#A GARRET ✩ answers | only wanted the body not the brains

[flyingupward]

@everstride​ said: his heart still thumps just as loud, just as fast as it once did all those many years ago. for she had already made a home inside his chest, carved deep inside each bone. his heart beat, belonged to her. it always would, it always will. his hands find alma’s face, the mere touch of familiar skin has his lids falling shut, jaw tightening. i missed you, i love you. so many things he wishes to say, but can’t. “still beautiful as ever.” theyre alone, he can speak such without casting glances over his shoulder. lids peel open, a swallow as he looks down at her. “more beautiful than ever.”

       FUNNY. he says that, and yet all she can see are lines across her face that weren’t there ten years ago, the slight auburn color her hair takes on now because she can’t color it quite as dark as it used to be, the slight ache in her hip that she can’t get rid of when it’s cold in the morning. meanwhile he just looks distinguished and REFINED, carrying age and power like he’s always been suited for them.

       her skin lights up when he touches her, his words stoking that flame into a blazing inferno. ❝ SETH... ❞ a rare utterance of his given name, almost a prayer, spilling across her lips. ❝ i meant what i said. you have... been all the most vivid colors in my memories of this place. ❞ a gloved hand rises to place itself over his. ❝ it’s NICE to see all of those colors again. ❞

[ladyeliot]

Are you happy? [2/2] +18

Part One

Pairing: Ex!Chris Evans x Fem!Reader

Summary: After almost two years without seeing each other, fate brings you together again, each of you has your own reason for the reunion, which brings your feelings to the surface again.

Warnings: Angst. Sentimental confusion. Infidelity. Unprotected sex.

Word count: 3975

A/N: Sorry for my spelling and grammatical mistakes, English is not my native language, I am learning.

John Steinbeck once said 'One can find so many pains when the rain is falling', you had never understood that phrase, never until that very moment. The drops seemed to descend fiercely, crashing firmly against your face, you hardly realised at what point the intensity of the rain had become so extreme, as you continued to be completely blocked from contemplating the face before you, and time never stopped.

The red brick of the Victorian houses, decorated with colourful flower boxes, seemed to create an idyllic scene of which you two were the protagonists in that narrow alley, but neither of you noticed. Words that could not now be erased from your mind had come out of his mouth, a mouth that was at that moment half-open as if it wished to express something else, but did not. You had had to deal with enough events in your life to know how to deal with any new moment that came your way, at least you thought you had, but you would never have thought you would have to face this. A dilemma opened up in your mind, but also in your heart, you were sure that you loved Chris with all your heart, you had loved him for as long as you could remember, he was your childhood friend, you never knew when your feelings became romantic, he didn't know either, but you had your assumptions.

Anyway, that love had never gone away, and it was never going to go away, it was going to be there for the rest of your lives, but things were not as simple as they might seem. Your love might have worked during your adolescence, during your youth, but when things got serious, somehow or other the relationship didn't move forward. There were no third parties, no cheating on either side, just different paths. Each of you had your own dreams that pushed you further and further apart, so far apart that you decided to end the relationship, which was not in the most amicable way possible.

The last two years were difficult for you, your smile had vanished from your face, but Garret appeared to give it back to you. You believed again that love was possible, and of course, although you always used to keep Cjris in mind, for which you used to blame yourself all the time, life seemed to be much simpler. Partly because of that, and because you loved him, you had accepted Garret's hand a month ago, but unfortunately you couldn't help imagining Chris the moment you said 'yes, I want to marry you'. And now there he was, Chris, in front of you, telling you that he was still in love with you and you could barely say a word because you had no idea how you felt, you didn't want to hurt anyone, you didn't want to suffer or anyone else to suffer because of you, but apparently it was too late.

Raindrops slid down your face, wiping away tears that you barely realised were flowing from your eyes, which were staring into Chris's. The radiant rays of sunshine had disappeared, bringing gloom to an autumnal morning, only the sound of the thunderstorm could be heard. The radiant rays of sunshine had disappeared, offering the gloom of an autumnal morning, only the rumbling of the storm could be heard. Chris finally lowered his face, nodding to himself, as if he had assumed defeat by not saying anything in the situation.

"Alright," those words came from inside him with a sigh. "I guess there's not much more to say," there was a moment of silence, in which he offered you one last chance to speak, but you could not. "All the best Y/N."

The lump in his throat that had been present since Chris had left his feelings open was massified when you heard your name forming on his lips. Before he turned away and continued on his way through the alleyway, he returned his eyes to yours in the hope that you would take control of yourself and stop him, but again you didn't. So you stood there, letting the rain wash over every part of you. So you stood there, letting the rain wash over every part of your body, watching as his figure gradually disappeared until he turned the corner and you lost him, lost him completely.

You had lost track of time since you left that coffee shop, you were stopped in that place for minutes, until your lower limbs mechanically carried you back to the car, where you remained silent for fifteen minutes. Your senses didn't seem to react, perhaps because you didn't want to feel, because you knew that if you felt you would be capable of doing something crazy, which would surely hurt someone a lot and you didn't want that to happen. His words played over and over in your brain, you glimpsed the blue of his eyes, the smile as you entered the cafeteria, his scent flowing into your nostrils, and his touch as you snuggled into his arms. It was like an internal torture that you couldn't get rid of, that you didn't really want to get rid of. Because who would want to get rid of the love of their life?

It was when the moisture on your face dried up that you realised that the wateriness of your eyes was not because of the raindrops but because you were broken. That revealed a large part of your feelings, your true feelings, which you had kept hidden, you loved him, with all your heart, as you had never loved anyone else, you had loved him for as long as you could remember, how could you not continue to love him?

A click made you connect again and brought you back to the real world, maybe your emotions were running high, but for once in your life you decided to act in the moment, leaving rationality aside, which had not allowed you to act before. You started the engine of the car, you knew perfectly well which direction you were going to take, you had travelled that road so many times that you hardly had to think about how to get to his house, where you hoped he would be. Your heart was racing and your adrenaline was pumping, but your hands around the steering wheel reminded you of that engagement ring on your left ring finger, causing you to slow down and stare at it. What the hell were you doing? If you did what you had in your mind two options were open to you, one was to make the biggest mistake of your life, the other was to win back the love of your life by breaking Garret's heart. Whichever you chose, someone would lose out.

Cars overtook you on the left as you kept wondering what to do, while the sky was still overcast and the rain was pouring down. Time became your enemy again, causing you to arrive in front of Chris's house without clearing your mind. You felt like you were back in the coffee shop, wondering whether or not to go in, whether or not to confront Chris. You turned off the engine of the car and dropped your forehead on the steering wheel, you could hear the drops falling hard on the roof of the car, which seemed to help you relax, strangely. You turned your face, staring at the front door of the house through the window, completely wet. The cafeteria had been a neutral place, this house was not, too many memories enveloped those four walls to go inside and not be affected by it. You were lost if you went in there, you knew what was going to happen and that you were going to let your feelings take you.

As if you wanted to give it one last chance you looked at the engagement ring that Garret had given you a month ago, you hoped that something would tell you that the best thing to do was to start the engine of the car again and get away from there as soon as possible, but it didn't. So you played your last trick.  So you played your last trick, a very dangerous one, you asked yourself the same question that Chris had asked you and that you had answered systematically without thinking, were you happy, does Garret make you happy? Then you knew. The next thing you did, you did it with all the pain in your heart, but you needed to think about yourself, the future you wanted, who you wanted to spend it with and most importantly, you wanted to be happy, so there was only one possibility.

Looking at the ring you slowly pulled it off your finger, your eyes started to water, you wanted to do it differently, but Garret was thousands of miles away, so you did what you felt at that moment. Again the rain came down on you as you stepped out into the open, but you didn't care at all, your gaze was fixed on that white door that was going to open the way to your past. As you walked steadily you let the air invade your lungs giving you the strength to face what was about to come. A faint light came through the curtains of the window that overlooked the living room, that erased the doubts that invaded you in case he wasn't at home, and without knowing why your heart skipped a beat.

There you were, a metre between you and his door, a single gesture away from letting him know you were there, and you did it, your index finger approached the doorbell, a squeaky melody sounded inside the house, and you took a step back, marking a distance for when the door opened. You looked down at your hands and fiddled nervously with your fingers, which were dripping from the rain. It was thirty-six seconds before you heard the lock turn and the door open, presenting the figure of Chris before you. You looked up nervously, not knowing what gesture you were going to get from him, but what you could glimpse was a state of confusion and hope mingled in his eyes. You parted your lips, still playing with your fingers.

"I..." was the only thing you could say before a lump rose in your throat and your tears wandered and mingled down your cheeks.

You turned your face and placed the palm of your hand on it, as if to hide the fact that you were crying. At that very moment, arms wrapped around your body and pulled you inside the house, making their body heat and that of the interior of the room cover your body. You broke down emotionally, you knew it was one of the things that could happen, too many emotions to keep them all hidden inside you. So soft sobs began to come out of your throat, you kept your eyes closed and your forehead resting on Chris's chest as he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you closer to his body.

"It's okay," he murmured against your head, letting out a sigh. "I'm here. I've got you."

After those words he placed a kiss on top of your head and then rested his hands on your cheeks, pulling away from you a few inches to search your face with his gaze. That was the last thing you wanted to do, because you felt confusingly embarrassed about the situation that was happening, he knew it, he knew you hated crying in front of people, but it was him after all. Chris gently lifted your chin to force you to look at his face, where there was a longing smile on his lips, but you averted your gaze, causing his smile to widen and he moved closer to your forehead to kiss it before he hugged you again.

"You're completely soaked," he whispered. "Come with me, the fireplace is lit, I'll get you some towels and some dry clothes."

Again the proximity was broken, but not the contact, Chris intertwined his fingers with yours, realizing something, you saw how he looked at your intertwined hands and then stared at you with his lips parted as if he wanted to ask, but he didn't, he preferred to ignore it. Your steps took you to your memories, when you entered the living room it was inevitable not to think about the times you both had occupied that sofa, or the times you had made love on that carpet next to the fireplace, it was an open diary.

"Make yourself comfortable, I'll be right back," he said, unlacing his fingers and heading upstairs via the staircase.

Your decisive mood with which you had left the car had collapsed at the mere sight of him, the little plan you had improvised in your mind had been cut short, putting you back on your own in the face of destiny. But what you were really sure of was what you felt, at least it was something you were sure of, it was him, only him, at that moment looking carefully all around you you realised that you never wanted to live again without him in your life, in whatever way it was, because in truth you were also in love with him, although you had tried to erase him from your mind during those two years.

His footsteps coming down the steps made you alert again, Chris entered the room holding two folded towels in his hands along with a sweatshirt you knew perfectly well and a pair of sweatpants, he stood in front of you.

"You can go and change in the bathroom, or if you prefer in the bedroom," he said offering you the set of items, "you know where everything is... if you want to give me your coat, I can put it in the dryer."

You nodded softly, still looking into his eyes, the warmth of the fire in the fireplace to your right washed over you, and the shadows created a pleasant ambience against the darkness outside. Slowly you undid each button of your coat and removed it from your body, offering it to Chris who took it in his free hand. You didn't know what happened in that instant, whether it was the intensity of your gaze, or the silence that was only broken by the raindrops and the sparks from the firewood, but you didn't stop. Just as you had undone the buttons on your coat you began to undo the buttons on your blouse, Chris's eyes shifted from yours to your hands and every movement they were making. As you finished you let the soaked blouse fall down your arms and onto the carpet, exposing your bare skin, covered only by a black bra.

In those moments, Chris's limbs seemed to be locked as he continued to hold the clothes and towels in his arms, still looking at your body with a look on his face that you couldn't describe. You offered him a few seconds of time to see how he reacted, but he said nothing, your hands slowly moved to the button of your trousers which you undid without looking away from his face, unzipped the fly and pulled your legs out through his thighs, leaving him again next to the blouse. That was the moment when Chris let everything he was holding fall from his arms and without a second thought he wrapped his hands around your body, pulling you closer to him, breaking the tension of the moment, wrapping your lips around his, kissing you as if his life depended on it. A gasp came from inside you as if the physical contact you were having wasn't enough, as if your chest was going to explode from one moment to the next. He brought his hands to your face pulling you away from him, needing to look at you to make sure that what was happening was real and not one of the fantasies wandering through his head.

"Don't stop," you murmured feeling weak as he pulled away from you.

As if on direct order Chris closes the distance again, but this time gently, caressing your lips tenderly, but the wetness of his lips and the roughness of his beard causes a moan of need to be reborn within you. His hands roam over your bare shoulders, gently down your arms, resting on your hips, as yours rested on his neck, preventing him from pulling away from you again. You felt small shivers of pleasure with every touch of his fingers on your skin, you knew that the situation would go as far as you wanted it to, that at that moment you had the reins, but really you had already lost them a long time ago. You dropped your hands until you reached the top of his sweatshirt which you pulled up indicating your need for him to disappear from his body. Chris acted, exposing his body to you.

Your fingertips scanned every nook and cranny that you thought you had lost, that you thought would never be yours again, but there they were before you. Chris brought his lips to your neck, making you lose your reason for being again, as he caressed your back and took the liberty of unclasping your bra, causing it to fall to the carpet. You knew then that you would never tire of the fluidity of his tongue running along your collarbones until it came to rest on your breasts.

A contraction arose in your intimacy making you realise the need you were exploring for him at that moment. Without hindrance you took it upon yourself to undo the button of his jeans that slid down his legs revealing his need for you.

"You can't imagine how many times I've thought about this moment," he mumbled against your lips, undoing his trousers as best he could.

His arms curved to grasp your thighs and encircle his hips, letting your naked bodies collide, that movement alone an action that brought you to lie on the woollen carpet. The softness of his fibres and warmth enveloped your back, as Chris's lips trailed across your belly while your panties trailed down your thighs until they disappeared from the scene. The shadows wandered between you, the fire seemed to want to be part of the moment and you appreciated it, it was warm, but no more so than his lips resting on your centre, sliding his tongue between your folds, making you lose your composure, letting him know the pleasure you were feeling at that very moment. The throbbing in your core began to intensify as his tongue brushed against your clit, until you could take no more and became a prey to your own pleasure, calling out the culprit's name over and over again.

But before you could even relax, before the throbbing could stop, you felt Chris want to be a part of it and gently thrust inside you, causing a deeper moan from both of you to fill the room. It had been too many years together, you knew to the millimetre the sensations the other person experienced, what made them feel the most pleasure, what they liked. Chris loved to feel your throbbing when his tongue made you orgasm around him, and that was a sensation he extrapolated. Inside you, however, he just felt you around the stiffness of his member, he barely made any movement, he just kissed your neck, lying on top of you, waiting for the calmness to take over and transport you back to paradise.

"Move, please," you begged, hoping to prolong the moment of pleasure you had just experienced, preventing him from leaving at all.

His movements began delicately, keeping himself propped up on his elbow while his other hand cupped your hip. Having him on top of you, the two of you lying on that carpet which had been part of your love on so many occasions felt like you had travelled through time. His ragged breaths came against your face, you wrapped your legs around his waist so that the depth of his member was greater. You could feel the rapport between the two bodies, the need to have each other again. Nothing seemed to matter in those moments, you felt his movements erase all the worries that were present in your mind, the only thing that mattered in those moments were the two of you.

His lips were pressed to yours, letting out gasps as his movements increased in speed. Your fingers were lost in his hair, as you kept your eyes closed, exploring how the pleasure continued each time his member slapped against your inner wall. And you felt it, his stiffness swelled inside you, you knew that's what it meant, he was close. You opened your eyes to find that his gaze was focused on you, that he was waiting for some sign from you that would prevent him from carrying out his release, but you merely trapped his lips between yours and placed a hand on his hip to keep him going.

A much smaller free fall than the first one you had felt engulfed you next to him, his moans projecting your name into the inside of your head, his movements becoming irregular and deep, making your bodies move across the carpet.

Calm, after a few minutes, came over you, making you feel the burn of your back from the rubbing of your nakedness against the carpet, making you feel the dampness of your hair still present and the flush of his cheeks from the heat of the fire in the fireplace. After Chris came out from under you and settled right behind you, you curled up sideways facing the fireplace. You felt his lips kiss every part of your reddened back and his arm went around your waist pulling you to him.

"Are you okay?" he asked as he placed a kiss on your bare shoulder.

"I think so," you replied contemplating the sparks from the firewood.

Fortunately you didn't have to project your feelings, he knew how you might be feeling right now, though he didn't get half of what you were really going through.

"I think you know that," he began in a soft tone that matched the atmosphere, "but I need to tell you that I love you," there was silence, as your torturous feelings came over you. "I know your head will be a complete mess right now, I don't want to burden you, I just want you to know that I'm here, that I'm still in love with you and that I intend to never part from you, if you'll let me."

Vulnerability came over you as you heard those words, you felt like you were a child again and you were faced with a decision you weren't capable of facing, you just wanted to feel protected, so you turned your body and came face to face with Chris. His legs wrapped around yours, agreeing to an even more intimate moment if that was possible. When you looked up into his face his smile was waiting for you to relax, to make you see that he was there with you, that everything was okay.

"Everything will be fine," his voice was confident, warm, his voice denoted the future.

Taglist Open (DM)

MAIN MASTERLIST

[the-avengers-ate-my-tongue]

The Storm

Summary: You work with Jack Crawford and Alana is your cousin, both of you live together for a long time. She gets caught up with a flat tire far away and asks you to let Will in, for he's expecting her. A storm is coming, and she keeps taking longer and longer to show up. Will the universe conspire in your favor?

Pairing: Will Graham x reader

Warnings: swearing, insinuation of smut, fluff.

Word count: 4.328

A/n: I'm starting to consider changing this tumblr for a Hannibal one, mostly Will Graham, so some requests from other fandoms would be nice haha hope you enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing ♥️

*not my gif

There wasn't a thing such as a boring day at the BAU. 

At least not when you're part of Jack Crawford's crew. There was always an interesting case to focus on, a disfigured body to study the reason of death, it was always a thrilling hunt for evidence. The best experience I've ever had so far in my career, and I could only thank my cousin Alana for putting me on the Guru's radar. I was a great crime scene investigator, albeit a little younger than people gave me credit for. I taught people not to underestimate me over the years, though. I got here by my own effort, being a tenacious, hard-working woman who wouldn't get a no for an answer. 

I got along well with my crewmates, Beverly Katz, Brian Zeller and Jimmy Price, though our relationship hardly extended for life outside work. Except for Beverly, we went out for a couple of beers sometimes, she was fun, witty and I really liked our conversations. Jack was the big boss, and that was it. I had a lot of respect for him, and I knew he didn't regret bringing me to his team, I could see it in his eyes in the first case I've got. I was very cunning when I shared my insights about the cases, sometimes I saw things no one else could, no one but…

Of course, I was far, far away from being a Will Graham. But ever since I was younger, I've had this sort of intuition that helped me to solve problems, I would solve riddles easily and when people asked me how I got to the answer, I wouldn't know the steps, I just knew deep in my bones I was right. That happened a lot when I was growing up and was even stronger now that I knew how to use it. It was some artifice of my inconscient, something I could always count on. It included everything in my life, math, logical thinking, riddles. My brain picked things I couldn't perceive clearly, bringing them to the clear waters of my conscience. 

Will Graham was a curious man. He intrigued me from the very first moment I saw him at the house of one of the last victims of The Minnesota Shrike, Garret Jacob Hobbs, now dead. He was practically hiding in a corner, his eyes closed behind the lens of his glasses, dark wavy hair, jawline for days. He seemed highly focused until Beverly started to talk to him, pulling him out of his daze. He could barely look at her, or at me, and although he looked socially awkward and troubled, he still managed to look like a daydream. I studied every inch of his face, lowering my gaze when he seemed to get uncomfortable, after smiling lightly. I was a bit shy myself. I lived with Alana and, when I got home that night, I absentmindedly asked her about that curious handsome man who seemed to be out of place, yet so connected to that scene. She started to talk about him, but stopped once she noticed my interest. Then, she told me he was a very unstable person, that she wouldn't even be alone in the room with him because of her professional curiosity. As time passed and he solved more and more cases, I could see how people looked at him like an attraction of the zoo. However, not me, and later, not Beverly. Brian didn't seem to like him very much, I could see. Envy, perhaps? Nevertheless, the more I saw Will, the more intrigued I got. He avoided eye contact like the plague, but as I was always friendly and tried my best to treat him like a normal person, not focusing only on work, dead bodies and serial killers, I saw more of those beautiful blue eyes. He knew I was Alana's cousin, and I sooner realized he had a fling for her. 

And boy, did that break my silly little heart. I wasn't surprised, though. Who could blame him? Alana was amazing. I never felt resentful for that, but as time passed, I started to detach from the idea of Will being somewhat more than a simple acquaintance. That afternoon, I was going home from work when I got a call from Alana.

"Speak fast, I'm driving." I said, keeping one hand on the wheel and the other holding my phone.

"You're going home? Great. I invited Will so we could talk about a profile I'm building, but I got caught up here. I already spoke to him, he's almost there, can you let him in? He said he'll wait, and I'll be home in about fifty minutes, no more than that, hopefully." She said in a hurry, and I felt my cheeks burn a little. Will and me? Home alone? 

"I…" I hesitated, chewing my bottom lip nervously. "You won't be long, right? Heard on the radio there’s a storm for later."

"I won't, promise. Just let him in, he's already aware I'll take a little longer to be there. See you soon. Thanks, Y/n!" She hung up, not leaving me any time to answer. I put the phone down, still chewing on my bottom lip. I could feel excitement rising on my stomach, making me feel slightly nauseated, and noticed my hands starting to sweat.

Please. That was ridiculous. What was I, a teenager? I was a grown-up, well-succeeded woman, for God's sake. I rubbed my hands on my jeans, driving a little faster than I usually did almost unconsciously. I got home after twenty minutes, parking outside the pretty house. Will was already there, leaning against his car, so lost in his thoughts he barely noticed I'd arrived. I looked at my reflection at the mirror hurriedly, fixing my hair, pinching my cheeks to look less pale, brushing my eyebrows with my fingers to make them look neat. I wasn't even wearing any lipstick today. It had been a long day at work. 

I opened the car door, exiting the vehicle, the noise from shutting the door finally bringing him out of his daze, and he finally seemed to notice me. He smiled lightly, lowering his eyes. He had his glasses on, but as soon as he saw me, he took them off, hanging them on his shirt.

"Hey, Will. I hope I haven't kept you waiting too long. There was a little bit of traffic." I justified, walking to the porch and waiting for him to follow me. 

"Y/n. Not at all, I just got here. Alana explained what happened, thanks for coming to let me in. Hope I didn't ruin any appointment you may have had." He waited until I unlocked the door, and we finally were engulfed with the warm air of the heater.

"Nope, I was coming home, no appointments lost. Please, come in. I'm not sure you've ever been here before, but make yourself home." I hung my trench coat, sighing with the pleasure of being home. I loved the atmosphere of that place. "Can I get you anything? Water, soda, beer…"

"Thank you. I'm fine. And no, I haven't been here before." I held back the temptation of saying "good", biting my bottom lip as I watched him sit on the couch. I just stood there for a while, not sure of what to do next. 

He frowned a little, probably thinking why I was acting so weird, and that made me nervous, because it was just an easy step to realize my silly crush on him. Did he know? What if Alana said something? Said something? For fuck's sake, he was Will Graham, he could probably see that written across my stupid face! Shit, he knows. I'm making a fool of myself. Why do I even…

"Is everything okay?" His voice startled me a little, pulling me out of my neurotic breakdown, and I wondered how my facial expressions looked. Was I blinking only one eye like the stereotyped madness of cartoons? I certainly didn't look normal. I cleared my throat, laughing lightly.

"Yeah. Yeah, I guess I'm not really used to having people over anymore. I've been working a lot lately. People are dying like flies." I sat on the armchair in front of him, sighing. 

"What we do can be overwhelming sometimes. What we see every day. It just… stains you." He said, with a dark look on his serious eyes. 

I nodded. I felt that way sometimes, but I was used to it. I stopped feeling that sense of inadequacy on my chest years ago. 

"I guess you just begin to cope with it, though. Our brain adapts to that harsh reality. But it's always nice to vent somehow. What do you do in your free time?" I asked, wondering if I was getting too personal. Did I sound like I was probing to ask him out?  I felt my face getting warm. Damn it.

Either he didn't realize, or he was just too chivalrous to point, but he didn't mention anything.

"I fish." He said, simply. I nodded with a light smile.

"And you play with your doggies." I pointed, smiling wider. I loved dogs. He'd mentioned them before, so I just brought the subject up, trying to shift the attention from me to them. Will smiled back, his eyes with a subtle glow. He really loved them, and that was so sweet. "Fishing sounds nice. Unfortunately, I could never. I'm too restless. I'd probably startle all the fish and wouldn't catch anything."

He laughed, and that was the first time I ever heard that sound coming out of him. I felt like I was someone deaf that was able to hear the sound of Mozart's symphonies for the first time, and I just knew. There was never detachment from the idea of Will being more than an acquaintance. It was tackled down inside my brain somewhere, for the brain tends to adapt to harsh realities, but it was still there, just waiting for some incentive. 

"It's just a matter of training, getting used to it. I could teach you someday… if you want." He blinked a few times, as if he was surprised with his own boldness, smiling lightly. "And you? What do you do to vent?" He asked, seeming genuinely interested.

"Well, I read a lot. Maybe I could read by the riverside while I watch you fish." I said, shrugging with a subtle smile.

"It's a date, then?" Will inquired, making me mortified. Caught me by total surprise, and when I was about to say something, my phone rang.

"Excuse me." I answered the phone. It was Alana. "Hey. We're already here waiting for you."

Not that I wanted her to arrive any time sooner, but she didn't have to know that.

"You won't believe me; I've got a flat tire. There's a guy helping me out, I was lucky, I'm in the middle of nowhere. But I'll get there in about fifty more minutes, more or less. Can you put Will on the phone? I'll explain everything to him."

"Do you need one of us to pick you up? I'm sure he wouldn't mind, I wouldn't…"

"No, he's almost done. Thank you. Let me talk to Will, I'll be there soon. The storm is about to catch me, I wanna hurry."

I sighed, grimacing at him. 

"She wants to talk to you." I passed him the phone, studying his expressions while he talked to her. As I looked at the window, I could see the dark clouds gathering up, making the end of the afternoon murky. The storm was about to hit hard. I could see a few thin drops of rain starting to wet the glass.

"I can stay a little longer, no problem. I'm being well attended." He traded looks with me, biting his lip slightly. "Okay. I'll see you soon, Alana."

He gave me the phone, but Alana was already gone. I put it on the coffee table, getting up.

"I think I'll pour myself some wine. Do you want some?" I asked politely. "It's one of the fanciest ones; Hannibal gave us a bottle when we dined at his house a few days ago."

"Yes. Thank you." He waited for me to come back with the beverages, and I did my best not to spill anything, sitting on the couch beside him while I gave him the glass. "So you're acquainted with Dr. Lecter?"

"Oh yeah, he's an old friend of Alana's, sometimes he invites us to dinner. He cooks the best meals I've ever had in my entire life, so I don't exactly decline the invitations. And he's one of the most brilliant people I've ever met, so it's always interesting." I took a sip of the crimson liquid, moaning low in pleasure. Good wine. I preferred a good cup of hot oolong, but it was impossible not to appreciate the quality of that drink. 

A few glasses after and a lot of talks about dogs, fishing and other hobbies, he finally felt safe to bring back the topic. The rain had started really pouring, the now thicker drops hitting the windows loudly. Alana hadn't called again. It was nighttime now, the sky seeming to be darker than usual. I was low-key worried about her, but the conversation was too great to interrupt. She was a good driver. She would be just fine. 

"I've been seeing Hannibal Lecter in his office. Not exactly his patient, though. A courtesy of Jack Crawford to keep an eye on the coping of my brain functions." He sounded a bit bitter, drinking a few sips of his wine.

I could see he didn't like therapy. Must be hard with someone with a mind like his.

"You know, sometimes, Alana psychoanalyses me. Like, she doesn't even notice. It's cute, but sometimes it creeps me out." 

"She has a professional curiosity about me, but she's too polite and considerate to let it slip out. We've never even been alone in the same room together."

I held back a bitter comment, not wanting to talk shit about my cousin, but he saw it right through me. 

"Sorry, I didn't mean to put you in a complicated position."

"I know. You're sweet." The word slipped through my tongue before I could contain it. Will blinked a few times, seeming surprised, and I felt my cheeks burn, starting to stutter. "I meant… I'm sorry, did I make you uncomfortable?"

"No, no. It's just… no one's ever called me that before." It was my time to get surprised. He didn't seem to be complimented much, and that just made me flabbergasted. I couldn't be the only one who saw how fantastic Will was.

"... Ah. Well, some people are just shy. I'm shy as hell, don't even know how I had the nerve to say that, it's probably the wine starting to kick in. Hope I really didn't make you uncomfortable, though. Don't need to be polite, it's okay to tell me."

"Actually, I'm curious to know what else you think of me. I sense it's not the only word you have to define me." He sounded bolder, and his eyes were on mine, giving me shivers down my spine. 

"Well… I think you're too exceptional to be defined with a few words. You're… Kind, brilliant… I see how seeing what you see, doing what you do, how it wrecks you sometimes, and you just keep doing it because you're saving lives. That's so selfless, Will. That's…" I was going to say more, but at that very moment, a loud thunder just made the house practically tremble, and I let out a real inelegant weep, coming closer to Will and holding his arm firmly, my fingers grabbing on the fabric of his shirt. He could've thought it was an artifice to get closer to him, but he could see how frightened I was, trembling like a cornered wild little beast. I hated thunders, fireworks, anything loud. Feeling ridiculous, I released his shirt, apologizing with embarrassment.

"It's okay. It's just noise. I'm here." He put some of my hair that had fallen to my face behind my ear with such a tenderness that I felt my stomach twitch, realizing suddenly how close we were. He was looking at me as if it was the first time he was actually seeing me. 

The phone rang again. Alana! I grabbed it from the coffee table, turning to face Will. He wasn't avoiding eye contact anymore, his pupils were dilated. My breathing was accelerated, and I knew it had little to do with the thunder.

"Lana, is everything okay?" I asked with genuine concern. "Are you close?"

"Ah, Y/n. I'm so sorry. I don't think I'll make it in time, I'm driving slow, the roads are slippery because of the storm and it's pretty foggy. I'll stop at a motel and spend the night, or at least wait for the storm to pass. I'm so furious with myself!"

"It's okay cuz, do what's safer for you. I'm sure Will will understand. I'll pass him the phone." I gave him the phone and he talked to Alana for a few minutes, but I wasn't listening. She'd ruined the moment unintentionally, and now he was probably going home. When would I have an opportunity like that again? 

"Okay. Don't worry. I'll see you tomorrow. Bye, Alana. Take care." He gave me the phone and I put it on the coffee table again. Before any of us could say anything, another thunder cracked the sky, and this time, Will held me so I wouldn't be afraid. The lights went out, and he held me against his chest protectively, making me smell his aftershave and some perfume. He smelled so good. For a moment, I just stood there in his arms, feeling his warmth, his breath, the steady beats of his heart. 

I moved away just a little to see his face, very close to mine, but it was so dark I could only see shadows. A lightning lit up the room and, just for a little moment, I could see his gorgeous eyes staring at me. After a soft touch of his thumb on my lips, he finally kissed me, so gentle, like I could break as fine china with any rougher move. I touched his neck with both my hands, playing with his hair, feeling how soft they were. He pulled me closer, his hands on my waist, and the kiss started to get deeper, voracious, as if we were hungry for each other. Maybe the wine was helping to raise the lust; all I know is that I've wanted that to happen for a long time. Will's kiss was everything I imagined it would be, but entirely different at the same time. All I could say was that he was great at it. His hands traveled through my body, and I grabbed his hair, pulling it slightly. That made a low growl echo through his chest, and I started to feel my body fervent as a bonfire.

I couldn't say much because I was breathless and I didn't want to stop what we were doing, so a single word left my lips as I kept my forehead on his.

"Stay."

Will bit his lip, kissing me again, and that was all the answer I needed.

xx 

Morning. Thin sunrays illuminated my bedroom floor through the curtains, waking me up. The storm was gone. I haven't had a nice night of sleep like that in ages. I looked at the other side of my bed and there was Will, sleeping heavily. It wasn't a dream, after all. Last night really happened. I smiled, staring at the roof with disbelief in my eyes.

I stared at him for a few seconds, unsure of what to do. Should I just let him sleep? He looked so heavenly, his hair was messy, his breathing steady, he seemed so less troubled than he usually was. I touched his hair lightly, caressing it with tenderness, and he started to move. I could see his neck, and a few hickies we marked on his albescent skin. That made me blush a little bit, and I laughed silently. 

He opened his eyes while I still touched his hair, but I didn't stop, and he didn't seem to want me to. We stared at each other in silence for a few moments, and he smiled, a different smile than the usual ones he gave me.

"Hi." He said, pulling me closer by my waist, stroking the skin under the sheets. I pecked him on the lips, then kissing his forehead, his cheek, his jawline. 

"Hey there. Good morning. I'm starving, are you having breakfast with me?"

"Actually, I gotta go home. Feed the dogs." He said, stroking my nude shoulder with his finger.

"Of course. Your dogs. I won't keep you then, poor babies must be so hungry." I kissed his cheek and was about to get up when he pulled me again, gently kissing my lips. I smiled, probably looking like an idiot. A joyful idiot. "I'll let you get dressed. I'll be in the kitchen."

I dressed up in my long and black robe, smiling at him before I left the room, going to the kitchen, where I started to make some french toasts. After a few minutes, I heard the front door open, and an exhausted Alana came in, her hair frizzy and her coat looking still a bit wet.

"Oh, Lana! Go change, you'll get a cold!" I stopped what I was doing, going to her and helping to take off her coat.

"That storm was a nightmare. I swear I won't ignore the warnings ever again. I'm so sorry, I had no idea it would get this bad, yesterday was one of those days where everything just goes wrong. Hope Will arrived well at home, did he seem disappointed or annoyed before he left? I was so inconvenient…"

I didn't even have time to answer, because Will opened my bedroom door, coming out while buttoning his shirt, suddenly realizing Alana was there.

"Oh." Alana said, looking so flabbergasted I almost laughed at her. Will rose his eyebrows at the sight of her, seeming a bit unsure of what to do or say. I wasn't planning for her to find out like this, it was a bit early, I wasn't expecting her to arrive so soon. "Hi, Will."

"Alana. Hi." He avoided looking at her, staring at me, and his eyes immediately softened. I smiled, he smiled back, and that was it, Alana was forgotten.

"Off you go to feed your children." I joked, biting my bottom lip. "I guess I'll see you later, then."

"Definitely." He simply said, kissing my forehead while caressing my hair, certainly a little embarrassed to kiss me in front of Alana. "See you later, Y/n. Bye, Alana."

"Bye, Will." I waved with a soft smile, and he grabbed his jacket, leaving the house.

My smile grew larger and I left my head fall back, squeaking low in commemoration. What a night! What a morning! I never thought I would thank a storm so much, let alone a bloody thunder.

Before Alana could say anything, I realized Will had left his glasses at the coffee table, and I picked it up in a hurry, bursting through the front door and calling him before he left, waving in front of the car.

"You forgot your glasses!" I said, and he opened the car windows, raising his hand to pick them.

I leaned against the car window, putting the glasses on him, and kissing his lips fiercely. He moaned in surprise, holding my face to deepen the kiss. After a moment, I pulled away, appreciating the view of his lips so reddish. 

"Go back inside, it's cold." He said with a cheeky smile, and before I could say he actually made me hotter, he took off with the car.

I went back inside, where Alana was waiting for me with her arms crossed. 

"What the hell did you do to Will Graham?" She asked, sounding severe, but a smile was trying to escape her lips "I mean, besides trying to suck his soul with your mouth a few moments ago."

"Oh, shut up!" I laughed, blushing violently. "You made that happen, you know? Thank you. Was that a set up or did the universe actually conspire in my favor?"

"I wish I'd planned this. That would mean I would've had a plan b and I wouldn't have stayed at that disgusting mote… Y/n, you're full of hickies, I can't believe you!"

"You're starting to sound like my mom, Lana. I'm gonna wear a turtleneck, don't worry, I don't want Beverly all over me like a bloodhound and Brian and Jimmy's witty comments today. In fact, keep it to yourself, okay? Will's discreet. I won't even tell Beverly, if she finds out, the whole bureau will know, hell, maybe even Freddie Lounds."

"I told you to let it go, Y/n. Will's very unstable right now. I… I only want what's best for you." She said with concern in her bright blue eyes. I sighed, walking to her and kissing her cheek with affection.

"You're a good cousin. But I'm a big girl. I can take care of myself, okay? Unless this isn't only about me, unless it concerns something else." I raised an eyebrow while staring at her, more confident that I've ever been. "Is there something you wanna tell me?"

She hesitated, clenching her jaw, but never spoke. 

I smiled, tapping her cheek very lightly in approval.

"I gotta get ready to work. Wanna grab lunch with me later?" I asked in a casual tone, a cynical smile on my face. She shrugged. "See you later then, cuz."

[whats-rambled-rambled]

stuck in stories - I’ll be around

Neil x Reader

summary: aftermath of a panic attack

+ song: Garret Kato - I’ll be around (acoustic)

warnings: mentions of nightmares, panic attacks and loss

author’s note: Thank you so much for this request, dear anon, I feel like that was an important gap in their story to fill. And that’s why I decided to keep the song as the title of this one.

(As I am quite terrible at comforting others myself, I can just hope Neil did a better job than I ever could.)

This is basically chapter 5.5 from Stuck in Reverse series, so if you want to know a backstory behind this one-shot, you should consider reading at least chapters  4 and 5.

But even without that, there is plenty of softness here for you to enjoy.

A penny for your thoughts?

___

Another sleepless night.

It was different this time though. To be fair, how could you sleep after what had happened? 

You didn’t have enough time to process the events of last night. A part of you was scared it might have been yet another dream; your brain’s twisted attempt to make amends for the nightmare which made you spiral into a panic attack in the van. 

The fire flickering in the blue eyes. Neil’s forehead pressed to yours. His arms wrapped around you tightly, not willing to let you go ever again. That kiss. And how both of you had lost yourselves in that moment. 

You smiled as your legs carried you to the spot you’d watched the sunset from the day before. You would know for sure later. Right then you were too tired to think, but too afraid to fall asleep, so there you were at the cliffs again, just before dawn. You rolled out your sleeping bag on the ground and sat down, watching the fading stars as the sky became brighter with every minute.

When the first rays of sunshine were about to reach the mountaintops at the other side of the valley, you heard footsteps.

“Tea?”

You scoffed, glancing over your shoulder. 

Of course.

“Thank you, but how did you know where to find me?” you asked, reaching for a thermal cup.

“Had a feeling,” Neil shrugged, his lips curled in a knowing smirk. “Scoot over.”

You moved to the side, allowing him to kneel on the sleeping bag right next to you. 

Your eyes met as each of you tried to find answers in one another - was it all true? Or was it just a moment of weakness? 

Dumbasses.

When you both realized how mutual those doubts were, you started laughing.

“Oh, come here,” Neil grinned as he leaned your way, kissing you softly and sealing your new reality.

You chuckled against his lips, blinking away happy tears that made their way to the corner of your eyes. Your heart was singing in your chest. Neil wrapped one arm around your shoulders, shifting into a more comfortable position beside you as he pulled you closer. 

You took a sip from your cup, snuggling to his side. “Why did you choose tea over coffee though?” 

“I thought you may want to sleep for a few hours when we get back to the camp,” he said and gave you a warm smile. “You haven’t slept tonight, have you?”

You sighed. 

Neil’s hand was slowly rubbing your arm. “That’s what I thought,” he hummed. “So when I asked you if those sleepless nights happen often…?”

You could feel your body getting tense, and that was enough to let him know that you hadn’t been honest with him back then. Even though it made sense at that time - you’d just met after a decade of not talking to each other, and it hadn’t seemed like a proper occasion to unload all your problems on him. Still, you were embarrassed he caught you on a lie that easily.

“I just didn’t want you to worry,” you mumbled, fastening your gaze on your laps.

“I know,” said Neil, setting his cup aside. He put his hand under your chin and lifted it gently so he could look at your face. “But I worry when I don’t know what is going on with you. Especially if I can clearly see that something bothers you.” He placed a small kiss on your forehead and his eyes lit up. “It’s okay if you don’t want to talk about it. Try telling me that you’re fine or it’s nothing though, and I will toss you from that cliff,” he said as the corner of his lips twitched into a half-smile.

You snorted and rolled your eyes. 

At least he wasn’t mad at you.

You took a deep breath and started talking. As the sunlight slowly poured into the valley, you told him about your nightmares. How most of the nights you were forced to face your fallen teammates. About the crippling guilt from not being good enough or prepared enough to save them. And that every time you wanted to apologize for letting them down but you couldn’t.

With every sentence, it was getting harder and harder to breathe. When you started trembling, Neil shifted himself so he could hold you in his arms, his legs framing you on the sides. He took your hands and laced his fingers with yours.

At first, you barely felt any of that. You were too lost in your own head, sharing the memories of the nights when you were too afraid to fall asleep. And how you knew all that sleep deprivation made you prone to repeating your mistakes and risking even more lives. But slowly, with every stroke of Neil’s thumbs on your fingers, with his chest heaving steadily against your back, your breath leveled out; the warmth and safety of his embrace grounding you in the present.

Finally, you ran out of words. You pulled your hands to your chest, nestling inside Neil’s arms. He pecked your shoulder and pressed his cheek to your temple. For the next few moments, you sat in silence; taking in the views, the peacefulness of the early morning, the comfort of being close to each other.

“It’s impossible to prepare for everything, you know. Even if we try, some things will always be out of our hands.”

You sighed. “It doesn’t make it easier.” 

“I know, love,” said Neil softly, nuzzling your hair. “Still, it’s good to have that thought at the back of your mind.”

You nodded, exhaling slowly. Easier said than done. One thing is to know something, the other thing is to feel it, and that’s what you’d been struggling with the most. He was right though, and you appreciated the reminder. 

“What about the panic attacks?”

“They happen from time to time,” you said. “Most of them at night, when my guard is down. That one in the van…,” - you winced at the memory - “God, I can’t remember the last time it happened with people around, probably that’s what made it so much worse.”

“Does every nightmare trigger them?”

You shrugged. “No, not really.”

“What was different, then?”

You hesitated for a moment. Should you tell him? 

“My brain decided to spice it with a little game of what if,” you said bitterly. The image of the blue eyes behind the mask flashed in your mind, making you squeeze Neil’s fingers, still intertwined with yours. 

As if he could sense what was going on in your head, Neil wrapped his arms around you even tighter. “What a jerk,” he huffed into your ear.

“Yeah.”

Neil shifted to your side. As you turned his way, you met his worried eyes.

“I’m so sorry.” A sad smile, combined with his furrowed brows and his lips pressed into a thin line, gave you a hint at how helpless he felt right then. He moved closer and grazed your cheek with his knuckles. “If there is anything I can do…”

“Thank you,” you said softly. “You being there for me-... it means the world.” You brushed a strand of hair from his forehead and gently ran your fingers along his features.  “And you’re helping already.” 

A shade of smile on your face made Neil’s eyes light up. 

Those playful sparks were one of the only things in the whole world able to untie every knot in your stomach in mere seconds. You stifled a chuckle as you caught his gaze lingering on your lips. You tugged at his jacket. A little giggle escaped his mouth just before he kissed you, wiping away all the leftover numbness from your heart.

You stayed on the cliffs for a little while longer. 

On your way back to the camp, Neil got lost in his thoughts.

“How do you know they are judging you?”

That question caught you by surprise. You raised your eyebrows, “What do you mean?”

“Your teammates… How are you so sure? You said they are just standing there.” He tilted his head as studied your expression. “What if it’s not why they are there, and it’s your guilty conscience’s fault you read it that way?”

You opened your mouth to answer but you hesitated. 

It felt as if that one sentence kicked your brain off the rails. 

You weren’t sure if he was right, but for that moment, it was enough to unlock new paths in your mind. 

Neil shrugged lightly and gave you a half-smile.

“Something to think about.”

____

(continue to part 6)

[aion-rsa]

Army of the Dead: How Advanced Are Zeus and His Alpha Zombie Society?

https://ift.tt/2RBBQk8

This Army of the Dead article contains spoilers.

It’s not a subtle image. But then who comes to a Zack Snyder movie for that? During the bloody and marvelous opening credits to Army of the Dead, the alpha zombie they call Zeus (Richard Cetrone) earns his nickname while staring up at a statue of the ancient Greek god of thunder in front of the fictional Mount Olympus hotel and casino. Our Mr. Zombie+ may not be an actual god, but one alpha can clearly recognize another’s game, and as we eventually learn, “Zeus” will make the Greco-Roman themed high-rise his home in the months to come.

Olympus is again the seat of power for those who seek to rule over all.

Such is our early introduction to Snyder’s update of zombie lore in Army of the Dead, the filmmaker’s second zombie movie after his debut film nearly 20 years ago, the Dawn of the Dead remake (2004), and his first original project since 2011’s Sucker Punch. Obviously, Snyder is still playing with genre in his new undead adventure, embedding a heist movie into the trappings of a more traditional zombie survival horror. However, the closer one examines the zombie hierarchy of this new movie, the more evident it is that there’s little you could call “traditional” about Zeus and his brood.

“I think the conversation I was starting to have with myself is: What will people allow in this genre of film?” Snyder told Den of Geek earlier this month about Army of the Dead. If audiences are receptive to the film, the answer will be a lot since Snyder’s movie seems to suggest zombies can be highly intelligent, successful at problem solving, and even in some ways more evolved and egalitarian than us. And if they can ever get outside of the ruins of Las Vegas… they really might just be the new gods of this world.

Of course on paper, the idea of a “smarter zombie” is not entirely new. The grandfather of our modern conceptualization of zombie lore, George A. Romero, even began toying with his image of mindless undead shamblers with his third zombie movie, Day of the Dead (1985). In that film, a zombie they call Bub is trained to solve rudimentary puzzles and even use a gun by humans; he then develops affection for the scientist who taught him. Romero further built on the idea in Land of the Dead (2005) when a zombie nicknamed “Big Daddy” leads a pseudo-revolution by organizing fellow walkers to storm Dennis Hopper’s high-rise citadel of power.

However, both those films, particularly Land, were far more intrigued with the allegorical aspects of the undead workers of the world uniting, as opposed to deepening the definition of a zombie itself. Big Daddy and his cohorts represented the “have-nots” of capitalism and 20th century geopolitics, with Hopper’s character a thinly veiled caricature of then-U.S. President George W. Bush (he is killed by oil at the end of the film).

Other fictions have also somewhat explored the idea of an intelligent zombie, but it’s always been in a format meant to feed into other genre tropes, like the romantic comedy in Warm Bodies (2013) or high fantasy in Game of Thrones. Still, Thrones is probably the best comparison to what Snyder is going for in Army of the Dead since the White Walkers (or “Others” in George R.R. Martin’s novels) are the top of a hierarchical food chain with the ability to magically command the more mindless Wights. They even kept pets like undead horses and bears—which is not dissimilar to Zeus’ own undead mount and tiger in Army of the Dead.

Nevertheless, the White Walkers are essentially a fantastical catchall for any force of nature (or inescapable death) that overwhelms and obliterates the petty grievances of man. Hence the countless think pieces about the Night King being the harbinger of climate change. By contrast, “alphas” in Army of the Dead are not allegorical creatures at all. They’re envisioned to be the next step in evolution among the undead and (perhaps) humanity as well.

We don’t technically know where Zeus comes from in this story. There’s some cheeky lip-service paid in the cold open about the zombie king hailing from Area 51, yet these details are intentionally left vague and dubious. The point is that he was in the military’s custody and they rather hilariously lost control of the zombie. Now every person he bites becomes an alpha—which is odd since it raises the question of where the traditional walkers came from if Zeus is the proverbial Patient Zero of the zombie outbreak.

Be that as it may, after the new normal sets in around Vegas, we learn Zeus rules on high from Olympus, sending out his zombie tiger as if it were both a hunting dog and a herald to announce his power. And his elected ruling class of zombies have developed the ability to communicate and barter with the living humans who occasionally slip into their domain. We learn from Lilly (Nora Arnezeder) that she only successfully ferrets materials in and out of Vegas by sacrificing “shitheads” to her alpha zombie gods. And when she feeds one such sexist pig to the alphas, Zeus’ zombie bride (Hera?) communicates with the humans through a series of vocal cues, making it clear she accepts that these mouth-breathers are buying safe passage.

Which raises the question: just how smart are the alpha zombies in Army of the Dead?

Read more

Movies

Will an “Aggressively Anti-Snyder” Warner Stop the SnyderVerse?

By Joseph Baxter

Movies

Man of Steel 2: Zack Snyder Teases Superman vs. Brainiac

By Mike Cecchini

The answer appears to be very. Zeus is able to organize his fellow alphas into an army that attacks in waves, like the Night King in Game of Thrones. Yet each alpha appears to have its own personality and ambition. They are not extensions of his will, but creatures with their own individual thought processes—they just fear the real alpha among them. Maybe this is the only element of allegorical heft in the film, since Zeus has organized zombie society around a group of powerful producers who take what they want through virtue of their talent (the alphas) and a bunch of underachiever shamblers who don’t complain about getting scraps. One even wonders if there’s an undead Atlas to shrug among Zeus’ cohorts?

In any event, Zeus is able to problem solve enough to build a seemingly magic helmet that no high-powered bullet can penetrate, thereby protecting his sensitive brain tissue, and he can strategize how to lead an assault with both alphas and shamblers. Most importantly though… he can grieve.

In another significant departure from typical zombie fiction, Zeus procreates in this film the old-fashioned way. His new species still increases its numbers via zombie bites. Yet Zeus and his proverbial bride also conceive a child who is still in utero when she is decapitated. Zeus is able to be anguished by the desecration of her body (and later her final death), and he can be outraged by discovering his zombie child died for realsies in utero.

We have seen “zombie babies” and zombie children before, including in Snyder’s own Dawn of the Dead remake. But we have never seen zombies conceive a child, which seems to suggest zombies can actually age and grow in this universe. After all, the baby Zeus and his lover intended to birth could grow from an apparently zombified embryo, so can Zeus and his minions grow older themselves? Zeus’ hair certainly grows out over the length of the movie.

In which case, are the alphas in Army of the Dead really dead at all? In a biological sense, yes. Their hearts stop beating and they can apparently take any form of punishment except a bullet or blade to the cranium. In a philosophical sense, however, the differences between the living and the dead appear to have become moot. The alphas can procreate, strategize, and build a society of their own.

cnx.cmd.push(function() { cnx({ playerId: "106e33c0-3911-473c-b599-b1426db57530", }).render("0270c398a82f44f49c23c16122516796"); });

As even Lilly says, this isn’t their prison; it’s their kingdom. A realm for a new species that in some ways is an improvement on ours. For starters, they are a lot harder to kill. Zeus’ lover is outright decapitated and her head’s still going. But, on a more serious note, they also display fewer deficiencies of character. If Martin (Garret Dillahunt) hadn’t screwed over his compatriots to get to the roof alone, most of the cast of characters in Army of the Dead would’ve survived. In a plot point straight out of James Cameron’s Aliens, at least the alpha zombies aren’t “fucking each other over” for a percentage.

Additionally, the alphas can overtake entire communities in the span of a few days. If not for the wall erected by humans during the movie’s opening credits, North America would be swarming with zombies. So, in a way, putting Zeus down at the end was the best thing our heroes could’ve done for their obsolete species.

But—as teased by Vanderohe (Omari Hardwick) surviving just long enough to get out of the irradiated ruins of Vegas to notice his zombie bite—life, much like death, will find a way. And among the alphas, those distinctions are becoming almost meaningless.

The post Army of the Dead: How Advanced Are Zeus and His Alpha Zombie Society? appeared first on Den of Geek.

from Den of Geek https://ift.tt/3wojqSO

[thestoryofme13]

The Spiral

Prequel to Saving Me: The Spiral

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4

Warnings: Crying, self-harm, apathy, hopelessness, swearing, numb, weight loss

A/N: This is my attempt at an AU, but please look out for the warnings before each chapter, this is going to be triggering and I am going to do my best to tag all of them but I will need your help to make sure I don’t miss anything. I want you as readers to be safe. This was inspired by @ilovemygaydad and their fic Friends in Dark Places, which I highly recommend, you can see the all the chapter links and my thoughts on the story as a whole here.

Virgil woke up, he hated this. This stupid dream that his subconscious thought would be fun to torture him with. Why would his brain torture him with something that could never be? Not only was his real life a living hell, but now his dreams just had to poke fun at the idea of Virgil ever being happy. The problem with all of Virgil’s dreams is that they were always so vivid, that they could be real. This dream or some very close variation of it had been happening for about a month now.

The first time Virgil had that dream, he woke up in a state of sweet bliss. Then five or ten seconds later the reality hit him, that this dream of his would never happen. Logan and he were barely talking, and Logan had Garret. Once reality had set in Virgil had decided that today was too much and that he should try again tomorrow, so he had texted his mother to tell her that he was not feeling well and wanted to stay home. His mother did not object, she never really put up any fight against him on his views of school, if he didn’t want to go (whether he was sick or not was beside the point) she was not going to force him. That day he decided to stay home and just hide in his room, for the majority of the day, he knew this was a stupid response to a dream, but he couldn’t help it. After about the fifth time of having that dream or one similar he decided that he couldn’t just put his life on hold every time it happened, so he put on a “mask” and hoped no one asked him how he was.

Virgil groaned and rolled over, he grabbed his phone off the nightstand, it was 6:15, no real point in trying to go back to bed now. He still had another fifteen minutes to kill, before he actually had to be up. Virgil lazily removed the blankets from himself, instantly regretting that choice, his room was freezing. The cold was refreshing though, it reminded him that he was alive, even though he slightly wished he wasn’t. It gave him an idea since he did have the extra time he could get a quick shower.

The idea of taking a freezing shower, that would take his thoughts away from that dream and his life, breathed some new energy into his body. He quickly gathered his clothes for the day, black skinny jeans (that his mother hated, which only made him wear them more), a maroon long sleeve shirt that was one size too big for him when he bought it, but now was likely two sizes too big. As he got closer to the bathroom a sense of relief flooded over him, his problems would be gone soon, if only for a fleeting amount of time. This was something he had to do, what he needed more than probably anything else was to forget about that dream and his mess of a life. Some part of him knew that this wasn’t a good way to cope with these feelings, but he couldn’t very well talk to anyone. It is impossible to talk to friends when you haven’t got any.

Obviously, no one would want to be his friend now, he was damaged. Who would want to befriend someone that is already so broken and sad? The answer was no one, even before Virgil’s life went to shit, he wasn’t an interesting person. Logan probably only hung out with him out of pity. That’s the only thing that made sense, Logan hung out with him out of pity, and now that Garret came along, Logan no longer felt obligated. Virgil sighed, his life would be so much easier if his brain could be quiet for like two minutes and just give him a minute to breathe. He finally had everything he needed, for his fifteen minutes of quiet.

He quickly undressed and turned on the water to the exact spot it was last night and entered the shower. Except this time, it wasn’t freezing, the water barely passed for cold. Virgil fiddled with the knob but no matter which way he turned it, the water did not get colder. This is exactly what Virgil needed, he had just found something that could make his pain go away, and he couldn’t even do it again. Just the universe kicking him repeatedly in the ribs, to show him that he is not in charge of his life, he’s merely a pawn. He spent a couple of minutes still messing with the knob but eventually accepted defeat. He leaned against the wall of the shower and slid down, he didn’t have the energy to deal with anything going wrong today, he was at his limit before it was even 7 o’clock. 

Now he found himself sitting on the floor of the shower, the only thing he could manage to do was cry. He felt like a small child throwing a temper tantrum over things not going his way, but nothing had gone Virgil’s way for most of his life. These past couple of months were just a never-ending stream of things refusing to go Virgil’s way. It was as if someone or something saw Virgil’s life and was like, “You see that boy? He isn’t nearly miserable enough. I wonder if I could make this worse,” then placed bets on how many different ways they could cause Virgil pain.

Through his quiet crying, he could hear a voice, he sniffled to try and stop the crying or at least silence it so he could hear what was happening. Virgil’s mother was yelling from upstairs, “Hurry up, Virgil. I need to take a shower too, so don’t use all the hot water!” Virgil rolled his eyes, his mother was so oblivious to what was happening and made no real effort to help him, but if she did he’d probably push her away.  It’s not like she could help. She’d probably just tell him to toughen up, life sucks sometimes but there is no reason to cry about it. Virgil sometimes felt like she resented him, he was an emotional child, he tried to hide it but sometimes he couldn’t. Whereas, his mother was a very unemotional person, not to say that she doesn’t have emotions but rather she refuses to express her emotions.

Don’t get him wrong, he loved his mother, but there were times in which he believed his mother resented him. Her passive-aggressive comments about his weight, lack of friends, how emotional he could be, and how it seemed he could never be good enough, were all things he could do without. Virgil went through his life trying to live up to his mother expectations that were so high, they couldn’t even be defined and therefore, he failed miserably in comparison.

Tag list: @fandomsandanythingelse@justanotherpurplebutterfly @nyxwordsmith @michealawithana @fanfictionsideaccount@bubblycricket @moose-1967  @electricdaisycat @sanders-sides-fic-archive  

[tingleparker]

Hate to Admit

Brett Talbot x Reader

•Summary: Y/n has joined Devenfords lacrosse team.The day of the scrimmage against Beacon hills, Y/n finds her self being something she wouldn’t have ever dreamed of, let’s just say she needs to get her answers from a certain jerk.

•Warnings: None

•Word count- 2010

A/n: First imagine, probably very bad & I apologize in advance :-)

Brett Talbot, biggest jerk I know but also the captain of the lacrosse team I’m in. Although I’m lucky that they let a girl on the team, being with competitive jocks almost everyday is a pain in the ass but I guess its tolerable. Anyways today is the scrimmage against Beacon Hills, nerves and excitement washes over me as the bus pulled up into the opponents car park. I look out of the dirty bus window as I wait for my peers to file out. I see Brett surrounded by teammates standing tall over Liam. Liam Dunbar got kicked out of Devenford for destroying our coaches car, classified with having IED and one of my good friends. I try but struggle to push past the last few guys walking out the bus, trying to get out before either Brett or Liam kills one another. Finally as I stepped out of the bus I caught a snippet of the end of the two enemies conversation. “Yeah, you’re gonna pay for it, we’re gonna break you in half out there. And its gonna be all your fault”. Two other boys came up to Liam and one dragged him back towards the group of public high schoolers who gathered around to see the other school who was going to verse theirs. As I didn’t get a chance to actually talk to Liam I stood in the crowd of my teammates listening to what this other guy had to say. “Woah, hey hey hey hey hey! Whats going on prep students, welcome to our little public highschool. How ya doin?“ As he stuck out his hand for a shake. “Stiles” he states, unusual name but he does seem pretty cute. “That’s a firm handshake you got there. Uh we’re very excited for this scrimmage tonight but let’s keep it clean alright no rough stuff okay?” And there goes jerk Brett again, I can’t believe this is the guy I actually like. But I do not want to mess with him, you know him being a werewolf and all. Yes I know about him being supernatural because of his pea sized brain, he ‘accidentally’ flashed his eyes at me when I pissed him off. I saunter over next to Brett as he didn’t reply back, I jab him in his side making him glare down at me. I smile at him and turn my head to the unusual name guy. “No promises, but hey Stiles right? Y/n” I sweetly greeted as I put out my hand just like he did a few minutes ago to Brett. Stiles nods and awkwardly smiles towards me as he shook my hand. “Well nice to meet you, sorry ‘bout Brett, pretty sure he doesn’t have nice in his vocabulary” I say as I innocently look up to Brett beside me, having him roughly nudge my shoulder and sending a hard glare to Stiles who was stifling a laugh. “I do agree with that but I also agree that you are the best looking out of this bunch” Stiles blurts out the flirty sentence, a red blush fading in on his cheeks. “Did I just-, oh my god… I actually s-said that?” He stutters out as the realization washed over him. I smile and giggle at his awkwardness finding it cute how flustered he was, although someone else wasn’t as happy about it. All of a sudden Brett wraps his arm around me pulling my figure a bit closer to his. “As nice as this welcoming was, I think you should go back to your friends. We’ll see you on the field, bye Stiles” I nicely close off the conversation and started walking off towards their highschool, but before going very far Brett yanked my gym bag off of my shoulder and slinging it on his where his very own bag hung. His arm returning around me as he continued walking off, pulling me along with him. Although Brett was a jerk I seem to hate, I can’t seem to shake off the uh- minimal amount of feelings I have for him. As we get on the field, some teammates began stripping off of their casual wear, as others remained in their clothes and had already started practicing. Curiosity got the best of me as I walked towards Brett, who was now shirtless. “Why’d you do that?” I question avoiding looking down his body, my eyes stay on his face. “Do what?” He fired back smirking then retrieving his lacrosse stick. “What you did back there, when we were with Stiles” I wasn’t that annoyed even if it portrayed that in my voice, I was just confused about why he was being weird when Stiles blurted out the cute, flirty sentence. “Ohhh that, he was just annoying to me” he shrugged and ran off practicing with the others. Wow that was the worst answer I hoped for but in reality was I really hoping for anything special? And from Brett? That is literally impossible, but I can wish. I run out into the field, getting warmed up and practicing for this match, even though it was only a scrimmage, Devenford was competitive and I would like to keep my spot on the team. * After scoring goals, passing the ball and not really tackling too much there was a big collision between Brett,Liam, Garret and I. I fall onto the ground, the grass prickled all over my back as I feet excruciating pain spreading through my body. I took off my helmet but didn't have enough strength to pull my self up. After hitting with the three other players I had felt something very sharp pierce my abdomen. I cry out and groaned but the audience and the others who got injured basically drowned my pleas out. In a few seconds people gathered around me standing like giants as I laid there groaning in pain. People were kneeling next to me trying to find the problem but I couldn’t take it anymore as darkness took over my vision. * My eyes fluttered open only to see a dark ceiling, I slowly moved to sit up, my hands press against the metal table beneath me. I look around seeing my surroundings and I guessed it was their animal clinic? But why would I be here, I certainly remember being stabbed with something sharp. Suddenly I lift up the unfamiliar over sized shirt I was wearing to see nothing, no marks, no scratches and definitely no stab wound. My head started to throb and I could hear a slow but steady heartbeat, along with the distant hoots of the owls out at night. Was my heart beat that loud? How was I hearing an owl? Was one in here? That’s when I realized to my left was laying Brett shirtless and then re was some sort of yellow substance around his lips. “Brett?” I whisper just in case anyone else was here, there was no response. In the next half hour it consisted of me asking if Brett was awake or alive, listening to the little noises that I’ve never been able to hear this clearly before and wishing I wasn’t here right now. Now I started to get annoyed I just decided to leave Brett, (which I should've done ages ago) and go back home. So I unlocked the doors of the clinic and started my path to walk to the nearest bus stop,hopefully not waking my parents when I get home. * When I successfully made it up to my room, hearing light snores on the way there. I finally layer on my bed not bothering to change or pull the covers up. i was definitely not ready to sleep, my mind was racing with questions. Why was there no wound? Why was Brett there? Did I actually get hurt? Is this real? Why were all my senses heightened? Was i a werewolf? And What the heck just happened? This was all worrying and panicking me, what the hell is wrong with me. I then start to feel a tingle feeling on both my hands, I was horrified to see two sets of sharp claws slowly growing out of the tips of my fingers. By the time the claws were fully grown out I was freaking out, I stood up and walked over to my desk breathing deep breaths and leaning my weight on the wooden piece of furniture. I couldn’t control what was happening, hair started to grow on my hands and I could feel the sides of my face tingle. The claws on my hands digging into the oak of the desk leaving indentations. From then on the night was a blur of me scratching and ruining random things in my room. * “Her room should be this one” “let’s just hope nothing bad is being this door” “more like, hope its not her dead body laying on the floor” “Stiles! Not necessary” I hear the muffled voices being my door as I slowly woke up, just as the door creaked open memories flushed back into my mind of last night. I looked around my room and basically what was left was the bed that I was surprisingly laying on. “Woah! Looks like an animal rampaged in here… Haha get it?” I think I remember as Stiles joked, he was from the scrimmage. “Now is not the time” a guy replied, he was the one who pulled Liam back into the crowd. Then I spotted Brett behind the two. “Uh… Y/n right? I know this is all confusing but we’re here to help, I’m Scott and this is Stiles” The guy/Scott introduced. And that’s the beginning to my supernatural life in beacon hills. * Over the weeks that passed I learnt a lot about this world and even though I knew about Brett being a werewolf, being one myself was a lot of work. The full moons were a struggle to begin with but as I slowly came to terms of what I am, it got easier and I became my own anchor. A month ago this’ll kill me to say but during this month of controlling the wolf inside I actually bonded with Brett. As I went to Devenford it was easier to communicate with about these types of things instead of calling or taking the bus all the way to BeaconHills to talk to Scott or Stiles. Which leads me to now, I’m currently walking alongside Brett under the night sky after hours of training in the woods. “You know this actually made me not hate you” I said breaking our silence as we were in front of my house, turning to look at him. “You know I never hated you” he replied as we stood looking at each other. I didn’t know why but I started to move closer to him until we were only inches away, surprisingly he didn’t move away and actually did the same. Our foreheads were touching now and my eyes kept on flicking to his lips, both leaning in until our lips were brushing against each other and I could feel his breaths. My front door opened and my mum popped her head out. “Y/n Get in here, its getting late!” She shouted out, making me and Brett jump away from each other. “Uh, well that’s my cue. I’ll see you tomorrow?” I awkwardly asked as a shade of red flushed my cheeks. “Yeah, yeah I’ll see you tomorrow” Brett awkwardly stated. Without thinking I moved toward him again and pecked his lips. as I moved away I sheepishly smiled and walked to my front door and entered closing it and leaning my body onto it smiling and blushing. Little did I know Brett was doing the same as he brought his hand to touch his lips thinking about what just happened and walking away waiting to see you again tomorrow. I hate to admit it but Brett isn’t the jerk I thought he was and he might of stolen my heart.

My first imagine <3

[karma-khaos]

Rough draft to my short film.

Fade in:

 EXT. Driveway- Dusk

GARRET, American mutt, mid 20’s, revels in dark humor, nihilistic commentary, and self-destructive behavior, refuses to cope with pain in a healthy manor, preferring to charge into impulse decisions with reckless abandon. Smalls sparks of his previous “happy” life style are quickly over cast by self-proclaimed pathetic despair. Dark when he doesn’t want to be, desperately wants this chapter to end.

[GARRET is walking up his drive way as he answers a phone call from his friend JOHN asking about the party.]

J: So dude, did you end up hooking up with that girl the other night at the party?

G:What girl? You know I never remember anything from nights like that.

J: That dime piece in the little black dress that was basically eye fucking you all night.

G:yea, not ringing any bells man, I honestly don’t know why you even bother asking my shit like this at this point.

J: Nah, you’d remember her, that girl was like a goddess.

“well im flattered, but goddess seems like a bit much.”

[As GARRET enters his room he see a beautiful girl sitting on his bed]

G: uh John, what exactly did that dime piece look like again?

[JOHN proceed to describe the girl sitting on GARRETS bed perfectly]

G: yeah, I got to go man, somthings popped up.

S:It’s Sam in case you forgot, obviously your little fuckboy friend did.

G: Um, what are you doing in my room?

S: I’m hurt. But if you need a reminder Garret, I’m here to help you end it all.

G: uh huh, ok yup. Look sweetie you got the wrong craigslist ad but it’s all good, I’m sure this shit happens all the time, so just let me get the door for you aanndd…

[as Garret turns around to get to open the door to his bedroom Sam suddenly appears in front of him]

G: woah what the fuck?!

S: You might not remember it but I’m here to help you end aaalll your suffering because you’re the one begging for it.

G: ok, ignoring whatever the hell just happened you’ve still got to have the wrong guy, you’re making it sound like I just wanna blow my brains out and I’m not interested.

S: oh poor baby.You might not be deepthroating the barrel of that little revolver you have buried in your sock drawer, but with the habits you’ve picked up the past few months…you’ve done nothing but cry for help. Just look at the damage you’ve put your body through.

All the drugs…

[Flashback to montage of GARRET doing various drugs]

Taking anything and everything  people offer you just try and pick yourself up out of a whole you dug self into. You start rolling away and dive head first into self-destruction, and for what? When it’s 4am, and your all alone high as kite driving the streets she’s never going to invite back over to vent on her front steps again.

[GARRET has a subtle hint of pure shock on his face, just trying to process details to memories he thought he didn’t have anymore.]

All the drinking…

[Flashback to montage of GARRET binge drinking]

Your poor liver. It’s only been maybe 6 months but I doubt your BAC has come down to a legal limit once has it?

Your friends…or at least the ones you have left must think you’re one of those real cultured hipsters with all you know about liquor.

But we know the truth, don’t we?

The only reason you know so much by now is because nothing works forever.

The rum won’t get you through the day anymore, the whiskey won’t help you sleep, and all your stories with tequila don’t end so cathartic, do they?

So now you just try to forget. By any means you can, you just drink and drink till every night’s a black out and every sunrise has to be met at the bottom of a bottle because alcohol poisoning sounds more appealing than facing your fucking problems.

[GARRET sits down on the bed, now visibly unable to comprehend how someone he thought was a stranger knows so much about him.]

[SAM seductively walks over to the bed, clearly with motive, mounts on top of GARRET and begins to whisper into his ear]

And the women…

[Flashback to montage of GARRET bringing different women back to his bed, like the way SAM is taking GARRET now.]

You can’t fill the void she left in you by filling up every girl with pretty face that smiles your way.

What was your plan?

Was fucking your friends supposed to make you feel better?

Was fucking HER friends supposed to make you feel better?

All the random little trollops you’ve found weren’t going to magically replace her.

But I suppose I can’t blame you, with a dick like that I can’t imagine id do things any differently;)

[GARRET pushes SAM off of him and gets up off the bed to finally confront her]

G: Alright that’s enough! I get it! I’m fucking bastard. And you clearly get that I’m a obvious mess too, so what the hell do you want?

S: I told you baby, I’m here to end all this pain you’ve been feeling.

[SAM’s eyes suddenly turn pitch black]

You see Garret, you swipe right enough on tinder and eventually you run into a girl like me. All I want is fulfill every fantasy you can imagine so that for a night you can forget all about your pain.

G:yea well you sound like a robot on tinder.

S: Perhaps, but I’m the real deal.

G: the real deal comes with a catch, so what is it.

S: No catch here, it’s a win/win.

G: Bullshit.

S: You get to have me; however you want for whole night and then a few days later I end all your pain. Then I move on to the next one, win/win.

G: stop being so vague and just fucking tell me!

[SAM erupts, cracks form around her eyes and mouth, manicured nails transform into talons]

S: I’m here for your soul you ignorant little heathen!

[GARRET now terrified on the floor in front of SAM]

G: Then….the why are we even having this conversation? Why didn’t you just kill me when I walked in?

[SAM now attempting to calm down]

S: Because, your different.

I’ve done this so many times and it always plays out the same way.

I look for the heart broken man, their the easiest prey.

They tell me their sob stories, I brighten their miserable lives for a night, and then I come back a few days later to simply take what they no longer value. Their soul.

And most of the time it’s not hard because they’re usually begging me to come back.

But you, oooohhh you. You’re an anomaly I just can’t get out of my head.

Sure there are men that hurt than you,

but your despair is like an intoxicating cologne I can’t escape.

The regret I taste on you is something I can’t resist.

The air around you is dark but greets me with a warm embrace.

Your pain excites me to no end,

But it’s this faint, awkward little glimmer of hope you don’t let anyone see that really gets me.

You force yourself to suffer with every moment you get to yourself, every time you picture her face.

But you don’t want her back.

G: I just want better for her…

S: But why?!

I can’t count on 1 hand how many women I can thing of who deserve a man like that and yet her you are just throwing it at her every day.

She only showed you compassion when it was convenient,

She was emotionally distant,

She was just using you for sex because, and I quote “You’re the only one who knows how to fuck me right.”

And to top it all off she cheated on you.

G: Yeah, and my emotionally wrecked response to that is really what ended that relationship.

S: A relationship she didn’t deserve!

Look, im supposed to come back here and just suck the life right out of you and move on.

But I want to offer you a deal instead.

Be mine,

Show me the endless passion you’ve shown this girl.

And I’ll help you forget.

The pain is like a scar and it never truly fades but I can make you forget her name,

Let you move on.

[GARRET stands to his feet and lets the choice weigh on him]

G: So all I have to do to keep my life, and spend the rest of eternity fulfilling all my fantasies with a smoking hot demon is let you make me forget her?

S: that’s right, anything you want.

G: well in that case,my answer is…..

No.

[SAM recoils from GARRET’s response]

S: are you fucking insane?!

G: yeah obviously.

S:This isn’t some indie art house short film!

You don’t get some magic award for being the most depressing, self-destructive glass cannon in the room!

G:This is simply who I am, and I’m tired of making decisions based on what other people think I am.

You’ve painted me in a dark and pathetic light But you need to get your fucking fakes straight.

I’m not some broken little play thing that needs to be rescued and fixed.

I may not have made the right choices to cope with my problems but they we’re still MY choices and I CHOOSE to live with them.

So you can take your offer and shove it up your ass.

[SAM licking her lips now]

S: MMmmmm, I would have let you do it had you chosen differently.

[SAM grabs GARRET by the throat, suspending him up against the wall]

What a shame, the good ones always make the worst decisions.

[GARRET smirks, as if somehow, he’s one a battle with his inner demons.  Camera fades to black as SAM’s claws swing toward GARRET’s throat.]

[talonsaga-trash]

Rise and Shine, St. Anthony: You Lived, isn’t That Enough?

Summary: Tristan wakes up. And Garret couldn’t be more thankful. But as time goes on, he’s starting to think that Tristan wishes he had just died. (Aka, Tristan learns to deal with the aftermath of having a building fall on him.) Words: So many. A/N: Not as angsty as it sounds. Hopefully. Wait nvm it’s angst so much angst whoops sorry guys. Apparently if you want fluff you have to request it. Disclaimer: Talon? Not mine. Medical expertise? Not my forte. Don’t take my medical things as truth; I’m just a kid with a laptop.

Pain.

That was the first thing Tristan could register.

He couldn’t see, he couldn’t move, he couldn’t figure out which way was up, but he could feel pain. It was everywhere and nowhere at the same time, so overwhelming that he could barely think through it. He couldn’t even tell where it was, he could barely locate his body through it.

He didn’t know how long passed before he could start to sense anything else other than the pain. Mechanical beeping, dim blurs of light behind closed eyelids that were too stiff to force open. Sharp daggers through his throat and abdomen, scraping over his right arm and chest, a crushing weight on his legs. He tried to take a breath and failed, but it felt like there was still oxygen being forced down his throat. He tried to take another breath and coughed, which only made the beeping louder and the pain worse and the lights were getting too bright and there was movement and his chest his chest

“Tristan?” The voice was soft and fractured in his ears, but it pierced through the veil that seemed to be covering his entire body. He knew that person, person attached to the warm hand on his face. What was the name, what was happening? Where was he? “Tristan!”

Garret.

Tristan forced open his eyes and stared up at his partner, who was looking at him with an expression that Tristan couldn’t quite read. Everything was still too blurry, but just seeing Garret next to him made the pain feel more manageable. He tried to smile at him, but that just made everything from his face to his throat hurt. Garret was still speaking to him, but it was hard to make out. He wanted to ask questions, where he was, what had happened, why everything hurt... but he tried to move his lips and felt a sharp pain down his throat from what suddenly felt like a tube. He heart the beeping pick up as he tried to raise an arm to his face. Why was there a tube in his throat?

Garret took his right hand as he tried to move it and kept it at his side, still whispering nonsensical noises to Tristan’s ears. His arm stung and felt heavy, so he didn’t struggle. Garret was there. Garret could give him answers as soon as Tristan could understand him. And his hand was back on his cheek, warm and soft. That was all that mattered.

He wasn’t speaking when Garret was allowed back in the next day.

He still felt a childish anger that he had to wait so long after Doctor Grace shoved him away, despite Tristan’s non-understandable, raspy sings of protest. That in itself was a testament of how much Tristan didn’t want him to leave, considering that he had an oxygen tube in his throat that made any noise painful and any speaking impossible. But after she told him what condition his partner was in he could acknowledge that it was probably for the best that Tristan could be alone as he was informed what had happened. From the state of his body from the state of the Order, he probably needed the solitude to process the wreckage left behind.

“Hi, Tristan,” Garret whispered. Tristan looked at him, exhausted. His breaths were coming out in shallow gasps, but it was a simple relief to see him with a cannula over his face rather than a tube shoved down his throat. He still had IVs in both arms and a two tubes sticking out of his chest and stomach, but it was an improvement. He could breathe by himself. 

He hadn’t spoken.

“You can understand me, right?” Tristan nodded to Garret’s question and his eyebrows creased. His raised his arm shakily and ever so carefully flipped him off before letting his arm drop to his side. Garret laughed and Tristan gave a slight smirk, proud of his only possible brand of humor at the moment. “Glad you’re still in there, Trist.”

He snorted slightly and then winced. There were red tracks around his bloodshot eyes and Garret pursed his lips, the temporary happiness leaving him. His partner was alive, and he had just proved that he was still himself. But ‘himself’ was trapped in a body that had been crushed by a building.

Tristan had always hated that chapel.

“Welcome back to the land of the living and all that,” He finally said. He sank into the seat next to Tristan and took his hand. He didn’t twitch or squeeze back, and it broke Garret more than he thought he could be broken. Because Tristan couldn’t. Doctor Grace said that he probably would never be able to feel his left arm again, let alone move it. His right was in a plaster cast up to his shoulder with over thirty screws holding the bone together, but at least he’d be able to move it when the cast came off.

Tristan remained silent and Garret bit his lip.

“It’s... ah... October 23rd, if you hadn’t heard, almost Halloween. I visited Marc on the seventeenth for you, don’t worry about that. It still looks taken care of,” He said. He decided not to mention that he practically begged the gravestone to give his partner back to him. Tristan made a slight gasping sound and Garret squeezed his hand harder. “Can you speak? Grace said— She said...” 

Brain damage is a very real possibility, Sebastian. He hasn’t spoken since he woke up. I’m hoping that’s just disorientation, but I can’t tell how far it goes quite yet.

Garret pursed his lips and closed his eyes to stop himself from crying. He wasn’t supposed to be upset, Tristan was alive, Tristan was alive, that was a cause for happiness. But Tristan wasn’t talking, he was barely breathing, he still had tubes sticking out of his stomach and chest, and he might never walk again.

“Sssss,” Tristan whispered. Garret’s head shot up to meet Tristan’s eyes, narrowed with pain and concentration. “Ssss... se...igh’.” His voice was hoarse and tight, but the fact that he had managed to speak, or at least make something related to English words, was enough for Garret to breathe a sigh of relief and almost start crying harder. “Ssss.”

Garret nodded and wiped his eyes. “I feel like I should be the one comforting you.”

Tristan gave a breathy laugh and tried to smile, but the stitches over his face stretched painfully and he stopped.

He didn’t try to speak again. But he could. And he did. That had to be something.

Garret was pretty sure that the moment Tristan’s cast came off he was going try and strangle either Doctor Grace or Garret. Or maybe Ember. Five days of being conscious, four days of Ember coming in to visit him Garret, and two days after accidentally ripping out his feeding tube, Tristan was getting understandably agitated of being surrounded by the same four walls. But no matter how much he sympathized, Garret would rather not be killed by his partner.

“Be agreeable or else Grace is going to get someone else to do this.”

Tristan hissed low in his throat and Garret groaned. Speech was still something he was working on too, though not for lack of trying. But after five days, everything still came out choppy and muddled no matter how hard he tried to form a sentence. Garret would hear him trying to talk to himself during the night when they were both supposed to be sleeping with varying amounts of success, but it usually ended up with him bursting into tears.

“Tristan, please. I know it’s humiliating, but the point stands that you can’t move your arms. So please work with me,” Garret said. Tristan clenched his jaw. “You’re the worst and I will pry your mouth open if I have to.”

If anything, Tristan’s glare darkened even more, blue eyes drilling a hole through his head as he finally did what he was told. Garret shoved a spoonful of oatmeal in his mouth before he could change his mind. Hopefully, that would be the hardest bite, unless he threw up from the taste. Which Garret wouldn’t blame him for doing. Two days of oatmeal and water. Two days of having to be spoon fed everything.

Tristan muttered something completely unintelligible after he swallowed, so muddled and accented that Garret couldn’t even tell if he had tried for English or given up on that front. He accepted the next spoonful grudgingly and then almost coughed it back up. Garret sighed and scraped some off his chin with a spoon, eliciting a whine of what Garret guessed was both frustration and mortification from Tristan. 

“You’ll have use of your right arm soon, don’t worry. Then we won’t have to do this anymore,” He promised and gave Tristan some water through a straw. Soon. Like soon he’ll be off oxygen, and soon he’ll be out of bed, and soon he won’t need a tube that keeps his chest from filling with water and blood, and soon he’ll be able to talk without stumbling over his words. Soon.

It was all he could ever offer. To either of them. And even that was a partial lie, because he had no idea how much it was true.

No doubt Tristan was echoing Garret’s thoughts if the twitch in his face was anything to say about it, but again, the ability to speak a long string of words, again, was still a work in progress. Garret saved him the trouble of trying by sticking another spoonful of oatmeal in his mouth before he could protest. Tristan swallowed and pursed his mouth firmly closed as Garret tried to keep getting food into his system.

“C’mon, Tristan. Just get through it bowl,” Garret sighed and Tristan’s glower deepened. “Alright, I get that it’s shitty food, but it’s easy for you to process and super nutritional so please just eat it.” He broke eye contact and looked away. “Please? For your partner?”

“N— ne,” He mumbled and Garret smiled in spite of himself. He more he spoke the more hope it gave them both that he’d recover. Even if he couldn’t use one of his arms ever again, communication was a milestone. But he needed to eat.

“I’m really not kidding. I can and I will pry your mouth open if you don’t cooperate, Grace told me to get you to eat something by any means possible.”

Tristan growled at him and opened his mouth again, letting Garret continue to spoon feed him.

“Thank you.”

“F— Fu—Fuck—” Tristan shook his head and closed his eyes in frustration before he whispered something that Garret couldn’t understand but could figure out the connotation of pretty quickly.

“That works too.”

Nights were the worst.

Pain pain pain pain pain pain pain. Tristan shut his eyes tightly. Five days since he woke up and he was deeply regretting the decision. His ribs were broken in six places and cracked in countless others, his right lung had been punctured and was still struggling to function. His legs... well. Doctor Grace was likely correct in assuming there was too much damage to walk again; he wasn’t even sitting up and the pain of their were existence it was too much.

At least in the day Garret was awake.

At least he’s allowed in during the night.

Garret. He was sleeping in the chair beside him, chest to the back of it for some support, holding what Tristan knew was his left hand. It didn’t help. He couldn’t grip back. He couldn’t feel Garret’s hand in his. He couldn’t feel anything after the pinching in his shoulder.

Nights were the worst because they made a pit of despair rise up inside of him, because he was a soldier and he needed to fight and he wanted to move and he couldn’t even breathe and he’d never be able to ever again, and at night there wasn’t Garret’s whispered promise of a someday, someday, someday to keep his mind off of the helplessness and the pain and the gut wrenching fact that someday might never come, and he could be trapped in something little more than a corpse. Forever.

“Tristan?” Garret muttered and yawned. “You’re crying again.”

He was. That was probably why it was even harder than normal to breathe. He tried to take a deeper breath, but that only made his throat burn and he coughed harshly, the pipe travelling into his nearly collapsed lung grating against his sides, and it hurt, everything hurt, why couldn’t he just stop crying?

“What’s wrong?” Garret asked once the coughing subsided and he was back to trying to stifle his tears. He wanted to tell Garret everything swimming around in his head, about how he felt trapped in a body that was no longer designed for him, how much everything hurt, how scared he was that he would never feel whole again. But he couldn’t. There was no way his mouth would cooperate for that long. So he just shook his head and hoped that the pain would go away for long enough for him to sleep.

He just wanted to sleep until the someday that Garret promised. The someday that could never come.

Garret brought Tristan’s limp hand to his lips for a second before lowering it again. “Hurts?” Tristan nodded and Garret sighed. He set the hand down and absentmindedly ran a hand through Tristan’s hair, trying not to irritate the scabs and stitches over his head. “Is this helping?”

Nothing helps. Tristan couldn’t stop crying. Garret shushed him and continued to stay by his bedside, whispering of promised somedays that Tristan felt would never ever come to pass.

“The pain isn’t forever,” Neither of us know that. “Just... you can get through this. We’ll go one day at a time.” None of these days are getting better. “For now try for some sleep tonight, okay?” I wish I had never woken up.

I wish you hadn’t pulled me out of the chapel.

Garret had settled into a schedule. Wake up next to Tristan. Fight him through a bowl of oatmeal before handing his care to Grace. Go over to the building with the hatchlings, check on Ember and share a breakfast with her and usually Jade or Wes. Eat lunch around noon before heading back to the infirmary to fight through another bowl of oatmeal. Sometimes stay for another hour, but usually go back to Ember. At eight, return to the infirmary and spend the night.

Which was why it was so surprising to be woken at 500 before the sun had risen.

From screaming.

Garret’s head shot up as he heard it, gravelly and fractured and wrong, Tristan’s hand clenching down on his as he writhed. He hadn’t been able to move so much ever since he woke up, and Garret could tell that it was just causing him even more pain. The heart monitor was beeping frantically as Tristan’s scream quieted into ragged gasps.

“Ko—” Tristan fought out before he inhaled sharply to let out a groan. “K—”

Garret knelt beside him, energy pouring into his body with nothing to put it towards, he couldn’t help, he didn’t know what was wrong, his lungs could be collapsing and he wouldn’t be able to stop it. He clenched Tristan’s hand back and tried to stop his struggles from ripping anything out, but he didn’t know what else to do. Grace had to have been alerted, that much he knew, but she wasn’t there and Tristan was in agony and Garret didn’t know what to do. Was he dying? Tristan couldn’t die now, not after he woke up...

The curtain was pulled aside and the Doctor pushed Garret away, speaking to a frantic Tristan in a low voice and trying to get an assessment while he tried to thrash and move to a position where everything hurt less. Garret closed his eyes and looked away, halfway wishing that he couldn’t hear anything because then he wouldn’t have to hear what could be his partner dying.

His screaming quieted and the heart monitor evened out before Garret opened his eyes. Doctor Grace took the syringe out of the IV drip and sighed, running a hand over her face before laughing to herself.

“Is he...” Garret whispered and looked down at his partner, eyes cloudy but at least no longer in pain. “Is he alright?”

“This boy has angels looking out for him,” She whispered to herself before she made eye contact with Garret. She offered him a smile, something that she hadn’t done ever since he had returned. “He can feel his arm again.”

Something that Tristan learned within five minutes of waking up was that being able to feel his arm was very different from being able to use it.

Even with painkillers running through his system it hurt, every twitch he forced sending electrical pain up to his shoulder. When Garret took his hand again he could barely keep the hiss in his throat. He tried to squeeze back, but his hand still felt weak and stiff and painful. Like whatever signals it sent back to his brain had been put through a butcher’s shop.

And being on painkillers. Not fun.

Any ability to speak in any language had been stripped from him. He had been able to get staple words and phrases out. “Yes” and “No” and “Thanks” the occasional “Fuck you”. And no matter how little that was, he could listen to Garret talk, and he spoke enough for the both of them. But the painkillers blunted everything, pain, sight, and thoughts included. He could barely piece together his thoughts, and he definitely couldn’t formulate them into any words, let alone English. He couldn’t even understand Garret for the most part.

He was completely isolated.

The first day was the same, just quieter. He didn’t offer any resistance when Garret spoon fed him his meals that made him want to vomit. Garret made noises that Tristan knew were words and could sometimes understand individually, but he stopped speaking as much when he realized that Tristan couldn’t process anything. Tristan wished that he would keep talking. His voice was beautiful.

When he woke up on the second day, he was gone. Doctor Grace was in and out, hooking up another IV in his chest before saying a quick explanation that he couldn’t understand. He kept waiting for Garret to show up with a smile, but the day passed and he didn’t come. Nor did he come the next day, or the day after that. When Grace started to force his arm to work while still under the influence of painkillers he wasn’t there to try and make it easier, nor was he there when a nightmare of the collapse made him wake up gasping, still immobile and defenseless. He wasn’t there to tell him that the people he saw during the night weren’t real.

Tristan didn’t ask what happened. He was too afraid.

“I need to stay with the hatchlings and I don’t want Wes to go alone," He said. “Should just be getting into the IT rooms, simple recon,” He said. “Four hours tops,” He said. Garret rubbed his eyes as he and Wes drove into the Chapterhouse to be met with a highly anxious Ember. She hugged him before he could even get out of his seat.

“Riley’s already told me what happened, are you hurt?” She asked.

“Nothing too bad. I wasn’t the one who managed to nearly blow up the IT room and has an electrical burn over his chest and left arm,” Garret raised his voice and glared at Wes, who shrugged unapologetically and then winced. He had, surprisingly, been near completely silent on the eight hour trip back, and didn’t seem like he was going to talk now that they were back on semi-safe grounds. He just nodded at the two of them and walked towards the building that housed them. Probably to assure Riley that he was still alive and alright for the most part.

Garret had more important thing to focus on.

It had been three days since he last saw Tristan.

Ember went with him, holding his hand in her own for some small comfort as they entered the infirmary. Every soldier that was still in the infirmary had a separation curtain, but there was an open one where Angelo was sitting up in bed with a somewhat vacant expression. He flipped off Garret when he passed and Garret smiled back before he found Tristan’s bed.

“I’ll— uh...” Ember pursed her lips before she kissed him gently and gave him a reassuring smile. “I’ll meet you back at our compound.” Garret nodded. No doubt that it would be best for him and Tristan to be alone.

“Hi, Tristan,” Garret said as he pulled the curtain aside. Tristan turned his head towards Garret and smiled, raising his right arm slightly in greeting. He seemed better, but still obviously high on painkillers. Talking wasn’t going to be a possibility, then.

“I missed you,” Garret whispered. He took Tristan’s hand, which caused him to hiss slightly from the pain. Garret dropped it and sat down. “I was on a mission to a Talon base. We got what we needed and destroyed the servers... it felt like something for a spy rather than a soldier, but I’m adapting. You probably would have done better. You’re— You were—” The words felt bitter in Garret’s mouth and he shut himself down. Tristan looked at him, blue eyes glassy and not understanding a word.

“You’ll get better once you’re off painkillers. It’ll get easier.”

It did. Kind of.

It was obvious that Tristan was still in pain, every movement of his right arm would cause an unwilling whimper to escape his throat, his breathing became more shallow, and he’d twitch fitfully in his sleep. But he knew what was going on. He’d reply when Garret spoke, usually without speech but occasionally with a painful word dragged out of his unwilling mouth. After another week he exchanged a plaster cast for a cast brace and was struggling through another bowl of oatmeal. Except this time, the largest issue was that he wanted to smash the bowl and all of its contents onto Garret face.

“Fuhin’ o— oat... fuck.” Tristan glared at the bowl as if it had personally offended him and then looked at Garret beseechingly.

“I would get you different food if I could, Tristan. But alas, I’m not the medic in charge of you. Grace is. Take it up with her.”

Tristan sighed and stabbed the spoon into the paste, looking ready to throw up and he tried to force it into his mouth. It was slow, and it was painful, and Garret had needed to hold up Tristan’s right hand multiple times because it decided to stop working, but he was getting somewhere.

Tristan dropped his spoon and closed his eyes tightly, trying to swear and tripping over the words. Garret could sense the tears right before they came and considered looking away. He hated when Tristan cried, especially now that he couldn’t ever explain why. He took the bowl out of his partner’s hands and moved from the chair to sit on the edge of the bed. Tristan was still trying to stop the tears dripping town his face. Garret sighed and put his arm around his partner’s shoulders, holding him tight.

They could start again the next day.

It was another week before Tristan was cleared to leave the infirmary. It took two hours for Doctor Grace to get him ready due to taking out the IVs and tube from his chest, giving him his physical therapy packet, and then adjusting a wheelchair so he could properly use it.

Wheelchair.

Grace said that it would hopefully be temporary, that maybe in a few months he wouldn’t need to use it. But Garret could tell that she said it mostly for Tristan’s sake. It would hopefully be temporary. At he moment it was still a struggle to move it by himself, so Garret was stayed by his side as he made his way across the stone.

“S’allrigh’, Arreh— Car—” Tristan shook his head and gave a slight smile to hide the frustration rolling off of him in waves. Garret cursed his own name for a moment, the ‘G’ had always been difficult to pronounce for Tristan. Now it was as good as impossible. “S’alrigh’. I’m... well.”

Garret offered a small smirk and flick his forehead. “‘Well’. Pretentious bastard.”

“Fffuck. You. C— Kh— Fuck. Jarret,” Tristan wheeled himself onward with determination. It was still unbelievably slow. Garret narrowly avoided giving into the temptation to push the wheelchair himself multiple times as they made their way to the isolated complex where the rogue dragons were sleeping. And Tristan— as he wouldn’t be able to climb the stairs to his room— was sharing a room.

“It’s just like old times, huh?” Garret whispered almost to himself. “I... I miss it, sometimes. The chapterhouse, the training, even the shitty meals that I still don’t trust.” Tristan snorted a bit and nodded. Garret pursed his lips. “You.” Mostly you.

That made them both pause, Tristan’s scarred, shaking hands gripping the wheels.

“Y... Yeh. I miss you. misssst. Mis— missed.” Tristan cleared his throat and started over. “I missed you, too.”

He smiled to himself softly, but it was more real than anything Garret had seen for a while. It was proud, and Garret felt a rush of pride and happiness for his partner to match it. It was his first full sentence in days, and it might have been his first sentence that didn’t have any mistakes.

He was breathing by himself. He wasn’t bedridden. He was speaking. It was a start.

A/N: I think there will be more later, but until then, have this angst wagon! At least he can speak, right? And, a note on disability: I am well aware that a lot of Tristan’s thoughts are super narrow minded. I am aware that it’s unhealthy to think like that. I did this on purpose. He’s used to having a working body. This would be a huge adjustment period for him and would take a lot of time to accept. Thank you for your understanding.

[flyingupward]

@everstride​ said: he cradles her in his arms, her body submerged in his lap as his fingers stroke down the frame of her face, sight drifting over curls and porcelain features before he’s leaning down, placing a gentle kiss to her forehead, mouth lingering before he’s pulling back. “you mean more to me than you know.”

       she lets him pull her in, RELAXES into him that much. she lets herself have this one precious moment with him. she’s not sure what’s possessed him to do this, to open himself up in this way, but it’s been so long since she’s been this close to him, and it feels... comforting. the warmth of his body, his familiar smell, the sense of having THE PERSON YOU LOVE close, hearing their heartbeat close by, it was all nice, but the fact is, especially given the day’s events, she isn’t sure what to make of it all.

       ❝ mmm... is that why you were throwing A TEMPER TANTRUM at hearst earlier today ? he’s dangerous, seth, and much as i... appreciate the intention at play, this particular beast will require a much more deft touch to tame. ❞ a small, frustrated sigh, the next part muttered almost to herself. ❝ reckless bravado isn’t always the answer, no matter how much the men in this town seem to THINK it is. ❞

[flyingupward]

@everstride​ said: He could spot her in a crowd from miles away, even if his attention was transfixed elsewhere; he’d be drawn to her in the end, no matter what. As he is now, feeling something ripple through his own body, a lump swallowed after bopping as he watches her stride. The direction gives him an indication for what seems to drag her face to the ground — but there’s something else, and the guilt inside eats away as his feet carry him blindly towards her. It’s when she briefly stops, her eyes locked with his that Seth’s unable to hold himself back, movements quick, gentle, fingers loose around her elbow as he guides her from the centre, from prying eyes or ears. He doesn’t look back, or up. Afraid to see a familiar face staring back, knowing all too well. He pulls Alma far, stopping once he’s sure they’re alone. Hidden away and out of sight. He turns to her, lips slowly parting to speak before he’s falling short, a hand lifting to the back of her head as he pulls her into his chest. “Alma.”

       her mind is spinning, heart ROARING in her ears. she hates to think it, but perhaps both hearst and ellsworth were right, perhaps she’d been too reckless, too overindulgent, too eager to prove to her husband that she didn’t need him to take care of her, to hearst that she was more than capable of managing on her own. that and she needed to keep busy, needed to keep moving so she didn’t have to face the pain that stillness brought. if she stops, she has to face what she’s lost, and that isn’t an option right now. that hurts too much.

       but then HE’S THERE, right in front of her: a symbol of everything she’s grieving right now. she wants more than anything to run to him, to throw her arms around him and hold him close, beg him to just remind her that at least he’s still there, still alive, that that’s something, to tell her that he’ll protect her ( and god, doesn’t she hate herself for that thought ). she stares at him for a moment, preparing to tear herself away, when all of a sudden, he’s pulling her away and then against him.

       she INHALES sharply, freezing for a moment as the familiar smell and feel of him overwhelms her. oh, she needs this. she needs this so much. a small sob falls unbidden from between her lips and she wraps her arms around him in turn. she nuzzles close against his chest and cries, long and hard, until she can’t cry anymore. then, embarrassed, she pulls away, rubbing at now reddened orbs and blinking slowly up at him. ❝ i APOLOGIZE, mr. bullock. ❞ soft voice has a bit of a scratch to it, roughened by the heavy sobs. ❝ i did not mean to make such a horrendous scene. ❞

[flyingupward]

@everstride​ said: “Marry me.” Out of breath, sweat clad and covered in crimson from the scorching heat. Already on both of his knees, taking her hands in his own. “Forget him. Forget them all. Marry me.” Picking his finest moment, cutting it too short. She was to be wed to Ellsworth, a good suitor — for both Alma, Sofia. But the selfish tendencies inside override, leaving the vow hed made to go make another. “If I am to be too late, then I must get it all out. For I have never felt such a way for anyone.” Love made you do crazy spontaneous things.

       most brides wear white on their wedding day, but NOT ALMA GARRET, oh no. not this time, at least. no, this time, she’s adorned in blue velvet and gold, lilacs pinned into her hair, mostly because sofia had mentioned that she liked them. her stomach is in knots as the time draws nearer, a sense of dread washing of her, and with it, a sense of guilt. ellsworth is a good man. he will be a good father to sofia and the baby, and she could not ask for a KINDER man to spend a life with. but she doesn’t love him. no, her heart lies firmly with another: the father of her child, a man she cannot have. she swore after brom she would never marry again unless it was for love, and yet, her decisions have brought her here.

       she hears the door open and she STANDS, expecting it to be trixie telling her that it’s time, but it’s not. it’s him. it’s him and she can hardly hear him through the roaring of the blood in her ears. he’s asking... good god, is he seriously asking this NOW ? of all times ? asking this when he knows as well as she does that it’s impossible ? ❝ mr. bullock, you... you can’t seriously be asking me... ❞ and yet her hands tighten in his, her body betraying what her lips don’t dare to say. 

       she takes in a long, deep breath, one hand going to rest over her stomach, as if to PROTECT the life growing there from the anguish also flourishing within her. ❝ i was sat here, praying like i haven’t since i was a girl, imagining you doing this very thing. i didn’t think in a million years you would actually... because we can’t. you... made it very clear that you don’t want to subject mrs. bullock and your son to what us being together would entail and i... i understand that. i have done my best to MAKE MY PEACE with it. what’s changed ? why now ? ❞

[flyingupward]

@everstride​ said: "tell me, alma... i need t'hear you say it." from seth bc i live 2 torture

       part of her should have been EXPECTING THIS. she’s known that after her meeting with sol, it was only a matter of time before he knew, but she has to admit to a certain bittersweet surprise that he’s actually here ( though the balance tips certainly in the direction of bitter as he starts tossing out demands ). her eyes flash, darting up to meet his, and for a moment she’s distracted, wondering if the 'PROBLEM’ he’s come to discuss will arrive with his eyes or hers. she blinks and holds her head up high, trying to keep the mask in place. it’s what she ought to do, what would be right, what she’s promised, for the sake of so many others aside from herself, she would do, and yet... and yet he’s looking at her with those eyes that strip all of that away and leave her feeling bare before him. 

       ❝ i... the last thing i want to do is lie to you, mr. bullock, but some words, once spoken aloud, change a life so DRASTICALLY you wonder if perhaps you shouldn’t have spoken them in the first place. ❞ her hand, achingly slowly and with painful gentleness, brushes against his, just fingers brushing against fingers, longing to grasp fully and never let go. ❝ should you wish to avoid responsibility, perhaps it would be better if i denied your request and remained silent on the subject. ❞

[flyingupward]

@everstride​ said: hands come to cup alma’s cheeks, leaning down to gently press his mouth to her forehead before resting his own against hers. “no matter how hard i try, can’t seem… to get you outta my head.” a pause, unsure whether to speak. “my heart. every part of you still with me.”

       she isn’t sure what to make of this. she still loves him, she always will, but she’d done her best to convince herself to move on. all this time, she thought he had. now, here he is, after all this time, confessing... what ? ❝ WHAT IS THIS, seth ? ❞ she makes no move to step away. she likes the closeness. that doesn’t mean she’s not suspicious of it. ❝ what... why are you telling me this ? why NOW ? ❞

[flyingupward]

@amazonluthor​ said: ✐ for alma or callie?

       it’s not that alma doesn’t trust lillian. it’s more that she herself doesn’t want to deal with her father’s particular brand of... everything. having him near sofia once had been more than enough for her, and after the threats he’d made against her the last time they’d seen each other, she has NO INTEREST in hearing him out. so she makes quick work of slamming the door in his face, but she’s sure the other woman has questions. and, as expected, one of the first things she’s greeted with is lillian’s questioning gaze. a sigh falls from her parted lips and, not for the first time, she internally curses her father for being everything he is. ❝ we all create STORIES to protect ourselves, ❞ is what she offers as an explanation. ❝ one of mine is that my father is dead. because he is to me. ❞

[flyingupward]

@everstride​ said: There’s a glow to him like never before; at least one that he hasn’t so much as felt in decades. It was like coming up for a fresh of breath air, the first in a long, long time. The first breath of air after a long dreary winter. It’s all because of her, it was always because of her. Albeit, he never thought he’d see the sight of her; had merely thought he was dreaming—hallucinating all over again that Alma Ellsworth was in his presence. Now he stands before her, holding her close, hand in hand, the music blasting and all he can see, hear and feel is her, her, her. The room, the people; it was all a blur, just the two of them together again.

He can feel himself leaning in, lifting up the hand resided at her hip to gently caress her cheek, fingers lifting to her curls that he barely grazes. He wants to kiss her, wants to feel alive for the first time again. He’s about to say fuck it, about to lean in and feel her lips against his own— until there’s a tug at his side, the presence of a small child; Florence, his youngest. His grip on Alma’s hand tightens, his ears ringing, pulse pounding as he looks to the young girl who’s features mimic his own far too much, looking more like him than his own son did at times. He’s hesitant to let Alma go, squeezing her hand again, thumb brushing over her knuckles before he reluctantly lets go, leaning down to pick Florence up and situate her on his hip, a smile blooming over his face. “Now you know better than to interrupt, little lady.” The little girl grins, arms wrapping round Seth’s neck and burying her face into his neck. He casts a glance to Alma, something almost bittersweet, taking him back far too long ago; to a much younger Sofia, to a much younger them. “Florence, I’d like you to meet… the incredibly special, Mrs Alma Ellsworth.” Her head turns, poking round to give Alma a small smile. “And Mrs Ellsworth, this here is my youngest, Florence. She’s… a little more codependent after the loss of her mother.”

       she’s utterly lost in him. seeing him has been like coming alive again. after the overwhelming half life of new york, worth it, of course, for sofia’s sake, but with the ever present siren SONG OF DEADWOOD calling her back, even just seeing him is like taking a breath of air after starting to drown. and the electricity between them is palpable as always. even after all this time, they can’t seem to stay away from each other, like moths to a flame. as the dance brings her into his arms, they linger far longer than they’re supposed to. he leans in CLOSER, and her eyes begin to flicker shut as she anticipates the feeling of his lips on hers, of that dream that had drawn its first breath now taking its first steps.

       then a little voice speaks.

       at first, she doesn’t even consider it could be speaking to seth. HE DOESN’T HAVE CHILDREN. he can’t. but then it hits her. he does. he has a few actually. and damn, if that doesn’t punch her in the gut. it’s a loss she hasn’t felt in a while: the loss of their baby, but it’s all alma can do to swallow the tears and smile at the girl as brightly as she can, to focus on florence and not the specter of a child that could have been. she clears her throat ❝ hello florence. it’s so very nice to meet you. has ANYONE ever told you you have beautiful eyes ? just like your father’s. ❞