#*rises from the dead* and we can hear will screaming from hell through the lake

[shinewonder]

what if.. mikepurg, but toysnhk is just a representation of cc made up by mike because of his guilt and the lake is a door to the actual afterlife and mike forgives himself and drowning ending is heaven and *gets murdered*

[maddiewritesstucky]

Whenever You’re Ready

I am equal parts excited and terrified to share this story with you all. This one is very special to me, and it has been an Emotional Experience putting these words to page, so far removed from what I usually write. Huge acknowledgement to @doctorenterprise whose honest critiques vastly improved this story, and @buckyandthejets who validated the hell out of me, thank you both so much 😘

Rating: Explicit

Pairing: Steve/Bucky (Modern AU)

Word count: 5189

Tags: Angst, infidelity (not between Steve/Bucky), heavy on the feels, reference to past internalized homophobia, lost love, reunions, emotional sex, happy ending

*CW: Infidelity - In this story, Bucky has sex with Steve even though he is (unhappily) married to someone else. Please avoid this story if you will find this triggering, or feel free to DM me if you need more details. It all ends well!*

***

“Never changes, does it?” 

 It goes straight to Steve’s bones, that voice, all the way down to his marrow. He doesn’t turn around at the sound of it, nor at the muted clunk of footsteps on the dock behind him; slowly closing the distance to where Steve’s standing, thinking. 

Waiting.

He’s been out here long enough to have watched the sun disappear behind the mountainous horizon, taking with it its warmth and making way for the quiet chill of evening to set in. It’s far enough away here, from the music and revelry and reminiscence, that Steve can almost pretend those words are true; that nothing’s changed, that there’s nothing and no one else in existence but the two of them, and the reflection of the moon rising over the lake. 

“Some things do.” 

It comes out bitter, even though Steve’s spent years telling himself he’s not; that the pit in his stomach and the hole in his chest have a different name, a different face. It’s a pointless grief, after so many years. Decades, now, as the banners and balloons up at the reunion were boasting.

He knew what he was doing, coming here tonight. Like pushing on a bruise to make sure it still hurts. And it did, it does, because Bucky is right - the camp hasn’t changed a bit, and Steve might be pushing forty now but his heart is still nineteen; still standing at the end of this dock at sundown waiting for those footsteps behind him, for that warm hand slipping into his and that familiar voice saying his name like it’s music, like it means something.

“Steve…” 

...There’s no hand, and his name is just a name. It aches in the exact place Steve had thought it would.

“She’s pretty, Buck. You look good together.”  

He thinks he hears Bucky’s breath hitch, but it could have been the breeze catching in the trees, or the lick of water at the splintered edge of the dock. It would be easier if it were a lie, might sit sweeter on Steve’s tongue if he were sugar coating something false, something to say for the sake of speaking, but he means it. 

That aches, too.

“I married her,” Bucky says, and the way it sounds like an apology sinks like a lead weight in Steve’s gut.

“I heard.” 

“Steve, will you please look at me?” 

Despair frays the edges of each word, and Steve shakes his head, blows out a ragged breath into the cool night air. 

He had looked at Bucky, had watched him walk in tonight looking every bit like the man Steve always knew he’d grow into - strong, kind-eyed, beautiful; age starting to show in the soft flecks of grey at his temples, but missing from where Steve thought it’d make itself known first. 

“You don’t have smile lines,” he can hear the frown in his own voice as the thought slips past his lips, “always thought you’d have smile lines, way you were always laughing at everything.”  

“Steve...” 

It’s a sob, this time; unmistakable, and it rips the ground out from beneath Steve. 

There’s a hand on his back, slipping down the column of his spine; a shivering body pressing up close behind him and a forehead dropping against his shoulder. Tears soak wet through the back of Steve’s shirt and two arms circle around his waist, a hold long-forgotten and achingly familiar all at once, and Steve can’t remember how to breathe.

“Bucky,” he begins, though he has no idea where it ends.

His hands come up to cover Bucky’s, threading their fingers together and pulling Bucky’s arms tighter around himself, and it feels nothing like it used to because Steve’s heart wasn’t broken back then. 

When Bucky’s lips find the crook of his neck, that doesn’t feel anything like it used to either, but Steve tilts his head for it anyway; offers up the expanse of his throat like he’d once offered up the rest of his life to the man holding him. 

All of me, he’d said so long ago, every day of every year I have left. All for you.

Bucky’s hands slip to Steve’s hips, his mouth at the hinge of Steve’s jaw, and it’s so wholly selfish, the way Steve wants this. It’s years of longing and anger and loss made harder by all the ways Bucky wasn’t gone, and the tattered vestiges of Steve’s heart are screaming at him to stop before there’s nothing left of himself to salvage.

 “You left me.” 

There’s no emotion left in the statement, not anymore. It bled out years ago, muffled into Steve’s pillow and screamed into voids and hurled at the walls of his too-quiet, too-empty house. 

It’s hollow, now, but Steve feels how heavy it lands in the way Bucky’s entire body curls in on itself behind him.

“I know,” Bucky whispers, his tear-stained cheek tucked against the side of Steve’s face. 

The immensity of pain buried in those two words sinks jagged teeth into the meat of Steve’s heart, and he can’t believe he still bleeds for it after all these years. He knows he should walk away from this, pry himself free of the physical hold Bucky has on him and spend the rest of his days praying those soul-ties unknot themselves too. 

But the wound is open now, if it were ever really closed, and he can’t stop himself from tugging on the busted stitches to see just how raw and messy he can make it. 

“Tell me why,” he turns in the circle of Bucky’s arms, cups the back of Bucky’s neck and makes him meet the full force of his gaze. 

Give me salt for this wound, he’s pleading, and Bucky would have every right to deny him because this conversation has no place here; has no place in any universe where there’s a ring on Bucky’s finger. 

But Bucky came to him, Bucky broke the silence and put his hands on Steve like he’s just as hungry to hurt for this again, and maybe they both just need to bleed it out together. 

“Because we couldn’t,” Bucky twists his fists tight and frantic into the fabric of Steve’s shirt. “I couldn’t...Jesus, if my family had found out—” 

“I loved you,” Steve spits, “it was real, and I loved you, and you loved me too.” 

“Fuck, Steve, of course I loved you!” There’s desperation there now, in Bucky’s hands on him; not just clinging but clawing, no space between them for air or reason or good judgement. “You think it didn’t break me, too?” 

“I wouldn’t fucking know what it did to you, Bucky,” Steve runs a fingertip across the plain gold band hugging Bucky’s finger, digging his nail in under the ridge of it, “but it seems like you bounced back just fine.” 

Bucky sucks in a breath, and Steve doesn’t hear him let it go again. He’s doing nothing to mask the anguish on his face as he stares up at Steve, lips parted and eyes welling over; his brow knotted into lines that form all too easy, like they’re well worn at this point, and it’s so so wrong. 

Steve smoothes his thumb over the groove between Bucky’s eyebrows; pushes at it like it’s something he can rub away. 

“Aren’t you happy?” he hears himself ask, hurt and exhausted and terrified of the answer. 

It’s not until Bucky shakes his head, tears spilling anew from his red-rimmed eyes, that Steve realizes there was any part of himself left that was yet to break.

“Not a day of my life, Steve. Not without you.” 

Steve will never be emptier than this, seeing the truth of it all spelled out across Bucky’s face. It had been all the light Steve had left, that small embittered part of himself that’d believed Bucky was better off for the way things had gone. 

What was left, now? It had burned Steve down to ash, losing Bucky, but loving him was inextricable, and thinking he was happy out there was the only reason Steve could sleep at night.

“What do I do with that, Buck?” 

There are tears in Steve’s eyes now too, a tremble in his voice and the dead weight of regret hanging off his words. 

Bucky takes Steve’s face between his hands, too tight to be tender. When he sweeps his thumbs across the tears tracking down Steve’s cheeks, it only spreads them further. 

“Kiss me?” 

Bucky leaves it in the space between them like it’s the only answer he has left, and Steve wishes it didn’t make sense. 

 Another place, another time; a different dock and a different sky, and Steve might see the insanity of it, the notion that putting his lips against Bucky’s could be a salve instead of just another scar. 

But they’re here, with those same stars and that same rundown boat shed with it’s broken door, and Steve lets himself close the distance between their mouths, because it’s the only answer he has left, too.

He kisses Bucky with every minute of every day of every wasted year sitting there on the tip of his tongue. He holds Bucky too close and breathes him in too deep, leans all too willing into the pass of Bucky’s hands over his body.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” Bucky sobs brokenly, slipping his hands up under the hem of Steve’s shirt to splay across his bare skin. 

Steve shakes his head because he can’t hear that now, with Bucky’s hands on him. Remorse can’t coexist with the warmth of Bucky’s palms and the slick press of his mouth, not when there isn’t even room for moonlight between them. 

“Don’t,” Steve whispers, “don’t tell me that.”

Bucky’s hand finds its way up to the center of Steve’s chest, his fingertips curling into a grip on Steve’s flesh like he can reach in and take hold of what lies beneath. Steve’s not sure there’s anything left in there to grab onto, but he lets Bucky try anyway because if there is, it will only ever belong in his hand. 

“Can I tell you I still think of you?” Bucky kisses the words against Steve’s cheek, trails them down the line of his jaw. “Never stopped thinking about you, Steve.” 

You should have, is what Steve should say, you’re not mine anymore.

“Someone will see us,” is what Steve does say, even as his fingertips dip beneath the waistband of Bucky’s pants. 

Someone is probably looking for Bucky right now, but there’s no room for that truth here, either. Especially when Bucky pulls back and looks toward the long abandoned boat shed, and then back at Steve.

There are so many opportunities for Steve to choose differently, to tell Bucky to stop. When Bucky takes him by the hand with a plea in his gaze; when he pulls Steve down the dock, and into that boat shed...it’s been a lifetime and Steve is a grown man, too old to be this foolish. But he’s tired, too worn down from years of unmet longing to be anything other than reckless when presented with everything he’s lived without for so painfully long. 

So he doesn’t say a word. 

He lets it happen, and he helps it happen. He raises his arms for Bucky to pull off his shirt, tilts his hips when Bucky works his belt loose and tugs down his pants. 

He strips Bucky bare with his own two hands and pulls him against his own naked body, sobbing open and unashamed for the way it makes him feel whole for the first time in twenty years. 

He maps the planes of Bucky’s body, no longer rounded and softened by youth, but every bit as warm as the memories Steve has clung to, and it shouldn’t feel right because it isn’t; shouldn’t feel so familiar when there’s been decades of distance between them. 

“I miss you.” 

It trips off Steve’s tongue before he can stop it, small and breathless. Of all the three-word truths he could have let slip it isn’t the worst, but Bucky’s wounded noise says that it cuts just as deep. 

He catches Bucky’s lips against his own before Bucky can do anything stupid like say it back; fisting his hands up through Bucky’s hair and pushing his tongue into Bucky’s mouth.

He wants to do this slow, to sink deep enough into it that every touch and every moment cling to him like a brand. But it’s only ever been a headlong tumble, this journey that begins with Bucky’s bare skin against his own, and Steve can feel himself falling the same way he always did.

Open palms turn to pressing fingertips, lips on skin turn to grazing teeth, and a dusty hammock spread across the floorboards. It’s another twist of the knife, the way Bucky’s body still fits beneath his own just as perfect as it ever did, the way Bucky’s spread thighs still make the perfect cradle for his hips. 

Bucky still looks up at him from the flat of his back with the same awe he’d turn upon the night sky, like Steve’s still the only heaven he believes in, and there’s too much gravity in that gaze. There always was, but there was no reason not to get dragged into it back then. 

It’s not until Bucky’s fingertips brush softly over his eyelids, tracing the sweep of his lashes, that Steve realizes he’s closed his eyes.

“What are you thinking about?” Bucky whispers.

Steve almost wants to laugh, because if he were thinking at all, he wouldn’t be here. 

He’s not laid out naked on top of someone else’s husband because he’s thinking; not about to put his mouth and his fingers and his cock where they don’t belong because he’s in his right mind. 

Steve is an exposed nerve, a callous that’s been rubbed raw, and he’ll pretend that’s all he is for as long as it takes to see the man he never stopped loving fall apart beneath him one last time.

He buries his face in the crook of Bucky’s neck and bites down on the softness he finds there, all the answer he intends on giving. There’s no good reason for him to still know the exact spot to sink his teeth into, but he’s not about to waste time pretending he doesn’t remember every last touch point that ever made Bucky lose his mind. 

His right earlobe, the notch of his clavicle, the tender space beneath his ribs. 

His hip bones, and his wrists, and the soft insides of his thighs, sensitive all the way down to his knees.

Maybe after all this time it’s only nostalgia, only because they both want so badly to be who they once were to each other. But Bucky’s body still sings the exact same tune when Steve plays it, tongue and teeth and fingertips in all the right places.

“Please,” Bucky gasps, giving over to it just as easy as he always did. He’s hiding nothing of himself, not in the sprawl of his body or the longing in his gaze, the breathless sounds dripping off his lips. 

He arches into the rub of Steve’s skin against his, splays his thighs wide for Steve’s hips then wider still for Steve’s shoulders, and he looks down the line of his body with all the same rapture when Steve finally takes him into the heat of his mouth.

“Oh...” 

It’s so soft, the sound Bucky makes. One tiny word, more breath than anything else, yet it somehow holds all the sentiment of of course, and how have I lived without this, and Steve is ruined for it. 

He’s sixteen again, realizing that want begins and ends with Bucky Barnes.

He is seventeen, discovering that the only thing better than getting his hands on Bucky, is getting his mouth on him. 

He is eighteen, and nineteen, and twenty; bone-deep certain that for him, there will only ever be Bucky.

“Stevie,” Bucky sighs. He reaches gentle fingertips to brush the hair back off Steve’s forehead; traces the stretch of Steve’s lips around him with all the tender wonder of their youth.

...Steve is thirty-nine, and he will never come back from this. 

He holds Bucky’s gaze as he swallows him down, watches the play of pleasure across Bucky’s face like it’s still his to behold. 

He sinks all of himself into chasing those awed, quiet sounds that have existed only as echoes for so long, and pretends it’s not the worst kind of cruelty that this act should still feel so sacred; that Bucky should still be that breathless, trembling embodiment of surrender. 

Back arched, thighs twitching, face flushed and lips parted…it’s as devastating as Steve remembers, and so much more so for the fact that he has no right to witness it anymore. 

“Steve, please...” 

Bucky looks down at him imploringly, reaches for him with open hands. 

Steve hollows his cheeks as he pulls off him, slow and tight. He crawls back up Bucky’s body until they’re face to face, until he’s covering Bucky’s body with his own.

“I’m here, Buck.” 

I’m weak, Buck.

He cups Bucky’s face in his hands, strokes his thumbs across Bucky’s cheekbones and nudges their noses together. He breathes Bucky’s air and kisses his lips, soft and careful until it’s not; until it’s just Steve pouring all his hunger and his longing and his desperation into Bucky’s mouth.

And he is desperate. Every last part of him is breaking for the feel of Bucky’s bare skin, his bare arousal, rubbing up against his own; for the responsibility of holding Bucky’s vulnerability and his nakedness and his pleasure in the palms of his hands.

“God, it’s been so long,” Steve’s voice splinters around the words, around the sobs that want to keep coming, “it’s been so long, Bucky...”

He rolls his hips heavy and deep, slips his hands beneath Bucky’s shoulders to keep them locked tight together. There’s sweat beading between them, spit and precum slicking their skin, and every promise they ever made weighing dense in the air. 

Bucky’s fingernails are sunk deep enough into his back that Steve can feel the half-moon imprints forming; Bucky’s legs hitched up around his hips and soft moans passing back and forth between their open mouths. 

Steve had always wondered what this must look like from the outside, the way they get lost in one another. The quiet gasps and heavy breaths, the pleasured sounds that catch between their lips. Bodies shaking, hands clinging, eyes open because it’s the closest thing to heaven you’d ever see. 

It’s immensity was always buried in the slowness of it all, but it’s as consuming and inevitable as it ever was. 

He knows Bucky’s close before Bucky tells him he is; can feel it thrumming through Bucky’s body beneath him. He knows he shouldn’t watch it happen, shouldn’t sharpen that mental picture back into focus when it had taken so long to blur its edges in the first place. 

He shouldn’t moan brokenly into Bucky’s mouth and rock harder against him; shouldn’t push up onto his hands and fix his gaze squarely on Bucky’s face.

‘Shouldn’t’ doesn’t mean a goddamn thing anymore.

“Come with me?” Bucky pleads, eyes glassy and body strung taut. 

He presses a trembling hand to Steve’s heart and the other to Steve’s neck, holding his racing pulse and his heartbeat in his hands just the same as he had the first time they made love, and Steve comes apart at the seams.

It’s unending, that wash of raw feeling. It’s galaxies inside his rib cage and oceans in his veins, and wildfire curling around the base of his spine. He breathes Bucky’s name, spills all over his stomach, and when Bucky follows him over he ducks down to drink the wonder of it right off Bucky’s lips. 

The quiet weighs so much heavier, as they lay pressed together in the aftermath. 

Steve looks down at the man beneath him, watches his breathing settle and the flush subside from his cheeks, and the ache of the past suddenly pales in comparison to what lies ahead. 

What exists for them beyond this moment, here and now? Bucky’s face is cradled in Steve’s hands and his nakedness is sheltered by Steve’s body, but even this was never Steve’s to offer. It’s time and touch already stolen, and the rhythmic lap of water against the dock outside may as well be the ticking of a clock.

“What happens now, Buck?” he asks, knowing there’s no comfort to be found in the answer. 

Bucky shakes his head, touching gentle fingertips to Steve’s cheek and searching Steve’s gaze. 

“I don’t know.”

The night air is cold against Steve’s back, all the warmth that had seemed to wrap so close around them dissipating. 

He slowly moves off of Bucky and gathers up their clothes, redressing himself with fingers that fumble weak and uncoordinated with the fabric that had been so very easy to take off. 

“...If you asked me to leave her, I would.” 

Bucky’s voice comes small from behind him, but the words take up every last inch of space in the room. 

Steve turns to look at him, and there’s something so painfully close to hope on his face, it makes Steve’s chest ache. 

“I can’t do that, Bucky,” he rasps, “it can’t be up to me.” 

The regret in it is palpable, the ‘I wish it was’ joining the thousand other things that live, unsaid, on the tip of Steve’s tongue.

I am so much yours that it hurts

I will never stop hoping for you 

I will love you for the rest of my life

It’s years too late, for all of it. But those words still throw themselves against the backs of Steve’s teeth, because if not now, then when?

 “Bucky, I—”

 “James?”

 ...The soft call comes from outside, carried on the breeze from a little ways off. 

There’s nothing in it, no suspicion, no concern. Just someone looking for the person they’ve lost, wondering where they’ve gone to. 

Steve’s stomach sinks, and the clock runs out.

Bucky looks at him, eyes wide and lips falling open like he intends to speak. No sound comes out, but Steve understands all the same - Bucky’s gaze always said more than words ever could, anyway.  

“You should go back, Buck.” 

Steve says it gently, though neither of them deserve that kindness after what they’ve done. He picks up his sweater, and he leaves what’s left of his heart on the floor, because he’s got no use for it without the man he’s about to walk away from. 

“If you ever…” Steve starts, and stops himself, shaking his head softly. His gaze sticks to the spot just in front of Bucky’s feet, his body half turned toward the door. 

“...You know where I’ll be,” he says instead, and then he gathers up his shoes in his hands and steps back out into the evening, because he’s no more capable of saying ‘goodbye’ to Bucky now than he was back then.

 ***

It’s a half hour walk home along the edge of the lakeshore, but it takes Steve hours; tears washing a salt-sting down his cheeks and his feet in the too-cold water the entire way.

It doesn’t even scratch the surface of what he deserves, that frigid needling against his skin and the stones underfoot. But the greater punishment will come, he knows.

When he gets home, and has to live the rest of his life knowing not only what he lost, but what he did to try and dull the ache of it. 

When he gets home, to that rambling, too-quiet house on the lake edge, where Bucky’s touch is set into the very foundations.

The roof they had helped Steve’s dad patch, the summer Steve turned eighteen; the creaking window ledge that would betray Bucky’s midnight visits to Steve’s bedroom, and that same kitchen table where they’d try not to blush at each other’s gaze. 

The porch swing where they’d watch the sun go down; every wall and doorframe they’d kissed up against when Steve’s parents weren’t around to see it; every tree they ever made love or fell asleep beneath...

He may not have seen Bucky in the flesh in almost twenty years, but there hasn’t been a day of Steve’s life since that he hasn’t felt the echo of his presence, and now it will hum under his skin the same way it always has in his house. 

The sky is awash with stars he can’t bear to look at by the time he makes it home, feet numb and shivering all over. 

He trudges the path from the lakeshore back up to his house, clearing the tree line and stepping into the moonlight spilling full and bright over his yard, over his homestead. 

Over the unfamiliar car parked in his dirt-track driveway, and the figure sitting, waiting, on his porch. 

“...Bucky?” 

His body slows in its tracks, stops halfway across the yard and won’t carry him any further forward. 

Bucky makes no move to close the distance between them either, save to stand slowly on unsteady legs and step down onto the silver-lit lawn. 

“Hey, Steve.”

His arms are curled around himself, his shoulders rounded and his feet shifting on the grass. Even in the moonlight, Steve can see the swell of too many tears shed around Bucky’s eyes, and he’d look like he was about to run if not for the set of his jaw; the unwavering hold of his gaze on Steve’s.

“Buck, what are you...how long have you—”

“I did it.” 

Bucky’s voice cracks - not like a heart breaking, but like a weight falling away, like a world upending, and it hits Steve like a blow to the back of the knees.

“You did what, Bucky?” 

He knows what he’s hearing, what Bucky has just laid before him, but he asks anyway because it can’t be that; that terrible, selfish thing that Steve has dreamed of and hoped for and hated himself for wanting all these years. 

Bucky can’t be here, standing under the light of the full moon, hours after they made love that was all passion and no integrity, telling Steve that.

Bucky takes a step forward, just one. Not close enough to touch, but close enough for Steve to see that he’s shaking.

“I told her, Steve. I told her what I did tonight...told her the truth about me.” 

“The truth...” 

Steve’s chest is crushing in on itself, the air between them so thin and fragile he’s afraid to breathe it in. 

Bucky wraps himself tighter in the circle of his own arms, shaking his head and dropping his gaze to the ground. 

“I was scared, Steve,” he whispers, “back then...We were kids, and I was so scared of what it meant, the way I felt about you. And I thought I could...make myself feel that, again. For someone else. Someone who was...” 

He blows out a shuddering breath, kicking at the ground in front of him.

“...Someone that everybody else would accept. But I couldn’t, Steve. I tried, I tried so fucking hard, and I thought that if I got married, then maybe...maybe it’d be better, because I’d have no choice but to love her. But I just...I couldn’t feel that again. I couldn’t, because I never fuckin’ stopped feeling it, for you.”

Steve aches, in every part of his being, all the way down in his soul. He stares at the man he’s loved his whole life, and he aches for the both of them; for the half-lives they’ve been living, tied to one another with string that had stretched when it would have been kinder to snap. 

“I got it so wrong, Steve,” Bucky sobs, his eyes screwing shut against free-flowing tears. “I chose so wrong. And I’m so sorry, I’m so fucking sorry…”

Steve’s body moves without thought, reaches and wraps itself around Bucky’s trembling frame; tight like he can save Bucky from this inevitable unraveling. 

“Jesus, Bucky,” he shakes his head, heartbreak spilling raw into his voice, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”

Bucky’s face is tucked into the crook of his neck and his tears are catching cold against Steve’s skin. But Steve’s own are falling into Bucky’s hair, and his hands are shaking too hard for their strokes up and down Bucky’s back to be any real comfort, and neither of them move to change a thing about it.  

“I’ve thought of you every day,” the confession slips quiet from Steve’s lips, and he lets it, “I’ve missed you, every day.” 

Bucky gasps a hitching breath into Steve’s shirt, holds tight to the fabric at his back. 

“Fuck, I got more to make up for here than I’ve got years left,” he shudders, pulling back to find Steve’s eyes. “I got no right to ask you for anything ever again, and I know I gotta put some things right first, get myself right, but...but would you ever...could we, ever…” 

Steve is nodding. Before Bucky’s even gotten the words out, Steve’s nodding. 

There are so many questions still to be asked and answered, so many conversations to be had and blows that are yet to land in the aftermath. The road that lies ahead is unpaved and unmapped, and the sunrise will shed light on realities they haven’t even considered. 

But none of that changes what Steve knows to be true, here and now. 

He knows that the window ledge still creaks; that that tree still bears more fruit than he knows what to do with, and the roof hasn’t once leaked, not during a single storm.

He knows that in any lifetime, any versions of themselves...they could. 

“Whenever you’re ready, Bucky,” come home when you’re ready, Bucky, “you know where I’ll be.” 

***

It takes time, just like Steve knew it would. 

It takes tears, and words that are just as hard to hear as they are to say. 

It’s wounds reopened just to be stitched back together better, right this time; stitched to heal instead of just to survive. 

Bucky is gone again, for a while, but his absence isn’t the bleak void it once was. It’s time apart for the sake of a life together, for both of them to rebuild what was broken and find a new sense of ‘whole.’ 

It’s Bucky finding his feet as the person he’s always been, and learning to speak his truth. It’s untangling himself from the life he was never meant to live, and finding forgiveness where it’s needed. 

It’s Steve ripping up those floorboards that creak, and it’s letting himself sleep. It’s replacing the wallpaper that was more peel than pattern, and it’s teaching himself to roll with the waves of joy and grief until he can sit just as comfortably with both.

It takes time; eight months and twenty-one days worth of it. 

But they heal, and Bucky finds his way home. 

And this time, it sticks.

[thebadgerclan]

Captivity

Pairing: Severus Snape x reader

Requested by Anonymous

Summary: His worst nightmare was coming true...

A/N: Set during the Deathly Hallows

I really enjoyed working on this, it might be one of my favorite things I’ve written 

His worst nightmare was playing out before his eyes.  In Severus’ hands was a photograph of you, his beloved wife, arms bound behind you, clothes dirty and torn, and eyes petrified.  The photo came in a letter that was on his nightstand this morning.  Severus, I may be old, but I am not stupid.  I know that you have been giving information to Dumbledore’s Order, I know that you have been acting as a double agent, and I know that you plan to continue to do so.  This cannot continue.  But rather than kill you, as I would so love to do, I have done something that I believe will be far more effective.

Your darling Y/N, the filthy mudblood that she is, is now under the careful watch of Bellatrix.  She has tried to escape only twice, the first time I took her wand, and the second  I gave her that lovely bruise you’ll see in the photograph I’ve enclosed.  Now, Severus, I give you a simple choice: You swear your allegiance to me, and your wife will be spared.  Refuse, and I kill her.  I expect you at the Manor at 8 o’clock exactly this coming Wednesday.  If you do not appear before me, Y/N’s head will be the next parcel you receive from me.

He gave himself only 10 minutes to break down, screaming and sobbing at the top of his lungs.  You were with Voldemort, you were essentially a prisoner.  He would kill you if Severus stepped out if line again, this was certain.  When the 10 minutes was up, Severus got to his feet, washed his face, and stood up straight.  Tomorrow, he would appear before Voldemort tomorrow, and he would do what he had to do.  He would renounce Dumbledore and swear his allegiance to the Dark Lord.

***

Severus had done this hundreds of times, but tonight, his heart was in his throat.  As he always did, he bowed deeply before Voldemort, kissing the hem of his robes.  “Rise, my friend,” the Dark Lord hissed, and Severus obeyed.  “I must confess, I was fearful I would not see you here tonight.”  “No, My Lord,” he said, preparing to grovel.  “I have made a grievous error, My Lord, and I cannot express my sorrow enough.  I swear to you tonight that I renounce Dumbledore, his Order, and everything they stand for.  I am your loyal servant, My Lord, until I die.”

Voldemort stood, and Severus fought the urge to shy away.  “There is something else you wish to add.  Say it.”  He breathed deeply.  “My Lord, if I may, I have a few conditions pertaining to my wife.”  Voldemort barked with laughter, and Severus braced for the Cruciatus.  “Ahh, Severus, Ever the romantic.  Fine, tell me what it is you wish.”  “I ask that Y/N is not harmed.  She has done nothing and does not deserve to be treated with cruelty.  And, if it is at all possible, may I see her?”

Silence met him, and he once more braced for pain.  But Voldemort touched Severus’ shoulder, surprisingly tender.  “Severus, my friend, I have always held you in such high regard.  If it were anyone else, they would be dead for simply asking.  But, I truly believe that you are loyal.  Wormtail, fetch her.”  The mouse of a man scampered out of the room, and Severus sighed in relief.  “Thank you, My Lord, you are most generous and kind.”

Moments later, Wormtail returned with you stumbling behind him.  You were thinner than Severus had last seen, though it had only been days, there were bags under your eyes and your hair was tangled.  You looked around the room fearfully, and Severus’ heart shattered.  “S-Severus?”  You made to run to him, but you cried out and fell to the floor.  “We have discussed this, Y/N,” Voldemort chided, his wand still pointed at you.  “I apologize, My Lord.”  “Very well.  Now, Severus, you see your wife is unharmed and well.  However, she will not be released back to you.”

“My Lord?”  “Oh honestly, Severus.  You couldn’t have thought I would cave so easily.  No, she will remain here until the war is over or your loyalties have been truly proven.”  He wanted to scream, to fight for you, but he knew that Voldemort could kill him with a mere thought, so he bowed.  “Of course, My Lord.”  Voldemort snapped his fingers at Wormtail.  “Take her.”  Wormtail grabbed your arms and began dragging you from the room.  “Severus!” you screamed, fighting with every ounce of your strength.  “Severus, please!  Severus!”  His heart shattered more than it already was.  He wanted to run after you, to hold you close and tell you it would be alright.  But he couldn’t.

***

Weeks passed.  Every day was the same.  Severus would terrorize the students and worship the Dark Lord by day, and cry himself to sleep, clutching a picture of you by night.  His life was hell, and the worst part was there was no way out of it.  If Seveus tried to help you escape, Voldemort would kill you.  If he asked the Order for help, Voldemort would kill you.  There was no feasible option that didn’t result in yours or Severus’ death.  So he went through the motions, numb to any emotion except pain.  

The best days, oddly enough, were those when he was Called.  On those days, Severus was gifted a glimpse of you.  A few moments to look at you, to reassure himself that you were alive.  Not quite healthy, but alive.  Severus was forbidden to speak to you, but seeing you was enough; barely enough to satiate his starvation for you, but it was something.  It seemed Voldemort was treating you well enough: there were no visible bruises or wounds, and you seemed well fed.  Severus could only hope that was true.

Then, a month after you’d been taken, the world flipped upside down.  Potter was at Hogwarts, and Voldemort arrived soon after.  The castle was in ruins, flames licking at the tallest towers.  When Severus saw Voldemort’s body, his first thought was of you.  You were alive, he was certain, Voldemort would have taunted him if he’d have killed you.  The composure that Severus had held for the past month snapped, and he took off running.

“Y/N!” he screamed as he ran over the grounds.  “Y/N!  Y/N, where are you?  Y/N, please!  I’m here!  Y/N!”  He ran as fast as his legs would carry him, in and out of the crumbling castle, around the lake, and finally, he reached the boat house.  “Y/N,” he breathed.  There you were, curled in on yourself, rocking back and forth.  You startled upon hearing his voice, looking at Severus with wide, fearful eyes.

“You’re not real,” was the first thing you said, the first words he’d heard you say in a month.  “This isn’t real.  No, no, no…”  Severus moved slowly, keeping his hands in your view.  Though Voldemort said he was treating you well, Severus wasn’t entirely convinced that was true.  He crouched before you, inches from you.  “Y/N, my love, look at me.”  You did, eyes wide.  “This is real, Voldemort is dead, the war is over, and I am here.  Can you repeat that back to me.”

You shook your head, eyes squeezed shut.  “Can you give me your hand, love?”  To his surprise, you did.  Perhaps you were so desperate to believe he was really there.  Severus gently took your hand and pressed it to his chest.  Feeling his heartbeat, your expression softened into one of realization and slight shock.  “Severus?”  “Yes, my darling, I’m here.  Now, can you repeat after me: This is real, Voldemort is dead, the war is over, and I am here?”

“This is real,” you began, speaking slowly.  “V-Voldemort is dead, the war is over, and you are here.”  “Good,” Severus praised, kissing your hand.  “Good, Y/N.”  Tears were forming, or rather, the tears that were there when he found you began to spill.  Severus wanted so badly to reach out and hold you, but he was unsure if you wanted or were ready for that.  “Can I touch you, Y/N?”  You didn’t answer, you flung yourself into his lap, burying your face in his chest and sobbing.

Severus wrapped his arms tightly around you, rocking you back and forth gently.  “Shhh, I’ve got you, I’m right here, Y/N.  You’re safe now, love, I’m here.”  You cried for a long time, tears soaking his shirt, before lifting your face.  “I was so afraid,” you began.  “That I’d never see you again.  That they’d kill me, or kill you, or both.  That they’d torture me.  B-Bellatrix, she-”  You broke off, swallowing more tears.  “She never left me alone.  She was always with me, taunting me.”

Severus smoothed your hair, kissing your forehead.  “She’s dead too,” he said, needing to reassure you.  “Molly killed her.  She’s dead and she’ll never hurt you again.”  Severus held you for another few moments before he spoke.  “We need to get you to Madam Pomfrey, Y/N.”  He got to his feet, and you held onto his even tighter.  “It’s alright, I’m not going anywhere.  We’re going to see Madam Pomfrey, that’s it.”

The sun was peeking over the horizon, a new dawn rising in more ways than one.  The matron was set up in the Great Hall, and on your way there, you caught a glimpse of Voldemort’s corpse, a few crows already hanging around.  “Yes,” Severus said before you could ask.  “He is dead.  This is real, Y/N.  No one can hurt you any more.”  When Severus laid you down on a cot, you gripped his hand so tightly it hurt.  “Please don’t go,” you said.  Severus sat on the floor next to your cot, kissing your forehead.  “I’m right here, love.”

Madam Pomfrey examined you, deeming that you physically well enough, but that the month spent in Voldemort’s captivity had done damage to your mental health.  She gave Severus some tips on how to help a loved one with trauma and recommended a mind-healer before moving on to other patients.  Severus moved onto the cot and pulled you back into his lap, gently turning your face to his.

“Can I kiss you?”  You nodded, and when you spoke, your words were shaky.  “Please.”  Severus leaned forward, lips soft and gentle against yours.  His hand came to rest on your neck, his arm wound around your middle.  “I love you,” he said against your lips.  “I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you so much, Y/N.  I’m so sorry that this happened, and I promise I will never let anything happen to you ever again.  I will protect you, my love.”  “I love you too, Sev.  I love you more than anything.”  As the sun rose, you stayed in Severus’ arms, never wanting to leave them again.  And you knew, deep in your heart, that you never had to, that you were safe now, that Severus would keep you safe.  Forever.

[sammystep]

No One Lives Forever- CH10

(AO3 link)

Stardust Crusader Wolf Pack AU

[From the beginning- CH1]

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Between the road noise and the insulation of the cooler it was easy to ignore the shouting from the gremlin. Kakyoin had taken shotgun this time, the rest of you piled in the back rows and passing around bandages and ointments as Polnareff drove. After cleaning away the blood you could see none of you had sustains injuries worse than some deep scratches. With the accelerated healing you all had they would be fine by morning, but you patched each other up with gauze and bandages just in case. It felt nice, satisfying even, to take care of the others and let them take care of you in return.

You lose track of time for a bit, content to sit quietly in the middle row and rest. You hear someone start snoring from behind you and turn around to see Joseph has nodded off, Avdol also has his eyes closed but looks more like he’s meditating than sleeping. Jotaro must have turned at the same time, you caught his eyes as he turns forward again as well, a small smile on his face. You smile at him and hold out your hand to him over the middle seat. His gaze flicks back again before he faces forward completely and covertly takes your hand.

You didn’t realize how tense you still were until he took your hand and you felt the muscles of your back and shoulders melt. A tingling feeling of relief, you were safe, your pack was safe, your mate…

You tense slightly again and grip Jotaro’s hand, where had that feeling come from? You are bewildered for a moment, you barely register Jotaro squeezing your hand back, his emotions hidden by his resting serious face. You relax into your seat again, coming to at least basic terms with what your instincts have been screaming at you for a while now. Yes, it was a terrifying situation happening when you first met him, and Jotaro could physically fit the definition of big bad wolf, but his actions so far have proven he’s anything but cruel or violent. When you had gotten a look at the cut on his leg earlier you had to suppress a sudden shift and urge to rip the monster that did that to pieces. Maybe he was experiencing the same feelings towards you?

It’s been a few hours after the events of the gas station and capturing Dio’s minion when Polnareff makes a turn off the road to a campsite. Although it looked well cared for there weren’t many campers ready to brave New York forests this late in the season, there were no other cars in the lot or in any of the designated spaces close to the entrance. Jotaro is surveying the space outside his window so he doesn’t see Kakyoin turn around and catch sight of your intertwined hands. You blush and look away when you catch his eye and he’s polite enough to clear his throat before announcing this was the nearest campsite he found to dispose of the gremlin in its prison.

Polnareff parks and you’re surprised Jotaro gives your hand a squeeze before letting go and climbing out. You suppress a giggle at Joseph’s sudden snort as he jostles himself awake. Exiting the truck, you enjoy a deep lung full of clean air, not even a trace of human scent present. The falling leaves and large lake to your right create a picturesque scene and you almost wish the pack had stopped for pleasure and not business. Speaking of… Jotaro and Polnareff are unloading your captive from the back, the creature either playing possum or it had finally run out of air. A couple of hard shakes to the container don’t produce the screeches you expected.  

Joseph has fully woken up from his nap and joins them in staring at the cooler. “Well, looks like we won’t be getting any more info out of that thing.” He puts one hand on his hip and scratches at his beard with the other. “Jotaro, what do you think? Risk it getting away to see if it’s really dead?”

“No. It didn’t seem all that clever, it probably had nothing more to tell us. It’s not worth the risk of it getting loose out here.” Jotaro motions with a jerk of his chin to the dense woods. “We’ll burry the whole thing and be done with it.” The rest of the pack nods in agreement and Jotaro and Polnareff haul the cooler towards the line of trees.

You all take advantage of the rest stop and walk around the campsite while Jotaro and Polnareff make quick work of disposing of their cargo. You douse a few paper towels with some of the bottled water as they make their way back and offer them to the guys to clean up with. “Ah, merci mon amie.” Polnareff looks around for a moment before leaning in slightly “Ah, say (Y/N), you didn’t see any restrooms around here, did you?”

Jotaro rolls his eyes as he finishes cleaning the dirt from under his nails. “Good grief Pol. It’s the woods. Go anywhere.”

“Fine! Fine!” Polnareff puts his hands up in surrender, “Just thought I’d check.” He backs away from you and Jotaro and towards the lake. You turn away to give him privacy and survey the rest of the pack. Avdol and joseph are going through some of the snacks; more like Avdol is trying to restrain Joseph from sampling each new type of jerky he finds. Kakyoin is making his way to you and Jotaro when you hear a sudden shout from behind you.

Polnareff had just finished his business and was headed back to the group when his leg gets caught on something. Yelling as he’s pulled to the ground, he re-evaluates, he hasn’t tripped on his own and whatever has caught him is dragging him back towards the lake. He catches a glimpse of what looks like seaweed wrapped from ankle to kneecap as he tires to scramble away. His claws dig into the dirt as he struggles to gain traction and from behind him he hears an ungodly noise of whatever has caught him.

You and Jotaro turn as soon as you hear Polnareff’s distressed yelp. The unbelievable scene of a creature rising from the lake makes you both hesitate for a moment to comprehend what you’re seeing. Its body ungulates, a writhing mass of pond weed and lake plants twining together to take the form of what looked like a horse. Jotaro recovers from the shock first, surging forward and transforming as he ran. You are right behind him, transforming as well. The creature rears back and screeches as you both approach it, desperately trying to drag Polnareff to the water as the plants rooted to its body climb further up his leg to gain better grip on the struggling werewolf.

From your left more beasts are emerging from the water and you and Jotaro dodge the kelp and vines shooting out at you. You hear the rest of the pack behind you also start making their way to the lake but are cut off by more creatures. The one holding onto Polnareff has managed to drag the massive white werewolf to the water by the time you and Jotaro rush the last few steps to his aid. Both of his legs have been tangled by vines now but they fall away limp as Jotaro is able to cut through the main vine. You quickly help Polnareff to his feet in the knee-high water.

“What the hell are these things?” Polnareff’s voice is deeper and slightly distorted with his change and constant growl rumbling from his chest. The three of you take a defensive formation covering each other’s backs and claws out. Your ears flatten and you snarl at one of the seaweed horses as it gallops by.

“I’ve never seen anything like this,” you huff and swipe at a tendril of lake-weed snaking too close for comfort, “Some kind of horses? Or we pissed off a plant witch or something?”

“Kelpies. They’ve never been sighted this far north though.” Jotaro growls out as he snaps at the beast in front of him. By now the things were running amok along the shoreline and around the pack, six of them in total working as a team to try and capture and drag you all to a watery grave. One of them turns and stamps its hooves before charging directly at you, Jotaro and Polnareff. You are forced to dive away as it barrels by but a vine of weeds wraps around your waist as it passes. You are lifted briefly into the air before landing on all fours, the vines tangling your legs as well. You hear two loud thumps behind you and see Jotaro and Polnareff were also bound by that last charge, their arms stuck to their bodies and unable to claw their way out.

You cut your own bindings as fast as you can and quickly cut them free as well before you are all dragged along with the galloping kelpie. It bellows as it realizes its prey has broken free and tosses its head making its mane of kelp fly about.  The three of you quickly move to the offensive rushing the creatures standing between you and the rest of your packmates. Jotaro takes the lead and you defend his sides, swiping away any tendrils reaching too close. Polnareff assists and keeps another beast off your backs. Ahead of you, Avdol, Joseph and Kakyoin are also struggling to keep themselves guarded and untethered, but the horses are galloping too fast to try and get any substantial hits in, circling in a pattern to keep the pack separated and vulnerable.

Jotaro narrows his eyes and growls louder as he realizes there is something more going on here. Although they are fast there are only six of the kelpies, the pack should be able to take them on one-on-one but their movements are too coordinated to be wild kelpies. He stops and takes on a defensive stance again as a sudden gleam of light catches his attention, what looks like spider’s thread catching the sunlight. He follows the line with his eyes and sees it connects to one of the kelpie’s heads. In fact, now that he’s noticed one of them, they all seem to have this silver thread connecting them to a single point in the lake. About 20 feet from the shore a figure has risen from the water, humanoid but draped in gold and blue lakeweed. It makes no move to come ashore, instead moving its arms like an orchestra conductor would to control the team of water horses under its command.

Before he can make a move towards this figure another kelpie blocks his path. Polnareff barrels forward from his right and slashes at the beast’s face with his claws. He yelps in pain at the same time the kelpie rears back and retreats, a pile of silver rope falling to the ground. Polnareff cradles his silver burned hand for a moment before his eyes light up in understanding. “It’s silver! They have silver leashes!” the kelpie he accidently freed runs past the fighting happening between its herd and the pack, running on top of the water to the far side of the lake. “It’s gonna burn like hell but we can free them!”

With one of the kelpies no longer under its control, the man in the lake’s movements become more exaggerated as the remaining five horses push themselves to move faster, biting, stomping and charging the pack. Jotaro seizes the opportunity to break another of the silver ropes as he dodges the kelpie charging at him but instead of letting go, he grips the silver line tight where he severed it. It burns something fierce but he’s able to control the horse long enough to force it to charge at the lake man and bring Jotaro along for the ride. When he’s close enough Jotaro slips the silver harness from the kelpie and throws it, hoping to tangle the puppet master. Up close he can see the man’s flashing amber eyes and although as a wolf his sense of color is limited, he can tell the kelp and weeds cloaking the creature would actually be red instead of gold if he had full color vision right now. A rusalka then. A male rusalka and a herd of kelpies under its control?

The rusalka hisses at him but it’s a mocking laugh and not a fearful defense mechanism like Jotaro expected. Instead, it seems confident in its ability to take on the hulking werewolf in the water. “Hssss… You are a foolish one, aren’t you? Making it so easy to carry out my orders. You think you’ll beat me in my element? Show me what you’ve got then, pup.” Vines of lake kelp lash out as the rusalka flails his arms, no longer focused on controlling the kelpies now that his prey was in range of his own claws. Jotaro growls and snaps the first volley of vines with his claws as he swims closer. Grabbing at the next vines that hurl at him he holds tightly and begins reeling himself closer toward the rusalka.

He’s underestimated the rusalka’s speed and he has to suddenly deflect razor sharp claws away from his exposed torso. Although it has the advantage of speed in the water it is still weaker than Jotaro and on its next swipe Jotaro is able to grab on and immobilize it while swiping with his own claws. The rusalka hisses in pain and thrashes enough to break Jotaro’s grip before getting a hit in on the wolf’s side. More lake weed vines shoot out from its body to try and wrap him up and finally succeed in binding his leg. With a great tug the battle is moved completely underwater. Jotaro is just barely able to resist the instinct to gasp as the cold water rushes into his ears and nose uncomfortably. Snapping his eyes open as he feels a shift in the water, he’s able to evade the claws that had been aiming for his face.

Now that he can see his enemy in his entirety, Jotaro realizes the reason the rusalka had been controlling the kelpies from such a distance. From the waist down, instead of legs or even fins is a thick tangle of lake weed and kelp that anchors it to the lake bottom, more vines branching off and shooting towards him from this central pillar. The vines were easily cut away as they reached him, but they were only a distraction for the rusalka to pull himself closer and unleash a flurry of slashing strikes. Jotaro blocks them with his arms and again grabs on to immobilize and pull in closer to deliver his own blows. He moves to the offensive, digging his claws into slimy flesh as the rusalka struggles in his grasp. He almost looses his grip when it lands a hard blow to his shoulder but keeps hold long enough to accomplish his final attack. With a powerful strike, Jotaro severs the thick tether keeping the rusalka anchored to the lake.  

The screech it lets out is almost deafening under water and Jotaro nearly looses his grip a second time. But with his claws embedded deep into the rusalka’s torso and his other hand gripping it by the throat he is able to swim and haul it to shore. With every foot closer it struggles harder, finally showing fear in its panicking eyes. Its movements are becoming less and less coordinated and it makes motions Jotaro recognizes as trying to call upon the kelpies for help through the silver ropes it had been using. The water is shallow enough now that Jotaro can stand and looks around for the kelpie reinforcements coming to its master’s aid. Instead, his pack spots him and rushes to help him drag the rusalka all the way to shore. Kakyoin reaches him first and the red wolf helps pull the creature the last few feet to the shore.

The change begins as soon as the last tendril loses contact with the water, some leaves shriveling and turning brown while others seem to rapidly decay and turn to sludge. The rusalka screams and thrashes as its body dries out and starts to flake away, but its strength is failing and it can’t pull itself back to the water in time. It collapses as it shrivels up, arms outstretched to the lake and it succumbs to the dry air.

You are the first one to let your transformation drop as you run up to Jotaro and Kakyoin, careful not to step in any leafy remains on the ground in front of them. Your sable fur falling away to reveal smooth skin and clothes is the unofficial signal for the others to drop their transformations as well. You reach the alpha and beta just as Jotaro lets go of his wolf form and you can see the damage the rusalka inflicted in their unseen underwater battle. You and Kakyoin nod at each other before reaching for Jotaro’s right arm and lifting it over your shoulder to support him, Kakyoin doing the same on his left side. You blush as you hear him chuckle but you’d be dammed if you weren’t going to help him after he risked his life to defeat the enemy. It seems he does appreciate your effort though as his chuckle turns into a huff and you feel his weight shift to lean on you as the three of you make your way back to the truck.

The rest of the guys move ahead getting the first aid supplied you all ransacked from the gas station opened and organized. Avdol takes charge of distributing bandages as Joseph and Polnareff drop dramatically to sit on the logs surrounding the unused fire pit. Jotaro is obviously sporting the worst injuries, but the rest of the pack is also covered in various bruises, bitemarks and silver burns. You and Kakyoin focus on getting Jotaro patched up together, you carefully clean the slashes from the rusalka’s claws and Kakyoin follows your wake drying and bandaging what he can. You don’t realize you are purring until Jotaro starts purring back and relaxes as your hands make contact with the bared flesh of his arms. You blush as you glance at his bare chest, looking in a non-clinical way now that things were calming down. Your hands only hesitate a moment though before you return to your task.

Your blush returns tenfold when Jotaro practically drags you down to sit next to him once you and Kakyoin finish bandaging each other as well. By the time everyone is bandaged up it’s getting late enough that you knew the pack wasn’t going to finish the journey to the city tonight. Everyone is sitting around the still unlit firepit and relaxing for a moment, watching the herd of kelpies you freed running and jumping across the surface of the lake when Avdol makes his suggestion. “Well, it seems like we’re not going to make much more progress tonight. We don’t have any camping gear with us, but we are already at a campsite.”

Polnareff flops over onto the log he’d been sitting on. “You mean we’re roughing it out here tonight? Can’t we keep going until we find a motel with actual beds? And proper bathrooms?”

Joseph throws an empty bottle at him, “Hush you spoilt pup! I don’t want to hear your bellyaching when you’ve got no idea what camping out here will do to my old bones!” You’re starting to recognize Joseph’s tell when he’s teasing Polnareff is to cross his arms and try and look stern, but a small grin gives him away.

“No, its too risky right now to be near humans. That rusalka, before we really got to fighting it mentioned ‘carrying out its orders’.” Jotaro shakes his head as he addresses the pack, joseph and Polnareff immediately back into serious mode. “We’ll be safer if we are able to fully transform to fight if we need to. I think that’s worth being uncomfortable for the night.”

You all agree with the decision to rank safety over comfort but you slump a little as you continue to watch the kelpies dance around the lake. You’ve slept in your car and camped out enough in your own travels that it’s not a huge hardship to do it again, but you also appreciated having a real bed to relax in. Especially after a day like today.

“I agree. However, on second thought…” Avdol motions to the kelpies, one had caught a large fish in its mouth as you had been daydreaming and now two were fighting over it and ripping the catch to pieces in the process. “Kelpies are carnivores after all. Perhaps a different campsite would be more suitable.”

Jotaro sighs and you feel him slump slightly into your side before he rallies himself and stands up. “Good point. Kakyoin, you’re navigator. Find a campsite we can get to quickly. Everyone else pack up and let’s go.”

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Author’s Note:

So. A week late, but I swear its not my fault. Guess who lives in Texas and couldn’t use a computer for the week? This gal. Everything is fine now and I’m one of the lucky few who doesn’t have a 10k electric bill or burst pipes.

Anyway, this chapter was a lot of fun to write- I always thought it was weird the crusaders just jumped right in with the rest of the crew after the Dark Blue Moon episode when CLEARLY you can’t trust anyone. So this chapter is the “Captain” and his crew as cryptids and myths. If you haven’t been reading the notes so far, I’ve planned out all of the enemies in this fashion, each battle a new myth to discover (and for me to research). Also every Wikipedia article I’ve looked at for the monsters has a reference line that is something like “Appears on episode 25 of Supernatural”. I have not seen more than 2 or 3 episodes of that show, I got to the one with the Wendigo and NOPED RIGHT OUT. Was wwaaaayyy too scary. Couldn’t handle it! So any similarities to the show are going to be pure coincidence.

Also I had to do a gag at Pol’s expense

[moonflower-31]

I Won’t Forget You - Spencer x Reader

Masterlist 

Part 25 

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader 

A/N: So, if you haven’t noticed, I’m gonna do one every other day with this so I don’t get burned out again. Hope that’s constant enough for you! Sorry about my little hiatus but I should be good now! 

Warnings: Talk of murder, PTSD Flashbacks, the usual stuff.  

Also, Feedback is really appreciated :)

Tags: @dra-reid, @eevee0722, @ceeellewrites, @anotherr-fine-mess, @ssahoodrathotchner, @egg-boy03, @helena-way07, @l0ve-0f-my-life, @serendipity-imagines, @kaelyn-lobrutto24, @thatsonezesty13 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

Words have no power to impress the mind without the exquisite horror of reality - Edgar Allen Poe 

Unfortunately for you, serial killers didn't know how to wait. So not two days after Spencer had finally been able to be home with you were they called on a case. Their first one without you since you were hired. 

It left you with a slight dull feeling in your heart as you sat curled up on the couch reading the same page over and over as you kept losing focus. Morgan had stayed, as Spencer had promised. But he was currently asleep in Spencer's bed. Something about it being softer than his own with Savannah. Whatever that meant. 

You grumbled and closed the book after your fifth attempt at distracting yourself from how lonely you felt. And how the nagging feeling of thinking you're being watched didn't go away, even with Morgan’s less than helpful presence.  

You sighed and put the book down on the coffee table and picked up the remote instead. You flipped through a few channels until you find the news channel was having a 'Breaking News' segment. When the title appeared on the screen you almost screamed. 

19 year old Arthur Grant goes missing from his family's estate, reward not yet posted. 

You widen your eyes, your hands beginning to shake. Why? Why you? Why must you be overloaded with so much grief and trauma? Did some bereavement mailman decide to ditch his route and dump all of the bad stuff on your doorstep? 

You didn't even have tears that came to be shed. You'd cried so much the past week that you had run the banks dry and squeezed more than at least 5 headaches out of you. And each of them having lasted at least 4-5 hours. Sometimes more. 

Instead of your normal first step of denial, or depression in the stages of grief you unfortunately knew too well, you found anger boiling up through your feet, making your toes curl and your fists clench. You were pissed. Everyone around you was suffering because of Peter's self-absorbed, narcissistic, and sociopathic God-Complex. And you were sick of it. 

You didn't care who heard, who came running to see if you were okay. You just couldn't hold back your frustration anymore: you screamed. 

You threw the remote against the couch, still having half the mind to keep from destroying it. It was still Spencer's property. You didn't exactly have the 20-40 bucks to give to replace it. So, precautionary aggression was the best course of action. 

Your hands found your hair and gripped tightly, letting out a frustrated and loud grumble. You could still see his cocky smirk, his evil eyes as they stared at you like you were nothing but a good fuck to him. You could hear his sickening laughter in your ear, and you could hear the rumble of the gravel underneath the tires of his stupid truck. You were almost there, same feelings, same feeling of paranoid, survival instinct came rushing into your decision making controls and overrided them.

You were engulfed in the flashback, seeing him, feeling the cold metal of the cuffs around your wrists as they dug into your skin, the shiver of having your clothes ripped off of you like you were some prize he had won, it was too much. 

You were panting and holding your head, trying to make sense of everything and trying to get a grip on your own reality. You ended up backing up into the dining table and sending things to the floor. This only amped up your paranoid reaction, causing you to be on guard, but thankfully the flashback was able to end. 

Then, some poor soul decided to knock on the door. Your eyes snapped towards the mahogany door and you let out an instinctive growl. You then began stalking towards the door, sneering and baring your teeth. 

As you made your way towards the door, a pair of protective arms wrapped around you, preventing you from opening the door or causing anymore ruckus from your rampage. 

"Woah there feisty, what was all that for? I thought you were seriously in trouble." 

Morgan’s calm but worried voice was like a fire extinguisher to your anger and your guard, calming you down in a matter of minutes. The fire quelled inside of you, being replaced with a lake of sadness and pain. And unfortunately, that meant that instead of anger, well, you had to deal with tears. Which you had recently come to find were annoying as hell. 

"Morgan…" you breathed, letting yourself become almost limp in his arms. You felt the tears building, almost climbing inside your eyes. You couldn't do this. You couldn't face him again. Face these memories. But you were fucking stuck with them. You had no way of forgetting them. Ever. Thanks to your stupid memory. You didn't want it. You wished you had a normal memory, or at the very least an eidetic memory like Spencer's. At least then you could forget some things. But you? No. No the only things you couldn't remember were whether or not your parents ever really nursed you or even held you when you were an infant. Even the things you did remember weren't pleasant. No warm glow, no blanket colors. Just the cold, monotone voice of your father introducing you to your 'future staff'. 

Morgan held you, not asking you any questions. He just let you begin to cry and let out your frustration on him. Your balled up fist gently hit his chest a few times as you wailed and inaudibly tried to explain what you thought had happened. He didn't stop you, just tried to sooth you as the knocking sounded again. 

You froze in Derek's arms, the knocking now being persistent and fear-inducing now that you had your overly cautious mind back. 

"D-derek…" you whispered. Derek shook his head. 

"I'll get it, alright? You stay right here." He says, gesturing for you to stay. He didn't have to tell you twice, you were still hiccuping from your sobs. 

Derek slowly approached the door, looking through the peephole before opening it slowly. "Hey… you should've called first. We might've been able to answer quicker." 

All of your fears and concerns and panic all ceased at the sight of the man, well more of a boy, that stood in the doorway. 

You stood there in disbelief as you called to him, hoping you weren't seeing things. 

"Arthur?" 

○●♡●○ 

Spencer sighed as he was put in charge of the geographical profile yet again. He had a newfound routine in having you help him with it so much so that he found it harder to do his job. 

Not to mention his mind was filled with worry about how you were at home. How your well-being was, if Morgan would be enough company for you when you had the nightmares he knew you had after everything. He'd been the one to comfort you after each and every one in the hospital. He just hoped that Morgan could still comfort you while he was away. 

Not only that, but a certain Real Estate Broker had his mind doing flips and his eyes seeing red whenever he thought of him and what vile thing he could be planning next. Spencer hated being away from you. Especially when everyone knew by now that Peter was a snake and was easily able to slither away. And to sneakily find you as he had done before. Spencer was thankful now that he had asked you to stay with him in his apartment rather than your own. If you were staying in yours, the chances of Peter finding you were 90-100%. And he hated those odds. 

So safe to say, Spencer's mind was at odds with itself. And to top it all off all he could think about was what it would be like to squeeze the trigger and kill Peter himself. For you. That's all he wanted was revenge for you. He'd have to make sure he didn't instigate anything, so that it would be seen as self defense. But he would love to feel the backlash of gunfire if it meant that Peter would be dead. And you would be safe. 

"Hey, any progress on that profile yet?" 

Spencer looked up and saw JJ standing in front of where he stood next to the map, having found himself lost in thought with his fist clenched around the little box of pins in his hand. 

 "Oh, uh… no, not yet. I was just… distracted is all." He admitted, pulling out the box from his hand and pinning the last two locations for the dump sites. 

"From what I can see just from first glance is that the dump sites seem to be within 6 or 7 miles between each other, give-or-take." Spencer expressed, trying to flip on his work brain to no avail. He soon found himself thinking of you before he finished his statement. 

JJ looked at him with a sad smile. "You're worried about her, huh?" 

Spencer was caught off guard by JJ's question, causing him to turn towards her a few seconds later. "Huh? Who?" He asked. 

JJ gave him a slightly teasing look. "You know who. Garcia told us and the rest of the team about your little crush on her. Apparently she overheard you talking to your mom a few weeks ago. Said you loved her." JJ reveals, a gentle and motherly smile on her face. 

Spencer felt a warmth rise to his cheeks, suddenly feeling much warmer in his cardigan than usual. "S-she did?' 

JJ nodded. "Mhm. It's okay, Spence. Besides, I kind of figured after how you carried her back to the ambulance. She was snuggled up on you. And you refused to let her go until you knew for certain that the lead medic had an actual medical license." JJ teased gently. 

Spencer sighed and rubbed his neck, closing the box of pins so as to not spill them all over the carpet. "Is… is it that obvious?" 

JJ nodded again, a slight giggle on her lips. "Am I or am I not a liaison for the BAU?" She asked, obviously giving him a half hard time. "But seriously, I know you're worried about her. We all are. But she's gonna be alright. Morgan’s with her. Even with a busted knee he can wrestle any man to the ground." 

Spencer sighed. JJ was right. The only reason Morgan had been taken by Peter was because he caught him off guard and was shot before he could shoot first. He was more than capable of protecting you. So why did he feel so badly? 

Spencer rubbed his face and put the box down on the map's marker holder. "I know, JJ. I just… I can't help but worry about her. What if she has a nightmare and I'm not able to be there to comfort her? Wh-what if she has a panic attack and I can't get to her cause I'm all the way out here in South Dakota?" He asked, his worries getting the best of him. 

JJ lifted her non-full hand and laid it on Spencer’s shoulder, no matter how much taller he was than her. "Spence. She's going to be okay. We have people watching over your apartment building on Strauss's orders. They're doing it on their overtime. I think she's safe. Even then, you're just a phone call away, right?"

Spencer sighed again, now noticing that JJ carried with her a coffee in her hand that wasn't on his shoulder. JJ laughed. "I'd be wary of the day you don't smell coffee when it's available. You're lucky it's for you." JJ teased, handing the warm cup to him. 

Spencer took it and took a quick sip of the liquid. "Thank you, JJ. Really. I… I really needed this." He says. JJ nods. 

"I figured you did. Now I gotta go address the press. They're gathering like vultures out there. So I gotta be their food source." She jokes. Spencer laughed and nodded. 

"Yeah… actually, most vultures tend to go for larger prey than the usual roadkill, as that is more sustenance for them-" Spencer began to ramble. JJ laughs as he caught himself. 

"Yeah, just like every animal it seems." She answers before he leaves the room, opening the door wider as Garcia bursts into the room with her laptop. 

"Reid! Reid I think I might've gotten word about Peter!" 

○●♡●○ 

"Arthur?" 

Your brother chuckles slightly and rubs the back of his neck. "Surprise? Please don't tell me you've watched the news. You know how dramatic mother is. I told her I was going to come visit you and-" 

He didn't get to finish his sentence  as you very quickly engulfed him in a hug. You felt short, as he had grown much taller than you. But you didn't care. He was still your little brother. And you loved him. 

"Y-you're okay… you...you've grown so much…" you begin, looking up at him as you pull away. Arthur's arms had very quickly reciprocated your hug, enjoying the first bit of contact he has had with you since you left. 

"Yeah, apparently somewhere in my genes there's supposed to be another inch or two. But I think I'm done." He laughs, laying a hand on your head. You smile at him, your panic completely gone at this point. 

Derek raised an eyebrow and crossed his arms from where he stood. "(Y/N), you wanna tell me who this is?" He asks. 

You look over at Morgan and laugh softly, Arthur having given Morgan his most awkward expression. He really hadn't changed much. 

"Derek, this is my younger brother, Arthur Grant." You introduced. Then you turned to Arthur. "Artie, this is SSA Derek Morgan. He… He was the agent P-Peter captured alongside me." 

Arthur widened his eyes and held out his hand to Derek as he gulped. "N-nice to meet you. T-thank you for protecting her. She's really all I've got." He says, rubbing his neck. 

Derek smiled and gave Arthur a firm handshake in return. "It was my honor, Arthur. I'm glad she's got some real family left. Not that her work family isn't good." He jokes, nudging your arm. You rolled your eyes and smiled to yourself. 

"Hey, as a wise man on Supernatural once said, 'Family don't end in blood'. And I think that qualifies here." You giggle softly, happy to have found even a small bit of happiness and willingness to be able to express it freely. 

Arthur shook Morgan’s hand gladly and smiled his signature smile, looking back towards you. "Hey, uh… sis? Can we… can we talk? I haven't seen you for… what is it… five years now? I just wanna catch up." He expresses, his eyebrows turning up genuinely. 

You sigh, but nod. "Morgan, can you go into the other room while we talk? Just for a half hour?" You ask. Morgan shrugs and nods. 

"'Course kid. He's the only member of your damn family I'll trust. Just don't be gossiping without me." He teases as he leaves the room. You giggle softly as you watch him leave. 

"So��� how have you been? O-other than-" Arthur began, his awkwardness taking over. You sigh and hold up a hand and look at him sadly. 

"Artie… please, let's just… not talk about that. I'm dealing with it. That's all that you need to know right now. You might be taller than me, but that doesn't mean that you're gonna know all of my secrets like an older brother." You tease, guiding Arthur towards the couch. 

Arthur playfully rolled his eyes and followed you, mocking offense. "Oh come on, height has to factor in there somewhere Sis." 

You shake your head and take a seat beside him on Spencer’s couch, sighing gently. "Nope, sorry little bro." You insist. 

Arthur smiles at you and leans back on the couch, sighing as he looks at you. "(Y/N/N)... you… You have no idea how much I've missed you. I pushed myself to graduate with all honors because of you. I got a scholarship too. In business. Because you always pushed me to do better. To do my best. I… I want to do something for you in return. Please. Name it. I can start making it up to you." 

You give Arthur a joking look and shook your head. "No need, Arthur. Besides, that was all you. You just needed the extra push. I'm so proud of you." You say, laying a hand on Arthur's arm. He smiled at you and took a sigh, signaling to you that the conversation was about to take a turn. 

Arthur's hands intertwined with each other and he leaned over for a moment, his elbows digging into his thighs. "(Y/N)... Look I… I know you said you were okay but…" he sighed again. "Mom she… she forbade me from seeing you in the hospital, I promise that's the only reason I wasn't there. After I promised to testify against her for you she banned me from leaving home." 

You widen your eyes, your mouth gaping a bit. "Arthur… y-you're testifying?" 

He looked up at you and nodded. "Yeah. She assaulted you at work and literally sold you, sis. If I can put her away, along with him, I'm gonna do it. For you. I want you to be safe. I may not be your older brother, but I want you safe too. I'm gonna try and protect you like a brother should. I couldn't do much as a scrawny 13 year old you know." He chuckled. You laughed briefly, a smile teasing at your lips. 

"Yeah… not really." You giggled. He shook his head and laughed back. 

"Ha ha. Very funny. But really… it's good to see you sis. I… I'm sorry I didn't do enough for you back then." He exhaled, his expression solemn and regretful. You take his hands in yours and give him a reassuring look. 

"Hey, just as you said. You were a scrawny 13 year old. What much could you do?" You point out. Arthur sighed. 

"I could've protected you. At least told Peter to scram at least once." He grumbled. You shake your head and smile at him. 

"I think I did that enough for the both of us." 

Arthur smiled softly and looked down, showing you his vulnerability when it came to you. You squeezed his hands gently, assuring him it was okay. 

And you both sat there in each other's company for a few more moments of silence. It wasn't an awkward one, so there were no awkward feelings.  

Arthur spoke up a few minutes later, having come up with an idea. "Can… can I at least pay for your therapy? I can pay for it with the money dad gives me. You… you need to see someone. I saw someone, you pushed me to go see Dr. Francesca and now I see her every two weeks. Please… let me do this for you." 

You sighed as Arthur began to try and persuade you. Damn him and his puppy eyes. He still had the gift. 

"Tell you what, how about we call Derek back in here and we watch some procedural cop show that we can all laugh at and I'll tell you what I decide later?" You narrowly avoid. Arthur thankfully notices this and drops the question. 

"Only if the show is dumb enough for a citizen like me to laugh at it." He settles. 

You giggle and nod. "Deal!"

[sidecarghost]

15x18+ Spn Coda Happy Destiel Ending Fic

Dean was in a hospital bed. His eyes stared blankly at the ceiling. There were no doctors, but Sam brought him here to take advantage of the medical equipment. He found his brother like a corpse with his eyes open sitting with his back against the wall of the bunker’s dungeon.

Chuck stopped by now and then to make sure Sam and Jack still looked miserable. They had not disappointed Chuck yet.

Jack could visit Dean’s dreams, and he brought Sam too in an attempt to awaken Dean. But Dean was blind to their presence. No matter how loud they screamed, Dean couldn’t hear them. And Dean couldn’t feel them, no matter how violently they hit him.

From what Sam could tell Dean was dreaming they were working with Michael to take Chuck down. And that Jack had some kind of power vacuum ability. Michael and Lucifer were throwing fireballs at eachother like a couple kids having a snowball fight. Lucifer somehow snapped Death out of existence, and now they had a pet dog running around the Bunker.

“It’s not supernatural, Sam,” Jack said. “I can’t fix him.”

“I know,” Sam held his brother’s hand and watched the rhythmic rise and fall of his chest. “That Heaven he is stuck in is so depressing though Jack. Jeez I can’t believe our dad is there with him. John definitely didn’t deserve to go to Heaven after the shit he pulled. Then Dean was talking like he was an actor from the AU where our lives were a tv show on that bridge. It’s just so bizarre I wish we could ease his mind.”

“Me too, but what can we do?” Jack asks.

“Something must have happened to Cas,” Sam says, “Dean keeps starting the same dream over and over telling the dream us that Cas saved him. By summoning the Empty somehow.”

“Cas had made a deal with the Empty. Maybe that let him summon the Empty here,” Jack said. Sam raised an eyebrow in question, so Jack explained the terms of the deal to Sam. The deal was a contract to save Jack’s soul, and the Empty would wait until Cas was happy and then strike him down and drag him away.

“So maybe the Empty has something to do with Dean going catatonic,” Sam says.

Sam and Jack watch the still body of Dean in the hospital bed.

They were the last three souls on an empty planet.

~~

Jack started performing the ritual he had seen Nick do to summon Lucifer from the Empty.

As the spell finished, Cas and Billie, emerged through a portal from the Empty.

Sam was surprised to see Billie and after glancing towards Jack it looked like he was too.

“Jack!” Cas hugged Jack and then Sam. “Hello Sam, where’s Dean?”

“He’s gone into a coma Cas,” Sam tells Cas. “We found him sitting against the bunker’s dungeon wall, and he hasn’t been responsive since then.”

“We have business Castiel,” Billie tells the angel.

“Billie, the CE, and I have decided Chuck needs to be stopped, and we have put aside our differences for the time being,” Cas says. “Jack can you help Billie with whatever she needs. Sam, show me where Dean is.”

Jack and Billie find Chuck and use a powerful spell that Billie learned from the CE to free Amara so she becomes the dominant form and Chuck is left trapped inside her mind for safe keeping. Amara snaps her fingers and the Rapture is undone. The world is full of noise once more as people and animals once again appear as though they had never left.

Amara tells Billie and Jack that she needs to leave and work to get Heaven fixed. Now that she understands light and darkness she is confident she can restore what her brother left broken. And she has ideas that may help the CE in the Empty too.

Billie thanks Jack for his help and leaves to restore order to her library and her reapers.

~~

Meanwhile, Sam took Cas to the hospital room. Dean was still staring at the ceiling. Cas walked up and cupped Dean’s face in his hand.

“Hello Dean,” Cas says softly staring down into the blank eyes of the man he loves.

Dean remained motionless. And a moment later Cas appeared in Dean’s dream.

Cas looked around and saw he was at a gas station. Dean was carrying a dog towards the Impala.

“Who would think finding a dog would be a miracle?” Cas overhears Dean tell the canine.

“Dean!” Cas yells.

Dean looks up, but he doesn’t see Cas. He looks right through Cas to something across the street. Cas turns and sees Chuck standing there laughing like a lunatic. The dog disappears in a puff of smoke.

Cas can’t get Dean’s attention. He runs up to Dean, but Dean can’t see him. He yells at Dean, but Dean can’t hear him. He punches Dean, but Dean can’t feel him.

Cas attempts to burn down the church where Michael is hiding but no one reacts to the raging inferno. They keep talking about some plan to defeat Chuck.

“Stop Dean!” Cas yells “Its not Chuck. Michael would be dead Chuck isn’t going to be fooled by some human house of worship.”

Dean is in the bunker, and Cas follows him through his dream never leaving his side. Dean hears the phone ring and answers “Cas!”

Cas wonders if he’s about to meet his dream self. He wonders if dream Cas is going to be taller. Cas watched Dean sprint up the stairs to meet him at the bunker door. And he sees Lucifer?

Well at least Lucifer is an enemy they have confidently beaten before. Cas ignores dream Lucifer and starts looking through the lore while dream Michael and dream Lucifer engage in some embarrassing snowball fight. Cas tries to tune it out while he searching desperately for something in the library that could help Dean’s condition.

Suddenly they are all at the side of a lake. Chuck killed Michael. And now he was beating the snot out of Sam and Dean. Cas tried to put his body as a shield between Chuck and the Winchester’s but no one was affected by his presence. Cas screamed in bitterness and frustration, but no one paid attention to him. Jack walked over and knocked Chuck down. Cas was relieved that Dean wasn’t getting hit anymore.

They got into the Impala and drove to some town. Jack made people appear and then Jack disappeared. Sam and Dean drove to the bunker. Dean drank himself to sleep and Cas watched over him.

The brothers started working a case and Cas watched in horror as a vampire in a mask pushed Dean into a spike.

Cas couldn’t watch Dean die not even in a dream. Cas grabbed his angel blade and slit his own throat. Cas was cutting his grace out. He hoped that if Dean had angel grace he’d snap out of it. Cas began to feel light headed from the quick drop in power.

Cas knelt down on the barn floor. Then he felt a hand on his shoulder. He looked up and saw Dean smiling at him. The dream vampires and dream Sam all had disappeared. Cas and Dean were alone in the dark barn. Dean looked unhurt to Cas.

“Cas, why are you hurt?” Dean asked.

“You are in a coma Dean. I couldn’t wake you, and I thought angels don’t sleep. So I wanted to give you my grace,” Cas said.

Dean knelt down beside Cas, and put Cas’s hand to his own neck. “Heal yourself Cas!” Dean said with worry furrowed on his brow.

“I can’t Dean. I gave it all. I’m human now.” Cas smiled. Cas knew his situation was dire and now he’d bleed out. But he got to see his Dean again, and he couldn’t help from smiling. “I thought I lost you. Dean, does this barn remind you of the night we met?”

“Forget about the memories Cas. I want the real you. I’ve been stuck in this dream over and over. And I knew if I could just find you I’d snap out of it. You can’t leave buddy. We just found each other again. I thought you were gone forever. Because you never told me goodbye before,” Dean whispers to Cas. Dean puts his own hand over Cas’s throat and to his surprise his hand glows and Cas’s throat is healed.

“Cas, what the fuck?” Dean asks Cas.

“Uhh, you have my grace so now you have angelic powers.” Cas tells Dean.

“I don’t want them, Cas. Can I give them back? How do I fix this?” Dean asks. Dean stands up and offers Cas his hand to help him up.

“There is nothing to fix, Dean. I don’t need those powers anymore. I’d like to live a human life.” Cas looks at Dean.

“Cas, I think losing you. It broke something inside me. Everytime I lose you it gets harder for me to recover. When you pulled me out of Hell, I was torturing souls and I enjoyed it. Ever since then I’ve been barely keeping it together. I close my eyes and see myself ripping limbs off of humans with a smile on my face. Cas, you are the only one that knows that and still loves me. You have seen me at my worst and love me for me.” Dean tells Cas.

“Who you were then, that’s not who you are now. That doesn’t define you,” Cas says. “You—” Dean leans in to kiss Cas on the lips. Then Dean pulls back and looks at Cas. Cas appears totally astonished, and Dean smiles at Cas because he’s beautiful and amazing.

“I love you, Cas. I never believed in angels or a greater power before we met. I only believed in the things I could see. But then I met you Cas. You gave up Heaven, and everything you had ever known because you believed in doing the right thing. You believed in us. You fought for us.” Dean said, “You are more than an angel to me. You are my Cas.” Dean wraps his arms around Cas. “Cas, can we get out of here?”

“Yes Dean, you just need to wake up,” Cas says.

~~

Cas blinks and is back in the hospital with Dean and Sam. The hospital also has nurses and technicians walking along the hallways.

“Hey Cas! It looks like the Rapture got reversed.” Sam looks at Cas. “Um... any luck with Dean?”

“Yes Sam, actually Dean was the one that pulled me out of the dream,” Cas said.

“Oh wow really?” Sam walked over to the side of Dean’s bed and leaned over to see if there was any change in Dean. Dean’s eyes were still open and looking on the ceiling. Then Sam felt an arm grab his shoulder and shake him, and Sam found himself flinching involuntarily.

“Got you!” Dean laughed.

“Go to hell,” Sam rolled his eyes and then leaned in to hug his brother.

Dean hopped out of bed, and asked Sam if he could borrow his knife. Sam nods and hands his brother his blade. Then Sam announces he has a text from Eileen, and he’ll be back in a bit.

“Where’s Jack?” Dean asks.

“Here I am,” Jack appears in the room. An orderly screams. “Oh don’t worry I’m a magician, and that was part of my magic act,” Jack tells the frightened orderly.

Dean grabs a specimen cup out of a drawer and slices his neck. The grace drips into the specimen cup. After it’s filled Dean replaces the lid on the jar.

“Dean, I meant it before I don’t want my grace back,” Cas says.

Jack reaches out to heal Dean’s neck. “Here Jack can you keep this in a pocket dimension for safe keeping?” Dean hands Jack the jar.

Jack nods his head and disappears. Another orderly screams but the first orderly explains it’s part of a magic act.

“I’m glad you still don’t want your grace,” Dean walks over to Cas and reaches out to hold his hands. “I’m ready to try new things. The stress of hunting has been wearing me down. I’m running on adrenaline and I am barely coping anymore. I’m too tired to feel anything but anger most of the time. I want to find some peace, and I’d like to grow old with you Cas.”

“And I’d like to grow old with you, Dean Winchester.” Cas says.

They share a kiss and then another. “Dean if we’re still in your coma, I don’t want to wake up,” Cas says.

“No Cas, we’re not dreaming. This is real. We’re real,” Dean tells Cas while punctuating the answer with kisses under his jawline. “And now that we have each other, nothing can drag us apart.”

[crqstalite]

“Till death do us part. And forever until the end of eternity.”

For kodelyn and kaidan? 👀

had an idea, lost it, and acted upon this one before i could tell myself no. based on this one line i left in aftermath that i just?? never followed up on. i remember someone commenting on it, so i guess this is for them. enjoy.

1,748 words. post-war. no warnings. i think. unedited.

-

She’s up.

There’s no one there when he rolls over. It startles him for a moment, right in between where he’s awake and starting to fade back into unconsciousness again. She’s not there, and that worries him. Gone again. His reasoning starts to kick in through the fog, and he blinks a few times before pushing himself up to sit. She couldn’t have been gone too long because the mattress has yet to cool again, it was however odd she’d be up at such an hour. Not that it was particularly early, the first streaks of pink are beginning to paint the sky in the distance. But she tended to sleep in when she could, the early waking hours were new from when he’d known her on the Normandy.

The shower isn’t running, nor is the sink. Nothing’s missing from where she usually keeps her valuables, her ‘tool bracelet is still haphazardly around the base of the lamp on her side of the bed, half apart from where she’d been tinkering with it yesterday evening. Then she hadn’t left the apartment, at least. Nothing’s been moved in the kitchen either.

Kaidan finds her nursing a mug of probably coffee by the sliding glass doors in the living room instead, leaning against a corner of the wall with a blank stare out and up. She’d thrown a sweater on over her pants, folded in on herself with her hair loose around her shoulders. She looks smaller than he’s ever seen her willingly be. He can’t quite read her from her profile, but she notices him before he can say anything. Kodelyn’s a little startled when she realizes he’s there, before relaxing again with a smile, “You’re up early.”

“I could say the same to you.”

She considers it, shrugging, “Couldn’t sleep. I didn’t want to bother.”

“Hey, you’ll never be bothering me.” He says softly, coming around to snake his arms around her waist, “Nightmares again?”

It takes her a beat too long to answer, “Not exactly. Not dreams, not nightmares. Fine for the most part.”

“The most part doesn’t answer why you left so early. Got worried.”

“No, I guess it doesn’t.” She’s not exactly dodging the question, but she’s falling back into the habit of doing so. She leans into the touch, resting her head against his shoulder, “Stressed, I guess.”

“Something going with the reconstruction efforts?”

“No. That’s taken care of for the most part. Something. It’s...hard to describe. All of it just feels...wrong.” Kodelyn’s searching for words, sipping at the mug again while she thinks, turning over her shoulder to look at him. Confusion’s running across her expression, “I don’t know.”

“We can talk about it if it’d make you feel better.” This is the first he’s hearing of it. Usually one or the other of them would occasionally be up from dreams, sometimes they’d talk, sometimes they wouldn’t, but she’s never quite described them like this.

He lets her go so she can pad back towards the kitchen, wincing as she just narrowly misses a wall. She lets go of the mug, placing it down on the counter, running a hand through her hair, “The longest I ever spent in a place? A year. Tops. Maybe a few months on top of that. But this? I’ve been here for nearly two years now.”

Kaidan can’t exactly figure what she’s talking about, “If you don’t like it in Vancouver, I can see what we can do.”

“No. It’s not here. I like it here. I think. That’s not what’s bothering me. It’s something about the fact that, I don’t know, there’s routine now. There’s not a new crisis to face every other day. I have a room bigger than what I know what to do with. I don’t wake up and fall asleep to the stars anymore. I’m not living out of a box knowing I could move away at any second. Hell, I have a mug with my name on it now, and I don’t worry about it getting packed up somewhere and never seeing it again.” She’s pacing around the island now, thoughts spilling out left and right before halting just at a corner too quickly and hitting her hip against it. Kodelyn pauses at it, as if she doesn’t even register the pain, before turning her gaze up to him, “I’m not used to this. I’m not used to having constants like this. I don’t have physical homes, I never have.”

He’s not sure how to answer that. Unlike her, he’d had a home. He grew up here, lived here. There were memories he made here that he never could’ve anywhere else. The walls that built the home out there were the same walls he’d seen everyday of his childhood and every time he came home. No matter how many pictures went up, how many dents or nicks in the paint came of the children and family that inhabited it, The orchard would always be home to him.

She never had an orchard, metaphorical or otherwise, is what he’s guessing.

“You miss moving ever other year?” He asks, “Or does it bother you not being on the move anymore?”

“Maybe?” She indirectly answers. Crestfallen isn’t exactly the word he’d use for her expression, but it’s somewhere close to it, “I don’t know. It just doesn’t feel real. None of it does. Like I’ll wake up any moment and I’ll be back on the Normandy, or Arcturus. But not here.”

“Real?” Kaidan asks. He can relate. After everything they fought for, coming back to Earth feels more like a fantasy than their new reality. He’s still struggling with it, but it’s been eating at her more than it has been him since the war ended, “It’s as real as it can get, Kodelyn. I assure you, we’re still here, and this isn’t a dream.”

“Doesn’t feel right for everything after the war to come anywhere close to good. Happy, even.” Kodelyn runs a finger over the rim of her mug, propping her head up on the counter to hold up her head, “A home’s for forever. Lives like this are supposed to be forever. I don’t know if I can comprehend the whole ‘forever’ idea after thinking I was dead twice in a row. Feels like there’s one more thing I didn’t remember, one more thing that’ll take all of this away from me.”

“Kodelyn,” He has to think on that, still blinking awake. Reaching his hand across the counter, she hesitates before taking it in her own, threading their fingers together and holding, “Nothing’s taking this away from you. You’re going to be okay, and this’ll be for as long as you want it to be. Sometimes that unknown can be fun.”

Kodelyn doesn’t quite believe him, but a tired smile appears while she rubs a thumb over his knuckles, “You and I may have different definitions of fun.”

“Yeah?”

“Usually my fun comes with something I can plan for, not whatever comes over the horizon.” She answers. It definitely fell in line with how he’d met her, and held true up until now. Her expression dims, focusing on their hands again, “I’ve never really had a home like this. Not somewhere I can say I ever stayed and thought of as more than just a launching pad towards the next adventure. My sort of home is a person. It’s always been my family.”

“Do you want to go and see them?” He’d never been to the fabled Shepard home, but if it’d make her feel better about civilian life, then they might as well visit.

“No. No that’s alright. Everyone’s busy, and the lake house is gone anyway. Damn Reapers took it.” Kodelyn shakes her head. Even though she says homes never mattered much to her, her eyes tell a different story. It meant more to her than she’s letting on, but he doesn’t press the subject. She squeezes his hand, “My home is you, now. I think that’s why I haven’t gone careening off-course completely yet. You’re home. And I think every other day I’m just scared of losing it all again. Losing...you, again.”

That hits him in a way he didn’t expect. This wasn’t something he’d ever guessed from her. She made it clear that she cared a great deal about him, their love for each other was mutual. But she never verbalized that fear. He’d seen it a few times before, when she’d been too late to come to his side, or more specifically, the few times she came to visit in the hospital. It went both ways, but he was more likely to tell her that, and had done so before. Vulnerability to her inner thoughts wasn’t often something he really heard, and her tone, however quiet, screams that this is something she’s been thinking about for a while. At first he wonders why she hadn’t told him, but he’s also sure she had her reasons. Whatever that reason was.

“Hey.” Kaidan says softly, waiting until she looks up at him again. As if to solidify his point, he squeezes her hand back, “I’m not going anywhere.”

“This?” He gestures to her left hand, the silver band still resting on her ring finger, “Till death do us part, remember?”

“Not sure I like the possibility of death to begin with, Kaidan. Not you.” Her voice is a little strained over that, “Not again.”

Not again.

“I’m not leaving you. Never. I’m not going anywhere.” He responds, “You won’t lose me. I promise”

At that, some of the tension loosens from her shoulders, “I don’t know what I’d do if I did. I don’t want to think about it, but sometimes...sometimes things get away from me.”

“I know.” He nods, “We’re going to be okay. You’re going to be okay.”

“Okay.” She parrots him, some of her earlier smile starting to reach her eyes, “I believe you. Think, maybe I just needed to hear it out loud. Gets pretty hard to ignore when its bouncing around and you can’t shut it off by yourself.”

“I get that.” The sun is starting to rise over the city, and Kodelyn circles the island. She leans her head against his shoulder, wrapping her arms around him to pull him closer. 

She sighs against his chest, “Thank you. For everything.”

“Of course.” He presses a kiss to her forehead, “I love you.”

“Love you more.” She responds back, sleepy, but wholeheartedly.

[layce2015]

The Last of Us Part 2 (Joel Miller x Reader)

What If (y/n) Died pt. 3

The Last of Us Part 2 Masterlist

Joel was able to fix the radio and started to listen to the transmissions that was going on between the WLF. He knows he should be resting but even if he tried he'd still get no rest as everytime he closed his eyes, he would see her bashed in head. It had been weeks since the event happened but it still felt like it was yesterday when he danced and reminisced with her about their wedding.

So he sat and listened through the radio and decipher their conversation and look through the map Ellie found when they first got there. He also flipped through the pictures of Abby and her group that they found when they went to the TV station and tried to listen for their names. He had it mostly figured out when Ellie came in to check up on him. "Have you even slept?" She asked him, concerned. "Couldn't sleep." He mutters as he looks through the map and listens to the transmission.

"How'd you get it to work?" Ellie asked, gesturing at the radio. "Just a loose connection was all that was wrong with it. Antenna." He replied and she gives a slight nod. "Anything about Abby?" Ellie asked him. "No, not yet." Joel replied then a voice comes through talking about a lone male shooter in an old suburb area that was not far from this theater. The two share a look then they get up, grab their bags and head out.

The two traveled over and fought off many WLF soldiers and found out that the lone male trespasser was actually Jesse. "What the hell are you doing here?" Joel asked him after he pulls the two into safety. "You think I'd let you guys do this on your own?" Jesse asked them. "Please tell me Dina didn't come with you." Ellie said, worried. "No, she stayed to help Matia watch Ethan and Aiden." Jesse replied. "I'm alone." 

"Oh God." Ellie groans and Joel sighs at this. "Hey, give me shit about it later." Jesse said then he shows the two a truck he spotted nearby. Then three took out some soldiers, stole the keys and climbed in the truck. 

Jesse started the truck just as more soldier came in. Joel and Ellie then started to fire at the oncoming threat as Jesse swerved their way around the neighborhood until they ran into some infected. They fired at them and killed as many as they could until Jesse drives them into a lake and they crash into it, climbed out of the truck and swam back up to the surface.

Once they made it out, safely, the three made their way back to the theater and began to rest for the afternoon, or at least Ellie and Jesse did. Joel still stayed up and listened to the radio transmission to hear about any of Abby's people.

Eventually, something interesting came up. Joel overheard a transmission about a woman, Nora, and her unit were  assigned to a hospital and they were packing up their stuff and getting ready to leave. Joel stands up and grabs his bag then starts to walk put of the room and down towards the front door. 

Ellie noticed him leaving and she goes over to him. "Where you going?" She asked him. "Got a lead to the hospital. This girl, Nora, is there and I have to get to her before they leave cause their packing up and leaving soon." Joel replied. "I wanna come with you." Ellie said and Joel looks her over.

"What about Jesse?" Joel asked her. "I'll let him know and he can stay here and rest." Ellie said and Joel nods. Ellie goes to tell Jesse their plan and her and Joel head out.

It was a long walk but they eventually made it to the hospital. And all it took was to fight their way through infected and the new factions, the Seraphites, which they knew the WLF were fighting. But they made it and snuck their way through until they finally found Nora, and even better she was alone.

"Don't scream." Ellie ordered as her and Joel aim their guns at her. She stops and looks over at them, shocked, then Joel gesture at her with his gun. "Put that shit down." He said, firmly, and she sets the box down then turns to them, her hands raised up.

"You remember us?" Ellie asked her and Nora looks at her and a look of recognition flashes across her face. "Yeah...you remember us." Ellie said, in a soft growl. "What do you want?" Nora asked us. "Where is Abby?" Joel asked, in a low voice.

"I don't know." Nora replied and Ellie takes a couple steps forward, her gun still trained on Nora. "You two shoot me... the sound will have every solider come running." She said, who flinched back a bit. "You'll still be dead." Joel growls.

Nora looks between them. "We coulda killed you two." She said. "Maybe you should have." Joel mutters in anger. "Or maybe you should've stayed the fuck out of Jackson." Ellie said, angrily.

"Where is Abby?" Joel asked, angrily, as he stepped forward, aiming his gun at her, she flinches back. "Do you still hear her screams?" Nora asked, making Ellie and Joel stop in their tracks. "What?" They said, confused. "I still hear them. Every night...." Nora said, shakily, and Joel tightens his grip on his revolver.

Then Nora starts to stand up a little bit taller and glares at them. "Yeah...yeah, that little bitch got what she deserved. And you, old man, should've died with her." She said, in a firmer voice, and anger flared in Joel's chest. Nora tried to attack him but Joel was able to stop her and knocks her out. 

Joel and Ellie share a look before they pick her up and take her into a different part of the building. They tie Nora up to a chair once they found a room that was away from prying eyes and listening ears.

Once Nora woke up, Joel began to interrogate her on Abby's whereabouts. At first, she wouldn't give any information until Joel started to use his tactic of interrogation, which of course was using violence. He found a pipe nearby and used it on Nora to get her to talk.

Every hit the pipe made, Nora would cry out in pain but Joel didn't care. This woman helped on the death of his wife.

Ellie, on the other hand, was startled on how violent Joel was becoming. She has seen him do horrible stuff but this was going over the edge as she watched in shock and horror as Nora's face was becoming bruised, bloody and busted. Which it weirdly reminded Ellie about (y/n)'s face when she died. 

This made a conflict within Ellie, one one hand Nora deserves this but on the other hand she wasn't the one who swung the club at (y/n). And Ellie started to wonder if this was worth it and she began to worry about Joel.

Eventually, Nora told Joel and Ellie where Abby was hiding so the two made it back to the theater. Joel knocks on the door and Jesse opens it and lets them in. Joel tells Jesse about the information that Nora gave them while Ellie glances at them then she walks off, upset. 

Joel noticed this and gave a worried look towards her as he talks to Jesse about their next plan. After he talked to Jesse, Joel sighs at this then starts to walk over to the theater and picks up the guitar and starts to play, trying to keep his mind busy.

Jesse walked over to Joel, who had fallen asleep in the theater chair after he finished playing guitar, and starts to wake him up. Joel wakes up and looks up at him, Jesse tells him that as far as he knows Tommy hasn't found Abby but that the three of them should make their way to the aquarium in case he makes it there.

Joel agrees and the two men go to the lobby area and meet up with Ellie before the three head out.

They make their way through the city when they see a Ferris Wheel some distance away. Ellie shows them that the aquarium is right next to it and they make their way to it. After fighting some infected and a few soldiers, they make it to this old mall area where they overhear some of the soldiers talking about a sniper. Some of the soldiers left to go help out with the sniper problem while Joel, Ellie and Jesse make their way up on the upper floors of the mall.

Joel noticed them using boats and got the idea that they need that boat to get to the aquarium. Joel turns to the two and was about to go over the plan on stealing that boat when Jesse said. "They're talking about Tommy. We have to go save him."

"Okay, well you two go ahead. I'm going to the aquarium." Joel tells them and Ellie furrows her brow at this. "What? You've got to be kidding me, Joel? We've got to get Tommy and get out of here." She said. "He'd probably be gone by the time we get there." Joel said and Ellie gives him a confused look.

"Look, the best way to help Tommy, is by going after Abby..." Joel said, determined. "Are you kidding me, Joel?" Ellie asked, angrily. "Yeah, man. This is fucked up. I mean, thats your brother out there." Jesse said and Joel looks between then before he lets out an exasperated sigh.

"You two listen to me...." he started to say but Ellie shakes her head. "No, Joel, I'm done listening! We are going to get to Tommy and start making our way back to Jackson." Ellie said. "No, we're not!" Joel said, his voice rising in anger. Then he gives a harsh look to Ellie. "I thought you wanted to help me?" He asked.

"I did, but after everything I've seen....I'm starting to wonder if this is worth it." She said then Joel scoffs at this. "Whatever....you two can go after Tommy, I'll make my way to the aquarium." He said and he starts to turn to leave but Ellie grabs his arm.

"Joel, why the hell are you so determined to go after Abby? I mean, I know she killed (y/n) but...is this really worth it?" Ellie asked and Joel turns back to her, sharply. "Yes!" He said, roughly. "Why? You're gonna get yourself killed!" She said. "Because it's all my fault!" Joel yells and Ellie's eyes widen at this.

Joel let's out a heavy sigh before he said. "I failed her. I failed to protect her." He looks down and closed his eyes, trying to keep back the oncoming tears. "Joel, it's not your fault. You did all that you could." Jesse said but Joel shakes his head.

"It was suppose to be me...that woman was about to shoot my leg, but (y/n)....s-she pushed me out of the way and got hit instead." Joel said, shakily. "She wanted to protect you." Ellie said, softly, but Joel shook his head again. "It was my job to protect her, I promised her that. And I failed her." He said then he looks back towards the two as a tear runs down his face.

"So I'm going after Abby...to avenge (y/n). If you guys don't want to come with me then that's fine, just meet up with me at the aquarium." Joel said and Ellie gives him a sad look. "Well, I hope you make it." Ellie said then she walks over to Jesse and the two start to head for the marina and Joel goes down to grab a boat and make his way to the aquarium.

[illuminated-cowboy]

Stag Serenade

Chapter 2

Wildfire

 Arthur shoved his hand into the dirt, feeling absolutely nothing as he phased right through it. He pulled through, trying to dig up at least a small amount of the loose soil, but he couldn’t manage.

An idea occurred to him, maybe he couldn’t dig up his body, but if he could get to his body, maybe he could dig himself out?

He reached in again, attempting to pull himself through while not being able to push off anything. He just floated in place in the dirt, kicking his feet as he tried making sense of the physics of being a ghost.

He realized there weren’t any.

“Come on, there’s gotta be a way to do this.”

“Are you still trying to get to your body?” a disembodied, yet not unfamiliar, voice embarked.

Arthur groaned, knowing it was his immortal curser again, “Yes I’m still trying to get to my body, dumbass!”

“Here, I’ll make this a bit easier for you.” With the sound of a finger snap, Arthur found himself face to face with his own body, cold dirt surrounding his almost fresh corpse.

“There you are, you ugly fool.” Arthur rolled over and held his own hands, what was left of the right one at least. Like a glove, he slid himself in, relaxing until he felt a click, a bump, something. He really wasn’t sure how he’d know when he was truly back in his own body again.

“I’d like to warn you of something, Arthur.” The strange man’s voice called out again.

“And what might that be?”

“Once you’re in your body again, you will not be able to die. But, you will feel like you are dying.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean? Because so far feeling dead has just frustrating.”

“Just a warning. I felt like it would be wrong not to warn you.”

“Right, but you didn’t feel it would be wrong to offer a dumbass like me immortality only for me to think you were joking, did you?”

“Oh come on now, there are so many possibilities ahead of you. You could become the smartest man in the world by the time you’re 1000. You’ll witness firsthand all major events going forward, even the end of the world most likely!’

“Right. So how long until I-Argh!” A sudden jolt of pain made its way through Arthur’s body, his lungs felt crushed and scarred, his torn arm began bleeding heavily as every nerve began to gain feeling again and his heart started pumping his old cold blood throughout his veins.

“Fuck! You son of a bitch, fuck you!”

“Good, you made it before there was too much nerve damage. I’ll leave you to it then.”

Arthur fought against the uncomfortable feeling of dirt entering his nose and eyes, the earthy taste and unpleasant crunch filled his mouth as he screamed in agony. Realizing he could only use one arm, he reached up above his face, trying his best to angle himself in a way that he could lift himself up without packing the dirt down on his lower half.

I will kill that bastard if I get the chance, I will rip his fucking throat out for doing this to me. I just wanted to be dead already, fuck!

He felt himself moving upward, a positive result for sure. He felt a spiritual power surge through him, it helped him to keep going harder and harder despite feeling weak and exhausted.

Finally, he reached air with his hand. A couple more breaths and one final pull, and his head emerged, like a mangled newborn baby. He screamed and cursed at the world as he burst through, dragging his revived corpse away from his grave and over to a tree to rest. His arm was done for, once he had his strength back he’d have to cut it off completely.

He spit out particles of dirt and blew black snot from his nose, coughing up far more than blood in-between. He struggled to breathe, every breath felt like eternity and the satisfaction of an oxygenated lung was far from grasp. He looked to the moon to take his mind off the pain and misery he was feeling, it illuminated his dirty, dampened features and reflected off his eyes gloriously. He couldn’t see himself, but he was sure he looked like a dead man walking.

Once he was sure he had hacked up every bit of dirt and blood left in his body, he reflected on the coming sunrise, realizing an entire day had passed since he had died. This was a sunrise he was never meant to see, and he wasn’t sure if that made him feel like a badass for cheating death, or a miserable man cursed to walk a world he was never intended to walk.

He finally felt recovered enough to rise to his feet, a dull ache radiating through his body and intensifying with every step. He wasn’t sure where he was even going, but he was sure if he walked long enough, he’d end up at a lake where he could wash up eventually.

He performed a dance of dragging his feet, groaning to himself, and taking large, unplanned steps in one direction or another. Sometimes he caught himself going in a small circle, and he’d have to recalibrate and jolt himself to the opposite direction.

The sun began to beam down on his dirt coated head, so he raised an arm up to shield the sun and happened to see the movement of an animal somewhere in the distance.

The whinny of a brown filly filled Arthur’s heart with a bit of relief, finally something besides a tree to stare at as he hobbled along.

As he approached the horse, he could make out a dark brown saddle on her back.

“Oh girl, please tell me your rider owns a bathhouse.”

The horse turned, noticing Arthur’s hobbling out of the corner of her eye. He reached out a hand and looked around for her owner, “Hello!” he called out as his hand touched the filly’s velvet nose.

She gave out a content snort at his presence, at least he knew that if her owner didn’t come around soon she’d likely be friendly enough to let a strange zombie man ride her.

A familiar voice called out from the woods, effeminate and soft, “is someone there?!”

“Yes ma’am,” Arthur looked around, unsure of where the voice was coming from and unable to put the name on his tongue, yet sure he had heard this voice before, “don’t be frightened by my appearance miss, I’ve been through one hell of a night.” His gaze settled on a woman approaching from the woods, a rifle in one hand and a dead rabbit slung over her shoulder.

She looked frightened and readied her rifle. “Who are you!?”

Arthur raised his hand and lifted a brow as he realized who the woman was, “Charlotte?”

She lowered her rifle and smiled in relief, “Arthur? What happened to you?!” She ran over to him excitedly, concern and worry overtaking her face as she realized just how torn up he was.

“Boy am I happy to see you.”

“I would say the same if your arm weren’t hanging off, what happened to you Arthur?” She gently touched just above the ripped section, trying not to let her shock overtake her ability to offer help.

“Wolves. Lots of ‘em.” Arthur chuckled painfully. “Only took one of ‘em to do this though.”

Charlotte cringed in second-hand pain. “Please, let me take you back home, you’ll die like this out here.”

“Kinda wish I did die, would hurt a hell of a lot less.” Charlotte shook her head, preferring to not think of her savior rather dying than being alive. She gently turned him towards her horse, assisting him up as much as she could before attaching her catch to the saddle and lifting herself up onto her filly.

Arthur held the woman gently with his living hand, steadying himself on the mare, “So, when did you get a horse?”

“I figured she was a necessity. Bought her in town one day, she’s been very loyal. Named her Wildfire.” The filly kicked up her hooves and began transporting her riders down the trail.

“She’ll be good to you til’ her last breath. My ol’ boy died about a day ago.”

“I’m sorry to hear that. Was he ill?”

“No, no… It was, well, a rat. In a way.”

“A rat?”

Arthur tried looking for a way to describe what he meant without tainting her image of him. “I’m not a good man, Charlotte.”

“You keep saying that. But actions speak louder than words. And we are always our own worst critics.”

“It’s possible I have a chance to begin again,” he sighed, “but I’ve tried that so many times, always ends with someone getting hurt.”

“Well, you didn’t hurt me. You helped me, you saved my life. I will forever consider you my friend for that alone.”

“I was in with some bad guys. For a long time. The only ones who didn’t betray me in the end either died or left to make their lives better. And for that, I will never blame them. I should have left too.”

Charlotte slowly began to understand. “Well, it looks like you did leave. So now the question is, what will you do now?”

“I dun’ know.”

“Well, you can stay with me as long as you need to. I have an extra bed and you won’t be imposing.”

Arthur considered being stoic, denying her offer with something along the lines of “That’s alright Mrs. Balfour, I’ll get on just fine.” But instead, he sighed, and nodded to himself. “I think I could use the comfort of an indoor bed, thank you Charlotte.”

“I’m happy to hear it. I could use the company too. Maybe you can teach me some more survival skills as well!” She said cheerfully, looking behind her to catch a glance of the war-torn man. “Once you’re all fixed up, that is.”

The brown filly gave out a whinny as a fox crossed her path just a gallop away from the old cabin. Charlotte road her over to a fence post and dismounted, holding out a hand to assist Arthur down.

He chuckled as he oriented himself, attempting to first dismount alone. “In a normal world, I’d be helping you down, Mrs. Balfour.”

“Well, I’ve lost sight of whatever a normal world would be considered.”

With a shot of pain through his body, he winced, and grabbed for her hand reluctantly, trying not to fall or put too much pressure on the woman.

He tumbled down, buckling to his boots as Charlotte reached out to grab him, keeping him from falling far.

“This arm, Charlotte, it’s gotta come off.”

Charlotte’s eyes widened in response. “Shouldn’t a doctor make that determination?”

“Well, the last time I saw a doctor he told me I was dying, so I’d rather make the calls from here on out.” Charlotte wrapped an arm around him and assisted him as best she could, steadying him through every stumble and trip he endured as they made their way to the cabin.

“I don’t want you bleeding out on my watch.”

“I’ll be fine, Charlotte. I just need a good bath and a knife.”

She looked at him with pain in her eyes as she opened the door. “Well, if you think it’s for the best, I trust you.” She guided him inside to a chair, and he let out a moan of both pain and relief as he sat down.

“I feel like I could sleep forever, just right here.”

“I’m going to go get you a bucket of water and some soap and we can wash you up.” She gently patted his shoulder and grabbed a large wooden bucket by the door before heading outside to the well.

Arthur sat in silence for a moment, looking around her home. The home of a widow who, Arthur figured, was surely sufficient enough to have survived on her own.

Or maybe not. Maybe in another world, Arthur hadn’t helped her, hadn’t seen her when she needed him. And maybe nobody else had helped her either.

Maybe she was only alive because of him. The opposite of many, many people Arthur had come across in his life.

Arthur began undoing his shirt with his one good arm, getting down to the last button but finding it a struggle to actually get it off his shoulders, a mixture of pain and the lack of a second working arm being the culprit.

Charlotte walked back in; a bucket full of fresh water by her hip. “Oh, let me help you, Arthur.”

He leaned forward a tad, and she came around the backside of the chair, pulling as tenderly as she could at the blue button-up. One arm down, the healthy one at least. Coated in bruises but other than that, usable and strong.

His other arm was a different story, sticky blackened blood coating the ripped and worn fabric, she contemplated whether pulling it quickly was the right decision or pulling it slowly and possibly prolonging his pain.

He winced and turned away as she pulled it off, the blood pulling at his hair and torn skin. Fresh blood pooled on the floor in small amounts as she was careful to avoid touching the exposed flesh. Once it was off, he looked like half man, half bloodied beast.

“I’m so sorry, Arthur.”

“Hey, you didn’t attack me,” he mustered a grin as he took a good glance at his arm. The skin was completely torn away, the bone entirely dislocated from the rest of his skeleton, the forearm only hanging on by the thinnest strands of red threads, “I’d be real impressed if you did though.”

“Right. Well, I think you should get nice and clean before attempting major surgery on yourself.”

“Of course.”

Charlotte brushed her hair behind her ear before twiddling her thumbs for a second and asking, “do you need, help?”

“I do believe I might, but uh,” Arthur reached for the bucket with his good arm, “to save you the trauma, I’ll take care of the nasty bits later.”

Charlotte let out a relieved sigh. “I’ll go get something to scrub you with and a bar of soap.”

Arthur nodded in agreement. “Wouldn’t you rather we do this outside though?”

“It’s fine, I’ve been meaning to give the floor a good cleaning anyways.”

“Yeah but, this is gonna be a lot of blood and all, I don’t wanna-“

Charlotte came back from her room with a bar of soap, a hunting knife, and a couple towels. “I really don’t mind. It will be more comfortable for you in here.”

“Alright.”

Charlotte dunked the soap in the bucket, working the lather into a hand towel and taking Arthur’s good hand, rubbing the mixture up and down his arm.

Their eyes caught each other; hazel meeting blue. She refused to admit her heart skipped a beat at the sight, because despite his worn appearance and his dirt coated features, his eyes had so much more life in them than they did the last time they met.

She smiled, reaching a hand to gently touch his chin, pulling him slightly towards her as she gazed closer into those suddenly piercing eyes, “you’re healthy again, aren’t you?”

“I wouldn’t go that far.”

“You were sick when you were here last time.”

“Well, you cure one thing, you end up with a lost arm I guess.”

She chuckled as she released her tender grip and continued to clean him up, handing him the towel and reaching for a new one to wash his face with, dabbing it under his eyes and behind his ears before wetting down his untrimmed hair and scrubbing it between her fingers.

“If you don’t mind me asking, what exactly happened? I know you said it was wolves but, you look like you were buried underground.”

“Do you want the truth or do you want a lie?”

“I would prefer the truth, but if you’d rather be creative and keep the details to yourself, I’m still curious.”

“Well, I got the shit kicked out of me, died. God or Satan or whatever, he told me I was immortal now, but my body got attacked by wolves. I got buried then had to claw out of my own grave with one arm.”

“My, you are quite creative. I’ll have to keep you around for story ideas from now on.”

He smiled, “I knew you wouldn’t believe me.”

“You know, even on Cal’s deathbed he was still telling jokes too.”

He looked to her with awe. “Any man lucky enough to have you as their wife would die happily regardless of the circumstances.”

She grinned, her eyes almost tearing up. “That’s one of the sweetest things I’ve ever been told.”

“It’s been a good long time since I’ve been treated to a nice bath as well.”

“This next side will probably sting.” She said as she grabbed another clean towel and came round to the destroyed arm.

“I’ve felt worse, do whatever you need to do.”

She squeezed the towel, dripping cool soapy water down into the open wound. Arthur groaned in pain, his chest tightening as his teeth gritted against the feeling. He turned away, appearing to physically try and remove himself from the troublesome arm.

“Fuck,” he muttered through his teeth, struggling against it but knowing it had to be done, “give me the knife.”

She continued to rub down the arm, “I’m not even nearly finished getting all the dirt off-”

“Whatever is in there is in there, get me the goddamn knife!”

The woman reached for the hunting knife she had grabbed earlier from the table behind her, handing it to Arthur in one swift motion.

“Get my belt and tie it around my arm, as tight as you can.”

She hurried in front of him, kneeling and undoing the brown leather belt from his hips. Wrapping it around his arm and pulling it as hard as she could manage, blood squirting from the bottom, Arthur held the knife tightly before making one final request, “you got any alcohol?”

“Um, I have some rum in the cabinet.”

“That’ll work.”

She nodded, running for the container, and bringing it back to him. He placed the bottle between his legs, popped the top off, and took as many swigs as he could until the numbing feeling kicked in.

“I’m gonna need your help here, darlin’.”

“Anything, Arthur. I’m right here with you.”

“I’m gonna need you to hold this arm here as high as you can.”

She blinked twice. “You need me… while you…”

“I wouldn’t ask you if I didn’t need you to but it’s gonna go a lot smoother if you do.”

“Okay.” She grasped his hand, cold deadened fingers between her own, and pulled the arm vertically, moving down to hold it by the length just before the wound.

Arthur stuffed a towel in his mouth, readied the knife, and began slicing into the flesh, screaming muffled into the towel as his entire body contracted in pain.

Charlotte held strong, looking away as blood splattered on her blue dress. With one final push, the arm came off, and the stump that remained poured with red liquid as Arthur tossed the knife and held the stub up as high as he could, pulling the belt tighter around it.

He spit out the towel onto the floor. “Candle!” he shouted, nodding to a candle that happened to be lit in the corner.

Charlotte dropped the arm and ran for the candle, handing it to her wilderness survival man without putting it out. He rubbed away as much of the blood as he could with a towel, then held the stump to the candle flame, trading his stinging pain for a burning pain.

The worst was over as he finished his self-surgery, laying back in the chair as Charlotte took the candle away. She returned to offer him more rum, to which he nodded and opened his mouth, silently begging that she pour it in and not stop.

With a bloodied arm on the floor, pools of suds and human liquids leaking from Arthur like a dripping pipe, he took one final moan and relaxed his eyes. “Thank you, Charlotte.”

“It’s no trouble,” she looked to the arm, the mess, the bloodied beautiful man in her chair, “I’ll go bury that in the back before it decomposes. Please, call for me if you need anything.”

And with that, Arthur was armless. He took one last look at the cold, bluish body part as Charlotte wrapped it with a towel and walked it out the door.

He picked up the rum and took another swig, the pain dulling his drunken state, yet still feeling the need to smile and say to himself, “I’m unarmed!” He giggled like a madman, trying to continue holding his brand-new stump above his arm, taking more sips in-between uncontrolled laughter, the majority of the rum dripping onto his beard and chest rather than his mouth.

By the time Charlotte returned, Arthur was far gone, flying high and performing a mixture of moaning in pain and giggling in pleasure.

“My angel!” He shouted at her. She took the bottle from his hand and rubbed some suds out of his hair.

“Do you want to keep bathing tonight or-”

“I will tell you,” he hiccupped and pointed a finger up, “what I want.”

Charlotte looked at him concernedly. “And what might that be?”

“I want for you to just give me the gentlest of kisses, right here,” he pointed to his forehead, “because women’s lips, they heal all wounds.”

She smiled, and kindly humored him, pressing her lips tenderly to his forehead. He pulled her close, his one good arm wrapping gently around her waist and pulling her in for a hug. She held his head under her breast, fingers trailing his cheek as she further indulged his desires for human touch.

“It’s been a while, darlin’.”

“Since?”

“Since I was loved.” He looked up at her, eyes looking even more pained than when he was cutting off his own arm. “I loved only so many women, and they didn’t love me, Charlotte. They used me, they used me and they left me when I couldn’t be what they needed. And that’s on me, I’m a horrible bastard.”

“No, Arthur, that’s on them honey.”

“No it ain’t, Charlotte. I hurt them bad, and I’d hurt you too if you got too close, but, I wanna be close to you. And I ain’t never wanna hurt you.”

“That’s enough of that,” she pulled away with kindness, holding his hand with both of her own in an effort to guide him somewhere to lay down, “come to bed, sleep this off and we’ll figure out the rest when you’re feeling better.”

He stumbled to his feet, holding her hands like they were precious jewels, looking at their every detail through his blurred, drunken vision, “I don’ wanna hurt you, Charlotte.”

“Don’t you worry about any of that right now, come with me.” She wrapped her arm around his back and assisted him into her guest bedroom, laying him down gently on the bed, holding his arm up and resting it on a pillow by his head.

She pulled out a blanket and laid it over his bare chest, keeping him warm for the rest ahead.

She kissed his forehead once more, wishing him a goodnight without words, then closing the door behind her to give him some privacy.

Arthur came in and out of a blacked-out state, desiring to go wander the halls and find Charlotte again to continue his self-deprecation, to show her and prove what an awful man he is, and why she would be right to toss him out and let him suffer. But she wasn’t going to do that, and he wondered if he really made such an impression on her that she would now trust him like this.

He could easily hurt her, maybe not physically but surely emotionally. That’s why Mary left him, right? He couldn’t change. He wasn’t redeemable.

But either she didn’t believe he would hurt her, or she didn’t care. Maybe she had been through the same pain as him, enough so that she didn’t care, just like he didn’t. Or at least, just like he kept trying to convince himself that he didn’t.

[itsthegameilike]

Just some fic recs (part 2)...

It’s been a while since I’ve made a rec list and that seemed tragic to me as I’ve spent most of my quarantine surviving off fic. So here we go! The popular fics are hidden away for today and there is more Wangxian on here than I’d care to admit, but I Hyperfixated. Still, the ships are numerous and various.

Promises We Make -- Mayarene Rose; Wangxian Lan Zhan has taken to visiting the Yiling as often as he can, bringing as many rabbits as he can carry. It is not against the sect rules so there's no reason for him to feel guilty about it. And after all, he made a promise. Or the one where Lan Zhan sneakily moves into the Burial Mounds and this may or may not have helped stop a lot of bad things from happening. **If you’re feeling sad, this is the fic for you. It can take any bad day and make it better. Lan Zhan brings every goddamn rabbit in Cloud Recesses to the Burial Mounds a few rabbits at a time just as an excuse to visit Wei Ying. Then he kind of just stays? And everyone loves him? And Wei Ying is an absolute dumbass about the whole thing? Which tracks.

Screw Poetry, It’s You I Want -- intertwiningsouls; Pynch Adam tries to navigate a crush on his best friend, his first time having a group of friends during the holidays, and the mysterious notes that keep showing up in his locker. **Fair warning this fic is not finished and on hiatus, but I still think it is absolutely worth reading anyway. I reread it often and then get sad it’s not updated, but, you know, fic writer’s lives are hard. I know this deeply. Anyway, it’s soft, it’s cute, and Ronan is perfect.

apastron -- kissmesexybatman; Shatt "This was the mission: three people were set to travel half a year out to the edge of the solar system, traversing space no human eyes had ever seen, to explore the possibility of life in the most extreme of conditions." The first six months of the Kerberos Mission. **This fic is quiet and meditative and a little lonely, but it is so, so beautiful. I loved it the first time I read it and I love it now. There’s some very good ace representation and love just pours from this fic. Love for people and love for space.

How Fragile We Are, Between the Few Good Moments -- nineandthreequarterrs; Wolfstar By the time it’s dark, there’s a fire crackling before them. The tent is set up. There are two chairs propped up by the fire. They have cooked and eaten dinner, and they are sitting in silence. It reminds Sirius of the dinners at home after he got sorted into Gryffindor, or after his mother found the letters from his friends, or lately, whenever he dares to show his face around the house at all. What lives in that space isn’t actually silence. Silence is absence. This thing that hangs between him and his mother, now between him and Remus, is the presence of something suffocating and cutting. It doesn’t serve as a placeholder for noise, it serves as a punishment. It cleaves him to the bone, flays him until he wants to cry. The soft, knotting feeling in his chest he feels when he wants to let tears out but can’t is rising in him. Sirius doesn’t know how to kill except to hiss, “Well if you’re mad at me just fucking say so.” **This takes the moment where Sirius lures Snape to the Shrieking Shack and nearly gets him killed by Remus in his werewolf form-a scene that should be utilized like this more frequently-and creates something absolutely lovely with it. The fic is quiet and subtle and deals with the abuse Sirius suffers and Remus’ rightful anger in a delicate and true way. I adore it.

Likewise Variable -- ssstrychnine; Wolfstar James has plans, Peter is the nurse, Sirius keeps fake blood up his sleeves, and Remus just tries to stay alive. **One of those classic Marauders fics where everyone is batshit crazy except Remus, who ends up doing batshit crazy things because he loves his friends. And Sirius. Especially Sirius. He ends up playing Romeo and Sirius plays Juliet and the pining and angst is unreal. A trope I’m trash for and very well executed.

flowers boldly blossoming over withered grass -- LilyMaxwell; Wangxian It’s in the dawning years after Jin Guangyao’s death that Wei Wuxian learns what it’s like to live and love without a second thought. **The first fic I found in my endless search through pages and pages on ao3 where I saw a characterization of Lan Zhan that resonated with me in the same way he did in the show. I have a thing for soft and quiet fics and this one is no exception. Lovely and beautifully written. 

Like Knives -- All_My_Characters_Are_Dead; Bakushima Bakugou was disappointed in him. Bakugou thought he was weak, thought he was useless. Bakugou knew he’d broken, and Bakugou was mad at him for it. **I love this fic a lot. It takes Bakugou’s anger and uses it to full angst advantage. Kirishima overhears Bakugou and misinterprets Bakugou’s intense worry for anger. And then emotions happen.

Garden War -- Cibee; Drarry Harry and Draco are quarantined in their houses, a lake across from one another. What better ways to spend this time than to annoy each other with letters and attempts to prove that their garden is better? **I did my best to avoid quarantine fics, but you know, easier said than done. This one is super cute. Mostly epistolary, Harry and Draco just make fun of each other and garden and then get together. Like, what the hell else do you want?

light fires at night (to push back the void) -- inthesea; Andreil The first time Andrew realizes he wants to hear the words, Neil isn’t even doing anything. He’s just sitting there, staring at the horizon with that stupidly dramatic faraway expression of his, and letting the cigarette burn down between his fingers all the way to the filter — an outrageous waste of good nicotine, if you asked Andrew. (Or: 20+ times Andrew and Neil say I love you, and one time they say it out loud.) **One of the two truly popular fics that shows up on here. This fic changed my life. It killed me and then brought me back to life. It’s essentially a series of vignettes starring Andrew and Neil and like...it hurts and it heals and it loves. I would die for this fic to continue existing even when I don’t.

the hidden source is the watchful heart -- sombregods; Wangxian Wei Wuxian comes back to the Cloud Recesses for the winter months. He and Lan Wangji learn that emotional intimacy and physical intimacy are not (yet) quite synonymous.They have time to figure it out. **I have the biggest soft spot for relationships where sex and romance aren’t intrinsically intertwined and take some time to navigate. And in my mind, Lan Zhan and Wei Ying have exactly that kind of relationship, so this fic was all I ever needed. If that’s your thing, this is a must read.

A Heart’s a Heavy Burden -- idratherhaveyou; Wangxian There was fire and magic and death, screams and blood, but rage was Wei Ying's song at night, the beast he became taking control, protecting what it could and destroying those that did harm.Years ago, when Wei Ying had newly discovered this particular power of his, when he’d picked his side—to simply fight everyone who didn’t fight for those weaker than themselves—he’d remembered more.To him, this was better. Better to forget things best forgot. **A Howl’s Moving Castle AU **A shameless self-promotion, but I love this fic to pieces, so I thought it seemed fit to add. Not quite finished, but I promise it will be. I just take two of my favorite pieces of media and have a real good time. There’s magic, Lan Zhan and Wei Ying love each other a lot, and A-Yuan does god’s work.

Siren Song -- Becky_J_1022 When Damen is cursed by a Siren in exchange for the revenge his heart desperately desires, his life is thrown into chaos, and betrayal lurks around every corner. Despite his better judgment, he allows a beautiful young man to seek berth on his ship, not knowing that he has granted refuge to the one man who has every reason to want him dead. Laurent may be the key to breaking Damen's curse, and Damen could help restore Laurent to his throne—but if they have any hope of helping each other, they will have to untangle their bitter pasts first. **Listen, man, this fic is balls to the walls fun and also everyone should read Becky’s fics. Not enough people do. She makes sentences beautiful. Just so beautiful. And she loves to and you can tell.

[oingo233]

By The Lake*Part Three

Summary:  A family friend offers you a place to stay to get away from an abusive past.  Her home is a place that you are familiar with, an old town with a large lake you spent many days in. You went there years ago for one full summer, where you became close friends with a very young Daryl Dixon.  You two were inseparable until you had to leave.  But now you’re back, escaping from a past much like his.  You will need to weave your way through the town's problematic people, your own problems, and above all the confusing Dixon.  Will you two find your way back to each other again?  Or will he push you further away?  And above all, will your past cease to haunt you?

Part one * Part Two * Part Four * Part Five

Pairing: Young Daryl Dixon x Reader

Warnings: Mentions of abuse and violence(potential triggers), cussing, more mature themes(not smut or anything tho), slow burn romance

Authors Note: Daryl Dixon is a character from the amazing show The Walking Dead, but this story is modern AU so not with all the walkers and everything.  I don’t own and I didn’t create his character.  Also this story is in no means meant to romanticize abuse, that stuff isn’t romantic. It is such a terrible, terrible thing, but it is sadly a very common thing as well.  Throughout this series I only hope that I can spread awareness about the matter, and let people know that they aren’t alone, things will get better, and that no one is deserving of any kind of abuse. Ever. Anyways, I’m done with my rant, I hope y’all like it, and if not please send in some constructive criticisms I’m always looking to improve.

Word Count: 1.7k

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I woke up to the kids screaming, at the cabin door for me to come out.  I quickly put on a bra and open the door in my pajamas.  Cherry was standing there in a pantsuit with Monty and Rosie by her side.

“Jesus (Y/N), it’s nearly 10.”  She shakes her head at me and pushes the kids inside the cabin.

“What!  That early.”  I joke, but she only humored me with a sarcastic open-mouthed laugh.  I run a hand through my messy hair and apologize.

“I’ll make a point to wake up early.  But y’all weren’t exactly detailed on the job description.” I point to the kids.  She kisses the kids goodbye on the head and stands up to face me again.

“Well my job description implies that I should have left 10 minutes ago.  And no, it is not you’re fault.”  She glares at her kids and then glances over her shoulder.  

“Mark didn’t help me at all this morning.  Daryl came over earlier than usual, something bout having less time than he thought.  Whatever, my point it that the kids are your problem now.”  She smiles at me then bolts out the door before Monty or Rosie can chase after her.  I watch her car leave with a sense of dread and excitement.  How in the heck am I supposed to keep these guys from dying of boredom?

I stare at the two of them, Rosie is sitting on my bed, and and looking out the window right into the lake...The lake!  Cherry said how Rosie loves to swim, and I’m sure Monty wouldn’t mind spending this hot day in the water. Even Mark said a day in the lake would keep them happy. 

“Would you guys like to play in the lake today?”  Rosie jumps off the bed and screeches a yes, while Monty looks at me with puppy eyes and nods his head a million times. I match my excitement to theirs and usher them outside. I get dressed into my bathing suit, while they sit on the porch waiting. I don’t bother with a shirt after my bathing suit is on, I just put on some shorts and sandals.  

As soon as I walk outside Monty and Rosie hop off the chairs and wait for me to lock the door.  When I’m done they grab both of my hands and drag me to their house.  We nearly tripped five times getting there, but finally the house came into view.  Sounds are coming from the open garage not too far away.  Some tool was going off and when it stopped a voice filled it’s place.  Daryl’s voice.  My heart dropped, he sounds a bit different but I could tell his voice from a mile away. I shake my head from any thoughts of him and walk us all forwards. The front door was unlocked so we went inside.

“Alright you two, I want you to go put on your suits and sunblock.  Grab anything else you want, and I’ll make us a picnic. You guys like that plan?”  Rosie and Monty looked at each other, nodded, then took off sprinting to their separate rooms.  

5 minutes later I had two sandwiches done, and 3 bottled waters beside them.  I run a mental list of what I need, towels, extra sunblock, food, water, a camera, maybe some toys, and whatever else I can think of.  I finish the last sandwich and grab some fruits and snacks from the fridge, which Cherry and Mark said I have free reign of.  I had my camera in the bag I brought, and I saw some sunblock in the bathroom last night.  All I need are the towels.  

I spent several more minutes trying to find those damned things, but couldn’t see them anywhere.  I brace myself for what is to come.  I have to ask Mark, and Mark is with Daryl.  

I make my way outside of the house and towards the open, metal shed.  I can see the body of the car just slightly sticking out of the garage.  I brace myself as I walk in.  Instead of my eyes finding Daryl's again, they are faced with Marks hunched over back.  Daryl was no where to be seen.  Mark was bent over the hood, fixing something with the engine I guess.

“Uh, Mark?”  I call over the loud noises.  Mark whips around and nearly hits his head on the open hood of the car.  He chuckles to himself and gives me a warm smile.  He has oil up the back of his neck, and cheek.

“Oh, hey (Y/N).”  Suddenly the loud noise stops and Mark and I hear a loud crash, followed by a sheepish “ow”.  Mark leans over the car.

“You alright Daryl?”  My cheeks burn red as Daryl emerges from under the car.  He had grease and dirt all over him, covering his deep blush, the sight of him took my breath away.  If I thought he was cute at 14...well, if my 13 year old self saw him now, I don’t even know what she would do.  Daryl avoids eye contact with me, but nods to Mark.

“M’ fine.” He mumbles.  He shuffles his feet and the air seems thicker, like he also thought this should be going different.  We should be hugging, and catching up.  But instead we can’t even look at each other without wanting to drool, or runaway.

Mark turns to me, eyeing the two of us with a sly smile.  I can only imagine how Cherry talked us up to be.  I fight the urge to roll my eyes at the thought of Cherry telling Mark all about Daryl and I when we were younger.

“Something wrong with the kids?” Mark asks me.  I quickly shake my head.

“No, they’re inside getting ready for the lake.  We’re going to be over there if you need us.”  I suddenly forgot my question for Mark when out of the corner of my eye, I saw Daryl trail his eyes over me, taking me in.  I could watch him all day, looking at me like that.  Maybe I should wear this bathing suit more often.

“That all?”  Mark asks me kindly.  I laugh stupidly, god I was standing there like an idiot.  

“Uhm no, sorry.  I was wondering where the towels were?” 

“Oh sure thing.  Let me go get them for you.” Before I could stop him, Mark is out of sight and going towards the house.  Anxiety courses through me as I turn to Daryl.  But all those feelings go away when we lock eyes, we were friends once, why the hell am I so nervous?  He isn't a stranger, right?  Neither of us said a word, I wanted to say hi, or something witty but I just couldn’t get a word out.  He looked at me different, his mouth pulled in a thin line instead of that easy smile he wore years ago.  He was the first to break the silence.  

“How long you stayin’ this time?”  His voice was harsher than I ever remember it being.  It takes me a second to gather my wits.  

“I don’t know Daryl.” I thought I saw his chest still when I said his name, like he was holding his breath.  But he lets out a dry laugh and looks to the floor again.  

“Why you slummin’ it anyway?”  He said with his eyes trailing around us, then finally setting to a glare at me.  His question felt like he poked me with a sharp stick. Who did he think I was?

“This ain’t slumming it Daryl.”  I say sharply, he rolls his eyes and and scoffs.  A bitter sound.  

“Then why’d you make to leave so quick?” He shoots back. Before I could speak he cuts me off. “Nah, I bet you couldn’t wait to go back.  Princess goes back to her castle, leaving the lot of us behind.” He sets his tool down and walks around the car, getting closer to me as he spoke. “Like wiping your hands of fucking filth aint’ it.”  He seethed at me. I feel my own anger rise, why was he being like this?  

“You think I wanted to leave you!  That I wanted to leave this place.  Daryl you were my friend, my best friend.  I would’ve stayed if I didn’t have school, you know that.” I say. His jaw clenches and he walks behind me, bumping my shoulder, he grabbed a rag and wiped his hands from grease.   He smells like gas, sweat and cigarettes.

“Ya, well I don’t want no friends. You ain’t no different from any of ‘em!” He couldn’t look at me now, he threw the towel down on the table and walked back around to where he was before I disrupted him. My chest heaved and constricted.  How could he say that?  I had to go so many years ago, I had to leave him...

Mark cheerfully walks in with a stack of colorful towels in his arms.  Clearly oblivious to the tension in the room.

“Here ya go!”  He hands the towels to me and a Coke to Daryl.  “Back to business then?”  Mark jokes.  Daryl grunts a reply and picks up his tool again, giving me the cold shoulder.  I hold a snarky comment back and turn to Mark.

“Thanks Mark.  I’ll get out of your way then.” I say the last part a bit harsher than I meant to, but It wasn’t directed towards Mark.

I rush out of there, and take a few seconds to breath.  I refuse to cry, this is going to be a good day.  I walk back to the house to see Rosie standing there in a blue, ruffled bathing suit, and Monty in green swim trunks.  He was holding onto a large dinosaur floatie, that looked more like the loch ness monster.  I beam at their cuteness, feeling better already.  I tell them to hold on while I go inside to finish putting the picnic things in a bag.  I was only gone a couple of minutes before I walk out to find them with white streaks all over their body.  In my absence they put sunblock on, badly may I add.  I laugh and help them rub it in.

You three make your way to the lake, completely oblivious to Daryl’s gaze, and his sad, hidden smile, as he watched you walk away.

[swanqueeneverafter]

The Once & Future Queen Pt.15

Forest. (Morgana rides deep into the forest. She pulls her horse to a stop once reaching a cave which sits beneath a large tree. Dismounting, Morgana looks around for a moment before entering the mouth of the cave.) Storybrooke. The Dragon’s Lair. (In a quiet corner of the bar, Drizella tells Emma and Regina what she knows.) Drizella: "I overheard Morgana talking in her sleep and then she hauled me out of that pit to ask me questions about him." Regina: "Merlin? You're sure of it?" Drizella: "Yeah, she wanted to know everything I knew about him. Apparently Merlin's the one guy Morgana didn't do her research on." Emma: "And what did you tell her?" Drizella: "Just stuff that everyone knows. He's the father of magic, that you guys released him from his confinement and then put him back inside the tree." Regina: "Wait, you didn't tell her how we released Merlin from the tree, did you?" Drizella: "Well nothing specific, I mean I might have mentioned something to do with Henry's tear. But I read about that in the storybook." Regina: (To Emma:) "If Morgana knows about the tear then that could be why she sent Will after Henry. She needed a tear of heartbreak from him." Emma: "Yeah well, compromised or not, remind me to kick Will's ass sometime." Regina: "No, Emma think. If Morgana wanted the tear that means she wants to release Merlin." Drizella: "But if Merlin means her doom, why not leave him where he is?" Regina: (Shrugs:) "Presumably she doesn't like the idea of there being someone out there who's destined to stop her." Emma: "So Morgana wants to release Merlin so she can kill him once and for all?" Regina: "But she never got the tear because we got to Will first. So with a bit of luck..." Emma: "Will still might have the tear on him." Regina: "It's worth a shot at least." Emma: "Yeah, and I can kick his ass while we're there." Regina: "First things first, let's just get that tear." Drizella: (As Emma and Regina stand:) "So I did good, right? By telling you all this?" Emma: "Yeah, you did good." Regina: "Now all you have to do is prove you can keep your hands away from my son, and we might just begin to get along." Drizella: (Nods:) "Got it." Regina: "Make sure you do. (To Emma:) Come on, let's go."

Cave. Continued. (Morgana enters the cave. As she passes by, a figure rises up behind her. Morgana turns to face the eyeless Dochraid.) Morgana: “I come in peace.” (Morgana steps forward and the Dochraid grabs her hand and sniffs it. Morgana is startled and confused, but doesn’t move.) Dochraid: “Ah, Morgana Pendragon. You are destined to bring back the old ways. (The Dochraid releases her hand:) I hope to live to see that day.”

Morgana: “You are one of the few people who remember the time of the Old Religion. I need your help. (Morgana takes the Dochraid’s hand and places the coin in it:) It was a gift from my sister.” (The Dochraid inspects the coin.) Dochraid: “Ah, a most interesting present.” Morgana: “The price of a soul.” Dochraid: “But you do not know how to release it. (The Dochraid holds the coin to herself:) I should like to keep it. (Morgana holds out her hand to get it back and gently forces the Dochraid to return the coin:) The gift is indeed a powerful one, but there’s only one way to wield that power. You must travel to the last of the five gateways that separate our world from the world of the dead.” The Land of Oz. Past. Forest. (Zelena and Stanum walk past an ominous pile of bones.) Stanum: “We must be near the monster's den.” Zelena: “Well, then let's get on with it. There's a village full of Munchkins I still need to terrorize tonight.” Stanum: “You know, it's just the two of us, Zelena. You don't have to pretend anymore.” Zelena: “Pretend what?” Stanum: “That you'd rather be doing something else.” Zelena: “All right, Stanum, tell me why am I out here helping you?” Stanum: “Because you have nothing better to do. And you'd rather be out in the woods with an old friend than sitting alone in that Emerald Castle of yours.” Zelena: (Scoffs:) “That couldn't be further from the truth. I've got lots of important work to do back at my chambers.” Stanum: “Such as?” Zelena: “Creating one of the most powerful spells ever to exist, one that will allow me to travel back in time.” Stanum: “Ah. And where exactly do you plan on going with this time-travel spell?” Zelena: “Back to the beginning, to when my mother gave me up, to show her I'm more powerful than my sister, that I'm the one she should have kept.” Stanum: “Seems like you're going to an awful lot of trouble to be with someone who didn't want you to begin with.” Zelena: “Careful. The last person to speak so freely to me is now peeling bananas with their feet.” Stanum: “Yeah. Well, you wouldn't be so upset unless what I was saying was true.” Zelena: “Well do you have a better idea of how I can get what I want?” Stanum: “As a matter of fact, I do.” (Before Stanum can say more however, he is tackled by the beast in the woods.)

Zelena: (The Lion roars:) “No!” Stanum: “Ahh!” Zelena: (Conjures a fireball:) “I'm the only one who hurts people in these woods.” (Zelena stalks towards the beast while Stanum screams for help.) Storybrooke. Present. Library. (Will Scarlett browses through the book shelves in the personal help section of the library. Seeing a book that catches his attention, Will takes it off the shelf, flips through a few pages, then attempts to smuggle the book down his trousers.) Belle: "Will!" Will: "Oh, I was just joking. I knew you were watching me." Emma: "Will." Will: (Spins around to see Regina and Emma. To Belle:) "Bloody hell, there was no need to call the Sheriff. (To Emma:) Response times have improved I see." Regina: (Standing between them, her hand raised cautiously:) "We're not here for that." Emma: "Although I do suggest you take that book out of your pants and, if you're not gonna check it out, preferably wipe it and put it back." Will: (Sheepishly removes the book from his trousers:) "No harm in improving oneself is there ladies? (Puts the book back:) Now, how may I help you?" Regina: "We think we know what Morgana ordered you to do while you were under the Fomorroh's influence." Will: "Oh aye? And you realise I had no say in the matter? That the last thing I'd ever want to do is upset your darling son?" Emma: (Giving Regina a look:) "He remembers. (To Will:) How long have you known what you did?" Will: "Memory came back this morning. I figured now that Henry and Ella have patched things up, there was no use in mentioning it again." Regina: "Do you still have it?" Will: "Have what?" Regina & Emma: "The tear!" Will: "Oh, that. Yeah, hang on. (Will reaches into his jacket, pulls out the napkin and hands it to Regina:) Now is there anything else or am I free to go?" Emma: "Just watch your step. I still owe you for knocking me on my ass in the street." (Will nods and as Regina and Emma turn to speak with Belle, he grabs the book back off the shelf, tucks it in his jacket and walks casually towards the door.) Pool of Nemhain. (Morgana walks to the edge of a lake and continues walking straight into the water.) Dochraid: (V.O.) “Find the pool of Nemhain, whose waters are as black as night and as still as death itself. Cast the coin into its depths and your wish will be granted.”

(Morgana runs her fingers over the coin and tosses it into the water. It sinks into the lake and she waits. The water bubbles where the coin landed and a dark head and pair of muscular shoulders rise up out of the water. The man walks toward Morgana. It is Arthur.) Arthur: “I am yours to command, my lady.” (Arthur bows to her and Morgana smirks.) Morgana’s Hovel. (Morgana regards Arthur while he sits on her bed, eyes closed. He wakes.) Morgana: “You must be tired. You’ve been on a journey few have ever dreamed of.” Arthur: “I know not where I have been, my lady, only that I am yours.” (Arthur reaches for his sword, but Morgana stops him.) Morgana: “Slow down. You won’t be needing that. Not yet. We have work to do, but it’s not your sword I require so much as your heart. There is a woman, a former serving girl, a lowly peasant called Guinevere. Or Guin, as she’s known to her friends. She is honest and straightforward, and a simple soul. Before she was Lancelot’s, she was yours, Arthur. You were her first love. And you will be her last.” The Land of Oz. Past. (Zelena hurries through the woods in search of Stanum. Hearing the Lion's roar, she turns and faces it.) Zelena: (Lion snarling:) “These are my woods, so I think it's time you learned who's really king of this forest. (The Lion growls and stalks toward her. Conjures a fireball:) Me. (She hurls the fireball at the beast but the Lion dodges it. Roaring, the Lion pounces upon her:) Unh!”

(The Lion growls in Zelena’s face as he stands on top of her. An axe spins through the air but again, the Lion is able to avoid injury. Now returning its attention to Stanum, the Lion roars as it closes in on the man.) Stanum: (Backing away:) “Zelena!” (Getting to her feet, Zelena conjures yet another fireball and hurls it at the Lion, finally making contact with the animal. Immediately the beast begins to cower and whimper before turning tail and leaving through the trees.) Zelena: (Chuckles:) “And here I thought lions were supposed to be brave. Coward.” Stanum: “You saved me.” Zelena: “You're lucky I did.” Stanum: (Groaning as his hand turns to tin:) “Wow.” Zelena: “What's happening to you?” Stanum: “I don't have much time. This way.” (They continue on their journey, with Stanum making slow progress.) Pool of Nemhain. Present. (Xena, Gabrielle and Merida are joined by Anastasia on their hunt for Morgana.) Anastasia: "Her trail leads here." Merida: "Aye, we can all read tracks." (Anastasia ignores this and continues forward to the water's edge. Xena and Gabrielle meanwhile meander leisurely behind, enjoying the calm before the storm.) Xena: "You know, this will only lead to trouble." Gabrielle: "No doubt about it." Xena: "I thought we were out of the trouble finding business?" Gabrielle: (Scoffs:) "Come on, Xena. I saw how you were during our so-called retirement. You couldn't settle to anything and you were disappointed that others were having all the fun." Xena: "That doesn't mean I wouldn't have eased into it eventually. It takes time for a warrior to lay down her weapons willingly." Gabrielle: "Uh huh. In other words, you weren't ready and that's fine. Part of me wasn't ready either. Besides, we didn't ask for this fight. Morgana's dangerous and has to be stopped." Xena: "All right, well you just remember that if things go wrong." Gabrielle: (Smirks:) "I'm sure you'll remind me."

(Merida joins Anastasia at the water's edge.) Merida: "I suppose it's too much to hope that the bitch drowned herself?" Anastasia: "Not quite. Look. (Anastasia uses her magic and Morgana's footsteps begin to glow:) She backtracked over her own footsteps." Merida: "Almost as if she knew we were following her." Xena: "Clever girl." Anastasia: "But not clever enough. (Anastasia uses her magic again and a second set of footprints are revealed:) It appears Morgana caught herself something other than a fish for supper." Gabrielle: (Calls out, having followed the glowing footprints:) "They lead a few paces back into the forest and then vanish." Merida: "Great. So not only does Morgana know how to cover her tracks, but she has a new ally with her." Xena: "A dead one at that. (At Merida's look:) Morgana's no stranger at dealing with the spirit world. Bodies of water like this were how Gabrielle and I used to visit the Underworld." Gabrielle: (Joining them:) "Not that we made a habit of that or anything." Xena: "Nah, just once or twice." Merida: "Wonderful." Anastasia: "Not to dampen your mood any further but, once we do catch up with Morgana, what were you planning to do with her?" Merida: (Raising her bow:) "Let's just say I won't be wasting my words." Anastasia: "So you plan to shoot Morgana with one of your arrows? Charming thought. Other than the fact that no mortal blade can kill her, it sounds like a solid plan. Lucky I came along, I’d say. (Smiles:) Now come on, we're losing the daylight." (Anastasia casually brushes past Merida who turns to see Xena staring at her.) Xena: "That was an important piece of information, don't you think?" Merida: (Gruffly:) "I'll think of something." Xena: (Folds her arms:) "Sure you will." Storybrooke. (Robin and Alice react to Zelena's words.) Robin: "You're going where?" Zelena: "We are taking a quick trip to Oz. There's something I need to retrieve from my vault." Robin: "Mom, I can't. What about the bar?" Zelena: "Well Remy can handle the kitchen like he always does and Ella can handle the bar. Lucky you hired her I'd say. It'll only take us a few hours, don't worry. We can use this time to get some proper mother-daughter bonding in. You coming, Alice?" Alice: "Er... no, sorry I can't. I promised Tiana that I'd help out at the Rollin' Bayou tonight." Zelena: "Please yourself. (To Robin:) Well come on then, slow coach. Give Alice a kiss and then get your bum in this car." (Robin sighs then turns to Alice.) Robin: "Honestly, sometimes..." Alice: "I think it's a lovely idea. I know I'd love to spend time with my mum, if I could." Robin: "Don't take her side." Alice: (Smiles:) "Sorry." (They kiss.) Zelena: (Watching:) "Ah, young love." Robin: "Mom! (Stomping towards the car:) God you are so embarrassing." (Robin opens the passenger side door, enters and slams it behind her.) Zelena: (To herself:) "Oh you haven't heard the playlist I've prepared for the drive yet."

Morgana’s Hovel. Night. (Arthur sits on Morgana’s bed, sleeping. Agravaine enters and closes the door.) Agravaine: “How is it with Uther’s bastard?” Morgana: “He’s learning fast. Soon he will know enough to convince everyone he’s the Arthur we all knew. I thought it would please me, molding his mind. Instead, I feel curiously sad. He was once so mighty, and now he’s nothing but a shade. I shall be sorry to see him go.” Storybrooke. Swan-Mills House. (With Maria fast asleep, Regina stands watching over her while holding the napkin which holds Henry's tear in her hand. Unsure as to what troubles her most - Morgana's next move or the seemingly inevitable return of Merlin - Regina resolves to put such thoughts from her mind and kisses Maria on the cheek before leaving the room. Moving quietly down the hall, Regina pushes open the bedroom door expecting to find Emma already sleeping. To her surprise however, Regina sees that the bed has been turned down, but is currently unoccupied. Reaching for the light switch, Regina is stopped by a voice coming from the darkness.) Emma: "Wait. Leave the lights off. Come and find me." Regina: "Emma, I can barely see my hand in front of my face." Emma: "Use your other senses. Listen to my voice, feel your way to me." Regina: (Smiles at this new game:) "Do I get to taste and breathe you in too?" Emma: "After you find me, I'm all yours." Regina: "Mm well that's quite the prize. Although I'd prefer not to sustain a broken toe while stumbling around in the dark." Emma: (Chuckles:) "You won't, trust me. Just close your eyes and follow the sound of my voice." Regina: (Closes her eyes:) "I'd follow you anywhere." Emma: "That’s very sweet, but just to where I'm standing will do for now." Regina: "Ah, so you're standing. Interesting." (Taking care to check her surroundings thoroughly, Regina ever so slowly makes her way across the room. When her hand sweeps low and makes contact with a scantily clad thigh, Regina's eyes spring open.) Emma: "Hey there." Regina: "Hey yourself. Nice game." Emma: "Thanks. Do you want the light on now?" Regina: (Running her hands over her wife's hips:) "Hm, well it would be a shame not to see what I've won." Emma: (A smile in her voice:) "True." (Emma flicks the switch on the lamp beside her and Regina takes a step backwards to admire the curves of Emma's body in all their glory.) Regina: "I'm not sure I'm worthy of such a prize." Emma: (Watching Regina through the mirror:) "Oh, you're worthy, believe me." Regina: "Well, if you insist." Emma: "I do." Regina: (Closes the distance between them again, returning her hands to Emma's hips:) "Then perhaps... (Runs her hand over Emma's arm and covers her hand with her own:) when it comes to claiming my prize... (Breathing into her ear:) I should be the one who keeps you guessing." (Emma lets out an involuntary gasp as Regina turns out the light. Feeling her wife's body slide down her own, Emma grips the side of the dresser she's been leaning against while Regina's hands lower her underwear to the floor.)

[talkfastromance4]

For Your Eyes Only– bodyguard!ashton [Chapter Eleven]

Summary: Ashton Irwin is the head of security for Princess Alouette who is a kind, gentle young woman. Secretly pining for one another, those feelings will soon come to light as an occurrence will change Alouette’s life forever, and Ashton’s.

Word count: 2,456

Warnings: swearing

Author’s note: There’s only ONE MORE chapter after this one and this fic will be complete! Thank you so much to those who have read and messaged me about this story. This is the first multi-chaptered fic I’ve started (and almost completed) Ashton and Alouette are near and dear to my heart. Thank you for joining me on their journey! There is a link to click on near the bottom. 

donate to my ko-fi here :)

Masterlist

Chap. 1 || Chap. 2 || Chap. 3 || Chap. 4 || Chap. 5 || Chap. 6 || Chap. 7 || Chap. 8 || Chap. 9 || Chap. 10

Alouette’s never been in or near the interrogation room that’s in the guard’s building. She wraps her arms around herself as Michael leads her inside, the walls are cement and the room beyond the two-way mirror is small and boxy. 

Bright fluorescent lights hum on beyond the glass as Michael presses a button next to her. There’s a large metal tale in the center with two chairs on opposite sides of the table. A large door is on the far wall.

“What’s his name?” Alouette asks softly, turning to Michael.

“Icarus Bram,” he sighs, turning on speakers and the intercom. 

The door she and Michael just walked through opens to reveal Luke.

“Hey Mike. Princess,” Luke smiles. “Are you sure you want to do this?”

Alouette watches the big metal door swing open, an officer holds onto Icarus Bram and leads him to the table. He doesn’t look familiar to Alouette from her days with all those men. His hair is parted down the middle, dirty blond and unruly and he has a permanent smirk.

“I have to know why,” she responds, turning her gaze to Luke and Michael. 

“I’ll be in there with you the whole--”

“No. I need to do this on my own,” Alouette interrupts Michael. “He isn’t a threat.”

Michael sighs and exchanges a final look to Luke who shrugs lightly. “If he even appears to be violent, we’re coming in straight away.”

“Be careful,” Luke says, stepping aside so she can open the door.

Alouette takes a deep breath before pushing down the handle, swinging it open. Icarus smiles mirthlessly as she walks to her side of the table. The metal legs of the chair scrape on the cemented floor as she pulls it out and sits down. 

“Hello Princess,” he croaks leaning forward on the table, his hands clasped while his wrists are bound with handcuffs. “To what do I owe this pleasure?”

She eyes him, his voice now chiming a familiar bell. He was the mastermind behind the whole thing. She remembers hearing him through the speaker on the phones that the men used. 

“I think you know,” Alouette states calmly. “I’m here for answers. Answers that you won’t give to my guards.”

“And what makes you think I’ll give them to you?”

It’s Alouette’s turn to lean forward. 

“Because I’m the one you took, don’t you think I should know why?” Alouette’s voice is steely but inside she’s trembling. 

Icarus lets out a deep chuckle and rubs his hands together. 

“You aren’t as dim as people say you are, Princess. You really want to know why we did it?”

Alouette keeps her gaze steady but she can feel her heart pounding inside her chest. It makes the swans on her neck bounce lightly on her skin waiting in anticipation for his answer. 

“We wanted to see if we could take you,” he begins moving back against his chair and holds his hands up in the air as if presenting her with a prize, “and we did.”

Alouette fumes with anger, so much so that she feels her hands shake. The only reason he plotted this was because of his own personal challenge?

“That’s it?”

“That’s it. Shame your bodyguard boyfriend came ‘round, though. We were just about to get to the fun stuff--”

The door bangs open behind Alouette and before she can react, Ashton barrels across the table, grabs hold of Icarus’ head and slams it against the top. The sound of skin and bone striking against the hard metal table causes her to scream. She watches in surprise as Ashton grabs for him again but she grasps at his shirt.

“Ashton! Stop, stop!” Alouette screams and because she tells him to, he does.

He’s breathing heavily, eyes ablaze as he allows Alouette to pull him back to the door where Michael and Luke are watching, eyes wide. Icarus Bram’s officer comes in tugging him to his feet as Ashton leads Alouette to the door. 

She turns around and sees his nose and mouth is covered in blood. Ashton must have broken his nose. 

“You’re sentenced to isolation in prison for the rest of your life,” she tells him.

“I didn’t do those things to you, Princess,” he spits the blood from his split lip.

“No, but your cohorts that you ordered did under your advisement,” Alouette fires back. Her voice is calm but her eyes are aflame with the rage inside her. “They’re dead, so you will take their time.”

“I didn’t touch you!” he shouts trying to fight off the officer just as another one enters the room to aid in restraining Icarus. 

“You wanted to see what you could do, this is what I can do,” her voice is laced with venom and Ashton pushes her lightly through the door. 

“What the bloody hell was that? How could you let her be in the same room as that bastard?!” Ashton shouts pointing his finger at Michael and Luke.

“I thought you knew!” Michael defends.

“If I knew, wouldn’t you think I’d be here?” Ashton roars.

“We thought she told you not to,” Luke responds quietly then glances to Alouette who is visibly shaken. “Princess--”

“Alou--”

“Angel,” Ashton says and holds his arms out so she can fall into them. She’s shaking and gasping for breath, her nails digging into the flesh of Ashton’s arms. 

“I think she’s having a panic attack,” Michael says.

“Alouette, look at me,” Ashton lets her slide to the floor, still bracing her in his arms. Her eyes are tightly closed and he cradles her face, thumbs rubbing the tears from her eyes. “Alouette, please, look at me.”

Her eyes flicker open, big and blue and full of fear before she focuses on Ashton, but she’s still choking for air. 

“You’ve got to breathe for me, deep inhale, c’mon . . .” he watches her shudder an intake of breath. “Good, now out.”

He breathes out with her and does the exercise a few more times until she’s breathing normally and her hold on his forearms loosen.

“I’m sorry, Ash, I--”

“Shh, shh. He didn’t touch you, did he?” he asks brushing her hair from her eyes and she shakes her head. He helps her rise to her feet, steadies her and holds her close.

“We really thought you knew, Ash. I wouldn’t have--”

“I know,” Ashton nods to Michael then to Luke. “We’ll talk about this later. Right now I want to get her out of here.”

•••••

“I’m sorry,” Alouette says for what seems like the twelfth time as they’re sitting on their swing by the lake. 

“You don’t have to keep apologizing,” Ashton smiles at her but it doesn’t meet his eyes. He’s fixing up her cup of tea; green, strong and three sugars.

“But you’re mad at me.”

She watches him stir the tea, clink it on the side and place it on the table before bringing the saucer to her. He sits down heavily and places his arm behind her shoulders, his hand cups her shoulder and he leans forward to kiss her temple.

“I’m not mad at you, I promise,” he hums on her skin and gives her one more kiss. He looks into her eyes then pulls on her bottom lip with his thumb before he kisses her softly. “I was more scared than anything.”

“Why?”

“I didn’t want him to bring you back to that awful place you were in. I didn’t want him to touch you or hurt you in any way. If there’s anyone I’m mad at it’s Michael for allowing you to speak with him,” he chuckles. 

“I swore him to secrecy and I asked the favor as a friend, please don’t be mad at him. He was only trying to help me.”

They sit in silence, quietly gliding to and fro watching the sun glitter on the small waves created by the wind. Alouette sips her tea delicately and enjoys the soft touches of Ashton’s fingers on her shoulder and neck. 

“Luke said you wanted to see me,” Princess,” Calum announces suddenly behind them. 

They both turn to him, Ashton in confusion and Alouette smiling.

“Yes, thank you. Can you tell Victor I’d like to make an address to the kingdom? I’d like it to be for three o’clock, it won’t be long,” she tells him.

Calum’s dark eyes flicker between her and Ashton, usually Ashton is the one to contact Victor and set up the contingencies. 

“Uh, yes. Yes, I can do that,” Calum clears his throat and nods, giving Ashton an apprehensive look. 

“And make sure to conference call my grandmére? I’ve discussed this with her on the phone and she should be here, even if it is through a monitor.”

“I’ll get to work on it right away, Princess,” Calum nods then does a small head bow. He gives Ashton one last look before retreating back to the palace, his phone already pressed to his ear. 

“I can do all that for you, Alouette. Why are you having Cal?” Ashton asks, placing his hand on her crossed knee. 

“I know you can, but I want you standing next to me when I give my address,” she says grasping his hand in hers, “as my partner.”

•••••

Alouette changed into a pretty lilac dress suit for the address. On the platform on the main steps of her palace she was joined by Ashton on her right side with Michael, Calum and Luke perched beyond them. Sydney is there as well amongst Alouette’s other advisors and her grandmére is on a larger screen behind. 

Queen Helene is also wearing a lilac dress with her crown atop her head. Victor nods at Alouette and she steps up to the podium where multiple microphones are placed. The reporters and other film crew standing below on the gravel stand to attention.

“Hello my fellow Chadrians,” Alouette begins eloquently. “I know this is very last minute and I’ve addressed what happened to me months ago, but I wanted to thoroughly explain my absence. It’s taken a long time for my body to heal from what happened during my kidnapping, and it’s taken even longer for my mind to heal.

“Earlier this morning, I spoke with the man who orchestrated my kidnapping. I needed answers and while I wasn’t put at ease for his reasoning, I have sentenced him to isolation in prison for the remaining days of his life. His name is Icarus Bram and to some of you, it may seem like an easy punishment. Some of you may want his head. Some of you may say I have no spine.

“I’m not unfamiliar with what has been said about me, that I am gentle and kind but also may appear to be flippant and dim sighted to what’s going on around me. I hope this will show you I am anything but those negative things. I promise you, that when I am announced as your Queen, I will rule with love but with an iron fist. I love my people and my country and if it wasn’t for this man standing next to me, I wouldn’t have the strength I have now.”

She turns to Ashton and holds out her hand, she hears the multiple clicks and flashes of cameras as he takes her hand. His hazel eyes glance to the reporters before he joins her near the podium. 

“Ashton Irwin is my head bodyguard, and he has been for the last four years. He’s the one who didn’t give up and rescued me. He’s the one I trust with my whole life and,” Alouette faces Ashton, “he’s the one I love.”

There’s gasps and shouts of questions but Ashton just smiles at Alouette. He squeezes her hand and she squeezes back, both of them assuring the other about the implications from her publicly confirming their relationship. 

“Quiet, quiet please! The Queen has something she’d like to say,” Sydney says into the microphone and smiles happily at her lady. 

“I have spoken with my granddaughter and Mr. Irwin frequently about their relationship. And while they have already been granted my blessing, I have also decided to change the decree that if you are of royal blood, you may marry whomever you decide. I’m very proud of my Alouette, as you all should be, and I am elated to be with you all next month for her coronation,” Queen Helene finishes with a smile and the screen goes dark. 

Questions erupt in uproars once more but Alouette explicitly said she would not be answering any of them. She’s still smiling proudly at Ashton as they retreat back into the palace, leaving the buzz behind them as they go back to their swing. 

•••••

A few days later after Alouette’s address, she and Ashton were standing at the edge of the small dock of the lake watching the two swans keep their one cygnet between them. Alouette loved watching them swim about and even brought some bread to feed them.

 Her announcement of their relationship is still front page news but Alouette couldn’t be happier. 

“Alouette,” Ashton says while she breaks off the last piece of bread and tosses it into the water. 

“Yes?” She watches the small bird nibble it up and when Ashton doesn’t respond, she turns around then gasps. 

Ashton is on his left knee with a small rose gold box in his hand. He swallows harshly, Adam's apple bobbing as he reaches with a shaky hand for her own. Alouette takes it softly, eyes on him.

“Becoming your head bodyguard was the best decision of my life. I fell in love with you four years ago and continue to fall even more in love with you every day. I will go to the ends of the earth for you and I will always be your confidante and your safe space. Will you grant me the greatest gift of becoming my wife?”

He pops open the ring box and Alouette gasps again through her tears as she sees the beautiful rose gold ring sparkle in the sun. 

“Yes, yes, a thousand times yes,” she whispers, pulling him to his feet so she can kiss him. It’s a tear stained kiss mixed in with smiles and giggles. He slides the ring on her finger and it fits perfectly. 

They’re kissing and hugging each other on the dock. Ashton is so happy he spins her around before letting her stand once more, his arms are still around her.

“I love you, my lady.”

“I love you too,” she smiles stroking his cheek with her left hand. The ring glints and shines. “Can I ask you something now?”

“Anything.”

“Will you be my knight?”

• • • •

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[slytherinbarnes]

Sub Rosa [87]

iii. false gods

Pairing: Bellamy Blake x reader

Word Count: 4.7k

Warnings: violence, fighting, angst, mentions of drowning, blood, language.

Summary: with your ticket off of Skyring destroyed, desperation sinks in...

a/n: this is one of my favorites :) the taglist for this series is open! I hope you enjoy, please let me know what you think!!!

previous chapter // season masterlist // series masterlist

As you kneel, staring at the shattered pieces of the memory viewer, you hear Gabriel gasp, “Do you realize what you've done?”

The man’s raspy voice answers, “I couldn't let you leave! For all mankind! You don't understand!”

And in that moment, you swear you see red. You feel nothing other than the anger that pulses through you, white hot. It heats your blood until you're sure you’re boiling, a volcano just ready to explode. And the man's insistence that you don't understand when it’s clearly him that doesn't understand? It’s enough to make you erupt. 

You rise to your feet and cross the room lightning fast, before anyone can even process your movements. You catch the prisoner off guard, which makes it easier for your first punch to land. And the second. And the third. You feel your knuckles split when they make contact with his cheekbone, but you keep punching, your black blood mixing with his red blood. You don't stop swinging when you hear the others yelling your name and begging for you to stop, and you don't stop when someone grabs your arm and tries to hold it still. You just shake them off and swing again, but your fist doesn't land this time, because someone suddenly wraps their arms around you and lifts you off the ground, carrying you backwards, creating space between you and the madman. 

You see Hope and Echo staring at you as you are carried backwards, and you know that Gabriel is the one restraining you. You kick and flail and scream, trying to wiggle free and reach the prisoner again, prepared to keep punching him until there is no anger left and the fire in your body cools. But Gabriel just holds you tighter, and Hope yells to be heard over your screaming, “Stop! He can't help us off this planet if he's dead!”

“Help us?” The words practically leave your mouth as a growl as your anger turns feral. You still your movements long enough to direct a glare Hope’s way. This time, you’re sure she is the one thankful that looks can't kill, because yours are nothing short of murderous in this moment. Your voice steadily rises as you yell, “He just destroyed our one way off this planet! Does he look like he can help us?”

Everyone turns to glance at him, the prisoner’s face a mix of red blood and black blood, his breathing slightly labored. And you know that at any other moment, the regret and shame would start to kick in now. But in this moment, Wanlida is in control, and she doesn't care that he's injured. She just wants him gone. 

You start to fight and try to free yourself from Gabriel’s arms again, and your movements must spook the man, because he takes off running out the back door, disappearing into the trees. Frustrated with Gabriel’s iron grip, you lean forward then send your head back, headbutting him. Your skull makes contact with his brow bone, and Gabriel lets out a grunt of pain before dropping you straight onto your butt. You don't even take a second to check on him before scrambling to your feet and running out the front door, ignoring the calls of your friends behind you. This time, you're not searching for the prisoner, because your feet are taking you in the opposite direction. You’re not even sure of where you're going until you break free from the treeline and your eyes land on the lake in front of you, a faint green glow beneath the water's surface. 

You can hear Gabriel, Echo, and Hope calling your name and clambering through the woods after you, and without another moment of hesitation, you take off running again, closing the short distance between you and the waters edge. You slosh through the first few feet, and then you take a deep breath and dive under, opening your eyes to look around you. The green glow of the Anomaly is straight ahead, and you begin your frantic swim towards it, each stroke of your arms and kick of your legs taking you deeper and deeper into the lake. 

You swim until your legs feel tired and your arms are sore, and still the Anomaly seems no closer than when you first jumped into the water. You redirect yourself and start swimming straight down, fighting through the fatigue so you can get to Bardo. As you swim, you think only of Bellamy and Clarke, using them as your motivation to get off of Skyring, because five years here, means five years without them. You’ve already spent six years without Bellamy when everyone left you and Clarke behind, and that was agonizingly long enough. You hated it then, and you don't want to do it again now. The only time you spent without Clarke was when you were locked up in the Skybox, and then the few months she left after Mount Weather, and all of these moments only serve to remind you how important it is for you to get back to her. Because the two of you need each other. You're the twins, the Griffin Girls, the moon and the stars, Wanheda and Wanlida, Castor and Pollux, Azrael and Azazel. You need each other more than anything, because you're stronger together, and she probably doesn't even know you’re missing right now. You need to get back to her before she realizes you're gone, before she has to experience the heartbreak of losing her twin right after losing your mother. You can’t do that to her. You won't do that to her. 

Which is why you keep swimming. 

Your ears start to pop as you get deeper, the pressure squeezing your body. Your lungs start to ache and burn, the oxygen rapidly running out, and you turn to glance back at the surface of the lake. At this point, you’ve made more progress than you realize. You're deep down, down below in the dark part of the lake, the only light now coming from the Anomaly. If you turn around now, you might not even make it back up for air. 

Which is why you keep swimming, your body moving towards the green glow.

The loss of oxygen starts to become painful, the dull ache now akin to a fiery burn, your lungs feeling like they've shriveled up and died without the air they need. But the Anomaly is so close now, and you swear you can just reach out and touch it, if you only swim a 

few

          more

                     feet.

But those few feet turn into a few meters, and those meters turn to miles, and suddenly you realize that your vision is starting to blur. Everything is getting fuzzy around you, and it's not because of the water. There is no oxygen left in your lungs, and your body starts to twitch, unable to process life or movement without the precious substance. Your vision starts to go black, beginning at the edges and then moving towards you slowly, and you reach your hands up to your necklace, clutching the moon charm in your grip, and letting the finger of your right hand rest on the ring on your left. You let your eyes close, accepting the death that approaches you, dying with the knowledge that you really tried everything you could to get back to Clarke and Bellamy. You swam until there was nothing left for you but the bright green pulse of the Anomaly below you. 

You feel a sense of peace wash over you as the darkness rushes in, the last few inches filling your vision until it is all you know. It stretches out in front of you, endless like the sky, and you know your time has come.

-

You feel someone collapse on top of you, waking you from the darkness. 

You groan, your mind and body only asleep for a few hours before whatever rude awakening has just occurred. The body wiggles, trying to get your attention, and you pry your eyes open with another groan, your eyes landing on someone stretched across your lower half.

Bellamy Blake is laying across your legs, a huge smile on his face.

You grab your blanket and tug it up and over your face, closing your eyes again and inviting the darkness of sleep back to you. But Bellamy has different plans, because he stands from the bed and yanks the blanket off of you, exposing you to the cold air in your room. Your eyes fly open and you glare at your boyfriend, who stands holding the blanket with a mischievous grin. “Bellamy, give it back. Lincoln kicked my ass in training this morning, and then Kane kicked my ass in guard training this afternoon. I’m tired, I want to sleep.”

“No. No sleep.” 

You roll your eyes before closing them, turning away from him and curling into a ball in an attempt to keep yourself warm. But Bellamy grabs your ankles and tugs, pulling you towards the edge of the bed, and you let out a shriek of surprise. “Bellamy, what the hell are you doing?”

He smiles down at you, completely unbothered by your grumpy attitude. “It’s what we’re doing.”

“We’re supposed to be sleeping.”

“No, we’re going swimming.”

You give him a confused look. “I don't know how to swim.”

“I know, that’s why I’m going to teach you!”

Your confusion only deepens. “Now? In the middle of the night?”

“It’s the only time we both have free these days. Besides, you never know when it’ll come in handy.”

You stare up at your boyfriend’s eager face, noting the clear excitement he has over this prospect, and you know you’d do anything to see his joy continue, especially these days. With Clarke gone and the burden of Mount Weather weighing heavily on both of you, you can’t resist the desire to see him happy. Which is why you hide your smile and groan back, “Fine, let’s go swimming.”

Bellamy’s smile grows wider and he scoops you out of bed, setting you on the ground before handing you your clothes. You dress quickly and the two of you slip from your shared room and out of the camp without any issues, heading down to the lake that borders your home. There’s talks to extend the fence around the camp to one day include this lake, but for now, it sits just outside, bordered by the home of the sky people.

When you and Bellamy get to the water’s edge, he quickly strips until he's left in nothing but his underwear, and without hesitation he dives into the lake headfirst, his body arching through the air in a way that seems so beautiful to you. His head pops back up a second later, his curls clinging to his skin and the big grin still on his face. “Your turn.”

“Yeah, right.”

He laughs, light and happy, and you think about how you rarely hear that laugh these days. Just another thing the Mountain took. Bellamy senses the dark cloud you've invited to hang over you, always so eager to appear at the thought of Mount Weather, and he shakes his head and calls out, “None of that. Take your clothes off!”

You laugh and quip, “This is just an elaborate ruse to get me naked, isn't it?”

“Maybe.” He draws the word out, before the two of you start to laugh, the happiness chasing away the darkness of Mount Weather, at least for a little while. You strip quickly until you’re left in your undergarments, and then you stand just at the edge of the lake, looking at Bellamy with skepticism. “Now what?”

He swims towards you, walking the last few feet and coming to stop in front of you. He holds out his hand, his voice soft and serious. “Do you trust me?”

“With my life.” Your tone is just as serious, and he knows you mean it. You take his hand and he walks backwards towards the water again, leading you into the lake until the water reaches your waist. You feel your anxiety spike a little with each step you take into the water, but you meant it when you told Bellamy you trust him with your life. You know he won't let you drown. So when he leans down to scoop you up in his arms, you let out a little laugh and let him. The two of you lock eyes, and his voice is still soft, trying not to break the serenity of the moment. “Lie back. I’m not going to let go of you.”

You nod and lean backwards until the back of your head is in the water, your hair fanning out around you. Bellamy holds you in place as your body bobs along the surface of the water, and after a moment you realize that you’re floating. You turn slightly to lock eyes with your boyfriend again, a wide smile on your face, and he's looking at you with awe and adoration. You feel your face heat up beneath his gaze, and you try to break the seriousness of the moment by asking, “Wait, I've been with you almost every day since we landed. When the hell did you learn how to swim?”

Bellamy lets out a laugh, short and light, before shaking his head a little, amusement lighting up his face. “Believe it or not, I learned on the Ark.”

“You learned how to swim on a spaceship in the middle of the sky?”

He can hear the disbelief in your voice, and he nods. “I taught myself how to swim in our bathtub.”

Laughter takes over your body as you picture Bellamy teaching himself how to swim in less than a foot of water in his bathtub, the mental image making you wish you could have seen the real moment with your own two eyes. For now, you just have to let your imagination run wild, allowing the laughter to roll through you, nearly taking you under the water. Bellamy's arms keep you on top of the water as he watches you laugh, your amusement bringing a smile to his face. When your laughter turns into soft giggles, he gives you a fake serious look. “I need you to focus, Miss Griffin. You have to master floating before you can learn to swim.”

You give him a similar serious look, using it to hide your smile. “My apologies, Mr. Blake. I’m ready to try again.”

You lean back again, letting yourself be weightless as your body rises in the water, supported by Bellamy’s arms. After a quiet moment, he whispers, “Good. I’m going to let go now, but I’m not going anywhere. I’ll be right at your side.”

He must sense the flash of fear that has washed over you, because he adds, “Just look up at the sky and focus on the moon. Don't think about it, just let your body do the work.”

You let yours eyes search the sky until you find the moon, a pretty crescent shape, shining her pretty light down on you. You focus on her as Bellamy slips his arms from beneath you, but as promised, his body stays close to your own, his warmth still finding you in the cool lake. Your eyes stay locked on the sky, the darkness of the night the only thing you can see. From one edge of your vision to the other, there is nothing but stars and the moon. As your body floats on the surface of the water, your ears underwater, muffling the sound of the night, it’s easy to think that you're swimming in the sky. Floating with the stars, weaving between them, part of the sky, the way you always dreamed you would be.

-

Your eyes fly open and you take a sputtering breath, before you turn to the side and cough, water spewing from your mouth and onto the dirt beside you. You cough and wheeze for a few moments, until you're sure the water has left your lungs, and then you collapse back onto the dirt again, your eyes landing on the open sky. Stretched above you, arching across the sky like a halo, is a set of rings.

Your mind is already starting to question your whereabouts, your suspicions confirmed when Gabriel’s worried face leans into your view, a cut running through his eyebrow, already scabbing with black blood. You grimace a little, remembering the headbutt that gave him the injury, and he must notice, because he shrugs, “Can’t even feel it.”

Echo’s face appears on your other side, looking down at you with concern. “Do you know where you are?”

“Skyring.”

A third voice chimes in, “Do you know what happened?”

You try to sit up, struggling a little until Echo and Gabriel pull you into a sitting position. “Yeah, a bunch of people from a different planet stole my fiance, and we got stranded here after a crazed man that talks to dead people smashed our one way ticket out of here.”

“And you nearly drowned.”

Your teeth chatter slightly, your hair clinging to your face as you level a glare at Hope. “Yes, and I nearly drowned.”

“That was stupid. Octavia was here for ten years, six of which she spent trying to reach the pretty light at the bottom of the lake. She never drowned herself though.”

Your glare deepens, your embarrassment starting to set in. Hope pulls herself to her feet, glancing at the others. “Come on, we have a lot of work to do if we’re going to spend five years here.”

Gabriel and Echo hesitate, both of them looking at you with worry, but you shrug them off. “I’m fine.”

Gabriel levels a look at you. “Hope’s right, you nearly died. You should take it easy for the rest of the day.”

You nod, too exhausted to fight him on it. With your agreement in place, he holds a hand out to you, and he and Echo pull you to your feet, helping you walk back to the cabin. Gabriel leaves you at the edge of the garden with Echo, disappearing into the house briefly before returning with a blanket. He drapes it over your shoulders, your teeth chattering harder than you realized. He leaves to help Hope, and Echo stays with you for a while, clearly worried about leaving you on our own. You can tell she isn't sure what to say, obviously unfamiliar with the type of desperation that leaves you willing to make stupid decisions that might get you killed. But after a while, she can tell you’re craving some time to yourself, so she too leaves, though she makes sure to linger close, in case you decide to bolt again. 

But you don't move. You stay solidly rooted in place, unmoving for a while, your thoughts practically eating you alive. You are stuck on Skyring, truly stuck, all of your options spent. The only way off is when the crazy man gets to leave. But until then, you’re stuck here. The thoughts that you had while swimming to the Anomaly come flying back to you. Five years on Skying means five years with no Bellamy and no Clarke. They likely won't even notice you're gone. They won't feel the passage of time without you, but you will. You will feel each passing second that you spend separated from the two most important people in your life. The thought is agonizing. 

Also agonizing is the thought that you nearly drowned trying to reach them both, almost leaving them alone in the world without you. And you know now that if you want to save them, you need to be smarter. No more hasty decisions that result in near death experiences. You need to be calculating and calm. No more emotional choices. No more thinking with your heart. Your head is the one making the rules now.

You were the one that dove into the water, but Wanlida was the one that was dragged out, still and unbreathing. And when Gabriel brought you back to life, it was Wanlida that opened her eyes. She’s here with you now, hanging in the background, leaving you feeling cold and icy and empty. She’s ready to take over, ready to make the decisions for you. She knows that your heart will always rule you, but Wanlida? She’s ruled by her head. She doesn’t feel pain or loss or sadness. She calculates and decides, bringing death to all who stand in her way.

That's why you sit at the edge of the group, ignoring the light banter of the others behind you, your Grounder knife now in hand. You grab a discarded garden tool that lays nearby, and use it to add notches to the list of your kills. One line for Asher, who nearly killed you and nearly killed your twin. One line for the disciple that almost shot Hope on your way to the Anomaly. Your total count now up to 13, and that’s just kills from this knife. 

When you start to add up all the kills Wanlida has helped you make, the number grows larger than you can stand, and you stop, pretending it's because you lost count. But really it's because you’re starting to wonder if you can really do better when Wanlida lives inside you. You can't get rid of her now, because you need her to save Bellamy. You need her strength and willingness to kill, but who will you be if you accept that help? Can you come back from that? Can you come back from her?

-

As soon as Clarke gets back from school, she makes a beeline past you, heading straight for the bathroom you share. When she runs past, you don't miss the tears that streak down your twin’s face, or the sob she tries to stifle. But by the time you make it to the bathroom door, it’s locked with you one one side and Clarke on the other. You knock tentatively, your voice soft. “Clarke? What’s wrong?”

She doesn't answer, but you can hear her quiet sobs from the other side of the door, and your anxiety grows, wanting to know what happened. “Let me in, shining star. Talk to me.”

Her crying softens for a minute, but you can't hear anything else from inside the bathroom, and your fear spikes until you hear the click of the lock receding. You twist the knob and tentatively push the door open, your twin somehow back on the other side of the bathroom, tucked in the corner, her knees pulled to her chest, her face hidden from view. You still don't know what happened, but you get the sense that Clarke doesn't want to talk about it, at least not yet. So you do the only thing you can think to make her feel better, and you start to draw up a bath. 

You know you shouldn't. The Ark has water allotments, even the Privileged, though they tend to be more lax with your group. But your twin is upset and she doesn't want to talk about it, and it's the only thing you can think to do. So you run some quick math in your head, and you think you can make up for the loss of water if you skip your next few showers. You never see anyone besides your family anyways, so it’s not like it really matters.

You fill the tub as much as you can before it makes you anxious, hoping it’s hot enough to do the trick. Warm water is never a promise on the Ark, it’s more like a surprise. Sometimes the heaters work, sometimes they don't. Today is one of those days where thankfully, they seem to work really well. With the water warm enough, you walk over to your sister and drop down in front of her. “Get in the tub, I’ll be over in a second.”

She looks up at you, her face puffy and tear stained, before she weakly nods and moves over to the tub, quickly undressing with her back to you. You turn away and walk over to the sink and drop to your knees, reaching for a loose panel near the floor, prying it off and moving it aside. There, tucked away in a hidden spot, is the last of your special soap. 

It was something your dad managed to get for you, though you have no idea how, because you didn't even think they made soap like this on the Ark. Most Ark soap is practical, made out of whatever they have on hand, pressed into lumpy bars that don't smell great, but don't necessarily stink either. They just smell like..Ark soap. There's no other way to describe it. 

But this soap? This soap is special. It’s smooth, and unlike the gray green blob of Ark soap, it’s pale blue. It smells like vanilla, and your father etched a moon onto the top before gifting it to you for your 13th birthday. Your parents both said 13th birthdays are a big deal, which is why Clarke got her nicest art set yet. You don't have any specific hobbies like Clarke does, and your dad said he wasn't sure what to get you until he discovered the soap, and once he saw it, he knew it was perfect. You have treasured this bar of soap, using it as sparingly as possible over the last year and a half, because you rarely have access to nice things. You rarely have access to anything. Still, this is important. Clarke is upset, and this soap is magic, you’re sure of it. It has always cheered you up on bad days. 

You take the soap back over to the tub, grabbing a small cup along the way, and you glance at Clarke, who is now situated in the warm water. You sit on the edge of the tub and use the cup to gently pour water over her hair, wetting it well. Then you grab the last of your soap and rub it between your hands, creating a lather, which you transfer onto Clarke's head. You massage the soap into her hair, making sure to cover every strand, using every last bit of soap that you have. As soon as Clarke gets a whiff of the smell, she whispers, “Your special soap.”

Her voice is raspy from crying, but you ignore it and nod, before you realize that she can't see you. You whisper back, “You need it more than I do.”

She’s quiet for a minute and you start to rinse the soap from her hair carefully before she breaks her silence. “Do you remember Katie?”

“The girl that you like?”

Clarke nods weakly, and you continue rinsing before she continues talking. “I told her I liked her today.”

You suspect the response wasn't a good one, but you know Clarke is waiting for you to say something, so you ask, “What did she say?”

“She said I was a selfish, privileged snob and she would never like someone like me.” Clarke starts to cry again, the tears falling down her face and landing in the bathtub beneath her. “I just don't understand what happened. Two days ago she was holding my hand during lunch, and today she’s calling me a snob.”

You squeeze Clarke’s shoulder in comfort. “She doesn't know what she’s missing, Clarke. You’re the least selfish person I know, and you're not a privileged snob. I don't know what happened or why she's acting this way, but you're the best person I know. You're a shining star, bright and brilliant, and one day Katie will realize that she's missing out, but it'll be too late.”

Clarke nods, her crying already starting to slow down, your words bringing her comfort. She glances at you over her shoulder, meeting your eyes for the first time since she got home. “Thank you, la lune.”

“I’ll always be here for you, Clarke. I’d do anything for you, no matter what.”

She smiles a little, her voice sounding stronger when she mutters, “Stronger together.”

You smile back and repeat, “Stronger together.”

-

next chapter

[lostinmymindpalace-m]

The Light of Knowledge

A warm comfort fanfic about Dead Poets Society introducing Diana Williams. Might not always be (chronologically) accurate, but has the intention to warm your heart and take you to a wonderful place. Will (hopefully) be updated, because I love wrtiting it. Feel free to give feedback and correct linguistical mistakes <3

Chapter one, in which the thoughts are free

Wer kann sie erraten,                      Who can guess them sie fliehen vorbei,                           they flee away, wie nächtliche Schatten.                 like nocturnal shadows. Kein Mensch kann sie wissen,       No man can know them, kein Jäger erschießen.                    no hunter can shoot them. Es bleibet dabei:                             It stays like it is: Die Gedanken sind frei.                 the thoughts are free

Ich denke, was ich will,                 I think what I want und was mich beglücket,               and what makes me happy, doch alles in der Still,                    but all in silence und wie es sich schicket.               and how it acquiesces. Mein Wunsch und Begehren         My wish and desire kann niemand verwehren,              nobody can deny, es bleibet dabei:                             it stays like it is: die Gedanken sind frei.                 The thoughts are free

(from a German folk song)

I stop and take a deep breath. The time-honoured school building looks stunning against the setting of trees, whose leaves are starting to turn colourful. I still can't believe I'm really here. My heartbeat accelerates with excitement as I let my gaze wander over the dark, weathered brick bulidings and the adjoining school grounds. A river runs through the valley and flows into a lake aside the houses. Welton Academy. I actually made it. A blast opens up the cloudy sky and the golden sun rays of late summer bathe the school building in their light. I close my eyes, hold my face against the warmth and then set out for the Academy, for a new life.

In front of the entrance door, an old man with grey hair is waiting for me. He introduces himself as Dr. Hager and shakes my hand. „You must be the recipient of the Eisenhower-Scholarship. Diana Williams, right?“ I nod. „Yes, Sir.“ „Well, in addition to my function as teacher of mathematics, I am residential supervisor for grades eleven and twelve, a cordial welcome to Welton Academy on my behalf. Please follow me to the director now.“ I tightly sqeeze my suitcase as I walk behind Dr. Hager. In the entrance hall, the walls are covered with pictures of former years and special awards of students. One day, my picture will be on these walls, too, I think and feel like I could scream with joy. But of course, I controll myself. Keep it upright, a slight smile on my lips, just like my mother told me to. Dr. Hager stops and knocks on a door made of the same dark wood the walls here are covered with up to shoulder height. „Come in!“, it sounds from the director's room. I square my shoulders, adjust my glasses and step in. Behind the huge mahogany desk sits a man with short, white hair. For a moment, his eyes behind the round glasses linger on my school uniform before he signifies for me to sit down. „Miss Williams, it is a pleasure to welcome you to this school. Your parents don't seem to have arrived with you?“ „No, Sir. They were both indispensable, so I took the train here by myself.“ Director Nolan takes notice with a nod and then continues. „You certainly understand why the school has asked you not to attend the traditional welcome ceremony. Students and parents have been informed about the project, but the school administration considered it appropriate to avoid any possible disruption of the ceremony.“ In other words, the teachers think the presence of a girl would lead to inappropriate behaviour on part of the students? I internally roll my eyes. „Miss Williams, as you know, your admission to this school is a pilot project. An attempt to see if teaching female students at an institution like Welton is possible. Of course, you are familiar with the rules of this school as well as our four pillars?“ „Yes, Sir. tradition, honor, discipline and excellence, Sir. It is a great honor for me to be able to attend this school.“, I say in a steady voice. Nolan nods again, almost approvingly this time. „Here, you are expected to adhere strictly to the tried and tested standarts and to understanf the four pillars as the headstone of your life. Be aware that your success or failure at this school contributes a major part in the decision about an enlargement of the pupils.“ I can feel his stern look on me, but I don't even blink. I have been aware of the efford and the responsibility this scholarship would entail from the very beginning, when I was suggested by my principal. „As for your school uniform“, Nolan throws a glance at my legs in the suit pants, „an alternative will be found as soon as possible. You will understand that until now, this institution hasn't had any need for adequate skirts.“ That's what I was afraid of. Why can't I just wear pants? Skirts may be pretty, but most of all, they are impractical. Well, my school uniform surely doesn't have top priority here. Who knows how long it will be until I actually have skirts to wear. „It also goes without saying that you won't exploit your position as, well, unique. It is an important requirement for the continuation of your scholarship that the concentrated working atmosphere in the classroom won't be disturbed. For this experiment to be successfull, you too are expected not to let living with male students diminish your achievements.“ „I assure you this won't be an issue, Sir.“ Nolan hands me a paper on which my schedule appears to be printed. „From tomorrow on, you will attend class with your classmates and, based on your last report cards, you will take part in the following extracurricular activities: Pupil's magazine, yearbook and debate club. Dr. Hager will now lead you to your room and I will have your class representative lead you through the school during the afternoon. He will also tell you where to pick up your books. Dinner starts at preciely six o'clock. He rises and so do I. „Thank you for your time, Sir.“ After a quick handshake, I am dismissed.

My new home is a small room, the last one on the left side oft the hallway, that has my name on it's door. The walls are dirty white and it's very plain, but at least it has a window with a wide ledge. It was probably originally used as a storage room or something, but now it has everything I need. A simple metall bed, a wardrobe for my clothes and a desk with a chair and a small lamp. It reminds me of home. I slowly put down my suitcase and step up to the window, from which I have a beautiful view of the school grounds. A slight mist is rising, making the lake and the far edge of the forest seem blurry and mystical. I feel tears rising in my eyes and I can't tell wether it's the beauty of nature or the fact that I'm actually here, at the best preperation school in the United States. Six month ago, I couldn't even dream of an opportunity like this. But now, with a lot of work and a degree from Welton Academy, I should even be able to go to college! Almost floating with happiness, I start unpacking my possesions. I didn't bring much, just a few everyday clothes, my coat and a pair of shoes, which I put into the closet next to the school uniforms that have been sent to me. I have just stored my books and writing material and am wondering what to do with my bathroom stuff when I hear muffled noises outside my door. A moment later, someone knocks. That's probably the class representative, i think and quickly put away my bathroom bag. When I open the door, a boy in grey Welton uniform is leaning against the frame and looks at me with a mischievous grin. Behind him stands a group of boys around my age whose facial expressions range from enthusiastic to mild panik. It's hilarious. I slightly raise my eyebrows. „Can I help you?“ The boy that's leaning in the door frame casually extends his hand. „Charlie Dalton. Welcome to Hell-ton.“ „Diana Williams. Pleased to meet you.“ As I shake his hand, he looks deeply into my eyes and pulls my hand to his lips. I sigh internally and stifle a grimace, but I continue to smile nonchalantly. Of course, I knew what kind of attention I would get here. Remain polite and kind, I admonish myself. Mother taught you the best way to handle situations like this. Fortunately, another boy steps forward and I can withdraw my hand. The boy's school jacket is covered with pins. „Diana, I'm Neil Perry, the class representative. Mr. Nolan sent me to show you around and“, he gestures to his companions and gives me an apologetic look, „these guys absolutely wanted to welcome you, too.“ I inconspicuously wipe my Charlie-Dalton-kissed hand on my pants before i extend it to Neil Perry. „That's nice of you“, I say, even though I can't quite avoid a mocking undertone.  „I understand that it must be rather unusual to have a girl here. Let me tell you, it's a weird situation for me, too. But please, come in if you want to. We really don't have to talk with one foot in the door.“ I sit down on the window sill and watch the whole group enter my freshly occupied room. Charlie Dalton immediately makes himself at home on my bed and another one takes a seat on my desk chair, but the others keep standing more or less awkward in the middle of the room. For a moment, nobody speaks, until I tilt my head and casually ask: „Alright, and how is the rest of my eloquent guests called?“ Charlie Dalton's grin widens as he begins to introduce the other guys. „This right here“, he points to the boy that is sitting on the desk chair, „is Steven Meeks, the genius of the class.“ Steven Meeks makes a face and slightly rises his hand. „To his right, we have Gerard Pitts.“ The boy is so tall that in order to stand unter the pitch of the roof, he has to crouch uncomfortably. „Those two are Knox Overstreet and Richard Cameron...“ A smiling boy and another one with a very neat haircut nod to me. „And this“, he points to a guy that is kind of shyly standing next to Neil Perry, „is Todd Anderson. You already know Neil here. We are the best your class has to offer, the rest is dull.“ I have to smile. „Alright Charlie Dalton, Steven Meeks, Gerard Pitts, Knox Overstreet, Richard Cameron, Todd Anderson and Neil Perry“, I say without missing a beat, „it's a great pleasure to meet you.“

The guys seem smart and adorable and I feel much more comfortable with them than I expected. We talk for a while, then Neil shoos them to the common room so he can carry out his duty as a guide. He shows me where to put my stuff in the bathroom and leads me through the school buildings and the classrooms in which I'll have class tomorrow. Neil chats to me cheerfully and tells me stories about teachers, but i hardly listen. I'm enchanted. The escritoires made from dark wood, the chalkboards, the pin boards, the smell of ink and paper. With every breath, I can feel all the knowledge, all the thoughts and hard work. In the room we have english class in, I sit on one of the escritoires, pull my knees to my chest and stroke the wood, that generations of students chafed with the back of their books, with my fingertips. „There is one thing I don't get“, I say and draw a circle around an ink stain. „You are telling me all these awful things about the teachers and how exhausting the classes will be and yet all I can think about is how beautiful it is here. Don't you feel the freedom this place is radiating?“ I look up and see Neil frown. „Freedom? If Welton lacks in one thing, than it's freedom, believe me on this one. You do have to be disciplined, or else you'll get penalty points.“ I nod pensively and jump off the escritoire. „Hm, I don't think that's what I mean.“ So we go and pick up my books. On our way back to the living quarters, we meet Todd who apparently has been waiting for Neil. Both of them accompany me to my room, where I store the books. Neil turnes to Todd. „Do you get a feeling of freedom when you enter Welton?“ Todd shakes his head. „No, if anything, the opposite of freedom.“, he says quietly. „Why?“ „That's how I felt.“ I turn around to face the boys. „And I think now I know why. You may not feel this way, but for me, this place is more than I could ever dream of. When I can make it here, then...“, I gesture vaguely, „basically anything seems possible.“ Neil and Todd nod. „I'm glad you feel this way“, Neil says with a smile. „You are right, your situation is just different. You didn't expect to go to Welton. But you'll see how little controll they give us here.“ I shrug as I watch the last rays of the dying sun slowly fade away. „The thoughts are free, boys.“ Before I can go on, the bell calls us to dinner.

[steve0discusses]

Yugioh S4 Ep 25: Oh Hai Mai

Heyyy we’re back. Thank for bearing with me, it’s been kind of chaos over here. Everything from a pandemic (we are very sloooowly reopening over here but I’ve been quarantined so long I can french braid my damn leg hair.) to important political protests, to getting an evacuation order because an arsonist burned down 90 acres in the heat of summer (luckily we’re all fine), to a vole that ate everything in my pandemic self-care garden so I lost my entire mind and waged war and dug so many holes and put out 17 mouse traps and set off so many critter bombs under the ground trying to kill the little bastard like it was Caddyshack (It’s still alive, ps, I lost that war). These last 3 months have been the longest decades of my life. The only month longer was the one where I’m pretty sure I had mono and it made me positive that my basement was haunted.

Man, bring back my haunted basement, Sorry if this comes through in my writing, I tried but, I can’t edit it out. You get FML-Rachel today.

Lets get back to a good, mindless distraction, lets turn on Yugioh.

BUT------->it just so happens that this episode of Yugioh has cop stuff in it, I’m just going to be blunt. We’re going into Valon’s backstory, he’s very much a victim of problems within the bizarre Yugioh legal system, and much like a Gotham supervillain, he is a symptom of the problem more than the cause.

I’m not going to ignore that, but in case you are overwhelmed about that right now, if you want to like...save this for later--I have another FMA recap coming out soon that I wrote in a simpler time before....the corona freakin ruined us all.

Last we left off, we were on the heels of Joey Wheeler, who decided to book it down the street because he wants to murder the hell out of Valon.

Youknow...Joey is one hell of a protagonist. He just does...so MANY antagonistic things.

Joey has decided that although the world is ending, and everyone left alive will be absorbed into the Great Leviathon’s big yummy tummy, which can only be prevented by three people, of which he is one of--he’s going to go sprint in completely the other direction.

We even managed to get Kaiba on board. We were ready. We were done, but then Joey had to lose his freakin mind because that’s just what Joey Wheeler does sometimes.

Normally heroes avoid the call to duty because of a severe lack of self confidence, but this is Joey, and he’s going to avoid the call to duty because of too much self confidence.

And so Joey and his Chaperone turn a corner and walk into this random orc who’s just casually living his best life and touring SF.

One of my worst fears walking through SF, tbh. Running into high school people. Not so much the orcs.

Yo, I wonder what the bushman was doing through all of this? So IRL, we have this guy who just...hides in a bush and jump-scares tourists. I can’t imagine what it must be like to be in a bush and then just...all these orcs show up and you’re all.

...oh no, now I’m the fool...

I just want to know if bushman made it, or if he’s in a paper card that’s just a picture of foliage.

(read more under the cut)

Anyway, Joey was already in the process of running, so they just turned around on this street of...so much parking.

Like y’all there is SO MUCH PARKING this episode. I was trying to pay attention to anything else, but like...do you see this!? It takes nearly half an hour usually to get a spot but this--this right here?

And the crazy thing is, recently my bro had to go pick up some old guy from a cruise that...got quarantined...and so bro had to go the Pier and like--this is what the city looked like. This is a pandemic, it’s just lots of parking, so I want to criticize Yugioh, and I normally would, but I can’t. I’ve seen the receipts. They called it. This is what the endtimes look like and it’s so much parking.

Also, they were too lazy to draw cars but damn, they called it.

So, left with no other option, Joey decides to...be Joey, and punches a huge orc covered in armor.

So Valon’s here, because apparently SF has just...no one left alive in it except for these few kids and that one Uber Eats driver. I imagine it’s a lot easier to find Joey if you just follow the only one screaming in Japanese in a Brooklyn accent at the top of his lungs.

And Valon decides that this one way street isn’t good enough, and that they must duel somewhere else.

I assumed it would be a tall structure, but considering Kaiba just blew up the tallest structures in the Financial District...I was like...what else is tall? And bear in mind, I’m a mess, so I was like...OMG I wish it were Macy’s!!!

Now I hear you saying that’s weird, and we shouldn’t have a very fancy Macy’s in 2020, and you’re correct. but we still have one, and the top floor is just...a massive Cheesecake factory, and I can’t think of anything more 00′s than a Yugioh duel on top of that specific Cheesecake Factory.

And I’ve never really thought before about where the best Yugioh duel would be, and it’s there. It’s at the high rise Cheesecake. Listen Yugioh, if you need an insider to choose locations for your Netflix remake of S4--call me.

So anyways, instead of doing the right thing and going to the Cheesecake Factory on top of Macy’s like any other self respecting 00′s teenager, Valon and Joey are going to drive through the most boring parts of town.

They had an opportunity to go chase eachother through any tourist attraction, Lombard street, Ghirardelli Square, the Palace of Fine Arts, China town, reuse some assets and drive through Japan town, that fountain that looks like Yoda--but no...they decided to drive through literal trash.

Just...a missed opportunity, and it should have been a Cheesecake Factory.

Also, I totally and fully acknowledge that a strange nostalgic affection for the Cheesecake Factory is a weird Millennial thing (much like our weird encyclopedic knowledge of Sailor Moon) but listen. You have your thing, too. You go do you, I’m gonna soak my sorrows in a bowl of Chinese chicken salad so wide, it’ll last me 3 days.

Anyways, Joey’s gonna steal that guy’s bike.

Yugioh just predicting the future in 2003. We actually have a HUGE problem right now with vehicle theft in the city to an almost comedic degree, which is partly why the parking situation has gotten so incredibly dire. It’s kind of incredible that this guy left his bike out because after about 1 day in the city you learn pretty fast that you need to be constantly checking on your street parked vehicle--I mean, that guy was just asking for it, honestly. If Joey hadn’t taken it, some other guy would have absolutely taken it, (even that orc would’ve taken it, the city has no consideration for cars.)

Sorry --one sec-- that was an earthquake just now. As I’m typing this. Just a little guy. Just a little treat for me...

...but still like...c’mon. I’m also getting this weird issue where Tumblr doesn’t save my drafts so like...this is like the 3rd time I’ve had to write this like...I just want to make a Yugioh post for my tiny funtime tv blog, Universe. Don’t @ me right now, Universe.

SO MUCH FREAKIN PARKING.

...is it the space between two piers? What is this? We don’t have rivers in SF, it is a peninsula covered in very steep hills. Like very VERY steep hills. All water just rolls into the ocean and there’s a couple of lake thingies but...no rivers that I know of (And like maybe this is a thing, and I just haven’t seen it? Learn something new every day.)

*loud, audible sigh* home. Where we belong. At the warehousssssssse.

Back at the RV base, Duke Devlin is still babysitting. Maybe this is to make up for the two seasons he spent trying to date a girl Rebecca’s age, that they felt like going out of their way to show that he has indeed no longer horny now. Got to hand it to them, that’s a lot of character development right there. Although at the same time, it has made Duke Devlin a very non-character.

But imagine how insanely complicated would it have been if Duke got involved in that bizarre love-square that is Yugi, Tea, and the Ghost that killed Yugi by accident.

PS that’s either a freeway onramp (which is too far South from where they were, I think) or it sure does look like old Embarcadero behind them. Youknow, that lifted street from the 80′s that fell down in Loma Prieta and was never rebuilt? I just freakin love that it’s still here in 2003. This bizarre Yugioh alternate California.

Anyway, because this is alternate California, Seto set a massive fire and the entire city didn’t immediately go up in flames. Apparently they just kinda ran away from the explosion and damage before anyone noticed.

Probably because most people on Earth are dead anyway, so what more can these two actually do?

And so Yami ends up getting lectured by the wife.

And justifiably, the wife seems to have absolutely no confidence that Yami will be able to do a damn thing right.

Wifes all around this episode.

Speaking of,

At this point, Arthur Hawkins senses that Yami’s nearby, so he opens the door just to freakin dump some guilt on him.

...Rebecca seems to be a character that’s mostly there to recap the lore and also to dump on Yami. I don’t mind that. Yami needs to get dunked more often, and I’m saying that in S4, where the entire season’s tagline is “how many times can we dunk on Yami?”

So lets check on Yugi, how’s that kid doing? It’s been quite a number of episodes since we last saw him.

Yep, still hanging out in the Han Solo cosplay room.

And then, because I guess everyone is just hanging out in the same 4 blocks, Mai and Tristan have a heart-to-heart.

In the show, this conversation was Mai (who is now a serial killer) saying “Oh hey, Tristan, where’s Joey?” and Tristan saying “It’s ALL YOUR FAULT he wants to kill Valon--thanks a lot, Mai! GODS!” all indignant like.

Not how you would ordinarily talk to a serial killer, just saying. No one from the Yugi crew fears this woman...at all...and she has killed over 20 people in front of them and is trying very hard to kill Joey Wheeler all the time.

Like what would it actually take for them to fear this woman? They can’t, right?

Meanwhile, Valon is trying to explain to Joey that his obsession with Mai is in fact damaging any relationship they could have had.

So then when you’re like OK...this is actually very valid points on Valon’s part, and Joey really does need to step back and let people make their mistakes considering Joey was barely a part of her life to begin with. But then, Valon just turns a 180 and...it becomes a catty love triangle where only one person in the triangle even feels romantic emotions.

I just...so Valon is doing this fight because he thinks Mai is in love with Joey.

This whole time I was like “well maybe it’s more that Valon is trying to defend Mai’s right to make her own choices” but no...he just straight up thinks Mai is in love with Joey. And, in fighting Joey, Valon himself is ignoring Mai’s life choices

Just a whole lot of misunderstanding that would have been fixed with better ways than dueling with cards. At least that one guy in S2 who tried to marry Mai actually dueled HER instead of some random guy.

It just really feels like these boys are having a pissing contest and Mai was never let in on the deets that this was even happening.

Mai needs to hang out with older men. Set her up with Roland, this is ridiculous.

Back at the RV, which got very, very big in this shot, Seto has an odd convo with Mokuba about how they are probably not going to get Kaiba Corp back. And then no one really argued with him about that.

He’s taking it really well. Maybe because this isn’t even the first time or the second time or even really the third time Seto’s lost everything. Kid’s really freakin great at failure. At least this time Mokuba isn’t currently abducted, which is really good improvement for these two.

Outside the RV, Tristan has decided to...give up as well, just right here, in the middle of traffic. Then he gets Orc’d...these orcs are kind of like Slenderman, in that they kinda...show up...but then that’s all they do because the designers didn’t actually want to animate anything.

And then this happens.

God bless this story boarder for this random series of events presented in just this way.

Also here’s yet another example where Tea just has...no fear. She’s actually only out here because she was like “that’s it, we’re getting another driver” and was going to chew out Duke Devlin. The Orc being in the middle of the road was not the reason she walked out here.

Anyways, Yami killed it because everyone here can just throw cards forever, these things are not threatening.

The subplot of everyone refusing to drive with Duke Devlin after he busted his car in Death Valley is still ongoing, and it’s still low key hilarious that no one will outright say “Duke, your driving is just so bad” and instead, Duke just has to sit there and watch Joey STEAL A MOTORCYCLE just so he won’t have to drive shotgun with Duke Devlin.

Rebecca, our plot-dump device, then informs us that Valon has Special Rules.

Because Valon, if you’ve forgotten, has a card that allows him to physically punch his opponent in the face.

They should have invented that card a long time ago TBH.

SO, lets get into Valons tragic backstory. First off, go turn on your Les Mis Soundtrack, because this is some old school cop stuff.

So apparently Valon, as a child just...stayed in the system forever. We don’t know why yet, but lets just assume that it’s tragic and heavy handed. If he steals a loaf of bread and ends up in 12 Juvies (which is a line from the show and not an exaggeration--12 Juvies) then I will expect him to be singing by the end of this and I will be very disappointed if he does not.

Anyways, he was such an asshole, that he caught the attention of some very illegal rich bastard who was trying to turn prisoners into...card murders. (it was Dartz.) because apparently...Dartz also funds prisons and that is...that is some deep lore.

And so probably about the same time that Yugi was Dueling to the death on Pegasus’ Island, and about the same time that Marik was hanging out in the ocean next to Pegasus’ Island with a pair of binoculars, and about the same time that Noah was underneath Pegasus’ Island just watching Pegasus steal KaibaCorp, Dartz decided to make his OWN murder island--because I guess he got jealous.

Anyway, Valon won, and didn’t even need to set anyone on fire.

Those little green things there--those are all souls of prison inmates.

YUGIOH.

Millennials got DARK, OK? Freakin...we had a show for 9 year olds that went deep into the school-to-prison pipeline and didn’t even try to hide it under any layers of symbolism. Like Hunger Games at least had two people survive.

This was a show to sell PAPER CARDS.

+++++++++++THIS IS A RANT WHERE I WENT OFF ABOUT PRISON TALK IN KID’S SHOWS FEEL FREE TO SKIP++++++++++++++++++++

Now, there’s a lot of good conversation going on right now about errors in the modern justice system on not just a local scale, but on a global scale, especially regarding racial profiling and criminalization of poor, sick, and young, and we better keep pushing it. But it’s surprising when people pretend like this hasn’t been talked about for a long time. Because...we’ve been talking about it in kids and YA shows for a long time. This is not something that just popped up in 2020.

Like millennials didn’t invent this obsession with dark and gritty stories with uncomfortable themes. It’s been around for thousands of years, but back in the 90′s and 00′s, a lot of shows for YA and younger enjoyed talking about the problems with prisons and abuse of power with our justice systems--a lot. Batman, X-men, Death Note, so so many, hell, even the OC.

And like, don’t get me wrong, we still have these shows running around, but I’ve been there’s been a trend of stories (not saying names) where just...nothing bad happens. And, that’s kind of sad because...they CAN have small elements that are more progressive in them, but only brought forth with a very risk-free cotton candy fluffy coating to make the majority of the population happy.

I could go long about this, and I’m getting very cryptic. If a kid escapes to more colorful worlds where nothing bad ever happens, that’s OK--sometimes you need that, but when nothing bad ever happens surrounding certain experiences where bad things normally happen--the meaning of the story changes because it isn’t a real experience anymore.

Like I don’t want to tangent too much, and I just had to delete a lot of examples, but I know a lot of people want to write stories about misrepresented minorities and about real deal serious situations and are just so afraid of misrepresentation that they go in completely the wrong direction by not putting in anything uncomfortable at all. I think it’s important to look at the work and ask yourself is this about the minority the work should be about--or is this work about patting the majority of the population on the back and saying neat, we’ve achieved utopia without having to even do anything?

...anyway, obvi I’m ranting, but I feel like we’re taking a step backwards when it comes to the importance of kids programming and that we do need to talk to kids about prison again. This is a show about paper cards, and they don’t do a great job at talking about...the reality of prison, this was exaggerated with genre stereotypes, but at least they didn’t cover it with rainbows and unicorns, because this isn’t about how great Joey and the “normal” people are at saving Valon, this is about how society screwed Valon beyond repair, and I am 99% certain we will see this guy’s soul stuffed in a brick above Dartz’ snake fireplace.

Like, yeah he duels to the death on an island, but that’s imagery that is very close to real life prison issues. We don’t talk to kids a lot about how a lot of inmates get enlisted into the military during war times (and quite literally...duel to their death...on islands). We don’t talk about how we use inmates to betray eachother for a chance at maybe getting amnesty. We don’t talk about how a lot of the victims of this system are essentially children, and have been caught in a system of endless prison for what will probably be the rest of their lives. We don’t talk about how we’re systematically turning kids into criminals so much in kid’s shows of late...and Freakin Yugioh just did in a filler season. 

....................I think our standard for modern kids programming to talk about serious issues is way too low if Yugioh just threw this out there in a filler season, is all I’m saying.

++++++++++++++++++END OF PRISON RANT++++++++++++++++++++++

 So, Valon is free but...is he?

Not really, he’s just gone from one jailer to another, but at least this time he gets his own room. Don’t blame him for latching onto Dartz’ dream to end the world, because the world for him has been one behind bars. He doesn’t know it. Never been there.

It’s just interesting juxtaposed to Joey because Joey had some sort of Season Zero history with a gang and I haven’t watched that episode yet.

So that’s it for now, again, I’m very slooow lately. I slept for 3 hours today...and I don’t know why. But hey--we all got through three (four???) months of this...we just gotta go...one month at a time.

That and I accidentally did my taxes early so there’s that. See? Good things still happen.

Also, because I only slightly referenced the most incredible movie ever made on San Fransisco soil, I’ll just leave this here. The true hallmark of our city.

Anyway you know the drill, here’s the link