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valeriethepussycats · 4 years

Text

All Night Long

Aka Regarding Dean

Beyoncé- all night long

Pairing- Dean x Black Reader, Sam x Reader( Best friends),Kelly x Reader(best friends)

Warning- cursing (and the episode. Everybody and they mama know how emotional this episode was.)

Summary- Sam gets his Best Friend and Rowena’s help to find a powerful family of witches after Dean gets hit by a spell that is rapidly erasing his memory did I forget to mention that’s she Dean’s Ex. What could possibly go wrong.

Y/f- your father name

F/h-favorite hairstyle

Your thoughts in italics.

A Wounded man running through the forest as fast as he can. He is bleeding from a wound on his side. He stops to make a call. Cellphone ringing.

“You have to. No! Listen to me...Get out of there.” The man voiced into the phone.

Dean is seen running after the man. He sees the man stopped by a tree and fires a shot at him.

“Just go! Now!”he uttered.

The man runs off again, leaving behind a smear of blood on the tree. Dean appears again looking for the man. He sees where his bullet hit and the smear of blood. He hears a rustling sound and heads towards it gun drawn. He comes upon the man on one knee facing another tree.

“You people. You never learn, do you? Always trying to run. “ Dean Announced.

The man turns around, and we see that he has carved something into the tree which is beginning to glow with a purple light.

“Dearmad!” The man yells.

There is a flash of purple and Dean is knocked to the ground unconscious.

○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○

Somewhere in upstate New York

A beautiful two-story yellow wrap around porch house that sits near a lake is where Y/n and Kelly are currently living to hide from supernaturals.

Kelly currently sitting down in a rocking chair in the living room with Y/n sitting on the couchWatching TV. ”It’s been bugging me for the past two days what’s going on with you and our neighbor I saw how he was lookin at you another day.” Kelly Announced unexpectedly to Y/n.

“Nothing and even if I wanted someone else I would look for similarities to Dean in them and that’s not fair.” Y/n replied in a calmly tone.

“You’re still love him” Kelly stated instead of asking.

“He still leaves messages of what’s going on with him, Sam and Cas.” Y/n said with a Controlled smile dodging Kelly’s question with ease.

“I was doing some reading on Angel Lore and found out that I’m going to die given brith.”

“Kelly.-“

“No this was my choice he is going to need mother and I want you to be his.”

“Kelly let’s worry about names before you give me The responsibility of taking care of a child ok” Y/n Informed Thoughtfully.

“I was thinking Y/f after my best friend father” Kelly Happily declared.

“No no you don’t have to do that what about Jack after my best friend father. “ Y/n replied with a kool-Aid smile.

“Ow.” Kelly grunted.

“Are you ok is something wrong” Y/n rushes to Kelly.

“It’s nothing he’s kicking I think he likes that name Jack “Kelly replied with a fond look.

Y/n smiles hiding her uneasiness.

○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○

Eureka Springs,Arkansas

Dean is laying on the ground. There is a rabbit sitting beside him. Dean wakes up suddenly, looking hung over.

“Ohh...”Dean starts to sit up a bit, brushing leaves out of his face.”Ugh.”He looks down and sees the rabbit. “Hey, buddy” He moves the rabbit behind him and stands up. “Mm. Ah. Wow.” He looks around, unsure of where he is. He pulls out his phone to make a call and sees the screen is badly cracked and his phone no longer works.“Oh, come on.”

He turns around and sees a walking path not far from where he's standing. There are several people walking/jogging along it.

“And I was like, "Andy, the dog's vegan." The women with a stroller exclaimed to whoever she was on the phone with.

“Hey. Hey.” Dean said trying to get the ladies attention.

“How could you give him–“ The woman finally notices Dean.“Excuse me. Do you mind if I– “. Woman gasps and recoils from Dean. She reaches into her purse hanging off the stroller and hands Dean some money. “Wha-“

“Just don't buy a drink.” The women answer. The woman's baby makes some noises as she starts walking away. “I-I know, Stacey.”The women remarked.

“Huh” Dean said in a courteous manner. Dean looks around again and sees a man jogging towards him with a dog. He walks up to him to talk. “Hey. Hey, hey, hey. Excuse me.” Dean Announced making The man stops jogging.

“Look, uh, uh, I'm not a – not a bum, okay?” Dean started. The man removes his ear buds to hear Dean. “Just somebody who really needs to use a phone. Do you mind?” Dean asked.

The man hesitates, and then unplugs his headphones and hands Dean his phone.

“Great. Thank you.” Dean said with a note of relief. Dean walks a short amount away from the man to make his phone call.

“Okay.”Dean dials a number and the phone starts ringing. Sam's phone light up with a phone call. Sam picks up.

“Hello?” Sam questioned”

“Sam?” Dean replied.

Sam is relieved to hear from Dean, and concerned about where he's been all night.

“Dude, where the hell have you been?” Sam wondered. Dean looks around the park confusedly, and at the man jogging in place.

“I’m not really sure about that.”

“You—Well, where are you now?”

Dean looks around again.

“I'm not real sure about that either. I, um... “ Dean replied. He hears truck horns blaring and sees a Waldo's Waffles sign.

“Oh. Ha ha. I'm starvin'. How you feel about waffles?” He Asked Sam.

Sam makes a confused noise. “What?”

“Dumb question. Right. What psycho doesn't love waffles?” Dean grinned. Sam is totally confused by what Dean is saying.

“ I mean, they're fluffy. You got the little pockets full of syrup. You just cover 'em in whipped cream. Am I right? Anyway, meet me at Waldos', okay?” Dean explained then hangs up and gives the phone back to the jogger. Sam is very confused and tries to say something, but Dean has already hung up. “Hey—Ma–.”

The murmur of quiet conversations and the door closing as Sam walks in and heads towards Dean, who is sitting at the counter, eating waffles. Dean turns towards Sam and feels disappointed that he doesn’t see Y/n as he walks up to the counter. “Oh. Hey, did you bring any, um...” Dean grimaces and motions to his head.

Sam holds up and shakes a pill bottle.”Yes.” Dean beamed grabs the pill bottle as Sam sits down next to him.

“Sounded like you could use it.” Sam noted as Dean opens the pill bottle.

“Oh, man.”

“Rough night?”

“Rough morning.” Dean answered takes the pills out of the bottle and takes them with his coffee. Sam watches him bemusedly.

“Wh-What happened? I mean, you just went out to get some food.” Sam stammered.

“I don't know.” Dean murmured.

“What does that mean?” Sam asked.

“I-I guess I blacked out. And judging from this hangover, it was epic.”Dean motions to his head.

“Well, I tried to call you.” Sam Told Dean.

“Um....”Dean pulls out his destroyed cell phone and holds it up for Sam to see. “Oh.” Dean tosses his phone on the counter. “Not sure how that happened.”

“Great.” Sam pulls out his own phone. “All right, well, I'll text Mom, make sure she knows to get a hold of me in case of emergency. And Cas, in case he tracks down Y/n and Kelly.

Dean's face screws up in confusion at the mention of Kelly. Sam looks at Dean incredulously. “The mother of Lucifer's love child? Also the one you made Y/n chose over you.” Sam told Dean.

Dean suddenly remembers who Kelly is. “Right. Right. Yes, the Devil baby mama drama.” Dean grins, looking quite amused with himself. “Say that five times fast. Devil baby mama drama.”

Sam turns towards Dean and glances at the plate of waffles he's eating and the one that just arrived. “All right, Dean, you know, uh, you had a good run, but maybe let's pump the brakes a little bit. I mean, you're not 20 anymore.” Sam voiced.

Dean just stares at Sam for a moment. “Okay, one, the Rat Pack partied till the day they died. And B, I can still kick your ass.” Dean answered turns to face the front again and takes another bite of waffle. Sam scoffs at him. Dean, with his mouth still full calls for more waffles. As he does so, a group of young women enters. One of them appears to recognize Dean before joining the rest of the group which has sat down.

“Mm. Got a man who needs some waffles down here.” Dean called out.

“ –Oh, no. I'm—I'm fine. I'm...” Sam noted.

“You can just take these if you want.” Dean said pushes a plate of waffles towards Sam.

Sam puts his hand up to get the bill, and checks his watch. “No, Dean. Look, the morgue opens in, like, 10 minutes.” Sam shared as Dean takes a sip of his coffee and again looks confused.

“The morgue?” Sam stares at him.

“The autopsy results. Are you still drunk?” Sam questioned. Dean turns his head slightly towards Sam, but doesn't look at him. “I don't think so.” Dean stated as Sam leans over and sniffs Him.

“All right, our—our case?” Sam began. “The dead guy, throat stuffed full of money. Any of this ring a bell?”

Dean seems to remember what Sam is talking about and is nodding his head. “Right, yes. Right. Um...the accountant. Barry Gilman.” Dean replied.

“Right.”

“Right.”Dean turns towards Sam. “Uh, and you think he got his ticket punched by a demon.” Dean proposed.

“Maybe.” Sam guessed.

“Okay, but when we went over to his place yesterday, we got a whole bunch of jack and a little bit of squat. There was no hex bags, no EMF, no sulfur, which means no case.” Dean replied turns back to his waffles as Sam sighs deeply.

“Yeah, but if it's not a case, then what is it?” Sam stated while Dean picks up his coffee and turns back to Sam.

“I don’t know. Death by money? You know, maybe the guy got whacked by, uh, some mob dude with an ironic sense of humor. “ Dean said taking a sip of coffee. Sam chuckles and turns.

“All right. Well, I'm gonna go scope out the body. If you wanna spend some more alone time with, uh, your waffles...all right. Have fun.” Sam disclosed and gets up from the counter. The group of women that previously walked in, with the one woman turned to face the boys.

Dean wipes his mouth with a napkin and turns to get up as well and follow Sam.

“Fine, hold up.” Dean called to Sam and he turns to Dean and motions to the counter.

“Did you pay?” Sam queried then Dean stops and reaches for his wallet.

“Oops, no. Right.”

“You got it?” Dean tosses some cash on the counter. Behind him we see the girl from the group approaching.

“I got it.” Dean said.

“This is last night ” Said The woman looks angry. She then smacks him across the face and storms back to her friends. Sam gives Dean a questioning look, watches the girl as she walks away and then looks back at Dean. Dean stands there for a moment, then nods once.

“Yep. Epic night.” Dean said in a dry tone.

Dean walks past Sam out of the restaurant. Sam stares after him.

○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○

Y/n is outside in the backyard chopping wood when her neighbor Nathan Jones Mr. Tall, dark, handsome. He kind of puts you in a reminder of Superman and not the Superman Returns but the Man of Steel.” Hey how are you” Nathan said walking up to Y/n.

“Good just chopping up some logs trying to clear my head. You.” Y/n said in a Casual tone.

“Oh nothing I was just about to head into town and thought you might need somethings.”

“Oh wow Thank you Nat that’s so sweet” Y/n grinned as she stop chopping wood to really look at Nathan.

“I realize you don’t like to leave Kelly alone so I thought I would help you out” Nathan finished looking at Y/n with sincere written all over his face.

Y/n hugs Nathan. “You’re the best um I’ll get you a list and then when you get back I’ll pay you back” Y/n promised.

“Or you could pay me back with a date tonight we don’t even have to go out I’ll cook for you.”Nathan said in a flirtatious way.

” You can cook.” Y/n Breathed out.

“I’m a man of many talents.” he answered smirking at Y/n.

Y/n giggled uncontrollably.

What the actual hell is wrong with me.

Y/n looks up at Nathan.

Maybe I should let Dean go.

”I would love too” Y/n beamed at Nathan.

“So seven” he replied.

“Seven is perfect.” Y/n said in a soft voice smiling.” I’ll go get that list for ya.” Y/n said walks in the house getting a grocery list Kelly already made and walks back outside to Nathan and hands it to him.

“Well I better get going I’ll see you later” Nathan told Y/n before walking away.

○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○

Driving up to the morgue Sam and Dean gets out the. Car Sam proceed to walk into the morgue but Dean hangs back and Sam notice.

“You coming”Sam asked Dean.

”Ya I’ll be in an minute I have to find my badge.”Dean lied trying to be alone.

“Ok I’ll head in” Sam replied as he walks inside the morgue.

As soon as Sam disappears into the morgue Dean pulls out his phone and dial Y/n’ number. Dean waits for the voicemails to hear her voice because he knows she will never answer the phone not anymore.

“It’s Y/n leave a message.”

“Hey I was just calling to um I don’t know I was going to but-“ Pauses.“I miss you I didn’t realize how much I missed you until this, morning when I saw Sam walking into Waldo’s alone and him remind me why you left. I hope there’s a part of you that listens to the messages I..I gotta go.” Dean said in a sad grimace hang up the phone. Clearing his throat so he won’t sound too emotional when he walks into the morgue.

The body of an older man on an autopsy table with his upper torso uncovered. The boys are in their FBI suits standing beside the body. One of the morgue staff walks in carrying a box with evidence from the body in it. She hands it to Sam and turns to leave.

“Hey.” Dean said getting Sam’s attention

Sam takes the box the staff member is holding.

“Uh, thank you.” Sam said to the morgue staff.

“Great. We’ll let you know if we need anything else. Thanks.” Dean said. The staff member leaves, closing the door behind her. Dean looks slightly uncomfortable.

Sam places the box on a stand beside the body. “All right.” Sam Asserted as he begins looking through the autopsy report. “So cause of death was suffocation. Officially.”

“Okay. We already knew that.” Dean told Sam.

"See evidence bag B 1-4." All right.” Sam replied puts the report down and opens the box and looks through the bags in the box, which all contain items that are covered in blood.

Dean cringes and turns away. “Ugh. Mm.”

Sam pulls out a bag full of very bloody money. Dean looks like he may throw up.

“Huh.”

Sam turns and shows the bag of money to Dean.

“Says they pulled all this from his stomach.”. Sam answered as Dean is trying to avoid looking at the bag while trying not to throw up.

“Mm-hmm – Mm. Big breakfast.”Dean Breathed lookin briefly at the bag and then turns away covering his mouth. “Okay.”

Sam looks at Dean and turns to put the money back in the box. “All right.” Sam noted.

Dean continues to make gagging sounds while Sam looks through the box. He finds a small bag with a small pink hex bag inside. “Mm. Ugh.”

“Well, well.” Sam started as he takes the bag with the hex bag inside out and shows it to Dean. “You were saying about an ironic mobster?”

Dean sees the bag and sighs. “All right, so...a witch force feeds old Barry here a hex bag and then casts a spell.”

“Yeah, a spell that pumps him so full of cash, he dies choking on it.”Sam said turning and puts the bag back in the box.

“Ugh. Witches.” Dean murmured as Sam picks up the report again and looks through it. “Well, I guess it's true what they say. Mo' money, mo' problems. Right?” Dean proclaimed smiles and chuckles to himself and walks past Sam and out, as Sam just stares after him.

“I hope you're still drunk.” Sam mused follows Dean out.

The boys leaving the morgue and walking to the car. “So why would somebody want Barry dead? I mean, what, did he screw up a tax return?”Dean questioned.

“He's actually more of a money manager.”Sam explained.

“Well, whatever he was, looks like he, uh certainly made one hell of a...uh... “Dean trailed off. Sam stops and looks at Dean he tries to remember what word he's looking for.

“Enemy?”Sam finished for Dean.They reach the car and continue talking briefly before getting in.

“Enemy. Yeah. Those guys.” Dean murmured.

“Maybe he blew the wrong person's savings.” Sam wondered.

“All right, well, let's check out his clients.” Dean disclosed as he fumbles around with his keys.

“Which one? Barry worked for the richest families in town.” Sam questioned as they both open the doors and get into the car. Dean is sitting in the drivers seat looking through his keys as though he doesn't know which one he needs. Sam watches in disbelief.

“Wow. Man, you were serious about epic. It's the square one.” Sam joked.

Dean seems slightly confused.“Yeah. I know.” Dean inclined.

“You-“ Sam started.

Dean starts the car and puts it in gear. He looks behind him, getting ready to back out. He gives it gas and ends up going forward and crashing into 2 newspaper boxes, where a woman is looking at a paper. Sam looks up startled.

“Son of a bitch.” Dean said in a casual tone.

“Come on!” The lady yelled.

“What the...” Sam voiced.

“Really?!” The lady said with Fire.

“Sorry! Our fault. I... “ Sam explained as he looks at Dean in shock. Dean seems to be quite confused as to what's going on.

“R for "reverse," Dean.” Sam commented to Dean as he just sits there confused occasionally looking up at Sam. He seems unable to focus on what Sam is saying or to what's going on around him.

“Listen, man, I-I know we haven't had it easy lately. This thing with the Devil's kid, getting tossed into West Guantanamo and Y/n leaving makes me wanna crawl into a bottle, too, sometimes, but...dude, you're wrecked.”

Dean's gaze is wandering and unfocused.

“And we got a case to work so get it together, all right?” Sam made public but Dean doesn't respond.

“Dean? Dean?” Sam called.Dean looks up and turns towards Sam.

“Who's Dean?” Dean question and Sam looks very confused and concerned.

○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○

Y/n is getting ready for her date looking at reflection in the mirror as Kelly waddles into her room.

“You look Smokin hot is you getting all dolled up for neighbor boy.” Kelly beamed as she looks at Y/n’s hair it’s in her F/h. Y/n’s outfit a Black leather jacket with a red and black shirt and blue jeans, and some Dr. Martens Hurston Chelsea Boot.

“Yes I am he asked me out on a date. He’s going to cook for me” Y/n squealed.

Once again what the hell is wrong with me... maybe it’s about food and I’m not cooking it ya let’s go with that.

Phone rings that pulls Y/n out her thoughts as she goes to see who’s phone is ring. It her’s she answers it without checking who’s calling.

“Hello?” Y/n questioned.

“Y/n?” Sam questioned standing outside his and Dean motel room.

“Sam?”

“I honestly didn’t think you would answer....I’m glad you did.”

“In all honestly I didn’t see who called I thought it was Nat.”

“Nat who’s Nat?” Sam wondered in a curious tone.

Y/n chuckled. Man I miss Sam.”He’s a friend”

“Hmm well I called you to tell you that um Dean in trouble he’s losing his memory. I know that you left because of Dean but it would mean a lot to me if you could come to Eureka Springs,Arkansas.” Sam asked.

“I’ll be there.”

Sam is Flabbergasted he didn’t think it would be that easy.“Thank you Y/n.”

“You don’t need to thank me Yosemite I will always be here for you.” Y/n said with a fond look. ”I’ll be there as soon as possible bye.”

Y/n hangs up the phone then finds Kelly.

Kelly is sitting in her Rockingchair.

“Hey Um something came up and I have to go to Arkansas.” Y/n revealed.

“Why what happened.” Kelly asked in a small panicky voice.

“Dean he is in trouble and Sam needs my help it’s bad Dean is losing his memories and Sam worried that Dean will become and empty shell.”

“Ok do what you have to do.” Kelly said hiding the disappointment in her voice.

“You can come with me if you want you’ll just be stuck in inside the Hotel room until all of this is over.” Y/n Remarked.

“No no I’ll be fine here.” Kelly insisted As she gets up from her Rockingchair and walks away from Y/n.

“Kelly what’s wrong.” Y/n asked as she follows her.

“Y/n what if they put a tracking device on you. What if they follow you back to me-.”

“Sam is like a brother to me and if anything ever happened to him when he called and asked me for my help I wouldn’t be able to live with myself. I won’t let them find you OK you have my word on that and my word is my bond” Y/n answered.

“Just be safe.” Kelly replied trying to hide her worried.

“Of course I am I’ll be back before you know it.” Y/n said getting ready to walk out the door but Kelly’s voice stops her.

“What about your date with Nathan.”

“Damn it that is to nights.”

“What are you going to tell him.”

“The truth someone I care about is in trouble and they need my help.” Y/n said as she walks out the door closing early she walks over to Nathan’s house she knocks on his door anxiously waiting for him to open it

Right when I’m about to mover on Dean Winchester ruins it-

Y/n thoughts gets cut off as Nathan opens the door.

“Your early I just about to start cooking looking amazing” Nathan Announced

“I really like you Nat but something came up someone I care about is in trouble and they need my help.”

“Ya it’s ok go be there for then.” Nathan answered.

Y/n smiles and kiss Nathan on the cheek.

“As soon as I get back I’m cooking you dinner thank you for understanding I got to go.” Y/n told Nathan then walks away.

○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○

“I told you, I'm fine.” Dean Announced to Sam as he walks into their motel room.”What were you do out there?” Dean asked wondering what took Sam so long to get into there room.

“Nothing nothing...Dean, you forgot your own name.

“For a second. Okay, yeah, that was weird.”Dean commanded as he walks over to one of the beds and takes his jacket off.

Sam closes the door and walks towards Dean.

“All right, look, we know we're dealing with a witch, right? Maybe you got hexed.” Sam pointed out as Dean takes his jacket and gun off and tosses them on the bed.

Dean turns to Sam in slight amusement.”Dude...If a witch got a clear shot of me, I would be dead, okay? I wouldn't be freakin', uh...Dory. “ Dean explained.

“Dory?” Sam asked Dean.

“I'm not gonna apologize for loving that fish. Not to you, not to anyone.” Dean declared.

“Right. Okay. All right. If you're doing so well, name all the members of Bon Jovi.”Sam insisted.

Dean scoffs.”Okay. Uh, we talkin' circa 1983?” Dean began.

“Sure.” Sam agreed.

“Done. We got Bon Jovi.” Dean pauses, unable to remember the rest.”Whatever. This is stupid. Sam, I'm fine. Okay?”Dean disclosed turning and walks back towards the bed.”I feel great. Look, Uh... “Dean stated.He turns and picks up his gun and looks back at Sam.”This is a gun.” He pointed out dropping the gun back down and points to his coat. “This is a coat.” He walks over to the lamp in their room and gestures at it. “This is a...a...a...light stick.”Dean noted.

Sam is startled at Dean being unable to remember the proper word then Sam pulls off the sticky note and stands up. He walks over to the lamp and puts the sticky note on it. It says Lamp.

“Fine, but until you get better...”Sam told Dean as he looks at the note and snaps his fingers.

“Lamp. Right. So close.” Dean commented.

A poker game taking place in what looks like a server room of sorts. Rowena is playing with 3 men. He pushes all his chips to the center of the table.

“Shall we end the suspense?” One of the man said laying his cards down and Rowena lays her cards down and they are much better than the man's.

She laughs.”What's that? Six in a row? Beginners luck.” Rowena commented.

She reaches over the table to pull all the chips towards her. Her cell phone rings as she's collecting her chips. She looks at the number and excuses herself from the men to take the call.

“Oh. Gentlemen, if you don't mind.”Rowena Asked walking a short distance away and answer the call.

“I'm a wee bit occupied at the moment. Rowena shared.

“Yeah, well, we need your help, Rowena.” Sam revealed.

“Oh, really?” Rowena answered.

“Come on, man. Rowena? I mean...” Dean trailed off. Dean is inspecting the mini fridge as Sam speaks to Rowena.

“Yes. Really.” Sam confirmed.

“Hey?” Dean called out and Sam turns to Dean.

“Tiny vodkas. Score.” Dean grinned and Sam shakes his head.

“Am I saved to your contacts now? Tell me. Have I got my own ringtone?” Rowena wondered.

“This is serious. Look, I think Dean's been hexed okay? He—He's been forgetting things.” Sam announce.

Rowena turns to look back at the poker game as she speaks.“Maybe he's just drunk. Oi!” Rowena question.

“He's not drunk.” Sam answered.

Dean picks up the ice bucket and points inside it. “We need ice.” Dean announced as he continues pointing at the bucket. Sam just shakes his head at him and ignores him.

“We could do a memory spell. But did his hair fall out? His body too?” Rowena made public.

“What?” Sam questioned.

“From the neck down, is he smooth like a Ken doll?” Rowena asked with a curious tone.

Sam looks grossed out at the thought of that. “I don’t know. Uh, and I'm not checking either.”bSam avowed.

“Rules out a mnemonic curse. The obliviate spell wipes the memory clean over time, but it's intricate magic. I... “ Rowena started.

“How do I break it?” Sam asked.

“Theoretically? Kill the witch. Or true love kiss so you know you would have to talk to right.” Rowena declared.

“Ya got it. She already on her way” Sam answered.

“how do you pull that one off” Rowena wondered.

“Y/n still cares about me and Dean so of course she’s going to help if one of us is in danger now I got to go.” Sam replied hanging up the phone and turns to talk to Dean only to find out that Dean has left to get ice.

“All right. So...Dean? Dean!” Sam said in a small panicky voice running out of the motel room and looks around outside.

“Dean!” Sam shouted as He runs up to the second level and keeps looking.

“Dean?” Sam called out as he walks around a corner and finds Dean trying to get into another room with the ice bucket tucked under his arm.

“Dude, what are you doing?” Sam Queried then Dean turns to look at Sam.

“Getting ice. What are you doing?” Dean asked Sam.

“That's not our room.” Sam commented.

Dean looks around confused and then shrugs and walks away.”All these dumps look the same.” Dean replies as they start walking back down to their room.

“So this spell, I'm stuck in some sort of "Memento" crap?” Dean Stressed.

“Right. The fix sounds fairly simple. You just find the witch who did it and kill it or true love kiss.

“Oh, Halle-freakin'-lujah but there’s no way Y/n coming to help us so plan a kill the freakin’ witch.” Dean noted.

“So Y/n is your true love?” Sam Asked and Dean gives Sam a look that can only mean shut up.

“Right well I think you got hexed last night.” Sam revealed

“Yeah?” Dean Asked.

“Yeah. We need to retrace your steps. All right, think.” Sam replied as they stop just outside of their room. “What's the last thing you remember you did?” Sam questioned.

Dean thinks about it and the taps the ice bucket and opens the lid. “Uh...I got some ice.” Dean replied.Sam looks frustrated with Dean.

The boys looking around Barry Gilman's office again.

“Okay, from yesterday, the last thing I kinda sorta remember is us being here in um... “Dean trailed off. He snaps his fingers to try and remember as he wanders over to the desk.

“...guy's office. Uh...” Dean mumbled.

Sam is looking through shelves in front of the desk.”Barry Gilman.” Sam informed.

“Yes. And...we were here and we were, uh, we were looking for leads.” Dean pointed out, as He opens a red lacquered box on the desk and finds cigars inside. He takes one and puts it in his coat chuckling. Sam is now standing in the middle of the office. “Yeah. Douche tax.” Dean claimed.

“Yeah, you did that yesterday, too. All right, come here.”Sam answered.

Sam walks over to a wall with pictures on it. Dean joins him there.“Check these out. Do these shake anything loose, these pictures.”Sam Asked.

Dean looks at the pictures. He seems to look at one a couple times, but doesn't remember anything. Then Dean looks over at one photo in particular of the accountant and another man in a blue jacket. “No. None of them.” Dean noted.

“Okay, think hard. What happened next? I went to hit the lore. You went out for a burger. So... “ Sam trailed off.

Sam looks hopefully at Dean.“So....” Dean shrugged.

Dean gets frustrated that he can't answer.“What do you want me to say? I-I ate 'em?”Dean questioned.

Sam is getting frustrated with the lack of information.“Okay, okay. You know what? It's not a big town. How many burger joints can there be? Come on.” Sam stated as they walk out of the office.

Hailing a taxicab Y/n pulls out her phone and texts Sam.

Y/n- I’m here

Sam feels his phone buzz in his pocket and he reachers for it and see it’s a text from Y/n.

“Hold on.” Sam called out to Dean as he is about to walk into a pub then calls Y/n.

“How did you get here so fast” Sam questioned.

“I got on a plane three hours and seventeen minutes so where am I going?” Y/n told Sam.

“Meet us at Blue Boar” Sam replied.

“Ok I’ll be there in ten.”Y/n informed hanging up the phone getting in to the taxicab.

“Blue Boar please.” Y/n told the cab driver.

Part 2

#dean x black reader #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x black! reader #black! reader

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the-awkward-outlaw · 5 years

Text

Second Chances - Ch. 5

Just Friends

Warnings: swearing, angst, mild fluff

Word Count: ~4900

For the remainder of the night, you and the other women help try to care for Mrs. Adler, who you find is named Sadie. She hasn’t stopped crying, which everyone can understand. Despite the both of you being widows, you feel massively inferior to her. It’s clear she loved her husband dearly; he must have been a good man. You’re glad when Tilly offers to take your place, claiming you should go try to sleep. You feel as though you’re the last person Sadie would want to be even near.

Morning comes, snowy and cold, although it seems to be letting up. Hosea comes in, and Abigail approaches him.

“Has John come back yet?” she asks him, the worry creasing her forehead.

“Not yet, Abigail,” Hosea answers somberly. “As far as I know, he’s still out there.”

“He ain’t been seen in days!”

Arthur strolls in, shaking himself from the cold.

“He’s strong, and he’s smart. Strong at least,” Abigail says, greeting Arthur. “How you doin’?”

Arthur, warming his hands next to the fireplace, turns and stares at her with a curious expression. One that says he knows she’s going to ask him for a favor.

“Just fine, Abigail. And you?”

“I’m sorry to ask but…”

Arthur cuts her off. “It’s little John. He’s got himself caught in a scrape again.”

“He ain’t been seen in two days!”

“You’re John’ll be fine! I mean, he may be as dumb as rocks and dull as rusted iron, but that ain’t changin’ because he got caught in some snowstorm!”

Hosea approaches. “At least go take a look. Javier? Will you ride out with Arthur?”

Javier, wearing a thick poncho, stands up. “I know if the situation were reversed, he’d look for me.”

He hands Arthur a sawed-off shotgun, who takes it impatiently. He glances at you, then turns to leave. You almost wish you could go with them to get out of this cabin, but the wind howls outside the door, reminding you of the thick storm still raging outside. The two men leave, Abigail thanking them.

Near an hour passes until you hear Arthur calling outside, asking for help. Hosea, Abigail, Lenny, and you rush outside. You fear the worst for a moment, until you see John settled on the back of Javier’s horse. His face is badly scratched and bleeding, and you can tell by his posture he’s half frozen. Lenny and Hosea help pull him off his horse, which causes him to grunt loudly in pain.

“Be careful, idiotas!” Javier calls. “It’s his leg.”

Abigail profusely thanks both men, and then helps the others half carry, half walk John into the cabin.

“This is a new low, even by your standards!” you hear her snarl at John.

You approach Arthur, who seems unscathed.

“You a’right?” you ask him.

He dismounts his horse, grabbing his reins.

“Ah, I’m fine. He got nicked by a wolf after they got his horse.”

“Well, at least you two found him in time.”

You walk with Arthur through the thick snow as he leads his new horse to the hitching post.

“Is there anything you need?” you ask him, not wanting to go back to the cabin to hear John’s moaning mixed with Sadie’s tears.

“Nah, I’m fine. Best get yourself indoors, don’t want ya freezin’ on us,” he pats your shoulder.

You nod your head, turning back to the cabin, feeling slightly defeated.

Two days pass and the weather finally breaks, but the entire camp is on the verge of starving since there’s almost no food. You’re standing near an old blacksmith’s fire pit where Pearson has set up his station under a wooden canopy outside the crumbling stable, trying to help wherever you can. Arthur strolls in, standing next to you to warm his hands over the fire.

“We’re going to starve up here, Mr. Morgan,” the cook says. “We have a few cans of food and a rabbit for, what, twelve people? I wasn’t able to get supplies in when we fled Blackwater!” “Well, when government agents are huntin’ ya down, sometimes shoppin’ trips need to be cut short!” Arthur says as Pearson hauls the cast iron pot over the fire where you’re warming your hands. You can hear the little amount of food sloshing around inside of it. “We’ll survive, we always have. And if needs be, we can eat you, yer the fattest.”

You stifle a chuckle, pretending to wipe your nose. Pearson turns, looking annoyed.

“I sent Lenny and Bill hunting and they found nothing!”

“Well, Lenny’s more into book learning than huntin’, Bill’s a fool.”

Charles walks over to the pair of you, still nursing his bandaged hand.

“Unless those mountains are full of game that wanna read…”

Charles cuts him off. “Enough of this. We’ll go hunting.”

He turns to leave, calling Arthur to follow him.

“You need to rest, Charles,” Arthur says, looking worried.

“You think this is rest? I can’t stay here and listen to you argue! Come along.”

“I’ll come with you,” you finally say, approaching the two men. Arthur looks at you, and you think he’s going to send you back to the cabin with the others.

“Sounds good,” Charles says. “She can be a second bow. My hand’s still useless. Stupid mistake.”

“A’right. Come on, then,” Arthur says.

You turn and tell Pearson you’ll find something, following the two men while wrapping your coat tighter around you. You pat Rain happily, having not seen her in days. She snorts in greeting. You double check your bow is still in place, then mount the buckskin, following Arthur on his dark bay paint and Charles on Taima.

The three of you go on for nearly a quarter of an hour, approaching a fast-running stream. The snow has stopped, a weak sun peaking through the clouds. The snow sparkles all around you, your breath forming tiny crystals in the air. Charles mentions that game will have to come out to feed now that the storm has settled.

The three of you dismount, you and Arthur both pulling your bows and arrows. You spot the unmistakable slot marks of deer. You point them out to Arthur and begin following the tracks through a grove of trees and towards the river. Just as you’re about to leave the trees, you spot two does grazing near the river. You motion to Arthur, beckoning to them.

Both of you notch an arrow and shoot them, bringing both deer down.

“We should grab one more,” you say. “Let’s try across the river.”

“A’right,” Arthur says. You hadn’t realized he’d come so close to you. The two of you quietly run towards the river, crossing it. You hiss slightly as the freezing water courses over your boots, chilling your feet. You spot a few more deer, stripping bark from the trees a few yards from the bank. Before you can even get an arrow out, Arthur shoots and takes one down, the others bolting into the trees.

“A’right, think that’s all we can carry,” Charles says from the trees where you both shot the first deer. You whistle for Rain, going to the other side of the river, picking up the deer you shot.

After all the deer are strapped tightly to a horse, the three of you head back to camp, coming across nothing except a Grizzly bear, foraging for what little food he can find. You all give him a wide berth, Rain snorting in fear. Along the way back to camp, you hear Arthur and Charles discuss a rival gang called the O’Driscolls, who Arthur says are responsible for Mrs. Adler’s fate.

Upon arriving at camp, Pearson darts out of the old stalls where the fire pit sits, praising the three of you on your hunt as you cart in the deer. You see Uncle sitting by the pit, nursing a bottle.

“What a surprise to find a camp rat loitering around the place,” Arthur says after hoisting his deer onto his shoulder and depositing it onto the floor near the fire.

“I feel like we ain’t spoken in days,” the old man says in a gruff voice.

“I do my utmost to avoid you, now get outta here.”

“Ah, he loves me really, ‘s just his sad way of showin’ it,” he says as he leaves, tipping his bottle.

Pearson approaches the three of you, warming your hands over the fire once more.

“Have a drink, y’all earned it,” he says. Arthur takes a swig, handing it to you.

“Jesus! What is that?” he says as you drink, coughing as the harsh liquid sets your throat on fire.

“Navy rum! Keeps you sane, it does,” Pearson chuckles.

“I can see it’s done a treat on you.”

“I’ll see you later,” Charles says, putting down the bottle of rum as he leaves.

“You two mind helpin’ me with the skinning?”

“Only long as we get to skin you,” Arthur grins at him, you smile as you look at him. You’ve come to realize how much you’ve enjoyed this man’s company. More than the others.

“Always one with the jokes, aren’t ya?” Pearson glares. “C’mon.”

The three of you skin the deer, Arthur hoisting one up on a rack to drain. He pats Pearson’s shoulder. “Just make a good stew, folk need it.”

He turns to you, beckoning you to follow him. Once you’re out of earshot of Pearson, he stops you.

“You a’right?”

You look into his blue eyes, hidden beneath his hat. “Of course, why?”

“I dunno, ya just seem like ya don’t wanna be in that cabin.”

You glance to where the others are sheltered, shuffling your feet slightly in the snow. You wonder how to phrase what you’re feeling, or if he’ll even understand.

“Ya can tell me, y’know?” he says, placing a gloved hand on your shoulder.

“I just, I…” you pause for a moment. “I don’t feel like I can be around that Mrs. Adler anymore. It’s just, it’s heartbreaking. She must have really loved him, her husband, for her to be this messed up. I can’t sit in there, the only other widow, when my husband died by my own hands.”

Arthur stares at you for a moment with a soft expression. His hand tightens slightly. “Do you regret it? Killin’ him, I mean.”

You shake your head. “No, that bastard had it coming. But I can’t sit there with her, tainted as I am.”

He sighs heavily. “Well, why don’t ya come sit with me in my cabin then? There’s room enough for one more.”

You stare up at him, feeling slightly shocked. “Arthur, I didn’t mean… I don’t want you to feel like you have to accomodate me.

“Ain’t accomodatin’, miss, just tryin’ to help. C’mon,” he says, moving his hand to your back, between your shoulder blades. You feel a warmth in your chest at his touch as he guides you to the cabin he shares with Dutch, Hosea, and Molly.

Over the next few days, you spend most of your time in the cabin with Arthur, only leaving to go sleep in the cabin with the others. Hosea picks you back up on reading, encouraging you to pass the time on learning the skill. Arthur helps you with writing, showing you some glimpses of his journal. He also starts teaching you how to sketch, having you start with simple objects lying around the cabin, like a can of peaches or the nightstand in the corner of the main room.

One afternoon, he challenges you to a drawing contest to which you originally try turning him down on. “You’re way too good for me, Arthur. Even if I’d been drawing for years, I’m sure you’d be better than me.”

“Ah, c’mon. It’ll be fun!” He leans towards you, speaking quietly. “How about we draw Ms. O’Shea?”

You glance at the heavily bundled red headed woman standing in Dutch’s room, staring into her pocket mirror. You giggle lightly, then take him up on the challenge.

After a few moments, you compare your drawing with Arthur, which is more than pathetic compared to the outlaw’s. You can tell he’s trying not to laugh.

“Looks good!” he says, smiling.

“Go ahead and laugh,” you smirk at him. “It looks like crap, we both know it.”

You both chuckle, tossing your drawings into the fire. Molly turns and glares at you, unimpressed by how loud you’re both being. Hosea walks in then.

“Arthur, will you go and check on the boys real quick? Y/N, let’s start readin’ again.”

Arthur pats you on the shoulder as he stands up, walking out the door and back into the cold. Hosea pulls out your book, handing it to you as he takes up Arthur’s seat.

Hours pass, and night comes. Arthur still hasn’t returned from a job he’s working with Dutch and the other men. Something to do with the O’Driscolls. You sit near the fire, staring into the glowing embers near Hosea. You hear the pounding of hooves outside the cabin. Going out into the frozen darkness, you see everyone except Arthur has returned. You suddenly fear that something went wrong.

“Where’s Arthur?” you ask Charles. “Did something…”

“He’s fine, went to go pick up a runaway O’Driscoll,” he replies.

The others begin going back inside the cabins, Dutch talking to Hosea, something about a train. He shows Hosea a large roll of paper as they close the door. You stay outside, staring off into the night, hoping.

Several moments pass with no sign of him. You turn to go back inside the cabin when you hear a horse coming towards you, snorting heavily. Arthur’s new paint approaches you through the gloom, his outline in the darkness is distorted by something on the back of his horse. You greet him as he stops next to you, hopping off his mount. You can see the thing he has tied on the back is a man, squirming against his bonds.

“Hey there, Y/N. Here we are, ya sack of shit,” he says to the hostage. “Let’s introduce you to the boys.”

He heaves the man onto his shoulder, walking towards the cabin.

“Don’t hurt me, please!” the man begs in a shaky and desperate voice.

“You found the little shit, did ya?” Dutch asks as he comes out of the cabin. Arthur drops the man into the snow and cuts the bonds wrapping his feet together.

“Welcome to your new home,” Dutch taunts him. “Hope you’re real happy here!”

Arthur’s face is dark as he picks the man up onto his feet. “You want me to make him talk?”

“No, now all we’ll get is lies,” Dutch says, asking Bill and Uncle to tie the man up and to make him hungry. “I gotta sayin’, son,” he says, approaching the frightened hostage, glaring into his eyes. “We shoot fellers as need shootin’, save fellers as need savin’, and feed ‘em as need feedin’. We are goin’ to find out what you need.”

Bill and Uncle cart him off, chuckling. Dutch calls out, “I can’t believe it! An O’Driscoll in my camp!”

“I ain’t an O’Driscoll, mister!” the hostage yells back. “I… I hate that feller!”

“Whatever you say, son!”

Arthur chuckles, hitching his horse up and then approaching you. He calls after Dutch. “I’m sorry we missed out on Colm.”

“There’ll be time for that!” Dutch answers, going back into the cabin. “Now, we need to figure out this train.”

He closes the door after Hosea, leaving you and Arthur alone in the darkness. He turns to you.

“Ya a’right? Look like yer frozen,” he says.

“I’m fine,” you smile up at him. “I was just worried when you didn’t come back with the others. Thought somethin’ bad happened.”

“Ah, ya ain’t gotta worry about me, Y/N, I’ll always come back.”

It’s near midday, the sun has been out all morning and the snow has begun to melt, thawing out the frozen wagons. Arthur and you sit inside the cabin with Hosea. Dutch sits in his room with Molly, looking over the stolen plans for the train. The three of you sit beside the fire, eating plates of stew. You’re going to need to go hunting again; the stew is lacking on meat. Arthur finishes his and stands up.

“Gonna go check on John,” he grunts, tightening the coat around him. “Make shoar he’s holdin’ up.”

He leaves you with Hosea and Dutch. After a few moments, Dutch comes out of his room, holding the long roll of paper he’d stolen from the O’Driscoll camp.

“Think it’s time, old friend,” he says to Hosea. “Now I’m going to go get the others, meet me outside.”

“Dutch, I ain’t too sure…” Hosea begins saying, but Dutch has already walked out of the cabin. He glances at you, you shrug. The two of you get up and go outside into the melting snow.

Bill, Charles, Lenny, Micah and Javier are saddling up, but Dutch and Arthur are still inside the cabin, speaking to John. You glance inside and catch a glimpse of him, his face wrapped up in a bloody bandage, still lying on the cot. Arthur and Dutch trudge out of the cabin, closing the door on Abigail and her son Jack. Dutch starts talking about the train job he’s been planning.

“Why are we doin’ this?” Hosea demands, approaching him. “Weather’s breaking, we could leave. I thought we was tryin’ to lie low.”

“What do you want from me, Hosea?” Dutch demands, approaching the Count.

“I just don’t want anymore folks to die, Dutch.”

“We need money, everything’s back in Blackwater. Fancy goin’ back out there?”

“No. I just thought we were gonna stick to the plan, get the money and head back out west. Now, suddenly, we’re about to rob a train.”

“What choice have we got?” Dutch asks him gently.

“Look, Dutch, I ain’t tryin’ to undermine ya, but Leviticus Cornwall is no joke. He’s a big railway magnate, oil man, sugar dealer.”

“Well, then sounds like he has more than enough to share.”

“Dutch!”

He cuts Hosea off. “Gentlemen! Get your horses ready! We have a train to rob!”

He and Arthur mount their horses, turning them down the path and storming down the trail, leading the others down it. You and Hosea watch them disappear into the cold mist.

“I’m sure things’ll be okay,” you turn to Hosea. He shakes his head and starts walking back into the cabin. You almost follow him, but then go into the cabin with the others.

You open the door. Karen and Mary-Beth greet you from both sides of Sadie, who sits in an almost paralyzed silence. Grimshaw turns in her seat and glares at you.

“Where you been, girl? Hardly seen you the last few days. We coulda used your help!”

You hang your head slightly, not at all regretting spending the last few days with Arthur. “Sorry, Susan. I was with Arthur and Hosea.”

You can tell by her face as she turns away she won’t say anything further. She tends to leave people alone when they’re with Arthur, Hosea, or Dutch. On the other end of the cabin, you hear John gasp slightly as Abigail adjusts his bandage. Jack sits near the fire place, playing with a stick. You turn to Sadie, fidgeting with your hands.

“Mrs. Adler, I’ll go huntin’ again soon, have some fresh meat for the stew.”

She gazes up at you, tears in the bottom of her eyes. She suddenly breaks. “I don’t care anymore.”

You sit down on the other side of a tightly bundled Karen, who muffles through a thick scarf, offering you a bottle. You gladly take it. She lowers her scarf so she can talk to you properly.

“You been spendin’ a lot of time with Arthur lately,” she says with a sly look.

“Yeah, he and Hosea are just helpin’ me with reading and writing.”

Her grin widens and you know what she’s getting at.

“Shut up,” you can feel yourself blushing. “We’re just friends.”

The men who left on the job with Dutch don’t return until well past nightfall. Dutch seems excited. Seems the take from the train was good. Arthur doesn’t return until ten minutes after the others. You’re starting to realize there’s a pattern to these jobs; you hope it won’t lead to trouble in the future.

By morning, Hosea inspects the wagons, declaring the snow has melted enough that you can leave. With that, Grimshaw immediately starts barking at everyone, getting them to pack up. Not that there’s much to do. Most of the supplies were never unloaded from the wagons, aside from Pearson’s cooking materials, a few cots, and a mountain of blankets.

By mid-morning, the camp is mostly packed. Dutch, Arthur and Hosea stand near one of the wagons as Bill hands Lenny a box.

“I know this country we’re goin’ to a little,” Hosea says to Dutch. “We should set up camp in Horseshoe Overlook by Valentine. We’ll be able to hide there no problem.”

“Well, then let’s go!” Dutch says.

Charles and Javier lift John up into the back of one of the covered wagons while Micah tosses the hostage into the other. Arthur and Hosea climb into the driver’s seat of an uncovered wagon in the back of the line. Charles gets into the back of it, and you go with him. You’re glad not to be in the covered wagons with the others, able to enjoy the sunshine for the first time in a week. The train starts on down the path.

You glance back at the still half-frozen town of Colter. You silently hope you never have to come back here.

After a few moments, the train travels along the shores of the frozen lake you saw on the way in. The sun gleams upon every surface around you; the snow winks its light back to it. You swear you can almost hear a longing tune coming from the forest itself, as though the trees are singing for the coming peace of Spring’s warmth.

The train goes into thicker forests, and the snow’s receding from the land. Dutch calls Micah and Lenny to him, ordering them to go scouting ahead. The wagons move on, crossing a fast river. To the right ahead, you see a wide and roaring waterfall. The wagon you’re in starts to cross the river; you feel one side of the wagon begin to shake precariously. Just as it hits the other shore, the left back wheel rolls off; you and Charles are jerked around suddenly as the corner falls to the dirt. Arthur curses as some supplies fall towards the roaring river.

“Everything a’right back there?” Bill yells from up ahead on the wagon ahead of yours. “What happened?” “Ah, I broke the goddamn wheel!” Arthur shouts.

The three men hop off and start repairing the wagon while you go and grab the supplies that have fallen off. Just as Arthur is tightening the wheel back on, you see Hosea and Charles glance up at a ledge, high above the river on the other side. You follow their eyes and see three people on horseback. Squinting, you can tell they’re from a tribe of Natives. Arthur, unbuttoning his coat, approaches the three of you.

“What you think?” he says quietly.

“If they wanted trouble, we wouldn’t have seen ‘em,” Charles states. Hosea raises an arm in greeting as you and the other two get back into the wagon.

“Poor bastards. We really screwed them over,” he says, climbing back into the front with Arthur, who tosses the reins, and the horses carry on.

Arthur guides the wagon along the trail, through a wide, green canyon, cut by the river you had just crossed. He, Hosea and Charles talk about the politics of the treatment of Native Americans over the years. You don’t join in, knowing little about it yourself. Instead, you feast your eyes upon the beauty surrounding you. The thick forest giving way to grassland just before reaching the river, with its rocky shores and sandbars covered in waterfowl.

You hear the conversation between the three turn to Dutch. Hosea mentions how he and Arthur tried telling him the ferry job didn’t feel right back in Blackwater.

“Things go wrong sometimes, people die,” Arthur says in his deep voice. “That’s the way it is, always has been.”

“It just ain’t like Dutch to lose his head like that.”

“We been at this line of work a long time. I figure we gotten it right a hell of a lot more than we gotten it wrong.”

Arthur guides the wagon out of the canyon, up to the ridges overlying it. You see in the distance ahead where the trees grow thick together a man who looks like Javier waiting. Arthur leads the wagon to the trees and Javier greets him. “Slow up, I’ll jump on!”

Arthur brings the wagon to a stop and Javier climbs onto the back, hanging onto the side close to you. You greet him warmly. You’ve had few interactions with the man, but you’ve always enjoyed when he plays his guitar and sings.

Arthur drives the wagon up a nearly hidden trail through the trees, thick bushes and ferns until you can see a clearing on top of the rise. The other wagons are already there, getting unloaded, Pearson and Grimshaw marching around, yelling out orders. You get off the wagon and approach Hosea just as he’s climbing off.

“This seems like a good spot,” you say.

“Home sweet home. For now anyways.”

“This place is perfect!” Dutch hollers, walking towards you, Hosea and Arthur. Just as Hosea turns to talk to him, Grimshaw stomps towards you, grabbing you hard by the elbow.

“There you are! We need your help and you’re just showin’ up!”

She shoves you towards one of the wagons near Tilly and Karen. “Now get to work!”

You massage your arm where she grabbed you, walking towards the other girls who are unloading crates and boxes.

“Mean old goat,” you mutter under your breath, bending down to help.

After a few moments of unpacking and organizing, you hear Dutch call for everyone’s attention near the center of camp. You and the other girls walk over there to hear him better. He’s standing at the entrance of his tent, which has already been set up and situated.

“I know that things have been tough,” he says. “But we’re safe now, and we are far too poor.”

“It is time to get to work, but stay out of trouble,” Hosea joins in. “Remember, we are itinerant workers laid off by the oil factory.”

“Now get out there and make us some money!” Dutch calls, lighting a cigar.

“There’s an old livestock town down the way there, all mud and morons if I remember right.”

“We’re running low on food. Someone needs to go out hunting again!” he gestures towards you and Arthur, standing close together.

“Now go on, and be sensible out there!” Dutch dismisses you.

You turn to Arthur. “We have your tent ready.”

He looks at you and smiles softly. “Well, why don’t ya show me?”

You smile back and lead him to his tented wagon, set up just the way it was back in Bison Point. You look at a small box with the few possessions he has. A glass cylinder with a flower inside of it and several photos, including one of a dog, a man wearing the same hat he wears now, and one of him, Hosea, and Dutch from many years ago. You see below two framed photos, one of a woman who looks like it could be Arthur’s mother, and one of another woman you don’t recognize.

“Everything from Blackwater got saved,” you say, turning back to the outlaw.

“Everything apart from my money,” he grumbles.

“Don’t remind me,” you huff.

“Guess we’re just gonna have to make more money. Where they settin’ you up?”

You point to a spot not far from Arthur’s tent, just a few yards south of Dutch’s tent. You’ve already placed your tent and bedroll, even though they haven’t been set up yet. Over by the wagons, you suddenly hear Grimshaw screaming at Tilly.

“Ms. Jackson! I’ve seen shit with more common sense than you!”

Arthur chuckles as he starts removing his coat. You still wear yours, not having had time to remove it. “Sounds like Susan’s got quite a lot of work for ya,” he says.

“She’s itching to be as tight-winded as a tornado,” you reply, sighing as she marches her way over to you. You rush over to the wagons near Mary-Beth and Karen before she can bruise your elbow again.

By the time the sun has set, the camp is mostly unloaded. To say you’re exhausted is an understatement, but you stand on the ridge of Horseshoe Overlook, gazing out over the canyon and winding river. You hear someone approaching you, and you turn to see it’s Arthur. He hands you a tin plate of stew, which you take gratefully.

He stands quietly next to you for several moments, the both of you eating in silence.

“Well, this place’ll do for now,” he finally says.

You sigh, feeling content. “I rather like it here. It’s so pretty.”

If you hadn’t been busy staring into the colors above the horizon from the setting sun, you might have seen him glance at you, his blue eyes soft as he studied your features.

#arthur morgan #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan x female reader #arthur morgan x oc #red dead redemption 2 #rdr2 #rdr2 fanfic #Van Der Linde Gang #second chances #i'm awkward #colter #i promise it will be fluffier!

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sidhewrites · 5 years

Photo

EXERPT, because I love Rat with all my heart and can’t wait to start talking about her. Approx 2000 words. As always, feel free to send Asks or Messages about what’s written or anything you’re curious about.

The wind bit into her very bones, but the smoke was worse, stinging her eyes and sticking in her throat. Still, she kept herself still, watching and waiting, though this last display had made her bold enough to stick her neck out, just enough into the light that her golden eyes glittered in the firelight. Fee never came out so brazenly to anyone, much less for human beings. What had this one done? He’d pulled something from his pack. If she could just get down there and see what it had been ...

The travellers ate little -- a bit of dry rabbit, berries from the new bushes growing right out of the altar. Her stomach still groaned at the smell. How long since she had eaten a proper meal? More than two weeks, at least. Surely they wouldn’t miss one leg, just a handful of berries … and that tall woman’s blade did look frightfully shiny. Shiny enough that she saw gold in her future, very soon.

And the two pale ones -- twins? She was sure their eyes were red. Was it glamour, or were these folk really walking with demons into Veroesse? Curiosity burned hotter than branding irons. She rubbed the back of her hand, memory all too fresh in her mind.

She waited until they slept. She was good at this part, the waiting. Listening to them talk and figuring them out. The pale woman was from money, even if she hardly dressed the part now. What was a toff like her doing covered in mud like that? The dark man, though, he was could have been from any number of places. There was something Suvi about his lilt, but it was mixed in with too many other accents to tell. At least the other two made sense. The woman was from Guisson, if ever she heard it, and the pale man from south Merveaux. Lower middling class at best.

Still, they washed their hands and said their prayers and curled up as comfortably as they could in such a miserable place, every single one lying still.

Another hour after that, and she allowed herself to move, ignoring the protesting in her knees as she finally lifted herself from the crouch and slowly, silently eased herself down from the vaulted ceilings to the rafters, and finally leaping the final distance to the flagstones below, slippered feet silent as the sleeping travellers. One of them stirred.

She froze.

The woman from Guisson rolled over, batting her long dark braid away from her face, and went still.

She counted to fifty before moving again, silent and measured. First to the bush, picking as many berries as could fit in her pockets. Doubtless she’d get tired of them in less than a week, but it was better than starving. Next, to the man’s pack, fishing out what she could. Smelly leaves -- she sniffed them once and put them back inside. A coin purse -- irritatingly light, but she wasn’t about to be picky, and a few whittled animals. No doubt she could get a silver or two if she sold them all together. She stuffed them all into the coin purse, and hid it down her tunic.

Now on to that sword -- that beautiful, glittering sword that…

Was now pointed beneath her chin, pressing against the soft skin of her throat.

She looked along the blade, past the grip and up into the dark, dangerous eyes of its wielder.

“I hope you have a good explanation for this,” she said in that low Guisson accent.

Shit.

“Now you’re just being dramatic, Liv.” The Suvi man. He pressed a hand against the back of her neck, fingers large enough to wrap around it -- and no doubt snap her spine without a second thought.

Double shit.

The woman glanced to the man behind her, hatred no less strong in her eyes. “Call me Liv again, and I’ll point this at you instead.”

“All right, I understand. We’re not there in our friendship yet. No need to get angry.”

“Friendship isn’t the word I’d use.”

Her head swam. Were they really bickering while holding someone’s life in their hands? What sort of people were they?

Something moved in the corner of her eye -- the other woman. She was slight, almost frail, and her voice sounded too soft to ever hold any strength as she asked, “What are you doing?”

Winnie hadn’t been able to sleep. It wasn’t the thunder or the howling wind that kept her up, but the lack of noise beside her. Rhoan’s constant tossing had become almost a comfort to her in the past few weeks, reassuring her that nothing dangerous was nearby. But he’d been still tonight -- wide awake, no doubt, thinking of something. Or watching for something.

Exhaustion tugged at her, but as hard as she tried to give in, anxiety and anticipation kept her irritatingly awake.

At least she hadn’t missed the ambush -- or, rather, the ambush of the would-be thief. They had been nearly silent, but her mouth watered at the smell of fabricant blood, and there was no hiding the soft snapping of berries being plucked from twigs, or the rustle as the thief had gone through Rhoan’s pack.

She kept herself perfectly still, hardly breathing as they came near, waiting for Rhoan or Livia to do something. Wondering if she ought to reach out and nudge Rafe awake.

Once the bickering started, Winnie finally exhaled. They were safe, then, and the thief had been subdued. She allowed herself to sit up and look over -- and freeze.

That was a child.

Livia and Rhoan had overpowered the girl in a second, and with good reason. She couldn’t have been much more than thirteen, with a gaunt, freckled face and ratty black hair. Even her faded red tunic and woolen pants looked like they hadn’t been replaced in years, judging by the fraying and the way her ankles and wrists poked out the hems. Her heart broke at the sight, and she spoke without thinking.

“What are you doing?” There was no strength behind her words, no confidence. Barely anything but fear.

All eyes turned on her, though Livia kept her blade at the girl’s throat, Rhoan’s hand wrapped tightly around it like he was about to pick her up and throw her aside like an old sack of flour.

“Is….is it not obvious?” Rhoan answered, though he seemed to wilt a bit under her soft stare.

Livia, however, held her ground. “She’s got your coin purse in her tunic. I’m sure that wasn’t all she intended to make off with tonight.”

“You always like to ruin the mystery, don’t you?” Rhoan pouted even as Livia glared.

Winnie would have none of it. She smoothed her curls back best she could and stood, turning her soft eyes onto the young thief. “What’s your name?”

“Miss Ashley--” Livia managed to say before the girl answered, stern and blunt.

“Rat.”

It caught them all off guard.

“Rat?” Rafe’s voice echoed behind Winnie, and she turned to see him standing tall just behind her. When had he woken up?

“‘S right. Rat.”

“But surely that’s…” Winnie fumbled. It wasn’t an unfair comparison, with her mousey features and buck teeth, but she felt guilty for even thinking about it. “That’s not a real name, is it?”

“Don’t see how it’s your problem.” Rat made a face. “‘S my name to do with as I please.”

“Well -- er, Miss Rat--”

“Just Rat. Ain’t no miss about it.”

“Right, of course, er. Rat, then. How old are you?”

“Old enough.” She sneered.

Livia pressed the tip of her blade against the skin of Rat’s throat, gently but definitively. “Miss Ashley, does any of this matter? She’s a child who thought to steal from us.”

“So you threaten her life?” Something like fire lit up her red eyes, and Rhoan’s grip faltered, even if Livia’s did not. “I thought you’d left the Chatvaliers to protect people, not to kill them.” It wasn’t a fair argument, and Winnie knew it. But she wasn’t about to let this slide. “Rhoan, let her go.”

He grimaced.

Her confidence faltered, but she pressed on. “Rhoan.”

He obeyed, and Rat slipped out of reach, rubbing her neck, scowling as she turned her big golden eyes on the rest of them, but she made no further move to escape or attack, or even reach for the small blade strapped to her belt, glinting in the firelight. Doubtless Rat understood what Winnie was reluctant to accept -- one wrong move, and at least two deadly warriors would strike her down in an instant.

Winnie would ensure it did not come to that. She stepped forward again, well aware of Rhoan and Rafe’s eyes on her, Livia’s still trained on Rat. No doubt she was being foolish -- one of the easy pickings for young pickpockets who would fall for a sad story. But she still figured foolishness was better than coldness.

“Rat, could you please answer my question?”

“Already did.”

“I’d like a number, please.”

Rat set her jaw, buck teeth barely poking out from between her lips. “Forteen.”

“Winnie, maybe we…” Rafe tried, but trailed off quickly under Livia’s scrutiny.

“And how long since you’ve last eaten?” Winnie pressed on, no less gently than before.

“Miss Ashley, enough.” Livia stepped forwards again, and Rat backed away. “She could be lying about any of this. If you’re intent on sparing a thief from persecution, turn her out and be done with it.”

“She’s a child, Livia.”

“So are half the criminals in Veroesse. She’s one of the older ones, too.”

“Am not! You’re an ugly liar.”

Livia snarled and grabbed at Rat’s hand. She yanked the glove off and pulled her into the firelight, even as the girl protested and swore. A pale brand bloomed on the back of her hand in the shape of an eagle in flight. “Talonpalm.”

Winnie winced. The talonpalms were one of the three largest thieves’ guilds in Veroesse. She looked away in shame, even as Rat continued to struggle, face pale, squeezing her eyes shut and turning her face away.

Rafe found his voice once more, stepping closer and placing a hand on Winnie’s back. “Where’s her talon, then?”

She opened her eyes, looking from him to Rat, cowering from the fire’s heat.

“Least someone has some workin’ eyes,” Rat hissed, still clawing at Livia’s hand.

He squeezed his hand, fighting for strength, and spoke up once more. “Talonpalms are branded for life, but they’re only part of the guild so long as they have their ring. She doesn’t have one anymore.”

“Course not.” But her resolve was fading. She was no further from the fire than when Livia first pulled her over, and sweat was beading on her face.

“Livia, would you please let her go?” Winnie tried.

Llivia did not.

“She hasn’t reached for her knife once. And look at her, she’s scared.”

Rat opened her mouth to protest, but one last glance to the fire had her shutting her mouth again, and looked to Livia pleadingly.

Finally, she did. Rat nearly fell backwards, and instead bolted to Winnie.

Livia’s sword was raised again, and Rhoan spread his hands wide to hold her. But Winnie held a hand up, towards them, catching Rat as she wrapped her arms around Winnie’s middle. She was small, even compared to Winnie, and her head only barely came up to Winnie’s shoulder as she pressed in tight, eyes trained on the other two as if daring them to come any closer.

Winnie wrapped her own arms around Rat’s shoulders. “Let her eat first, at least. It’s not like we’re going to pick the bushes clean on our own, right?”

Tag List: @fearlings-lament @maitretmaitresse @purpleshadows1989 @madammuffins

#writeblr #writing #wip #sidhewrites #ashes #ashes exerpt #ashes draft #ashes draft 1 #this is chapter five billion tbh #or at least like. 30 idk #but i have rat's entire character arc planned out yall are gonna love it #ashes chapter

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masterweaverx · 5 years

Text

What’s in a laugh?

“Welp, it’s been a hell of a night.” Saki yawned, stretching her arms above her. “Think we should call it. We might not need to sleep as often as the living, but I don’t like going more than three days without--”

“Actually, could you help me with something?” Ai asked. “I think I saw... a rat or something downstairs.”

Sakura and Junko squeaked in unison.

“A r-r-rat?!”

“What if it bites us? What if it thinks we’re food?”

“That’s why I want Saki to help,” Ai assured them. “She’s probably the best of us at dealing with rats.”

Yugiri quirked an eyebrow. “There’s always Tae-chan.”

“Eh, leaving Tae-chan to guard you all is probably better,” Saki admitted, standing up. “She’d probably eat the rat if she got hold of it.”

“Grrrm,” Tae agreed.

“If it does come up here, make sure it doesn’t wake Lily up, huh?” Saki walked out the door. “Today was rough on her, and she needs her rest.”

Ai frowned to herself, her padded footsteps softly treading through the hall and down the stairs. She followed Saki into the kitchen, fiddling with her fingers.

“Right.” The blonde put her hands on her hips. “Let’s get this over with. Where’d you say you saw this rat?”

“Actually, I didn’t. See a rat, I mean.”

Saki turned to her, her brow furrowed. “Are you just wasting my time? Is that it?”

“You said it doesn’t matter what kind of junk Lily has,” Ai pointed out, crossing her arms.

“Well, yeah. What, you think it does?”

“No, that’s not what I’m getting at.” She narrowed her eyes. “Not fifteen minutes ago you were rolling on the floor and laughing. And now you say it doesn’t matter--”

“Oh! No, I wasn’t laughing at the whole junk thing,” Saki assured her. “Just... Masao Go? ‘Rightous Man Grand’? I mean come on, that’s like getting a rabbit and calling it Bloodsaw Gorefest Bonesplatter! It’s hilarious!”

Ai pinched her forehead, shutting her eyes. “Mocking somebody’s deadname--”

“Whoa, hold on, mocking? I wasn’t mocking her.”

“You actually kind of were.”

Saki crossed her arms. “No, I wasn’t.”

“You just said that her having such a manly name is hilarious.”

“And it is. But it doesn’t mean I was mocking her.”

“Really?” Ai gestured upward. “You didn’t hear how upset she sounded when you were laughing?”

The blonde shrugged dismissively. “She was annoyed and angry, sure, but I don’t think she was hurt or anything.”

An expression of utter disbelief passed over Ai’s face.

“Okay, look.” Saki held up her hands. “There’s teasing, and there’s insulting. I was teasing her. I wasn’t insulting her.”

“You’re going to have to explain that.”

“Right, okay...” The girl rubbed her chin for a moment. “...Okay. So, you got hit by lightning in the middle of a show and died, right?”

Ai rubbed her shoulder. “I don’t get why you’re bringing that up.”

“It’s what I’m trying to... see, if I were to start saying things like ‘sure was shocking,’ ‘that was a high-voltage performance,’ crap like that, that’s teasing. Because let’s be honest, looking at it that whole event is pretty far out there.” Saki held up a finger. “But if I said something stupid like, ‘you deserved that bolt’ or whatever, no. That’s insulting. That’s taking the ridiculous thing and pinning it on you, even though you had no control over it, and that isn’t right.”

Ai took a moment to consider that. “...o...kay... I can sort of see where you’re coming from there. But if that’s true... why haven’t you been using those teasing phrases with me?”

Saki opened her mouth, paused, and considered for a moment. “...You ever hear the phrase ‘no pain, no gain’?”

“All the time,” said the former dancing star.

“Yeah, so let’s be honest--there are some mean-ass people out there. Sure, I’m a jerk, but I’m not a bitch... or worse. There are people who would call Yugiri a whore, who’d call Junko a doll, who’d... call Lily a trap. And I’d punch every last one of them in the face if I heard them, but I can’t be everywhere, right? So, yeah, I tease people. It hurts, but it’s little friendly scratches. Lets them practice how to fight back, when they need to. Lily got riled up when I laughed. She’s tough, she’ll be okay. You...”

Saki glanced away for a moment.

“...you’ve got guts. You can stand up to your fears. But that doesn’t mean that lightning bolt isn’t still hurting you, on the inside. I’m not teasing you because I don’t think you could take it... yet. Maybe someday. Maybe someday soon. But not yet.”

Ai shut her eyes, taking a few moments to figure out her next words.

“...I’m not sure Lily needs tough love. And honestly, I don’t know if your ‘teasing’ was even fair at all. It’s a delicate issue--”

“You know, being gay used to be a delicate issue. Or being from the wrong country. Or hell, being a woman. Then people started talking about it openly.” Saki put her hands on her hips. “World’s filled with problems, and they aren’t going to get solved if people aren’t willing to act like they exist.”

The bandaged girl pinched her brow again. “Yes, but what you did is laugh at her when she revealed something personal.”

“Not her. The ridiculous names, sure, but never Lily.” Saki rolled her eyes. “And if she doesn’t get that, I’ll talk with her about it tomorrow, okay?”

“It wasn’t just the names, you laughed at how she died!”

“Oh come on. ‘Whoops, I’ve got ONE WHISKER, time for a heart attack.’ That is melodramatic as--”

“Hormone therapy can increase risk of heart attacks!”

Saki’s eyes went wide as she reeled back. “...seriously?”

She nodded. “A woman came to one of our shows--back when I was with Iron Frill, I mean. Her daughter wanted to come to the show, but she was in the hospital... I gave her a personally signed photo, one of those ‘I believe in you’ things.” Her eyes fell to the ground. “Things like that... you remember things like that.”

“Well... crap, now I feel bad.” Saki rubbed the back of her head. “I mean... do you think Lily was on hormone therapy? She seems kind of young for it.”

Ai shrugged. “I... don’t know that much about the medical side. Only way to know is to ask Lily herself.”

“Eh...” After a moment, Saki shook her head. “Let’s drop that. Doesn’t matter now, we’re dead anyway. Still... damn. Okay, yeah, if that’s actually a thing that can happen...”

She considered for a moment.

“...You know what, I’m going to make her some cookies.”

Ai blinked. “What?”

“We’re in a kitchen, aren’t we?” Saki started rifling through the cabinets. “I mean, I hope Shades isn’t one of those total bachlors who buys everything pre-baked.”

“No, hold on, you can bake?!”

“Heh. You don’t know everything about me, Sparkles.”

#Zombie Land Saga #Fanfiction #What's in a laugh?#Saki Nikaido #Ai Mizuno

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dwestfieldblog · 3 years

Text

REVELATION: 2021

...’Then I saw a new heaven and a new earth...see, the home of God is among the mortals.’ Hope you are staying sane. Meanwhile, from my war room (arf) inside a deep (astral) state within a non binary body...hallucinating realities...

Imagine, if you will, millions in a democratic country, who gladly make (and addictively want to) their private thoughts known via social media and are quite happy to tell random pollsters on the street their feelings on any subject of which they are asked. And plenty on which they are not. So pleased to be asked their righteous opinion, so ego led deluded that anybody might ‘like’ their words that they will spout the hatred their hearts feel on issues of the day and in their lives without a care where such information goes. They want to be heard and so, they are. Now imagine a computer driven listening and watching station with instructions from media masters, political leaders, and advertising companies paying close attention to the data gathered. Not actual facts as such but almost all emotion led opinions, collated to show the group mindset of a subsection of a country.

An algorithm can be created for what products would most likely appeal to that mass. Guns, (for random example), waterproof bibles, clothing for survivalists. You have direct knowledge of this already when You tube, your email, Alexa etc ‘suggest’ something you might/should like, based on what you have ordered, written, or spoken online. This year I have been getting dozens of spam emails for bad eyesight, Viagra type stuff and hair loss. HA. My age must be written somewhere. Not much stress on imagination to see how simple it is for organisations like the ex Cambridge Anal lytica etc to capture and utilise such info via Facebook. Or how enemies of a country could understand in no short order what makes a country really tick below the surface and how to manipulate those emotionally crippled, poorly educated AND those who seek power over others. Psychographic profiling...stop giggling at the back there...

Cui bono (who benefits) from seeding disorder? Follow the money, ‘it’s only business’. An algorithm which reveals just what people believe and who can then be exploited en masse as useful idiots to disrupt the usual inbred spastic normality of daily life in a human country. And it is dirt cheap because people WANT to reveal themselves and a rival country need only a minimum outlay of actual infiltrating agent provocateurs (many of whom will be actual natives.) A set up involving ‘sock puppets’ which serves the same purpose as APs...the legendary bots and fake identities rattling off tweets and false flag Facebook pages, rallying the disaffected faithful. ‘More evidence that the targeting works and predicts our behaviour’.

Now, once the group targets have been identified, seek out those among them who long for their moment of fame, their years of special importance and time of power. They will have already made clear their characters in online posts. Weakling Alpha types cowering their insecurities behind a loud voice. They hunger for followers, to be ‘liked’, (a basic larval human need for most) and admired for their rightness. Show them support, aid their voices to spread, mysterious donors for the message; Anybody not similar to you MUST be the opposite...and therefore, the enemy. Step by step, the daily hormone rush reprogrammes and the opinions become a self fulfilling prophecy, imprinting over all sense of reason. So now you have your moronic masses (and those dumb enough to want to lead them) most of whom are too stupid (or busy surviving) to realise they are being manipulated from afar by those who understand what is within and do not have their countries’ interests at heart. Bombarded with attack ads and propaganda... ‘Until they saw the world the way we want them to’...

Some of the leaders, big or small, will actually know they are puppets but will think it acceptable as long as they are given a little pat on the head via position and power. And a lot of money. Most, (whether mass or leader of such infiltrated countries) will be certain they are doing what they do in the name of Freedom and Democracy, while all the time, being used to further limit the same. Hilariously, bleakly, deathly ironic. From hubris to nemesis.

Yes, I am writing about Brexit and Trumpists and Q Onan. Et al, etc. Ad infinitum. Almost. Those in democratic countries who are ceaselessly working unbeknown to themselves against most of what they demand the most. ‘To take back control’. No children, you are creating a system where you will have less and less of this. ‘Follow the white rabbit’? No, you are following an algorithm in highly predictive patterns to those who own it and by extension, you.

‘I love my country!’ Do you? Why are you working free of charge for another who only wants to see your Union and partnerships broken? You vote for ridiculous men like Trump and Farrage because they are not the government and think you are rebel anarchists who will herald a new dawn of purifying flame...by substituting yet more slime who care only for their own power.

Someone points the finger, uses a trigger word and you do the Pavlov dog. Someone claps their hands and you pay unquestioning attention to their misinformation. Look over there, the world is being run by Satanic, child abusing faggot socialist liberals and foreign scum. Arf. So why are you obeying one of the above mentioned groups in the name of taking back control of your freedom? Because they already know how you will react. Because you created the infamous All Seeing eye yourselves by feeding information into the data base. Because you are so easy to trick into believing you are thinking for yourselves. ‘They’ don’t need to insert chips or vaccines with nano bots, they can just implant you with audio visual media and Nuremberg style rallies.

Take two blonde, fat stupid white men. Liars to the highest degree. One an entitled megalomaniac spoiled child and the other with half the megalomania. A glance at their track record and into their eyes should have told you all. Seems it didn’t. It took over four years and up to the week Trump left, for the rats to finally start jumping ship and for the band of the Titanic to start changing their tune. Twitter took four years to decide to cut off his fix. Nero played golf while America burned with Covid. 414,000 dead. Incitement to riot? Incitement to riot. Investigate his wannabe aristocratic family and do not allow his children anywhere near politics. Or Smug petulant Kusher anywhere near business.

Over 74 million still think Trump is a go to guy rather than a take a running jump at kicking him up his arse. He pardoned various criminals, including Bannon, (lest the fascist scuzzball fink on him)...and no pardon for Maxwell... who still could, unless she also should manage to ‘kill herself’ by accident fnord in prison. Seems likely Donald could run for office again, form his own party....What? Pence announced ‘Space Force’ personnel will be called Guardians; yes really...this year will see their first battle against the children of Thanos. Thanos, thy name is Trump. But lacking the compassion or humour.

Good morning to billionaire Mr Robert Mercer...a ‘Christian’ Conservative, gun lover, climate change denier, donor of over 100 million dollars to right wing candidates, 15 million of which went into Cambridge Analytica/Brexit and more to Breitbart and Trumps 2016 campaign. On the face of it, both he and his second daughter Rebekah would seem to have their fingers hard on many triggers of chaos, all of which serve only the rich and Russia. Breaking up partnerships, friendships, splitting unions and sowing discord. Check. Encouraging the working and middle class to merely shift their belief across to another band of disreputable rich guys by telling them how corrupt the other rich guys are. Look out! They might be Socialists! A lot of them are Europeans! They eat children and want immigrants to swarm over your town! Works like a charm. It would be so nice if billionaires would actually behave in a decent moral way (yes, sarcasm) and actually help out more, regardless of whether there is a return on their ‘charity’, instead of being the James Bond villain scum they act like.

And speaking of Q...HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! Arf. That narcissist prick in horns Jacob Chansley of Arizona...Shaman? Shame man. Bullhorn? Bullsh...t. No hanging lawmakers for you boy. He only eats organic food? So what? A lover of nature? Which is why he wears fur and horns and wishes death upon fellow Americans who are ‘traitors’. The Kremlin and Mercer have done a job as sweet as they did with Brexit divisions. Just let the rabid cretins do all their work for them splitting unions. Well, it’s what the CIA did so well against communism. Now it is our turn. Watching yanks and brits demand more control of their democracy while pulling it apart. Hilarious. Q Onan wanked their conspiracy to death and are now confused the Golden One has not led them to the revolution...not exactly levitating the Pentagon are you?

They believed the world is run by a paedo satan worshipping elite who plot against Trump and operate a global child sex trafficking ring. Yes really. So you can see how they appeal to the deranged righteous Christian gun toting hordes and internet savvy youth against the Deep State. Arf arf arf. The Kemlin will have studied key points as to what gets the average American and British goat and exploited it. People are so keen to share their beliefs, ideas and fears on social media that it is simple to collect and combine such info...(as happened with Cambridge Analytica) and use it for manipulating gain. Putin/Mercer probably told Trump the nature of the beast. ’If you want followers, do this...’Follow the algorithm. Dying covid patients continue to deny they even have it in South Dakota etc...that is how well the misinformation works.

Boris. A pathetic deal with Europe after an endless mantric blather of an ‘oven ready Brexit’. The chumocracy in full force as Ayanda Capital receive a 150 million pound PPE contract and provide no masks at all. And tax exile Tory donor (Lord) Ashcroft’s firm lands a 350 million pound vaccine contract (without a tendering process). Well, rather help a pal than put money into the National Health Service eh Boris? In 2019, the music industry brought in around 5.8 BILLION pounds, whereas the fishing industry netted (arf) 446 million. Sunak and Johnson have not seen fit to grant work permits for musicians to play in Europe and bands from outside will find it harder to get visas to tour in Plagueland. ‘Health’ secretary Matt Hancock said it was ‘Peculiarly unusual’ why British people went to work when they were ill. ‘Why in Britain do we think it’s acceptable to soldier on and go into work if you have flu symptoms...’Hmm. Germany pays 100 percent of sick pay. Czech Republic pays approx 60. The UK? 26. Good enough answer you prick? This guy also voted against food parcels for children, and then reversed only after an outcry.

The ever lovely Good Catholic William Rees Mogg called UNICEF’s feeding of poor English children during a pandemic at Christmas a ‘publicity stunt’. Hmm...well in 2019 the charity received 6.4 billion in contributions of which the Tory government of the UK donated 494 million. Perhaps UNICEF wanted to make a point that the UK has the largest number of food banks in the democratic world (over 2000, Germany has 900) and that it was a little beyond shameful that this was necessary. Still making money from selling birth control/termination pills in Indonesia after having said all contraception even in cases of rape was wrong Billy? The English gentleman also said he found the rise in food bank usage as being ‘rather uplifting’. Verrry Christian man. And that rotting British fish are ‘happier’ now out of Europe. A joke? The 2019 EU clampdown on tax avoidance will be avoided by him thanks to Brexit. Heavenly off shore interests, Glory! ‘How hard it is for the rich to enter the kingdom of God’. It easier for a camel to piss through the eye of a needle than for a rich man to enter the kingdom of god. Mark 10 21:25. Good luck Billy.

Met a Christian guy again who tried to tell me a parable of sorts. A little bird was flying and suddenly fell into a field dead, a cow walked over and took a dump on the little bird and the heat of the manure brought the bird back to life. Overjoyed he started to sing and was heard by a cat that killed it. The moral being, don’t interfere with God’s plan. I wondered if that had been where Christ went wrong...perhaps he should have left lepers to die...but obviously no...he was a special case. Aha, so nobody should try and help anybody ever if they have a problem or are suffering. No one should help their own children, no doctors or surgeons...but priests are allowed because the intermediaries through whom the pious live vicariously are essential workers. Great parable. If you believe in God, don’t help anyone else. That’s the story of Christ eh?

The man who told me the story also said Donald was a great guy...I need to remind him Trump has broken every single one of the Ten Commandments (apart from direct murder) The burning cross is a T for Trump... ‘The function of law and theology are the same: to keep the poor from taking back by violence what the rich have stolen by cunning’. ‘The function of theology? The recitation of the incomprehensible by the unspeakable to pick the pockets of the unthinking’. RAW. Natures God. Hilaritas Press.

The most wisdom from China since Confucius was tweeted several weeks ago to the smug frog like Nigel Farage who had written ‘Christmas cancelled. Thank you China.’ Upon which, the Middle Kingdom between Heaven and Earth replied ‘Wear a mask and stop talking s..t’. Wonderful...shame the state media Global Times then spoiled it by writing a pot/kettle article which suggested that such politicians...’care only about their political ambitions and see ordinary people as roadside grass.’ From a regime which mowed its own teenage children down in tank fire, ran over their bodies and sent the price of the bullets used in the execution of young rebels to their parents.

Meanwhile, back in the temple of ketamine far away from all that nonsense... Universe will respond non locally to my thought...All pure chance as exists cross divided in all encircling mode, arf...non-local effects...’the ‘maybe’ in between ‘yes’ and ‘no’ in Quantum Logic, of ‘solid’ ‘objects’ that are superimpositions of waves, according to one quantum model, and of ‘minds’ that are superimpositions of waves if the ‘minds’ are transactions involving brains and the brains are made of cells which are made of atoms which are made of electrons which are superimpositions of waves’. RAW THE NEW INQUISITION. Yes. And...

The hidden variable theory of consciousness asserts (1) there is a subquantal level beneath the observational/theoretical structure of ordinary quantum mechanics; (2) events occurring on this subquantal level are the elements of sentient being. Drs Walker and Herbert.

‘Consciousnesses in this model is not ‘in’ our heads. Our brains are merely local receivers ‘consciousnesses ‘is’ ‘an aspect of the non-local field’ The ‘ego’ then is the locally tuned in aspect of this usually not-tuned-in non local field.

‘...we find that our consciousness controls physical events though the laws of quantum mechanics.’ Magick. Rise in Love, ‘arouse the coiled splendour within you’ :-)

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galaxias-ss · 4 years

Text

On Killing A Rat

"By gnawing through a dike, even a rat may additionally drown a country." Edmund Burke Custom Made Jewellery Few creatures in the Western global are as feared and reviled as the commonplace rat. Rats are related to tenement slums, sewers and garbage. They bring ailment, pollute food, and are notoriously difficult to get rid of after they establish a colony. In mob circles an informer is referred to as a rat. When I turned into a boy my playmates and I would yell, "You rat!" at every different when we desired to use an expletive that might now not get our mouths washed out with soap. Rats terrorized Winston Smith, the protagonist of 1984, and in Richard Wright's Native Son, Bigger Thomas kills a rat with an iron skillet as the novel starts. Albert Camus' The Plague opens with hundreds of rats lifeless on the streets of Oran, a precursor to the pestilence approximately to crush the city.

But I had little private revel in with rats. A few youngsters I knew saved rats as pets, and they appeared nothing extra than oversized mice, much like what the Romans called "Mus Maximus" (Big Mouse, a rat, in different phrases) in preference to "Mus Minimus" (Little Mouse). So when early one evening at the beginning of summer 2011 I noticed a hairy brown creature with a protracted tail scampering about the branches of my lemon tree, I turned into nonplused. This become no small kid's pet. This turned into a big, bloated, and quite repulsive animal that had made its way into my outdoor and turned into now gorging itself on the contents of one in every of my chicken feeders. With exceptional dexterity it crawled headfirst down the tubular aspect, planted itself at the circular perch wherein the birds are meant to sit, and ate as if there was no the next day, twitching its nose like a rabbit and the usage of its paws like an electric powered noticed. It ran when I approached, shifting with splendid pace, up the side of the chook feeder and again up into the branches, disappearing among the leaves.

The next night it was back again, eating ravenously. At dusk the day after that it added a accomplice. Now there had been two, and the subsequent night there were 4. These rats were multiplying exponentially. Going to my PC I typed the phrase "rats" on Google. I were given over 95,000,000 effects, and a short perusal of among the articles I observed informed me I had a trouble I had better do something positive about, and not using a time to lose.

I had to put off the rats, or soon I might be overrun with them. Rats are notorious for how rapid they reproduce. But I desired to do it as humanely as viable and in as environmentally pleasant a manner as I should. I made a go to to the nearest hardware save, and after a careful study what become on the cabinets below the conventional identify "Rodent Control," I came away with what I idea had been the pleasant choices: Two small plastic "rodent bins," with round holes on either facet for the rats to pass through, 4 locations inner to area the blocks of poison (that way simplest the rats and no longer some neighborhood cat might be able to get to them) and locations for a spring-loaded rat entice, two of which I bought. These had been, I determined, a quantum soar in pressure from the old skool Victor timber mousetraps I had visible formerly. The jaws of those got here down with a terrifying crash that in reality startled me the primary time I heard it, and could clearly bring immediately (and optimistically painless) loss of life to any rat that went after the peanut butter I used as bait. I set the traps, located the blocks of ugly inexperienced poison of their spots, and placed the bins beneath the timber a few toes apart from one another, sprinkled some chook seed round each, and waited. While I waited I spent extra time on Google, gaining knowledge of approximately rats.

Rats are maximum notorious for having added the Black Plague to Europe inside the 14th Century. Coming along the Silk Road from China, rats carrying plague-bearing fleas reached the Crimea in 1346, and from there were given on board ships bound for Europe. The resultant pandemic, perhaps the worst in records, killed an predicted one-1/2 of the population. Medieval medication could not find out the reason nor should it deal with the sick. People went to mattress apparently healthy and died of their sleep. The lifeless have been so numerous that in some locations there has been no person left to bury them. Europe could not recover for 150 years.

But there is plenty more to the human-rat dating than the plague, as I turned into soon to find out. Rats have doggedly observed inside the footsteps of human migration. Where there are humans, there might be rats. Rats now live on each continent on the planet except Antarctica, making them the most successful mammal on this planet after humans. It is expected there is one rat for every human on the planet. One story, perhaps apocryphal, states that in places where rats are specifically severa, a person at any given time is no extra than ten toes far from one.

Rats have an super present for survival. On Engebi, one of the Eniwetok Atolls wherein nuclear bombs had been tested inside the 1950s, scientists lower back to see what remained after the bombs were exploded. They determined radioactive soil, plants destroyed-and a thriving colony of rats. Rats can live to tell the tale a fall of 50 ft with out harm. Excellent swimmers, they can pass wide rivers (a massive mass migration of rats changed into recorded in Southern Russia in 1727 when thousands of them swam throughout the River Volga from Astrakhan). They can tread water for three days with out resting and dive to depths of 100 feet. They live an average of two to three years, and a girl rat typically has a clutter of 6 to 12 offspring six or seven times a yr. They stay in colonies (packs) with every rat's vicinity in the social order determined by using their combating capability, the dominant men at the pinnacle. They sleep collectively, groom every different, and have interaction in play and play-combating. When the colony gets too large, the more youthful adult males leave to start colonies of their own.

Rats are recognized for his or her sharp enamel and powerful jaws. Not most effective are their tooth sharp, they are extremely difficult: Measured on the Mohs hardness scale they arrive in at five.5, more difficult than iron or platinum, and greater than 1/2 as tough as diamond, which measures 10. These hard enamel allow rats to gnaw thru timber, bone, plastic pipe, even brick. Rats will consume almost anything, and have been known to eat soap, leather, and furs, however opt for grain, livestock feed, and meat of diverse kinds, such as human, although cases of which are rare. But with their sizeable appetites, they can and could consume one 0.33 in their frame weight every day.

Their eyesight is negative, restrained to only some feet. They hear extraordinarily nicely, and have extraordinarily evolved sense of contact and odor. A rat can run 24 miles an hour for a quick distance. They are considered clever, one of the reasons they're in demand for laboratory experiments, and a 2007 observe observed rats to possess metacognition, "understanding about knowing," an ability formerly documented handiest in people and primates.

In a few elements of the world, human beings pray to rats. In India rats are seen as a automobile for Lord Ganesha, and statues of rats take a seat in Ganesha temples. At the Temple of the Rats, in Rajasthan nation, worshippers take this a step further and permit 20,000 of the furry creatures to stay inside the temple, considering them holy creatures called kabbas. Killing one there, as you could have guessed, is taboo, and the rats are allowed to run loose even as the trustworthy attend to their prayers inside the temple. In the Philippines, Thailand, Cambodia, and components of Polynesia, rats are eaten as a part of the ordinary weight loss program. In China the rat is the primary animal of the Chinese Zodiac, and people born within the Year of the Rat are thought to own features of honesty, creativity, intelligence and ambition-attributes that rats are notion to have as well.

I nonetheless needed to do away with the rats in my outdoor. For a few days nothing regarded to occur. The rats nonetheless regarded every nighttime for their dinner party of bird seed, but I did word their numbers were no longer growing. Then past due one afternoon I heard a rustling sound from beneath the trees in which I had left the rodent packing containers. Something become moving within the fallen leaves. I went to take a better look and saw a small rodent head pop out of the hole at the side of the box. This became accompanied with the aid of about half of of the rat's body. It munched greedily at the bird seed that I had spread on the ground, the usage of its paws vigorously, similar to the manner a ground squirrel feeds, then pulled again within the box, best to emerge again a second later to eat more. As I came closer it gave me a sidelong glance, decided I changed into no considered one of any importance, ate more, after which disappeared once again.

Something became out of synch right here. Why failed to it run away? Why hadn't it tripped the lure internal? Tentatively I were given nearer, but I wasn't eager on getting too near-I had no want to get bitten by way of the rat. Meanwhile the rat persevered to eat. Then it made a lunging motion, and more of its body emerged from the hole and it attempted to walk away, pulling the entire box at the side of it.

I cautiously opened the field, and saw what I did no longer need to see: Somehow the rat had sprung the lure, but as opposed to crushing its head and killing it, the trap had stuck its hindquarters, proper on the spot wherein the tail joins the body. The rat become caught, however now not useless and now not about to die, and when I found out this I became trapped just as sincerely because the rat, trapped with the aid of the know-how of what I had achieved and no longer understanding what to do about it.

The rat twitched its nose and checked out me reproachfully, as if to say, "Why have you ever carried out this to me?" It not seemed a ferocious sewer residing provider of pestilence however a small hairy creature in problem and in pain. I become struck through its size, too: It was like a little rabbit or a guinea pig, something that a child might keep as pet in a cage with a going for walks wheel and a small field of water.

What to do? I should get a hammer and bash its head in, however that might now not be retaining with my dedication to be humane. I ought to leave it there, in which it'd die a sluggish, agonizing demise that might take who is aware of how long to accomplish. I ought to turn it loose, but that seemed counter-effective-I had desired to do away with the rats, and however there was the threat of being bitten.

The rat struggled a few greater, nevertheless seeking to get unfastened. But its efforts had been in useless. The jaws of the trap held it fast. Once once more it checked out me, as though I were its savior. I determined I did no longer need to look any extra. I closed the box quickly, then got a five gallon bucket and turning it the other way up, placed it over the box and the rat. If the rat have been capable of get unfastened the bucket would preserve it, and I would not need to take a look at it and be reminded of what I had finished. Out of sight, out of mind.

But no longer completely. I became haunted by way of that image of the rat attempting and then failing to get out of the lure. I stored taking into account it stuck in the ones horrible jaws, and the way it checked out me. I started to don't forget stories I had heard of animals stuck in traps that chewed their personal limbs off so that it will break out.

In a short time I knew what I had to do: I would have to set the rat unfastened. Putting on a pair of welding gloves I went returned into the backyard. I took away the bucket and another time opened the container. This time I took the trap, rat and all, and set it on the ground. The rat made no attempt to chunk me. It watched me carefully, with a affected person demeanor, as if ready to look what I had in thoughts. Reaching over carefully, I launched the jaws of the lure. The immediately the trap opened the rat ran- so rapid my eyes could slightly observe it-up the aspect of the closest tree and disappeared.

I placed each traps away. Rats and human beings ought to learn to co-exist with one another, it appears, and if rats are based upon people which will stay, human beings also want rats to preserve existence in angle. "Evermore inside the international is this marvelous stability of splendor and disgust, magnificence and rats," Ralph Waldo Emerson said. If people ever succeed in destroying themselves, perhaps the rats will inherit the earth. I don't really want to share my outdoor with rats, however I am not going to entice any more of them, and if one wanders into my yard from time to time to consume birdseed, so be it. So I may not lure any more of them, but I might not pray to them, nor will I eat one. Perhaps when all is said and executed, the rats might not devour me both.

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elixandriavulpini-blog · 6 years

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Spark of a Flame

(( OOC NOTE BEFORE YOU READ: This is an rp that happened I only have this here right now as it’s going to be revised and edited to Elix’s point of view this week. Please bare with me because I do work a lot. <3 ))

As Spade sat by the fire Elixandria let herself get lost as she continued to pet her steed, 'gambling... hmm..' she thought as she stared into the woods that creaked beyond the creature. Spade was busy cooking still as his focus was on skinning a rabbit for the moment. Her gaze looked back at him from under that hood as she thought about what fate had in store for her. The man was handsome with dark hair that was well cut to a medium length, those green eyes of his focusing as he was busy with his task.

After a moment of silence a playful smirk found it's way onto Elixir's lips and an amused laugh escaped her, "Well lucky for you I am quite used to gambling and I must say I'm pretty good at it if I try." That smirk of hers slowly turned into a grin as her thoughts continued to dance in her head, "Wouldn't mind maybe getting in on a game or two if you wanted to play." She was trying to keep the conversation going in a direction that hopefully wouldn't bore the man.

She continued to pet her steed before turning to walk toward him, her steps careful and smooth. Coming to a stop by the fire she let her gaze get lost once again in those flames as she continued to think, "You should also give me one good reason to trust you, other than the fact you are making sure that I don't starve to death and the horse I stole a few months ago doesn't die." Her gaze then flicked from the flames to look at his form from under her hood.

Spade cocked his head up at her as a playful grin curled over his lips. A hint of flirtatious aura taking over his visage, "Perhaps.." He replied as he turned the iron rod around so the rabbit could cook evenly. "Wouldn't keeping you alive... feeding you, giving you a nice warm tent to sleep in be enough... Elixir?" He inquired glancing over his shoulder and towards the tent.

His eyes followed the trail he took this morning remembering the slight warmth to the tent. To anyone else it would suffice and give them the necessary warmth, but to him he shivered and could barely get a nights rest. Glancing back up at her, his tongue stuck out partially as he moved it across his inner bottom lip. "I can tell the horse was stolen. From an official or from a farmer? I won't turn you in for petty thievery, neither would I turn you in for admitting to killing people for coin.. I do my own fair share of crimes. Gambling isn't the only thing I do." Spade then lifted his arm to point to the blades on her holster, "Do you know how to use your blades? And do you know how to use them properly?"

Elix looked at him with a curious gaze however her smirk shifted to a very lost look. After a few moments she frowned and looked down at the blades on her hips, "I do... but I could be better I suppose.." She thought this over for a moment before she looked at him again, her hooded head tilting, "Why do you ask?"

His questions had made her feel uneasy as she shifted from one foot to the other, an uncomfortable sway as most would call it. The woman had a lot to hide, she was a criminal but at the same time she wasn't the best with blades and she would admit it. But how does one commit crimes without using a blade of sorts? It was a curious question that most would ask as she stood there for a moment, her bottom lip tucking into her mouth as she bit it.

"Spade.. I did just meet you but I suppose I will let you in on a little secret.. I need proper training in how to use these blades... because I'm better with magic.." As if on queue a light blue glow would come from under that hood of hers as her runes started to faintly glow on her cheeks. Perhaps she was a mage but what kind of mage was she if she wore leathers and killed?

Spade kept his eyes on her. "I'm not going to pressure you to tell me your back story, neither will I force you to. Tell me on your own accord and when or if you ever trust me. I can teach you how to use those blades, but you'll have to trust me first. That's a hard pill to swallow and it will take some time. But, I'm willing to wait." He offered as he moved to stand up.

He was taller than her, significantly so. He wore dark leathers, there were no colors, just pure black stained leather. Noticing her slight shift on her foot, he stretched his arm out and used the back of his hand to push her more towards her right. "Keep leaning over like that and you'll fall in the fire."

Considering she was distracted most of the time she didn't realize just how tall Spade was until he stood up, that dark figure sort of just looming over her little below average height self. She nodded to his words however as she looked up at him however when he reached out that hand to shift her toward her right she hesitated before moving. "Trust is something hard to come by as of late but we will see.. so far you haven't given me a reason to not trust you." Once Elix had moved he did as well to turn the rod once again.

Elixandria watched him cook for now as her markings glowed lightly against her skin. When he looked back at her finally he noticed the glow on her cheeks. The runes illuminated her features faintly, but enough to give him a rough idea of what she looked like. Not wanting to make her uncomfortable, he glanced over towards the right. "I'll train you... but it's best you keep your magic use to a minimum. Use it when you absolutely need to. Magic can be messy, especially if you need to kill someone discretely. When you're fully rested, fed, hydrated. Then I'll teach you. Right now, you may end up trying to kill me if you really think I'm going to attack you."

She had noticed his stare which caused the runes to fade back against her pale skin, hidden from sight as an amused smirk crossed her lips, "You know... it's not nice to stare, you might become obsessed." She mused as she was trying to be somewhat friendly, a rare thing for her. Elixandria was pale but beautiful to most, perhaps to beautiful to be hiding under a cloak but she liked life this way. Blood stained leathers, a fire, and some friendly banter as she could forever remain unknown. It was a life she chose to live.

"I'll do my best if you are willing to teach... however I can't guarantee I wont use them to defend myself if I feel threatened. I have this strange feeling you aren't afraid to kill me either, but perhaps that's because I'm just a stranger you met one foggy morning who was probably close to not having a horse." She continued to smirk now, "If I wake up tomorrow normal with everything how I left it, then perhaps I'll trust you and will think twice about killing you."

"Think twice?" He repeated turning his attention back to her. A coy grin spread over his lips as he took one step towards her which caused her to blink in surprise under her hood. Her smirk vanishing in an instant due to the fact that he was much closer than she liked anyone to be. Lulling his head from side to side as he did Spade continued, "As a matter of fact love... I'm not." He replied lifting both hands towards the side of her head. His thumbs quickly slipped in from underneath her hood and quickly pushed it back to have the black hood rest over her shoulders.

Elix closed her eyes as she didn't do much to prevent this, "Really..." She sighed out as her face was exposed. Spade was be greeted by a woman with long black bangs that cascaded down either side of her face to her chin as her hair was tied back behind her head. Her rune markings faded against her pale skin to the point they were almost unnoticeable. After a moment she sort of turned her head away to not look at him as her eyes opened to focus on the ground. Her arms crossed now as if to hide even more due to the fact that she was shy of her appearance. Those ice blue and white flecked hues of hers looking through the blades of grass as if to keep her focus away from him.

"Trust... might want to begin with that." He took a step back and pulled the rabbit from the clamps and placed both fish on by their back fins. "I wouldn't say obsessed though, curious maybe." He quipped as the cooked rabbit was thrown into a pot that was cleaned earlier that morning. "I have no motive to kill you Elixir, and you're not someone I was hired to kill either. The person I was hired to kill, has a dark blue hair color, wears a lighter shade of a blue satin dress. Disguises herself as a mage, but is really a warlock and practices necromancy. They saw her as a threat and nobody was able to find her. It's why I'm out here. You're not her, so I have no reason to kill you."

Elix continued to look down at the grass for a moment as she replied to him, "I suppose I don't have much of a choice, you have the upper hand right now.. Also I hate necromancers so honestly I wouldn't mind helping you find her.. in my personal opinion I would prefer most of them to be eaten alive by rats." She spoke with a slight venom in her voice.

Spade pulled his gloves off and threw them to the ground beside the pot before moving closer to her. "I'll give you my real name, when we can both trust each other... fully. Not partially, fully. How about that? Does that put you at ease, little lady?"

She smiled slightly before she moved her right hand to pull her hood back up only to be stopped by Spades fingers lightly wrapping around her wrist, "Keep it down.. suits you more." his touch was genuine and soft but when he released he lowered his arm to his side once more. He watched her from behind as his gaze was only met with her tied back black hair. Spade noticed her runes were no longer illuminated like he had seen before as they were now pale against her skin.

Nodding slowly, Spade reserved to taking a few steps forward and curved around to stop in front of her. "Trying to swoon me or something?" She questioned as her gaze was still looking down to avoid his own for now until he moved to place the side of his index finger along with the pad of his thumb on her chin, gently lifting it so she was forced to look at him now. "Aye.. really. Didn't know the little lady was such a beauty. Suppose I'd have to step up my game." He couldn't help but tease.

His touch was something Elix didn't expect at all as her ice blue hues were forced to meet his gaze, this man was bold very bold. Spade simply continued his banter as he lowered his arm and reached for a blade on her holster. "Names... they're either a bane or a blessing. But they can also hold a story... I doubt your parents named you after a vial of concoction they brewed. And it's obvious my parents didn't name me from a symbol drawn on cards."

Spade twirled the tip of her blade on his index finger just breaking the first layers of his skin. "I still stand by my word. I'll teach you how to use your blades. And, whatever else you're not versed in. Just let me know and I'll see what I can do." he then quickly twirled the blade and his hand take the steel and handed her the hilt. In that moment he had no choice but to trust her. He was handing her a blade while he had nothing on him.

"If you're playing a game well then I suppose you picked a very dangerous one to play.." She offered him a half smirk as a sly look came to her eyes as she watched his display. Spade found that her blades felt cold but were made from a very fine steel and seemed to be well crafted. Most would think that she stole them but one could tell they were her own as the letters EV were engraved into the base of the blades just before they met their hilts.

As he held her blades and played with them she kept her gaze on his own, he was right in a way and she wasn't going to tell him he wasn't, "I mean... I suppose I'm as deadly as a poison, in more ways than one." She shrugged looking to the blade now when he offered it back to her, now was her chance if she was going to do anything. After a few long moments she lightly took the hilt of her blade while her gaze met his own, soon enough she gently took it from him to return it to it's holster on her belt.

"Then I suppose you're stuck with me Spade, just as I am stuck with you. Why not a little spar when you feel curious enough to learn my skills, eh?" She had a playful tone in her voice, as those ice blue and white flecked hues offered him a look that said she was not only a little dangerous but quite fun in more ways than one. She was quite the little vixen.

Spade noticed her prolonged reluctance. When she took the blade, he wrapped his fingers around her wrist, and used his other hand to cup her chin again. "Good choice." He whispered huskily. When he pulled away, he took the fish off the clamps and threw them into the bucket. Then, he put the other rabbit on the clamps and had it cook like the other one did.

A low chuckle escaped him with a quick nod. "When I see you're fit enough to fight, then we will." He muttered moving towards the tent to open up a weaved basket container to pull out some berries and nuts that were both mixed together. Placing them into a bowl with another underneath. Turning around to look at over her, he looked over her figure from the side and saw she was in fact toned. But due to her leathers and cloak, he was barely able to see, but he imagined.

Taking the bowl, he took the other from underneath and placed the nuts and fruits into the other bowl so it was evenly distributed. Lowering himself into another crouch, he placed both bowls down and turned the rod again. "Well little lady, let's see who comes out of this alive then hmm." He uttered looking up at her with a smug look on his face.

Elixandria now had shown some interest, not only had he touched her once but now he had touched her twice after seeing her face. This was something she however was used to for she knew that even though she was different she was beautiful. As he released her she simply watched his movements before moving to walk behind him, her left hand lightly trailing across his shoulders. Each step she took was smooth before she simply stood across the fire from him as he prepared their meal.

He watched as she walked behind him and gently touched his shoulders. He followed her fingertips as best he could, glancing from the right and then towards the left as she walked. While she walked around the fire and then stopped to stand adjacent to him. He looked at her through his lashes again with his mouth gently parted open.

His tongue moved to slide across his lower lip with a grin curling upwards. His hands moved down towards a bowl and placed a rabbit and a fish lined beside the other. Handing it over to her, he craned his head towards the right and chuckled. "Eat... and I'll spar with you when I say you're ready. You want me to train you after all."

Elix kept her gaze on him as a smirk now played back on her lips, when she was offered food however she offered him a nod, reaching for it. "I wont argue with a meal... and I wouldn't say I want you to train me... but I wouldn't mind learning a few new tricks." She let out a light laugh before looking to the bowl. The food smelled good however she didn't touch it just yet as he spoke to her again.

"We'll see little lady, we'll see." He turned the rod where the rabbit cooked. Though, when he did turn it, it was much more cooked than any other side. Though, he didn't mind that the rabbit was cooked more, he didn't want it to be burned to charcoal. Turning to look at his horse, he noticed how his hooves were digging into the ground again. Sighing, he turned his attention back to her and the fire just in time to notice Elix looking at him with a frown.

"If you want the one that didn't get a little over done you can have it. I'll settle for a little over done rabbit since you are treating me to a meal." ��Her gaze went from the cooking rabbit then to look to his now, something about those eyes of his said that they really weren't that different but she didn't know in what way.

He then chuckled and shook his head. "Don't worry about it, eat. I don't mind eating a little over done meat, gives more of a crunch." He brought up the fish in the other bowl and took a bite and gave her a wink. When he was done eating he continued, "In the early mornings I scout around, so don't be concerned if I'm not here. My horse will still be around, so will the equipment here. I'll be back in no time to make breakfast."

She nodded to him as she finally moved to take a bite of the rabbit that he had cooked for her, speaking before doing so, "As long as nothing of mine is missing and I don't wake up to blood everywhere I believe I will be fine." She smirked just before placing the piece of meat into her mouth. It was good, savory even as she couldn't hide the satisfied smile on her lips. She hadn't eaten for days and something like this just tasted fantastic as the flavor hit her taste buds.

Spade glanced up at her quickly and lowered his gaze. "If it comes to that... don't freak out when you see a large wolf." He whispered which caused Elix to stop eating for a moment as he mentioned the wolf, her brow perking slightly before she shrugged and just continued to eat as he continued to speak.

"I have some water covered by leaves in a hole just over there if you want to grab it. It helps keep the water cool. So, if you ever find yourself in a situation when you're outside. You'll at least know how to keep your water cold and refreshed. But, before you put it in your jug, make sure you boil it." He pointed towards his right with his thumb that was at a tree. On the ground was branches of thick leaves and on the bottom layer, two branches of spruce leaves that kept it cool.

The jug was a porcelain jug with a tight closed cover to keep out any insects, dirt and all things alike that could be found out in the wild. "Nothing of yours will be missing, don't worry. So, don't freak out if you see a wolf running around killing people, and I'll keep the blood to a minimum if someone comes by."

“I take it you know some sort of transformation magics then, interesting.." She glanced to where he kept the water, thinking for a moment as she didn't want to say anything just yet. It was clear she had something to say but instead she chose not to as she just enjoyed the meal he had prepared. Thoughts dancing around in that head of hers like a bad habit. Once she had finished eating she simply set down the bowl in front of her. Her hands coming up to clasp under her chin with her elbows on her knees as she simply rested there, staring at him with those ice blue hues.

He chuckled lightly taking a dried strawberry from the bowl and ate it. "I have wolf pets." He lied skillfully. Lulling his head towards the right, he reached down to place another into his mouth. Chewing on the dried fruit, he reached over for the rabbit and took it down from its clamps and threw it in the bowl. Lashes swept down towards the fire with a slight parting of his lips.

"I suppose we all have our secrets... and considering you trust me enough with yours I suppose I'll share the fact that getting cold isn't a problem for me. So as long as I'm around you don't have to worry about warm water or over heating..." She simply smiled before it faded when her gaze drifted to look at the fire now. Those thoughts once again swimming around in her head, she really did have a bad habit of thinking to much and that was clear.

His ears perked as he listened in on her little secret. Though it was already obvious considering the light blue runes that covered her cheeks. Chuckling to himself, he looked up at her through his lashes. "I'll let you in on a little secret love. I don't have to worry about over-heating, my body has a hard time producing heat. I offered my tent because it does little to keep me warm. Laying outside... and on the ground beside the fire does more to keep me warm than that."

Spade's lips curled upwards as he reached over to press his fingers on the back of her palm. Despite being near the fire, his fingers were cold but Elix’s were colder. He held no magic in his veins other than the the shadows void that coursed through his veins through manipulation. "Do you want anymore little lady?" To this she shook her head.

"I believe I'm fine but thank you." Elix watched him eat for a moment, before her gaze would then look to the trees as she seemed to be looking for the hawk that he had earlier. "So... what exactly are you then? Like what do you skill in besides blades and leathers... I know you said gambling and killing just... seems to me that you have a lot going on." She smirked tearing her gaze from the trees to look at him now.

She pondered for a moment before she took a stand to walk away, pacing now in the dark evening sky. He couldn't help but chuckle softly as she pulled away from his touch. He didn't really notice that her hand was cold since he was mainly focused on his own coldness. "Shadow manipulator... to put it short." Spade replied watching as she moved to stand up. He took the bowl of dried fruits, nuts and placed his own food in. He didn't think much of it when she went into the woods.

Sitting there by himself, he glanced up at the hawk who gazed down at him. Narrowing his slits, he cocked his head towards the left and watched as the hawk swooped down. Holding up his fish, he knew that the large bird would swoop right in to grab the cooked meat. "Found her." He muttered taking the rabbit and biting into it now as he wished to eat just as his hawk did.

The sun had just started to set as Elix seemed to sway there, a question lightly flowing from her lips, "So... out here all alone, cold at night even inside of a tent or by a fire... sounds like you need yourself a lady friend. Unless you already have one back where we are going?" She looked back at him as those dark strands of hair fell into her face for a moment before drifting back to the sides of her face.

'Lady friend...' He mused, turning to look at her. The grease coming from the rabbit slowly dripped down his fingers. Placing the meat back into the bowl, he licked at his fingers and looked back over to her. "Are you suggesting on sharing your bed with me little lady? If you're wondering, I don't have anyone back at that town. A few fuck girls, but not a girl I'd call my own." Sighing, Spade glanced down at his food and then back to her. "Why do you ask? Do you have someone back where you're from?"

She nodded to his words as she slowly walked around in the dark towards her horse, walking over to pet him once again. The horse lifted his head quickly as she approached almost as if he was spooked but then he would settle down to eat the grass once again as she touched him, that cloak of hers still draping down her back for now.

Soon enough Elix had moved to remove her cloak, draping it over the saddle as she pet the stallion, speaking with an amused smirk on her lips, "Now I wouldn't suggest that... I do enjoy my space but if you would be warmer I suppose I could be nice as long as you promise me that I won't have to worry about anything unwanted happening."

She was grinning now as she couldn't help but laugh at his last question, her head turning to look back at him now so he could see that she was grinning in the dark, "No.. never have and probably never will, most people don't like to get close to someone like me granted I have shared a bed with someone more than once." She winked at him before turning to return her attention to her steed.

Spade watched her with the back of his nails touching his lips. His head cocked towards the right as he took a mental note of her figure. Amusement struck him as she laughed at his question. "Not a girl for commitment are you?" He asked curiously picking up the rabbit meat again and pulled it from its bone. Getting a piece off he placed it in his mouth and looked back at her.

"So they'd bed you... but they won't hold you?" He asked cockily. "Where's the fun in that?" He asked placing another piece of meat in his mouth and chewing it slowly. "You can't go for round two if you get up and leave." A grin curled over his lips as he watched her ever so curiously.

"Or is it because a man... hasn't been able to please you fully?" Spade asked with a bellowing growl at his last word. He reached down for a piece of meat and placed it in his mouth again. "Or have they not found what you like for you to allow them to spend another night in your bed?"

Elix couldn't help the grin that was on her face as she continued to just pet her steed and not look at him, that dark hair of hers cascading down to her lower back. If she would of had it down it would of easily just licked at her rear. She had a figure that was built but sexy, even toned. Most men would sell their souls for a girl like her but she wasn't the typical female and that much was clear.

"More or less I would be one for commitment if someone could please me.. you wouldn't be the first random stranger I had this conversation with either and you probably wont be the last." She shrugged her shoulders as she ran her fingers through the horses mane now when she continued, "And no I haven't... all the men I have had are boring... terrible even. It's funny because most of your type acts as if they are amazing but they end up being a huge disappointment."

Spade chuckled shaking his head. "Too focused on their orgasm's aren't they?" He replied standing up from his crouching position and moved towards her. His hands moved across the horses back. It was smooth, some parts a bit ridden in and scabbed. Sighing, he glanced over at her shaking his head. "You're pushing him too much, the saddle is digging into his back."

Annoyed, he turned around and went towards his tent to pull something out. "Here, put this on underneath the saddle, it'll help keep it from running against the scab." With a roll of her eyes she took what he offered her, setting it on the ground as she moved to unhook the clasps on the saddle so that she could pull it off.

"It wasn't by choice I promise you..." She said lightly with her gaze focused on the steed as she did just as he told her to. She knew that it would help him and that's clearly what she wanted to do.

Spade turned back towards the fire to finish off his meal. He thought back to what she said about the men not being the last or her first. "I'm feeling a bit conflicted here... and a bit challenged." He whispered looking up at her through his lashes again. A low chuckle escaped him. "Hrm... I supposed we'll see." He uttered to himself with a devilish smirk curled on his lips.

Elixandria didn't hear him mutter as she put the saddle back on the stallions back over the blanket that Spade had given her. She looked over at him through her hair, watching him with those ice cold eyes. "You're interesting.." She quietly mused to herself before looking back to the steed talking to the horse as she brushed her hand through his mane once again, "Yet a stranger... right boy?" She said the words lightly with a smile on her lips.

"You're right you know." She spoke up, "Most men are greedy that way.. so I simply don't waste time. I suppose you could say I want someone who takes what they want to keep, someone who won't give up lightly. I'm what you call far from easy and well I get bored with most." Her voice was light however it was like silk to the ears. Elix then moved to grab her cloak once again, returning it to her form but she left the hood down for now.

Spade moved to stand again and just as he was about to move he turned around and looked at her. "Hrm, did you say something?" he inquired before shrugging it off. Cleaning up his mess and saving his leftovers. He then turned to have his food placed into a smaller container. When she spoke a bit louder he turned and looked at her. He knew that tone of voice. The tone where woman would be seductive as she could. His lips curled upwards again hearing her. "Perhaps you need yourself a real man... one who's woman has no need to worry about if she'll ever find her own release."

Elix couldn't help but smirk at that, she simply continued to pet the horse for a moment before reaching into her saddlebags as she seemed to be checking on something. "Perhaps I do, who knows. Maybe I'll end up that lone wolf who just survives." She laughed a little bit as she closed up the saddlebag. Whatever it was that she was looking for it was still there apparently.

As she tightened the straps again on the saddle she spoke up again, "So is this what you do? Try to swoon beautiful cloaked women that you find on the road?" She was clearly teasing him now as she turned to face him. After a moment she just started to walk back over to the fire, moving to take a seat once again.

Spade scoffed with a slight roll of his eyes. He craned his head to look at her with his cheek resting on his shoulder. "I'm sure you'll find yourself a man who will keep taking that hood off so he can annoy you." He teased not knowing how true that fact would be in 150-ish years. As if on queue when he mentioned her hood she had reached up to pull it up and over her head, once again hiding her face as a smirk found it’s way back to her lips.

He turned to glance down to his hands that still felt greasy. Sighing, he was annoyed of living out in the wilderness. But just like her, he was avoiding cities where Jackson might find him. Curling his fingers into a fist, another sigh escaped him. Though, a slight neigh from his stallion grasped his attention. Looking up through his lashes, he slowly moved to lower his hand towards a blade strapped to his holster. He noticed a faint black figure walking through the woods.

Pretending he was going to go and give the horse a apple to eat. Spade then slowly slipped in between the horse and the tree to get a better look of what or who was passing through.

Elix had heard the rustling in the woods but didn't think much of it as she watched him stand up, her gaze following him before she looked to the flames. "If I do he will have to be one hell of a special man.. sorry but I like to keep my face hidden." Her voice calling to him in response to what he had said. Slowly she reached over to grab a stick off of the ground with her right hand. Moving to just poke at the fire as if she was trying to distract herself from her thoughts.

Spade nodded still moving towards the figure. He extended his leg out and brushed any sticks or any rustling leaves. But as he stepped there, there was a stick underneath a thin layer of soot and with his weight, the stick broke and caused a echo throughout the forest. Elix glanced over to his horse noticing he wasn't there and attempted to listen carefully for his steps walking into the woods however when the sound of a stick snapping echoed into her ears she turned her hooded figure to scan the treeline.

The dark figure turned towards the noise and quickly moved out of the way and out of sight. Spade ran in persuit in hopes to get the creature but it was far too quick and was able to swiftly get out of sight. Reaching the part where he saw it, he stood there looking down at his feet wondering what the footprints would've looked like but stopped himself from moving to much in hopes that he could get the prints in the early morning.

Looking through his lashes, he quickly glanced around wondering if it was still there but he heard nothing. Grumbling and with a sigh, he turned away and tried to follow his steps back to the camp. Reaching the clearing again, he looked over at Elixir and responded back to her. "Couldn't catch it.... whatever it was. I'll check to see what tracks are there in the morning." She was clearly looking for him before he emerged into her view which caused her to let out a questioning hum with a perked brow, curious as to what just happened.

Turning back to where he was, he gently shook his head and looked back at her. "Apologies m'lady, but I like to see your face rather than the hood." He quipped moving towards her and pulling her hood back down to annoy her just as she had opened her mouth to speak. In turn she glared at him and attempted to side step out of his way yet closer to him as she pulled it back up again, success. Spade craned his head back with a smile on his lips, "Damn it." he exclaimed lowering his gaze.

"Well to bad, I suppose you will suffer then." She smirked from under the hoods dark edge.

"Suffer I will then." he replied with a chuckle. Spade cocked his brow at her with how close they stood next to each other. "Well, little lady. If you're going to stand this close to me. Might as well do something about it." he teased with a upwards half cocked grin.

She lifted her gaze to look up at him as she was just smirking now. With a light motion she traced her right index finger along his jawline to his chin before moving her hand back to lightly tap him on the nose. "Boop." With that she would take a step back with her arms dropping to her sides, "You only wish don't you?" She then snickered at him before she turned to look back at the fire.

Spade watched her carefully. The light touch on his jawline was quiet a shock to him but not as much as her next actions as she pulled her hand back and then tapped him on the nose. He looked at her wide eyed and pursed his lips together to stifle his laughter. "Is that how it's going to be?" he finally asked.

Noticing she was distracted with the fire. He quickly hoisted her up in his arms and pinned her to a tree with both her wrists over her head. His face directly in front of hers. "If only..." he replied with a deep growl escaping his lips. For that quick moment he was the predator and she was his prey. But that demeanor changed quickly as a grin curled over his lips.

Elix was smirking for a little bit until she felt him grab her and move her in a way that would take her breath away. Her breath caught as those ice blue eyes started to give off a slight glow along with her runes, her gaze looking up at his hand that held her wrists before she let her on gaze meet his. Her breath now speeding up a bit as he possibly struck a nerve.

Spade now satisfied with this reaction moved and let her feet return to the earth as he let go of her wrists. The moment she was let free she couldn't help but smirk as she closed her eyes, those runes of hers fading against her skin. "Get yourself some sleep, love." he cooed lifting his hand to trail his finger over her jawline, down her neck and stopped just where the leather tunic began. Another chuckle escaped him as he pulled his hand back and turned around to put some more wood into the fire as well as more twigs.

As his finger trailed over her jawline then to her neck she simply stepped forward, her hood still resting over her head as she leaned against him, he would then find her own fingers walking up his side before she slid around him gracefully. As she moved around him she let her fingertips trail lightly over the leather on his stomach, just above his belt-line, all the way to his other hip before she withdrew her hand. "Careful with who you play with, dove... you might be nipping at something you can't handle." She was smirking back at him now, that hood still hiding her face.

Spade watched her fingers as they trailed from one side to the other. That cocked grin of his curled more as he was more amused. "Mmm, so you're not the type of girl to fall to a mans touch... interesting." he cooed turning to gently touch her chin again. Though he wanted to see how she'd react, he wanted to see those runes again to inspect them more. His other hand slinked around her waist and held her in place. His touch was light, feather-like as he trailed down towards her collarbone. "Id say the same to you love... I wouldn't want to break you the first night we've met... so let's do this the right way. We stop our tedious teases, call it a night and we'll see how we feel tomorrow?" he inquired with a low growl. Spade wanted nothing more than to make her his. But not at that moment. In time he would.

The woman had a smirk resting on her lips now as she tilted her head back just slightly as he touched her, his words licking at her ears like the deadly poisons she enjoyed to use. As he made his suggestion she simply let a low almost wicked laugh escape her throat as she pulled away from him, turning to sort of dance back away from his form with her arms out to each of her sides, "You're fun you know... I might just stick around if you are lucky." Her hood was up now just enough to show her face as she shot him a wink.

She was good at this game as she stopped a few feet away from him, her arms then dropping to cross over her chest as she grinned now, "And darling, I don't think you have any idea just how hard it is to get into my clothes.. you don't stand a chance, gambler." The last word rolled off of her tongue like a purr as she was toying with him now. It was clear she was amused as she then reached up to pull that hood of hers back down over her eyes and nose, leaving that grinning face to be all he could see.

"Sleep sounds lovely... besides I rather leave men like you hanging on a whim." She let her grin fall into a mischievous smirk. Unlike most women he might be able to tell that she was going to be the death of him if he would get to attached. He liked to play but so did she, that much was clear.

Spade watched her, his lips pursing together into a grin. He enjoyed her teasing nature. She wasn't the type of woman to submit to him so easily. But he was curious. Was she a girl who acted like she had her shit together like a dominating woman, or was she submissive underneath all that exterior. It would take longer for him to find out either one.

Chuckling he quirked his brow as he moved his hand in a way to show her the way towards the tent like a gentleman would. Turning back around he placed some more twigs into the fire and stood up again. "Don't worry love, if you're wondering. I'm not hung up on your advances. It'll take much more than that. We'll see about that though. Just how quick you would be to take your clothes off for me... get yourself to bed before I make you regret it." he uttered with a wink to follow.

Elixandria let out a soft laugh as she simply moved toward the tent, "Fine, fine. I was planning on it anyway.." She was grinning a bit as she just slipped into the tent, before she poked her head out with her non-hooded gaze on him now, "I don't believe we will see about that, considering you will never have that pleasure." She offered him a light smile now and a small wave as she just went back into the tent once again, "Goodnight, boy."

Spade watched as she moved towards the tent. Though whenever she spoke he'd chuckle shaking his head. "Goodnight.... girl." he replied turning to sit more comfortably at the fire to keep watch for the night. His ears flicked hearing her move around in the tent. Glancing off towards the fire listening for anything else that could of been going on in the woods around them.

Inside of the tent Elix had already begun removing her leather gloves, pulling them off one by one a she listened for any more movement outside of the tent. After the gloves she moved to unhook that belt of hers setting it on top of her cloak with a light clicking noise of blades and glass. Oddly enough this woman removed everything but her leather jerkin and pants, keeping what runes and tattoos she had hidden under the leather. She looked about the tent now observing what she what she would find however the only things noticable would be the bedroll, an extra blanket, and some other camping supplies.

Finding nothing of interest for now Elixandria moved to her belt that she had thrown, she then reached into the neckline of her leathers to pull out what was clearly a necklace, something was on it that was much like a gemstone of sorts. She eyed it for a moment before pulling it off of her neck to set into one of her pouches. Her runes glowed now lightly against her skin for a few moments until she closed her eyes. After a deep inhale and an exhale the runes faded once again.

Exhaustion was clearly coming over her as she moved to lay on the bedroll, still wearing her leather jerkin and pants as she attempted to fall asleep, however for her sleep was ignoring her will. She shifted to turn to her left side, then to her right. Shifting once at least every five minutes before finally drifting off into a very light sleep an hour later.

Spade had his own problems falling asleep with his insomnia getting the best of him he moved to lay down to pretend he was asleep. Throughout the night he heard her toss and turn and then finally silence until the soft whimpering in her sleep. Turning his head slightly. He decided not to think anything of it since it wasn't his place. Closing his eyes, a soft sigh escaped him as he was finally able to sleep somewhere in between the night.

To be continued..

@kanekuran

#⚔ a ғιgυre loѕт ιn тιмe { spade }#elixandria #flashback series #camp #forest #the story of elixandria vulpini #spade #harmless flirting #dangerous game #figure

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wispyatomica · 7 years

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The Rabbit, The Rat, and the Hog (Chapter 6) - “Let’s build!”

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Jamison was startled awake by a searing pain in his left side. He cursed under his breath as he slowly sat up off the cold flat table, moving his mechanical arm to his bandaged side. He examined the bandages for a moment, intricate metal fingers tracing the blood stained fabric before his gaze shifted around him. He recognized the walls around him, he was back at his and Roadhog’s hideout hidden deep within the wasteland of Australia. “Hooley dooley, That fuckin’ hurts.” He commented to himself as he slipped his legs off of the table, moving to the door slowly and stepping out into the open factory floor.

Roadhog was set up in a room on the opposite end of the building, one hidden just underneath the staircase that led to the catwalk. He could tell by the blinding light shining in from the western windows that the sun was about to set on another day in the outback. Holding his prosthetic limb against his injury, he poked his head into the room where Roadhog was working on his scrap gun.

“Thanks fer patchin’ me up, mate.”

“Wouldn’t have had to if you had listened.”

“Well excuuuuse me for wanting more excitement out of my life!” Junkrat responded with a giggle as he stepped inside of the room, leaning against one of the walls as he watched Roadhog work for a few more moments before speaking up again.

“How did we get out of there?” He inquired, his mind struggling to recall the exact series of events of their escape beyond that mecha pilot girl sending that cocky junker pilot flying.

“Your friend provided a distraction.”

“Friend? Whaddya mean friend? Yer the only one I’ve got Roadie.”

Roadhog pointed a hand upwards, lifting his head from the work on his gun and pointing at the ceiling. “That girl killed her own mech to save your ass.”

Junkrat tilted his head in confusion for a moment, glancing in the direction of the iron wrought staircase that was just barely visible from the doorway, and it was then that he recalled the entire scenario. He rewinded the memory in his head of when D.Va used her MEKA’s self destruct protocol and sent a decent chunk of Junkertown to rubble. He could see her once more emerging from the debri she used as a shield, and in the aftermath of that explosion, she was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. A grin spread across his lips as he looked back to Roadhog, pulled from his own thoughts.

“Y’mean that sheila’s here?”

“Yup.”

“...She’s alive?”

“Yup.”

“...You’d never bring anybody here, mate. Why did ya bring her? Don’t get me wrong, that explosion was quite a sight, but that mech she was usin’ looked like somethin’ from the pocket of a suit in Sydney. She might not be trustworthy.”

Roadhog shrugged his shoulders in response, facing down Jamison once more as the smaller lankier male adjusted himself on his peg leg. “She was going to die there, and she saved your life, Jamison. You owe her a thanks.”

Junkrat’s expression dulled even further, poking out his lips towards Roadhog in a pouting manner, a bushy blonde eyebrow raising as he sighed heavily, kicking himself off the wall of the room. “Alright fine, but you’ll neva hear me say it again!” Roadhog chuckled to himself as Junkrat exited the room, returning to his delicate work on the scrap gun as Junkrat scaled the staircase to the catwalk.

Hana Song was still completely knocked out from exhaustion. Being given a chance to relax and collect herself with a good rest was never more welcomed, even if the futon she was sleeping on wasn’t the most comfortable in the world. Nevertheless, she slept soundly the entire afternoon. The MEKA unit comm set she had resting on her head the whole time was lazily falling off the edge of the mattress, her body half under and half out of a large blanket. Her shoulder length brown hair was a complete mess; covered in dust, dirt, and debri from the excitement the night before, and her exposed face was no different. Soot and dirt were pooled on her forehead and cheeks, even a small sliver of dried blood rested on her forehead. Having rolled over onto her stomach, she unconsciously grabbed a hold of one of the nearby pachimari plushes, the toy buried in her neck as she slept peacefully.

Junkrat poked his head in each of the different rooms on the catwalk, until discovering that she was in their loot room. He saw her delicate form curled on the mattress, covered in a blanket and holding onto one of Roadhog’s prized pachimari toys. Whatever obsession Mako had with those toys, Junkrat would never know or understand. He carefully and quietly snuck into the room to get a closer look at the girl before him.

She was completely different from any of the females that Junkrat ever saw or encountered in the Outback. Her skin was very light colored, not tanned and her frame was so small and delicate it was like she had been starved, not too different from his own physique. Though her eyes were closed, he could see that they were much thinner and smaller, she was probably not from Australia based on her appearance, yet her clothing spoke otherwise. The maintenance uniform she wore looked eerily similar to the clothes that most junkers wore, which probably a good thing for her, it would help her blend in. Jamison focused on her face for a few moments, noting a large soot and dirt mark on her cheek, he chuckled slightly before noticing something odd: her breathing.

Even though she was lying down, Junkrat could easily discern that she was struggling to breathe, as her back would rise and fall eerily slow compared to his own. He tapped a mechanical finger against his chin, watching her for another quick moment, before he wanted to make sure that she wasn’t dying. Who knows, maybe Roadhog decided to poison her. He carefully clasped his right arm against her shoulder, shaking her slightly, “Oi, wake up sheila.”

The movement alone didn’t seem to be enough to wake her though, and as a few moments passed he suddenly shook her very harshly, worried by the fact that she wasn’t awakening quickly. Hana remained unconscious for a few more moments, before she was startled out of her sleep by the harsh shaking motions. She threw herself up from the bed as Junkrat pulled his arms back defensively from her body. She began to breathe and pant heavily for a few moments, before harsh coughing left her throat. She doubled over for a moment, coughing into her non injured arm until her coughing subsided and she saw who was in the room with her.

Her first reaction was to scoot backwards and away from him, her mind having fully awakened itself now and recalling that she was accompanying two international criminals in their own base hideout. Junkrat tilted his head, his amber colored eyes rising up and down her form as she backed away even further from him.

“Woah woah, sheila. Easy. I ain’t gonna hurt ya.”

Hana kept her distance from Junkrat despite his words and attempt to calm her down, she gave him a skeptical look, finally having a good close up look at the criminal mastermind. His body was abnormally tall, even hunched over in his current position she could tell that he had at least a foot on her own height. The skull tattoo ridden right arm sported an incredible, fully functioning prosthetic forearm, no doubt made with precision and care. D.Va’s eyes traced from his prosthetic limb to his shirtless torso, exposing his permadirt ridden body and surprisingly toned abdomen. When her eyes caught sight of the bandaged wound on his side, she eased slightly, returning her gaze to his haunting, yet captivating amber eyes.

“There ya go, now I suppose I owe ya a thanks fer savin’ me life back there.”

“You’re thanking me?” Hana returned, tilting her head as she adjusted herself more comfortably on her knees, her heart rate slowing from the rather sudden start she had moments earlier.

“Well mostly Roadie made me do it.”

“Oh. Well...You’re welcome.” Han responded, offering Junkrat as genuine a smile as she could, despite how strangely awkward she felt in this situation. It was when Junkrat responded by waving an arm and slouching backwards, that she felt a little bit more comfortable, allowing the tension in her shoulders and back to release.

“I gotta know sheila-”

“My name’s not Sheila.”

“What’re you spittin’? ‘Course it ain’t yer name! Sheila’s what we Aussies use as slang for women.”

“Oh.” How was she not surprised.

“I guess I outta know yer real name though, since you’ll be hangin’ with me and Roadie for awhile.”

“What do you mean awhile? Am I...a prisoner or something?”

“Oh no not in the least, girlie. With the heat of everything that happened back in town, it’d be best ta lay low for a few days before tryin’ to make a getaway. ‘Sides, we’re in the middle of the Outback a thousand miles from anywhere, you won’t be gettin’ very far on two feet when the sun’s high in the sky and cookin’ ya like a steak.”

Hana gritted her teeth for a moment, as much as she didn’t like it Junkrat had a valid point. She knew how far away she was from Sydney and trying to make that four hour journey by MEKA on foot would surely end in her demise. Her return to the city would probably not be welcomed by anybody at all either, as there was probably no doubt a search party looking for her where abouts by now from the Korean military. She sighed heavily, running a hand through her hair as Junkrat beamed an unusually friendly grin to her.

“Well whadd’ya say? What’s yer name?”

“ D.Va. You can call me D.Va.”

“Well D.Va it is a pleasure to meet ya, my name’s Junkrat and my tubby friend is Roadhog. As far as I know, I’m the only one who gets to call him Roadie and live.”

Hana chuckled softly as she adjusted herself once again in her sitting position, looking around the room for a moment and taking in again just how much stolen stuff she was surrounded by. “What is this place anyways? I’ve never seen a factory like this before.”

“Well it's obvious you’re not from the Outback then, these factories used to be all over the place, before those omnic blokes ruined everything. When the omnium exploded, everythin’ here went to shit. This place was one of the last few left standing, and once Roadie and I found it we knew we’d have a good place to call home, on our home turf.”

Hana nodded her head softly as Junkrat got up from his sitting position, practically jumping to his peg leg and easily walking out of the room, motioning for her to follow him. She hesitated for a moment. Well, there’s nothing better to do while the heat dies down, might as well entertain him.

“This whole building is our home and we use all of the scrap and spare metal to build things as we please.” Junkrat started rambling on about the various engine and robotic parts scattered around the room, it was similar to the mission briefings she would get in the good old days of her early Korean military years, she often slept through them or dazed off into her own world. If there was one thing that Hana could tell from Junkrat’s speech though, even if she hardly remembered anything that he said, it was that he was no doubt enthusiastic about everything as he was always laughing crazily or over exaggerating his statements.

“Oi, speakin’ of crimes from around the world; I don’t recognize yer accent. Where are you from?”

“I’m from South Korea.”

“What in the world is that?”

“It’s a country in Asia, just west to the cost of Japan.”

The description was clearly going over his head, to which she shook her head, “Never mind, don’t worry about it.” “Heh, whatever you say Dee-va. C’mon, let’s go see what Roadie’s got planned for cookin’ tonight.”

The conversation wasn’t forced or extremely awkward, but the whole situation that Hana had found herself in was making her sick to her stomach. She knew mentally that she hadn’t eaten since midnight the night before, and no doubt her body was starving and yet she had no physical appetite. Nonetheless, she followed Junkrat as he hobbled down the iron wrought stairs, moving slightly slower than Junkrat. Despite the fairly severe injury to his left side, he still firmly planted his regular hand on the railing, flipping his body off of the side instead of walking down and around like any normal human would. Something about his eccentricity was very amusing to Hana, and she laughed as she followed Junkrat into the room where Roadhog was finishing up his work on his scrap gun, setting it neatly on a hanging rack on the wall.

“Roadie, meet D.Va!” Junkrat exclaimed, presenting both of his hands with open palms in a very overly dramatic pose, hunched over as if he was announcing her presence to the very world itself. Hana very cautiously stepped into the room, noticing Junkrat’s strange posture and nervously waving her injured arm to Roadhog. “Hi.” “Hey.” He responded in the deep voice she recalled from the night before. He waited a moment for Junkrat to move over and hop into a sitting position on a nearby desk to speak again. “How is your arm?”

“It’s doing better, I’ll make it through.” She responded with a soft, authentic smile, to which Roadhog grunted once more, before their loud companion once again bellowed out in his maniacal voice. “Not to interrupt, but I’m starved! Whadd’we got ta eat Roadie?”

Roadhog remained silent as Junkrat questioned what they would be eating for dinner that night. She could swear that if his pig mask could show emotion, it would be showing the most unamused expression to the lankier junker. The former motioned his hand as he moved towards D.Va, who quickly stepped out of his way. Junkrat was the first to barrel past D.Va, eagerly following Roadhog into the open factory floor, with Hana following slowly behind. She felt a slight pain in her chest, perhaps it was from being scared awake earlier, and tried to ignore it as she watched Roadhog move into room where they had bandaged Jamison earlier. She watched as Roadhog opened a cabinet in the room, exposing blank silver cans which were then tossed one to each individual. “Beans, gotta get more food soon, ‘Rat.” “You got it mate, we’ll go out tomorrow evenin’ once me side is all healed up.”

Hana caught her can of beans with her good arm, noticing that there was an easy open pop top. She opened the can and tilted her head, she was not all that familiar with canned beans, as it wasn’t part of her normal diet in Korea, but nonetheless she could feel the hunger start to slowly rise in her stomach, it would have to suffice. She looked around for a moment as Junkrat hopped onto the table he had woken up from and opened his can, pulling a utensil from out of practically nowhere and going to town on his dinner. She tilted her head slightly, watching Jamison devour the meal before Roadhog caught her attention by gently nudging her arm. She glanced over and was met with a spoon being offered to her, to which she thanked him and began to eat her own food. The texture of the beans was different, smooth but she did recognize the distinguishable taste of pork, it made the beans a bit easier for her to eat.

The western sunset on the Australian horizon shined it’s brilliant orange light into the open building, illuminating the factory floor in a strangely beautiful light. Once she had finished her food, she tossed the can where the two junkers had tossed theirs and placed her spoon on a nearby box, hoping that it would be there should they eat again. She stretched her arms over her head slightly as Junkrat and Roadhog moved past her and exited back out into the spacious floor. She followed behind soon after, watching as Roadhog scaled the iron wrought stairs and ascend to the room which she had rested in earlier. “Have a nice rest Roadie, I’ll take first watch with D.Va.”

“Eh? First watch?”

“Yeah, we might be hidden by that rock out there, but given we’re criminals and nobody ‘round here quite likes either of us, we still have watch shifts.”

“Oh, I see.”

“C’mon, I’ll show ya some of my work!” Junkrat beamed proudly, motioning for Hana to follow him over to a crowded work desk. The desk was covered in crinkled papers, scrap metal parts, and various tools. The closer she got to the table, the more quickly she realized that they were intricate blueprints for various bombs, mines, and even some guns. She felt her jaw drop slightly as she looked over the various papers, picking one of the visibly older and crinkled ones up and examining it, while Junkrat plopped on a tall stool and began to work on the creation at the center of his table.

“You’ve made all of these?”

“Well most of ‘em. Some were just ideas, that was one of my first pipe bombs that you’re holdin’!”

“Wow, this is really cool.” Hana commented as she moved a little closer to Jamison, watching as he delicately worked on a flat-bottomed circular device. “What are you working on?”

“Well this is one of me favorites, D.Va! It’s a mine that I use to help me get around.”

“Oh wow, but isn’t that dangerous?”

“Who ever said that I was careful?”

Hana laughed in response to that, pointing at his side. “Yeah, that’s kinda obvious.” She watched as he worked so carefully on the device, it was shocking to her. She had hardly seen him sit still for that long of a period of time, she could tell that he was one to pride in his creations. She took a minute to think as the sharp pains came back to her chest, causing her to cough a few times away from Junkrat. She had noticed that the air was thicker, no doubt thanks to the radiation disaster years prior, that was probably the cause of her cough. With time she figured that she’d adjust, and it was as she was thinking about time that something caught her attention.

“Hey, wait a minute. Do you remember my mech suit?”

“Well o’ course, sheila! That was quite a spectacular clunker.” Junkrat responded as he finished placing the final wire to his concussion mine, nodding his head in approval and setting it off to the corner of his desk, turning his ember ridden head of hair to the smaller girl.

“What if...we build another one for me?”

“Build you a new mech?”

“Yeah, I mean I’m not really going to have much to do while the heat dies down on us. Besides, when we part ways, you won’t have to take me anywhere.”

Junkrat paused for a moment, tilting his head and scratching his chin as he contemplated her idea. It could prove fairly entertaining, and he could also learn how she managed to create that beautiful explosion. “Alright, let’s build a mech!”

“Yes! Thank you Junkrat!” Hana cheered eagerly, pumping a fist in the air. If her years in the Korean military had given her anything, it was a near eidetic memory of the interior skeleton and exterior shell of the MEKA units. She searched around Junkrat’s desk for a blank piece of paper, which she quickly found. She began to look for a pencil or something to draw with, when Jamison offered her one. She smiled softly to him, taking the pencil from his hand and slightly bowing her head.

“Heh, that’s the third time you’ve done that, sheila. Dunno what it means but it’s weird lookin’.”

“Oh, it’s a sign of respect in my culture, it’s second nature to do it.”

Junkrat raised a slightly flaming eyebrow, making an inquisitive noise before bowing his head to her in an obnoxious fashion, which caused her to laugh heartily. “Now that looks weird!” She responded through laughs, which Junkrat dismissed with a wave of his hand.

“Get ta work on yer mech, girlie. Yer crowdin’ my work space.” D.Va couldn’t be all that surprised by his sudden change in attitude, she was after all dealing with an unpredictable criminal. She looked down to the ground, gently pulling the ponytail holder from her hair and letting her brown locks drape freely around her shoulders as she exited his work station area. She moved to one of the conveyer belts in the open room, moving a large box over towards the flat surface and sitting on it cross legged. She quickly began to sketch the skeletal structure of the MEKA units as best as she could from memory. Things are looking up. I finally have a way to get out of this forsaken wasteland and back to civilization.

#The Rabbit The Rat and The Hog #D.VaRat #D.Rat #D.Va #Junkrat #Roadhog #Fanfiction #dvarat #junkbunny #junksong

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ecotone99 · 4 years

Text

[RF] A world beneath your own

Do you ever feel like you're missing out? Like everyone else knows something you don't?

Maybe you're walking down the street and you see two people laughing and time slows down as you pass them, and they look at you like you're a freak. Or maybe you're driving down to Aldi to get the weekly shop, and you glance out of your driver's window and see a young couple holding hands - a girl you might have fallen in love with. Or you spy a family through a living room window watching television, or at the dinner table joking and discussing.

And sometimes you find yourself in this strange, isolated world full of tall pine trees with their middles illuminated by cutting street lamps. And nothing feels real. And everything speaks the language of concealed danger, and the shadows claw through the sunlit days like demons waiting to be set free. Of anger. Of hatred. Of revenge.

That is the world I live in.

I never go on Reddit, or online to speak. I think it's all just a way of escaping. It's not real. It's all just a sick fantasy world; lost people running away from the dark and the cold outside, pretending the four walls they're currently confined to isn't a prison. Denying the fact that they're a wild animal caught in a trap.

If you get past the gloss and the glass and posters of people smiling and all the sparkly high heels, what you're left with is the mud and the soil. The concrete and the grey and the dog shit.

I make myself laugh.

The thing is, God is dead. Nietzsche said it, and now it's all true. There is no meaning. Nothing matters. It's all sex and money, and the rest is just a distraction. Even though, there are some of us who feel something else. That power matters. Dominance. Control. I am one of those select few.

You may have seen me walking around somewhere in the middle of the night once. You may see me buy a sandwich from Tesco on a Friday night, or on Tuesday getting something else to eat. Maybe I'll eat a pizza, or cook myself a lasagne. I'm a bad cook though.

Sometimes I make myself laugh.

It's difficult to snap yourself out of a delusion. We all have them. Sometimes it's hope: I will be happy one day. Someone will come. Someone will see me in pain. Someone will love me. Daddy will come home. Mummy won't drink anymore. And sometimes it's a cynical view to distract you from your will to power. Whatever it is, it is all a delusion, a distraction from raw reality; raw truth.

Raw truth isn't nice. It's actually pretty ugly. See what I did there?

People prefer to be comfortable, and I understand that, but as I say, some of us want something more. Some of us don't want to watch Netflix and go on Reddit and be distracted. Some of us want to seek the truth no matter what the cost. Even if it means death, and I admit, that is scary for anyone. Death is the unknown. The world beyond.

I knew a girl once in my secondary school who committed suicide. I was in love with her. We used to look at each other in the hallways and in class. I was obsessed, and I cried for weeks because I was too shy to talk to her. It was painful. Then I moved away and two years later I found out over Facebook that she had taken her own life - her hair mysteriously dyed an out-of-place orange. She hung herself using a belt and a door knob. I'm still uncertain how people do that. What was she thinking? Where did her mind go?

Sometimes I crack myself up.

Freud was clever. He wanted to seek the truth. That's why he invented his theories. The unconscious. That sneaky clandestine aspect of the brain. All the things we do in dreams. The jealousy and the huge monsters and the infinite corridors. The tornados and the massive tsunamis and the destruction and the chaos. The terrifying potential lies dormant behind the eyes of consciousness, festering away like rotten fruit, attracting flies, creating bad smells. Polluting the world.

It's a fucking strange world we live in today. Such a lonely world.

I told myself when I was 19 that I had to murder someone. A vision of me appeared beside my bed - a vision of the man I knew I could be; my self-actualised manifestation. He told me that I was weak. That I was succumbing to depression and nihilism. He told me what I needed to hear, but didn't want to acknowledge. I needed to kill someone in order to feel in control of my life again. And not just anyone.

The thing is, about murder, it's a lot less glamorous in real life. Murderers aren't particularly evil people or smart people or even sneaky people. Anyone can go out in the dead of night and stab a homeless person, or a prostitute, or shoot a jihad dead in the dusty plains with a rifle. They're easy targets. That's not how you achieve control and self-actualise.

Some of the most notorious serial killers like Jeffrey Dahmer and Ted Bundy, they murdered out of a sexual fascination. It was also about power, but polluted with delinquency and sexual degeneracy. Not pure. Not righteous.

I don't necessarily have an interest in being righteous, but the idea of killing for sex or of killing an easy target doesn't excite me. I feel like killing for justice, for raw truth, for ultimate power over someone else too weak to seek the truth, that is the pinnacle of masculine achievement. That is how you reach the divine state of being. Some call it enlightenment. It's different for everyone.

The mind is like an onion, and reality is just an image of what you project based on the level you happen to be on. Once you've peeled away all the layers, all you're left with is black. You become blind. You lose all your senses except smell. You smell everything; the sweat, the shit, the snot, the rain, the lights, the darkness, the kitchen, the eyeballs, the skeletons.

People lose their personalities and become primates. They lose their faces. Their skin melts away along with their identities. They then become objects - physical manifestations of matter that interact with other bits of matter. Almost as if they could have been splurged out by some white matter gloop machine and painted by a Warhammer nerd. Porcelain dolls. Rag dolls.

Sometimes I look in the mirror and laugh at my handsome face as it contorts into something that manages to scare me.

Before I decided to kill someone, I used to steal, and vandalise buildings. I'd wake up at 2AM and instantly jump out of bed with my pre-assembled rucksack equipped with a spare set of clothes and big rocks. Then I'd take the pitch black footpath to the town and, with my hood down, hurl the rocks at WHSmiths, McDonald's, Wilko's. And then I'd leave a message to the police: "I am the Zodiac... You will decode this message if you wish to find me... If you do not post the details to your Facebook page, I will strike again... And do something different."

You may have seen me before. Me and you might have shuffled past each other on a crowded train once, or maybe I asked you where a specific item was in a supermarket three years ago, or maybe you taught me at school, or maybe I am the friend of a friend of a cousin that you've never heard of. And maybe you have some connection to me or my victim. Part of you wants to reach me and talk to me. Part of you is as lonely as I am.

When you drop a plate and it smashes on the floor, you feel defeated. But what if the plate drops you on the floor and feels defeated, and you smash into 50 ceramic chunks? What if my mind is broken? It's not. Sanity doesn't exist. That's just another lie people tell themselves as they flick through Twitter or post an ironic meme on Reddit.

I can pinpoint exactly at what age when I fell down the rabbit hole.

I was 17. My only parent, an alcoholic mother who abused me, neglected me and treated me like shit, decided to abandon me, so I left home, aged 16. And then at some point I stopped denying. Living on my own in supported accommodation with rats, literally and metaphorically. I stopped picking my nose and I started picking my brains. I started imagining my mother burning alive, her flesh reappearing only to disintegrate again as she screamed in agony.

I gazed upon the abyss; the singularity. Pure, unadulterated truth: pain in its most horrific form. Boundless anxiety and primal fear - loss - terror - horrific depression - burning rage - hypochondria. Then total despair. I wrapped myself up like a newborn baby in my duvet and weeped into the carpet floor for hours. I couldn't take it.

I had been mistreated. My childhood had been tainted with lies and lost opportunities. I would never recover.

I looked through Facebook and saw pictures of people laughing; knowing what I didn't the whole time. Knowing a sense of security and not doubting themselves and who they are. "Ha, fuck their stupid comfortable little identities." I was jealous, deep down, but there was no way back. Not anymore.

It was at this point a sense of odd peace descended on me; a moment I termed the Dawn of My Awakening. The eye of the storm. I thought back to everyone who had ever wronged me, made fun of me. It's not like I was bullied heavily in school, but after school, the people in the social housing, they were so horrible. They ripped me up. I was nothing from that point onward.

I thought I'd cried all the tears I could. I honestly thought I was a psychopath.

Sometimes I make myself laugh.

That is when I entered the next layer of the onion. Those people I walk past in the street - they are murderers. All the smiling people, and even the ones who don't - the inwardly serene people. It's subtle, you have to catch it. You see it in the ease of their actions, the minor flourishes of a hand or the lack of twitching lips. Stability. The foundations of which cannot be anything but the fulfilment of unconscious desires: the sex, money, power part of the brain that ticks and chimes like Big Ben. The private resounding in the brain. The reptilian.

The reptilian sentinels with their menacing diamond-shaped pupils and cold personalities that allow them to walk all over humans like me. The lizards with their slippery elongated tongues with lisps that lash out like cracking whips. The screaming children and the reversing cars that shield them in the sunshine halls of suburbia. I hate them all.

I hate the parks and the children and the houses and the cars and the volleyball players. I hate the computers and the iPhones and the sunglasses and the law degrees and the depressed parents who yell at their children outside community centres. I hate the warm days when it's so easy to pretend everything is going okay, and I hate the posters of the smiling people. I see behind their eyes the neglected skeletal figures of Hell. I hate the adverts about shampoo and sitcoms like Big Bang Theory. I hate the fashionistas and the pretentious Starbucks employees, and the fat girl who works as a cashier who is always laughing way too loud.

I hate it all.

Don't infect me with your la dee dah land of grown ups. Don't lecture me with maturity you've constructed out of your own neglected ambitions. Don't fist bump me the hand you used to masturbate to girls on Facebook, or neglect your responsibilities as a man with a video game controller. I don't care about you, or /this/.

In truth, I am a lonely animal who lives off of small pleasures, so if you see me, offer me a friendly smile. Maybe open a door for me. Don't be angry at me. It's not entirely my fault. The dice of fate were loaded. If you are kind, I won't harm your children. I won't hunt productive members of your society. I won't hurt the economy. You'll do this for me. Otherwise we're going to have a disagreement. Otherwise, I'll think about taking action. But for now, I'm dormant. And I will stay that way. For now.

I take my job as a clinical psychologist very seriously. The days of feeling self-conscious when I don my dark-brown trench coat are long since gone. The imposter syndrome fades into the background along with the rest of the distractions.

I care about my clients I deal with, which are mostly young men dealing with aggression and depression. I feel for them. I relate to their stories and their pain and their anger. I wish I had a magic wand to make it all better, but I don't, and so I have to deal with reality. I tell them as much truth as I can afford. I tell them they need to get off their backside and fend for themselves because nobody else is gonna do it for them in this cruel life.

These are the children of alcoholics, abandoned by their fathers, by their families, by society.

I zoom out and listen to the silence and gaze up at the full moon in February. I imagine the waves crash against the cliffs as they once did in my childhood. The feeling of salty freshness bashing against my ears. That is just enough to soothe my anguished soul until the next big thing knocks me down like a sack of potatoes. Like a smashed dinner plate.

submitted by /u/BoredOnlyChild [link] [comments] via Blogger https://ift.tt/33wss1l

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thatcrazyfanfictionwriter · 6 years

Text

Secret of the Sewers: Showdown

Rows of Foot soldiers knelt in one of the large open floors of Saki Corporations. The elites were there too, all five of them kneeling in the front row of the assembly. Even Hun was there, though none of them knew why Saki had summoned them all so abruptly. Just then, Saki, decked out in his Shredder armor, walked out he made it to the center of a platform overlooking the troops.

"Warriors of the Foot," Shredder addressed. "Tonight, we finally eliminate an enemy that has plagued us for the past four years."

This was met with some surprised glances. Only a handful had known that the turtles were still alive, and those that didn’t know were shocked to learn it.

"For too long these turtles have ruined our plans and made fools of our forces." Shredder continued. "Well no more. Tonight marks the beginning of the end! Tonight, at long last, the turtles die!"

Now, the Foot soldiers let out a loud cheer at the call, eager for the deaths of their enemies.

…

Down in the sewers, everyone was in the middle of preparing for all-out war. Leo sharpened his swords, checking them to ensure that they were pristine. Donny was gathering up various tools and supplies that he may need during this confrontation, stuffing them in a duffle bag hanging from his shoulder. Raph was in his room, sitting on the floor with a weight set, working out his arms so he'd be in top shape. Mikey was testing out his three piece staff, getting in some practice on Raph's bag to ensure he could use it properly if needed.

Miwa and Hisako were also making preparations, but of a more personal nature. Miwa did not want to face the Shredder in the sweats Hisako had lent her, and her new sister had agreed. After a few failed outfits, Hisako came out of her room with a smile.

"Guys, I'd like to introduce you to someone." she declared.

The turtles all stopped what they were doing and gathered around Hisako's door. She smiled and pulled it open.

"May I present, Hamato Miwa." She declared.

Miwa stepped out of Hisako's room, a smile on her face. She was wearing a plain black t-shirt under a dark green hoodie, a pair of jeans and a proper pair of boots. She had a sword attached to her back and her hair was tied up in a ponytail.

"What do you think?" she asked.

All the turtles smiled.

"Nice." Leo complimented.

"Looking good, sis." Mikey agreed.

"Looks good on you." Donny added.

Miwa smiled, then looked over at Raph.

"You like it?" she questioned nervously.

Everyone looked at Raph, waiting for him to answer. Hisako watched him with no small amount of apprehension. Though he was becoming more open to the idea that Miwa was their sister now, he was still having the hardest time getting over everything she'd done as Karai. Still, he knew she was trying, and he knew he needed to 'turtle up'.

"It's alright." Raph finally replied.

Miwa smiled.

"Thanks."

About that time, Splinter emerged from his room, having been meditating this whole time. When he saw his children all prepared, as well as Miwa's new look, he felt a mixture of pride and fear. He had just gotten his daughter back, and he knew that there was a chance of losing her, Hisako, and his sons. And yet, seeing them all willing to lay everything on the line for one another filled his heart with great joy.

"My children." he called out.

All six of them turned towards him. He gestured for them to come forward and they did, taking up sitting positions in front of him.

"My children, I have no illusions that the battle we are about to commence will be easy. It will be a most trying challenge you, but I have faith that all of you will persevere. You are all ninja, and you are all honorable warriors, and I have never been prouder to call you my children."

He locked eyes with Miwa and smiled warmly.

"All of you."

The six all got to their feet, Donny glancing at the clock.

"It's almost time." he announced.

"Then let's not keep Shred-head waiting." Hisako declared. "Time to show him that when you mess with green, it's gonna get mean."

…

The Hamato clan waited on the roof of the Wolf Hotel, an old building that had been long abandoned and was currently for lease. There was a small water tower on the roof, one that the six were all leaning against in preparation for Shredder's appearance. Splinter sat in front of them in a meditative stance, his ears twitching at every sound the wind brought. Donny looked at a watch around his wrist, eying the minute hand as it reached midnight. The second it did, the Motorheads emerged from the shadows, swarming the rooftop like a colony of ants. They surrounded the tower and those gathered around it. They left a large enough space for a large puff of smoke to accumulate, allowing the five Elites to emerge, weapons at the ready. From the rooftop entrance, Hun came bursting through the door, leaving it dangling from a single hinge, dented beyond recognition.

"I see the pawns, the knights, and the rook," Hisako commented, pointing to the Foot, the Elites, and Hun respectively, "But where's the king?"

Just then, a blur zoomed up from the ground. Suddenly, Shredder landed in front of his forces, striking a dramatic pose.

"Hamato Yoshi." He snarled, his mask distorting his voice so it sounded as demonic as his mask made him appear.

"Oroku Saki." Splinter replied, not even opening his eyes. "I was surprised to learn you survived."

"As was I when I learned you were the rat who trained these thorns in my side." Shredder retorted. "How ironic that the street rat the council allowed into the ranks of the Foot all those years ago transformed into a true rat."

Splinter just stood up, taking hold of his walking stick.

"I long ago learned to embrace this form, and have accepted my life as Splinter." he explained.

"Bah." Shredder spat. "You've always been nothing more than a thieving pest, taking everything that should have rightfully been mine! It was bad enough that you stole Tang Shen from me, but now you take my daughter!"

"I am not your daughter, Shredder!" Miwa snapped before Leo placed a hand on her shoulder to calm her down.

Shredder's gaze visibly softened when he laid eyes on her. He slid his helmet off, looking at her with a hurt expression.

"I raised you, trained you, and taught you everything you know about ninjutsu." He told her. "I gave you anything you ever wanted, and this is how you repay me?"

"You also lied to me my whole life!" Miwa retorted. "You used me like I was just another one of your precious Motorheads!"

Mikey smirked at her use of the unofficial nickname for the Foot ninja.

"I've never been anything more than an instrument of your revenge." Miwa snarled, drawing her sword. "Well no more."

Shredder's fist clenched and his gaze hardened.

"So be it." He declared, his voice low.

He slid his helmet back on, then pointed towards the group.

"Foot Ninja, attack!"

"Let the butt kickin begin." Raph commented.

The Foot ninja converged on the group like buzzards on roadkill as the turtles met them all head on, blades, staffs and other weapons colliding. Leo's swords clashed with several of the Foot ninja, the ringing of the swords echoing through the night. Donny's staff managed to block several attacks from a few more swords, the metal successfully holding up against the sharp blades. Mikey swung his Nunchucks left, right and all over the place, hitting anyone who dare get in reach of his deadly Nunchucks of Fury.

"Hey Raph!" Mikey exclaimed. "You got an Elite on your tail!"

Raph quickly rabbit punched the incoming Elite, knocking the poor sap to the ground where he was instantly met with a hard kick.

"That felt good." Raph remarked.

That's when a punch from Hun came from seemingly out of nowhere, connecting with his chest. Raph went flying back, colliding into the supports of the water tower. As he regained his composure, Hun walked over to him, cracking his knuckles.

"I know how you feel." Hun replied walking over to the fallen turtle.

Miwa then leapt off of the water tower, landing right on Hun's shoulders and wrapping her legs around his meaty neck.

"Stay away from my brother!" she shouted.

Hun attempted to pull Miwa off of him, but she continually moved out of the way, narrowly avoiding his large hands. Using the hilt of her sword, she continually bashed Hun in the forehead, attempting to knock the behemoth out cold. Unknown to her, a Motorhead came up behind her and tried to slice at her with his sword. Fortunately, it was blocked by Leo.

"Careful Miwa." He joked. "It's not like you to get distracted."

"I'm not used to fighting with people I actually care about." She retorted, leaping off of Hun and sending him stumbling into the rooftop entrance.

"Gotta admit. It's nice fighting alongside you for a change." Leo shared, kicking the Motorhead away.

Miwa smirked, then approached Raph, holding out a hand.

"You alright?" she asked.

"Just dandy." Raph remarked, batting her hand away before leapfrogging over her.

He engaged with the hook swords Elite, clashing a bit before the two locked weapons. After struggling for a bit, Raph snapped the swords with his sai. He then leapt into the air and hit the elite in the face with the blunt end of his sai, knocking him out.

…

Meanwhile, Hisako had her hands full with a group of Motorheads and the Kama elite. She was moving about a mile a minute, trying to keep ahead of the multiple enemies closing in on her. Just then, Donny vaulted over her and landed behind her knocking away every Motorhead standing in his way.

"Isn't that usually the other way around, Don?" Hisako quipped, her fans slicing through the chain of an oncoming kusarigama.

"What?" Donny asked, activating the double blades in his staff. "A turtle's not allowed to rescue his little sister?"

The two then jumped up in the air, performing nearly identical split kicks on some of the Foot Ninja before landing back to back.

"Never said that 'big brother'." Hisako joked.

…

Leo was facing down a few Motorheads himself. He did a split kick, taking two of them out.

"Hey guys!" Leo called out. "I finally perfected my split kick!"

Raph knocked a Motorhead out of the way, looking at his brother with a smirk.

"Sorry, I missed it!" he called.

"Do it again!" Miwa insisted, a Motorhead locked in a hold in her arms.

Two more Foot ninja attempted to attack Leo, only to join the first to on the ground as victims of his split kick.

"One more time!" Miwa and Raph called in unison.

He performed it once more, leaving an almost perfect ring of unconscious Motorheads around him. Miwa successfully knocked out the one she had in a headlock before giving Leo a grin.

"Saw that one!" She called. "And I give it a ten!"

She held up ten fingers as Raph held up all six of his, earning a chuckle from Leo.

"What, only a six?" He joked.

"Hey, it's all I got." Raph defended, blocking a punch from another Motorhead.

Mikey meanwhile, was bashing away at every Motorhead in sight. As the numbers began increasing, Mikey locked his Nunchucks together into a three piece. He then continued his assault with a grin.

"Betcha didn't see that coming now didja?" He gloated.

…

While the four turtles and their human sisters dealt with all of the underlings, Shredder marched through the battle undeterred, locking eyes with Splinter. The rat had not moved from his meditative position since the battle had begun, though his eyes watched Shredder with a steel-like gaze.

"I have looked forward to this for some time." Shredder told him. "I had thought that fate had robbed me of my vengeance, yet here you stand."

Splinter rose to his feet, his claws grasping tightly to his walking stick.

"I too believed you dead Saki." He commented. "Though in a way, I was right. The aniki I fought alongside died long ago. Now all that is left is the monster Shredder."

Shredder just growled at the words being thrown at him.

"Look closely at this 'monster' Yoshi," Shredder spoke. "For it is the last thing you will ever see!"

Shredder then raised his claw and brought them down on Splinter. However, seconds before they landed, Splinter brought his walking stick up to block the blow. His tail then wrapped around Shredder's left leg, yanking him off balance and onto the ground.

"As I said before, I have come to accept this form." Splinter jested, his tail unraveling and coming up like a weapon. "And all the benefits it grants me."

Shredder slowly got back up to his feet, growling as he did. Shredder then sprinted towards Splinter and tried delivering a series of blows to him. Splinter blocked the attacks with his stick.

…

Miwa and Leo were surrounded on all sides by the three elites that were still conscious, as well as about a half dozen normal foot soldiers.

"You know, as far as dates go, this is one of my better ones." Miwa joked.

"Have you been talking with Mikey again?" Leo asked annoyed.

One of the Elites attempted a swing at Miwa, forcing her duck. She used his forward momentum to launch him into the air, where she joined him, spin kicking him into Hun. The behemoth had just begun to regain consciousness before the flying Elite sent him back into dreamland.

"Hey, I just think it's funny that we were 'dating' all that time and it turns out we were siblings." She remarked.

"Yeah well I'm still kinda weirded out that I had a crush on my sister." Leo replied doing a jump kick to one Motorhead.

"Don't forget the fact that before that, we were her pets." Raph added, barreling through a group of motorheads like a wild bull. "She technically owned us."

Miwa shivered at that.

"Okay, now it just got even more awkward."

"We are not having this conversation right now!" Leo yelled.

"Well we can't exactly go to a family counselor Leo." Raph argued. "Six o'clock."

Both Miwa and Leo did a 180, punching the Elite coming at them at the same time.

"Look can we just talk about this later?" Leo asked.

"Whatever you say Leonardo." Miwa told him, ruffling his hair playfully. "Now come on, I think Hisako and Donatello could use a hand."

…

Back with Splinter, he kept on the defensive as Shredder delivered blow after blow. Though he had yet to receive any wound more grievous than a few minor cuts, he had been unable to get a blow in offense wise. Shredder was even being mindful of the tail and had nearly cut it off twice already. Shredder then tried kicking Splinter, but the rat master ducked under it and struck Shredder in the head with his stick. Shredder's helmet rang like a gong, disorienting him for a second. That was all Splinter needed. He quickly kicked Shredder in the stomach sending him flying. He hit the support of the water tower, denting it slightly. Growling, Shredder straightened up and jumped right back at Splinter.

…

Donny planted his staff into the ground, using it as an anchor to perform one of his favorite movie stunts.

"I've always wanted to try this!" He cheered as his foot connected with several Foot ninja at once.

"Nice one Don!" Hisako cheered.

"Thanks!" Donny replied landing on the ground.

Unfortunately for Hisako, cheering for her brother left her open for attack, something the Kama elite took advantage of. The Kama caught her across the back, the blade slicing right through her shell backpack and narrowly missing his skin. Her eyes went wide as she turned on the guy, stuffing falling from the large gash.

"Did you just break my shell?" she asked, her voice quiet and hard.

The Kama Elite didn't even have time to blink before Hisako's foot connected with his gut.

"This shell was a gift from my friends, and you destroyed it!" she screamed, upper cutting the poor guy. "Nobody destroys my turtle shell!"

Her next kick connected right in between the guy's legs, forcing him to fall to the ground in a high-pitched puddle of agony.

"Ouch." Mikey let out. "Think that might have been a bit excessive?"

"Not a chance." Raph remarked.

Hisako let out a snort of anger as she slid her backpack off, looking at it sadly. Miwa placed a hand on her shoulder in sympathy.

"We'll get you a new one after we kick their butts." she promised.

Hisako smirked, then she quickly tossed the remains of her backpack at the spear wielding Elite, catching him in a rain of white fluffiness. Temporarily blinded, he didn't see the two girls coming at him until they kicked him. Miwa's kick got him in the stomach while Hisako's connected with his face. The two landed, then exchanged high fives with one another.

"Glad you're on our side now." Hisako told her.

"You kidding, I'm glad you're on my side now!" Miwa exclaimed.

"You can braid each other's hair later!" Mikey called out, swinging his three piece staff around. "We've got butts to kick!"

"Right!" The two girls said in unison.

…

Back with Splinter, he finally seemed to be gaining ground in his fight against Shredder. His tail was darting towards him, attempting to find weak points in the armor while his staff kept the deadly claws at bay.

"Your forces are dwindling by the minute." Splinter noted, hoping to goad Shredder into making a mistake. "You are losing this battle, Shredder."

"Well then," Shredder replied. "It looks like after I am done with you, I'll have to take care of them myself."

"You could never beat me when we were younger, Saki." Splinter reminded him. "What makes you think that has changed?"

Shredder growled at that remark and tried pressing the attack. Splinter continued blocking the attacks until he back flipped near the edge of the roof. He then motioned Shredder to come towards him, and Shredder did so sprinting. Splinter waited until Shredder was right in front of him before ducking under his attack and tripping him up with his tail, sending him over the edge.

"As the old saying goes, the bigger they are, the harder they fall." Splinter remarked, turning his back on where Shredder had fallen.

Miwa looked back at Splinter, smiling a bit as he emerged victorious. However, that smile quickly turned to a look of horror as she screamed.

"Father! Look out!"

Splinter turned around, only to be impaled through the stomach by Shredder's claw. The sound of metal entering flesh caused all of the Hamato children to freeze, turning towards their sensei and father.

"Dad, no!" Miwa screamed.

"Sensei!" The turtles exclaimed.

"Splinter!" Hisako shrieked.

Splinter coughed blood as Shredder raised him up, still impaled upon his gauntlet.

"This has been a moment long overdue." Shredder declared. "The final death of Hamato Yoshi!"

With that, Shredder tossed Splinter off the roof, sending him falling to his doom. In that moment, it was as if the entire world was moving in slow motion. Hisako dropped her fans, running at full speed towards the edge Splinter had been tossed off of. Any Foot ninja or Elite that attempted to stop her was immediately intercepted by a turtle, all of them working together with one goal in mind, keep Splinter from hitting the ground.

Hisako dove over the edge, catching Splinter around the waist as she attempted to catch the fire escape of the adjacent building. The sheer force of her momentum combined with Splinter's added weight nearly wrenched her arm out of socket, but she didn't dare let go. Mustering every ounce of strength she could, Hisako pulled Splinter onto the fire escape, laying him down against the wall.

"Sensei!" she exclaimed, yanking off her vest and using it to try and staunch the bleeding. "Sensei, stay with me!"

She put pressure on the wound as tears filled her eyes.

"Sensei!"

"H… His… Hisako…" Splinter tried to say.

Hisako let out a huge sigh of relief as she cradled Splinter's face.

"Sensei, I'm here." she told him. "It's gonna be okay. Donny can get you fixed up no problem."

"You must…. Return to the battle." he told her. "Help… your brothers… help…. Miwa."

"I can't just leave you here, Sensei." Hisako insisted. "I can't! I just-"

Splinter placed one of his hands on hers, giving her a reassuring look.

"I will… be fine… go…"

Hisako's breath hitched, then she closed her eyes. Taking a deep breath, she calmed herself down and straightened up. Her hands, covered in the blood of her sensei, clenched tightly into fists as she looked up at the rooftop where her family was still fighting.

…

After Hisako had jumped over the side, both Mikey and Donny charged at Shredder, double kicking him in the stomach. He went flying backwards, skidding across the roof and causing some sparks to ignite as he did. He flipped onto his feet as Raph delivered a kicked to his head and Leo aimed for the knees. Shredder easily ducked out of the way of Leo's attack and then jumped to avoid Raph's.

"Still as weak and pathetic as the last time we fought." Shredder sneered. "Just like the rat you call father!"

Raph saw red at that comment and blindly attacked Shredder with his sai. Shredder caught Raph's downward attack, twisting the turtle's wrists and forcing him to drop his weapons. Leo's eyes went wide as he gripped his swords.

"Get off of him!"

The blue turtle ran at Shredder, jumping into the air and bringing his swords down in an arc. Shredder was forced to release Raph so he could bring his arms up in defense. While Leo kept his claws busy, Mikey jumped on his back, wrapping his three piece around Shredder's neck, hoping to incapacitate him. However, Leo was soon kicked into an approaching Donatello, then Mikey was flipped off Shredder's back and onto the semi-conscious Raph.

"Shredder!" Miwa shouted.

Shredder looked up, just in time to see Miwa coming at him with all her might. Her sword came down on his arms, then she began a barrage of blows at nearly impossible speeds. Shredder blocked each one of them, glaring at her.

"Have you forgotten that I am the one who trained you?" He questioned. "You hold no surprises for me, Karai."

"It's Miwa!" She screamed.

She attempted another blow, but this time, Shredder caught the blade. Her eyes went wide as her weapon was wrenched from her grasp and Shredder's hand came out, grabbing her by the throat. He then threw her aside, where she rolled and coughed, trying to regain her senses and breath. With her out of the way, Shredder glared down at the turtles with burning rage.

"I have tolerated you creatures for far too long." He snarled, lifting his bladed gauntlet. "It's time to end this!"

"SHREDDER!"

The entire building shook as a shockwave of power broke through the night. The turtles all went wide eyed, as did Miwa.

"Uh-oh, now you've done it." Mikey warned. "You've unleashed the beast."

Shredder turned to where the wave had originated as the turtles and Miwa all scrambled for cover. From the street below, surrounded in a halo of green light, Hisako came rising up, floating in the air. Shredder gasped at the sight, this being the first time he had truly witnessed Hisako's "Dark Phoenix mode".

"Nani-?" Shredder tried to ask.

Hisako thrusted her hand forward, her finger splayed. The resulting power sent Shredder flying across the roof and into the water tower, which by now way beginning to lean slightly from all the damage to its supports.

"This is for my brothers!"

Throwing her arm to the side, she sent Shredder, as well as the few Motorheads that hadn't been taken out already, into the roof access structure.

"This is for Miwa!"

She brought her hand up, then shoved it down hard, bringing Shredder and his cronies down on the roof hard enough to leave impressions in the concrete.

"This is for Master Splinter!"

She did it a second time, then slowly lifted Shredder up and straightened him. By now he was groaning in pain and it was clear that he was clinging to consciousness by a thread. Hisako forced him to look her in the eye as she spoke one last time.

"And this… is for ten years… of HELL!"

With one hard shove, Hisako sent Shredder flying off of the roof. She then released her power, allowing him to plummet to the ground with no one to catch him. However, she still wasn't done with him. She turned her sights on the water tower, squinting at it as she shoved both her hands towards it. When the turtles saw that familiar halo of light surround the tower, all of them went wide-eyed.

"Can she do that Don?" Leo asked nervously.

"In theory, it's possible." Don replied, eyes glued to the scene. "But the mental strain..."

That's when they heard the sound of metal tearing free of the concrete. Hisako moved over where Shredder had fallen, gazing down on him with a cold, merciless expression. Down below, he was attempting to crawl away, only to freeze when the shadow fell over him.

"Oops."

Hisako's power cut off and the tower dropped, shattering upon impact and flooding the entire street with hundreds upon hundreds of gallons of water. The turtles and Miwa all came to the edge so see the flooded wreckage, all of them shocked at everything that had just happened. Then Donny looked over at Hisako to see blood running down her nose like a waterfall.

"Hisako!" He shrieked.

The power Hisako had manifested faded away as her eyes rolled back in her head. She would have fallen, but Raph caught her before she did.

"Good job, sis." he told her. "Good job."

That's when the turtles heard the ever familiar sound of cracking stone as the building began to shake.

"Um, I think she broke the building again." Mikey commented with no small amount of fear.

"Then let's get out of here now." Leo declared.

"But what about dad?" Miwa asked. "Where'd Hisako leave him?"

Donny did some quick calculations as they got off the crumbling building.

"Best guess, the adjacent building that way." he hypothesized, pointing. "Probably on a fire escape."

"Then let's go get him!" Raph practically screamed.

…

They made it to the other building just a few seconds before the other came crumbling down. They braced themselves for a few second until the debris field passed. Once it passed, they got on the fire escape, only to find a distinct lack of their sensei.

"Don, I think your calculations were off." Mikey commented.

Before Donny could retort, his foot met something hard and wooden. He looked down to see Splinter's walking stick, resting on Hisako's blood covered vest. He bent down and picked them both up, a sinking feeling in his gut.

"Guys, look."

Everyone gathered around, all of them silent for a minute.

"Splinter was here." Donny realized. "But he's not anymore."

"You don't think someone took him, do you?" Mikey asked.

"One of the foot maybe?" Miwa suggested.

The idea made all of them all shiver in fear. About that time, a large group of sirens was beginning to approach their position, alerting them to the possible dangers.

"We need to disappear." Leo insisted.

"But Splinter-" Raph began.

"We'll find him Raph, but we're no use to him if we get caught, and we still have Hisako to take care off."

Raph looked at Hisako, whom he'd draped over his shell to make her easier to carry. He sighed then jumped off the fire escape towards a nearby sewer grate. Donny followed soon after, still holding the walking stick and the vest. Mikey came third, then Leo prepared to jump. Before he did, he placed a hand on Miwa's shoulder to comfort her.

"Splinter's tough." he told her. "He'll be fine, and we'll find him."

Miwa gave a small nod, then straightened up. Together, the two jumped off the fire escape and joined their siblings in the sewers.

…

A ways across town, the guardian Samson walked towards a large office building, passing a large sign that read 'Galactic Enterprises'. The doors opened automatically for him as a man with light purple hair greeted him. The man then gasped when he saw that Samson had someone with him.

"Samson, what is this?"

"I had no choice." Samson replied in a hurry. "He needs help now."

The man looked at Samson, then whistled. Two guards came and relieved Samson of the intended patient, running off with them as the man stared down Samson.

"You know that you are taking a large risk by doing this."

"I know." Samson replied. "But whatever comes of my actions, I will take full responsibility."

The man sighed, patting Samson on the shoulder as the two walked deeper into the building.

…

Emergency crews were sifting through the remains of the water tower, sighing as they did.

"Seems half the buildings in the city are falling down these days." One remarked.

"I hear ya." a second replied.

While they exchanged pleasantries, some of the rubble from the building shifted, allowing for Hun to pull himself free. The two crew members hadn't noticed him, and he used that to his advantage. He grabbed them both, smashing their heads together so the fell unconscious.

"Master." He called as he pushed large sections of the broken tower aside. "Master!"

He finally managed to locate the Shredder amidst the rubble. He pulled him free, yanking the helmet off his head. Though he was obviously in a lot of pain, and no doubt had many broken bones, he was still alive. Hun breathed a sigh of relief as he cradled his Master.

"Fear not, Master." Hun assured him. "This fight is far from over."

With that, he disappeared into the night, taking the Shredder with him.

0 notes

theliterateape · 6 years

Text

Considering Chicago’s Dead Rats — An Existential Discovery

By David Himmel

Recently, I watched a rat die naturally and it nearly broke my heart. It’s a strange feeling since I have taken the lives of so many rats before.

In our house, we refer to the summer of 2014 affectionately as the Summer of the Rat. Three out of seven days a week during that summer when I would take our dog, Eddie, out for his morning constitutional, I’d find at least one dead rat in one of the several rat traps we had set in our yard. While Eddie did his business, I tended to the business of disposing of the rat. I was always prepared to find one so I’d pick up the trap gingerly by its edges and drop it into the plastic trash bag I’d brought out with me. When Eddie was done, I’d use a smaller plastic bag to scoop up his poop and drop that into the rat bag, tie it up and walk it to the dumpster behind our apartment building.

At some point during the previous winter or spring, rats had made their way into the walls of the first-floor apartment below where we lived. At dusk, when rats are their busiest, it was more common than not to see one or two or three run across the yard into the street or into one of the many holes they had dug around the apartment’s perimeter. My wife, Katie, gladly gave me the responsibility of taking Eddie out at night, too.

My uncle Jon, who owns a farm, gave me a large box of your standard rat traps. I baited and set them in front of every rat hole I could find. We didn’t want to use rat poison out of concern for Eddie and the neighbor’s dog and any city rabbit rascally enough to make a snack of it. Traps, when baited and set properly, are the most effective way to get rid of the problem. And the problem was made of some big bastards. From snout to tail, they measured the length from my elbow to the tip of my middle finger and were much fatter than my forearm. Their deaths were bloody. Sometimes the trap would catch their neck, snapping it and sending blood out of their mouths. Sometimes it would catch their skull, crushing it, and the blood wood seep out onto the paver stone walkway and patio of our building. I should have asked the landlord to purchase a power washer that I could use to clean up the stains.

One afternoon, while tossing the tennis ball in the yard with Eddie — pop flies only so he wouldn’t accidentally trap his foot — I saw one of our next door neighbors walking out of her place. At the same time, I glanced a fat rat walking slowly along the concrete base of that property’s fence. The young woman saw it, too, and shrieked.

“Hang on,” I said to her. “I’ll get him.”

I quickly grabbed the snow shovel with the metal edge I kept in the foyer of our building and walked to her front gate. “It’s OK if I come in?” I asked. She nodded a frantic yes, otherwise frozen with fear. I thought it was strange that a rat would be so bold to parade itself like this in the middle of the day until I realized that it must have been sick, having likely gotten into some poison set out on some other property. It was moving slow enough that I had no trouble reaching it and slamming the edge of the shovel down onto it.

Over and over and over. I hoped the first thrust would decapitate it or sever its spine. But rats are tough fuckers and the thing just squealed until finally, it stopped. The neighbor thanked me. I scooped the thing up and carried it to the dumpster.

A week or so later during the same time of day, Eddie and I stepped outside for our afternoon pee and poop and ball tossing. He bolted down the steps as per usual but instead of heading out to the grass at the front of the yard, he bolted straight to the property-dividing fence at the bottom of the steps and buried his head in the neighbor’s foliage. It didn’t alarm me because dogs like to smell things. But he wasn’t leaving. Eddie was onto something. There was something in the foliage. I ducked down, scooted Eddie out of the way and pushed the plants apart. He had been snout to snout with another fat rat.

I rushed him upstairs and tossed him in the tub for a good scrubbing. I don’t know how much actual contact he had with the rat but I wasn’t going to take any chances. I figured that this rat, like the one from the week before, had also ingested poison. As Eddie soaked, I called the vet and asked if I needed to be concerned. “Probably not. Give him a bath and keep an eye on him. If he acts strangely, call us back or bring him in.” He was fine — more annoyed at the mid-day bath than anything.

I grabbed my best butcher knife from the kitchen and returned to the fence hoping the rat was still there. It was. I stabbed it with the knife. It didn’t shriek or even move. It just let me kill it. As I did, I wondered if the rat and Eddie had communicated at all. If the rat had confessed anything to my pup while on its deathbed. I wondered if it saw me as a savior — an angel of death sparing him from the lengthy agony the poisoning would have caused.

(I washed the knife with soap under the hottest water half a dozen times then ran it through the dishwasher on the HEAVY setting. I never told Katie about this, and I’m hoping she’s not reading this. Please, no one mention it to her. She may divorce me if she knows the truth. Or worse, I’ll have to buy a new set of knives, and those things ain’t cheap.)

Later on, that summer, toward the end of the rats’ reign, I noticed a sticky pad set up along the wall of our building not far from what I am convinced was the rats’ front door into the first-floor walls. Sticky pads are terrible traps for rats, Uncle Jon told me. Most of the time the rats will step on it and are strong enough to free themselves, not caring that they often leave behind a limb in the process. Rats are survivors and vanity doesn’t register with them. A gimp rat with a missing leg may well be a rat to be honored among the mischief. I figured one of the guys downstairs must have dropped the sticky pad, and that was as much as I thought about it. Until the next morning when as Eddie was pooping in the grass, I saw two kitten rats — baby rats are called kittens in a wonderfully ironic twist — caught on the sticky pad.

They were squirming trying to free themselves. I felt sorry for them. The poor things were likely the last of their swarm, and with having killed so many adult rats, I had left them without any adult supervision. Not having been taught the skills to navigate the world’s dangers, they couldn’t have known to avoid the sticky trap. Eddie did his business, we tossed the ball around for a bit and then headed back into the apartment so he could get back to napping on my office couch and I could get back to work.

But I couldn’t stop thinking about the baby rats. The fear they must have felt. The confusion. The suffering. I went back outside with the intention of stomping them out. Me, the kind Angel of Death there to make it quick and painless. I grabbed the rusty hedge clippers from underneath the first-floor apartment’s porch. I was surprised to find a third rat kitten in the sticky pad.

Maybe they were siblings, three brothers. Maybe the two went out in search of food while the third stayed back to guard the nest. When the first two didn’t return, the third brother went in search of them. Seeing them stuck on the sticky pad, he, of course, wanted to help them. “No!” the two trapped brothers screamed at him. “It’s a trap! Stay away! Save yourself!” But he refused and in his young, foolish brain, he thought he could save them. And there they were, three little rats, squirming together, huddled up with one another as if they were comforting each other.

I couldn’t help but think of my brothers, Eric and Steven. How scared we would be if our entire family was dead and it was just us alone in the world to fend for ourselves, and now we were trapped, scared, hungry and hurting, knowing death was the only conclusion.

The clippers weren’t sharp enough to pierce them. I only managed to bludgeon them, hurting them more. They squealed. They cried out. “It’ll be OK, my brothers!” the oldest one may have said. Finally, after several minutes of beating the three rat kittens with the handle of the clippers, they died. I picked up the pad with the shears and carried it to the dumpster. I tossed the shears in, too. I went back upstairs, washed my hands and snuggled with Eddie. Then I called my brothers.

A few days ago, I was walking into a bookstore in Evanston. Before I got to the door, I noticed a small rat that I first thought was a mouse scurrying around the sidewalk’s high concrete planters. It was 11 a.m. and nasty, nasty cold. This rat should not have been away from its mischief. Judging by its size, it was a youngling, a teenager who had perhaps, in a moment of defiance, stormed out of his family’s nest. It couldn’t climb the concrete. It would leap, get hold and then fall back down the six inches to the sidewalk. It looked like it had a bum leg. Broken maybe. Frozen perhaps.

I heard a little girl scream, “Eww!” She was sitting in a minivan parked along the curb. The windows were down. The engine was running. She and her brother shared the front seat. “Is that a mouse?” she asked stretching farther out of the window.

“It’s a rat,” I said.

“You should help it. Pick it up.”

“I’d love to help it but rats are really dirty and it could bite me. He’ll figure it out. He’s a smart little creature.”

“It’s so gross! I hope it’s OK.” She and her younger brother jostled for a better view of the gross rat she wanted to help.

I spent an hour in the bookstore. I hoped I would either see the rat still trying to climb or not see it at all because it had made its way to wherever it was trying to go. Instead, I found it dead against the planter. I stopped alongside it. It looked peaceful but I know it died frustrated, which is the last way I want to go. I pondered its existence in a moment of silence and allowed myself to feel sadness over its death and its disappointing final moments.

Generally, I hate rats. They’re ugly and dirty and dangerous and destructive. When I was single, I patrolled the alley behind my apartment with a bb gun hunting the nasty bastards. This activity was the first conversation and debate Katie and I ever had. “They have a right to be there, you know.” She was right. Rats are only here because we’re here. And as long as they stay out of my home’s walls and my yard and away from my neighbors and my dog, I’m fine with them. As fine as a rat’s merchant of death can be, anyway.

But I felt sad for the bookstore rat for the same reason I felt sad about the three kittens on the sticky pad: I can relate. I saw my brothers and I on the sticky pad and I saw myself in the bookstore rat. Their youthful zest for life stopped short because of conditions beyond their control, because of circumstances they were unable to improve. They tried and they failed. Their ultimate undoing was a result of their desire to do something despite the odds. It’s the same risk I try to run every single day.

#Chicago Rats #Rat Extermination

0 notes

literateape · 6 years

Text

Considering Chicago’s Dead Rats — An Existential Discovery

By David Himmel

Recently, I watched a rat die naturally and it nearly broke my heart. It’s a strange feeling since I have taken the lives of so many rats before.

“Hang on,” I said to her. “I’ll get him.”

“It’s a rat,” I said.

“You should help it. Pick it up.”

“I’d love to help it but rats are really dirty and it could bite me. He’ll figure it out. He’s a smart little creature.”

“It’s so gross! I hope it’s OK.” She and her younger brother jostled for a better view of the gross rat she wanted to help.

#Chicago Rats #Rat Extermination

0 notes

readbookywooks · 7 years

Text

Arya

The scent of hot bread drifting from the shops along the Street of Flour was sweeter than any perfume Arya had ever smelled. She took a deep breath and stepped closer to the pigeon. It was a plump one, speckled brown, busily pecking at a crust that had fallen between two cobblestones, but when Arya's shadow touched it, it took to the air. Her stick sword whistled out and caught it two feet off the ground, and it went down in a flurry of brown feathers. She was on it in the blink of an eye, grabbing a wing as the pigeon flapped and fluttered. It pecked at her hand. She grabbed its neck and twisted until she felt the bone snap. Compared with catching cats, pigeons were easy. A passing septon was looking at her askance. "Here's the best place to find pigeon," Arya told him as she brushed herself off and picked up her fallen stick sword. "They come for the crumbs." He hurried away. She tied the pigeon to her belt and started down the street. A man was pushing a load of tarts by on a two-wheeled cart; the smells sang of blueberries and lemons and apricots. Her stomach made a hollow rumbly noise. "Could I have one?" she heard herself say. "A lemon, or . . . or any kind." The pushcart man looked her up and down. Plainly he did not like what he saw. "Three coppers." Arya tapped her wooden sword against the side of her boot. "I'll trade you a fat pigeon," she said. "The Others take your pigeon," the pushcart man said. The tarts were still warm from the oven. The smells were making her mouth water, but she did not have three coppers . . . or one. She gave the pushcart man a look, remembering what Syrio had told her about seeing. He was short, with a little round belly, and when he moved he seemed to favor his left leg a little. She was just thinking that if she snatched a tart and ran he would never be able to catch her when he said, "You be keepin' your filthy hands off. The gold cloaks know how to deal with thieving little gutter rats, that they do." Arya glanced warily behind her. Two of the City Watch were standing at the mouth of an alley. Their cloaks hung almost to the ground, the heavy wool dyed a rich gold; their mail and boots and gloves were black. One wore a longsword at his hip, the other an iron cudgel. With a last wistful glance at the tarts, Arya edged back from the cart and hurried off. The gold cloaks had not been paying her any special attention, but the sight of them tied her stomach in knots. Arya had been staying as far from the castle as she could get, yet even from a distance she could see the heads rotting atop the high red walls. Flocks of crows squabbled noisily over each head, thick as flies. The talk in Flea Bottom was that the gold cloaks had thrown in with the Lannisters, their commander raised to a lord, with lands on the Trident and a seat on the king's council. She had also heard other things, scary things, things that made no sense to her. Some said her father had murdered King Robert and been slain in turn by Lord Renly. Others insisted that Renly had killed the king in a drunken quarrel between brothers. Why else should he have fled in the night like a common thief? One story said the king had been killed by a boar while hunting, another that he'd died eating a boar, stuffing himself so full that he'd ruptured at the table. No, the king had died at table, others said, but only because Varys the Spider poisoned him. No, it had been the queen who poisoned him. No, he had died of a pox. No, he had choked on a fish bone. One thing all the stories agreed on: King Robert was dead. The bells in the seven towers of the Great Sept of Baelor had tolled for a day and a night, the thunder of their grief rolling across the city in a bronze tide. They only rang the bells like that for the death of a king, a tanner's boy told Arya. All she wanted was to go home, but leaving King's Landing was not so easy as she had hoped. Talk of war was on every lip, and gold cloaks were as thick on the city walls as fleas on . . . well, her, for one. She had been sleeping in Flea Bottom, on rooftops and in stables, wherever she could find a place to lie down, and it hadn't taken her long to learn that the district was well named. Every day since her escape from the Red Keep, Arya had visited each of the seven city gates in turn. The Dragon Gate, the Lion Gate, and the Old Gate were closed and barred. The Mud Gate and the Gate of the Gods were open, but only to those who wanted to enter the city; the guards let no one out. Those who were allowed to leave left by the King's Gate or the Iron Gate, but Lannister men-at-arms in crimson cloaks and lion-crested helms manned the guard posts there. Spying down from the roof of an inn by the King's Gate, Arya saw them searching wagons and carriages, forcing riders to open their saddlebags, and questioning everyone who tried to pass on foot. Sometimes she thought about swimming the river, but the Blackwater Rush was wide and deep, and everyone agreed that its currents were wicked and treacherous. She had no coin to pay a ferryman or take passage on a ship. Her lord father had taught her never to steal, but it was growing harder to remember why. If she did not get out soon, she would have to take her chances with the gold cloaks. She hadn't gone hungry much since she learned to knock down birds with her stick sword, but she feared so much pigeon was making her sick. A couple she'd eaten raw, before she found Flea Bottom. In the Bottom there were pot-shops along the alleys where huge tubs of stew had been simmering for years, and you could trade half your bird for a heel of yesterday's bread and a "bowl o' brown," and they'd even stick the other half in the fire and crisp it up for you, so long as you plucked the feathers yourself. Arya would have given anything for a cup of milk and a lemon cake, but the brown wasn't so bad. It usually had barley in it, and chunks of carrot and onion and turnip, and sometimes even apple, with a film of grease swimming on top. Mostly she tried not to think about the meat. Once she had gotten a piece of fish. The only thing was, the pot-shops were never empty, and even as she bolted down her food, Arya could feel them watching. Some of them stared at her boots or her cloak, and she knew what they were thinking. With others, she could almost feel their eyes crawling under her leathers; she didn't know what they were thinking, and that scared her even more. A couple times, she was followed out into the alleys and chased, but so far no one had been able to catch her. The silver bracelet she'd hoped to sell had been stolen her first night out of the castle, along with her bundle of good clothes, snatched while she slept in a burnt-out house off Pig Alley. All they left her was the cloak she had been huddled in, the leathers on her back, her wooden practice sword . . . and Needle. She'd been lying on top of Needle, or else it would have been gone too; it was worth more than all the rest together. Since then Arya had taken to walking around with her cloak draped over her right arm, to conceal the blade at her hip. The wooden sword she carried in her left hand, out where everybody could see it, to scare off robbers, but there were men in the pot-shops who wouldn't have been scared off if she'd had a battle-axe. It was enough to make her lose her taste for pigeon and stale bread. Often as not, she went to bed hungry rather than risk the stares. Once she was outside the city, she would find berries to pick, or orchards she might raid for apples and cherries. Arya remembered seeing some from the kingsroad on the journey south. And she could dig for roots in the forest, even run down some rabbits. In the city, the only things to run down were rats and cats and scrawny dogs. The potshops would give you a fistful of coppers for a litter of pups, she'd heard, but she didn't like to think about that. Down below the Street of Flour was a maze of twisting alleys and cross streets. Arya scrambled through the crowds, trying to put distance between her and the gold cloaks. She had learned to keep to the center of the street. Sometimes she had to dodge wagons and horses, but at least you could see them coming. If you walked near the buildings, people grabbed you. In some alleys you couldn't help but brush against the walls; the buildings leaned in so close they almost met. A whooping gang of small children went running past, chasing a rolling hoop. Arya stared at them with resentment, remembering the times she'd played at hoops with Bran and Jon and their baby brother Rickon. She wondered how big Rickon had grown, and whether Bran was sad. She would have given anything if Jon had been here to call her "little sister" and muss her hair. Not that it needed mussing. She'd seen her reflection in puddles, and she didn't think hair got any more mussed than hers. She had tried talking to the children she saw in the street, hoping to make a friend who would give her a place to sleep, but she must have talked wrong or something. The little ones only looked at her with quick, wary eyes and ran away if she came too close. Their big brothers and sisters asked questions Arya couldn't answer, called her names, and tried to steal from her. Only yesterday, a scrawny barefoot girl twice her age had knocked her down and tried to pull the boots off her feet, but Arya gave her a crack on her ear with her stick sword that sent her off sobbing and bleeding. A gull wheeled overhead as she made her way down the hill toward Flea Bottom. Arya glanced at it thoughtfully, but it was well beyond the reach of her stick. It made her think of the sea. Maybe that was the way out. Old Nan used to tell stories of boys who stowed away on trading galleys and sailed off into all kinds of adventures. Maybe Arya could do that too. She decided to visit the riverfront. It was on the way to the Mud Gate anyway, and she hadn't checked that one today. The wharfs were oddly quiet when Arya got there. She spied another pair of gold cloaks, walking side by side through the fish market, but they never so much as looked at her. Half the stalls were empty, and it seemed to her that there were fewer ships at dock than she remembered. Out on the Blackwater, three of the king's war galleys moved in formation, gold-painted hulls splitting the water as their oars rose and fell. Arya watched them for a bit, then began to make her way along the river. When she saw the guardsmen on the third pier, in grey woolen cloaks trimmed with white satin, her heart almost stopped in her chest. The sight of Winterfell's colors brought tears to her eyes. Behind them, a sleek three-banked trading galley rocked at her moorings. Arya could not read the name painted on the hull; the words were strange, Myrish, Braavosi, perhaps even High Valyrian. She grabbed a passing longshoreman by the sleeve. "Please," she said, "what ship is this?" "She's the Wind Witch, out of Myr," the man said. "She's still here," Arya blurted. The longshoreman gave her a queer look, shrugged, and walked away. Arya ran toward the pier. The Wind Witch was the ship Father had hired to take her home . . . still waiting! She'd imagined it had sailed ages ago. Two of the guardsmen were dicing together while the third walked rounds, his hand on the pommel of his sword. Ashamed to let them see her crying like a baby, she stopped to rub at her eyes. Her eyes her eyes her eyes, why did . . . Look with your eyes, she heard Syrio whisper. Arya looked. She knew all of her father's men. The three in the grey cloaks were strangers. "You," the one walking rounds called out. "What do you want here, boy?" The other two looked up from their dice. It was all Arya could do not to bolt and run, but she knew that if she did, they would be after her at once. She made herself walk closer. They were looking for a girl, but he thought she was a boy. She'd be a boy, then. "Want to buy a pigeon?" She showed him the dead bird. "Get out of here," the guardsman said. Arya did as he told her. She did not have to pretend to be frightened. Behind her, the men went back to their dice. She could not have said how she got back to Flea Bottom, but she was breathing hard by the time she reached the narrow crooked unpaved streets between the hills. The Bottom had a stench to it, a stink of pigsties and stables and tanner's sheds, mixed in with the sour smell of winesinks and cheap whorehouses. Arya wound her way through the maze dully. It was not until she caught a whiff of bubbling brown coming through a pot-shop door that she realized her pigeon was gone. It must have slipped from her belt as she ran, or someone had stolen it and she'd never noticed. For a moment she wanted to cry again. She'd have to walk all the way back to the Street of Flour to find another one that plump. Far across the city, bells began to ring. Arya glanced up, listening, wondering what the ringing meant this time. "What's this now?" a fat man called from the pot-shop. "The bells again, gods ha'mercy," wailed an old woman. A red-haired whore in a wisp of painted silk pushed open a second-story window. "Is it the boy king that's died now?" she shouted down, leaning out over the street. "Ah, that's a boy for you, they never last long." As she laughed, a naked man slid his arms around her from behind, biting her neck and rubbing the heavy white breasts that hung loose beneath her shift. "Stupid slut," the fat man shouted up. "The king's not dead, that's only summoning bells. One tower tolling. When the king dies, they ring every bell in the city." "Here, quit your biting, or I'll ring your bells," the woman in the window said to the man behind her, pushing him off with an elbow. "So who is it died, if not the king?" "It's a summoning," the fat man repeated. Two boys close to Arya's age scampered past, splashing through a puddle. The old woman cursed them, but they kept right on going. Other people were moving too, heading up the hill to see what the noise was about. Arya ran after the slower boy. "Where you going?" she shouted when she was right behind him. "What's happening?" He glanced back without slowing. "The gold cloaks is carryin' him to the sept." "Who?" she yelled, running hard. "The Hand! They'll be taking his head off, Buu says." A passing wagon had left a deep rut in the street. The boy leapt over, but Arya never saw it. She tripped and fell, face first, scraping her knee open on a stone and smashing her fingers when her hands hit the hard-packed earth. Needle tangled between her legs. She sobbed as she struggled to her knees. The thumb of her left hand was covered with blood. When she sucked on it, she saw that half the thumbnail was gone, ripped off in her fall. Her hands throbbed, and her knee was all bloody too. "Make way!" someone shouted from the cross street. "Make way for my lords of Redwyne!" It was all Arya could do to get out of the road before they ran her down, four guardsmen on huge horses, pounding past at a gallop. They wore checked cloaks, blue-and-burgundy. Behind them, two young lordlings rode side by side on a pair of chestnut mares alike as peas in a pod. Arya had seen them in the bailey a hundred times; the Redwyne twins, Ser Horas and Ser Hobber, homely youths with orange hair and square, freckled faces. Sansa and Jeyne Poole used to call them Ser Horror and Ser Slobber, and giggle whenever they caught sight of them. They did not look funny now. Everyone was moving in the same direction, all in a hurry to see what the ringing was all about. The bells seemed louder now, clanging, calling. Arya joined the stream of people. Her thumb hurt so bad where the nail had broken that it was all she could do not to cry. She bit her lip as she limped along, listening to the excited voices around her. "—the King's Hand, Lord Stark. They're carrying him up to Baelor's Sept." "I heard he was dead." "Soon enough, soon enough. Here, I got me a silver stag says they lop his head off." "Past time, the traitor." The man spat. Arya struggled to find a voice. "He never—" she started, but she was only a child and they talked right over her. "Fool! They ain't neither going to lop him. Since when do they knick traitors on the steps of the Great Sept?" "Well, they don't mean to anoint him no knight. I heard it was Stark killed old King Robert. Slit his throat in the woods, and when they found him, he stood there cool as you please and said it was some old boar did for His Grace." "Ah, that's not true, it was his own brother did him, that Renly, him with his gold antlers." "You shut your lying mouth, woman. You don't know what you're saying, his lordship's a fine true man." By the time they reached the Street of the Sisters, they were packed in shoulder to shoulder. Arya let the human current carry her along, up to the top of Visenya's Hill. The white marble plaza was a solid mass of people, all yammering excitedly at each other and straining to get closer to the Great Sept of Baelor. The bells were very loud here. Arya squirmed through the press, ducking between the legs of horses and clutching tight to her sword stick. From the middle of the crowd, all she could see were arms and legs and stomachs, and the seven slender towers of the sept looming overhead. She spotted a wood wagon and thought to climb up on the back where she might be able to see, but others had the same idea. The teamster cursed at them and drove them off with a crack of his whip. Arya grew frantic. Forcing her way to the front of the crowd, she was shoved up against the stone of a plinth. She looked up at Baelor the Blessed, the septon king. Sliding her stick sword through her belt, Arya began to climb. Her broken thumbnail left smears of blood on the painted marble, but she made it up, and wedged herself in between the king's feet. That was when she saw her father. Lord Eddard stood on the High Septon's pulpit outside the doors of the sept, supported between two of the gold cloaks. He was dressed in a rich grey velvet doublet with a white wolf sewn on the front in beads, and a grey wool cloak trimmed with fur, but he was thinner than Arya had ever seen him, his long face drawn with pain. He was not standing so much as being held up; the cast over his broken leg was grey and rotten. The High Septon himself stood behind him, a squat man, grey with age and ponderously fat, wearing long white robes and an immense crown of spun gold and crystal that wreathed his head with rainbows whenever he moved. Clustered around the doors of the sept, in front of the raised marble pulpit, were a knot of knights and high lords. Joffrey was prominent among them, his raiment all crimson, silk and satin patterned with prancing stags and roaring lions, a gold crown on his head. His queen mother stood beside him in a black mourning gown slashed with crimson, a veil of black diamonds in her hair. Arya recognized the Hound, wearing a snowy white cloak over his dark grey armor, with four of the Kingsguard around him. She saw Varys the eunuch gliding among the lords in soft slippers and a patterned damask robe, and she thought the short man with the silvery cape and pointed beard might be the one who had once fought a duel for Mother. And there in their midst was Sansa, dressed in sky-blue silk, with her long auburn hair washed and curled and silver bracelets on her wrists. Arya scowled, wondering what her sister was doing here, why she looked so happy. A long line of gold-cloaked spearmen held back the crowd, commanded by a stout man in elaborate armor, all black lacquer and gold filigree. His cloak had the metallic shimmer of true cloth-of-gold. When the bell ceased to toll, a quiet slowly settled across the great plaza, and her father lifted his head and began to speak, his voice so thin and weak she could scarcely make him out. People behind her began to shout out, "What?" and "Louder!" The man in the black-and-gold armor stepped up behind Father and prodded him sharply. You leave him alone! Arya wanted to shout, but she knew no one would listen. She chewed her lip. Her father raised his voice and began again. "I am Eddard Stark, Lord of Winterfell and Hand of the King," he said more loudly, his voice carrying across the plaza, "and I come before you to confess my treason in the sight of gods and men." "No," Arya whimpered. Below her, the crowd began to scream and shout. Taunts and obscenities filled the air. Sansa had hidden her face in her hands. Her father raised his voice still higher, straining to be heard. "I betrayed the faith of my king and the trust of my friend, Robert," he shouted. "I swore to defend and protect his children, yet before his blood was cold, I plotted to depose and murder his son and seize the throne for myself. Let the High Septon and Baelor the Beloved and the Seven bear witness to the truth of what I say: Joffrey Baratheon is the one true heir to the Iron Throne, and by the grace of all the gods, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm." A stone came sailing out of the crowd. Arya cried out as she saw her father hit. The gold cloaks kept him from falling. Blood ran down his face from a deep gash across his forehead. More stones followed. One struck the guard to Father's left. Another went clanging off the breastplate of the knight in the black-and-gold armor. Two of the Kingsguard stepped in front of Joffrey and the queen, protecting them with their shields. Her hand slid beneath her cloak and found Needle in its sheath. She tightened her fingers around the grip, squeezing as hard as she had ever squeezed anything. Please, gods, keep him safe, she prayed. Don't let them hurt my father. The High Septon knelt before Joffrey and his mother. "As we sin, so do we suffer," he intoned, in a deep swelling voice much louder than Father's. "This man has confessed his crimes in the sight of gods and men, here in this holy place." Rainbows danced around his head as he lifted his hands in entreaty. "The gods are just, yet Blessed Baelor taught us that they are also merciful. What shall be done with this traitor, Your Grace?" A thousand voices were screaming, but Arya never heard them. Prince Joffrey . . . no, King Joffrey . . . stepped out from behind the shields of his Kingsguard. "My mother bids me let Lord Eddard take the black, and Lady Sansa has begged mercy for her father." He looked straight at Sansa then, and smiled, and for a moment Arya thought that the gods had heard her prayer, until Joffrey turned back to the crowd and said, "But they have the soft hearts of women. So long as I am your king, treason shall never go unpunished. Ser Ilyn, bring me his head!" The crowd roared, and Arya felt the statue of Baelor rock as they surged against it. The High Septon clutched at the king's cape, and Varys came rushing over waving his arms, and even the queen was saying something to him, but Joffrey shook his head. Lords and knights moved aside as he stepped through, tall and fleshless, a skeleton in iron mail, the King's Justice. Dimly, as if from far off, Arya heard her sister scream. Sansa had fallen to her knees, sobbing hysterically. Ser Ilyn Payne climbed the steps of the pulpit. Arya wriggled between Baelor's feet and threw herself into the crowd, drawing Needle. She landed on a man in a butcher's apron, knocking him to the ground. Immediately someone slammed into her back and she almost went down herself. Bodies closed in around her, stumbling and pushing, trampling on the poor butcher. Arya slashed at them with Needle. High atop the pulpit, Ser Ilyn Payne gestured and the knight in black-and-gold gave a command. The gold cloaks flung Lord Eddard to the marble, with his head and chest out over the edge. "Here, you!" an angry voice shouted at Arya, but she bowled past, shoving people aside, squirming between them, slamming into anyone in her way. A hand fumbled at her leg and she hacked at it, kicked at shins. A woman stumbled and Arya ran up her back, cutting to both sides, but it was no good, no good, there were too many people, no sooner did she make a hole than it closed again. Someone buffeted her aside. She could still hear Sansa screaming. Ser Ilyn drew a two-handed greatsword from the scabbard on his back. As he lifted the blade above his head, sunlight seemed to ripple and dance down the dark metal, glinting off an edge sharper than any razor. Ice, she thought, he has Ice! Her tears streamed down her face, blinding her. And then a hand shot out of the press and closed round her arm like a wolf trap, so hard that Needle went flying from her hand. Arya was wrenched off her feet. She would have fallen if he hadn't held her up, as easy as if she were a doll. A face pressed close to hers, long black hair and tangled beard and rotten teeth. "Don't look!" a thick voice snarled at her. "I . . . I . . . I . . . " Arya sobbed. The old man shook her so hard her teeth rattled. "Shut your mouth and close your eyes, boy." Dimly, as if from far away, she heard a . . . a noise . . . a soft sighing sound, as if a million people had let out their breath at once. The old man's fingers dug into her arm, stiff as iron. "Look at me. Yes, that's the way of it, at me." Sour wine perfumed his breath. "Remember, boy?" It was the smell that did it. Arya saw the matted greasy hair, the patched, dusty black cloak that covered his twisted shoulders, the hard black eyes squinting at her. And she remembered the black brother who had come to visit her father. "Know me now, do you? There's a bright boy." He spat. "They're done here. You'll be coming with me, and you'll be keeping your mouth shut." When she started to reply, he shook her again, even harder. "Shut, I said." The plaza was beginning to empty. The press dissolved around them as people drifted back to their lives. But Arya's life was gone. Numb, she trailed along beside . . . Yoren, yes, his name is Yoren. She did not recall him finding Needle, until he handed the sword back to her. "Hope you can use that, boy." "I'm not—" she started. He shoved her into a doorway, thrust dirty fingers through her hair, and gave it a twist, yanking her head back. "—not a smart boy, that what you mean to say?" He had a knife in his other hand. As the blade flashed toward her face, Arya threw herself backward, kicking wildly, wrenching her head from side to side, but he had her by the hair, so strong, she could feel her scalp tearing, and on her lips the salt taste of tears.

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