his forehead until you did. Dean Winchester, the man you could always count on as he could on you. You gently pull him in for an embrace, staying there for a few moments.

You spend the next few minutes, hours? Pacing up and down, chewing your lip and almost biting your nails. Your heart dropped when you heard bursts of gunshots, not knowing whether or not Ellie made it out alive. Being trapped in this store with nowhere to go sure gives you a lot of thinking time. 

“Y/N, stop worrying. She’ll be back, she’s a tough kid.” Dean offers, cradling his shoulder to keep it as still as possible. You look over at him in worry, absolutely certain that you’ve just heard screeches of Infected in the distance. Obviously, Dean can see the panic on your face every time. “Seriously. She’s small and fast, and you can’t move your wrist more than twenty degrees in any direction.” You aren’t sure whether he’s reassuring you or digging himself a metaphorical hole. 

Until you hear something hacking at the metal padlock on the door. Callus is irritated as usual, whinnying loudly. You rush over to him to calm him down, shushing and stroking his nose.

“Hey! I hear the fuckin’ horse over here!” 

Shit.

“Help me get this door open!” “Yeah, yeah, we’ll get the door open. You guys keep searchin’. I don’t wanna get ambushed.”

The noise resumes and you can see the metal door shaking as the hunters throw all of their strength at the little lock. You exchange a worried look with Dean, who tries to get up, but you push his good shoulder down gently to keep him there. Ellie will take them out, but in the meantime you tie up your hair and check that your guns are loaded.

“Yeah, I think it’s about it give! Keep at it!” 

Your heart drops as you bite your lip, testing your grip on the pistol. You support your bad wrist as you aim your gun on the door, ready for anything. Some muffled grunts are heard, before silence. You hold your breath as you hear some fumbling at the lock. “Ellie?” “Yeah! It’s-”

The wshh of bullets knock against the metal of the door while the hunters yell at each other about Ellie and the door, “Down there! By the door, we got her pinned down! Finish her!” followed by gunshots. Another hunter? How many were around here? 

“Fuck you!” You hear Ellie yell back. More bullets are sent flying. You cross your fingers that she’ll make it.

More gunshots and yells ring out, and you stand ready by the door to help her in. Dean seems to sit up straighter in his seat, and you wait for the last shot. 

It comes in about ten minutes, followed by, “If anyone’s still alive, don’t even think about surprising me! You’ll end up like your friends, you hear me?” 

And a weight was lifted off of your shoulders when you hear the padlock click, and see the door being lifted. You hold it with one hand so that she can get through, before dropping the cold metal to the floor. 

You hugged Ellie as soon as she stood up, which she understandably resisted; her thoughts were only of Joel. 

“Are you okay? Did they shoot you?” You ask, kneeling down next to Joel with her.  “No. Fucking pharmacy had an empty kit lying there,” She pulls off Joel’s blanket with shaky hands, “I jumped into a military helicopter to find this,” She pulls out a full first aid kit from her backpack.  “Nice going, Ellie,” You assure her. “Do you know how to stitch a wound?” 

She thinks for a moment. “I’ve done this before, so I’m kinda an expert... ish,” She replies. “Good thing we do it for a living, then,” Dean mumbles, having been bleeding like Joel since the university. Though, not the same volume; the adrenaline wearing off now. “I’m going to stitch Dean’s shoulder real fast with this needle - just watch and, I guess, learn,” You say, pulling up a knocked down stool with your good hand.

You pull Dean’s shirt down, revealing the damage again. Working quickly, you show Ellie how to disinfect, and stitch it properly, finishing with a dressing. Dean lends you a hand in place of your injured wrist, holding the thread where it needs to be to tie knots, and things like that. She notes, and you watch her pack, stitch and dress Joel’s wound as you give pointers while she does.

Once that was done, she pulled the blanket back around his shivering figure, tying it securely around him with a piece of rope she picked up on her outing, which she cut with her knife. 

Ellie seems relieved, falling back onto her heels as she relaxes a little. “Where do we go from here? Other than just, out of here?” She wonders aloud.  “My vote is to find a village or town nearby - the houses are gonna be abandoned, and if we’re lucky we can find supplies. Take one of their basements as shelter,” You suggest. 

                                                            *

The thick blanket of snow crunches beneath your feet as you lock another one of your arrows into your bow. “I’m just sayin’ Ellie, Dean will look after him. He’s almost healed anyway - the only reason we’re both out here is for some girl talk,” You say, focused on making sure the bow string is still surviving.

“He’d better. Otherwise he’d have me to answer- holy shit, food!,” Ellie says, leading Callus through the woods. She’s just spotted a rabbit, and you could tell that she was not going to give up this opportunity. “Your move,” You say. Ellie slides an arrow onto her bow, slowly pulling it back. The tip of her tongue peeks out of her mouth as she ever so gently, carefully, increased the tension. And then she released it.

The arrow flew straight through the neck of the rabbit.

“You’re a good shot!” You smile. Ellie gets up and starts running to fetch it. You catch up and see her frown after picking up the result of your hunt.  “Oh,” She sighs. “This won't last very long.”

You scan the surrounding area and can barely contain an excited gasp, spotting a deer about ten feet to your left. Ellie follows your gaze and also grins. You leave Callus tied to a tree and follow the deer, taking it in turns to send arrows in its direction. However, time after time, the deer would spook and keep running. It was beginning to get tiring as you both chase it through the woods, trying to be quick but also quiet. 

After many curses from both you and Ellie, you turn the corner and see down the bottom of a hill, an old mining camp. The wooden cabin was huge and falling apart - holes in the roof and walls making it look drab and abandoned. The blood stains in the snow go through the cabin, and you exchange looks with Ellie. 

“Oh, great,” She rolls her eyes, jumping down to find the deer. You follow, treading cautiously as you gaze around the rotting wood, damp with snow. On the inside, the entire roof has collapsed in, and the winter wind makes the fragile foundations creak.  “Everything's cool. This place is not creepy at all,” Ellie says sarcastically. “Trust me, I’ve seen worse,” You joke lightly. Ellie doesn’t acknowledge the joke because she’s spotted the deer, dead on the other side of the cabin.  “Oh.” She says, surprised that after all this running, it’s finally dead. She goes to check on it, but you’re put on alert when you hear the soft crunch of leaves beneath somebody’s foot. 

You raise your own weapon, hunter mode kicking in.

“Who's there? Come out!” You make your voice as tough as you can, despite straining against all of the tension you’re putting into the bow. Probably not supposed to do that, but with your heartbeat picking up you hardly care.

Two men appear from behind the trees. Well, one man. A boy who looks about nineteen is by his side. 

The man looks rough, maybe in his mid-to-late 40′s, with longer hair and a beard. You shiver, realising that if it were a little longer, he’d have the same hair as Sam. The boy just looks ...young. Just following the leader.

“Hello...we just want to talk,” He walks with his hands up, a rifle strapped to his back and gravelly undertones to his voice.  “Any sudden moves and I put one right between your eyes,” You threaten. “Ditto for buddy boy over there. What do you want?” You switch between the two of them with your bow, hands flying up whenever it’s pointed at them. You mutter under your breath to Ellie, “Stay behind me.” She does.

“Um, name's David, this here's my friend James.” You’re already disliking his story. “We're from a larger group - women, children. We're all very, very hungry.” You know that this guy is bad. But, you can’t remember why.

“So am I - women and children - all very hungry too,” You lie, breathing deeply to keep your cool. “Well maybe we could, ah, trade you for some of that meat there,” David tries to negotiate. “ What do you need? Weapons, ammo, clothes-” “Medicine! Do you have any antibiotics?” Ellie interrupts. You cringe slightly. “We do. Back at the camp. You're welcome to follow us-”

 “We’re not following you anywhere. Buddy boy can go get it. He comes back with what we need, the deer is all yours. Anyone else shows up-” You scowl, raising the bow a little higher, fingers beginning to ache. “-You put one right between my eyes.” “That's right.”

David turns to the boy. “Two bottles of penicillin and a syringe. Make it fast. Go on.” He turns and runs.  

“She'll take that rifle,” You say, motioning to Ellie.  “Of course.” His easy compliance doesn’t sit well with you. It’s making you nervous. Years of weeding out disguised vamps gave you good practice in identifying the creeps. He steps forward and places it on the ground in front of you.

“Back up,” You let Ellie take the rifle, so that she can hold him at gunpoint as you rest your aching shoulders.  There’s an awkward silence. Uneasy glances shared between you and Ellie, hands rubbed together to warm up. “He's probably gonna be awhile.” Of course David is the one to break the silence. “You, ah, mind if we take some shelter from the cold?”

You ponder for a moment, before shivering yourself. “Bring the deer with us,” You say, and you all end up in a smaller cabin that was probably the entrance for the old miners. David lets go of the deer. You gather some sticks and wood lying around before building them up in the middle of the floor. Ellie watches David as he stares at you making the fire. “Yeah, thanks for the help tough guy,” You mumble, searching for a hard rock. You pick one up with a relatively sharp edge in the corner of your cabin. You pull out your knife and drag the rock across the spine several times until you produced sparks. Blowing on the glowing wood ever so slightly, the fire grows.

“You know you two really shouldn't be out here all by yourselves,” David says, a slight edge to his voice as he warms his hands by the fire. Following your lead, Ellie does the same. “Don’t work well with anyone else,” You shrug. David glances over Ellie.  “I see. What’s your relationship? Sister, in-law, daughter?”  You scoff. “Like that’s any of your business.” “What’s your name?” “Why?” “Look, I understand it's not easy to trust a couple of strangers.” David tries to be empathetic. “Whoever's hurt, you, especially the girl, clearly care about them,” You swallow thickly. “I'm sure it's gonna be just fine.”

 “We'll see,” Ellie says.

As always, you hear it before you see it. The ear-grinding squeal, infused with clicks and painful-sounding cries. Everyone is on their feet in seconds, when a clicker enters the house. All of your joints lock up and you stop breathing. It lingers in the doorway for one, two, three seconds before releasing a stomach churning cry and charging. Straight for Ellie.

As if somebody had slapped you, your arm flies for your bow and arrow, successfully pulling out the bow, but the arrow gets caught on the way out of your bag. “No!”

Flashes of light go off in front of you, accompanied by bangs. David shoots it down with a pistol, again and again in the head. You jaw falls open.

“You had another gun?” Ellie asks, face falling.  “Sorry,” David shrugs. God, just the sight of him makes you feel sick. He’s a liar, and you can’t trust him. 

But more infected are on the way, and the more guns, the better. David peers out of the doorway.

“Okay, I'd really like my rifle back now.” David says. “No, you have your pistol,” Ellie argues. “I hope you know how to use that thing.”  Ellie shares a knowing look with you,“I've had some practice.”

You shut the heavy metal door to the house and throw a nearby tarp onto the huge deer. You pull out your bow again and ready an arrow. You frown at the very obvious blood trail to the deer, before remembering that the clickers are blind! Great.

“We have to keep them out,” You say, half to yourself. “Let's hope they don't find him. Cover the windows,” David instructs, and you roll your eyes.

Standing near the half boarded up windows, you peer out, doing the best you can to shoot the incoming clickers with your bow. It clunks against the wood, and you sigh in frustration. At least Ellie’s getting some good shots in, you can see the corpses collapse and slide the rest of the way down the hill. 

“You weren't kidding. You're a better shot with that thing than I am,” David comments. You cannot for the life of you control your distaste for this man.

“Gimme a hand with this,” He says to you. Reluctantly, you help him shove some heavy metal cabinet in front of some windows, straining and gritting your teeth due to the weight. You slump against the hard wall of it when you were done, panting heavily. 

Until a high pitched squeal rips through the air right next to your ear, and you get pulled into the wall by the window - a clicker leaned in, throwing an arm around your shoulder and chest. You scream, its mangled features too close up. All of the fungus is leaking out of its face, and you’re petrified. 

David pushes your head out the way and you hear a loud gunshot. You’re pushed away before you see the lifeless body slump over the wall. You rub the part of your neck that it was so close to biting.

“Holy shit,” You and Ellie say together. “You okay?” She asks. You nod, still slightly dazed before you ready your bow to start shooting again. But you’re almost out of arrows.

Every shot you take goes straight through the head. You’re so focused on your aim, so grateful for everything that Dean has taught you, that you freeze when you feel that you’ve only got three arrows left. Gritting your teeth, you put your bow away and just feel that there’s something in your pocket. You reach in, fingers closing around a slim metal object. You pull out your pocket knife, almost screaming in happiness. 

Didn’t you leave that in the Bunker?

“Oh lord, there's a whole lot of 'em comin' at us,” David’s voice pulls you back. Can you trust him after he saved you?

You peer between the wooden planks on one window and view about twenty to thirty clickers approaching. “Screw it. We're gettin' outta this room!” David yells, looking for an exit and settling on an old boarded up door. With almost impressive strength. “Alright, ladies. This way.” 

You both follow him through the fragile passages, a couple of infected smashing through the windows that you quickly push Ellie away from. “Fucking infected,” You hear her mutter. You sprint up two flights of stairs and David pauses, grabbing Ellie and then you by the upper arm and pulling you forward. “I'll block their path. Cover the stairs!” 

You don’t have any ammo to help, so you rush next to David and push the old metal shelves across the doorway. You exhale sharply. “Follow me. Through here,” David rams his shoulder into another pair of metal doors and they fly open. 

“Do you know where you're going?” You ask, knife clutched tightly in your hand.  “I've never set foot in this place.”  “Oh! Great,” Ellie says sarcastically.

You enter a new room full of metal catwalks and broken machinery. Your breath is still coming out in puffy clouds of smoke.  “It's clear. This way.” You run through the maze of machinery and to a huge flight of stairs climbing the wall to get to higher ground.  “How you holdin' up?” You hear him say to Ellie.  “You don't need to worry about me.” She says. You suppress a smile. A beat. “Alright. Stay close.”

You’re running across the metal catwalk next to Ellie, hopping over a barricade that reaches mid-thigh. But the metal creaks beneath your feet, and you’re falling, arms flailing above you. To your surprise, your fingers catch on the edge of the catwalk.

“Oh shit!” Ellie yells.

You look down and see her on her back on the floor. “Shit,” You mutter, trying to pull yourself up. Seeing your struggle, David grabs your arms and yanks you up with surprising strength. 

“Hey, kid - you alright?” David calls. You look behind you with a gasp, seeing two clickers approaching. “I'm fine...” Ellie sits up, shaking the haze from her head.

David pushes you lightly in front of him, trying to get you to run. “More clickers. Get outta there!” He calls down.

You both take off, swerving around corners. You flinch at the sound of David’s gunshots, which surprised you. You haven’t flinched like that since you first started hunting. After a few corners, David grabs your elbow and pulls you to the floor. You gasp in surprise before realising that the clickers up ahead are few and far between. Easy to knife. 

You crouch and shuffle forwards, to a clicker leaning forwards and panting heavily. Taking a deep breath, you straighten up and leap onto it, shoving the knife into its face, neck, where the eyes would be, anywhere you could without getting bit. It collapsed underneath you and you fall on your feet, panting heavily and wiping the blood off of your hands.

“Didn’t know you had it in ya, kid,” David claps you on the shoulder as you breathe deeply. First time stabbing a clicker. You scan your hands and wrists for bites and grin to yourself when you find nothing.# “She’s climbing up there, let’s go,” He gives you a tug, spotting Ellie climbing up a yellow ladder tucked away.  Upon arriving, you see a clicker turn to a wall, and neither you or David hesitate to shoot. One of your arrows and several of his bullets take it down, and Ellie appears around the corner.

“Oh! There you are,” Ellie says. You pat her shoulder as reassurance, glad you’re here to watch out for her.

“C'mon - door's this way. There, look. That ladder could work.” David says, to himself or you, you aren’t sure.

You climb the ladder second, behind Ellie. David follows. You run through another doorway and jog through a rickety bridge until you come into an open room.

“Alright, let’s see what we’ve got,” You take a look around, up the stairs and onto a ledge, where two corpses lay. “Geez. Looks like someone already fought those things and lost,” Ellie’s voice creeps up behind you. You swallow back a horrible feeling rising in your chest. “Ah, Lord,” David appears. “I've been lookin' for these boys. Doesn't matter. Grab their gear. I'm gonna look for an exit. Keep your eyes open for anything we can use!” 

You find more arrows for your bow, as well as a rifle strapped to the back of one of them. Odd. If they were being attacked by these things, why was the weapon still strapped to their back? Maybe they were set up?

Christ, Y/N. That’s so stupid. Focus, you think.

You pick up tin bombs, throw pistol bullets in Ellie’s direction, and find a lighter with some bottles.

“See anything?” You shout. “It's a dead end. How on earth did they use this building?” David responds. “So what do we do?” Ellie asks you, eyes glinting with fear.  “We fight them off. Stay put,” You suggest, running a hand down your face. “Is there any other choice?” She asks. “We die. Get ready.” David strides past.

Haunting squeals almost make the building shake. You load the rifle and hold it still, not hearing what David and Ellie are yelling at each other. Sure, you’ve dealt with vampires, shifters, werewolves. Nothing compares to this, seeing the undead crawl from the roof into the room. 

Any of them where you can get a clear shot, you take it. Shouts between all of you communicate where you are and how many are around. 

“Behind you!” Ellie yells, staring at you with wide eyes. You bring the rifle around without looking, swinging it across your body until it comes into contact with what you identify as a runner. You shove it back with the gun and shoot exactly three bullets into its torso. Thumbs up to Ellie before you continue shooting the rest.

“How many of these things are there?” Ellie shouts, fighting the recoil of the rifle.

“I have no idea. Just keep at it!” David is scoring plenty of headshots, taking infected down in a few bullets. A strangled, deep cry draws your attention to the abandoned elevator. 

“It’s a bloater!” You and Ellie yell at each other. “A what?!” David is clearly out of the loop.

“One of those big fucking guys,” Ellie takes aim with her bow as you stuff your bow into your bag, pouring some alcohol into a bottle with a rag, et voilà! A Molotov cocktail. 

You light it and quickly throw it at the bloater. It screams and flails, and claws at thin air in pure rage. In your experience, fire was the best weapon you have against these guys. You make two more of them, throwing them with Ellie and David shooting in between. Before long, the big ugly lump fell forwards in a charred heap. You lean forwards on your knees, catching your breath. Dean’s not gonna believe this. 

“You know, I think we did it,” You only barely register David’s cheerful comment. 

“Like we killed all of 'em?” Ellie’s still recovering, too. When you get out of here you just want to get back to Dean and Joel, forget about the deer. “Don't sound so disappointed.” “More like disbelief.” “I'll check the bridge.”

Ellie tugs at your arm and you follow her to the bridge.  “Listen,” You say.  “No infected,” Ellie sounds relieved. “What'd I tell ya? Alright. Let's head on back, check on that buck of ours.” David nudges Ellie’s shoulder and sends you a wink. Friendly? Or not? You look away as he returns to your dead fire.

This time, you can relight it with the lighter you found. 

“You two handled yourselves pretty nice back there. Ha, whew, I say we make a pretty good team,” David pokes at the fire as you all crouch to get warm. 

“Psshh. We got lucky,” You scoff. 

“Lucky? No, no...no such thing as luck,” David has a different tone to his voice now, and if you’ve ever been in this situation before with a monster, you know that shit’s about to go down. 

Your hand tightens on the rifle by your side.

“No. You see... I believe that everything happens for a reason.” “Sure,” Ellie says.

“I do. And I can prove it to you. Now, this winter has been especially cruel. A few weeks back, I ah...sent a group of men out - nearby town to look for food,” David says, staring wistfully into the fire. You begin to feel sick to your stomach. “Only a few came back. They said that the others had been, ah, slaughtered by two psycho men. And get this; they’re traveling with a little girl, and a young woman.” You knew it. You shouldn’t have trusted him, and you did. Idiot.

Why didn’t you just run?

“You see? Everything happens for a reason.” You stand up and put him at gunpoint, Ellie shoved behind you.

“Now don't get upset. It's not your fault. You're just protecting your girl,” He says to you. Calmly, too calmly. Your breathing threatens to waver. “James, lower the gun.” You turn your head to see buddy boy aiming right at your head. Ellie lifts her rifle up at him.

“No way, David. I'm not gonna let her go-” You swallow thickly, fingers tightening on the trigger. “Lower the gun.” Why is David so calm? “Now give her the medicine.”

James tosses the parcel to the floor, closer to you and Ellie than them, thank god.

 “The others won't be happy about this,” James says to David. “Yeah, well, that's not your concern.” David is speaking with a business-like edge to his voice, but you can only feel your fight or flight kicking in. Today, it’s flight. Ellie picks up the parcel of medicine as you both make your way to the door, gun held tightly on your shoulder. “Move the fuck out of the way,” You move around James, anxiety in your voice presenting itself as agitation. You make it to the door before David’s last words as you leave. “You won't survive long out there. I can protect you.”

You almost throw up in your mouth. His voice, it’s just- wrong. Too fake.  “No, thanks.” 

You leave with Ellie in tow. Retracing your footsteps through the blistering cold, eyes watering as they’re hit with the icy air. You ignore the slips you occasionally get, only concerned with getting the fuck out of there. 

You pull yourself onto Callus and then Ellie. Making sure that she’s securely holding on, you ride as fast as you can before making it back to base - which, you figured out weren’t just your average houses. It was a lakeside resort, and you were hiding out in one of the cabins.

You make it back through the garage, closing it behind Callus. Entering the basement, you feel a weight lifted off of your shoulders when you see Dean casually sitting against a wall on a worn mattress, humming to himself. Ellie makes a beeline for Joel as you sit next to him, heart still hammering against your chest.

“Hey. You took a while,” Dean looks over at you with a smile. “Yeah, we ran into some infected. Found this though,” You motion towards the rifle on your back, inhaling deeply as you ignore the concern on Dean’s face as his head jerks up to scan you for any injuries, eyes landing on your hastily wiped bloody hands. You instead watch Ellie talking to Joel and injecting him with some penicillin.  “Uh, I’m sorry, what?” You smile. “Relax, tough guy. We’re fine. A bloater even decided to join the party.”

Dean looks as if he’s going to pass out. “Hey. I’m okay. Promise. Fire is a surprisingly good weapon.”

You realise that your hand is tapping your knee uncontrollably in an attempt to shake out your nerves. Dean slowly takes your hand, his warmth calming you slightly even though your breaths come out shaky. “Y/N/N. I know you. What happened? You’re worried.” You turn and see how serious he is as he watches you intently.  “De, I just- we saw a guy,” You drop your voice so that Joel and Ellie can’t hear you. Ellie is beginning to lie down, probably to sleep. “A guy?” Dean’s hand tightens around yours. “Yeah. At first I had mixed feelings but now - he’s a bad guy, Dean. I have this awful feeling that I can’t shake, and I think something bad is gonna happen but I don’t know because I can’t remember!” A tear slides down your cheek, a result of your panicked energy. You did know what happened here, you’re sure of it. So, why can’t you remember?

Dean rubs circles around your knuckles as you speak, and when you finish he throws his good arm around your shoulders and pulls you tightly into him.  “Listen, I know you’re scared. So am I. But Gabe wouldn’t put us through anything where we couldn’t handle ourselves. As soon as my shoulder’s healed properly, I’ll be right there with you.”

You exhale sharply, slightly calmer although not very much. Gabe’s probably wiped all of your knowledge of this situation, all to ramp up the agitation and suspense. You begin to lie down, taking Dean’s good arm with you until you’re both on your side. You shift closer to him for warmth, but also the feeling of safety that he always gives you as you fall asleep.

[pomegranateanarchist]

things about the lightning thief musical