following his own rules and his own code

anonymous asked:

Ok, let's try another (most likely longer) one. How would you "fix" Natsu and Erza?

Holy shit man, why not just ask me to rebuild the Parthenon? Alright, here goes. It should say something that I’m prefacing this with a MAJOR SALT WARNING. For length purposes, I’m only going to do Natsu in this ask–send another one for Erza’s. Here are five ways to rebuild Natsu from the ground up.

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

can you explain the alignments using firefly characters?


LG - Shepherd Book (important to note his character transitioned from LE to this alignment) believes in law and order but also wants to genuinely help people

NG - Wash. Sure he’s a bandit but he doesn’t hurt people and he lives by the rules the captain sets; has a tendency to stay out of the shenanigans

CG - Kaylee. She’s 100% aware that they are breaking laws. She’s 100% okay with that. She’s a good person who doesn’t like suffering or cruelty.

LN - Inara. She disapproves of the crew’s unlawful conduct, and only tolerates it because of personal desperation. She obeys the law and her own personal code of conduct, along with the rules of the Companion order. She does not judge others, nor does she take a moral standing.

TN - Mal. He does what needs to be done. He’s a good man, except for when he’s not. He lives by his own code and he will die by his own code. 

CN - River. She does not follow any laws or codes of conduct. She does not take orders. Morally, she has a balance of light and dark.

LE - The Operative. He never asks questions. He obeys orders and expects complete obedience. He willingly and knowingly does evil things to people.

NE - Niska. He doesn’t care about rules, he cares about power. He is willing to do incredibly evil things, and he delights in them. He employed others who will obey him and do wicked things in his name.

CE - Saffron. She doesn’t care about anyone but herself, she’s an outlaw and she does whatever it takes to get ahead, even though she’s never really “ahead”. This kind of cruel selfishness is a hallmark of a CE character

bonus: even more evil, beyond the regular scope of human morality, are the reavers. beings of pure, unfiltered rage, violence, destruction.

I had an idea so I wrote a thing. Enjoy the Bethyl goodness!

Beth Greene stood at the prison gates staring out at the empty gravel road that lead away from their make shift home, watching as the sun slowly lowered over the horizon. The cool autumn air was filled with the sound of roaming walkers, their moans carrying in the light breeze. She clung to the inner fence, knuckles turning white from the force of her grip. They were late.

Daryl and Michonne had gone of what they said would be a simple run, promising to return by nightfall, that had been four days ago. In the old world running to the store for a jug of milk or loaf of bread was something nobody thought twice about. In this new world things were very different, runs were planned days, sometimes weeks in advance, lists carefully made of only the necessities and even then there was no guarantee that they would be found. People were armed to the teeth with multiple weapons and nobody was to go alone. Buildings were cleared before you could even begin the search, walkers were not the only threat in this world. Everything was carefully planned out down to the very last detail. Mistakes would get you killed.

Runs were done in groups of four to five people, sometimes more depending on the location. Daryl and Michonne were the exception to this rule. They played by their own rules and followed their own code. Nobody once questioned the fierce hunter and warrior who did so much to keep them safe and fed.

Beth had noticed Daryl when they first arrived on the farm. His gaze piercing right through her very soul as introductions were made, a scowl seemingly etched onto his hardened features. His stance was defensive and guarded, silently observing from afar. She was winded and covered in the thick sticky blood of the young boy Otis had carried in. Curious about the strange group, she’d followed her father out to greet them, he’d dismissed her immediately after introductions were made, clearly upset that she’d ventured out into the yard. As she retreated back into the farmhouse to check on the boy, who’s name she learned was Carl, raised voices drifted from the yard into the empty structure.

After a few days things returned to a relative sense of normality, Otis’ loss had hit them hard. He was a kind man and a hard worker, he’d become a part of the Greene family. Still life on the farm went on. The sun had just begun to rise, its first rays beginning to peak over the horizon, piercing through the thin mist that sat low along the earth. Beth walked through the lush grass, sparkling dew clinging tightly to its blades, with the intentions of feeding the horses and getting a head start on mucking the stables and the other chores that had began to pile up, that’s how she discovered the barn door askew.

Looters on a farm were nothing new before the disease hit, bandits lurking in the woods looking for a quick meal, local kids fulling a bet or simply looking for a cheap thrill, animals raiding the grain and hay and occasionally slaughtering one of the livestock. In the new world the threats were more sever, there was no law, no one to enforce any sort of moral code and no one to answer to, walkers were not the only threat that lingered in the dark. Trending lightly she unsheathed her buck knife from its worn leather case attached securely to her belt, ready to face whatever was waiting for her within.

Inside was dark, save for a single overhead light in the middle of the aisle. A lone figure stood securing the saddle straps to a horse, her horse. Sticking to the shadows she crept closer, lowering her knife as his familiar features came into view. “Morin’” she said stepping into the light, without missing a beat he swung his crossbow off his back and had it pointed at her head.

“Christ girl, didn’ anyone teach ya not ta wander off by yaself?” he said returning the wicked looking crossbow had been returned to his back. Daryl she recalled his name to be, snapped, finally stopping his task to glare at her. Beth had to admit that up close he was rather intimidating. He’d straightened his posture showing his full height, broad shoulders and tanned arms thick with muscle from what could only be years of hard labor.

“Could say the same about you”

“Mind ya own damn business girl”

Despite is rough exterior, Beth was far from frightened of this man. He was a predator for sure but something in his eyes told her that he wouldn’t hurt her, he was a protector, not a murderer. He lashed out to drive others away and was clearly used to getting away with it, and this simply wouldn’t fly with her.

“Ma horse is ma business” she spat, laying her Georgian accent on thick, “Butcha know what? Take her if it means that damn much ta ya.” A knowing smirk crept across her face as she turned on her heel. The next time she would seen him was after he’d been shot with his own arrow after Nellie had thrown him down a ravine, and climbed to safety only to be shot in the head by the tall blonde with a big mouth and terrible aim.

Winter on the road had been a long and brutal one. Her days were spent trending to her father and Queen Lori, whose stomach had triple in size, keeping the fire going in whatever place they had holed up in and trying to throw together a meager meal out of whatever it was they had managed to scavenge. This made her interactions with him limited, if at all. The long winter winter months blurred together in a frozen haze, not that she was looking to relive any of them. It wasn’t until the birth of Judith that she would speak to him again. Until the birth of Judith.

Judith came into the world, against all odds, in perfect health with an impressive set of lungs. The birth had been violent to say the least, with Carl having to put an end to his own mothers life. Lori had been fully conscious as Maggie sliced into her swollen belly to deliver the baby and there was no doubt she felt every second of the ordeal. The sight of a blood soaked Maggie stepping into the prison courtyard, the babe held tightly against her chest, had been his undoing. He lost himself deep in the bowels of the prison, leaving Beth to mother his infant daughter. A job she took without complaint.

While she was left to take on the role of mother, it was Daryl who played the role of father. While the baby had been delivered in perfect health, without formula she would not be able to survive longer then a few hours. Daryl had stepped up immediately, refusing to lose another person. With Maggie in tow he took off towards the nearest town in search of formula and other necessitates.

Beth had passed off the child to Daryl upon his return, to prepare a bottle for the little one. The little girl instantly taking to him, she stood in awe, silent tears running down her face, as she watched the interaction between Daryl and the baby he’d lovingly dubbed Lil’ Asskicker. He made a point of visiting the little girl he was so taken with every day, even if just for a few moments. With Judith having taken up permanent residence in her cell, Beth found herself seeing more and more of the stoic hunter.

At first their interactions were brief and awkward, consisting only of a few nods and polite words they felt obligated to exchange. As she grew more comfortable around him she would try to initiate conversation, sometimes she would talk to him about the baby or other small things, others they would sit there in a comfortable silence, on rare occasions he would chime in with a story or comment of his own. Over time she found that the silent redneck had found a special place in her heart.

When Daryl had first told her about the run she had insisted they take another person, fear and another emotion she couldn’t place running through her body. Promising her that he would return safely, he offered her one final glance he kicked his bike into gear and she watched as it rolled through the prison gates.

She had gone to Rick, who had made significant improvements since Lori’s death, immediately when they were late returning from the run. While he was concerned, he didn’t find it necessary to send a group out right away, reluctantly she agreed with Rick, knowing that she was over reacting. But as days passed her concern grew more and more, and apparently so did Rick’s, for when she approached him once again he agreed to send a group out at first light. This is how she found herself staring through the cool metal links of the chain link fence, watching and waiting for her hunter to return.

Before she had time to dwell on the fact that she had just called Daryl hers two bright shinning lights appeared in the distance, the setting sun leaving just enough light to reveal the dust that was kicked up as a vehicle barreled its way down the road. Her heart dropped in the pit of her stomach as the old blue Ford grew closer, its horn blaring the signal decided upon should they unexpectedly need to change cars. Something had happened.

Beth took off in full sprint as the truck sped through the now open gates and straight up to the main entrance, its brakes squealing as it came to a hault, Daryl’s bike secured in its bed.

Rick, along with most of the prisons inhabitants, had wandered out into the yard to investigate the commotion, meeting Michonne as she stepped out of the cab.

“There was a herd”

Beth felt her heart breaking as the words came pouring out a Michonne’s mouth, Rick’s face turned ashen as he spoke the name of the hunter she so desperately longed to see, “Daryl?”

“M'fine” an annoyed voice called from the still open door of the cab, the custom tinted windows making it nearly impossible to see that there was another person inside.

Michonne smirked, leaning against the heated metal of the hood, “The ballerina here slipped in some walker blood and managed to stab himself with his own knife.”

“Saved ya ass didn’ I?” he growled.

“Would have been back sooner but he refused to leave the bike behind” she chuckled. “He’ll need a few stitches but I reckon he’ll live” she said nodding to Herschel who had just hobbled out to join the group.

“It’s late and my eyes aren’t what they used to be, Bethy do you think you could take care of this for me?” He asked, all eyes now turning to the small blonde who had been lurking quietly in the shadows.

“Of course Daddy”

Being touched, babied, and injured where high on Daryl’s list of things that pissed him the hell off. Between his injuries, that had finally decided to stop hemorrhaging, Michonne’s smart ass comments, and the conversation going on around him as though be wasn’t even there, Daryl was seething.

As the passenger side of the old truck opened, Daryl expected to see a crowd of people surrounding him, to his surprise he found only the blue eyed blonde staring back at him. She didn’t speak as he made to step out of the truck, letting him take the lead and silently dictate her movements as they made the trek inside the prison and up to the perch that he had claimed as his own.

Fear shot through him as she quietly asked him to remove his shirt before retreating back down the stairs, presumably to retrieve the items she deemed necessary in caring for his wounds.

His fingers shook as he slowly worked the buttons of the worn, and now blood soaked, cotton flannel, unhooking the final one as she ascended the final stair.

“Can I?” she asked, eyeing the fabric not hanging loosely from his broad shoulders. Nodding, his head dropped in shame as her small hands worked the material down his arms, removing the final barrier that hid the patchwork quilt of scars his father had engraved on him.

He trembled as her cool fingers brushed against his heated skin, her touch gentle as she expertly tended to the evidence of his own stupidity. It wasn’t until he was sure she was engrossed in her task that he dared glance at her.

Her hair was pulled back, signature braid hanging over her shoulder. Stubborn strands of hair to short to be tucked back hung loosely in her face, dangling in front of those crystal blue eyes which furrowed as she worked, tongue hanging slightly out of her mouth.

He’d be lying if he said he’d really noticed her before the prison. On the farm he vaguely remembered hearing something about a suicide attempt but he’d been to focused on trying the find the little girl he’d failed to save to really pay attention, and on the road she’d been just another mouth to feed.

When AK was born he’d immediately fallen for the little girl, from the second he saw her, he vowed to do anything and everything to keep her happy and healthy. He visited with her often and consequently, with the baby taking up residence in Beth’s cell, found himself spending more time with the girl forced to mother the child that wasn’t hers while the father was off chasing ghosts.

At first their interactions were brief and awkward at best. He would linger in the doorway waiting to be invited in, and would stay only for a little while, not feeling comfortable in the enclosed space that wasn’t his. Beth never once asked why he was there or how long he was staying, she would simply offer him and inviting smile and nod before returning to whatever task she had been working on.

He quickly found his visits becoming longer, sometimes they would sit in comfortable silence, others he would listen as she sang to Judith or offered stories from her past life. On rare occasion he’d share a bit of information of his own, she never once pried for more, simply accepting what he’d offered and for that he was grateful.

Over time he would learn that, despite what others thought, she had been a hard working farm girl and had the scars to prove it. That she had been ignored most of her life, over shadowed by her older brother, Shawn, and Maggie. That two years prior to the end of the world Beth had been attacked one night while reading in a hayloft of the barn they would eventually use to store the reanimated corpses of their loved ones. His fists had clenched as she spoke of the farm hand who had trapped her, how she fought him off, how her brother was the only one she had even told of the encounter.

She shared how much she had loved her brother and told him of Shawn’s passing less than a week before it all began. His heart felt heavy with guilt as he learned how she’d never really grieved his loss and that when she saw her mother laying in a pool of her own blood after being shot in the head she’d simply lost it. The weight of everything coming crashing down on her.

Slowly he came to realize that his now regular visits to her cell where no longer to see Judith alone, but to spend time with Beth Greene.

Beth’s angelic voice, claiming she was finished, pulled him back from his thoughts. Presenting him with a clean shirt, she offered him a chaste kiss on the cheek before bidding him a goodnight and leaving him to his thought. Buttoning his shirt, he watched as she disappeared down the metal steps. He knew she’d seen his scars, but would not speak of them, it just wasn’t her way. She’d wait until he came to her, if he came to her, and would listen as he told his tail.

Laying back on the mattress he’d jacked from a random cell, he stared at the moonlight now seeping through the prisons windows. Perhaps one day he’d tell her the stories of each one. Perhaps he’d tell her how he’d stumbled over his own feet when he saw a walker with golden blonde hair and a face resembling hers. How his blood ran cold and his heart stopped. How he’d fallen on his knife when his brain stopped processing the scene in front of him, thinking for a few fearful seconds that she was gone.

Perhaps one day he’d tell her how she’d broken past every barrier and permanently engraved herself on his heart.