[TheLucky13] 39.2 - 13 moments in time you'd change if you could and why.

1) I'd duck.
2) I'd stay home.
3) I'd turn around.
4) I'd walk away.
5) I'd wait.
6) I'd pick someone else.
7) I'd leave.
8) I'd stay.
9) I'd say it first.
10) I wouldn't be afraid.
11) I'd run.
12) I'd go back.
13) I wouldn't change a thing.

[WM] 74.1.G

"I don't want to live my life as others have done, where it just becomes an endless fear of dying."



She’d taken pretty good care of her weapons, all things considered. They’d served her well, and they deserve to be put away with some measure of respect, she supposed.

She took the day off to take care of it, not that there was much that demanded her attention. A guest list to finalize that could wait until tomorrow. Invitations to be sent out after that. They could wait one more day. She meandered around the house, opened drawers and cabinets, picking up every dagger and stake she had, for whatever reason at the time, stashed there. She cleaned and sharpened and oiled the blades, reminded herself that it would need to be done on occasion to keep them from falling into disrepair. Sanded away any splintered places on the stakes, carved the end a little sharper if it was necessary, tested the weight on each one before she put it away. She picked up the swords and axes she kept in the coat closet by the front door, took her time caring for the blades, just as she had done with the knives. She found her crossbow and repaired the spring, tinkered with it until the glitch in the firing mechanism was smoothed out. She was going to miss that stupid thing. Crossbows weren’t the most practical of weapons, but she'd always had fun with them.

She arranged them just so in the cabinet that she’d insisted on purchasing for just this purpose, but scarcely used, partly because she was and always had been on the scatterbrained side, and partly because it had honestly been easier to keep them like that, scattered around the house. Something had always been within easy reach, when she needed it.

She wasn’t going to need them anymore. She told herself, repeatedly, that she was not putting them away like this as a ‘just in case.’ If she left the door open even a crack, she feared it would blow open again and pull her back out into the dark. She wasn’t doing that. She was putting the metaphorical chairs up on the tables, mopping the floors, flipping off the lights and locking the door to the life of a Slayer behind her.

She didn’t want to be like the others. She didn’t want to fight and fight and fight until she died, or become so exhausted that she was all but begging the next monster to kill her. She was putting an end to that cycle, right now.

But it was always going to be a part of her. A part of her life that had been important, and special, and big. It shouldn’t be forgotten. It should be respected, remembered. That once upon a time, she'd been a hero.

She shut the cabinet, and went to the bathroom, and washed the oil and the last traces of that life off of her hands, and prayed that when the night came and rattled at that door, she would be strong enough to resist the call.

Oh, why not. From Devon and Sylar and possibly someone else earlier. I'm tired and can't think.

1) Go here to generate 10 random numbers between 1 and 100. DO THIS FIRST.

2) Then I will answer the corresponding questions from here.

(no subject)

I don't know what to do with myself now.