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libsterslobsters · 3 years

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The Wanton Song

Summary: How do you broach the topic of sex with the 90-something super soldier you've found yourself dating? That's the reader's question. Luckily, she and Bucky are no strangers to awkward conversations...

Pairings: Bucky Barnes x fem!enhanced! Reader

(Reader can see bits and pieces of the future in visions and understands all languages)

Warnings: SMUT, tiny bit of angst, lotsa fluff, maybe some past dub!con if you squint

Author's note: Wow... here I am posting smut on the internet. Never thought that would happen. Tmi, but I'm married, so I have a good amount of sex 🙀 and I actually had a great first time, but some people don't, and that's what I tried to represent. That, and CONSENT!!!! Consent is sexy, y'all. Safe, sane and consensual all day every day.

As always, the reader's name isn't stated so that you can read as a self insert, but I've written so much at this point that I refer to the Reader as Violet in my own mind.

*************************************************

Life has been going swimmingly these past few months. Better than ever before in fact, or at the very least, better than in a long time. She’s still a fugitive, living life looking over her shoulder, but now she has a steady job, a steady paycheck, and oh yeah, a steady boyfriend. Those three things have never aligned for her before (especially the last one). Overall, she’s pretty happy. But, because she’s her, there’s still a question niggling at the back of her mind.

The transition from “you’re my only friend” to “we’re together now” went smoothly, helped in part by the fact that Barnes had been at that particular juncture the whole time. From the outside looking in, the only major changes have been the addition of those three simple but very key words and an upping the anti in the cuddles department.

Speaking of cuddles, that’s a very mild term for what’s going on these days. It starts out innocent enough. The usual location is on the couch at one or the other’s apartment. There hadn’t been much distance between them since that first time where they ended up talking more than watching the movie playing from her laptop, but now, the space is nonexistent. As a general rule, within the first ten minutes, her legs somehow end up over his lap or in some way intertwined with is. The intention is always to pay attention to what’s on the screen but, well, when you’re that close, it would be rude not to snuggle up. And, when the other person looks that damn kissable, it would truly be insulting not to take the plunge.

Now, considering the angle, one of them has to lean in. Otherwise, it would be awkward. That generally determines who, somewhere from two to ten minutes later, is on top of who. Of course hands wander, and even though it’s understood that the word “no” can be employed at any time and immediately obeyed (not to mention the copious amounts of “Is this okay”’s being asked), she can’t remember a time either of them have said it.

If she had to attach a term to what comes next, it would be ‘dry humping.’ And then… nothing. It always ends far too soon, leaving her flustered and with her heart racing. At first she thought it was because he simply didn’t want her, but, well, there’s certain physical signs that point to that not being the problem. Her next guess was that he’s simply being respectful. Well, as sweet as that is, she’s ready to get on with it. She’s only human after all, and as such, has needs. Sure, she could take care of them herself, but if she had to guess, he’s experiencing those needs too, and from what she’s heard, it’s more fun to take care of it together.

The only issue: how the hell do you bring something like this up, especially when the person you’re bringing it up with grew up in a much more repressed era than you did? She’s been debating it for the past week, and despite having multiple visions, none of them have given her that key insight into what to do.

Finally, she decides to just say it. They’ve made a point to be honest with each other, and it’s probably best to get it out of the way. They’re adults, after all. They can have this discussion. She’s going to come straight out with it.

“Hey, can I ask you something? It’s kind of personal, and maybe a little uncomfortable.”

“Sure, Doll.” The response is immediate. “Fire away.”

Glancing up to make sure they’re not at a pivotal scene in tonight’s movie (they have a system; at his place, watch something he grew up with, at hers, something made literally anytime after 1945), she spits out the whole sentence in one breathless go. “Are we ever going to have sex?”

It feels like a branding iron where his arm is still wrapped around her shoulder. Still, it’s comforting. At least he’s not moving away.

“I gotta admit, that’s not the question I was expecting. What brought this on?”

She shrugs, carefully keeping her eyes trained on the wall behind his head instead of on him.

“Nothing in particular. Just…” is there a delicate way to put this? “...I think things are going well between us, and sometimes when we’re together… I’ve noticed that there’s a physical response.” She’s really hoping that’ll suffice, because she can’t think of a good way to say “I can feel that you’re hard when you’re on top of me”.

“Oh.”

Apparently, her meaning is indeed clear enough, because he removes his arm from her shoulders. She’s about to apologize (all the while mentally berating herself) when his hand closes over hers.

“I’m sorry about that, Doll. I’ll try to stay calmer.” Wait, that’s not- “It’s just an issue guys have. Don’t think it means you have to do anything that you don’t want to, because I would never-”

“I know you wouldn’t.” Without thinking, she cuts him off. “And I want to.” It feels like she’s sitting in a sauna, she’s so flustered from this conversation. “But only if you do, and I understand if you didn’t-”

“No.” It’s abrupt, cutting her off. A definite answer that leaves no room for questioning. “No, I do. I just-” He clears his throat. “-I didn’t want to bring it up, in case we weren’t on the same page. “ This seems to be a recurring theme, so far. “And it’s not a must. If you change your mind-”

It’s pure instinct. There’s no thought involved as she closes the gap between them, this time with her on top, and presses her lips against his. The response is immediate and enthusiastic. She considers just going on, not putting a stop to things, but realization hits that, although overall she’s ready for this to happen, she’s not ready for it to happen tonight. There’s still things she needs to take care of. Most importantly, protection.

So, gasping for breath, she pulls away. “I’m calling for a rain check, but if after that, you still think I’ll change my mind-” she pushes back her hair and forces herself to take a deep breath. “-then you may just be beyond help, Barnes.” If the chuckle is anything to judge from, she’s made her point.

_________________________________________________________________________________

Wow. Bucky thinks to himself as he exits out of the browser tab on his phone. That’s enough internet for one day. Too much, actually. He knows that it’s the information superhighway, but good god, no one needs THAT much information. He really needs to be more specific with what he googles… or less… or just not at all.

He’d never admit it (and really, who the hell is gonna ask him anyway), but he spent the last hour looking up how to have sex. He’s engaged in the act before, yeah, but it was seventy years ago. Plus, it used to be this huge taboo thing that you suspected was going on behind closed doors, but no one (not even the married couples) owned up to it. If you were ever found out, there were severe consequences. As a man, he didn’t have to worry as much, but if whoever the woman was had her dirty laundry aired… oh boy. She’d be a pariah, a “scarlet woman”, unfit for marriage or to even give the time of day. That led to limited encounters, and, well, it just seemed smart to brush up on what information is out there. As it turns out, people have written a lot about the fine art of love making. Unfortunately for him, most of it is absolute garbage. Some of the positions he just read about (because at that point, the article was like a train wreck; he badly wanted to look away, but he couldn’t) don’t even sound possible, much less pleasurable. He’s all for society being freer, but good grief!

He’s halfway through a bottle of straight vodka (it won’t have any effect, but he’s hoping maybe the alcohol will travel to his brain and sanitize his eyeballs from most of the shit he just read) when his phone rings. Great. He’s always happy to talk to her, but right now… wow. It’s gonna take him some time to recover, so he hopes she doesn’t need him to say much.

“Hey, Doll.”

“I am so fucking pissed off right now.” That sounds promising.

“At what?”

“The city of Bucharest, my apartment, the landlord, whoever the fuck did the plumbing in this building! God!” She’s clearly out of breath, so it takes a minute before she can speak again. “I’m sorry, Buck. It’s just that I came home from work, and one of my neighbors told me the entire sixth floor is under a good inch, inch and a half of water.” Wait-

“How-”

“I don’t know. Busted pipe. It’s leaked down onto the fifth floor, so I’ve got about fifty other pissed off people for company.”

“Jesus.”

She chuckles harshly. “Yeah, we could use him right about now to perform a miracle. This is a shit show, and I haven’t even told you the best part.”

“So the spontaneous flood wasn’t the highlight of your day?”

“I fucking wish! So, naturally, I tried to call the landlord, along with basically everyone else. Get this: since it’s after five o’clock on a Friday, he’s not gonna do anything. Told us collectively to suck it up! And of course, when there’s a leak, they have to cut the power…” He’s starting to see a pattern here.

She sighs. “I really needed to get that off my chest. How are you?” Still slightly weirded out by the information overload, but feeling a little more steady now that he’s got a good catastrophe to concentrate on. However, that’s probably not the best answer to go with.

“Better than you are.”

“What, the sky isn’t falling where you are?” He chuckles.

“No, it’s right where it’s supposed to be.” Which reminds him… “But since it seems like you’re short a functional home, why don’t you just stay here until they sort things out?” He’s got a couch that, while it doesn’t have anything on an actual bed, he can manage to sleep on for the next few nights. Or maybe they can share his bed. He shakes his head. That thought needs to be put to the side, even if it’s meant in the most innocent way possible. Of course, in case she decides to cash in that rain check…

“Yes. I mean, that would be great, if you’re sure.”

“I’m sure.” Actually, he can’t think of a better way to spend the weekend. The plan was to meet up either Saturday or Sunday, possibly both, so this isn’t that far out of the ordinary.

“Okay, but just a warning: They’re not letting us go up to our floor in case there’s been electrical damage as well-” That’s smart. If the pipes are in that bad of condition, who knows what the wiring looks like. “-so all I have is my purse, backpack, and what I wore to work. No toothbrush or pajamas, or anything like that.”

“That’s alright. All you have to bring is yourself.” He’ll have to look, but he’s pretty sure he has something in his closet that’ll work okay for her until she gets the all clear to go into her apartment. Plus, there’s a laundry mat just around the corner, not to mention a pharmacy.

“Thank you. I really appreciate it.”

“Not a problem.” He glances at his bedside clock. Five thirty-four. It takes roughly half an hour to get across the city by bus, so… “I’ll see you around six fifteen?”

“See you then.”

As soon as the line goes dead, he springs into action. First thing’s first: make sure there’s no dirty clothes, old dishes, or trash laying around. That takes all of five minutes. He should probably check that he does indeed have something she can wear so they won’t have to fumble around later. Tshirts are pretty universal and… yes, he has a few pajama bottoms that have a drawstring waist. How much time does he have left? The phone screen lights up, giving him his answer. Twenty-seven minutes. More than enough time to run around the corner and pick up a few things.

His intention is to buy the basics: spare toothbrush, deodorant, hairbrush, maybe a different shampoo than his three-in-one body wash (it’s convenient for him, but she might prefer something designated for hair specifically). But, well, there’s quite a few aisles, and he gets sucked in. Does he need to buy razors, or is that rude, like he thinks she’s hairy? What about aspirin? How often do most people get headaches? He honestly can’t remember.

By the time he realizes that he really needs to get a move on, his basket is full and he has no idea what aisle he’s on. Desperately, he looks around, and his eyes land on… huh. So they just have them out in the open these days. Last time he was in the market for that, he had to beg a married friend to make the purchase for him. He briefly wonders if he’ll need to produce proof of marriage or something similar, but pushes the thought to the side. It’s the 2000s. He can probably just go up to the register and pay, and no one will give him a second look. But there’s just one problem: which brand? He should google… suddenly remembering his adventure from earlier today, he decides to just go with his gut and pick one. There. Now, he needs to pay and get the fuck out of here because there’s only ten minutes left, and he’d rather not have these out in the open, in case she thinks that’s the reason he’s asked her to stay over. If it happens, great. If not… well, he’s made it for the past seventy years. What’s a few more?

___________________________________________________________________________________

She was still pretty shaken up when she arrived at his apartment, carrying her backpack and purse, slightly damp from the drizzle of rain now covering the city. But immediately receiving a long hug, being instructed to make herself at home, and hearing the offer to take a shower so she could warm up did a lot to restore her good mood.

It was one of the sweetest thing she’s ever experienced in a lifetime where most people have showed her their worst, going into that bathroom and finding a new toothbrush, stick of deodorant, nail clippers, hairbrush, and even shampoo. That and Barnes bashfully informing her that, “I’ll stay in the living room until you’re done. Take your time.” She almost suggested that he just join her in an attempt to broach the subject they left off on two nights ago, but thought better of it. She’s just started to strip when a knock comes from the other side of the wall.

“Sorry. I just remembered that I forgot to give you a change of clothes. Can I leave them outside the door?” A smile forms on her face.

“Sure. Go ahead.” No one’s given this much thought to her comfort or boundaries before. Yet another reason she knows this is the right decision.

She doesn’t stay in the shower for long, just enough time to wash and stop shivering. After toweling off and brushing out her hair, she cracks open the door. Sure enough, a worn but clean tshirt and pair of pajama bottoms are waiting for her. The familiar scent of the laundry detergent he uses envelopes her as she dresses and, at long last, leaves the safety of the bathroom.

True to his word, he’s still sitting on the couch, thumbing through a book she gave him some months back (he’s missed so many feats of literature that have made their way into pop culture; today’s choice is The Hobbit because, while it was out before everything happened to him, he’s never read it) when she emerges. Just in case he’s so absorbed that he hasn’t heard her, she repeats his gesture from earlier and knocks softly on the wall.

“Hey. I’m out. You can have your apartment back.”

“Hey.” That smile always makes her feel slightly unsteady on her feet. “Find everything okay?”

“I did.” She settles into the place next to him. “Thank you, by the way. You didn’t have to go out and get supplies.”

“I know.” He nods, hand closing around hers. “But I wanted to make sure you had whatever you needed.”

They chat for a while about their days, discuss what they should do with the weekend ahead, even throw out ideas for dinner. The entire time, she’s trying to figure out the best way to bring up that she’d really like to finish what they started the other night. However, by the time he’s left to grab some sort of takeout, she’s still no closer to an answer.

Fortunately, their dates usually follow a pattern. Food, a movie, and then the not-so-innocent cuddles. This time, he’s on top of her when she feels the tell-tale sign that he’s as fired up as she is, so she suggests,

“Do want to maybe move to somewhere more comfortable?” His already dilated pupils grow even larger, and he nods.

“Yeah. That sounds like a plan.” She waits for him to roll off of her and head towards the bedroom before she grabs her purse and, digging around inside, grabs one of the foil packages she bought after their last date.

It’s only once she closes the door behind her, shutting them into an enclosed space with a bed (not to mention it’s pretty damn clear what both of their intentions are), that nerves get the better of her. He takes a step towards her, and she leans up to kiss him, but he ducks his head out of the way.

“You’re shaking.” His hand ghosts over her arm, making it obvious that, by comparison, she’s practically vibrating on the spot.

“Sorry.” She chuckles nervously. “It’ll pass.”

“It’s alright.” As he says it, he meets her eyes. “We can stop. Nothing has to happen.”

“I know.” She nods, swallowing hard. “But I want it to.” Their lips briefly meet before he pulls away again.

“Let me ask you, just before we get started, is this-” He stops short, eyes darting from her face to the wall and back again. “...have you… before?” Oh. “Not that it matters, not to me, I just wanted to know so that-”

“I have.” She nods, feeling heat rise to her cheeks. “Once. I was eighteen, and-” It was awful. She’d been seeing the guy for a few months and he kept whining about her not putting out, so she decided to get it over with. He went in dry without any warning, and when she asked him to stop, give her a second to adjust, he told her he couldn’t. She was bleeding and in pain for days afterwards, and to top it off, when her period was late, she thought that, even though he’d pulled out, she was pregnant. That turned out not to be the case, but it, along with the fact that she usually doesn’t stay in one place for very long, has put a damper on her ever wanting to do that again. Except for now. “-it wasn’t a great experience.”

“I’m sorry.” On instinct, she searches for the judgment in his face, the disgust. It’s nowhere to be found, only genuine sympathy. “I’ll do my best to make sure this time is better. That is, if you’re still up to it.”

“I am.” Not waiting for a reply, she wraps her arms around him and starts trailing kisses up his neck towards his ear. “I am. I trust you.” She hears his breath catch, but before she can comment, he’s hoisted her up and is carrying her in the direction of the bed.

As he sets her down, she pulls him on top of her, letting her hands wander over his sides, up his back. After a few moments, she feels his fingers move from her hips to toy with the hem of her… his.. shirt.

“Is this okay? Can I take this off?” She starts to nod, but remembers just in time that he’s so close, they’d butt heads.

“Please.” She expected to feel exposed once she was at least partially undressed, but instead she feels… adored. His eyes are roaming over her newly exposed skin, though his hands have respectfully returned to her waist. In a moment of confidence, she reaches behind her and unhooks her bra. There. Now she’s completely shirtless.

“You’re so beautiful.” The flush from her cheeks is spreading down her neck, but she still smiles.

“Care to make things even?” It’s brief, but she catches the look of hesitation.

“Sure.” Before she can offer to do it, he shrugs his shirt over his head, revealing to her, for the first time, the entirity of his metal arm. She must look for a moment too long, because with a shrug, he informs her, “I can put my shirt back on. No big deal. I know there’s some scarring…” That’s not going to fly. She needs to reassure him, make him feel as desired as he’s made her feel.

“Or if you want to stop-” She stands and, after briefly making eye contact, places a kiss on the most prominent scar.

“Don’t you dare think that way for a second.” They’re flush against each other, chest to bare chest. “Not for one.” Slowly, she slides her hands from his shoulders down to his waist, hesitating just over the button. “Is this okay?” Another shakey breath.

“Yes.”

Going forward, it’s much less awkward. The rest of their clothing is shed, and soon they’re back to their previous position; on the bed, with him on top of her. She feels his fingertips brush the inside of her thigh and gasps.

“May I touch you?” She nods.

“You’d better.”

It’s gentle, more of him feeling her out than anything else. Still, she can’t help but think this is infinitely better already than last time around. Suddenly, he pulls his hand away, and it takes all her effort not to whine at the loss of contact. Before she can ask if something’s wrong, does he want to stop, he’s flat on his stomach, head between her legs.

“Tell me if you need me to stop.”

“What-” Her breath catches as it becomes infinitely clear what he’s doing.

Again, she’s expecting pain when, after several minutes he eases a finger into her, but at this point, she’s so wet that there’s absolutely no difficulty.

“Are you okay?” She nods.

“Don’t stop.”

The process is agonizingly slow, he’s so intent on his task. When, finally, he pulls away, she’s so close that she can almost taste it.

“Do you still want to-”

“If you don’t stop asking me that, I’m gonna slap you.” It’s a joke, and she thinks he knows it, but just to be sure, she siezes his hand (the metal one, which is usually cold but has now warmed from being held close against her body. “I’m ready, so long as you want this too.”

“I do. You wouldn’t believe how much.” Yeah, she thinks she would. “Just give me a second.” Perfect timing. He rolls off of her, which gives her the opening she needs to grab the packet she managed to hide under the pillow while he was… otherwise distracted. When he returns from digging inside the wardrobe, she holds it up, only to realize-

“Oh.” He’s got one as well. “Seems like we both came prepared.”

He chuckles. “Just in case, although that wasn’t why I asked you to stay.”

“I know.” She nods and pats the space next to her. “Not why I said yes either, although I can’t say I’m disappointed.”

He returns to the bed and drops his packet onto the nightstand. “Save this one for later?”

“Definitely.”

There is a bit of discomfort once he starts to push inside her, but it’s not painful. Just… overwhelming. Slightly embarassed she asks,

“Can you wait a second? Please?”

“Of course. Are you alright?” She shifts her hips slightly, making them both groan.

“Fine. You can move now.”

She may have only done this once before, and she has no idea what his experience consists of, but as she hits her peak mere seconds before he does, gently coaxed over the edge, she can’t help but think some things are better the second time around.

“I love you.” It’s whispered against her neck as, once she cleans up and returns to bed, she settles herself against him.

“I love you too.”

___________________________________________________________________________________

The first thing he thinks when he realizes that he’s not alone in bed is that HYDRA’s found him. He’s being activated. His eyes shoot open although apart from that he doesn’t move a muscle, and that’s when he recognizes the person next to him. It’s her. She’s here.

The events of last night come back to him all at once, and he feels a smile forming on his face. It’s been a while, and in any case, it would be wrong to run a comparison, but what they shared, the pure intimacy of it both physically and mentally was incredible. Maybe he should feel a sense of shame. That’s what he was taught growing up. But instead he feels… peaceful.

That is, until her eyelids flutter and she rolls over, shifting the covers so that he gets a good view of her still naked body, and with it, the bruises on her thighs and hips. Bruises unmistakably left by his fingers. Dammit. He’s done the last thing he ever wanted to do: he’s hurt her.

“Good morning, sleepy head.” She yawns, the teasing words muffled. “It seems like we overslept.”

His mouth goes dry, and all he can manage to choke out is a simple, “Yeah.”

She frowns, sitting up slightly, and lets out a small groan. “You alright there, Bucky? You look a little off.” The late morning light only serves to highlight more marks he’s left, this time on her shoulders, neck, and breasts. Stubble burn. Hickeys. Why the hell was he so rough? At the time, he thought he was being gentle, but obviously he’s just as much of a monster as Bucky Barnes as he is once the Winter Soldier takes over.

She’s still staring at him, brow furrowing in concern.

“Fine.” He clears his throat and begins to sit up. “Stay here. I’ll make you a cup of tea, maybe some oatmeal.”

“Alright. Don’t be gone too long.”

Her words follow him out of the room, and into the kitchen. Fuck. He should’ve known better.

Maybe once upon a time, he was a decent man, one who could be with a woman like her and not do her a disservice. But now, it’s clear that he falls short in every way. In an act that was supposed to be pure pleasure, a way of communicating how much they mean to each other, he’s hurt her.

“I trust you.” The words from last night ring in his ears. He shouldn’t have let her. It’s pretty damn obvious that, even at the best of times, he can’t be trusted.

“Tell me what’s going on.” Even with his enhanced senses, he still jumps in surprise as the unexpected words come from behind him. He turns around slowly, not wanting to startle her. She’s standing there, clad in only one of his shirts, arms crossed over her chest (now bearing his marks), staring him down.

“Nothing.” He shakes his head.

“Bullshit. I had a vision of you staring off into space, and here you are, jumpy as a long-tailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs.” At another time, her choice in phrases would make him chuckle, but right now, he can’t muster it.

“Last night-” Her eyes widen, but she stays silent. “I hurt you.”

“No, you didn’t. Not at all.”

“I did.”

She frowns. “Bucky, I think I’d know if you’d hurt me, and I’m telling you, I’m fine.”

“Doll, look at yourself!” He reaches out to take her arm, but immediately freezes. “Go in the bathroom and take off your shirt. Take a good look in the mirror and then tell me I didn’t hurt you.”

“Alright.” Her jaw clenches, and she marches off in the direction of the bathroom. A deep sickness gnaws at the pit of his stomach and, completely worn out, he sinks into a kitchen chair.

Not thirty seconds pass before she walks back into the room, this time completely undressed.

“Tell me you’re not talking about a few love bites.”

“And bruises! You may not have noticed, but they’re in the exact shape of my fingertips.”

“Oh my god!” She shakes her head. “It’s a sex injury. A minor one at that! If you didn’t heal so damn fast, you’d probably have nail marks all over your back!”

“That’s not the same thing.”

“How is it not the same thing?”

“I’m a monster! And you’re not.”

She takes a determined step towards him, and he leans as far back as the chair will allow.

“Bucky, you are not a monster, and I am not afraid of you.”

“Then you’re stupid.” He hates himself for his sharp words, but she needs to take this seriously. Underestimating how dark, how evil he can be, is a mistake. A deadly one.

“Hey!”

“Don’t you get it?” Without any input from his brain, he stands. “They could find me, and with a few words, I could stare you dead in the eyes as I murdered you! If you were my mission, I wouldn’t even hesitate, and you’d be dead before your body hit the floor!” Her mouth falls open, but she immediately closes it again. “This isn’t something that can be worked through with some patience and a positive attitude! I could kill you!”

“So could a million other things!” Her voice rises in volume, and before he can contain it-

“But they’re not in the bed sleeping next to you!” He’s shouting at her. God. Everyone is right. He’s beyond saving.

A few tense seconds pass before she looks up at him, a steely look in her eyes.

“Look, I get it. I know what you could do to me.” As she speaks, she pulls out a chair and sits. “But I could also get run over when I cross the road, or the room could fill with carbon monoxide while I sleep. I could have an aneurysm and drop before anyone knows what’s happening.”

He opens his mouth to tell her the likelihood of any of those things happening is far lower than the chance that he’ll hurt her, this time in a major way, but she holds up a hand, silencing him.

“I’m gonna be cautious, but I’m also not going to live my life in fear that the ceiling is going to collapse or nuclear war is going to strike, or that someone is gonna turn up and say the magic words that make you go cuckoo for cocoa puffs-” What? “-and I just realized you’re too old for that reference.”

“That’s another thing-” He’s about to remind her exactly how big their age gap is, that although he’s physically close to her age, chronologically, he’s closer to the age of her great grandfather, but she lets out a sudden groan of frustration, and that makes him bite his tongue.

“Oh, fuck off, Barnes! If you’re about to start in on how you’re too old for me, then I’m not gonna wait for you to go full Winter Soldier before I kick your ass!” Out of all things, that’s what snaps him out of it, makes him feel like maybe, just maybe, there’s still a chance they can make the best of things.

Smirking, he asks her,

“You think you could kick my ass? Really?” It must be the breaking point for her too, because she snickers.

“Of course. It’s the little bitches you have to watch out for.” That’s it, he’s laughing, nearly doubled over, and from the looks of things, she’s in much the same state.

“You’re something else, you know that?” He asks between stilted breaths.

“I think we both fit in that category, Pal.” Her smile fades, but only slightly. “Bucky, if you really want me to go, if that’s what’ll give you peace, then I’ll do it, but I meant what I said. I trust you.” Never. He’ll never want her to go, he’s sure of it. Well then, that only leaves one option.

“I know what we’re doing today.” It’s an abrupt segue, but it’s the only thing he could come up with on short notice.

“And what’s that?” The microwave dings, reminding him that he needs to stir the oatmeal, and he pushes past her.

“Sit down and have your tea. You’re going to need all your energy if I’m gonna show you how to use a gun.” If she’s staying, then at least he can teach her how to defend herself beyond the basics she already knows.

“So I guess this means you’re keeping me around for a little while longer?” It’s spoken like a joke, but he turns to her, meeting her eyes to drive the point home.

“Yeah, Doll. As long as you want me."

#marvel #captain america #the winter soldier #bucky fanfic #fanfiction #bucky barnes x ofc #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes #pre civil war

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todaydreambelieversfic · 3 years

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Author Spotlight: Coffeegleek Day 3

Author : @coffeegleek

How many times do you usually revise your fic/chapter before posting?

At least a few revisions. Then multiple editing passes, and even with my spouse as my proofreader for the past 25+ years, and doing more editing passes before posting to AO3, I still find annoying little typos, sometimes large ones.

If you were to revise one of your older fics from start to finish, which would it be and why?

There was a crack fic I stopped writing years ago. It was a self-challenge during one of those tumblr trope challenges. I was trying to combine all of the tropes into the same fic as they were announced. It got zero traction though so I gave up. I'd love to go back and complete it, make it better. I had the whole thing outlined too.

What do you look for in a beta?

My spouse. We've been together for decades. He's been proofreading my original science fiction work and various fandoms' fanfics since before we were married. He even proofreads my Klaine smut and doesn't blink an eye. (He's a Glee fan too and on tumblr.) He knows what I'm trying to say when I can't find the right words and supplies them. He catches things I don't. What I love the most is for my original work, he's written his own fanfic. It's BAD. It truly is, but it's so heartfelt and earnest. He even came up with a soundtrack should I ever publish my sci-fi novel and the movie or show rights be bought. You really can't get a better beta than that. <3

There’s a number of friends on tumblr that I bounce ideas off of and who give me advice for topics they know far more about than me and google. I try to thank them in my fics.

If you could write the sequel (or prequel) to any fic out there not written by yourself, which would you choose?

I’m going to steal another author’s recent answer and say that I could never do someone else’s work justice. However, I would love to see the author’s ideas for their fics even if they couldn’t write a prequel or sequel.

I suck at remembering titles and author names. There were two political fics that I would love to read more of should their authors ever decide to write in those verses again. One was where Kurt and Blaine's dads were running for president and Kurt and Blaine were along for the ride, staying in the same hotels at time (where they first met,) having to do school remotely, having to be the perfect sons for the press and Blaine being fed up because his parents were conservative Republicans. Then there was another fic where Burt was president and Kurt was the First Son living in the White House, along with Finn, and it was hard to date when your every move is watched by the press.

Do you take liberties with canon or are you very strict about your fic being canon compliant?

I write AU, so canon is only a word often misspelled by me. :) Seriously though, I try to incorporate as many canon elements and characters into my AU fics as I can. It's the kind of AU I like to read as well. What draws me to read and write AUs is taking canon characters, putting them into a different setting, and seeing how they'll react. At their core, they still need to remain the same in principle and have many of the same traits. Like Kurt will always love fashion and be headstrong no matter what. Blaine is always going to have that spark within himself, no matter how depressed or oppressed he gets. Burt and Carole are always going to be loving and nurturing parents at heart. Even in fics where Burt isn't woke, there's a part of him that means well. (Not one of my own fics, but one I read a long time ago.) Different circumstances will change the canon characters and make them react in different ways though. Like, Kurt could end up more withdrawn and hide his love of fashion as a matter of survival and self preservation. He or Blaine could turn into "bad boys." Coach Beiste will always have a heart of gold. Miss Pillsbury will always have a problem with messes. Things like that. I know canon. Give me all the alternate universe versions of it and I will be a happy camper.

Talk about a review that made your day.

I haven't checked for reviews on my fics in ages (because I'm an insecure chicken) so I don't remember any specifically. I do remember there were many that made my day. There are those who take the time to review every chapter. Ones who write only a short note to thank me for writing the fic - both the angsty ones and the cracky fun ones. I love it when someone mentions something that no one else has that I was hoping someone would notice because I was proud of it. I'm not a popular author and don't get a lot of kudos or comments or reblogs compared to many. So each comment and kudos means a lot to me and I'd like to publicly thank every single person who wrote one or hit that kudos button.

Do you ever get rude reviews and how do you deal with them?

I once got a troll who decided it was his job to complain that I had misspelled hors d'oeuvres in one sentence out of an entire verse where the word was written multiple times correctly. It was a series of Klaine Advent one shots for the Empty Nest verse. At first I was shocked and replied with an apology. Then I was, "F this. The person is a troll who didn't read any other part of the fic or verse, just this one quickly written one shot entry, and if all they had to say was that I'd misspelled a commonly misspelled word, then they aren't worth my time." I deleted the comment. There's concrit and trolling. It wasn't concrit.

What advice do you have for people just starting to write?

Have fun writing, even the hard stuff. Know that it's okay to take breaks. Try your best and know you'll get better the more you write and the more you read. Pronouns are your friend and free. Don't put, "I know this is going to suck, so whatever," in your fic description. We all suck at times. It's a part of writing. But if you want folks to read it, using that as your fic's summary isn't the way to go. Just my opinions, which won't even buy you a cup of coffee.

Which fic do you most like to discuss with other people? Why?

I think it’s pretty obvious from all of my rambling that I enjoy talking about both of my series - Empty Nest verse and A Very Hallmark Christmas verse. I'm not a popular author and I know my fics, especially the Empty Nest verse ones, aren’t everyone’s thing, so I never get to really discuss them except with friends that I bug to death in private and via long replies to comments on AO3. (You all are saints blessed by all of the good and patient gods.) I have so much to say about them - the process of writing them, the world building, research, and character decisions that went into every single one. I know they’re not perfect. I know the Empty Nest verse grew miles beyond the ficlette about Burt and Carole that it was meant to be. I know my sense of humor in the Hallmark verse isn’t everyone’s thing either. I still worked really hard on them and am glad that I did. Empty Nest let me release a lot of the fear and anxiety I had for my Hispanic and gay son after the 2016 election. The Hallmark ones were a needed break to put some humor into my life. If others enjoyed them, great. If folks want to know more, my inbox is always open.

What's one aspect of writing fic that gets you really excited?

Writing humor even if I'm the only one that finds it funny. As I said above, writing the Hallmark Christmas movie dialogue and plot and the actors as they were filming it was a blast. Writing the commercials was fun and exciting. In my angsty fics, knowing I wrote a good scene, line, or moment that brought out all the feels. That's more of “satisfaction of a job well done” than excited.

***

Check out Coffeegleek’s Fics

Humorous Spooky Drabbles - Humorous drabbles to spookish type prompts based on a tumblr post called October Drabble Prompts #1 by hallofceleano. The parts in bold and italic are from those prompts. Characters include Kurt, Blaine, Burt, Carole, and Finn. All fun; only #4 has some mild angst. #4 is for snarkyhag and regarding #5 - I know next to nothing about Twilight and had to look up Taylor Lautner on imdb. The liberties I took are my own.

A Very Sloppy Christmas - lucy8675309 posted to tumblr a series of gifs with Kurt dressed up as an elf. It inspired me to write the following prompt, which CoffeeAddict80 encouraged me to write as a fic:

I now want a fic where real Santa’s elf!Kurt gets drunk and vents to Blaine about all the woes of working for Santa. He’s over 100 years old and the outfits are terrible. Why couldn’t they wear clothes like the elves did in that one movie? Drunk elf Kurt has no idea he’s venting to Santa’s son.

Bonus if he wakes up and realizes he just had a drunken one night stand. He isn’t sure who it was with. Only that he’s naked, the guy in the bed beside him is naked and showing off a really great ass. Then said guy turns over and after Kurt’s done staring at his dick, he looks at the guy’s face and realizes who it is.

It’s a Twisted World - I decided to challenge myself by combining the posted 5 weekly Klaine AU Friday themes and adding another one of my own. So that means: Farm, Fairytale, Vintage (1900’s,) Super Powers, Zombie Apocalypse, and Harry Potter World Klaine with a splash of a fic idea I thought of while in the produce section of the grocery store. Each week, the story will continue, though each part stands alone. This is not a brilliant work of perfectly composed fan fiction. What it is, is fast-paced, cracky fun, with a large dose of innuendo. At least it had my son laughing his ass off. I hope y'all enjoy it too. :)

#author spotlight #coffeegleek

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hugsfromdad · 3 years

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I've been mia on here, but not mia in the disaster bisexual front. So lemme fill you in

Okay, so idk if I've talked on here over the past few months about a cute cashier, but I can't seem to find it on my blog, so imma assume I haven't.

Back in mid August, I got my kitten. I got him 2 weeks earlier than expected, so the day before I picked him up, I had to run out and get his supplies. My friend was coming over that day, so we decided to hang out (outside) at my house, go get ice cream, and then go to the pet store for my stuff. after we got all that I needed, we went into Market Basket to buy some snacks so we could sit out in the parking lot and talk for a few hours. Well, that's where this story starts.

I looked hella fucking gay that day. (Striped button up UNbuttoned like halfway, my huge choker chain, and then my white washed levi's with a white 'Sisters' belt, and white converses. I can post a pic later if y'all want) so anyways, I was expecting to get some looks and stared. I did. Whatever. Well, were checking out at the speed aisle, and I notice eyes on me. I normally glace around when I'm checking out to see who is working, but I was met this time by the gaze of a cashier two rows back. I glanced down cause I didn't want to be rude, but when I check again, she was still looking at me. So I intentionally held her gaze for a few moments as I took note of what she looked like. Then I finished checking out and left with my friend.

While I'm a disaster bi and will focus and freak out over the smallest interraction with a cute person, I have become aware that most people (my friends) don't read into moments like that and will make fun of me if I do. That being said, I told myself it was probably just in my head and not that significant; that she was just checking out my outfit and clocking me as either a gay guy out with his girlfriend, (which was pretty much the case) or a couple getting some things.

WELL, so right as I was trying to not make anything out of it, my friend turns to me and goes. "Did you see that cashier staring at you? Like, she kept looking at you." And I was like "OKAY SO IT WASNT JUST ME" and she was like "no, she was really looking at you. She's really cute, too." And thus it began.

She's got a great style (also gorgeous even with a mask on, but I was more intrigued and attracted to her style). I told her that I liked her style a couple months ago and she repeated it back to me. She wears multiple necklaces, rings, and somehow makes her store uniform look cool. When I first really took note of her, my immediate thought was "she gives me west coast vibes." My best friend agreed with me when we were in the store together and she was there. And she might not be from the west coast, but if she told me she was from san Fransisco, I would believe it in a heartbeat. She got like a modern Marissa from the OC style. (I didn't watch the show, only those couple gay scenes with her character in it, so don't come for me)

So anyways, for the first 3-4ish months, my brain would short circuit as soon as we would lock eyes. Like, I can't describe it besides just a fog or a mental lockdown. I could like make eye contact, but I would just be in constant panic. I also couldn't imagine what to do next. Thus, I would panic and choose to go in a different aisle than hers for the first while. I didn't know what to do with a gorgeous woman who had eyes on me. (ALSO; I would like to state that her vibes and style are so immaculate, that I almost expect her to be gay. I thought she was clocking me as another gay person at first, but then I realized that we gays don't stare at someone of the opposite gender THIS much. So she could be gay. Idk. I'm good either way.)

Back to the panic: so it took me awhile to actually get the nerve up to choose her aisle when I could. Then we finally like interacted. I finally got her name, and I like asked her how she was. This happened like twice, and then there was a time I came in right after seeing my nephews(socially distanced). It was a slower day, so I didn't feel hurried in moving along. I asked her how her day was, and she answered and asked how mine was. I mentioner being happy cause I finally got to see my nephews after months of not. She then asked how old they were. We talked for a moment before I knew I have to go. It was as I was picking up my bag that I paused and looked at her and said "I've been meaning to say, I like your style." She like paused and said thanks, and that she liked mine as well. I then said something like "see you next time" and left.

From then, I'd see her when I went in, but almost every time she was in the wrong lane. We'd lock eyes as I walked in, and as I checked out and left, but we didn't get to like talk. That is, until I was tagging along shopping with my mum the day after fucking election night.

I don't think I need to say that I was more anxious and distracted than I had ever been when going in, and glued to my phone; refreshing google and watching the numbers come in. I don't think I even looked up when I walked in. I was in another place. I should also mention that I had noticed that the cute cashier (that's literally my nickname for her) usually worked on the weekends. This was a wednesday. So I was NOT paying sttention. I just followed my mum around the store while watching my phone and trying to do the math to see if there was a possibility that biden could win. Well, my mother eventually stuck us in line to check out, and asks me to get off my phone and help her unload, thats when I lift me head, and I'm staring directly into her eyes.

She was bagging for our aisle, so she was just standing there in my direct line of sight. And she has been watching me, waiting for me to fucking finally look up.

I'm sure I looked beyond stunned. Because I was. I honestly was so braindead from the day, that it took me a moment of staring back at to her process as to what was happening. I got it together quickly tho and bantered and talked with her a bit as she bagged and I helped load. She definitely was doing more than most, if that makes sense. I challenged her to fitting all of the groceries onto one cart cause she said she could. It was fun, and I think I again said "see you around* or something like that as we left.

And once again, once we got outside, my mother now goes "oh that bagger was cute." And I told her that that was the cute one I had mentioned before. THEN SHE GOES "oh yeah I picked up on that vibe of y'all." And I WANTED to ask her what that MEANT, but I didn't want to push it and then have my mother know/be able to make things awakrd.

ANYWAYS, 3 chapters in, lemme get to last months. I fucking got in anxiety meds. AND MY WORLD CHANGED. my mental block and fog was GONE. I could finally see a pathway through to like actually talking talking to her. SO, I pulled out a receipt, wrote down my number, and stuck it in my wallet for the next time I saw her.

Welp, the next time that was, she was in the wrong lane and teaching a new cashier what to do, so there was no way I was gonna try and insert myself into that situation. BUT, as I was walking both in and out, we locked eyes as usual, but this time as I was leaving, I did like a quick smile which caused me to squint my eyes for a half second. It almost looks like when a cat does their slow blink at you. I saw her respond to that and like smile back at me as I left. It was the first time I had ever done anything that was direct and nonverbally flirty.

So, I had to go again last night. And my parents were putting us in strict lockdown for the next 10 days, so we had to stock up. Before we left, I rewrote my note. And I told my best friends what was happening, and no matter what was the situation, I was gonna give her the note.

Well, she wasnt there. I was extremely disappointed.

Annnnd that leaves us here. It's gonna be a good 10-14 days before I'm allowed to go out, but youd better fucking believe it when I say that imma be giving her my number the moment I see her next. So wish me luck.

And also in case anyone asks; I don't want to try any dating apps cause I hate them. Also I'm half asleep now she don't have the energy to go back and edit this. Hopefully it's coherent.

So I guess I'll update y'all when I eventually get to leave the house and see her again

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kylorengarbagedump · 4 years

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Little Bird: Chapter 16

Read on AO3. Part 15 here. Part 17 here.

Summary: The horrors of Gilead are too much to bear. You've been selfish.

Words: 3100

Warnings: Handmaid AU

Characters: Kylo Ren x Handmaid!Reader

A/N: Guys... Ren knows she's missing... what the fuck is gonna happen...

(I know but I'm not telling.)

Thank you everyone for your interest and attention to this story. I have no words to express how grateful I am. I love y'all so much. <3

The rest of the house was surprisingly plain, considering its underbelly. Rey and Finn slept on the second floor, and Poe, as their driver, had an adjoining room on the first floor. The facade was one of a normal, functioning Gilead household, with Angel, Wife, and their help all existing in perfect harmony. Part of you wanted to know more about Finn and Rey’s marriage--did they love each other, was it arranged, how had they managed to create the Resistance--but you couldn’t think of a polite way to ask.

Perhaps that was more conditioning. You couldn’t remember if questions like that had appeared unimportant before Gilead.

“Anyway, that’s all for the house,” Rey said. “You’ll likely only be here a few days, but we think it’s important you know where everything is, should anything happen.”

You blinked. “Happen?”

She waved her hands dismissively. “Not that anything has! Or that we expect it to. But it’s better to be prepared.”

Somehow, this did little to ease your nerves. The reality of being involved with a treasonous group of rebels was starting to settle. Of course you could never be a spy for them. You were trying to save your life. You’d done enough risking it at the end of Kylo Ren’s cock.

Rey led you back through the den, a large room lit with tall, dim lamps and a crackling fire. Bookcases packed tight with spines adorned each wall, reaching the ceiling, and a couple of massive leather sofas framed a heavy, carved coffee table at the center. The hardwood gleamed at your feet, reflecting the flames from the fireplace. Rey trudged forward, heading toward the hearth.

“This is a little cliche, I know,” she said. “But we couldn’t think of a better deterrent than fire.”

She pulled a brick out from the side of the fireplace and tugged out a pair of thick, black gloves that went up to her elbows. After pulling them on, to your horror, she reached into the fire, digging into the logs, and yanked at a lever. Nothing happened. But she didn’t seem deterred. Next, she tore away the thick, Persian rug at the foot of the hearth, pushing back one of the slats of hardwood and using it like a handle, wrenching open a rectangular slab of wood, wisps of smoke escaping as she revealed another hidden entrance.

You shrugged, heart skipping again. “You guys have a lot of these, huh.”

Rey smiled, replacing the gloves in the brick. “Just these two. This is the more important one, though. Come on!”

With quick feet, she disappeared down the tiny staircase, the walls closing even tighter than the ones before, compressing your frame like a compactor. You weren’t as fast, surveying your path, noticing the open grate in the ceiling that hung under where the fireplace was positioned. The air was stifling, almost woolen.

“When the grate is open, it becomes pretty much impossible to breathe.” Rey was at an iron door at the end of the staircase, now, spinning the combination lock above the handle. “We hope that in the event of an emergency, it would give enough time to allow for evacuation.”

Swallowing, you nodded, as if you wanted to be worrying about an emergency. Then again, your entire life had been an emergency for the past few years. What did the change of scenery really matter? The lock clicked, and the door opened. Rey waved you on. Holding your breath, you snuck down with your skirts bunched above your ankles, crossing the threshold and into a cooler, open room. She followed, and the door clamped shut behind you.

In front of you was another area illuminated with the same battery tap lights as you’d seen in their war room, accompanied with those similar eggshell crates. Beds lined the walls, some of them occupied, others barren. At the end of the room was a closed door, light peeking out from the frame. As you glanced around the space, each time a pair of eyes landed on you, shame leapt from inside your chest and swallowed you whole. You counted three strangers corralled here, total, all dressed in sweatshirts and jeans that looked about a decade old. And inside the gazes of these strangers, you saw yourself: terrified. Desperate. Alone.

“We have a new addition today, everyone,” said Rey. “Would you like to introduce yourself?”

Throwing a half-hearted wave, you mumbled your name. “Hello.”

“Right!” Her hand at your back again, she ushered you forward. “Clockwise, that’s Louise, Audrey, Gabrielle, and…” She snapped her fingers. “Where’s Sarah?”

“In the washroom,” said the one named Louise, pointing to the closed door.

“Got it.” Hand still guiding you, Rey turned you toward the door and walked you through the locking mechanism and how to get up to the main house, if necessary. “And if anything should happen--these girls know this--pull this lever right here. It opens both grates underneath the fire place. The fire is always burning. After you pull it, you all must escape through the piping in the washroom.” She looked over the room again. “You all remember that?”

The other woman called out their assent. Rey nodded, gripped your shoulder.

“I’ll leave you to get comfortable. There’s a set of clothes underneath one of the open beds. We’ll probably be serving dinner in a few hours. We bring it down here. I hope that’s okay.”

You shifted on your feet, crossing your arms. “So… I’m stuck down here, now?” Shadows stretched across the concrete floors, the tap lights too pitiful to banish them.. “Great.”

Her face fell. “I know. It’s not ideal. But…” She sighed. “Our primary goal is to keep you all safe until transport. We’ve smuggled out dozens of Handmaids with our protocols the way they are.”

“Yeah.” You nodded.

The knowledge that Ren would soon know you were gone was crushing you tighter than the walls themselves. You couldn’t imagine him honestly razing everything within 100 miles just for you--after all, you were just a Handmaid--but then you recalled the last time you’d spoken with him. The ache in his eyes. The despair.

Not one like you.

You haunt me.

A chill cast over your intestines, goosebumps sweeping over your flesh. Your tongue was dry. “When did you say the transport was, again?” You tried to wipe your sweating palms on your skirts.

Rey’s nose twisted in consideration. “We have a contact willing to collect a shipment at the end of the week. So it probably won’t be for a few more days.”

You coughed, trying to clear the dust from your throat. You hoped you’d last that long. “Okay.”

“Everyone all right?” Rey asked, casting a glance across the room. When no one responded, she grinned, and left through the iron door, sealing it tight behind her.

A long, heavy sigh left you, and you turned back to the room, again meeting the anxious gazes of the other women. You shuffled over to an empty bed, reaching underneath it, finding, to no surprise, a pair of baggy jeans and a large sweatshirt. You sat down with a loud squeak, mattress deflating like marshmallow underneath you. Every bed in here was covered with mismatched sheets, the frames combinations of screwed together steel bars and wooden slats.

You regarded the set of clothing with some degree of confusion. The thought of putting them on your body seemed foreign. Wrong. The red dress of your captivity didn’t seem right, either, but at least it was familiar.

“I promise that once you put that stuff on, it feels so much better.” One of the women approached you--the one named Audrey. Her dark hair was short. Very short. She must have cut it the second she was free. “It’s totally weird at first, though.”

“Yeah.” The sweatshirt was grey, stained, with colorful stripes across the chest area that had faded with time. “I don’t really want to change in front of everyone, though…”

“Don’t!” she said. “Sarah will be out in a second. You can change there.”

You nodded, glimpsing the other women watching you. “How long have you… all of you been here?”

“It’s been about a week for me,” Audrey said with a laugh. “My Commander hasn’t given a shit that I’ve been gone.”

“We both came in the middle of the night a few nights ago,” Louise said, gesturing between herself and Gabrielle. Louise had a crooked nose, and her long, blonde hair was tied in braids and piled on top of her head. “I didn’t know if she’d make it!”

Gabrielle shrugged. “You basically bullied me into it.”

“Oh, please,” Louise said. “Don’t act like you weren’t desperate to get out of Dopheld’s house.”

She sighed. “You’re right.” Gabrielle looked at you. Her eyes were dark pools. “I was just scared.”

Audrey nodded. “We were all totally scared.”

“Well,” you said. “That makes four of us.”

“Five.” Louise tilted her head toward the washroom door.

“Has anyone checked on Sarah?” Gabrielle’s nose wrinkled in concern. “She’s been in there a while.”

You blinked. “Checked on her?” It seemed rude to just… check on someone because they were taking a while in the bathroom. Everyone had their bodily struggles.

Audrey stood. “I’ll do it.” She crossed to the door, rapping it with a single knuckle. “Sarah? Are you okay?”

Frowning, your gaze switched between Louise and Gabrielle, hoping they’d provide you with some sort of context. The hesitation in their expression tightened your chest. Dread loomed over you again, a creature ready to consume.

“What is it?” you whispered. “What’s going on with Sarah?”

“Sarah got here last night.” Louise’s voice floated in the air. “She… She’s having a hard time.”

Audrey rapped again. “Sarah? Open the door, hon.”

A tiny whimper rippled from beyond the door. “Leave me alone.”

“Come on, Sare. You’ve been in there for an hour. You’ve gotta come out at some point.”

The hidden voice was tattered, like fabric with more holes than weave. “No, I don’t.”

“Yes, you do,” Louise called, frowning. “There’s a new person here. She needs to get comfortable too.”

“A new person?” A loud sniffle, and shuffling behind the door. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I didn’t know--”

Audrey stood back from the threshold. “It’s okay, hon--”

The door swung open, revealing a young woman--perhaps the youngest out of all of you--in a sleeved shirt and sweatpants, her long hair swarmed in a nest around her head, her cheeks a furious red. She sniffled again, which stoked the uneasiness in your heart, but what set it aflame was the rest of her appearance. Her hands were shredded, knuckles purple and puffy, and her right eye was an ugly, dead black, swollen shut, accompanying a massive knot at her forehead. A scab crept over a split in her lower lip.

Your jaw dropped. Sarah plodded out of the bathroom, gaze trained on the floor.

“I’m sorry,” she said, “I’m sorry, I didn’t know someone else was here.”

“Don’t--uh, don’t apologize,” you said. “I… I only just got here, so…”

She nodded, plopping down on her bed. You sought out direction from the other women, feeling helpless. To get up and just go change seemed a little sociopathic at the moment.

Audrey sat next to Sarah on her bed. “How are you feeling, hon?”

Sarah shrugged. “I don’t know. I keep thinking I see him out of the corner of my eye.” She was blank, numbed to her surroundings. “My… my other eye, I mean.”

“I know.” Audrey offered a sympathetic smile, rubbing her back. “You’re free, now, though. You won’t ever have to go back to his house again.”

Something slithered from the depths of your psyche and seized you, coiling around you, strangling the air from your lungs. Guilt.

“Your… uh, your Commander did this?” Your voice was stretched like film over your throat.

Sarah peeked at you, nodded. “When he learned I wasn’t pregnant.”

Guilt now snaked its way into your vessels, stuffed you with its presence. “I… I’m really sorry.”

She shrugged, face blank once more. “I just want to be able to sleep through the night again.”

“Me too,” said Gabrielle. “I get so tired of looking over my shoulder every day.” She shivered, shaking off a memory.

“Ooh, I know.” Louise reached up and pulled her braids from their spiral. “And to never have to smell his breath again.”

“Or just see his face in general!” Audrey chuckled. “I’m tired of being called a pig.”

“A pig?” You blushed when you realized it was you that had spoken. “Sorry. That’s terrible.”

Audrey shrugged, offering a wry, pained grin. “Wasn’t as bad as when he slapped me.”

With every admission of abuse, more oxygen escaped your body. Of course, your situation was no more enviable--you knew this, logically--but there was something different about your desperate, impassioned rendezvous with Kylo Ren in comparison to these women who were literally being beaten. And worse. Kylo Ren was possessive, manipulative, controlling, perhaps even heartless--but at least you’d wanted every single finger he laid on you.

In the end, you were running because there was a dark, awful part of you that wanted more than just sex, and the battle with your desire put your life at risk. These women were running because they wanted less--less of all of it. The realization lit a match to the kindling of your guilt.

“Do other Commanders know about this?” For some reason, you wanted permission to be enraged. “That this happens?”

Gabrielle snorted. “Of course they do. Some of them even team up, if you’re unlucky enough.”

“Team up?” Your jaw tensed.

“Whatever you take that to mean,” Louise said, “that’s what it means.”

Gabrielle leaned forward, scanning you. “You can’t really be that ignorant,” she said. “You lived it, too.”

“Come on, now. Her Commander must’ve been one of the low-ranks,” said Audrey. “Who was he?”

You looked between them, face hot. The words wouldn’t come out of your mouth. You were ignorant. There was no one to blame but yourself. You’d wrapped yourself in the protective sheet of your Commander’s attention, so twisted and obsessed with your own misery you’d never taken time to truly consider his role in maintaining the system. Kylo Ren hadn’t just subjugated you--he’d subjugated all of Gilead, propped it up on false limbs and shielded it from criticism. By default, he protected each one of the men that these women were running from. By default, he was complicit in, an agent of their power. By default, he was corrupt.

By default, he deserved to be brought down.

“Hello?” Louise waved. “Anyone there?”

You snapped to attention. “Sorry!” you said. “What, uh, what was the question?”

“I just asked who your Commander was,” Audrey replied. “You don’t have to--”

“Kylo Ren,” you replied, and found yourself standing. “Please excuse me.”

“Kylo--” Gabrielle stuttered. “Isn’t he right under--”

“Yeah, he’s Commander Snoke’s right-hand man!”

“She’s his Handmaid? She got away?”

“Doesn’t that make it more dangerous for us?”

“It totally doesn’t, we’re already running.”

Your brain was too busy spinning with newfound purpose. You’d walked over to the door, hands quaking as they worked to unlock the exit as Rey had instructed. Behind you, the other Handmaids were chattering, their stares like weights on your back. Blood rushed by your ears, pulse thumping at your temple, beating with a burgeoning power. The door opened, and you slipped beyond it, holding your breath through the hot tunnel to the main house. Your limbs were moving faster, shoving open the hatch, punching away the heavy rug, and you scrambled out, tripping over your feet as you stumbled through the house.

“Rey?” you called. “Finn? Poe?”

It was strange, how threatening silence could be in this world. You crossed through the den, peeking around the corners, searching like a hound. There was something boiling inside you, like a geyser, ready to explode through your skin, wrench you apart with its insistence. You could feel the words on your tongue, taste them, and they were begging to be given life, to find release.

“Rey!” you shouted up the stairs. “Finn! Poe!”

Still no response. Dread again, descending onto your shoulders, hijacking your heart, your breath coming faster, cycling through your lungs. If something had happened, making a ton of noise likely wouldn’t help. You sucked in a deep breath. You hadn’t checked outside. Gathering your skirts, you slunk to the back door, popping the locks and prying it open, inch by inch. Voices hit your ears. You froze. You couldn’t see them--they were around the corner, in the garden.

“We did rush the transport.” It was Finn. Relief tugged at your mind--but he sounded concerned. “The contact still says they won’t be able to make it for another 48 hours.”

“Dammit.” That was Poe. “And no response from bunker?”

“They’re full,” a voice you recognized as Rey’s replied. “They just took in another on emergency.”

“Shit!” A frustrated sigh escaped him. “I thought we’d at least have half a day to figure out where we’d move her.”

Your stomach flipped. Her. You?

“Well, this is Ren we’re talking about,” Finn replied. “We knew how he might get.”

Now your stomach lurched. Yes, you.

“We still have a few hours,” said Rey. “According to our intel, he’s only just now received report his Handmaid was taken off the streets for re-education. Even assuming he abandons his post, he’ll still need to figure out she never made it to a Red Center and find out who took her.”

More nagging guilt. How hard they were working, just to keep you safe. To keep you from him.

“Should we file the missing report to the Eyes?”

You didn’t want to be rude. But new guilt was morphing, too, liquefying to rage in your belly.

“I’m already on it.” Finn sighed. “Let’s just go with the plan as-is, for now. We don’t know what his intentions are. He might not even come here.”

Your fists clenched. You wanted him to.

“This would’ve been so much easier if she had agreed to work with us,” Poe mumbled.

You trembled, roiled through with fury for the women in the basement, for your saviors, for Johana and Emma and Rose, for--hell, yourself. All of you pinned underneath the monstrosity built by Ren and the Commanders like him, some of you struggling with trembling knees, others collapsing, devoured by the machine as they strained to support its weight. Taking a deep breath, you stepped into the backyard.

Rey sighed. “Well, she didn’t--”

“Wait.” Your voice was cold and foreign. Finn, Poe, and Rey turned the corner from the patio, mouths parted in shock. “I’ll do it.”

A smile cracked Poe’s face. “You will?”

“Really?” Rey grinned.

“Yes. I’ll do it. I’ll be your spy.”

A flock of birds scattered from the yard, taking off into the dusky sky.

#kylo ren smut #kylo ren x reader #kylo x reader #kylo ren imagine #kylo ren #kylo trash #handmaid au #little bird #fanfiction problems

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lgchunji · 4 years

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✧ .・゜゜hello, lgc admods!

chwe hunji and jin eunji’s leaf wants to say: “hey admods! i know this may look a little sudden and a little weird but by the time you see this, i’ve been going around asking all the members what they want to say to you guys to show their appreciation! i know admin e probably already told you, but i used to do theater for about two years and i volunteered my time. i probably worked fifteen-thirty hours a week at a theater and i did not get paid and barely was thanked but i always put in effort. i gave them one hundred percent of myself and, if i was lucky, i would get a five dollar starbucks gift card in return. i was so exhausted and even stopped writing because i could not handle how much of myself i was losing every day. i gave a hundred percent of myself away and got five percent back. now, though, with legacy, everything has been flipped! you guys put a hundred ten percent of yourselves into this amazingly fun and honestly complicated place and i feel like i never get to give back. i know the joy of it all is in watching people write together but for me, just having fun was not enough, i wanted to compile something together for you guys! you do so much for us so i thought it was time i give just a sliver of myself back to you. so! under the cut is a lot of people’s messages that i’ve gathered. a lot of members were unable to send in something in time so i do apologize that not everyone is here, but i added a space in the bottom for anyone and everyone who wants to add something at a later date, so admins and members, be sure to check that often! in the meantime, though, you guys are so amazing and this place already means so much to me, i really hope legacy can continue to grow and flourish beyond your guys’ dreams because you really deserve it! p.s. the below notes are not in any particular order of length or alphabetized, they’re just random C:”

han insoo’s al wants to say: “thank you for your kindness and dedication. you guys are troopers. i’m not very vocal about things publicly out of shyness but also bad experiences. i hope you guys know i appreciate to be here and that you guys have kept this up for so long despite the setbacks. it’s been a while since i felt comfy in a directory. much hugs and kithes!! thank you for being so open and welcoming!” kang yonghwa and choi daehyung’s muffin wants to say- "thank you so much for all of the hard work! legacy is not an easy rp to run with all these career branches and events going on. i appreciate all of the mods for making this rp extra special by celebrating birthdays, holidays and other occasions. I love you all muahhhhhh~" liu jiao and ok miyoung’s faye wants to say- “i disappeared from the rp scene for awhile and was kind of lost when it came to fitting back into everything. but joining legacy helped me along and i am so glad i decided to put my muse here. thank you to all the mods and for all of their hard word. i felt so welcomed by not only them, but the other members of the directory as well. so thank you for the lovely community you’ve brought together here. i am happy to say that legacy holds a special place in my heart.” yoon shinha and pongsak, tee's simone wants to say: “when i first joined legacy it was because i had some friends here and i had read about it a lot on twitter. i was nervous and scared, which is how i usually feel when joining a new place. working on my own points page from scratch was a first but i was proud of myself and i felt accomplished when i finished it. i joined as a connection and it gave me a boost when it came to plotting. everyone was so nice and welcoming and i honestly love that when joining a new directory. the events were many and i was both excited and scared at how many there were. even if i couldn't understand something i knew i could ask an admin or mod and would get a quick reply. i love how kind and supportive the staff is. i've been here for a few months now and i always recommend it to others. i know that no matter what, i can go to a staff member with a question and i don't need to feel stupid for asking something bc the staff are so helpful and understanding. the thought that goes into this roleplay and the events are amazing and i am honestly so amazed every time a new event gets posted. they give sufficient time frames for events and i know they try to make it as fair as possible. i honestly love it here and i love the hard work and the time that is put into legacy.” park taekyung and heo jane’s bobbi wants to say: “thank you for taking the time to create this awesome community! the time and effort you put into this rp is what makes it such a fun place and i hope that this post brings you just as much joy as you bring us! <3" mayura nana’s cc wants to say: “i’ve been on and off in the group, seeing the first time it opened and how hard working the admins were to coming back and seeing the amount of growth in just a few months. i truly appreciate all that you guys have done for your members, the patience and love you put into every little thing you do so everyone can develop and enjoy themselves. you guys make this rp fun and safe and i’m forever grateful to have found a true home for my muse. keep up the good work and i can’t wait to continue being here and witnessing even more love and growth from the team ❤️” park seojin, im hana and kang seyoon’s sara wants to say: “hello lovely team. it's been a great ride thus far and i'm so happy to have been here from the beginning to see the community grow. you've built a really nice and wholesome place here and it's been one of the best roleplays i've been in so far. it's hard running things but always remember that people love and respect you and so many of us are rooting for good things every day. you're human too and if you make a mistake, never beat yourself up over it. you keep things so much fun. truly nothing more i could ask of from a team. i’ve sent other messages in the past but there's really no limit to the praises and support i can offer to you guys. keep up the good work!! ♡♡” wu aaron and kim alex’s em (aka the awkward cookie) wants to say - "to the amazing admins of this rp, i haven't been here nearly as long as others but i really enjoy having my muses here! i love lgc so much and you're all amazing admins who work very hard to keep this place running with amazing events! keep up the great work and i can't wait to see what else you all have planned! (please torture alex as much as you can. xD) i don't think i've really talked to the admins here much but still, i love you all and everything you do! <3 please don't let any negative comments or reviews get to ya'll and just know you're all doing great!" choi jongsuk, son jieun, and kim jinah‘s jen wants to say - "@ the mod team from your resident meme! you guys know how much i love lgc. i'm not shy annoying y'all with compliments and praise. every sunday is a highlight because there is always something exciting being posted- be it just a date lottery update or new events; you never fail to surprise and spoil us all with fun and creative ideas! also the way you manage to keep things as fair as possible for everyone and still manage to not make anyone feel left out or left behind. the quick replies to any kind of questions are just so nice to see and it makes me personally not scared ever to ask anything at all no matter how stupid the question may be! i probably annoy y'all with how often i said this already but i love this rp. i love the graphics, the concept and the execution of it all. thank you for creating this amazing space for all of us to write and hopefully to many more years! true to my name i shall exit on a meme~" hwang subin and han allie’s nic wants to say - “hello admins!!! it's me, a nic. i know that i've said a lot of this in the past but to sum it all up, i love you guys!! thanks for giving me a place to feel a bit more comfortable when i don't feel that way in rp a lot lately. i love that you guys are always gracious and accepting of criticisms, questions, and critiques and i hope you continue to always be that way because i think it's important for rps to listen to their members. i also want you to know that you don't have to stand for rudely stated words just because you do that, either!! i appreciate the time you take to answer my questions, whether it be through the manager blog or through discord and for all the opportunities you've given my muses ( even if ONE of them might not be so grateful. i'm lookin at u subin ) so yeah ;u; i hope u all are having a lovely day, pls take care!!!” tsai sunisa, park sarang, and jung jihye’s the ghost rper wants to say - “number one, thank you for making legacy an rp! i'm having a lot of fun with all of muses! especially since it's given me a chance to bring muses i've played before alive in another rp. two, they're [the admins] awesome for all of the stuff they've managed to do for the group and how many options you have to be apart of the industry and do more background related stuff! third, just stay awesome and remember to put yourself before rp! since without ya'll we wouldn't be here!” min soyoun and kim jinseo‘s clara wants to say - "hi mods! thank you for making lgc a fun and safe haven for us. i appreciate the love, thought, and effort you all put in every single mission/event that happens in the roleplay. you guys are doing amazing!" kwon sihyun‘s shinobi wants to say - “thank you for making me feel welcome!” park iseul and ahn dohyun’s nine wants to say - “thank you so much for all your hard work! over the months i've been at lgc i've always felt like the admods have kept every single muse in mind when creating events and moulding the rp to fit the members. i've never felt as in love with an rp as i do now. keep up the good work, i can't wait to see the rp grow more and more!” choi max and im nari‘s jada wants to say - “hi there mods !!! i didn't want this whole appreciation to go by without saying some words of my own, so here i go ! when i joined legacy a few months back i was hesitant to even join, doubting that i'd want to stay to make it even past the next activity check. it was an act of pure impulse, but perhaps the best thing i could've done ! alongside the many great friends i've made along the way, if it was not for all the hard work you do, the roleplay would not be nearly as lively of a universe as we've all made it to be ! i always compliment legacy for the dedication you all clearly have to making it enjoyable - from events going on all the time, to in-character posts that liven the spectrum of our creativity, to your speedy responses and patience whenever we have trouble ! i think me and the rest of the members can agree that what you do makes us enjoy the roleplay even more, and we always will be appreciative of that !! i think you guys run the roleplay SO smoothly at times that we forget the hard work you put in and the bumps you might encounter along the way, but it's times like this that make me realize how much more we should thank you. because of the team behind it all, i've once again found my place in a roleplay that's made me feel at home, and always ready to write and have fun !! i'm extremely grateful for the passion you've shown us and i hope that i too can do my best to make sure your hard work pays off and give thanks ! i'm looking forward to writing with all of you and giving a voice to our muses for as long as i'm able to type, haha ! <33 “ ahn yeoreum’s kay wants to say - "my first experience with krp wasn't exactly the best. i didn't land myself in the most welcoming environment and was planning to never join another krp. but i took a chance in lgc and didn’t regret it. since day one, everyone has been so welcoming and i loved playing yeoreum here. the admods have worked so hard to make this such a nice environment to rp in and i love how well thought-out all the events and activities are. thank you so much, admods !! we are super lucky to have such a talented and hard-working team. <3″ ji haneul’s maddy wants to say - “to legacy admods uwu, thank you for your endless hard work! seeing how the community has grown over the last few months, as well as the tons of opportunities for character development has made my time here absolutely amazing. i just want to say how much i love the rp, and how inspiring it can be in churning my writing muses. keep up the good work, and i hope you guys would also be able to have as much fun as the work you've put in in maintaining the rp! take care, stay safe, and stay awesome >:D *flings plushies in your directions* ♡" lee seungjae’s fifi wants to say - "hello admods!!! i just wanted to say thank you for everything that you've done for lgc! i haven't been here long but everything about it is great and i can tell you've put in so much work to make it the great place that it is!" kang dana‘s jay wants to say - “thank you so much for working so hard on this roleplay and allowing all of our characters to develop however we like! i have never enjoyed a rp as much as this one <3" hwang jaerim and im hyunjin’s jia wants to say - "hello admod team, yall know im always here to bother u all with my weirdness and you guys are all great to talk to. i've been lucky enough to have been here since day 1 and to see this place flourish and see all the efforts you put into the rp, makes me glad to be here. thank you!!" oh max and park viggo’s lyn wants to say - "as one of those muns that has been in legacy from the very beginning, i've witnessed this rp grow and i can’t help but to feel extremely proud and happy for the admod team who works tirelessly to make sure that the progress isn’t only with the rp but genuinely with the muses within it. the admins take it into their own hands to celebrate the achievements that muses have obtained and put them on the spotlight, personally i've experienced screaming and getting emotionally overwhelmed with some of the mods at how happy and ecstatic i felt with some of the results for my muses. with that said i want to make it clear that my muses don’t always get what they want, when it happens, i do share some down time with said mods as well- not to complain but to just talk. the same happens vice versa, when the mods' muses don’t get a spot in future dreams or didn’t get the center of a group, or when they land a cf spot or has made progress by moving on a different path, i'm able to witness their reactions as muns as well- which quite frankly is humbling considering that it reminds me that their muns too and not just mods. essentially what i'm trying to say is that based on my experience and mine alone although i have no doubt i'm not the only one who feels this, clearly this post proves it, that the admod team is not just there to provide us with countless numbers of events or answer our endless amount of questions and woes with admirable patience or guide us in the right direction when we misplace a point or two in our submits, but rather to present us muns with a safe and progressive platform to comfortably establish and allow our muses to flourish in a highly entertaining environment. so thank you legacy team for your heartwarming and admirable work, i know this hasn’t been easy for you guys but hang in there, a lot of us got your backs ♡"

these are the folks who wanted to add something after this post was first published:

no one at the moment! if you want to say something to our lovely admins please either message them through the lgckrp askbox or, if you’re more shy, send me an IM or send it to lgchunji’s askbox with your message in quotations, which blogs you run, and your name/alias!

#lgckrp #( oof hope they see this lol )#✧ .・゜゜leaf talks

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spyvstailor · 4 years

Text

GRAVEYARD DIRT & SALT

CHAPTER ONE

So, it was brought to my attention people might not like the links to my novel, so I will be posting chapters here on tumblr as well. But please, don’t forget to head over to my KO-FI, and support an author.

Chapter One

Sometime in Summer 2014

The first sign that troubled times were upon them was the empty shelves in the toilet paper section of all the grocery stores.

There was no rhyme or reason to this and society fell too fast for top psychologists or sociologists to chime in with their two cents as to the reason why people thought toilet paper would save them during the troubled times.

The next thing to break down after the panic shopping were the roads and the highways.

If you think about the population of the earth, six billion and change, and growing each day. If you think about the population of the US alone, all of them fleeing the chaos of the cities and towns. Then you'd understand why the roads were the first to go to shit.

Humans run on instinct, their lizard brains demand fight or flight. But when they didn't know what exactly they were fighting, when they heard news reports of an epidemic. Stories of people dying and coming back running on pure animal hunger, their first instinct was to flee.

They've seen the movies, played the video games, entertained the idea of the dead rising up and walking the earth with their insatiable hunger. As humans, they knew what this meant. It meant the end of civilization as they knew it. No more cell phones, no more magazines, and no more internet. It was chaos and it was confusion.

Back when HQ was up and running. Back when the marines at the base were still receiving orders. When 'task forces' were being sent into hospitals and morgues, schools, churches even. All the places humans congregated in times of trouble to take care of the sweeping epidemic. Back when governments and commanders were still in control, the first thing to fall to the dead were the roads and the highways.

The highways were veritable buffets for the hungry horde. Panicked people just stuck in traffic, idiots who thought the threat wasn't real and were still out trying to get to their local fucking bar. They became a meal for the horde, delicious, soft, warm, living flesh.

After the roads and highways fell to the dead, the government sort of disappeared. There was no structure because the officials all sort of went the way of the one percent. Disappearing in the smoke of the burning society around them.

The next thing to fall was the media. It was all over the place, reports of the dead walking, reports of the one percent disappearing. With their need to know and to be on the scene, many stations began to mysteriously replace their reporters. Reporters changed, their faces different from hour to hour. Until in the end, all that remained was a single, sweaty, panicked looking young intern.

After the media went the churches, the mosques, the synagogues, even that real fancy cult place in Hollywood.

When faith failed, then everything just sort of fell away.

In the days just after the initial outbreak, he was still a marine stationed at HQ in Georgia. He still followed orders. Still went where they told him to go, did what they told him to do. But after a few weeks, the lines of communication went down. HQ went cold, dark. One by one his squad had left him, either picked off by a lucky uggie or just plain run off in the night.

Sixteen marines had set out from HQ. Thirteen marines had gone off to protect and serve the civilians of the state, and all that remained of that squad was him.

The men who had left in the night were just heading home, he assumed. And to be honest, the Lieutenant didn't blame them. The more they patrolled from small town to small town, the more he realized there was no one left alive to protect. The last orders he had received had been to keep clear of the major cities, that HQ had fallen, and then silence.

Hell, until a few months ago, he had assumed he was the only couyon left alive on earth.

Didn't matter. Everything he had he left back home in Eunice, Louisiana. And that was all inanimate and cold and long-buried in the ground, nothing that could warm him on dark nights anyhow.

For months, he walked the highways and the roads, just off in the woods in the shadows of the leaves and trees. He did his duty, killing as many of the damned as he could.

Didn't bother him much, he was recon, trained to do whatever needed doing. Improvise, adapt, and overcome.

He saw a lot from his place in the woods. He saw men and women trying and failing to survive, the dead roaming, ambling about by the handfuls. Great herds of them shuffling across the blacktop like cattle going down the Chisholm Trail.

There seemed to be no end to the uggies. Everywhere he went there they were. Old folks, young folks, mothers and fathers, sisters and brothers. Hell, he had seen a bride one time in her pretty white gown just wandering around.

The longer he survived in the land of the dead, the more he forgot what other humans, real humans, sounded like. He was beginning to go a little nutty if he was honest. It had been months since he last saw someone who seemed alive, and even they looked like they were on their way out. Tired, sickly, starving maybe. A shadow that had appeared and disappeared so fast he wasn't entirely certain they were real.

So he drove further back from the roads, deeper into the Georgian woods.

He did well there, flourished even. Hunting, fishing in the river, killing uggies at an easy pace. Every day, he lay his head in a different spot, never staying still too long, never growing attached to anything.

It was there, in the middle of the sylvan woods of Georgia, that he came upon a high, grey stone wall, beyond which towered an old looking church. There were some equally dated-looking buildings surrounding it.

At first, he thought it was a compound of sorts. Maybe some of those good ol' Georgian boys who had it in their mind to form their own militia. A ragged group of NRA enthusiasts with too much ordnance and not enough brains or balls.

When he had scaled the wall out of morbid curiosity, to perch high and get his bearings, he was startled to find a handful of nuns working in a vegetable garden below. At the time they didn't notice him as he perched on their wall. They seemed too intent on gathering the bounties of their good-sized garden, safe, and almost cocky behind their wall.

With his rifle shouldered, he had watched them at work, amazed to find life so deep in the woods. Feeling like a man who had just witnessed a miracle, an angel, a vision.

Sitting at ease on the high, eight-foot wall, the Lieutenant watched the ladies in their garden for the longest time, entranced by the simple beauty of their work and their pretty flowing habits that swished when they walked, before he settled his pack beside him to open it up for a snack of dried nuts he had found in the Piggly Wiggly in Blackshear.

It had been so, so long since he had observed actual human beings moving and chatting, laughing and living, that he seemed to forget where he was and he was only just a little hungry so he thought he'd have himself a snack while he watched them work.

It wasn't until one of them, the only one who wore all white, glanced up and spied him on the wall.

Her face was one of serene, simple beauty. Clear blue eyes, a classic beauty that would give Vivian Leigh a run for her money and a hard, almost stern look which changed from placid to startled at the sight of him on their wall. She dropped the basket of potatoes she was carrying to wash at the water pump just past his position and took a quick step back.

Shouldering his rifle slowly, he held up his hands to show her he was defenseless and offered her a smile he hoped was as charming as he wanted it to be.

She stared, gawped at him for the longest time, delicate brows knitting, lips trembling like she wanted to say something.

“Now hold on, I'm not here to stir the nest.” He cautioned as the woman took small, dainty steps back from him.

The other Sisters now noticed him and wavered between moving to protect the one close to him and fleeing into the shelter of their convent buildings.

He studied them quietly for a moment, almost as though he thought they were a figment of his imagination, a lie, a mirage on the horizon.

“My name is Lieutenant Layfayette Vancoughnett of the United States Marine Corps,” he greeted in a voice rusty from disuse. Had it been what? A month? Two months since he last said anything to anyone. “I'm charged with protecting the citizens of this country from the epidemic of the dead.”

The woman nearest him looked at him with hard, steely eyes, unwavering and unimpressed, but still, she said nothing.

“I'm not here to hurt any of you,” he went on. “I'm here to offer aid and assistance to any survivors.”

“We have a front gate for a reason,” the woman suddenly scolded him in the prettiest Southern Belle accent he had ever heard. Straight out of an old movie about Southern Belles and their airy, sweet fiddle-dee-dees.

Now, when the Lieutenant was a boy he used to stay up late and watch the old late-night showings of movies on Channel 15. He loved those old pictures, the actresses and actors were always far much more elegant than anyone he had ever met. Even dirty, even rugged and sun-scorched in Westerns and historical war films, they always looked so much more.

This woman, as soon as she opened her mouth, had him yearning for those old films. She had him thinking of Atlanta burning and cotillions and balls of the American South and the Civil War. She had him thinking of Scarlett and Rhett.

Recovering from the nostalgia of his youth, and feeling as though she had slapped him, the Lieutenant blinked at her for a moment. It had been a few months since he heard words coming from the mouth of someone rational, so he had to think whether he said something rude.

“Do y'all know what's going on beyond these walls?” He asked.

The woman wiped a smudge of dirt across her cheek with her wrist and sighed. “Are you here for trouble or to be a spider on my wall? Because I have no time for leering men peering down at me and my nuns like we're chocolate pie at the Easter picnic.”

Hopping down into the inner convent grounds, the Lieutenant grinned crookedly and took a step towards the woman in white. “Was I leering? Aw, Missy, that was not my intention. It's only that it's been a long, long, very long while since I've seen a living, breathing person.”

Wincing as she backed away from him, the woman frowned delicately, her mouth drawing in a thin line. Behind her the other nuns were gathering, they seemed less intimidating than the one in pure white. But she still remained resolute before him, the top of her head only coming up to his shoulder.

“I think you should leave,” the woman suggested.

“Is there really no one left alive?” One of the young nuns in a blue dress asked. She didn't wear a full veil like the older nuns, her skirts reached to mid-calf, black stockings and shoes hiding her feet and legs from sight.

“Not that I've seen. Then again I've been keeping myself clear of the major cities, could be some, could be less than some, could be none.”

“Please,” the woman in white said. “Just leave. We don't want trouble.”

“Maybe we could offer him some food and at least a place to rest for the night?” An older nun suggested. “We all were strangers in Egypt, Mother Mena.”

“Sister Mary Agnes, go inside, take the others.” The woman in white said firmly.

“Now, don't be so hard on them,” the Lieutenant amended. “I'm leaving. I didn't mean to shake things up. Just wanted to perch on your wall a little and take a rest.”

Hopping back up onto the eight-foot wall with a little trouble, he managed to collect his things with some dignity, before giving the women below him one last look.

The leader, at least he assumed she was in charge, raised her chin a little and gave him a real hard look, her pretty, clear blue eyes narrowing a little in a silent challenge. Her pretty little starlet looks, that soft edge of the dying breed of the American South, the Southern Belle, the debutante, hard as steel under velvet was all enough to make him reconsider stirring trouble. She looked like she'd take his eyes out without a second thought, like a she-wolf protecting her young.

Nodding, he leaped back down off their wall, heading for the little camp he had made for the day.

He had returned to what he did best for the next few days, killing uggies and scrounging for supplies. Surviving like a shell of a man, staggering around, putting down the dead, eating whatever he could find, it was a hollow life he had now and it had only just come alive again at the sight of those nuns.

Every now and then he thought of those nuns in their walled-in convent and it sparked life back into him. He worried about them, which was something he missed about people. Caring about them, whether they lived or died. He had become like a man trying to preserve the last of the endangered little critters, only with nuns and it renewed in him a purpose.

For at least two weeks he resisted the urge to return, not wanting to harass them. But he was a weak man and that drum that pounded in his chest told him 'go back, go back, go back'. And those grey stone walls of the convent seemed to draw him like a magnet to metal.

They weren't in their garden when he finally managed to pull himself onto the wall, using a tree and a lot of long reaches, but he remained on the wall for a bit, hoping to spy one of them. He just needed to know they were okay, that he hadn't imagined them.

He sat on that wall so long that before he knew it, it was beginning to get dark, and he realized he had to go find some sort of place to hunker down for the night, a tree or an old foxhole, something tucked away enough for him to rest up.

Pulling out a bottle of Aspirin and a box of feminine pads he kept in his pack, the former for pain, the later for emergency bandages, he left them on his spot on the wall just opposite the back door to a long, rectangular building, as a sort of offering, before he slipped down and back into his woods.

Slumping against the side of a house, he sunk down beside the latest uggie he had killed and sighed. Everywhere you went they were there. The dead, the uggies, the creatures he did his best to avoid calling zombies.

Zombies weren't real. They were movie monsters brought to life with CGI and latex.

These things, these uggies, they were something else entirely. They were infected, they were rotting. Some kind of nerve damage? Maybe they weren't dead. He didn't know. He just killed them before they tore him apart. Because they sure did have rage and hunger to them that wasn't normal. An entire group of them could tear a man apart in less than a minute.

Sighing, he looked over at the young man he had put down.

It hadn't occurred to him that before the nuns, he was lonesome. The Lieutenant was a social creature by habit, he enjoyed a good story and a better joke, but he had grown used to nothing and no one but the dead.

Now, knowing there were living people out there somewhere, people who didn't fire first, who didn't want what he had, or hate that he was untouched by the dead, knowing that somewhere in the Georgian woods were potential companions, had him distracted from the rut he had fallen into.

It was the same old thing, day in and day out. Wake up, crawl out from wherever he had bunkered for the night, kill some uggies, scrounge for some food and supplies, hunt if the food wasn't available, dig down like a tick for the night and do it all over again.

His pack was getting heavy with things he needed to survive, his boots were worn thin, nearly to the sole of his foot itself. He had slogged his way north, south, east, and west, but always somehow came back to the area surrounding the convent.

He needed some company, just a little chat with someone who didn't drool or moan, or at least didn't drool and moan until he bought them some dinner.

The farmhouse he had stumbled onto was a rundown shack, very little in uggie activity, but replete with goodies.

Digging through the pantry, he stuffed jar after jar of pickles, jams, and preserves into his pack, until his pack was too full for any more.

So he ducked outside to bury most of his found treasure, in case anyone else came upon his goldmine, he wanted some things left for himself. It was a dog eat dog sort of world now and while burying his treasure seemed juvenile, it would prove handy come crunch time when everything had been picked over and gone through. When nothing remained of the old world but trash and canned peas.

Finding an old water pump, he helped himself to some well water and settled down to clean up some, shaving the itchy goddamned stubble away and rubbing stains out of his uniform where uggies had spewed their nasty fluids all over him like some goddamned reject from a devil possession movie.

Ducking back into the house before he left, he stuffed the last of the jars of food into his pack and zipped it shut.

He had enough jam and jelly and pickled veggies to get him through some rough times and in a few more months winter would be upon him and those preserves would really matter.

Just as he was about to head out from the location, he spied some seed packs sitting on a windowsill in the mudroom and slowed down enough to read them.

As it did lately, his mind wandered to the nuns and their garden. So he snatched up the seed packs, stuffing them into his trouser pockets, before leaving the farmhouse.

Climbing onto the convent wall later that afternoon where he had found it easiest to climb, just opposite the back door of the rectangular building, he began his search for life, before pulling out a few jars of preserves to give up to the nuns as an offering. He stacked the jars in such a way as to create a sort of cairn, inside which he tucked the seeds, safe from birds.

He sat for a few more hours on the wall, before climbing down and slinking off into the forest with no nun in sight.

It would be another day of same ol', same ol'.

There was a small farm just on the outskirts of the woods, near the river where he had decided to make camp for the night.

It had been left pretty much alone, way out in the backroads as it was.

There were only four uggies, huddled around the carcass of some unfortunate kitty cat, eating their meal with all the greed of a biblical King, fattening themselves on kitty cat meat.

It was awful of him to think it, but humans he could abide, but a kitty cat being killed? It just sort of stabbed at him in his soft spot.

Standing over the five bodies, four humans, and one small feline, the Lieutenant realized how messed up it was that he had more sympathy for the cat than the humans. But the poor thing was small and easy prey, humans had the luxury of size and warfare tactics.

With a string of fish he had caught in the river waiting to be fried over an open flame and a hungry belly, he ignored the corpses in favour of setting up on the far side of the farmyard, building himself a nice fire to fry his fish dinner.

They sort of haunted him though, the corpses always did. It seemed unnatural, even to a marine, to just leave the dead out in the open as he did. There was never any time to really dispose of them though and to burn them meant the risk of the smoke being seen by other less friendly humans or smelled by the dead.

Huddled over the old frying pan he kept hanging from his pack, he tended to his dinner with care.

At first, he didn't hear it or it didn't register to him as a threat. He was so used to hearing only three things, the dead shuffling, the dead groaning, or absolute and terrifying silence.

But as he cooked, he began to tune back into the world around him.

Over the crackle of the fire and the sizzle of the fish, he heard a soft mewling, muffled it seemed, by distance or objects.

At first, worried about the dead not staying dead, he glanced over at the heap of corpses in the growing twilight, making out just dark shadows. Removing his pan from the flame, he set it aside in favour of wandering towards the heap, nervous. Scared the kitty cat was going to pop back up and get him with one well-placed chomp.

He had never seen the virus or whatever it was infect animals, but he knew somehow his dumb Cajun ass would be the first.

Hell, if zombies were real, maybe he'd turn into a werecat or something.

As he headed towards the heap, the mewling grew softer, quieter. He was putting more distance between himself and the sound.

He continued on, though, kneeling by the corpse of the poor unfortunate cat, reaching down to sort through the gore the dead left, feeling the swollen teat of a mother cat.

“Shit,” he swore.

There were kittens somewhere.

Standing up, he looked around.

Beyond his fire, was a barn, he figured that would be ideal for a nest, so he headed towards it.

Passing by the fire, he heard the mewling grow louder, but not much, so he stopped at his pack and pulled out a flashlight.

Entering the dark barn, he shone the light around cautiously. He was weaponless, but there was no real threat of the dead, the door had been latched securely.

Inside the barn, the stench of death was strong, but he figured it was coming from the heap that lay in one of the stalls.

“Poor baby,” he murmured.

Whatever it was, horse or cow, it had rotted where it dropped.

God. As cold as it seemed, he could handle human death, it was familiar and sometimes necessary, but the death of an animal always got him.

The sound was louder in the barn, but he couldn't exactly place it.

He walked the aisle up and down, looking in stall after stall.

His growling stomach called him back to the fire and his fish, but every time he considered selfishly going back for dinner, the kittens would call him and they sounded hungrier than him.

It broke his heart.

“Where are you, babies?” He called out, knowing no answer would come.

It seemed like an hour he spent, tearing apart square straw bales and looking in the cracks between wooden slats in the stalls and in the manager part of the stalls before he remembered most barns had a hayloft.

Shining his light upwards, he saw only wooden floorboards overhead decorated with cobwebs.

The Lieutenant was trailer park trash or at least one step up from that (which in Louisiana meant his granny had a trailer in the middle of the woods near Eunice), he had never been on a farm beyond a few times in passing, so he didn't know how the hell to get up there. He couldn't see a ladder or a staircase, but as he shone his light across the ceiling above him, he spied a part that had rotted away, near the door he had come in and moved towards it.

As he moved, in near-total darkness save for the beam of light from his flashlight, he spied a pair of glowing eyes peering down at him, before they ducked out of sight.

“Found you,” he cooed gently up at the hole.

Looking around for something to climb on so he could poke his head up into the hole to find the kitten, he came up with an old five-gallon pail and hoped to God it would be tall enough.

Wobbling a little as he climbed onto it, he realized it was still too short, so he jumped down and looked around again.

The mewling continued.

“I'll be right back, yeah?” He called up to the kittens.

Ducking outside, he began to look around the farmyard, knowing how dangerous it was to be outside at night, shining a flashlight like a beacon beckoning the dead to come home to eat. If he could find something, a ladder, or something tall enough to climb onto, he could pull himself up into the hayloft.

Throwing a bundle of dry branches onto his fire as he passed, he headed for a nearby shed. It looked like a tool shed.

The door was locked, but it didn't take much for him to kick the weathered door off its hinges.

Entering like a criminal into a bank vault, he looked around. There wasn't a ladder, but there was a riding lawn mower that looked tall enough to park under the hole. Grabbing up what looked like an old birdcage, he set it on the seat and putting the lawnmower in neutral, he clamped his teeth down on his flashlight and began to roll the machine out.

It took him a good twenty damned minutes to get it through the door of the barn and for him to crawl over the top of it before he finally managed to get his head up and into the hayloft.

That pair of shining eyes blinked at him from way, way back in the dusty, moldy hay-filled barn attic, and then another pair blinked at him and another.

“Hey,” he soothed to the babies. “Come on over here. Come on.”

After five minutes of gentle cooing, one of the kittens came close, curious about the man who had wedged himself up and into their hole.

He hoped like hell there were no dead coming at him at that moment. His bottom half was exposed and he didn't want them eating his tender bits first.

A grey and white kitten, nothing but fluff and eyes and ears touched a wet nose to his outstretched hand, before jerking back nervously.

“Hi there,” he whispered. “You're a lovely little thing, aren't you? Come on. I've never hurt an animal and I won't start today, baby.” That was a bit of a white lie, he did have to hunt and fish to survive, but he never kicked a dog and never once tossed a kitty cat out of his way.

Carefully he scooped the fluff ball up and tucked it into the birdcage. Taking that time to glance around at his surroundings for threats, he pushed the cage up into the hole and climbed up in after it.

Sniffling and sneezing due to the old straw and hay and whatever else was up there, he felt like he was going to catch at least something from it all. Cholera or something else.

Underneath his six-foot-something weight, the old floorboards groaned, so he moved cautiously, stepping only where he thought the joists underneath were.

Stopping a few feet from the other two pair of eyes, he cooed and called to them, before finally he was still enough that they cautiously came over to him, one was easy to catch, but the other retreated as he did so.

The one he had caught was a beautiful short-haired calico and she looked at him in the light of his flashlight with such big eyes that he fell in love a little.

“Hey, baby,” he greeted. “I'm not going hurt you. But mama's not coming back, so y'all gotta come with me now.”

With two kittens in the birdcage, mewling hungrily, he tried coaxing the last one over. When the short-haired grey tabby refused to come any closer, the Lieutenant realized he was going to have to go after it.

“Come on now,” he said gently. “I'm not going hurt you, baby. Catching the kitten, he carefully moved back to the cage and added him.

Taking one last look around to ensure he got all of the kittens, he headed back for the hole.

Carefully he poked his head down first before blindly emerging from the hayloft.

Seeing the coast was clear, he crawled down, bringing the kittens down with him.

Most of his fish had been consumed by the kittens, the poor things were hungry.

With a small bowl of water from the well in the cage with them, he moved everyone into the house finally, the land had grown dark a long, long time before.

Settling upstairs, he secured the door to the room he was going to bed down in, before opening the cage door and letting the kittens out.

They moved carefully around the room, inspecting everything, before launching themselves at the blanket on the bed where the Lieutenant had settled.

Dragging themselves up one by one using their claws and the blanket, they sniffed around him for a bit.

“Bedtime,” he commanded softly, picking up the little calico and smiling as she instantly began to purr. “Aren't you just the sweetest thing,” he said. “What are we going to do with y'all?”

He couldn't leave them to be eaten as their poor mama had been, but he couldn't travel around with kitties in his pack.

As with everything as of late, his mind drifted to the nuns and their high walls.

He hoped they were charitable to kittens.

Scaling the wall was never easy, but he had a system at this point.

There was an old gnarled oak tree just behind the convent, close enough to the wall that if he leaped from a thick lower branch and kept his balance he could make the wall.

It was a little more dangerous with a cage full of kittens, but he managed to make the jump safely.

Once upon the wall, he realized, however, that he had no escape plan with a heavy pack and a cage of precious cargo. He couldn't just jump down, the kittens would get jostled too badly, but he didn't see any other option.

Just as he was considering the physics of jumping, he spied a flash of white appear from the back door of the large rectangular building beside the church.

A nun had emerged, a laundry basket in her hands.

Not wanting to startle her, the Lieutenant let loose a low, soft whistle to get her attention.

It failed, the nun still jumped a little, dropping her basket of clothes.

“Sorry,” he whispered, pointing to the kittens in the cage hurriedly as an explanation.

Exhaling a relieved breath, the nun hurried over to stand below him on the wall.

Kneeling, he handed her the cage, explaining himself, “sorry,” he apologized again. “I found these little fellas and didn't know where else to bring them.”

The nun looked up at him with large, beautiful brown eyes and a sort of amused grin. “You're that marine, aren't you?”

He nodded. “I don't want to make trouble.”

“I know,” she returned. “Sister Gertrude has cats, so...you brought them to the right place.”

He smiled. “Good. I'll bring y'all some kitty food if I find it then.”

“You've been leaving us things,” the nun went on.

“Have they been useful?”

She nodded.

Looking up and out at the convent, he asked, “what is this place, exactly?”

“Veil of Tears of the Sacred Virgin Convent,” she said.

“Which one are you?”

The nun smiled. “Sister Dymphna.”

“Dymphna. I'm Lieutenant Vancoughnett, USMC.”

“Lieutenant.” She repeated.

They both looked up as another nun emerged from the back of the building, a laundry basket in her arms.

“You'd better go,” Dymphna said. “Mother Mena will be out soon. She doesn't want strangers in the convent.”

He nodded, watching the other nun who was approaching them cautiously. “Thank you for taking these little guys. Their mama got nabbed by a couple of the dead and I didn't want them to starve.”

Dymphna smiled. “Thank you for bringing them to us.” She hesitated, before adding. “Stay safe out there, please?”

Thinking of the nuns the next morning, he remembered his promise to Dymphna; cat food. And he recalled the town nearby had an agro-center with all manners of animal feed.

So he headed there, with no better plans for the day but wandering around and surviving.

The town had been cleared of anything living, or at least anything with a thinking, rational brain, but he still walked into it with all the caution of a man going to battle.

The dead lingered in places where people once inhabited, either because they could smell the living scent lingering or because somewhere in the backs of their rotting brains, they recalled that this was a place where they were supposed to be, like salmon returning to spawn or birds migrating.

If he was quiet enough, moved silently enough, the lingering scent of the living would mask his own and he could slip in and out without any problems.

And even though he swore he'd avoid areas that had once been heavily populated, he went into the town on a mission.

Kittens would need soft food at best, maybe a smallish bag of special kitten chow, he wasn't sure, he emptied his pack to make space for both.

The agro-center was dark and quiet, the shops always were now.

Someone had already broken the glass door wide open but had pulled a heavy, empty snack stand over the hole behind them as they left, possibly with the intention of returning for more scrounging.

The Lieutenant tread carefully once past the stand and inside, worried that maybe the stand had been pulled in behind someone entering, but determined to get his kitten food and leave. It would be an easy in and out, once he found the cat aisle.

Passing by garden aisles and chemical aisles, both raided for tools to be used as weapons and chemicals he could only imagine were to be used for bombs or other methods of self-defense from the dead, he turned down an aisle containing small appliances and barbecue equipment, following the signs overhead that pointed him towards the cat aisle, moving slowly and cautiously around each corner.

It was so far quiet and empty, but that didn't mean the next corner didn't have someone or something waiting in surprise for him.

The cat aisle was at the very back of the store, last aisle and as he glanced around the corner, he spied a small form sitting on the floor in the very corner, playing with some cat toys, her back to him.

It was a child, he realized. And she looked very much alive.

Approaching her slowly, eyes moving constantly, looking for someone who may be with her, the Lieutenant moved down the aisle, a new mission at the forefront of his mind.

If this child was alone, he had to get her out of here and to the safety of the convent, whether the nuns wanted strangers there or not.

About five steps away from the little girl, she happened to look up and over her shoulder, a cautious, searching glance, watching for the dead he assumed.

She saw him, gasped, and stood up.

Someone stepped around the corner, handgun aimed at the Lieutenant. They must have been right beside her, scrounging the endcap of the aisle.

Raising his own rifle, the Lieutenant kept it trained on the man with the child.

The two could not be any different. The small black girl wore the uniform of a Fox Scout, dirty, worn sneakers and had the sweetest, most open face he had ever seen on a child. She looked at him with big, dark eyes, before reaching up and rubbing in irritation at her button nose, tucking in behind the man.

The white man with her wore an expensive suit, brightly patterned silk shirt underneath, boots that had at one point been polished and expensive, looked dangerous and prepared to kill. His predatory look was ruined a little by how big and green his eyes were, fringed by dark lashes. Altogether with the freckles on his face adding to his boyish appeal and softening the threat if only a little made him deceptively dangerous.

They were not father and child, and yet the girl hid behind the man, trusting him to keep her safe.

For a minute the two men just stood there, guns trained on the other's face, before the Lieutenant spoke carefully, “I'll put my weapon down if you do the same.”

The man narrowed his eyes a little but kept his weapon trained on the Lieutenant.

“I'm just here for kitten food,” the Lieutenant said. “I don't want a fight.”

“Kitten food?” The man asked, almost a breathy laugh.

“If you put the gun away I'll tell you the story,” the Lieutenant lied.

Grinning, the man tilted his head and gave the Lieutenant a sort of admonishing, playful look, his mouth lifting in the right corner crookedly, before palming his pistol and raising his hands defensively. “Well now I've gotta hear this one,” he said in a tone that sounded like the man had once been born in the American South, like the distant memory of a twang was hidden just behind his calm, smooth voice.

Lowering his rifle, the Lieutenant paused for a second, watching as the man watched him, before both men put their weapons away, the man sliding his pistol back into a holster inside his suit jacket, resting it at his breast, the Lieutenant sliding his rifle onto his back.

“Was scrounging some farm,” the Lieutenant said, carefully turning from the man, keeping one eye on the two at the end of the aisle and one on the selection of canned cat food, “found some orphaned kittens.”

“And you're taking care of them?” The man almost teased. “You know the world's fucking decimated, right? Doesn't really matter.”

Giving the man and the girl with him a simple look. “Guess we both have soft hearts.”

Placing a hand on the girl's head, the man in the expensive suit tucked her behind him further, shielding her from the Lieutenant's gaze. “Don't look at her. Just get your fucking cat food.”

Both adult men, prickly and on their guard, remained in their respective spots, before the Lieutenant deferred slowly, moving down the aisle, keeping one eye on the man and the girl as he browsed for canned kitten food.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the girl tug the man down to whisper something to him, and at first, the man ignored her before he stooped a little.

Cupping her hand, the child whispered to him.

“I'm not...this isn't the time, kid.”

After a bit, the man with the child sighed deeply and asked, “how many kittens?”

“Three,” the Lieutenant said, speaking directly to the child, knowing the question came from her.

Once more the man in the fancy suit gently pushed the kid behind him fully, eyes warily on the Lieutenant.

“You her daddy?” The Lieutenant asked, finding the kitten food and dropping his pack to stuff as many cans inside as he could.

“Do I look like her fucking daddy?” The man demanded.

The Lieutenant tilted his head. “The world is a diverse place.”

The three of them were silent for the longest time, before the man said, “it's just the two of us now.”

“What are you two doing here?” The Lieutenant asked. “Is this where you hole up?”

The man scowled a little. “What the fuck do you care?”

Again the Lieutenant backed down into silence, hefting his pack back up onto his back.

“Ran into some good ol' boys a bit back,” the man in the suit supplied. “Seems the NRA survived the end of days and they're just as nasty as they were before it all went to shit. Thought it'd be best to hole up until early morning, then duck out of town.”

The Lieutenant nodded.

“You? Still serving the government?”

“I don't think so,” the Lieutenant said. “If HQ is still up and running ain't nobody told me.” Eyeing the two of them, the girl and the fancy man, the Lieutenant asked, “you got a place to be or you just moving?”

“El Dorado,” the man said simply, still on his guard. “Hey, where's your cats?”

“Pardon?”

“You got them stashed somewhere safe or you just fucking with us?”

“They're safe.”

The man nodded.

“I could think of eight better lies I could have told than kittens,” the Lieutenant said. He took one last, studious look at the two of them, before that small part in him, the one that wanted to protect people kicked in. “Why don't you two come with me? There's safety in numbers.”

Folding his arms, the man tilted his head back a little and stared hard at him, before saying, “get the fuck out of here.”

#graveyard dirt & salt #please support an author #my severance package from work was really horrible #novel #writing

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creativeskullcreations · 4 years

Text

Outside chapter 5: Nothing is that Simple

Chapter five is here y'all! Here we meet someone entirely new, and find that maybe Scout kept a few more secrets than even Stacy thought.

Also another peek into Stacy's past. Let's just say she's had a hell of a Christmas when she was twelve. >:3

Stacy typed up the back-up article, focusing on things that would turn would-be explorers away. So far it was bad structural integrity and recently used needles all over the place, with a dash of rabid rats crawling in the shadows. She'd have Will read it over later, make sure it was good enough to drive people away without attracting them. He was usually pretty good at that sort of thing, having helped her with it before.

Speaking of Will, she looked down when her phone dinged, a message flashing on the screen.

"am prking now be up soon with the goods"

"Good news Scout! Will's just parked and is on his way up. And he brought pizza!" She announced, getting up and heading into the kitchen area. "I'll go get some plates set up."

There wasn't an answer, and to be honest Stacy didn't expect one. She wondered, briefly, if maybe she was moving Scout along too fast, but dismissed the thought. 'It's only two more people, and then nobody else until next week. Surely she should be okay with that?'

She put the plates on the table, then peeked over at the couch, which was now completely empty save for the two large pillows. The corner of one pillow moved slightly, and Stacy had to suppress a snort. 'Great hiding spot there, Scout. Wouldn't ever know you were there.' She turned back to the table, placing two paper plates on opposite sides of the table, and a smaller plate beside where she would sit. As she got down a couple of cups, she heard a knock on the door. Setting the cups on the counter, she rushed to the door and unlocked it.

"Will!" She greeted, taking the bottle of Mountain Dew from him. She moved away quickly so he could enter, closing and locking the door behind him.

"Hey babe." He put the pizza box on the table between the plates, then turned to look at her, doing a double take. "What the hell happened to your mouth?"

"Long story." Stacy told him. "I'll tell you all about it after you meet Scout. Wait a second while I go get her." She went over to the couch and moved one of the pillows to see Scout ducked down, glaring up at her.

"I am not coming out!" She hissed out, trying to squeeze in behind the other pillow. "You can't fucking make me!"

"Come on, you'll like Will." Stacy insisted quietly. "He's like Sammy, but, y'know, cooler."

The Puppet just shook her head, drawing back further into the little fabric cave she'd made. Stacy simply moved the pillow and picked her up, ignoring her struggling as she brought her over to her boyfriend.

"This is Scout!" She announced, holding her out to Will. Scout stayed limp in her hands, letting her head loll to the side and keeping a blank stare on her face. Stacy felt her smile fall, but was unsure of what to do. Will leaned in, examining the Puppet.

"Ew." He said. "It's a gross, old puppet." Stacy frowned and opened her mouth, but was cut off by Scout suddenly snapping upright.

"Fucking excuse you?!" She yelled. Stacy flinched at the tone. The last time she sounded that angry had been when she'd threatened to kill her.

"OH FUCK!" He drew back, arms up like she would try and jump at his face. "It's a haunted gross old puppet!"

Scout made an offended noise, and Stacy quickly pulled her back. "Don't be rude, Will! She just hasn't had a bath yet." She looked away, unsure of what else to say. 'Should I tell her off, too?'

Will glanced from Puppet to Host, an increasingly worried look on his face. "I have to talk to you. In private. Right now." He then turned and went straight to the bedroom, not even waiting for an answer.

"Okay!" She put Scout down on the table, then turned and followed Will into the bedroom. She closed the door behind her, and was immediately grabbed by the shoulders.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?!" Will whisper-shouted. "Don't you remember what happened last time?!"

"Scout's not like... that." She told him, knocking his hands away. She crossed her arms and tried to sound firm. "She doesn't need someone to feed her or brush her or coddle her. And there isn't some haunted toy hunting us down just because she's here."

"That's not the point!" He insisted, grabbing at his hair. "You've put yourself and everyone in this building in danger by bringing it here!"

"Her, Will. I think. She hasn't actually said one way or the other." Stacy shrugged, scratching at the side of her mouth and flinching when she brushed the wounds there. "And I already told you, it's not the same! This won't be like when we were kids, Will, trust me!"

"Y'know, I would love to. But then, you did this!"

"She's not even a Waygetter!" Stacy struggled to keep her voice low. 'No need for Scout to hear this. She wouldn't understand.' "I checked. She doesn't even know the company, so she's completely safe."

"It's a haunted Puppet you found in an abandoned building!"

"Ah..." That building had not been abandoned in any sense of the word. "She's not haunted."

"Possessed, then!" Will insisted, looking desperate.

"Also a no. She's her own person, as far as I can tell." She told him. Will picked up a pillow and yelled into it. Stacy waited patiently, not even reacting to the muffled sound. "How are you so calm about this?!" He asked when he finished, pillow still smooshed to his face.

She opened her mouth, then closed it with a shrug. "I dunno. It has been a few days, though. I think I've just had time to get used to it." He growled, finally moving the pillow and clutching it to his chest. "Look, I got everything that happened all written down. If you want, you can read through it. Because it is a pretty long story."

"Fine." He ground out, dropping the pillow back on the bed. "But I'm still pissed off at you for doing this. You should know better by now."

"Yeah. I know." She gave him a kiss on the cheek. He just glared at her, though she ignored it. "Now come on, let's go eat before the pizza gets cold and the soda gets warm." She led him out of the room, only for them to pause when they opened the door.

Scout was standing on the table, one large slice of pizza hanging out of her mouth as she stared, frozen, back at them. Stacy sighed. "At least use a plate." She went over and handed the Puppet the small paper plate. She let the slice drop onto it, the tip mashed beyond belief and sauce dripping out of her mouth. Will gave the sight a disgusted look(not that Stacy could blame him). He didn't say anything about it, however, and instead went to the computer and and sat down at it. He quickly clicked over to the proper document and scrolled up to the top. "Alright Stace, let's see what happened to you..."

'I guess her teeth are pretty different...' Meanwhile, Stacy was cutting Scout's pizza up, if only to keep her from making a mess of herself. 'And she doesn't have a lot of them. It's probably good that she's watching me do this so she can know how...' "Okay, this should be good for you to eat. Please try not to make a mess of my couch. It takes forever to get it clean..."

"Yeah yeah." Scout immediately shoved two pieces into her mouth and started her open-mouthed "chewing", reminding Stacy more than a little of the Cookie Monster. To keep from laughing, she plated up another slice and poured a glass of soda for Will, who was already deep into what her and Scout had written.

"Don't strain yourself, babe." She placed the plate and cup beside him. "Mmm..." He ignored her, but did pick up the pizza and started eating it. Seeing that that was all she was going to get out of him, Stacy turned back to the table, only to see Scout had gone back to her pillow cave, taking her pizza with her. With a sigh she sat at the table, not bothering to get herself a slice.

'This is wrong. We should all be sitting here. They should like each other why don't they like each other? Did I do something wrong?' She shook her head, running her hands through her hair. 'It's fine it'll be fine. They just need time. It's not you it's not youit'snotyouit'snOTYOU' She rubbed at her eyes and suppressed a sigh. 'I need more pills.'

She stood and went over to the counter, grabbing the bottle out of the medicine cabinet. She dumped the dose in her hand and dry swallowed, immediately regretting her decision as she choked on the pills. 'That never works, idiot!' She scolded herself as she got a bottle of water and chugged from it.

'This day is a disaster. Will's mad at me. Scout's probably mad at me.' Stacy sighed, dropping back into her chair and letting her head drop onto the table. 'Fuck my life with a cactus.'

'Fuckfuckfuckfuck! Scout do you even know what you've done to us?!' A Hand Puppet with peachy skin and dark blue pigtails raced though the halls. Close behind her was something that had once been a friend, but was now just another tool of her cruel masters.

Luckily, she had been through this particular section of the warehouse enough that she had long since memorized the route. Jump to the shelf, ceiling lamp, top of the door. Drop down and crawl through and into the bucket that hid the entrance to their hiding hole. Behind her she could hear flapping wings as her pursuer flew through the doorway, thankfully too late to spot where she'd gone. Still, she waited for a moment in the entrance to be sure.

"The eldest returns with news of outside. And, perhaps, of how much longer we must hide?" The Puppet turned at the voice, finding two other Hand Puppets crawling out of the tunnel. The one that had spoken had yellow skin and orange hair, while the other had blue skin and red hair.

"Forever, Stitch! We've gotta hide forever because Scout had to be selfish!" The other one spat out. She crossed her arms and glared at the dirty floor, looking like she could kick something if she only had the legs for it.

"Would you both be quiet! Hibird's outside! If he finds us, we're all dead!" The Puppet that had just entered hissed at the other two. She grabbed their arms and started pulling them deeper into the hole. "Come on! I actually do have news, and Bonzai should hear it too."

Together the three Puppets Jumped their way through the tiny tunnel, going a secret way known only to the five of them. Eventually, they came to a small, boarded up room that any human would find claustrophobic. What was once an old storage closet now served as a hidden base for the latest of Daisy's "children". As far as they could tell, no other Puppets knew of the place, and the entrance was too small for them to get into either way. Inside was one other Hand Puppet, one with orange skin and green hair.

"Girls!" He exclaimed, dropping down from the shelf he was on. "I thought you were all dead! I was just preparing my awesome plan to go avenge you!" He threw a few fake punches, which the first Puppet glared at, catching his cloth fists.

"Bonzai, you would do no such thing!" She insisted. "If something happens to us, you're supposed to stay in here until Daisy makes more!" "Calm down, Canon. I could totally take them if I wanted to." He huffed, pulling away.

"No, you can't! That's why we're in here!" Canon told him. "We have to stay hidden until Mortimer calls for us, you know that!"

"Do not fight, siblings dear. Hibird or another could be close and hear." Stitch told them. "Canon has news of what has happened. Tell us, has our youngest sister met her end?"

There was a pause as the blue haired Puppet looked around. "No. As far as I could find out, Scout's still alive." There was a collective sigh of relief from the other three, though it didn't last long as Canon continued. "But, she managed to get herself and her defective Host outside somehow. Riley's furious, madder than I've ever seen her. Even Rosco's hiding from her."

"The mutt? He never hides from anything." The red-headed Puppet said. "Much less the mad 'doctor'."

"Well, he is this time, Bit. But that's not the worst of it." She took a deep breath, preparing herself to say the next thing. "Mortimer's completely calm about this." "Mr. Handee himself has had no reaction? Would this not be an event to spur even him to action?" Stitch asked, concerned.

"You'd think, but no. Riley's madder than he is. He just sort of said... 'Yeah okay.' and left it at that." Canon suppressed a shudder. "I'm worried that he planned this somehow. And what his plans could mean for Scout. And the rest of us."

"I'm just mad that she found a way outside and didn't tell us." Bonzai said. "She knows I want to see the ocean and climb some rocks."

"Yeah! How could she leave us here like that?!" Bit asked angrily. "She knows we all want to see what's really out there!"

"Quiet, the both of you! We've no idea of what Scout really tried to do. If it was truly Mortimer's plan, she would have had no choice in when she ran." Stitch scolded, shoving herself between them. The other two looked away, in shame, though Bit kept her glare.

"And we still don't even know if it is a plan." Canon said. "For all we know, she got lucky, found a hole in the wall, and crawled out." She paused, checking to make sure the others were paying attention. "The best we can hope for at this point is that she doesn't come back, and that we can stay hidden until we find out what's really going on here."

"What?!" Her siblings looked shocked.

"Why should we hope for that?!" Bit questioned. "I want her to come home, and tell us about everything she saw out there!"

"Because if she does come back, Riley <i>will</i> to tear her apart to find out why she can't control her Hosts." Canon told them, struggling to keep her cool. "She'll destroy her so much, there'll be nothing left, and then do the same to the rest of us. She was on her last one anyways, and she failed harder than anyone else ever has. She not only couldn't control her Host, she managed to Wake it up."

A shocked silence was all the reply she got from that, her younger siblings just staring at her.

"Isn't that supposed to be impossible?" Bonzai asked finally, uncharacteristically quiet. "The spell Mortimer does... it's meant to be permanent."

"I don't know." Canon admitted. "Something might have gone wrong with the spell, or something went wrong with Scout. It doesn't matter, Riley intends to find out either way." Her gaze hardened. "Which is why all of us have to stay hidden. Find Daisy and cry, if we have to. Because without Scout, we're the next best thing Riley has to a way to figure out the answer."

She watched her younger siblings exchange fearful looks, even Bonzai looking afraid. 'Good.' She thought to herself. 'Whatever keeps them safe. Even if we have to go find Daisy again, I won't let anyone else get hurt because of this.

I can't.'

#hello puppets #outside #fanfiction #scout #stacy stein #will carson #canon #bit #bonzai #stitch

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nadja-chamack16 · 4 years

Text

Side With The Height

Authors note: lmao I was supposed to post this basically years ago :/ (more like a month ago) but I got so self conscious about it and wasn't going to finish it... so before I regret posting this lol just know I had fun writing and there are probably grammar mistakes. I truly don’t know if this is going to be a chaptered thing but enjoy anyway! If you have any questions please let me know! and if you wanna be tagged for some reason let me know(?)

words: 3861

pairings: Eventual prinxiety, eventual logicality, Platonic demus

summary: Virgil wakes up in washington heights, the place where he's lived as long as he can remember. He goes through his usual day and we see a glimpse into his mind.

warnings: A lot of Spanglish (mix in between Spanish and English) is used, let me know if I missed anything

“ Lights up on Washington Heights”

Up at the break of day ”

Virgil woke up a tad bit late, which mind you was something very rare, still on time to open the bodega though he was almost always the first one up anyway. Watching the Barrio wake up after he was wide awake and ready to start his day, it made him feel like he was seeing the world from an outsider perspective but for once being the outsider was something good.

“ I wake up and I got this little punk I gotta chase away ”

He walked towards the bodega, one of the few things he still had from his parents and- Wait is that Remus? wait wait wait- is he about to spray paint the bodega?! His internal monologue was rudely interrupted, He bolted towards Remus, “what are the fuck are you doing?!” Remus wasn't a genius, but he could definitely tell that Virgil was pissed and he decide his best option was to run off to god knows where, he was a little worried that Virgil would run after him, but he still tried to look calm while leaving but was definitely failing miserably.

“ Pop the grate at the crack of dawn ”

Virgil knew how Remus was, he and Dee hung out a lot, (if it were up to Virgil he most definitely would not be, but he can’t monitor Dee all the time) But he never thought Remus would ever dare try to spray paint the bodega! “I guess you can’t trust people” he said under his breath while pulling up the metal grate covering his corner store.

“ Sing while I wipe down the awning

Hey y'all good morning ”

Virgil saw the piraguero, Emile, and had a short conversation with him. “Ice cold piragua. Parcha, china, cherry, strawberry, and just for today I got Mamey!” Emile said, he said it every morning so Virgil had most of it memorized by then and mouthed the words as he said them, “Oye piraguero Como esta? " Virgil asked, he didn't personally like small talk, but there was a few exceptions, “Como siempre señor Virgilio!” Emile winked. Virgil didn't hate his name or anything, his parents gave it to him and it had a story behind it, he just liked its “translation” into English a little better, when he was a kid, a few of his classmates had issues saying his name, and he didn't really like that, so he decided to use the name one of his teachers called him. He entered the store relaxed and involuntarily continued his internal monologue. Virgil enjoyed singing...when he was alone in the bodega...at an ungodly hour... before everyone was awake and bustling through the door, before anyone could judge him really, but deep down he knew nobody here would ever do that, everyone around him either saw him growing up or grew up with him, but anxiety won't stop pestering will it?

“ I am Usnavi and you prob'ly never heard my name

Reports of my fame are greatly exaggerated

Exacerbated by the fact that my syntax is highly complicated cause

I emigrated from the single greatest little place in the Caribbean

Dominican-

Republic ”

It didn't matter that Virgil was from this small tropical island in the Caribbean he still probably was the palest person in the barrio, and you couldn't really blame him, he was always working, trying to make ends meet, so he almost never went out, plus he moved to the barrio when he was a child, so he never got to really experience that Dominican heat, and those stunning sun beams crashing over one's skin through the palm trees while feeling the sand as he walked through one of its many beaches- anyway...he’s always lived in the barrio so, it’s not like he doesn’t have his culture with him, since there are other Latinos all around him, but he wants to one day experience all these things and not just day dream about experiencing his country with the only reference of that majestic place being stories Abuela had told him.

“ I love it

Jesus, I'm jealous of it

And beyond that

Ever since my folks passed on I haven't gone back

Goddamn,

I gotta get home then ”

In case you hadn’t noticed, Virgil Loved his country and culture very dearly, and he took pride in it, sometimes when Abuela Carmen told him stories about his home country, he got a weird feeling, He was most definitely grateful that Abuela took her time to tell him in detail all these stories, so he could imagine what living there must be like, but he couldn’t put a finger on what this feeling was, jealousy? Maybe. Longing? Probably. Resentment? Possibly. Desire? Who knows. He wasn’t sure, the only thing he knew for a fact was that this feeling made him wonder what would have happened if his parent just stayed in the sunny bliss that is his country, and having such a thought made him feel guilty so, he tried not to dawn it for too long, and told himself that one day he would have enough money to go and live there for the rest of his days (a few years maybe? No, he wanted this) and experience his country...but he could also come back settle down, help Dee, so he can fend for himself, and maybe start dating, he could always try to ask R-

“ I'm gonna test ya later

I'm getting tested times are tough on this bodega

Two months ago somebody bought Ortega's Our

Neighbors started packin' up and pickin' up

And ever since the rent's went up

It's gotten mad expensive

But we live with just enough”

He had to cut that train of thought quickly, he couldn't be day dreaming about impossible scenarios when rush hour was coming, and everyone would be awake heading for work and would pass through his bodega and get his world- well barrio famous café con leche, but he had no idea what he would do today since the fridge decided to stop working, and he had started to panic a little, thank god for Abuela because he would have gone into full panic mode if it weren’t for her walking in, “Mijo what's wrong? You look stressed.” she always knew when something was wrong, “Ay, abuela my fridge broke... I got café but no con leche” he tried not to sound too disheartened and worried as not to raise any worry, “try mother’s old recipe, one can of condensed milk!” that was all she had to say, and he was instantly calmer, but it wouldn’t be Abuela if she didn’t end it with “Paciencia Y Fe!” she said it as she exited the store. She may not be his real grandma, but he certainly loved her as if she was his grandmother, hell mother even! She practically raised him for god’s sake!

“ In the heights

I can't survive without café

I serve café

Cuz tonight seems like a million years away!

En Washington—”

Then and there the barrio came alive in a matter of milliseconds and everyone was rushing through the streets, and the cars were honking, and everything lit up as if from a scene in a movie. He liked how he always knew who to expect at what time, it was comforting to have routine, and he guessed other people agreed with him because they were always on time, First up was the Rosario’s, they run the cab company down the street, Even, so they struggle in the barrio, their son Patton is off to college and tuition is ridiculously expensive so, everything they get is mad cheap. Virgil always knew everyone's usual, and the Rosario’s were no exception, “Good Morning virgiiiiiil” Larry’s singsong voice sliced through his thoughts, he automatically started gathering his usual,“Pan caliente, Café con leche” he said as he put the items in the counter, “put twenty dollars on today’s lottery” Larry said with a smile on his face, before Virgil could do anything Dot’s voice came through “ one ticket that’s it!” she said with a stern tone, her eyes still pretty playful, “hey!, a man’s got a dream...” she rolled her eyes and turned to Virgil “don't mind him he's all excited ‘cuz Patton flew in at three am last night” she was smiling warmly while thinking of her son, Larry’s voice caught her attention, and she looked up “don’t look at me, this ones been cooking all week” he said while making a gesture with his thumb in her direction, she rolled her eyes, “Virgil come over for dinner there's plenty to eat!” they took the bag off the counter and left the store.

“ Me and my cousin runnin' just another

Dime-a-dozen

Mom-and-pop stop-and-shop

And, oh my god,

It's gotten too darn hot like my man Cole Porter said

People come

Through for a few cold waters and

A lottery ticket,

Just a part of the routine ”

He sees Dee trying to sneak past and obviously failing, “Dante you’re late” Virgil tries to say it in a stern voice, “chillax you know you love me.” Dee smirked and got to work, Virgil couldn't hold back the smile any longer, he just sighed and started warming up for the real rush hour coming, there was going to be multiple people talking to him at once and even if he finally had Dee to help, he knew the both wouldn't be enough, but after years of this being his job, he knows how to handle many people talking to him at once and keep in mind these are Latino people, which meant there was several people talking to him at once but at twice the speed of a normal human conversation, and if they were on a rush make it four times as fast.

“ Everybody's got a job;

Everybody's got a dream

They gossip,

As I sip my coffee and smirk

The first stop as people hop to work ”

The last people to come before rush hour were Remy and Valerie work on the salon next door, and as always Remy was telling Val about the new chisme, and Virgil couldn't help but eavesdrop, it was his bodega after all, so he had to have some sort of right to do so, plus it wasn't like he tried to hide the fact that he was listening, if something surprised him it, he wouldn't try to stifle a gasp, but he never got to hear the gossip from the beginning, so he had to try to piece it together and sometime he didn't even get to hear the end, he started preparing their usual orders as he listened, “so, then Yesenia walks in the room” “ah ha” she smells sex, and cheap perfume” “uh oh”, “it smells like one of those reeves that you hang from the rearview” Valerie didn't really add much to the story just her random reactions to show she was listening, “haha no!,” “its true! She screams ‘who's in there with you Julio!’ grabs a bat and quick in me’ door…” Virgil started piecing some things together, they were talking about Yesenia getting cheated on, Julio probably had cheated on her with some gir-” he's in bed with José from the liquor store!” well that was a twist! Virgil couldn't help what he said next, “No me diga!” he and Valerie said it in perfect sync, he hands them their respective coffees, and they both say a simple, “thanks Virgil!”

“ Bust it— I'm like— One dollar, two

Dollars, one fifty, one sixty-nine I got it

You want a box of condoms what kind?

That's two quarters Two quarter waters

The New York Times

You need a bag for that?

The tax is added ”

It was finally time, the long awaited rush hour, people were asking him the cost of things, where things were located, he even got some surprising questions, but he couldn't even stop and dawn on it for too long because he had a few people asking him questions, and he didn't want an angry mob of Latinos forming this early in the day, there was a few people here and there that came for only coffee but at this time people usually came to look for stuff that they needed like a few groceries or toiletries but this was for sure the most stressful part of the day, but it wasn't as bad as you might think.

“ Once you get some practice at it

You do rapid

Mathematics automatically

Sellin' maxipads and fuzzy dice for taxicabs and practically

Everybody's stressed, yes,

But they press through the mess

Bounce checks and wonder what's next ”

Virgil was used to this, he had this jump of adrenaline in his day-to-day life, and his need to make everyone complacent as they left his small bodega made him work extra hard, it was almost over though and the only way to truly know it was over was once Logan walked through that door, he and Dante would never tell Logan how happy, and relieved they were any time He walked in through the bodega door, Virgil was relieved when Logan entered the bodega? Yes, but was he happy? Kind of, since Logan and Dee would team up against him to poke fun at him, most of the time it had to do with Virgil’s love life but what can you do? The funniest thing was when Logan would try to beat Virgil to say what he usually got but Virgil was just faster and knew all of it by heart so, he always won, which frustrated Logan which in turn made him feel a little better when Logan and Dee bothered him about his love life, it wasn't something he liked to talk about so in turn he couldn't really argue with them about it, so he just tried to shut them up quickly especially since Roman was always the one to come after Logan, but he was usually distracted with something so even if they were talking about it, he wouldn't notice since Logan and Dante would shut up, and see what Virgil would do, now it was just time to wait for Logan to arrive, so he and Dee would be able to take a break.

“ In the heights I buy my coffee and I go

I buy my coffee and—

Set my sights

On only what I need to know

What I need to know—

In the heights Money is tight

But even so—

Even so—

When the lights go down I blast my radio!

En Washington “

The man of the hour walked through the door, Logan saw Virgil and Dante release A breath they were holding, he smirked, Virgil knew what that meant, his challenge for the day, try to beat Virgil to say what he wanted, mission impossible , Logan always tried to throw Virgil off guard with a tease, it never worked. “ you ain't got no skills!” Virgil smiled, this ought to be fun , “Logan!” virgil let logan start saying his order so then he could annoy Logan by interrupting him, “Yo, let me get a-” “milky way” he said as he put it on the counter, “ yeah, let me also get a-”, “daily news” virgil knew he was starting to get on his nerves once saw the way he looked at the paper on the counter, “ and a-” “post” virgil just smirked, logan’s smile was faltering, “And most important, my-” “ Boss’ second coffee, one cream-” LOgan always came for Mr. Rosario’s second coffee, he didn't really drink coffee from what virgil knew, “ five sugars” Logan tried to beat Virgil to saying it but they ended up saying it at the same time, dante just rolled his eyes, he knew Virgil would always win but he still cheered logan on. Once logan inevitably failed he tried to show his skills off to prove one day he might get to outsmart Virgil,“I'm the number one earner”, “what?!”, they both knew it was all in good fun, “the fastest learner”

“what?!”, but sometimes virgil would irritate Logan and that's how they would end up with Logan teasing Virgil about him liking Roman, ,“my Boss can't keep me on the damn back burner!” “yes he can” and Dante would be on LOgans team “i'm making moves, i’m making deals, but guess what” “what?” “you still ain't got no skills”, “hardee-har” virgil mocked, “ Yo, Roman Show up yet?” Virgil face was immediately up in flames, “shut up!” “hey little homie, don't get so upset” virgil know what to target on Logan but it was the same viceversa, “man..” he knew he couldn't stop this from happening anyway do he just kind of accepted it, “ Tell Roman how you feel, buy the boy a meal on the real, or you ain't got no skills-”

Logan was interrupted by someone coming in and virgil was thankful for it... until he looked up to see who it was, Roman distractedly talking to the phone so he probably didn't hear any of that (hopefully), “Nooo! No no nooo! No no nooo, no-no-no! Nooo, no-no-no! No-no-no-no-no-no-no-no, no-no-no-no-no!” well now virgil was curious to who he was talking to, Roman had always been someone extra and comfortable around everyone in the barrio but to just walk into the bodega while having an apparent important conversation was surprising nonetheless, “Mr. Johnson, I got the security deposit, It’s locked in a box in the bottom of my closet, It’s not reflected in my bank statement, But I’ve been savin’ to make a down payment and pay rent, No, no, I won’t let you down—” Roman made a pause to listen to the person on he other end of the call and Logan took this opportunity to talk “ Yo, here’s your chance; ask him out right now!” Virgil pushed logan to shut him up because Roman was right there and he could hear him! “ I’ll see you later, we can look at that lease!” Roman seemed relieved and a small smile started creeping its way into his face, he still didn't seem fully calm but he looked more at ease.

“Do somethin’, make your move, don’t freeze!” His silent awe towards Roman was interrupted as logan pushed him towards Roman just as he ended the call, so he had no way of escaping the situation, “Hey!” “You owe me a bottle of cold champagne”! Virgil had almost forgotten completely about their bet, the first one to get out of the barrio has to get the other champagne, “ Are you moving?” virgil said it almost as if he were disappointed which was a surprise to himself, “Just a little credit check and I’m on that downtown train!” Roman said it with a smile lighting up his face, Virgil noticed he was staring, adn tried to act fast “ Well, your coffee’s on the house”, “okay!” Roman took the coffee and looked down in a shy way with a small smile , virgil had never seen him like that, “Usnavi, ask him out...” he heard Logan whisper shouting at him and he sincerely hoped that Roman hadn’t heard that, “No way!” Virgil heard Dante say to Benny and that comment kind of offended him, “I’ll see you later, so…” Roman said awkwardly and turned to leave the Bodega. “ Oooh... Smooth operator, aw, damn, there she goes! Yo, bro, take five, take a walk outside! You look exhausted, lost, don’t let life slide! The whole hood is struggling, times are tight And you’re stuck to this corner like a streetlight!” after that Logan took his things and left the bodega.

“Yeah, I'm a streetlight,

Choking on the heat The world spins around while I'm frozen to my

Seat The people that I know all keep on rolling down the street But

Everyday is different so I'm switchin' up the beat Cuz my parents

Came with nothing They got a little more And sure, we're poor, but yo

At least we got the store And it's all about the legacy they left

With me, it's destiny And one day I'll be on a beach with Sonny

Writing checks

to me “

Virgil’s mood dropped as soon as those words came out of Logan’s mouth, he knew Logan didn't mean anything by it but that didn't stop his heart from dropping onto the Floor of his store, this was one of his fears to be stuck with his Bodega and be left behind by everyone else, everyone that cares for him or at least he thinks they- He stopped dead in his tracks, He couldn't be thinking like that, his parents did everything they could before they died to get this corner store and one day he's going to go back to his country just like him(?) and Abuela want and Dante will have a stable life with the income he will get from the store and his life will be bliss.

“ In the heights I hang my flag up on display We

Came to work and to live and we got a lot in

Common It reminds me that I came from miles away D

R., P

R., we are not stoppin'

In the heights

Every day, paciencia y fe

Until the day we go from poverty to stock options

In the heights I've got today

And today's all we got,

So we cannot stop This is our block In the heights I

Hang my flag up on display Lo le lo le lo lai lai lo le!

It reminds me that I came from miles away! “

Virgil can practically hear people's thoughts and dreams circling through the air but to be honest Virgil didn't really hear them...he felt the electric buzzing that came with the streets of the place he was raised. It was one of the many things he liked about his barrio at a quick glance it isn't much just a little place in New York filled with immigrants that have bigger dreams, bigger than themselves and everyone around them… its as if You cant walk through these streets without bumping into somebody's dream.

“ I Hang my flag up on display Lo le lo le lo lai lai lo le!

It reminds me that I came from miles away!

My family came from miles away— In the heights It gets more expensive

Every day Every day And tonight is so far away—

But as for mañana, mi pana Ya gotta just keep watchin'

You'll see the Late nights You'll taste Beans and rice The syrups and

Shaved ice I ain't gonna Say it twice ”

They all knew were they came from, the sunniest places a person could ever go to. They all know the situation that is happening in the barrio , how no one is really here to stay, how this is just a stepping stool towards a bigger dream...but they didn't care. They all will know soon enough what is to come but for now…

“ Turn up the stage lights

We're takin' a flight To a couple

Of days In the life of what it's like

En Washington Heights! ”

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

@malaya-is-a-hoe I did it sis

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daryls-dixon-antoni · 4 years

Text

Chapter 33.) Service

"Mom, Hope's crying. I think she's hungry."

"Okay," I respond, softly.

"Mom, she needs you, I need you."

I look over at my son, ready to snap at him, when I hear Rick's voice call, "Anne, he's here, we need you."

My feet move before my brain processes why. I follow Rick to the gate seeing Negan talking with Spencer in front of Eugene and Rosita.

"I know I had to make a pretty strong first impression," I hear Negan say to Spencer as we get there. "Well, hello, there." He greets Rick once he see's him.

Rick doesn't respond and Negan glares, "Do not make me have to ask."

"You said a week," Rick says, opening the gate. "You're early."

Negan grins, "I missed you."

I see the dead approaching from behind Negan and hope he bites him.

Negan grins even wider and says, "Oh, Rick, come on out here." He starts backing up towards the dead. "Watch this. Calling it!"

He hits the dead with his bat and when I blink an image of Glenn's headless body, and Abraham's crushed in skull swims behind my eyelids. "Ha ha ha! Easy peasy lemon squeezy! All right, everybody. Let's get started." When I look to see the men he brought my heart drops seeing Daryl, beaten up and in loose fitting sweat clothes with a spray painted A on them. My head starts swimming, especially when I look towards the movement out of the corner of my eye to notice Mason carrying Hope towards us.

Towards Negan.

"Big day. Hey, Rick, you see that, what I just did? That is some service! I mean, we almost get turned away at the gate. 'Who is that guy, anyway?' Do I get mad? Do I throw a fit? Do I bash some ginger's dome in? Nope. I just take care of one of these dead pricks that could've killed one of y'all. Service." He walks forward and thrusts his bat into Rick's hand as he walks by saying, "Hold this."

"Hot diggity dog! This place is magnificent! An embarrassment of riches, as they say. Yes, sir, I do believe you are gonna have plenty to offer up." As Negan's chuckling, I'm stood next to Rick, with Mason behind me and Hope in my arms.

Rick walks towards Daryl saying, "Daryl, hey-"

Negan steps forward and sternly cuts him off, "No. Nope. He's the help."

I step forward timidly, "Can I at least introduce him to his daughter?" I can hear my blood flowing through my ears as I ask. Hoping beyond hope that he wouldn't hurt a newborn. I mostly said it to let Daryl know the baby is okay. That she made it.

"No. You don't look at him, you don't talk to him, and I don't make you chop anything off of him. Same goes for everyone," he practically sings as he aproaches Rosita, “Right?”

He then approaches Rick again and says, "A lot of suspense there. I don't think she even knew how much. All right, let's get this show on the road. See what kind of goodies you got in the cupboard."

"We put aside half the supplies," Rick says.

"No, Rick. No. You don't decide what we take. I do." He turns to his people, "Arat."

A woman with blond hair that hasn't been died in ages yells, "You heard the man. Move out!" His people start walking forward and Negan turns back to Rick.

"They're just gonna search the houses a bit, keep the process movin'." He sighs, "All right. You gonna show me around or not?" When Rick doesn't respond he says, "Well?"

Rick starts moving, and I hand Hope to Mason and whisper, "Try to stay as far away from anyone that isn't ours, keep her safe."

He nods quickly before asking, "Does Daryl count as the people I have to avoid?"

I nod, "For now, yes. Now go."

I quickly follow behind Rick and Negan, knowing that was Rick's request earlier.

As we walk we see some men carrying an arm chair out of one of the homes as Negan says, cheerily, "You see this? This is the kind of thing that just tickles my balls. A little cooperation and everything is pleasant as punch. You see, we really are reasonable people once you get to know us. Honest." He opens a cooler and grabs a can of something, opens it, drinks it then crushes it. "Ohh, Man. Damn, I love this place!"

A man calls his name and approaches with Deanna's camera. "Somethin' you might wanna see."

"Well, well, well." Negan cheers, "What do we have here? I got my fingers crossed for a little freaky-deaky."

He starts playing Rick's tape from the interviews with Deanna. The ones from when we first arrived here, "know me. I've killed people. I don't even know how many by now."

"Jee-hee-sus!" Negan says, looking at the camera.

"But I know why they're all dead." Rick’s voice continues.

"Is that you, Rick, underneath all that man-bush?"

The tape keeps playing, "They're dead so my family, all those people out there, can be alive."

"Shee-ot. I would not have messed with that guy." He clicks the camera and starts recording, "But that's not you anymore is it?" He turns the camera to himself, "Nope." He turns the camera off. "I really gotta shave this shit.” He says, about his facial hair. “Whatever happened to that sick girl? That seemed like a hell of a stressful night for her. The way she was carrying on; she was married to number two, right?" He continues, "Careful. Careful how you're lookin' at me, Rick. Widows, especially ones that look like that," he breathes out and I start shaking slightly. "They are special. I love 'em. Right after their husbands go, they are just... empty inside. But usually not for long." He chuckles, "Ahh. Where is she? I would love to see her."

"Do you care to pay your respects?" I turn to see Father Gabriel has approached us.

"Ho-ly crap! You are creepy as shit, sneaking up on me, wearin' that collar with that freaky-ass smile."

"My apologies. I'm Father Gabriel."

Negan pauses, looking taken aback, "She didn't make it?" None of us respond, not giving him the satisfaction.

We end up in the cemetary and I have to try my hardest not to let Daryl know that Maggie's fine.

"Damn tragedy. That's what this is." Negan breathes deeply. "Well, this must really suck for you guys. Number one? That was on me. No choice there. Lessons had to be learned. But number two? That didn't need to happen. Daryl, there, he forced my hand." I bite my lip so I don't correct him. Don't get anyone killed. "Probably put her right on her back, huh? Damn. I was gonna ask her to come back with me. Oh, I know what you're thinkin'. How could I have a shot, guy that just bashed her husband's head in?" He chuckles, "You'd be surprised. Boy, people, they-" he's cut off by the distant sound of a gunshot. Negan starts walking away and as we get to the house where the sound came from, I see it's ours.

Once we make it in the room we hear one of Negan's men say, "Kid what do you think happens next?"

"You die," Carl responds, aiming a gun at the man.

"Carl. Carl, put it down." Rick begs.

"No. He's taking all of our medicine. They said only half our stuff."

Negan chuckles, "Of course. Oh-ho. Really, kid?"

Carl turns to Negan, "And you should go. Before you find out how dangerous we all are."

"Well, pardon me, young man.

Excuse the shit out of my goddamn french, but did you just threaten me? Look, I get threatening Davey here, but I can't have it. Not him, not me."

"Carl, just put it down." Rick begs, again.

"Don't be rude, Rick. We are having a conversation here. Now, boy, where were we? Oh, yeah. Your giant, man-sized balls. No threatening us. Listen, I like you, so I don't want to go hard proving a point here. You don't want that. I said half your shit, and half is what I say it is. I'm serious. Do you want me to prove how serious? Again?"

"Carl, Hunny. Put the gun down." I whisper, gently.

Carl turns back to me briefly, before sighing and giving Rick the gun.

Negan takes it from Rick, "You know, Rick. This whole thing reminds me that you have a lot of guns. There's all the guns you took from my outpost when you wasted all my people with a shit-ton of your own guns. And I'm bettin' there's even more. Which adds up to an absolute ass-load of guns, and as this little emotional outburst just made crystal clear; I can't allow that. They're all mine now. So tell me, Rick. Where are my guns?"

We get to the armory, and Olivia stays calm, "I... figured you were coming.”

"Show him where the guns are, Olivia." Rick says.

"The armory's inside," she turns around and makes her way to the door leading into the actual armory.

"You run the show in here?" Negan asks.

She stops, turns half around, "I-I just keep track of it all, the rations, the guns."

"Good. Smart. Don't let me stop you. Take her out, boys. Show 'em the goods." She leads his men in and I go to follow but hesitate when I hear Negan say, "Wait, wait, wait. While they're at it, I just want to point out to you that I'm not taking a scrap of your food. Slim pickin's in here." I turn around. “And I can't be the only one to notice that you got a fat lady in charge of keeping track of rations, can I? Either way, you starve to death; I don't get shit. So, for now; you get to keep all the food. How 'bout that?"

"What do you want me to say?" Rick asks, hoarsely.

"I don't know, Rick. How about a thank you. You think that might be in order? Or is that too much to ask?!"

When Rick doesn't say anything I speak up, "It's hard ... for him, y'know... he was close to Glenn... even closer to D" I take a deep breath, "Daryl. You can understand?"

Negan laughs, "Ohh. I know we started off on the wrong foot, but what can I say?" He turns to look Rick in the eye, "You forced my hand, Rick. But it's like I've been tryin' to tell you; I'm a very reasonable man as long as you cooperate. So let me ask you a question, Rick. Are you cooperating?"

"What's it look like?" Rick asks.

"Oh-ho-ho. I know what it looks like. But what I really want to know is if we're gonna find all the guns back there or if maybe; you got a few just waitin' for their moment? Just like my Lucille."

"They're all in there, to the best of my knowledge."

"Mm. I am countin' on that, Rick." Negan brushes past me and into the Armory and Rick and I exchange looks.

"I had it handled," Rick whispers, angrily.

"No, you didn't. So I helped, that's why I'm here, right? I'm your temporary replacement for Daryl, right? Because you don't have it handled."

He gives me an almost shocked expression for my sharp tone. Yet, somehow I can’t find it in myself to care. He’s letting this man run our lives after he murdered our own, man napped Daryl, and now he just gets to walk around our home talking in his annoying ass sing-songy voice and lean around exaggeratedly without a care in the world.

"You know what today is, Rick? Today is a banner day. Yes, it is. I think this little arrangement we have is gonna work out just fine." I keep my breath held as Daryl comes out of the armory, helping Negan's men load up his vehicles.

"Hold up." I freeze completely, worried my glance in Daryl's direction was going to get him killed. Instead, Negan takes a grun from Daryl's pile and says, "Let's see if you've been taking care of my guns." He cocks the gun, aims it at Daryl and I feel the tears coming to my eyes as I watch as if in slow motion Daryl just continue working, as if he didn't have a gun on him.

When he shoots, he hits a window and not Daryl and I let out a choked breath.

"Feels good. Sounds good! Oh, I do believe Lucille's gettin' a little jealous. Well, ho-ly smokes!" He takes the rocket launcher that one of his men just retrieved. "Look at this! It was you guys that took out Little Timmy and the Dick Brigade? Wow, Rick. Gettin' in your last licks. Ooh, man, I'm gonna have some fun with this."

"Please, I-I don't know for-" when I look over to Olivia's distressed voice, I see the woman Negan had addressed earlier dragging Olivia up the stairs to the outside.

Negan looks at his woman and chastizes, "Arat, we don't do that unless they do somethin' to deserve it."

"Yeah, we went through the inventory. Guns in the armory, guns they had around the walls, they're short." She pulls Olivia's notebook out from underneeth her arm and hands it to Negan, "Glock 9 and a .22 Bobcat."

Negan turns to Olivia, "Is that true?" Olivia nods and Rick speaks up.

"We had some people leave town. Those guns probably went with them."

"So Olivia sucks at her job. Is that what you're sayin'?"

"No. No, I'm not sayin' that."

"There should be a full accounting here, right? Top to bottom. Am I right?"

"No," Olivia responds, surprising me. "I mean, yes. The inventory is correct."

"Good," Negan says, then steps closer to Olivia, "But not so good, too. You see, what's in here," he holds up her notebook, "isn't in there. You're two handguns short. Do you know where they are?"

"No... I..." she trails off.

Negan sighs, turning back to Rick, "That's disappointing, Rick. I thought that we had an understanding. But this, well, this shows that someone's not on board, and I can't have that." He gets even closer to Olivia and says, "I don't enjoy killing women. Men; I can waste them all the live long. But at the end of the day, Olivia, my dear, this was your responsibility."

"Look," Rick interrupts, "we can work this out."

"Oh, yes, we can. And I'm going to; right now." Olivia whimpers, "This was your job, and you screwed up. Keeping track of guns? That shit is life and death."

We are in the church with the town of Alexandria. Rick's at the front speaking, "I thought about hiding some of the guns. I did it before. I figured I could bury some out there," he points outside of the church. "Maybe we don't touch them for years."

"Years?" Tobin asks.

"Yeah. That's right. But what if the Saviors find those guns? What if we run into them when we have those guns on us? One of us dies. Maybe more than that. Maybe a lot more. Doesn't matter how many bullets we have. It isn't enough. They win. It's that black-and-white. Hiding a couple of guns isn't the answer, not anymore. We don't have to like it, but we need to give them over. A Glock 9 and a .22. That's what they're looking for. Who has it? Someone knows where they are or they know who does. If we don't find them, they're gonna kill Olivia. They'll do it."

One of the townspeople stands up and asks, "Why do they care? Two guns aren't a threat to them. But those guns could help protect us from whatever else is out there."

"Do you have 'em?" Rick asks.

"Wish I did," the man responds, sitting back down.

"Most of you weren't there. You didn't have to watch."

I stand up, "They killed Abraham to get a point across. They killed Glenn because Daryl stood up to them. They bashed Glenn's head in. To the point he didn't even have one.”

Rick puts a hand up, "That's enough Anne." When I sit back down next to Mason, Rick continues, "Listen, you can look away now; when someone else dies. Or you can help solve this. We give them what they want, and we live in peace."

Eric stands up, "Say we find the guns. How are we gonna get out of this, Rick?"

"There is no way out of this," Rick responds. "Let me put this to all of you as clearly as I can. I'm not in charge anymore. Negan is. Now, who has the guns?"

It's silent for a long time before Eugene speaks up, "Not everyone's here."

I'm in Spencer’s house with Rick, he's looking everywhere for the guns while I watch.

Gabriel comes in and says, "Nothing. Still. I just, I feel like I know this is going to work out."

"How?" Rick asks, still searching.

"We'll find the guns. We'll get through today. Then we'll find a way to go forward, how to beat this."

"There is no beating this."

"Yes, there is, somehow. I have faith in us. I have faith in you. Things change. You're my friend. It wasn't always that way. Where's Michonne? Could she possibly have-"

"She doesn't have anything they're lookin' for." Rick states, standing up. "What you did with the graves, it was quick thinkin'. Thank you."

"It was nice digging a grave I knew would stay empty." Gabe says as Aaron comes in.

"No luck?" Aaron asks.

"Nope," I respond.

"We searched the house, Rosita's. There's nothing. So what do we do now?"

"If they were anywhere, they'd be here." Rick says. "Spencer's done this kind of thing before. We keep looking. Maybe today works out."

"I'll check the garage," Aaron says, walking away.

"I'll look in Deanna's office again." Gabe agrees.

"I guess I'm rechecking upstairs." I say, heading up the stairs.

Once Rick found the guns, we head outside to see one of Negan's men pesturing Enid.

"Balloons? You going to a party, little girl?"

"Can I keep them, please?" Enid asks, "It's just... Let me keep them."

"Say please again, little girl."

"Please."

"Yeah," he puts a finger on her cheek and I have to look away as I hear him say, "One more time."

"Please," Enid responds, sharply.

"Be careful, little girl."

"They'll be gone soon," Rick whispers, and when I turn I see the judgement in Carl's eyes.

"Come on, Rick. Let's go give the guns to Negan." I say.

He nods and we approach Negan who says, "What you got for me, Rick?" Rick hands him the guns. "Well, would you look at that? They were here after all. Funny how a little 'Holy shit! Somebody's gonna die!' lights a fire under everybody's ass!"

Olivia starts crying, so instinctively I walk over and put an arm comfortably around her as Negan continues.

"So, tell me, Rick. Which one of your fine folks almost cost Olivia the rest of her days?"

"It doesn't matter anymore," Rick says.

"No, it matters. See, you need to get everybody on board. Everybody. Or we just go right back to square one."

They finally start leaving, and there is nothing I want more than to get to walk over to Daryl and hug him, have him pull me in and tell me everything is going to be okay.

"Hell of a place you got here, Rick." Negan says.

"Give me a second," I hear Rick ask.

"No," is Negan's response. I have yet to take my eyes off of Daryl.

"Please, can you just... give me a second?"

Negan starts humming and when Rick comes back, Michonne is with him, a dead deer around her shoulders.

"Look at this!" Negan cheers.

"I thought she was scavenging." Rick says, "She was hunting." I watch in horror as Rick gives Negan a rifle, "This one never came inside. We kept it near the line."

"Look at this. This is something to build a relationship on. Good for you, Rick. This is readin' the room and gettin' the message. I've said it before, I'm gonna say it again. You, sir are special."

"Now that you know we can follow your rules..."

"Yes?" Negan asks, almost singing.

"I'd like to ask you if Daryl can stay." I look gratefully at Rick.

"Not happenin'."

"Please, he has a newborn."

"You know what? I don't know. Maybe Daryl can plead his case. Maybe Daryl can sway me." Daryl keeps his eyes down. "Daryl?" When Daryl still keeps his eyes on the ground I step forward.

"Daryl, come on!" I beg.

Negan chuckles, "Well, you tried. Now what you got to do is get over that tall wall of yours and try harder out there. Earn for me. Because we're coming back soon, and when we do, you better have something interesting for us. Or Lucille... she's gonna have her way. I want you to hear that again. If you don't have something interesting for us. Somebody's gonna die. And no more magic guns. Arat, grab that deer. It's getting late. Let's go home." Michonne throws the deer down.

"Man, I love a gal that buys me dinner and doesn't expect me to put out." I hear Negan chuckle.

We watch Spencer bring Dwight Daryl's bike.

"I'll take that," Dwight says. "Rosita! Got a little thank-you. That's all you're getting back. Took all your guns, most of your beds. I hope you find a place to lay your pretty little head." He gets on Daryl's bike and says, "Did you find anything else out there?"

"Just your dead friends," Rosita shoots back, and walks away.

Dwight revs up Daryl's bike and for a moment I'm brought back to the memory of me riding with Daryl to lead the dead away from Alexandria. How it felt to be so close to his body as we helped our community.

I watch in disgust as he rides over to Daryl and says, "You can have it back. Just say the word." When Daryl doesn't respond, Dwight rides off.

"So, nobody died." Negan says to Rick. "And you know what I think? I think you and I, we've refined our understanding. Let me ask you something, Rick. Do you want me to go?"

"I think that'd be good." Rick says.

"Then just say those two magical words."

"Thank you," Rick says.

Negan laughs, "Don't be ridiculous. Thank you."

As another of the dead makes his way towards our community, Negan says, "Another one. You need our help. Davey, hand me that candlestick over there." The man called Davey hands it over. "You know what I think, Rick? I think we're both gonna come out of this winners. Watch my form!" He cleans out the walker in one swing.

"Ahh. Yep," he turns back to us. "Win-win." He drops the candlestick. "You should clean that up for me for next time. Let's move out!" His men start moving. "Oh, wait." Negan chuckles, turning back around, "How careless of me. You didn't think I was gonna leave Lucille, did ya? I mean, after what she did, why would you want 'er?" He takes the bat back, "Thank you for being so accommodating, friend." I watch as Negan whispers something in Rick's ear.

Then they leave, vehicle after vehicle, the last one taking Daryl away with it.

I stare as Rick closes the gates behind them, and then he approaches Spencer, "Spencer. We took the guns you had in your house. The Saviors wanted ours, all of them. There were two missing from the inventory. They were gonna kill Olivia." Spencer doesn't respond so Rick says his name.

"You went into my house?" Spencer asks.

"They were gonna kill Olivia. Look, I'm not faulting you for having the guns. I did it myself. But the food and liquor?" Rick sighs, "That's 'cause you're small, Spencer. You're weak. You got lucky with the walls. You got lucky with us." Rick starts walking away.

"We should've made a deal with them when we could've." Spencer shouts after Rick. "Oh, yeah, we're so lucky. You've led us all to the Promised Land! Isn't that right, Rick?! Here we are! I guess Glenn and Abraham were lucky, too?"

Rick stops, doesn't turn around and threatens, "You say anything like that again to me, I'll break your jaw, knock your teeth out. You understand? Say yes."

"Yes." Spencer starts walking back.

I follow after Rick to go back to my room.

There's no bed in there anymore, but they left the playpen for Hope.

When Mason walks in holding her, he sits on the floor next to me, "You know why I wanted you to name her Hope?"

I nod, "Because we need hope?"

He shakes his head, "Because you need a reminder to have hope. Ever since this started, when we lost Tonia; you started going on runs alone. When the prison fell and we were reunited, you wouldn't even let me out of this house. You are always so scared of the next bad thing, Mom. Well, this is the worst bad thing that's happened and you don't have any hope. But Hope and I need you to have hope. We need you to be here, to keep us safe."

I nod, "Okay."

#dary dixon #daryl dixon fanfiction #the walking dead fanfiction #the walking dead #season 7 #chapter 33

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wthomeland · 7 years

Text

Season Sex: Why It’s Totally Happening

Sheba, an active member on our WTH forum, has put together a comprehensive, damn near perfect list in defense of Season Sex on the Quarrie Sex thread - yes, we have a whole thread dedicated to Quarrie Sex with close to 3500 views at the moment - and gave us permission to post it on our blog. We couldn’t have summed it up better ourselves! Thank you, Sheba!

Pros (Yes, it's totally happening!):

No one else has gotten sexy time yet this season (except for Quinn, briefly, in episode 1). It's Showtime--someone has to this season! My bets are on Quarrie.

It's time. We've had enough hints, enough establishing of a relationship, enough of prolonging the inevitable, enough of the attempts at dating other people (and being jealous). We need to see them show us their love more explicitly now.

I'm assuming they're still going to address "the letter," and how could something not happen after addressing that figment of beauty?

The opening credits end with the "Why?" scene, showing Quarrie in an embrace. Their arc is important this season, and we're going to see them bond more than ever.

The first scene of episode 6 shows Carrie en route to visit Quinn at the VA. We learn that she visits him daily. We are being told that he is a priority in her life. He must know this!

In the "let ME go" scene, you can see that Carrie is not backing down, and she never does in this episode. She even tracks him down at the crack house. He needs to see that this is out of love, not guilt/duty.

Remember that lol moment when Otto showed up in episode 1? His whole purpose was to say, "If it's not me...then let it be someone else" and then CUT to Quinn. *Foreshadowing* y'all!

You can see through her tears, her choking up, her gestures, and her facial expressions during the "Why?" scene that Carrie loves Quinn. She said it all without using words--which is how Quarrie often communicate very beautifully.

The hug/nightquare scene reestablished their sexual tension, and it is a tease for that tension to be revisited fully in a later episode.

Carrie has only smiled a few times this season, and she smiles whenever she's looking at/talking about Franny and/or Quinn. She, like Franny, adores Quinn. Soon, he has to see what she sees!

Carrie makes no hesitation in jumping on top of Quinn to save him in episode 5, and she has defended his actions to everyone. I doubt she'll question him or turn him away if he seeks her comfort again this season.

Quinn loves and trusts Carrie more than anyone. That's why he wanted to watch the sarin video with her. A bit of a stretch, but it may also be why the writers didn't show Quinn reciprocate Astrid's love declaration. We have to see Quarrie move past their communication issues and reach some type of climax (pun intended!).

Cons (No, it's totally not happening!):

Quinn is not ready for sex because of his current condition, and Carrie knows this.

COUNTERARGUMENT: I think they showed Quinn getting some type of action in episode 1 for a reason. He is capable of and ready for many things in season 6 (especially in episode 9), so I doubt sex will be an issue. A point of lol, but the one pill bottle that we see Quinn looking at in episode 8 is Bupropion, one of the few anti-depressants on the market that does NOT cause sexual dysfunction.

Carrie rejected Quinn after the hug/nightquare scene. She's not interested (anymore)!

COUNTERARGUMENT: Carrie didn't feel that sex was appropriate at that place and time. She was in the process of trying to get Franny ready for school. Plus, Quinn was clearly shaken and she might have been taking advantage of him if she had not resisted. Shallow, I know, but Quinn hadn't showered. He also wasn't being himself--he wouldn't have gone straight for second base like that in S2-S5. Homeland is leading us carefully to the season sex scene we deserve.

Carrie only wants to become intimate with Quinn 1.0.

COUNTERARGUMENT: Carrie did say in episode 1 that he had to keep trying, because just when you feel like you can't go any further, that's when breakthroughs can happen. Was it moto shit, or could Quinn really have a breakthrough this season? Also, regardless if he doesn't have a breakthrough, he still seems better in episode 9 than he has been for a while. He also seems much better in those quieter scenes--such as in the "Why?" scene, the scenes where he's playing with Franny, and in the final scene with Astrid. I think Carrie will see the person she loves in Quinn when she sees him next!

There is just nothing that indicates Carrie is sexually attracted to Quinn these days.

COUNTERARGUMENT: Well, she certainly hasn't seen him in the best shape this season. But, she wasn't exactly dropping major hints that she had the hots for him in season 4, when she was arguing with him all the time, and they ended up kissing by the finale! What makes Quarrie great is their sexual TENSION. I personally see sparks, even when they're fighting. If they were super nice to each other throughout season 6, they just wouldn't be the Quarrie we know and love. We might not be anticipating for them to reunite, reconcile, and consummate this relationship as much. They're trying to sustain our interest throughout the season!

Carrie loves Quinn, but she's not IN LOVE with him.

COUNTERARGUMENT: Even though she hasn't said the words, her facial expressions, desire to save and defend him at every turn, putting her relationship on a similar level of intensity as her relationship with Brody--all of this conveys to me that she loves him in every sense of the word. We knew Quinn loved Carrie before we heard the letter, too. We definitely get the hint, but thanks for the receipts anyway!

Quinn is going to doubt Carrie's love for him because of Dar's statement that Carrie only cares for him out of guilt.

COUNTERARGUMENT: I think (hope!) Quinn knows better than to trust Dar at this point, even though Dar knows that Quinn feels insecure about the idea that he can be loved (as does Carrie--remember that random road trip to Missouri?). But, Quinn received affirmation from Astrid that he can be loved, and he might receive a similar "more than that..." statement from Carrie.

But Carrie DID save Quinn out of guilt.

COUNTERARGUMENT: Sorry, but nope. I'm not saying that she didn't feel any guilt at all, but there is a reason that we were hearing the love letter in the background as Carrie looked at the light shining on his face in the S5 finale. None of this conveyed perplexity about feeling guilty. It was all about love. Carrie was willing to let Brody and even Saul die, but it's different with Quinn. She cannot lose him. It's not that she can't lose him because she would feel too guilty if he died. She can't lose him because she loves this person deeply.

But Claire Danes said--

COUNTERARGUMENT: Nope. I know that interrupting is completely rude, but I'm going to stop you there. You think she is going to spoil the plot for you? Do you know if she had even read all of the season 6 episode scripts at the time they were filming that interview? These interviews are not canon. They're just PR, OPINIONS of the cast, and they should sometimes be taken with a grain of salt. F. Murray Abraham told Kelly Ripa a funny "spoiler" that Dar and Carrie were going to get married in S6. Also, if you take Claire Danes' words as Bible, she also said on Ellen that her primary wish for Carrie was to see her happy and in domestic bliss one day. Quinn should be in this pretty picture, no?

Carrie can't sleep with Quinn if she wants him to live! Everyone she sleeps with ends up DEAD. She's a black widow!

COUNTERARGUMENT: Too bad that black widow charm didn't work on our dear Jonas, who we assume is still walking around Berlin. Also, I'll let you in on a little secret: Quinn's plot armor protects him against Carrie's black widow lady parts. He will live, folks!

Quarrie's relationship isn't about sex. Carrie even told the therapist in episode 9 that their relationship is not intense in a physical way.

COUNTERARGUMENT: Well, regarding episode 9 specifically, she probably wouldn't have gotten that okay to visit her daughter if she hadn't made it clear that she wasn't putting a sexual relationship over her daughter's safety by bringing Quinn into her home. Also, I took that line as a hint that their relationship isn't physical YET. She's clearly stating a fact here, but relationships can change over time! And, of course, their relationship goes way beyond sex. It's a deep, lasting love that transcends physical attraction. But can't we have our cake and eat it, too, just once? Carrie spent a lot of time in that chapel in S5, but she didn't turn into a nun.

Quinn is too intense for Carrie. They won't have sex because they're probably priming her pairing with a normal like Reda, Otto, Nate, or Max.

COUNTERARGUMENT: Well, Carrie's foray into normalism with Jonas certainly didn't work out too well in the end, right? If Carrie were going to be paired with Reda, Otto, or Max, then there would have been more obvious sexual tension by now, or she would have already slept with them. She wouldn't have told Otto "IT'S NOT" if there were any chance for him whatsoever. I think Carrie prefers someone who is better at tracing calls (Quinn!) than Nate. Also, Carrie likes intensity sometimes, and Quinn likes normalcy sometimes, so it's not like they're cookie-cutter characters. Bottom line is that we're too close to the finish line for a new endgame love interest. Quinn was introduced in season 2, leaving plenty of time to develop the relationship, and it would not be good storytelling to pair her with a random or an old friend she was never sexually attracted to in the end.

There is simply no time for it.

COUNTERARGUMENT: It really doesn't require that much screen time, and they don't have to show everything (unfortunately). Homeland sex scenes are usually not long or drawn-out (not that we wouldn't mind, for Quarrie!). Also, the show can't be constant action for the last three episodes. Moments of action are often balanced by moments of quiet. Maybe they'll balance Saul or Dar-oriented action sequences with Quarrie intimacy, or the Quarrie intimacy scenes will take place in a brief period after they've completed part of a mission.

They're going to postpone Quarrie as long as possible, and there are at least two seasons left in the series.

COUNTERARGUMENT: Maybe, but that doesn't mean intimacy is off the table this season. We had a kiss in S4, a written declaration of love in S5, and now it is time to take it to the next level in S6. Intimacy in S6 doesn't mean they're getting married and buying a house in the Hamptons by the S6 finale. There can and will be more drama in store for these two.

This Dar stuff...complicates things.

COUNTERARGUMENT: Does it really, though--at least, on the Quarrie front? If Quinn's backstory is revealed in detail to Carrie, then Carrie will officially know all (well, most) of his shit, and he'll know hers. If she rejected him because she thought all of this was too much for her, or because she felt pity rather than love for him, then she wouldn't be the compassionate heroine we know. She often sees the good and lovable in the worst or saddest of people. Quinn, much like Carrie, is searching for someone to love and love him in return, without exploitation, as he has admitted in many ways that he cannot/does not want to be alone. It will be beautiful to see how Carrie and Quinn find true, lasting love and meaningful intimacy after all of their respective self-doubting. If anything, the Dar backstory provides more motivation, rather than deterrence, for Quarrie to share a loving, intimate moment this season. Thank you to sunshine (from the forum) for contributing this con and counterargument!

#season sex #carrie x quinn #quarrie #wth forum #homeland #homeland meta #sheba

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chelssology · 6 years

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CHAPTER 2017: IMPORTANT LESSONS OF LIFE

I can't tell you what the most important lesson learned in life is. But I can tell you that I'm really freaking excited for 2018.

1993-2017 - I seemed to have adopted the common invincibility attitude of the naive. As if I'm going to live a happy go lucky life until I'm 200 years old where nothing bad or traumatic will happen to me. 2017 hit me hard and made me realize that time and life is not guaranteed. And with this realization came the humbling lessons from chapters of my story. A story isn't worth the read without a good plot and moral. I don't know about you but, I'm hoping to write a good one.

Here are some life lessons I have learned this past year that will hopefully make life a little easier.

1. TIME WAITS FOR NO ONE Every single year, my new years goal is to take control of my time management and be punctual. Who knew it's physically possible to get progressively worst at something after making a goal to do better. But it is. And I, Chelsea the 'Deadliner', am a testimony to that. It is so important to RESPECT PEOPLE'S TIME. Whether you think the meeting with your passive agressive boss, that date with the rando from that party your friend talked you into going on, or that dentist appointment which you avoid all year round is important to you or not - showing up late to a commitment shows that you are unreliable, irresponsible and straight up rude. And not only can it leave a bad impression on people, but you can also miss out on opportunities because of your poor time management. You don't want to miss out on the BIGGEST AUDITION OF YOUR LIFE because of this. Trust me on this one :(

2. TRUST THE UNIVERSE'S TIMING If the universe loves me so much, why would it put me through such hardships? Call me cliche or whatever, but I'm a firm believer in everything happens for a reason. I literally convinced myself that these certain things - good and bad - have happened to me because the world is preparing me for success. I believe that the strongest warriors are equipped by their past battles. You may feel like you're defeated and you've lost the fight. But don't give up. You have your secret weapon to life. You just have to find it.

3. TIME IS MONEY I hope none of us are investing our sacred time and energy in something we hate in 2018. Whether it's a relationship, job or lifestyle, everything you do is a choice. But more importantly, everything you do is an investment. Choose wisely.

I've done all the necessary research and made solid connections in 2017 to prepare for 2018 - my year of entrepreneurship. I'm working hard and making the difficult yet necessary cuts to limit my time working for others and in turn, find more time to work on myself. There's really no secret formula here... You just have to believe in yourself and your craft enough to take the risk and make the investment. To all you aspiring models - newsflash. Photo shoots aren't free. Your portfolio will probably cost you a pretty penny. Instead of aging your skin sulking over the hidden fees, use your energy to practice posing and marketing yourself in the industry. And this goes with anything. The best investment is the one you make in yourself.

4. DON'T SELL YOURSELF SHORT If you're embarking on the exciting path of entrepreneurship, congratulations! We're in this together. My intention of starting this blog was not to start an online business and capitalize off my posts. Not at all. But after a few random successes and the ability to reach and attract an audience I didn't even know existed nor cared, I thought hmmm, I need to place a price tag on my brand. If you want me to promote your business to my audience, expect to pay. If you want me to write an article for you, expect to pay. If you want me to model your designs, EXPECT TO PAY. Why give you my talent, skill and audience in exchange for a shorter day? At the end of the day, time is money and I AM MONEY. Idk... many people like to sit on their high horse and believe they are doing someone else a favour when hiring them for free by "putting them on" and giving them a "great opportunity". And don't lower your rates! I'm learning to actually charge 15-20% higher than the initial rate of pay offered. As long as you are delivering high quality work and offering your client great value, you should not feel guilty for having a high price tag, or even a price tag for that matter.

5. COMPARISON IS THE THIEF OF JOY I spent all of 2016 comparing. Although I can honestly say I compared less in 2017, I learned that comparison is the thief of joy. Want to know how to instantly make someone genuinely upset? Show them a picture of their ex with their attractive new partner... Comparison usually robs me of all feelings of satisfaction, as we're constantly looking at what we don't have and what they do have. But comparison will happen inevitably, and instead of having it bring negativity, let's condition ourselves to elicit positive outcomes. I've learned that comparison is only beneficial when it fosters inspiration. Comparison now motivates me to do better and I place high value on my thoughts and the people, places and things I surround myself with, as I believe these things shape one's character and success. Who says you can't be traveling the world and being your own boss like your favorite travel blogger? Who says you can't be rocking the runway for Kanye like your favorite model? And who FREAKING SAYS YOU CAN'T LIVE LIFE AND ENJOY DOING IT. The only person who says it is you.. In 2018, let's strive to be compared to.

6. ACCOUNTABILITY IS KING This was a hard lesson for me this year. I hate to admit that I have a hard time taking accountability for my actions. Especially when I'm in the wrong. But everything is a work in progress, right? If we always "never did anything wrong", then how can one become better? As your chapters unfold and life is happening to you, you need to commit to a storyline and take ownership of your plot. And always remember that you are a character in someone's story - whether you're the antagonist or protagonist - recognize your role in someone's storyline and realize the effect you have on other characters. I've ruined many relationships failing to do so. Not everything is all about you, Chels.

7. WIN WITHOUT BOASTING & LOSE WITHOUT EXCUSES It's easy to claim responsibility when things go well, but we always seem to make excuses when they don't. I'm learning that my work speaks volumes and a voice isn't needed when your work speaks for itself. If you're finding success, that's amazing. Keep up with the strategy and keep grinding. It's definitely important to recognize your achievements and monitor your growth, but don't be afraid to recognize your faults and failures in the same breath. It's a lot easier to post yourself living your best life on the islands of Southern Thailand than it is to post yourself living the current broke life somewhere else.

8. SAY LESS Again, your work speaks volumes. Definitely exercise your voice and speak your truth (or the digitally edited version). But don't let your talk overpower your walk. Just say less.

9. DON'T FEEL BAD ABOUT OUTGROWING PEOPLE It's insane to me how quickly my circle enclosed. Especially while living abroad. My childhood friends were on different paths of life and doing different, yet more conventional, things. For me, if you're not with me experiencing something, then that's kind of your loss. Don't expect me to help you relive it by continuously retelling the story. Or don't be a total bitch and totally ignore the fact that I've been away and we haven't seen each other in years, but then continue to fill me in on your lame boyfriend drama and not fail to mention everything you've done right in the past year. Truth is, I probably don't care. And if I'm not fucking with your vibe anymore, don't be surprised we lose touch. We've already lost touch, homie. And it doesn't matter if we were playing hopscotch at daycare back in the day. Everyone is in your life at a certain moment for a reason. And sometimes after a few chapters, that character may not be needed anymore. They're no longer helping writing your story, you know? Instead, they're giving you writer's block.

10. IT'S NOT YOUR JOB TO GET PEOPLE TO LIKE YOU. IT'S YOUR JOB TO LIKE PEOPLE I am not in control of homeboy or homegirl's emotions. Their feelings are beyond me. All I can do is put forth my best self and give people the same opportunity I'd like to be given. Have an open mind when it comes to networking, friendships and even relationships (to an extent..). When I stop caring about what other's think of me and focus on being the most present and best version of me, then I usually come home winning. One way or another. Just don't be a bitch, please.

I hope some of y'all can relate and these life lessons of 2017 have resonated with some of you. If they have, I'd love to hear about it in the comment section. What was your most important life lesson so far?

Peace & Love,

Chelsea.

#life lessons #lessons of life #things I've learned in 2017 #life lessons of 2017 #life lessons in my twenties #healthy life #self care #lessons in life #lessons in your twenties

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womenofcolor15 · 4 years

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MANIFEST EVERYTHING: Kamie Crawford Is The New-Cost On ‘Catfish’ & Season 8 Is Already INSANE!

Kamie Crawford is the new, permanent co-host of MTV’s popular series “Catfish.” And her first day as the official co-host …well, let’s just say things got SUPER heated. More inside…

From the pageant world to television! Kamie Crawford just inked a new gig!

If you're a fan of the MTV show "Catfish" then you know co-host Max Joseph dipped out on his homie/co-host Nev Schulman after seven seasons to further his filmmaking career. Since then, the show has featured guest co-hosts - one of them being former Miss USA Teen USA Kamie Crawford.

Fans, producers and execs apparently loved her vibe on the show, so she's now the new "Catfish" co-host!

HONORED TO BE THE NEW CO-HOST OF @CatfishMTV!!!! NO ONE will ever replace @maxjoseph, but I feel so blessed and excited to be @NevSchulman’s new sidekick!!!

SEASON 8 PREMIERE’S TONIGHT AT 8/7c!!! Your support & love means everything to me. THANK YOU!!!! pic.twitter.com/OeW6rdO64D

— Kamie Crawford (@TheRealKamie) January 8, 2020

It wasn't an easy road for Kamie - who was the first woman from Maryland to win Miss Teen USA - to land the gig. Chick worked hard for the spot, guest hosting on the show in 2018 & 2019. All of her hard work paid off because she's now co-hosting on one of her all-time favorite TV shows. She shared her journey on Instagram about how she made her life changing move to LA and leveled up! When she was first approached about the guest co-hosting gig, she thought she was being "catfished" herself. Ha!

"I got an email from @kroesnews asking me if I’d be interested in guest cohosting an episode of one of my all time favorite shows. TBH - I thought I was being Catfished my damn self, but I went along with it because YOLO," she wrote on Instagram.

"Fast forward to me being asked to come back again and again and again & I felt like my life was made. All of the support I got from fans of the show made me feel absolutely amazing, but I was just happy to be there for as long as they would have me. Fast forward again to July 2019 when I got the call from my buddy @nevschulman asking me if I was down to make it official as his new co-host & me crying tears of joy in the middle of Miami airport," she said.

Aww!

The 27-year-old ended her caption with these inspirational hashtags: JesusIsReal #ManifestEverything.

Check it:

View this post on Instagram

*DISCLAIMER: @mtvcatfish fans don’t come for me for this - you’ll find out on tonight’s premiere episode, it wasn’t me *shaggy voice* - @nevschulman did it!!! I MAX Story Time : In September 2018, the same week I made my career/life changing move to LA, I got an email from @kroesnews asking me if I’d be interested in guest cohosting an episode of one of my all time favorite shows. TBH - I thought I was being Catfished my damn self, but I went along with it because YOLO Fast forward to me being asked to come back again and again and again & I felt like my life was made. All of the support I got from fans of the show made me feel absolutely amazing, but I was just happy to be there for as long as they would have me. Fast forward again to July 2019 when I got the call from my buddy @nevschulman asking me if I was down to make it official as his new co-host & me crying tears of joy in the middle of Miami airport SO much has happened over the past few months and OF COURSE I wanted to shout it from the rooftops and tell all of you the tea but I had to keep it a secret and its been SO hard because you guys have given me the most incredible outpouring of love, support and acceptance and I am beyond grateful. I’m sorry I haven’t been able to share, but TODAY I CAN FINALLY SAY - I AM THE NEW CO-HOST OF @MTVCATFISH AND I LITERALLY COULDN’T HAVE GOTTEN HERE WITHOUT YOU My journey as a host has been 7 years in the making and this is the greatest, proudest moment of my career/life. I am so blessed and so honored to be able to be in this position. I also want to say for the record that NO ONE can replace the silver fox, the GOAT, the man with the cam - @maxjoseph & I’m not trying to!!! But I hope I can make him, Nev & Catfish fans proud as we move into Season 8 & BEYOND! Thank you all for the 5 millionth time, thank you to @kroesnews & @mtv for not catfishing me & for believing in me & thank you to our entire production crew @criticalcontent + Nev for welcoming me with open arms. LET’S F*CKING DO THISSSSS!!!! #CATFISH SEASON 8 BEGINS TONIGHT AT 8/7c!!!!!!! #JesusIsReal #ManifestEverything

A post shared by Kamie Crawford (@therealkamie) on Jan 8, 2020 at 9:21am PST

Congrats, Kamie!

Just think of this as your initiation, @therealkamie. #Catfish pic.twitter.com/Ganu4Ji5W5

— Catfish (@CatfishMTV) January 10, 2020

So, the first episode of Season 8 premiered Wednesday night and y'all! The catfish on this episode was on a milli. Chick had the worst attitude ever and even resulted in calling Kamie a "b*tch"... several times.

So here's what happened... **SPOILER ALERT**

Imagine thinking you're talking to Tamar Braxton and your girlfriend, so you get on a plane down the coast to meet them, only to ... get flaked on. What a concept. #Catfish pic.twitter.com/r1AHVZzZP8

— Catfish (@CatfishMTV) January 10, 2020

A woman named Red thought she had been chatting with a woman named "Jalissa" - who made claims that she was Tamar Braxton's hair stylist - for six years, but never video chatted. They would speak on the phone, but every time Red asked "Jalissa" to video chat, she would come up with some excuse. Red said was introduced to "Jalissa" after getting in contact with famed hairstylist/reality star Shekinah Jo on Facebook. Red also believed she was a group chat with "Jalissa," Tamar Braxton and Shekinah Jo. Chile...

"Jalissa" told Red she was in LA doing hair, so Red copped a plane ticket to go see her. When she gets there, "Jalissa" stops responding. Oh, and this wasn't the first time "Jalissa" flaked on Red over the six years they had been communicating.

Once Nev and Kamie get to LA to meet Red, they reached out to "Jalissa" to try and meet up. "Jalissa" said she had already left LA and was back in Texas, so Nev offered to fly her "back" to LA. That's when "Jalissa" revealed her real name as Ashley Taylor in order to get the flight booked. Bloop!

"Jalissa" aka Ashley - who said it was her first time even being in LA - pulled up on Red, Nev & Kamie in a park and soon as she stepped out of the car, Red was visibly devastated. Ashley looked NOTHING like the picture she was using to Catfish. Well, obvi. Once she walked up to them she was extremely rude and nasty and things got ugly.

Watch their heated exchange below:

youtube

Kamie did an exceptional job keeping her composure because Ashely was really doing the MOST.

During their second meeting, Ashley even admitted to having up to 3,000 different profiles due to the fact that she has been dealing with a lot of issues with a sick mother and not having real-life friends. Hmph. The 24-year-old catfish said she has been using fake profiles since the age of 12.

Of course, Twitter reacted the foolishness and defended Kamie in the process:

How tf shorty mad, but you the one lying! And thennnn wanna call Kamie a bitch for telling the truth #Catfish pic.twitter.com/NevPyyuEMk

— La’Nayshaaaa (@Lanayshaaaa) January 9, 2020

She really just came for my girl Kamie for no reason. Me when she called her a bitch : #Catfish pic.twitter.com/1VF0YY8p3D

— K (@Kaiilaa2) January 9, 2020

blockquote class="twitter-tweet">

Kamie said don't come for me #CatfishMTV #Catfish pic.twitter.com/hYH1iMaal9

— Eslanda86 (@helen153425) January 10, 2020

Oh nah you need to stop coming for Kamie #Catfish pic.twitter.com/yuKPAZdV9n

— Tasha (@laiina_) January 9, 2020

Kamie deserves an award for how calm she stayed #Catfish

— dom (@beaulieu_dom) January 9, 2020

Needless to say, Red blocked Ashley (in fact, she did it at the table during their 2nd meeting) and has moved on. Ashley told Nev and Kamie she's still out here catfishing, so be careful y'all!

In case you missed, YBF founder Natasha Eubanks chopped it up with Kamie on TheYBF Podcast where they dished on sex as a curvy girl, dating, IG Frauds (ha!) and more. Take a listen below:

The next episode of "Catfish" airs next Wednesday at 8/7c on MTV!

EXTRAS:

1. Parents of four black NYC students are planning to file a $12 million lawsuit against a school district after a teacher compared them to moneys in a class slideshow. STORY

Photo: Kamie's IG

[Read More ...] source http://theybf.com/2020/01/10/manifest-everything-kamie-crawford-is-the-new-cost-on-%E2%80%98catfish%E2%80%99-the-season-8-premiere-epi

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yaldev · 5 years

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Sabotage (A Fanfic by u/ThomasGideonChan!)

Howdy y'all! r/FantasyWorldbuilding had a fanfiction contest recently in which participants wrote fanfiction pieces based on the world of another user. Sir u/GideonThomasChan won first place with his fanfiction piece based on Yaldev! I feel honoured that a writer with diction this impressive chose my project to write for, and that the judges thought it was good enough to claim victory. It's hard to convey my excitement without sounding immature, and I have to at least pretend I'm trying to be professional with this. I've taken the liberty of giving Sabotage a brief polish for spelling/grammar and posting it here. Enjoy! OR ELSE.

Jrumik stood atop the highest stack and slowly pried open his bleary eyes against the icy wind. Before him lay Crate City. Crate City, that monstrous and beautiful coagulation of spontaneous human innovation brought about by the sudden acknowledgement of survival in an inhospitable environ, ever since they had crashed near what remained of the derelict Fifteenyears Fortress. Within a few weeks, the captain had painstakingly imposed a rudimentary society upon several dozen people, which was bureaucratic and stable. Everybody had a role in this community, a brave young kingdom of plane crash survivors in what seemed to be a microcosm of human civilization. Far more than a few weeks had passed, and Jrumik had grown old - as had his inchoate beard. The role Jrumik was granted was that of the humble agrarian, for he was put in charge of a crate of artichoke seeds, in which there were fitted row after row of quaint, egg-shaped hydroponic pods.

Once he had descended from his roof, he climbed down the ladder for a while and when he reached the 3rd story he pulled open his packet of nitrate crystals and emptied it into each and every pod. Occasionally he would lose himself in the monotony of this new life and would retreat into a stupor. There was no realm finer than that of his own imagination as he pruned away at vegetables all day. On one such morning he was rudely interrupted from a duel against a nine-headed serpent demon by sudden clamouring outdoors – had the infantry of the necromancer Kadaraveth arrived at last? Nay, it would seem, for he tumbled through the mists into the grim and boring domain of reality – and there were few aspects of reality which Jrumik despised quite as much as the outdoors, for the gelid gales of the vertiginous Flux Mountains brought a most emasculating chill upon his loins.

His colleague Demdoch had bolted and Jrumik followed after him, descending two levels and darting out the door. His foot struck smooth metal, and he beheld before him a caterwauling throng. Ahead of them they were faced by a wall of utter blinding radiance – The Ascended Empire. Immediately his hands clasped over his face, shuddering. He felt the sting of mana upon his skin. When his eyes finally adjusted, he realized that he stood in the monstrous shadow of a skyship, which loomed as inevitable as death above them as it cast its baleful, glaring lights upon Crate City. The light poles became inert, lifeless things as their calm blue glow was overwhelmed by that above. Hurricanes of air which smelled like burning plastic blew down on them, and a frigid voice demanded not that they hop aboard to return to the city from which they had first departed months ago, but to instead submit to the Empire’s governance and become another bulwark of civilization. Higher standards of living were promised. Generous wages were guaranteed. The Captain refused, and he was met with an ultimatum: deliver tribute, or else they would carpet bomb Crate City and construct a shiny new city on their ashes, founded by opportunistic intention instead of coincidence. The Captain agreed.

When the first quota of three crates of edible vegetable matter was carried out, Jrumik stowed away in a bed of spinach and confined himself to several hours of caterwauling and uncertainty, the manhandling of machines tossing him about and being completely unable to know which ones were. Long ago, his memory of a skyship’s interiors had rusted, and thus every time he felt a lurch he did not know whether there was a dip in the conveyor belt or that he was en route to the incinerator. Finally the ominous mechanical noises ceased and he found himself in the vicinity of human sounds. Would they bayonet him? Seemed not: they had begun to take off.

His fingers sank into the spinach. He waited, daydreaming restlessly, until the silence beyond the crate finally echoed that within. Querulously he emerged from the crate and snuck about the cargo room. The darkness had accustomed his eyes to it, and he could fully perceive the outline of every object in the room. Miraculously, the layout of the standard sky-ship of the Ascended Empire was in his consciousness, emerging from some half-remembered memory of what life was like in the hours prior to the crash. He skulked about the darkness, his heartbeats reverberating throughout the polished corridors – Jrumik was torn between allocating his consciousness towards stilling his mind, or just carrying on.

Evidently he chose the latter, for miraculously he intuitively discovered the entrance to the bridge. He almost bit his tongue in two as he heard a deep, grumbling noise, and parted his teeth once he realized it was naught but snoring. The helmsman worked overtime, at the expense of the Empire. He crept past, tiptoeing, sweat dripping down his face; and ever so gently removed the sleeping helmsman from the control panel, at which he half-sat on the chair as if he was to bolt at any moment. Shutting his eyes, Jrumik briefly called back into his immediate mind through endless mists of half-remembered thoughts and residual daydreams, the intricacies of a standard-issue skyship computer. He exhaled, until there was nothing within him save for an immaculate silence, a perfect darkness. And at the very moment he found it, he began to type away like crazy, jamming at the keyboard, frantically sifting through the ship’s records, trying to pry the various levels of the program open. Then at last he succeeded. Rearing his head, he turned back to the computer and began to annihilate any mention of a rebel colony located amid the Flux Mountains, constructed haphazardly upon the metal floors of the Fifteenyears Fortress, a microcosm of another culture, another society. That fragile little bubble, hours away from being assimilated into the behemoth that was the Empire. He checked again and again whether there was any mention of it left anywhere else and prayed that there were none buried within the Ascended Empire’s flabby folds of bureaucratic paperwork. And should there be any, he hoped with all his might that they would remain buried for all eternity.

The peril of his situation dawned upon him in an instant. He was a stowaway on an enemy ship. Were they to find him he would be cast into the engine within the span of seconds – and were he to escape his presence would remain recorded by the ship’s cameras, and Crate City would be done for.

He walked back into his box and slept.

Yaldev is a fantasy/sci-fi worldbuilding project based entirely on Beeple art. It is the story of a world in magical pandemonium, of the nation which rose to conquer it, of this empire's inevitable collapse, and of the new world which emerged in its wake. The project has major themes about perspective, imperialism, nationalism, nature and the metaphysical battle of law against chaos. For more, check out our subreddit at r/yaldev!

#beeple #fantasy #scifi #worldbuilding #writing #everyday #surreal

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inexchangeforyoursoul · 6 years

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Not gonna lie… I wanted to double up on this one and put the next Nami chapter in here so there’s another long one after all that hiatus. But I see it's already massive at over 4k, so I'm not disappointed in myself. :p

ps have y'all ever tried to draw Law with Cora's smile? I did, a few years back. You may have even seen it. It's pure nightmare fuel...

25. Grandma: off

"Yeah, these are vanilla flavored," she concludes after Law had her taste the ones with a yellowish hue on them, even though the smell was a dead giveaway.

"You can have those, then," he states as he's nibbling on the remains of an unflavored one.

"You dislike vanilla?" Kat asks, being somewhat surprised at the information. Like, it's a sometimes food, true… but she also won't straight-out turn it down when being offered. Nor does she know anyone who would. Well, didn't know anyone, who would.

"Nope. Once every blue moon I'll accept it, but generally? I don't like vanilla. Nor raspberries, blackcurrants…" He leans back into the chair, thinking about; "... pineapples. Licorice. Green apples and yellow tomatoes…"

"... zoes dis list 'ave an end?" she asks, munching on a vanilla flavored piece.

"... eventually," he nods, then continues in the same breath: "Artichokes, brussels sprouts… aubergines. Caviar. It's a long one."

She swallows the mouthful of crackers. Must be as long as the list of enemies she never received, except it's all villainous food. "I'm also not a fan of a few you just mentioned, but sheesh... didn't realize you were this picky." She doesn't consider herself a picky eater at all, considering how she likes most stuff others turn their noses up to, but him…? That's a lot of items. Sure, most of these would be hard to notice as they are relatively uncommon, but still. Plus there's bread. And raisins. And god knows, what else.

"Now you know. Deal with it," he states, biting into his last plain cracker.

"... you really are a princess." A princess perpetually stuck between Criminal brand and haute couture. She's… tempted to sneak a pea under the mattress.

"And her highness is about to give you new instructions, so get your shit together," he states then, getting up from his seat that's been turned towards the bed for the impromptu tea party. Kat follows him to the chest of drawers just as he motions her to get her ass over there.

"So," Law starts once having some mouth space to work with; "I guess you've already noticed these," he says, opening one of the small chestlets halfway. She nods.

"Today you will try to pop stuff inside them. Take this button, for example," he says, already putting it into her hand; "It's small enough to fit any of these; once you've managed to do that, take them out again. Without looking inside, of course. Start with the biggest one, proceed from there once you've done it without a hitch three times in a row, that is to say, the box remained intact." Having finished the briefing, he stuffs the remainders of the rice cracker into his mouth and digs out the biggest specimen from the bottom of the brick pile.

"..." The explanation was easy enough to follow, but… "I, um… wouldn't it be bad if I cut out too many pieces by accident?" There can be only so many boxes she can ruin and holes that can be made...

"Things you break that way, you can repair yourself… and I have a wee little feeling that you already know how to reassemble stuff. Boxes don't need surgical hands if you mess up, you're good to go. Godspeed," he says as he's stepping back to his chair, swatting her back while at it. He's gonna have another cup of that green tea.

"Oh… okay." Basically, if she was handed a plate broken in two… she could fix it as if it had always been under the fruit's influence, huh? Wow… it seems super logical, but she didn't think of that. Maybe because it would have been a little too convenient, considering all the stuff she can do already. A power that's all kinds of broken, indeed; and one which is, funnily enough, exceptionally good at un-breaking things.

Back to the task at hand, however… it… is kind of a relief that she has to do something else for a change, no lie. Even if it's just the next level of the same task. Well then… attagirl.

As expected and kind of feared, the operation just doesn't happen to be something within her skill range. If nothing else, the sheer challenge that the simple task poses is driving her will to crack the fucking, godforsaken, lousy code already. She's never been so pissed at random inanimate objects before. Not even the croissant from the other day.

She won't be able to pull off the freeing of the button for a while, that's for sure, but she's infuriatingly close to get to the solution of putting the button in without mass producing malformed guitar picks and miniature honeycomb statues, for all it's worth. (Could it be that her desk is actually fixed at home…? It would be nice to know.)

Law meanwhile is checking on her briefly every now and then… and has written some additional shit into this diary thing after a few occasions. For some reason, this doesn't sit all that well with her, but maybe it's just the fact that getting evaluated this way reminds her of elementary school. More specifically, the one art teacher who kept circling across the classroom like a vulture and wouldn't say anything, just write in a seemingly liberal note after the bells rang. It was a lucky dip of fours and the rare five for her; her taste clashed somewhat with hers, but since she was an overall nice and eager girl, the woman let it slide. Others weren't so... well, lucky. This teacher left fairly quickly as a number of parents complained about their otherwise excelling students getting a gracious 3, if not a barely passing 2 at the end of the first year of her work; the staff were also not exactly a fan of her, so there was little fuss. What even was her deal…?

Law waving a hand in front of her face pulls Kat back from the self-indulgent reminiscence.

"... there, now you're paying attention… It's about half past one, if you're hungry, be free to leave. Just come back within an hour or so, okay?"

"Oh, um… alright." Did she not notice him addressing her? Man, that's embarrassing… about as much as her stomach wanting attention all of a sudden and not being shy about it, either. Getting really tired, too… may have been trying too hard? A cup of coffee is in order for sure. She barely even remembers doing this for more than an hour…

The phenomenon is not foreign to her, although usually it's with something she enjoys. It always feels like waking from a nap wondering what day or year it is, except she's wide awake all along. Boy, does she hate when this happens at an inappropriate time.

Law wrinkles his brows in mild worry; she's absolutely out of it. Has been all day, to be honest. "... look, if… if you're like this because of yesterday evening, it's fine. Forget what I've just said and try to get your head clear before you come back instead, alright? You won't be able to work like this, take a walk, or whatever."

She blushes a little and starts fiddling with her thumbs; she's scattered enough for it to be beyond obvious… sheesh. "... okay."

Taking a walk seems definitely the way to go, she ponders over her lunch a few minutes later, still in some kind of trance; she's not up for doodling right now and it occurred to her that singing is a no-no. However, she also doesn't like to err around without a goal. Perhaps she could take a look at the cafe, or get more chestnuts… or… hm, there's been some stuffed animals on display, too, right? That seems to be something worth looking into. She has a stupid plan, after all.

As soon as she hops ashore a little after 2 o'clock, a familiar figure appears en route to the fair; Fugu seems to be returning with quite a lot of groceries.

"Hi," Kat waves awkwardly as they cross paths; she considered going the longer way, but… if he noticed her, too, it would have been really rude, wouldn't it. Take it like the fake man you are at the moment. And in general.

"Good day to you, too, Miss," the man greets her, slowing down a little, which she does herself; "are you going out to shop, too? Or is it just a walk?"

"A little bit of both…. I've been a dunce all day, so Law suggested I unwind somehow," she confesses while rubbing the sideburns, thinking back at the rather embarrassing convo.

He nods solemnly. "It is a good decision to step outside. Spending too much time down there can make one dull fast."

"Can't argue with that," she sighs. Not leaving her room in general is one thing, but cooking pretty much all day below deck in the dark is not something she could get used to on the long run. Travelling on that tin can must suck really bad… honestly, Law should have also come out. How many times has he left that thing since they've been like this? Up to five times? Next time, she's dragging him with her. Seriously, how the hell has he been surviving this in her body?! Anyway… "That sure is a lot of stuff you have, though… don't you need help with that?"

The man cracks a smile, thinking back to some past shopping adventures. "The others don't appreciate me taking my time… and the nagging kind of ruins the experience, you know? Speaking of which, though… I actually am running late today, so I'll be on my way. See you around, Miss, and have a good time!" With that, Fugu is already on his way at double the speed he came thus far to reach his alternate shadow that never met up with her.

"Thanks… same to you!" she waves in vain as there's noone to see the action, also picking up pace. She definitely won't want to walk out all the way to the new docks an hour away, there's nothing to see there apart from new ships and the hill with the pretty houses where rich traders and the odd noble live. The furthest parts of the fair will be about half an hour away, where a small chapel signals the end of the old district, but fast walker on longer legs than usual or not, that also would be a waste of time, to be honest… all in all, she shouldn't be out for more than fifteen or twenty minutes altogether for this. She asked for the coffee to be made for half past two, so she's got all the motivation she needs to get back in time, too.

First things first, Kat lets the nice smells seduce her and she gives into the temptation of another small bag of chestnuts even though she's not really hungry; thankfully, there's someone else there instead of the weirdo from the other day. Passing the notice board, she's surprised to see that two of the more 'famous' teens from the high-class parts have gone missing. Finds it hard to be worried a few seconds later upon noticing that they've not come home yesterday night; seeing how they are troublemakers, spending the night elsewhere wouldn't be much of a downgrade. But apparently, they've told their parents until now when they stayed out after curfew, they must be thinking of the worst, considering the news lately. That's kind of nice to know.

She skims the other stuff; apart from some job offers and wanted posters, all she can find is another notice from the police stating that the group from last Tuesday that's been taken into custody will be given over to a marine ship Saturday afternoon at 8. Kat raises a brow; while they did almost kill-slash-kidnap her and a bunch of people last week, why would they announce this detail… reading on, she comes to a halt with an 'oooh'. Alright, she can see the point now. According to their information, former fleet admiral Sengoku will be accompanying some greenhorn marines on the ship. Someone must be a fan. Regardless… she better keep low that day, maybe avoid coming outside altogether. Taking a mental note and swatting the worrisome thoughts about the port town disappearances into little clouds, she moves on. Walking deeper into the cheap stuff, she eventually does notice what she came for: a place with stuffed animals galore.

She takes a quick look around, and her eyes zero in on a really big, white teddy bear in the middle of a pile; it looks exceptionally fluffy. But, is it as soft as it looks? She steps over to it and slides a finger down its arm; yes... yes! That is absolutely the softest goddamn plushie that has ever graced her skin. Or Law's, but who the fuck cares. And it's… oh. Oh, boy. 12000 Bellys. Um… hm. Reconsidering.

As amazing it would be to shove this thing into his face as soon as she arrives… as a one-off prank and a useless gift, this really ain't worth the money. She also really ought to use the huge canvas she bought for like eight a while back, stroking it gently and contemplatively is not gonna get her anywhere. All it will do is drench the cotton in stinky human body oils.

Taking another look around, she spots a few more bears; she slides over most of them immediately, as they do not seem to fulfill her questionable standards regarding this purchase. One's too goofy, another is an unsympathetic, weirdly mixed brown color, and the third… she's not sure what kind of clothing that blinding neon vomit is supposed to be. She eventually spots another round ear hiding behind a pink doskoi panda. She pulls it out and… seems like a jackpot. At least it does look way too determined for an off-white chap with its black and white backpack that can probably fit some cash, and the black shirt. Honestly, if either would be striped instead of what they are, this would look like one really, really proud burglar bear. Well, then… nothing in this pile is over a thousand, so...

Kat approaches the ships with a sprint, knowing that she was already over 15 minutes with this little detour before even starting to browse the teddies. The slalom between the old warehouses is not something she likes because of the drunkards and thugs like those two lost whippersnappers that hang out in these abandoned parts from evening till dawn, and the odd dead body that people find about once a year, but hey… it makes things quick. She sees the mast of the Sunny peek out from beyond the roofs; already there, thank god. Running towards the shore already, she spies a lot of small… somethings around the last corner by the sea. It could be puke... but… nope. She slows down for a moment and squints; it's… sunflower seed shells. At least two average packages worth; someone must have come all the way out here to the two ships last night to sate their need, which looks like a straight-out addiction. Thinking about it, though, not only has she not seen any unsavory puddles, but the area has been really quiet in the past week or so, even if the people on the main street would cover up most of the noise anyhow… perhaps knowing that there are formidable pirates docking nearby has them worried…. or the more frequent patrols during the festival smoked them out at last? Who knows, really; she just hopes that the peace will be felt for a few more weeks. Sleeping by an open window is risky, because she cannot know when people will get too close to her quarters and break bottles or scream… but when they don't, it's the best sleep she can get apart from the very limited warm winter evenings, when she's had comfort food and a long, hot bath she reserves for the occasions. Having actual winter weather when appropriate is nice.

Kat finds it easier to crawl onto the huge ship by boarding the Tang first, since the ladder is somewhat suspended, so she takes the opportunity to have a quick look around for Law; by some kind of miracle, he actually is out here, seemingly sending some of his crew she doesn't know much to do something downstairs in this very moment. One of them has a tool box… maybe something about the engine or plumbing, then.

"What's up down there?" Kat asks walking up to him, with the hand hiding the teddy turned back. She's always found blatant hiding of presents counterproductive… having something in a hand that's not easy to recognize, while still not bulletproof, is the superior strategy by far. The mostly intact chestnut bag being noisy in the other also helps.

"Some pipe seems to be leaking in the showers," Law responds, looking at an accounting book page. If they need to weld in a chunk with a small one, there should be enough stock, but if they'll have to replace it, or even worse, it's the main line… they will have to find a shop. The funds are not looking the best at the moment, though, and he's no gonna ask Nami. Hm… what are the chances that they could scavenge some from these old warehouses…? Would be nice to have Scan available right about now. Maybe he will open a Bepo petting zoo to raise money, this once, and perhaps rope in Carrot as well...

"... is that something that happens often?" How much piping and stuff even is there in this thing? "When underwater?"

"12-18% more likely than on surface dwelling ships, pressure changes and all. Still not as bad as when the ventilation croaks eight thousand deep, trust me," he answers, putting the green marker ribbon of the three available ones on the page, then slaps it shut. "And, have you pulled yourself together?" He asks, turning his attention to her, though he's somewhat distracted by the bag.

"..." She kind of wants to hear that story. But not now. "Been a little irresponsible, as you can see," she pokes her head towards the item; "you can snack on it, if you want to. Otherwise, I've yet to drink a coffee to make sure I keep being productive, but yeah… I guess a walk was really all I needed, thanks," she says, trying to keep the smile levels in check. "By the way," aaand there goes the effort, "here."

Just like that, Law gets to see eye to eye with a stuffed bear that looks as if it was ready to fight him.

He blinks a few times, brows pulling closer together in confusion and surprise.

"Iiit's for you." The statement starts question-like, then ends sounding matter-of-fact. She… didn't really think this far. And can't read shit from that reaction.

"... for me." She just… she's actually handing him a teddy bear. The fuck.

"Mhm." She nods. "One more for the collection."

"What for?" His perplexed state leaks through his voice; he also grabs the thing so he can see her proper again; can't think of any rational explanation. Unless it's a joke, that is. Certainly sounds like it.

She shrugs. "... just because." There is no real goal to be achieved here. She just wants to drown him in embarrassingly adorable bears, preferably with as many people witnessing it as possible. And watch him struggle with the situation... this is as close as she can get without going bankrupt.

This... doesn't exactly sit well with Law. Because, if he's right about thinking that she's trying to compensate for… whatever, really… this is getting out of hand, no matter the reason. He can feel his pulse picking up pace; she's been doing it all day. The rice crackers, and tea... She doesn't seem to be lying about the chestnuts being an impulse purchase, but she just offered them, too...

"... Kat-ya... we need to talk."

Although the phrase makes her uneasy, somehow, the fact that he just used that name again shoos the other feeling to the side. "Oh... did a million years pass already?" she asks with honest wonder. Or... could it have been just 'a thousand years' the other day…? Well, same difference in this case.

He set himself up on that one, didn't he…

Seeing Law's disgruntled face, she adds: "Sorry, sorry... shoot away."

He lets out a sigh. "Look, about this…" he takes a passing look at the bear; "... aggressive attention and care stunt you're pulling... I do appreciate the sentiment, but stop. Being stalked by a surrogate grandma is not something I want, ever." Actually, let's just... "Please." He's low-key willing to get on his knees and beg if it becomes too embarrassing for him.

She's somewhat ashamed at his request and just a bit disappointed upon hearing that; "Oh... okay. Sorry."

Law reaches up and pulls at her ear gently, which is followed by the most unconvincing, little 'ow' on her side. "And stop apologizing for every little thing, sheesh. I'm just asking you to moderate yourself and take it down a notch, alright?" A whole 20 notches. She just bought him a goddamn teddy bear, for fuck's sake. One that is, in fact, sporting the same half-determined, half-smug expression he has on quite often. Be it a joke, poking fun at him or something genuine, this is too much. And it's, uh... kind of weirding him out?

He can't even remember the last time someone bought him something tacky that wasn't his crew. Or, well, the Strawhats as of a few weeks back. And he can't really tell her to fuck off because of this whole situation they are locked in. They have already passed the stage where he actually would tell her something like that, having a good idea how hard she would take it, not to mention that it would make everything exponentially worse, and he… frankly, he has no idea how to handle this situation. How do you communicate with those who are not backstabbing, murderous, thieving jackasses, or of generally questionable morals? With, you know… people?

"Okay... then, I should handle you less like a princess, and more like..." she starts after a second, stopping Law's train of thought, then stops herself as well, trying to decide on something less baby-able; children won't do, of course, nor animals, uh... "a flower!" All they need is some light and water... and the occasional fertilizer! Boom!

Law decides to push his little crisis aside for the time being, and suppresses the snort upon being compared to a 'flower.' He'll have to figure out how to act as if he had some fucks to give later. "Both of those comparisons are really weird, considering you're talking about me, you know. But… I guess. If you want to put it like that."

She flashes a big, optimistic smile, which just… doesn't quite fit his face, and never will. Still, it's as if he just gave her a treat for being a good dog. Which is, frankly, quite amusing. He can practically see her wag her nonexistent tail... Pulling her leg from time to time will be tempting. "And? Will you actually be able to keep to it?"

"Sure," she answers, then speaks up again after a few seconds, musing; "Honestly, I just want to... well, see you less morose all of the time, if that makes sense." Knowing what she does now, the memory of him silently laughing at the aquarium while she was butchering his person became a hundred times more pleasant. As is the chuckle from earlier.

… he really should have just let her leave yesterday. This has already gotten uncomfortable, not to mention that it reeks of trouble. "Seriously, Kat… if you are doing this because of what I suspect- which you are, let's be honest,- but even if not… it's still not your job to make me happy."

… saying that out loud feels so weird. It's almost as if he's speaking a foreign tongue.

Her pep goes as suddenly as it came. Partly because, well… Law's right. Still… "I like making people smile and laugh, though," she mumbles.

She's a difficult one, alright. He gives his head a frustrated scratch; "I never said you couldn't try, just... everything has a time and place, okay?"

She grumbles something that must be an 'okay' while nodding. Meanwhile, Nami has appeared over the railing, and calls out to her almost immediately:

"Kat, coffee is ready! You like it with two sugars and milk, right?"

It takes her a second to shake off the embarrassment and address the question. "I do," she replies at last.

"Now go, get that coffee," Law instructs, poking her with the book; "And wipe that frown off your face, brooding is my job, capiche?" Even if he'll be forever weirded out by how his face looks with a genuine smile plastered over it.

She can't help, but crack an awkward smile a that. "Yeah." Another moment of hesitation later, she steps towards the rope ladder.

Law sighs and takes another look at the bear. Now… will this thing fit into the chest with the dozens of others he's gotten throughout the years?

#KMKY

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