#and wild stood there horrified for a few seconds before immediately asking him to repeat himself

[merriclo]

concept: time picking up a slight country accent from malon

[yandere-sins]

hello!! may i request prompt 23 “I’m so happy you finally wanted to take a picture with me! They can go right next to all of the ones of you sleeping.” with deku? thank you!💓

Of course!! That one works so well for Deku, thanks for requesting :D I decided for a bit less scary yan this time hahaha Enjoy!

Photos - “I’m so happy you finally wanted to take a picture with me! They can go right next to all of the ones of you sleeping.” 

»»———————— ♡ ————————««   

At first, you had been very nervous when you were invited to the get-together by your new college class. Who knew what kind of weird strangers you were sharing the lessons with, so did you really want to go on a weekend hike with them? There were enough horrifying stories on the internet about people getting lost or murdered, which didn’t give you the courage to roll with it.

Even if you thought nature was great, conquering it with a bunch of strangers you only met a week before, probably wouldn’t be the greatest idea of your life. But you didn’t want to be the only one to sit it out and have the other’s form friendships and connections while you were at home being unproductive. Even less you wanted to regret your decision later. This was college! You were all young adults! It was time to have fun and be merry!

That’s why you agreed to it.

And honestly? It was better than expected. Everyone seemed very careful on the first day to not step on each other’s foot. Still, by the end of it, people were joking around and laughing about stories. You quickly made connections with some boys and girls when you were grouped up with them to collect firewood for the great campfire that was going to burn on the first night of your hike. They all seemed friendly and welcoming, and you had a lot of fun with them.

Very quickly, over the next few days, you found out about good sheep and bad sheep in the group. It was simply impossible for everyone to get along, but you were glad that others had your back, making you forget about the negativity some people spread around. Before you knew it, it was already Sunday, and though you laughed at the few who very quickly got drunk and made out, you were glad for the friends you had gathered around you.

So much so that when someone suggested taking pictures together on the last night, you jumped onto the idea, running around to make additional memories with all the friends you made. It was already getting pretty late, some returning to their tents to rest up for the night (and some to have extra fun with students they got along too well, in your opinion), so you hurried to catch everyone before they went to bed. You wouldn’t see them in the morning where you’d go your separate ways again, so it had to be before that.

“Izuku!” you called out as you ran up to your new friend, immediately slowing down as you saw he was busy talking to someone else. But without a second of hesitation in him, he turned to you, smiling widely. You apologized for the interruption, and Izuku quickly wrapped up his conversation to dedicate himself to you.

“What’s up?” he grinned, and you immediately felt at ease, having feared you might have come off as rude. The last thing you wanted was to upset him since he had been your strong pillar this weekend. Talking to him was so easy and comfortable; you two had stayed up for hours talking at night and then continued while you were hiking. Even walking in silence side by side had been nothing less but comfortable, and you were glad that you caught him one last time before the end of the get-together. Not that you feared you two would lose sight of each other afterwards. However, not knowing how busy your lives would be once the studies became serious, you didn’t want to miss having something to remember your time by.

“Someone suggested making pictures with each other, and I just had to come and ask you!”

Immediately, you saw his posture straighten, smile only widening at your suggestion, while you fiddled with your phone. Who knows why, but you had been scared he would say no, which you’d have to accept, but would regret either way. Perhaps, there were budding feelings you had for him that you denied so far, and that’s why it would have hurt so much to be rejected. But you breathed a sigh of relief when he replied with a chipper, “That’s a great idea!”

You two quickly got into position as you turned on your phone’s face camera. Boldly, Izuku put his arm around your hips as if you two had been friends forever. You still remembered how timid he had been at first, but you quickly came to admire him for his courage and that he would stand up for you and your friends when you were confronted with one of the rotten eggs of the group. It truly made him look like a hero, his true colors showing, and you admired him for his strength yet modesty.

“Say cheese!” you chanted, both of you flashing your biggest smile before the camera went off. “Oh, that’s cute,” you beamed as you gave the photo a quick look to make sure it came out alright. “Let’s take another one,” Izuku suggested, grinning at you, both of you feeling giddy.

Quickly, you got back into position, leaning into his side and readying your camera. However, when you snapped the picture, you felt him hunch over and witnessed in the camera as his lips laid down against your cheek. Stunned, you looked on as the picture disappeared, Izuku’s gaze firmly stuck on you as you heard him whisper, “Another one?”

Reaching up to touch your cheek, you leaned away, and his hold around your waist loosened, giving you space. “Was that too much?” he asked, his shoulders sinking while he looked at you apologetically. “I didn’t mean to--”

“No!” you were quick to wave it off. “I- I was just surprised.”

“Oh...”

For a moment, you two stood there like ordered and not picked up before you could muster a single chuckle, shaking your head. Next thing you knew, both of you burst out into laughs and giggles. Yes, it was just like that with Izuku. It was easy. It made you feel at peace. As if you had known him forever, even though it had only been this last weekend. You had probably told him more about you than even your parents knew, and you felt like he had been very open about his past and present as well.

“You don’t have to keep that picture if you don’t want to, but would you mind sending them to me?”

That wasn’t a question he had to ask twice, as you quickly nodded, typing away a message with the photos attached to him. He was the first chat that popped up in your log, your conversations going way beyond mouth to mouth and having continued in your messages, so it was a matter of seconds until you had sent the files over. “It wasn’t uncomfortable...” you mumbled as you saw the picture of him kissing your cheek once more.

“Hm?” he replied, seemingly not having caught your small voice. “Oh, nothing!” you quickly brushed it off, suddenly losing the courage to repeat it and reveal some more how you felt.

Izuku didn’t probe further, nice enough to give you space in the matter, instead fishing for his phone, which was buzzing as it received your texts. “Ah, it’s so cute,” he laughed as he opened the pictures, a tinge of red falling over his cheeks. “I’m glad,” you mumbled, unable to keep the smile away from your face as you saw him so happy. Heat rose to your own face as well, and some of the buds in your stomach were blooming up as your fantasy ran wild. Perhaps this was the start of something special. And you were hopeful that you both felt the same way.

“It’s perfect for the collection,” he sighed, satisfied.

“Collection?” you asked, wondering if you had missed something. Did the group gather pictures to make a collection out of them?

“Yes!” Izuku peeked up, shining brightly. Your prince charming always shone brighter than the sun, in your opinion, but he managed to really string you along with his enthusiasm, making you feel excited as well. “I’m so happy you finally wanted to take a picture with me! They can go right next to all of the ones of you sleeping. Although...”

Wait. Sleeping? Pictures of you?

“This one is special, I’ll have to frame it.”

“What do you--”

You wanted to ask him about it when Izuku turned around, humming happily as he walked off, too deep in thought to even say ‘good night’ to you. You looked after him, flabbergasted, trying to make sense out of what he said. What pictures? What did he mean?

Days later, you found out exactly what Izuku had been talking about at this bizarre end of the trip you two had taken.

When he sent you a picture back, labeling it, “Perfect, isn’t it?”

Zooming in, you saw what must have been hundreds, if not thousands of pictures stuck to a wall, every one of them showing you. Some of you at your old school, some where you were out with your friends, some of you at home, in bed, getting dressed... And in the middle of it all, framed and polished, was the one where he kissed you, red marker scribbles on the glass, saying,

My Darling ♥

[pastelwitchling]

               Michael sighed as he was greeted with yet another voicemail. He put his phone down, his eyes on the screen, Alex’s name staring back at him.

               “Come on, Private,” he muttered, dialing again. “Pick up.”

               But Alex wouldn’t. Michael had spent all day calling him, and all day, his attempts were ignored. He looked out his truck window at the Long farmhouse, and his shoulders slumped. When he’d decided to keep looking into his past, to find out more, he immediately thought of the blue-haired historian. The man had given Michael and Alex a chest of newspapers and small scraps of information that had helped them a lot with their investigations.

And when Michael decided he could come take another look – knowing what he knew now about his mother, maybe there was something he would catch in the documents that he hadn’t before – he’d thought of Alex. It felt weird being here without him, and Michael found himself wishing he’d see Alex the second he stepped out.

               He pocketed his phone, stepped out of the truck, and made his way to the front door. He’d waited until he’d spotted Wyatt at the Wild Pony before trying to come back here. He didn’t feel like causing trouble today, not if it meant a delay in getting the information he needed. And, if he was being honest, he had this little fear that Forrest might tell Alex what had happened if he tried to pick another fight. Michael remembered the last time Alex had come to talk to Sheriff Valenti and found Michael in a cell. The look on his face, the way he smiled kindly despite the concern in his eyes and his unwillingness to come near the bars. It was because of him that Sheriff Valenti had let Michael go, and Michael had seen how much it had costed Alex to plead anything of anyone. He thought in that moment that he would’ve rather died than see his airman do that again.

               Michael took a deep breath. What would Alex do? he thought. Alex would steady himself, for one, and would probably keep the insults to a minimum, and would be polite but also firm in what he wanted. Michael knocked, bracing himself.

               He opened his mouth as the door swung open, but his breath quickly caught in his throat, his words lost and forgotten as a startled Alex stood before him.

               The airman’s hair was damp, a small towel around his neck, he was dressed in a sweater and jeans, and Michael briefly noted some blue and orange splashes of something that looked like paint along his neck, collarbone, and fingers.

               “Guerin?” Alex blinked, drying his hair with the towel. “Hey. What’re you doing here?”

               “A-Alex,” Michael stammered, and very nearly looked around to make sure he hadn’t subconsciously drove to Alex’s house instead. He hadn’t. Alex was just here, in Forrest’s house. Wet.

               “Uh – hang on, just,” he looked over his shoulder and called, “Forrest!”

               “Yeah?”

               “Guerin’s here to see you.”

               “Who?”

               Alex hummed. “Alien Guy!”

               “Oh!” Forrest laughed, and Alex seemed unable to help but smile himself at the sound. “Give me a sec!”

               Michael frowned. The way Alex and Forrest spoke, as if they were… living together or something. What the hell was happening?

               “Did you… shower?”

               “Hm?” Alex frowned, then seemed to remember that his hair was soaked, and he chuckled shyly. “Yeah. I kind of had to. It was a messy morning.”

               Michael stared. “Messy.”

               “Yeah.”

               “I’ve been calling you.”

               “Have you?” Alex checked his pockets. When they came up empty, he sighed, his eyes closed. “I must’ve left my phone in the barn.”

               “In the barn.”

               “That’s what I said, yeah. We were playing paintball.”

               “Paintball.”

               “Are you just going to repeat everything I say?” he laughed. His cheeks were flushed, his eyes twinkling in a way Michael hadn’t seen in too long.

               It took Michael a second to find the strength to say the words, but when they finally came out, they were quieter than he had expected them to be. “You and Forrest are dating?”

               Alex scratched the back of his head. His cheeks turned a darker shade of red, his smile shy. “First date, actually.”

               “Yeah?” he heard himself respond from far away, his body suddenly numb. Alex was dating someone? His Alex was… with someone else? “How was it?”

               “Uh,” he looked down, “still going on actually. We’re supposed to have lunch soon. Forrest is cooking.”

               He couldn’t look away from Alex’s face, the airman’s brows furrowing slightly as his expression changed from shy amusement to confusion very quickly. Alex was acting as if it was the most natural thing in the world that he would be here, as if Michael was crazy for being horrified by it. Did Michael’s expression reveal his true feelings and thoughts? That he wished the ground would open and swallow him up? That he couldn’t understand how Alex had moved on at all, let alone with Forrest.

               Then Michael thought of that day, a few weeks ago now, when Alex had subtly asked about Forrest, and Michael had worried that Alex was getting jealous. Now, he realized the airman had never been asking for Michael’s sake, but for his own. Michael very nearly stepped back, but resisted the urge at the last second. The idea that Alex had had his sights set on Forrest since then, had been looking to move on….

               “You know,” Alex said, his smile soft and his voice even softer, “you were right.”

               Michael swallowed the lump in his throat, forcing himself to meet Alex’s eyes. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen the airman so hopeful. “I was?”

               “Yeah.” He shrugged. “We really weren’t good for each other.” He huffed a chuckle that Michael heard as filled with relief, and it did something to his heart that terrified him. “I mean, I don’t know if I’m good for Forrest, but… it feels like… moving forward. You know?”

               Michael thought of his words to Alex that day. The way Alex had all but pleaded with him to leave Roswell with him. And the look in his glassy eyes when Michael had refused. There was never any shock, never disappointment in Michael, just resignation. As if Alex had known that even the cowboy would leave him behind. That even Michael would become someone he was meant to chase after, to keep up with, but never to have or be loved by.

“I…” Michael tried, but didn’t get much further. What would he have said anyway? He’d known of the misery Alex had suffered, known of the self-doubt, and yet he’d never so much as reassured Alex that he was a good man. Alex had told him that he blamed himself, and Michael just let him. No wonder Alex had moved on so quickly; he must’ve felt like there’d never been anyone holding onto him in the first place.

“Hey,” Alex frowned, “are you feeling okay? You look pale.”

“J-just – uh – surprised,” he managed, stepping back. “Y-you should get back inside. You go out with wet hair, you’ll – you’ll get a headache.”

Alex didn’t move from where he stood. “But didn’t you come to talk to Forrest?”

As Michael took another step, he realized Alex might just start following him, and he found himself hoping for it. But just as Alex took a step off the front porch, Forrest called from inside –

“Sorry, sorry, I’m coming!”

Alex stopped and looked over his shoulder. He seemed to realize then what he’d almost been about to do, and his frown deepened, as if finally waking from a trance. He moved back to the doorframe, as if assured he’d be safe from Michael’s influence there.

Michael swallowed down his disappointment and anger, his sudden desire to grab Alex by the arm and take him with him, and he turned and left.

Earlier, he’d been hoping for nothing more than for Alex to be here. Now, he would’ve given anything for him not to be.

[sad-sweet-cowboah]

It Started With A Skeleton

The final commission! @writingandsins asked for Arthur beginning to fall for an archaeologist!reader. I wrote it in a way to seem like a random encounter like in the game. Thank you for being patient with me and enjoy!

The bright sun beamed down in between the thick green leaves, brightening up spots of the forest floor. Smoothing out the rolled paper upon the rock in front of you. The familiar shape of New Hanover was the only thing you recognized as you tried to make heads or tail of this map. It seemed hastily drawn, ink spots scattered here and there. Were they marking specific locations, or was it just the carelessness of the maker?

You sighed in frustration, standing up straight to closer observe your surroundings. You’d just come from Annesburg, your pockets three dollars lighter for having to purchase the map from some smooth talker outside of the gunsmith. He’d mentioned an ancient burial site nearby, and offered to share the location. Excitement overtaking you, you’d quickly agreed and paid the man. After handing you the map and pointing you west, you mounted your horse and began to head out into the forest. An hour had passed, and with vague instructions and no knowledge of the pathways, you’d stopped to try and regain your bearings.

Though now, it seemed as if he was just making a fool of you.

You groaned, swearing out loud and stomping over to your horse, who stopped grazing to look at you with interest. “Sorry boy, gotta head back.”

“You alright, miss?” a voice called from behind you.

A jolt of surprise shot through you, quickly erasing the assumption of you being alone out here. You hadn’t heard anyone coming by. Turning around, a man on horseback appeared in your view. He was standing just a few yards away, stopped in the middle of the path. The sun caught the barrel of a rifle along his back, glinting brightly. Underneath the worn black hat, his face showed slight concern.

“I’m fine,” you answered, albeit somewhat warily. “Just a little lost is all.”

“Where are ya tryin’ to go?” he asked, his drawl strong unlike the folks from around here.

“I…” you hesitated, wondering if it was a good idea to share this information, lest he decided to find it before you and plunder to his heart’s content. However, this forest proved larger and more complex than you expected, and you weren’t even sure how to find your way back to civilization. “Yes, actually! There’s supposedly an ancient burial around ‘round here somewhere. Some silver-tongued fool gave me this map for three dollars and told me to head out here. But I’m beginning to think he led me on a wild goose chase.”

The man approached closer, twitching his fingers toward you. You passed him the map, and he studied it for mere seconds before scoffing, passing it back to you. “Yeah, he fooled ya alright. Looks like he drew it in five minutes. Ain’t even worth a cent.”

“Perfect.” you sighed heavily.

“I might know the place you’re talkin’ ‘bout,” the man continued. “It’s a little ways north of here.”

Excitement immediately replaced the disappointment. “You know where it is?” you gasped. “Can you take me?”

He gave a small shrug. “Sure, ain’t got nothin’ else to do.”

Smiling widely, you turned back toward your horse and mounted quickly. He began to walk forward, and you slipped in behind him. He urged his horse into a slow lope and you did the same, moving at a good pace down the path.

“You don’t know how much I appreciate this, Mister,” you spoke out to him. “I would have been wandering this forest forever if you hadn’t come along.”

“I’m sure you woulda found it sooner or later,” he responded. “Why’re you lookin’ for it in the first place?”

“I’m an archaeologist, I study artifacts and sites from ancient civilizations,” you explained. “That burial site from what I hear is remnants of Viking inhabitants.”

“Vikings, huh?” he slowed to be in pace with you, your horses cantering side to side. “Out here?”

You nodded with enthusiasm. “May sound strange, but there’s tons of evidence that they came here hundreds years ago! I’ve found helmets and tools here and there, but this is the first lead I’ve gotten about a tomb.”

The man gave a soft hum. “Ya know, y’oughta be careful out here in these woods,” he said, gazing out into the distance. “Some of the folk out here ain’t too friendly. Snatch ya up if you ain’t careful.”

You gave him a strange look. “I hope you don’t mean yourself.”

He gave a humorless laugh in response. “Nah, I ain’t the type. The ones I’m talkin’ about, they’re called Murfrees. They ain’t right in the head, act more like feral animals than people. Not the smartest, but they’re sneaky.”

Your eyes widened. “And you’d know from experience?”

“’Course, had to fight ‘em off out here on more than one occasion. And I’d hate to see ‘em come up on some poor unsuspectin’ fools out here.”

A shiver coursed through your body, horrified to even think of such a thing to happen to you. Over the years you’d come across some questionable people, though always managed to get through the day unharmed. “Well, then I’m glad to have run into you, Mister…”

“Arthur Morgan.” He answered your unasked question.

---

The two of you chatted nonchalantly for the next ten minutes, although it had been mostly you speaking more about the Vikings, and other ancient artifacts you’d found. Arthur was mostly silent, only commenting every once in a while on your explorations.

Eventually he slowed his horse down to a walk. You had followed suit, your eyes in search for the prize.

“Here,” he motioned directly ahead, pointing to an in-ground structure that had a few open trenches branching out. “I believe that’s what you’re lookin’ for.”

Hastily you hopped off your horse, hurrying forward to get a better view. You halted at the foot of much worn stone steps, leading down into the center of the site. Even from here, you could spot the unmistakable alabaster color of old bones. You slowly stepped down into the trench, taking care of where you put your feet. Some of it was overgrown, roots had snaked their way through the cracks.

As you grew closer, it was apparent that there were more than one set of bones here. In the center of everything was a stone slab with a full skeleton lay across it, in remarkably good condition despite being exposed to hundreds of years’ worth of weather, elements, and possible animal tampering. Meanwhile others were placed around the base of the slab, femurs, detached torsos, skulls stacked neatly. You had to wonder why.

Objectively, it appeared to be a burial site for multiple people. However, there could be more to the story depending on what else lurked here. You dug into your satchel, producing a worn journal to record your findings. You could call yourself a decent artist, if rough sketches could be considered as such. Regardless, without a camera, it was the easiest way to keep track of your discoveries.

“Wonder who they were.” Arthur’s voice startled you, in your excitement you’d nearly forgotten about his presence.

You turned around to face him, he was standing just a few feet away. “From what I see here, it might have been a mass grave.” You answered.

He didn’t answer, although stepped forward to observe. He walked around the slab, studying the remains. He paused and bent down as if to retrieve something.

“Wait, don’t disturb anything!” you warned him.

He stood up straight, holding what looked like a hatchet in his hand. “Thought you’d like to look at this.” He held it out.

You blinked in surprise. How long had this sat here and went unnoticed by this area’s inhabitants? You reached out for it and grasped it carefully. It was surprisingly heavy and sturdy. “Amazing this is still in good condition,” you remarked. “And that nobody took it yet.”

“Guess it’s here for you to find.” Arthur noted with a small smile.

You smiled back at him. “Maybe so.” You put it down to sketch it out.

You took a few more minutes to explore this little find, discovering that it had five branching trenches shaped somewhat like a star. Some of them were closed off with a ceiling, natural and carved out from the earth. You made sure to sketch every angle, noting every piece of information that you could.

Meanwhile, Arthur stood just a few feet away. You were surprised he hadn’t left yet, perhaps he was keeping watch in case one of the Murfree people he mentioned might be lurking around somewhere. Either way, you were too drawn in to really notice the surroundings.

You even caught him staring at your journal as you drew, probably intrigued by it.

Some more time had passed and you finished your last sketch. You stood above the structure, marveling its ancient beauty. Satisfied with your recordings, you placed your journal back into your satchel. You were thankful you were able to find this place, even after being swindled and losing money for it.

Arthur’s footsteps alerted you, and you turned to smile at him as he sidled up next to you. “Y’ get everything?” he asked.

“Oh yes,” you expressed with delight. “This is the most comprehensive find I’ve had in a while! The others in New York won’t believe this!”

“New York?” he repeated with bewilderment. “And you came out here?”

“My work takes me many places, Arthur,” you said proudly. “Though my colleagues would rather have me serving them beer and biscuits. I work three times as hard as them, you know. No respect for the women in this field.”

He made a soft noise, shaking his head as if to agree with you. “Can’t say many men are smart, then.”

Your smile widened at his comment. “Arthur, thank you again for taking me here, and watching over me. You don’t know how much this means to me.”

“Ain’t nothin’,” he said nonchalantly, turning his gaze downward. It only occurred to you then he was fidgeting with something in his hands. As you opened your mouth to ask, he held it up. “By the way, I found this down there. Thought you should have it.”

It was a comb, off white in color and carved with an intricate design. It too was obviously of Viking origin, given the designs of the animals that wrapped around the handle, looping to form holes for holding. It was beautiful.

It left you breathless. “Arthur-” you began. “That’s …”

“I know, I shouldn’t have taken it,” he said with a slightly sheepish tone. “Jus’ seemed to be a shame to leave it down there, for no one to admire.”

You reached out and gingerly took it, holding it flat in your hand. It was an unorthodox gesture, especially from someone you’d just met earlier that day. “Well…thank you.”

A full smile appeared on his lips then, the first you’d seen today. “You’re welcome.”

---

It’d been three days since coming upon the burial site.

Since then, you’d left Annesburg to travel further west, arriving in a little town called Valentine. You settled into a hotel room, copying over your original notes onto paper, as well as refining your sketches to appear clean. You’d soon sent them into the mail, hoping your colleagues would take you more seriously.

You were also on a limited amount of time, having just a few more days before traveling back home.

You adventure didn’t stop there, however. Originally coming here to collect more leads on possible sites, which ended up to be drier than a summer well, you focused on other means. Mulling around this town has proved to be fruitful, as you’d took the time to acquire an odd job here and there to replenish the money you’d spent in the past few days.

The comb you had carefully bundled up into a rag and placed in a small pocket of your satchel, although you admittedly taken it out more than once to appreciate its beauty. You’d sketched it out with everything else, along with the man who gave it to you.

That one, you kept to yourself.

He’d crossed your mind more than once. He’d been the first to not give you an odd look when expressing your interests, or make an offhand comment on how you would make a better housewife. A man like that was certainly a rarity, and you hoped you’d cross paths once more before returning home.

Tonight, you decided to have some relaxation and wandered into the more popular saloon in town. It was expectedly busy; the smell of tobacco and alcohol nearly burned your nostrils as you found a place to sit off to the side.

Despite the rowdiness of the crowd, you were thankful to have gone unnoticed. You sat quietly, sipping a beer whilst observing the drunken tomfoolery that took place around you. People watching entertained you sometimes.

Out of the corner of your eye, the doors swung open to reveal another patron stepping in. Paying little attention to it, your vision wandering to a young harlot pulling a stumbling man up the stairs.

“Miss Y/N?”

You turned your head in surprise, knowing you did not give your name to anyone in here. This however wasn’t some stranger, instead you were looking into the blue eyes of Arthur Morgan.

“Arthur!” you greeted with slight confusion. It were as if the heavens above had heard your prior thoughts. “Didn’t expect to see you here.”

“Likewise,” he replied, pulling back an empty chair to sit at your table. “Ain’t you supposed to be out, lookin’ for more, eh, Viking burial grounds?”

You smiled at him. “Archaeology doesn’t take every facet of my life, you know. I like to take breaks too.”

He chuckled at your response. “Weren’t implyin’ that it was,” he shifted in his chair. “Actually, I’m glad I ran into ya.”

Cheeks burning, you took a swig of beer to hide your surprise. “You are? Why is that?”

“Just wonderin’ ‘bout what else you’ve found. I’d like to see, ‘less it’s private.” He responded.

You raised your eyebrows in surprise. This had to be the first time that anyone was interested in your work, even your fellow colleagues. “You really want to see?” You asked, a tight feeling of disbelief looming in your stomach.

He nodded. “Ya seem so passionate ‘bout it, got me curious is all.”

You couldn’t help but to beam at him, your chest swelling with excitement. Thankfully, you had your journal with you. Digging it out of your satchel, you lay it across the table and flipped open to the first page, containing sketches of various Indian arrow heads you’d found in your home state. “This was just a little after the beginning of my career…” you began, dragging your fingers lightly across the sketch lines, recalling vividly your amazement when you’d unearthed them.

Time wore on and you’d gone through the pages, you’d noticed a slight glimmer in Arthur’s eyes as he studied your drawings. Every once in a while, you could have sworn he was staring at you, yet every time your eyes turned to meet his, he’d swiftly turn his gaze back down to the journal.

You’d eventually reached the most recent section, closing the journal back up as you know he’d already seen that. Placing it back into your bag, you gave Arthur a sweet smile. “What did you think?”

Arthur leaned back, a slight look of awe on his face when he looked at you. “You got quite the collection, Miss Y/N. I’ve been ‘round and ain’t seen half the stuff you have.”

A small giggle escaped your lips. “You just have to know where to look.”

“Guess so,” he groaned as he stretched out. “You stayin’ here?”

You nodded. “Just for the next few days. I’m hoping to find one more site before I get back to New York.”

“Well, I dunno ‘bout other places, ‘sides the one we just went to.” Arthur responded.

“That’s okay, Arthur,” you reached over to pat his arm. “Your help the other day was more than enough. Can’t expect you to escort me to another, if there is one around.”

“Eh, I wouldn’t mind.” he shrugged, a small smile tugging at his lips.

You tucked your head down in hopes to hide the blush that flared on your cheeks. “Well, aren’t you generous, Mr. Morgan?” you said with a lighthearted tone. “Would you mind escorting me to the hotel, then?” you asked, peering back up to him.

Another shrug rolled his shoulders. “Sure.” He replied, his smile turning soft.

Gathering your belongings, you’d marched out of the saloon with Arthur behind you, leaving the drunken chatter behind to a quiet night. It was certainly late; the moon high in the sky and nearly no one outside. The lights from the adjacent buildings have long been extinguished. The distant chirping of crickets and a faint train whistle set a lovely ambience.

Even though the hotel was just down the way, Arthur kept by your side, walking to avoid treading through mud and horse manure. He was certainly a gentleman, uniquely apart from anyone else you’d met out here. It’d only taken a moment of walking before reaching the front steps of the hotel, the orange light flickering as a greeting.

Stepping onto the wooden steps, you turned to face Arthur once again. “Thank you, Arthur.”

He tilted his head in a small nod. “You’re welcome, Miss Y/N.”

As your gazes met, a pang of emotion hit you as you realized you barely even knew this man. He’d been so kind to you and interested in your work, yet he’d never shared a single mention of his personal life. He didn’t have to, given the circumstances in which you two met. However, you would be boarding a train back to New York in a few days’ time, and you highly doubt he’d come up that far.

Regardless, you still wanted to keep in contact.

Reaching for your journal once again, you tore out a page and hastily scribbled an address onto the paper. You held it out to him, noting his look of confusion. “Write to me, please,” you murmured to him. “If you find another site.” You quickly added.

Arthur took the paper slowly, holding it out to read it for a moment before folding it neatly and tucking it into his own satchel. “I’ll be sure to do so.” He responded, giving you the same smile as before.

[judgement-free-sideblog]

Dancing lessons

Barry Berkman x reader

Summary: Barry is finally cast in a feature, the problem? He said he could dance and now he can either disappoint Sally or found a way to learn some steps.

Warnings: Swearing, blood, violence, guns, cheating maybe.

Part 1 ● Part 2 ● Part 3 ● Part 4 ● Part 5 ● Part 6 ● Part 7 ● Part 8 ● Epilogue

Part 2

One week after the first time Barry meet Y/N he was nowhere near learning tango, let alone dancing on the level his stupid resume said he could, he only have ended with horrible pain on his knees, thighs and back. And he hasn't even practice dancing with music yet, apparently his instructor thought he first had to learn one basic step and repeat it a million times before he could start doing the "flashy and presumptuous" step, as she called them, that the director may want.

"You really don't have to worry" Sally said during breakfast, they have an agreement to spend the night at least twice a week in each other apartment but he could tell she rather if he stayed at hers since Jermaine and Nick didn't get along with her. "That girl you say is dancing with you, I just heard from Lindsay that she is totally sleeping with the director so probably the scene is an excuse to show her dancing talent and they will be focusing on her instead of you" She drank the rest of her orange juice and stood up quickly "God is so late" she checked her phone and gave him a kiss on the cheek before taking her purse and keys and rush to the door "I'll see you tonight ok? Good luck!"

"Bye, I love..." And then she was gone. "You" He finished his breakfast and took his own car to the studio where he had to finish filming his scenes.

"Barry you're here, excellent!" Andre said when he arrived, thankfully he was not the star of the film and he didn't have to listen the hundred of notes he had for the leads nor taking all the shit the PAs get from him. "Look" He said pointing at his tablet "Janice is on New York for three more weeks for a Ballet presentation, but she sent this to me, is the perfect choreography for the scene. What do you think?" He showed her a clip of Janice and some professional dancer with a song he didn't knew, probably in Spanish or Italian, dancing incredibly close, with several lifts and spins.

"Great" He said feeling dizzy "Flashy and presumptuous" He add really low.

"What was that?"

"Classy and marvelous, is a modern take on the Argentine style isn't?" He said repeating what Y/N had said to him the day before.

"I have no idea, but hey you are the expert" He gave him a pat on the back. "You can start rehearsing with Janice when she gets back" He didn't like that kind of touching, it reminded him of Fuches and make him feel uneasy.

"Sure, great, hey could you send me that video, you know to study her movements" he tried to sound casual and not frightened as he was.

"Yeah sure" he said and with a hand gesture urged him to move to the set where he got to start shooting.

The minute he was over he drove back to Y/N's studio and saw her giving her class to young girls all dressed as ballerinas, she was wearing a black seetrough dancing skirt over a leotard, and his eyes lingered on her legs a few seconds more than he should mesmerized as he was by the elegance she used to dance.

"Barry you are early" She saluted him with a smile, "Girls say hi to Mr. Block" she said at the mass of pink and white.

"Hi Mr. Block" They cheered.

"I'll be done in a few minutes but this really is a private rehearsal" She pat her lips with one finger thinking "Would you mind waiting upstairs? I mean I would hate for you to drive back home to come back in less than an hour, and the coffee place on this block sucks" She said and the girls start laughing "Don't tell your mothers" She quickly add.

"I don't want to be a burden"

"Oh nonsense, you are not, go upstairs, I have food on the fridge but I wouldn't recommend it since you are dancing later and the WiFi password is written next to the phone" She insisted and he finally accept.

The apartment was just a little bigger than the one he rented with Jermaine and had a nice walls on a blue shade that reminded him of the ocean. And a big window facing directly to the door, so the first thing you see when you entered were the rooftop of other buildings and the hills in the back.

He entered feeling himself as an intruder, but being honest that was a common feeling for him, even if he haven't break in any place in over a year, a very long year, and again the pain of thinking of Fuches maybe lurking around strike him in the chest.

He found a place to sit and after being 5 minutes in complete silence trying to not be alone with his thoughts he took out his laptop to watch the dance again. Next to the landline was a nice picture of Y/N on his wedding dress next to a man that must be her husband with golden letters and numbers written over: JPTLV150813.

Once he was connected he allow himself to look around, the living room was tastefully decorated and there were some framed paintings of wild flowers on the wall in purples and pinks. He glance at their dinner table in the other room next to her kitchen, and while he was still holding he picture his mind start wandering, maybe Sally would like to live with him in a place like that. Full of light and peaceful.

He picture himself waking every morning and walking towards the kitchen to make her breakfast, she getting out of the set exhausted, to get a glass of wine in the living room. Reading lines together in the couch, and falling asleep there watching a movie.

And then since he hadn't sleep wery well and Y/N couch was madly comfortable he fall asleep still holding the picture and suddenly Sally's face start fading away, and Y/N replaced her, in a blue version of the clothes she was wearing earlier, he saw himself dancing with her on the living room, a slow and romantic rhythm, and instead of her husband it was him smiling on the picture next to the phone. She would come upstairs tired from work and he would stop her at the door to give her a passionate kiss... then the sound of a gun going off came from the window and a blood stain start forming in her chest running and she collapsing on his arms, and then it was Sally lifeless body again who he was holding and she whispered before losing her breath You did this and fearful he looked at his own hand holding the gun...

"Barry?" Y/N's voice came from the door, and immediately woke up and shake those horrifying ideas from his mind.

"Here" He call from the couch and was careful enough to not look back and don't picture her covered in blood

"I'm so done, boy I'm glad you came upstairs, Amanda's mother is a pain in the ass, if she have seen you she would have called the cops or something" She said and sit in next of him, she was already wearing the heels she used to practice with him. "What you got there?" She said looking at the screen where the video of Janice was still on.

"Is the dance I'm supposed to do for the movie" He said glad to have something to said and he showed her the clip.

"Well... you are screwed" She said after it was finish and he gave her an imploring look. "I'm kidding, I mean is a monstrosity of showing off, and her technique is not perfect, but I'm pretty sure you can put together something, like Ed Sheeran on Thinking out loud". She said confidently.

"Who?" He asked with no idea of what she meant.

"He is a British singer, we are probably too old to know him, but couples come all the time trying to learn his routine for their wedding" She said, but his face was still puzzled "You are not very familiar with pop culture, for an actor living in L.A. I mean" She stood up and walked towards her kitchen "Do you want anything? I have wine, beer, orange juice?" She called from the other room.

"Beer is fine, and is because I only became an actor recently" He said with some embarrassment in his voice taking the bottleshe offered him "I used to amm... sell auto parts in Cleveland"

"Ohio, that's ... far" she said taking a sip of her drink.

"And before that I was a Marine" He add and she almost spit her beer but did her best to pass it down.

"Oh wow, that's unusual. I would definitely say thank you for your service, but I'm antiwar so what if I gave you a 10 percent off on the lessons and we call it even?" She grin at him

"Don't worry about that, I don't like to make a big deal about it anyway" He said sincerely "Also I'm pretty sure you are wasting your time with me"

"Don't be so harsh on yourself, here look" She took the laptop off his hands and found a video of a ginger man singing a cheezy song about eternal love "See he is not properly dancing, but he act like he is, so first you have to learn how to lead, come on take off your shoes"

"Take them off? Why?" He asked while she got rid off her heels and let her bare feet touch the wooden floor.

"Because, and I mean this with respect" She said standing and looking for a record to put in her old record player until she found one "You are huge, and I'm afraid you would step on me with those shoes" a slow rhythm start playing and he did what she asked and stood barefoot in front of her.

"That doesn't sound like the other songs" Although he like it.

"Because you have to learn to walk before you can run, now, put both of your hands on my hips" She said getting closer to him.

"Like this?" It was funny how without the heels she was way shorter and couldn't completely reach her neck so she settled for put both hands on his shoulders.

"Fine now listen to the music and move" She said moving her body rhythmically "There you go, now move me, lead, right or left, is your choice" She said letting him take small steps and occasionally looking down to watch his feet.

"This is not that bad actually" Barry was actually enjoying himself, then the music start going faster and she took his right hand on hers and pull away from him and he chose to ignore the feeling of lost that caused him.

"Now, the hand on my back has to be steady, and lead, we can spin" She said and taught him how "Or we can walk" She started walking back slowly letting him follow the steps at his own pace. "Is all about who is leading" She gave him a smile and they kept dancing until the music was ending and since he had confidence now he make her spin and catch her on his arm like Janice's partner did on the clip.

"Sorry I always wanted to try that" he said once she was standing next to him.

"It was great, you are getting it, now we can try to improve your actual steps, but we should go downstairs, my husband is about to comeback and he hates having music on when he is working" She put on her shoes again and walked out followed by Barry.

[stereksecretsanta]

Merry Christmas, @nosetothewind94!

I wish you all the best on this holiday season, and I dearly hope this little ficlet finds you happy and well. Enjoy the time with your loved ones, and have a few wonderful days until the end of the year and the coming decade!

*****

You Knew You Were Lost

It was the light that drew him in like a moth, breaking through the lines of trees in flecks of gold and bright white. Derek was out on the run with his family, the full moon bright overhead and the forest floor black and endless below his paws, but the light – the light made him change his track, separate from the pack, trot deeper into the thicker rows of trees here at the head of the Beacon Hills preserve. 

People never got into these woods during a full moon. All of them knew there was a wolf pack roaming free, and that it could get dangerous to  meet them by night. Not that this wasn’t stupid – Derek and his family had never attacked a person, not without reason at least – but it allowed the Hales to move more freely at night, enjoying their run under the moon as one pack, one family. 

A family of werewolves, but a family nonetheless.

Derek walked slower, towards the light that had all but faded now. He could smell something that held the scent of wet metal, and he didn’t need a second to realize that it was blood – but not fresh. The wolf weaved through the underbrush and towards a clearing and then stopped in his tracks, taking in the scene.

There was an upturned metal bowl, like a cauldron, and a stomped-out fire. The floor was slightly wet from the contents of the bowl, where the blood smelled the strongest… And right next to it, completely wrapped up in clothes that were far, far too big for it, was a fox.

But you are no fox, Derek thought, looking at those brown eyes and slightly upturned, pointy nose. The fox flattened his ears in reflex, then startled at what had to be an unfamiliar feeling, and proceeded to try to touch his own ears with his front paw. He opened his mouth, presumably to speak, but all that got out was a high-pitched whine. He shut his teeth again with an audible click, looking something between elated and horrified. 

His leg was still somewhat stuck in those oversized jeans and he looked positively ridiculous.

Derek cocked his head to the side, then lowered himself to the forest floor to make himself smaller, more unsuspecting. There was no way to talk to the fox, although he was rather sure he would be able to understand human language – still, in this form Derek himself was unable to form it. He wagged his tail lightly, to appear more friendly, and peered up at the fox from his position on the ground. 

The fox sneezed, but his tail moved happily, like a fuzzy snake wiggling back and forth. He wasn’t really distressed, from the looks of it. Just… very surprised. 

Slowly Derek stood back up, getting closer to the fox and walking around him. He looked… just like an average fox, really, with somewhat splotchy, reddish fur that turned while on the belly area. His paws were black, and there was a tuft of wild fur standing up between his ever-moving ears that gave him the impression of a wild haircut. His eyes were almost too human in their intelligence. 

Derek stepped closer to him, nudging him out of the jeans with the tip of his nose. The fox made an indignant sound of frustration, but finally got his leg free, standing of all fours for the first time now, looking as if he still needed to get the hang of it. 

And maybe he did. 

The black wolf didn’t consider any longer; he leaned forward, closing his teeth in the fur of the fox’s neck, lifting him up despite his squawk of surprise. It wouldn’t hurt him; Derek himself had been carried like this since he’d been a small pup, barely able to walk on his own. Carrying a fox wasn’t a hardship – they didn’t weight much, anyway, and this one immediately went limp in his grip, letting himself be handled. 

Derek huffed darkly, then trotted back towards his mother howling for him deeper in the woods. He’d find out who this was. 

+++++ “I assume you haven’t been born like this?” Derek asked once he was back to the Hale house, back to his human form, and still alone; he’d left the others in the woods, left to their run and their freedom. The fox sat on his knees, looking up at him and frowning in the perfect impression of a somewhat constipated teenager, before shaking his head in what was clearly a humanoid gesture. So he did understand him, just like he had thought. 

“You were, what? Changed into this? Cast a spell upon? Cursed – “

An eager nod. The fox yipped once, then pawed at Derek’s shoulder, like he wanted to tell him “you got it in one”. Derek frowned at the overly friendly gesture, but let it slide. 

“I know someone… who might be able to help. We’ll go there first thing tomorrow.”

A disappointed whine. 

“We’re not going anywhere today, it’s the middle of the night, and even my … contacts have their limitation. If you want me to help you you gotta play along a little.” He sighed. “We also need to find a way for you to tell me your name – “ 

At that the fox leapt off his legs, sniffing and padding through the room as if it belonged to him. Derek followed him slowly, an eyebrow raised, mostly curious what he would do. 

In the end he watched him pull a newspaper from the heap of old magazines his dad had stacked neatly next to the fireplace, spreading it out on the floor. The fox looked expectantly up at Derek as he set his left foot down on one of the headlines. 

Derek squinted. The clawed paw was pointing at a letter.

“S.” 

With a dramatic nod the fox looked for the next one, repeating his performance. Derek kept reading. 

“T. I. L. E. S. … what the hell is a Stiles?” 

There was an indignant huff, and the fox – Stiles, apparently – flopped down on his belly, looking up with a pout. Derek relented. 

“Alright, alright. Now come on, it’s time to go to bed. You’re sleeping in my room.” 

Stiles followed him keenly, and if ‘in my room’ was a code for ‘in my bed, with your fuzzy head on the pillow and your feet everywhere in my face when I wake in the morning’, well… Derek didn’t have to tell anyone. 

+++++

“He’s very clearly been cursed,” Alan Deaton said in a sombre tone, setting the stethoscope down. Stiles was seated on his metal table, looking unhappy to be where he was, but bravely facing the situation without as much as a whine. 

Derek didn’t want to say it, but he was a little proud of him. 

“Well, is there a way to un-curse him?” the werewolf asked drily, rubbing the back of his head. Stiles looked over at him and his tail moved again, indicating a certain happiness that he had asked for him. 

“Unfortunately,” Deaton began, and Derek felt his heart sinking in his chest, “this curse cannot be solved through anything I have access to. On the other hand, from what I can see it’s time-bound. It should only remain for a week, and then he should turn back into his old self all on his own. No magical tinctures required.” 

“And his… family?” Derek hazarded. At the mention of family Stiles’ eyes went wide, and he whined mournfully. So he hadn’t thought about this yet. 

“Thankfully, I do know where this young man belongs to,” Deaton replied, not even missing a beat. “I will make sure his father does not consider him missing in the meantime. Unfortunately, this means he is safest off in your hands for the time being…”

“I get it,” Derek replied, a little gruff. But he stepped forward, already lifting Stiles back up into his arms. He didn’t really mind the feeling of the fur against his skin, or the way Stiles moved to wiggle around in his arms until he was comfortable – not even the slightest bit. Maybe that should worry him. 

He left the vet’s office, ignoring the people staring at him for the fox perched halfway on his shoulder, looking as if the entire world belonged to him. 

+++++

They rode back home in the Camaro, Stiles on the passenger seat with his nose pressed against the window. He made a whining noise once they drove past the first fast food joint, and then another after the next, and finally Derek relented, steering the sleek black car into the Drive-Thru. 

“I don’t even know what you like,” the werewolf murmured half to himself. Stiles sat up straighter, then climbed over onto his lap, paw pointing at the plastic pictures of… cheeseburger and curly fries. 

Well then. 

They ate in the parking lot, and finally Stiles curled up on Derek’s discarded jacket, making the happiest sound Derek had ever heard from a fox. He had torn through the entire package of curly fries like a starving man, and maybe that was just what he was, underneath the cursed skin of a woodland animal. 

Derek watched him for a moment, sipping his drink; then he started the motor, taking them towards the Beacon Hills preserve. 

+++++

The rather peaceful time he had been able to enjoy the last evening, was all for naught as soon as he took only but one step through the door. 

His older sister, Laura, was the first to approach him, opening her mouth to say something, but stopping entirely in her tracks once she spotted the fox. Her face lit up like the proverbial Christmas tree. 

"Oh... Oh, Derek! What’s this?"

“A smoothie," Derek replied on instinct. Stiles made a noise between a whelp and a sneeze, and the werewolf figured he might be laughing. 

So he got the reference, huh? A nerd fox. 

"That's Stiles," Derek finally said, taking half a step back as his sister came closer and closer to try to look at the animal on his arm. "He was cursed in the woods or something. I just took him to Deaton, and he said he should change back in a bit."

"Cursed?" 

Laura looked up in sudden alarm, worry crossing her face. It was painfully easy for Derek to read his family, most of all his sisters. 

"By whom? Is there a witch on our grounds..? Do we need to tell mom?", she asked, almost talking to herself. Then she shook her head lightly and made a clicking sound. 

"Cora! Come here! You gotta see this!" 

Cora, the younger sister, bounded down the stairs almost immediately, her customary frown etched into her face. She was clearly not amused by this disturbance... until she saw the fox. 

"OH MY GOSH! IT'S SO CUTE!"

Cora darted forward as if stung, almost immediately up in Derek’s personal space. Stiles, however, put back his ears and growled in a sudden display of aggression.

"Don't touch him," Derek said reflexively. It was out of his mouth before he even realized he said it. 

Cora froze with her hand outstretched, and Stiles bared his teeth and ruffled up the raggedy fur at the back of his neck, trying to appear bigger or more imposing. Derek held him a little tighter.

"He's cursed, he's no pet, and he's a little - skittish. You don't want him to bite you, okay?"

"Oh... wow, you two are... ", she mumbled, but then pressed her lips together and retreated with a nod. Laura's lips, right next to her, were stretched into a fond smile. 

"How long will this curse last?"

"A week," Derek said, eyeing Cora with confusion. What did she mean? He tried to catch Stiles' gaze, but the fox proceeded to try to bury himself in his jacket, disappearing entirely and staying slotted between his chest and his clothes. It was way less uncomfortable than Derek had expected. "Deaton said he should stay here for the time being. His family won't look for him, he informed them he's... I don't know. Off somewhere."

Laura nodded at that, an almost knowing smile on her lips. It was, quite frankly, a little unsettling to see. "

Okay. Is he... yeah, he is comfortable with you, from the looks of it. That’s very good to know. Have you two already eaten?" 

At that Stiles' head popped up, ears wiggling.

"Despite what he's probably trying to tell you with his body language, yes, we had horrible and unhealthy fast food on his request." 

Stiles looked at him from the collar of his jacket, protesting loudly. Derek just ruffled his head between his ears without thinking about it. 

"So yeah, we're good. I think."

Laura  nodded again, then placed one hand on Cora's shoulder. 

"Come on, let's leave them alone. Give them the extra bonding time..." 

"I wonder who he is? And who cursed him! Hey, foxy, once you're back to speaking, we can kick that witches' arse!", Cora announced with a big and toothy grin before turning around, following her sister down the corridor.

Stiles' ear flopped a little to the side as he watched the two of them leave, and Derek had the feeling he let out a long breath of air like a sigh. 

"They're not that bad," he said quietly, just loud enough for Stiles to hear. The fox didn't seem to agree and burrowed deeper into his jacket with a growl of open disagreement. 

Derek just smiled, taking him up to his room.

+++++

Stiles stayed in his bed this night – like every other night, in fact. 

During the day, they were out together as well. Stiles had a good look at the unfamiliar house, kind of avoided Derek’s sisters, then got to know his parents and Peter, who just stared at him and then went off laughing like a maniac. Then he accompanied Derek during his run through the forest, and it ended with Derek transforming into a wolf as well, and them playing until they fell asleep, with the wolf curled around the smaller fox. 

Derek noticed that it was actually really nice having Stiles around, although he was a tiny troublemaker. He loved to play pranks, and judging from the sounds he made as a fox, he would be really talkative as a human. He didn't let the others touch him, but he always curled up really close to Derek, or right up inside his clothes. One day he also walked around with one of his hoodies on his back, tail wagging and tongue lolling out, as if this was the best thing ever.

It was odd, having Stiles around... but odd in the best ways possible. Derek studied with the fox spread out on his lap, read him from his favourite science fiction books (all of them dog-eared and with yellowed pages through and through), and went on his morning run with nobody else than the fox at his side. And damn, it felt... good, having someone he could share all this with. Someone at his side, that seemed to understand him.

"I wonder if we would have been friends if you were never cursed," Derek said one night, stretched out on his bed, looking at Stiles on his back, feet in the air. The fox looked back at him, one ear flopping to the side as he slowly edged closer, closer, until his nose almost touched Derek's face. He made a sound close to a whine, then opened his mouth and shut it again. Finally, he moved his tail.

"I have no idea what you want to tell me," Derek replied softly, ruffling his fur and leaning in to brush his nose against Stiles' cheek. He felt so warm like this - warm and comforting in the best way, and if Derek took a deep breath he smelled something absolutely divine, like warm cinnamon in deepest winter...

Stiles edged even closer, appearing sad now. He pushed himself underneath Derek's head, yipping briefly.

"I’m sorry, Stiles," Derek said quietly, rubbing his belly and holding him close. The smell only seemed to grow stronger, and he sighed deeply, eyes closed and enjoying the feeling of warmth, of a closeness he had never felt, he’d never experienced before, and which he wanted to last –

Derek vaguely remembered falling asleep like that. He felt Stiles' warm fur, his soft breathing, the nice scent, everything was there... 

...and he certainly hadn't expected it to turn into flailing limbs the next day. Limbs that fell right out of his bed with a loud thumb. 

"OH, FUCK!"

"What the," Derek said suddenly and with fervour, sitting up with a start. Just seconds ago - or, well, what felt like seconds ago - he'd held on to small furry limbs, and now?

Now the most beautiful, warm eyes stared back at him from the floor of his bedroom, and the pointy, fuzzy ears were gone, and the fur was, too, and Stiles - Stiles was a human, a very naked, very good-looking human, mind, and the smell of cinnamon was everywhere –

“Holy shit,” the boy said, and Derek felt his heart soaring at the sound of his voice, like things inside of him slotted back together and were finally, finally in the right place, and – 

He hoisted the boy – Stiles, now the real Stiles – up on the bed, earning him a squeak that sounded familiar for some reasons, and threw his arms around him. The embrace was different – those limbs were longer now, and felt… different, but better even still – but the smell was the same, tantalizing sweetness and something Derek had never found before. 

Then Stiles made another high-pitched sound. 

“Dude. Not complaining on the hug front, but I am sorta naked here??” 

“Right,” Derek coughed, sitting back. Stiles almost immediately grabbed a blanket and wrapped himself up in it, only his head peering out with wide eyes. He was… smiling. It looked stunning on him, and Derek really, really wanted to kiss him. 

“You are even prettier with these eyes,” the boy muttered. Derek ducked his head a little, watching him closely. He felt himself flush, but in the best way. 

“As are you. I think we got a lot to talk about, now that you can…”  

[jinmukangwrites]

Shrine

First draft of "Somebody Different" that I decided I would upload to here for the heck of it. If you haven't read the actual fic I don't recommend reading this, because I'm not going to continue this one lol

Warnings: rushed and lazy editing, character death, blood, Jin's bad writing, maybe some plot holes idk

-o-o-o-o-

"Get up, idiot," Legend growls. He presses down harder against the large gash running down the body's chest below him. Yet it was useless, his hands are too small to cover the large wound. Behind him, thunder rumbles like a bad omen, darkening the sky and carrying away the smell of monster blood with pure rain. The bodies of Moblins and Bokoblins litter the ground behind them.

Downed by a Moblin…

Wild gasps weakly. Where are the others? They would have potions, fairies, everything that's needed. They would save him, because there is no way Wild is going to meet his demise by taking the blow Legend should have seen coming. "Twilight will kill me if you die," he continues.

Wild is weakly shaming his head, as if he's saying it's already too late. No one is coming. He's going to die here. Legend feels panic swell in his veins.

"Don't- don't do this to me, Wild," he gasps and Wild's eyes flicker as they slowly close. Drops of rain begin to pain the world around them.

Where are the others? They got split up- the ambush was huge, the had to divide and conquer, but they'd have to have finished by now, right?

"I-" Wild gurgles out blood, it turns pink with the rain falling on his face.

"No-" Legend mutters, "no no no, Wild, stop."

What can he do? Wild is bleeding to death, his pulse getting weaker with each moment. He looks up from Wild and spins his head around, he doesn't know why. Maybe to see if someone's nearby? Maybe a magical jar of health position decided to pop into existence…

There's none of that, but there are towering cliffs in the distance. The Great Plateau.

"The Resurrection Shrine," he whispers.

"N-" Wild starts, his eyes are wide with panic but Legend's attention is caught by the sounds of yelling behind him.

"Legend?!" Time is the first to arrive, and it seems Legend is the first to be noticed. That doesn't last long before there are multiple bodies surrounding them.

"Wild?!" Twilight gasps, practically shoving Legend out of the way. Legend just manages to keep his hold on the wound. "Wild?!"

Wild looks up at him and splutters blood when more hands are pressing down onto his chest, Sky is using his own white cloth and Twilight his fur. It does nothing to stop the red seeping through. The rain is coming down hard now, almost masking the pounding in Legends ears.

"Health potion," Hyrule yells over the rain slamming into the ground, turning slightly pink around the growing puddle around Wild's body.

There's ruffling as multiple people start to rummage around in their pockets and bags, but as Legend looks at Wild's eyes, eyelids barely even responding to the drops landing on his face, he knows that he is going to die before any kind of potion can get to his lips.

"You're going to be okay," Legend says, but his voice is barely heard over Twilights own promises. Although, Wild finds the strength to look directly at Legend, for he must know that Legend is promising something different. "I'll make sure you'll be okay." He whispers as the rain flattens his hair against his head and neck, washing Wild's own hair light red with his own blood.

"N-no," Wild's gasps and the others assume it directed at him. They continue their assurances that he'd be fine, that Warrior found half a bottle of health potion, but Legend knows it's directed right at him by the way Wild's eyes seem to be looking right at his soul, full of desperation and terror. "Not- shrine-" his eyes screw up as coughing tears at his body, spewing blood out of his mouth and nose and splattering Sky, Twilight, and Legend with it.

Legend feels something horrifying stir in his chest at Wild's scared and small protests. It can't be possible that Wild would rather remain dead than go to the shrine?

Warrior scrambles up and is open his meager amount of his potion. It's almost hilarious that they do not have more. Wild looks at Legend again when his coughing settles, but his gaze is far away and cloudy. He whispers a small please before his gaze shifts a bit to the left and stays there.

"No!" Twilight practically screams. He rips the bottle out of Warrior's grasp and shoves it past Wild's slightly parted lips, dripping red liquid into his mouth, yet all that happens is it puddles in his mouth and streams lazily down his lips. Legend isn't surprised, Wild's chest has gone completely still beneath his stained fingers. "No! No!" Twilight continues to scream when Wild doesn't respond. Sky slumps back, eyes wide with shock, and Twilight starts to shake Wild's shoulders desperately, moving to slap his cheeks every so often. Legend slowly removes his hands and looks down as the rain around him slowly becomes s white, ringing noise. The liquid runs down his fingers, trailing the red with it, dripping it down his wrists and forearms. It doesn't get the blood between his fingernails.

The rest of them must have realized that nothing is going to save him because Twilight is suddenly sobbing and screaming as Time gently pries him away from the body. Four is standing there, his mouth covered by his hands with his eyes wide and reddening. Warrior and Hyrule are both staring at the skies like the couldn't believe what has happened. Wind is burrowing themselves into Sky's bloodied arms, shoulder shaking with his cries.

Wild remains still, dead, in a puddle of his own blood.

Thunder rumbles and lightning strikes. Legend turns from his arms and looks at the cliffs in the distance. He swallows and opens his mouth. For a second, no sound comes out and he fears he had gained Wild's muteness as a punishment, but eventually, strangled words manage to claw out of his throat.

"The shrine," he croaks. Twilight stops trying to get out of Times restraining hold and they all look at Legend like they didn't believe what he had just said. He looks at Wild's body, blinking water from his eyelashes and takes a deep breath. "The Shrine of Resurrection," he whispers, "it can help him."

"Let's do it," Twilight says immediately. His eyes are wet but full of determination. Time looks down at Twilight in surprise before he turns his head over to the Great Plateau.

"I don't know if that's a good idea," he says and Twilight begins to protest along with several other voices. Legend remains silent, his bit already said.

"How could you say that?" Four snarls, walking up to Time like he's about to throw hands. There are tears running down his face along with the drops of rain. "We need to try it. We can't just… let him die."

"But… what will it do to him?" Hyrule asks, and Time looks relieved that he isn't the only on hesitant to go through with the shrine. "Last time, he was asleep for a hundred hearts and forgot everything."

"There has to be another way," Time continues before Twilight can argue, "we can't rely on this extreme-"

"It's the only way," Sky speaks up, still clutching Wind to his chest. The sword on his back seems to be glowing never so slightly. "She says it's the only way to save him." His eyes look sad as he glances at Wild, like he would too agree with Time if the Master Sword hasn't said otherwise.

Twilight pushes against Time with all of his strength and stumbles out of reach. He kneels next to Wild before he goes to gather his body into his arms. "We're going to the shrine," he says, struggling to stand up with the weight. Wild's eyes remain open, allowing the rain to fall into them, his limbs are completely limp, hanging awkwardly out from Twilight's hold. He begins to walk towards the cliffs, feet pounding in the wet ground, being up splashes of mud.

"Sky," Time says, "are you sure that's what the master sword said?"

Sky nodded, pushing himself and Wind up to their feet. "She says it is the only way to bring him back," he repeats. He looks past Time towards where Wild was being carried bridal style through the storm to his only salvation. He frowns sadly. "But he won't thank us for it."

The group seems to all decide at the same moment that if it was the only way, they must risk it. Legend takes a few seconds longer to follow as he glances back to the spot Wild fell. Streams of water lazily flowed through the grooves in the dirt, slowly washing away the impossible amount of red. He swallows, thinking about how Wild practically begged him not to go to the shrine, but… this was all his fault. He should have been more aware, he should have seen the monster coming. Wild shouldn't have had to jump in the way.

It was all his fault, and the guilt, the thought that it should be him lying dead on the ground, outweighs the small sliver of hesitation he has that what they are about to do will be one of the biggest mistakes they have ever made.

-o-o-o-o-

The storm is long past by the time Legend can see the shrine up ahead. The sky is only slightly covered by clouds, allowing glorious sunlight to stream down and shine upon each of the heroes as they trekked. Legend picks at his fingernails as he walks, doing his best to get the dried blood out from them, and maybe then when he's done he'll feel like he wasn't drowning, like he wasn't forever stained, tainted with his own companion's death.

Yet, as they all stood at the mouth of the shrine leading into the mountain, Legends fingernails we're clean, but he felt furthest from it. He still felt as dirty as he had before the rain washed everything away. He glances at Wild, still cradled against Twilight's chest. His skin is horribly white and his cheeks already sunken. His hair trails down, hanging with tips stained with mud. His eyes are closed now, closed by Hyrule who couldn't stand to see his foggy white eyes any longer as they traveled.

He feels like he needs to throw up.

"We're here," Time says wearily. Everyone peeks into the shrine like there's a beast within its belly, waiting to strike them down the moment the enter. He places a hand on Twilight's shoulder but Twilight shoves himself out of it and strides inside. One by one, the rest follow. Legend takes a couple breaths to calm the panic in his gut before he walks inside. The clean air turns dusty, reminding him of all the times he had plunged himself into caves and dungeons, wearing the title of hero on his chest like a badge. He doesn't feel like that now. No, this time all he can feel is terror. Like he is the terrible monster they all fear would materialize out from the shadows.

Turn around, the creature you fear isn't hiding behind the corners or crawling down your spines, it's me. Because I killed him. It's my fault he's here.

The sword on Sky's back glows, like it's speaking to him. For a second, Legend hopes that it's telling Sky to strike Legend down with it. Maybe if he's the one laying on the ground lifeless, Hylia would take mercy and trade their lives. He wants to scream, because it should be him. That gaping wound on Wild's chest should be on his own. He should have been the one choking on his own blood, he should have been the one whose last sight was the stormy sky above.

Warrior jumps down the small drop first and helps lower Wild's body down, of which has gone stiff a few hours before. By the way Warrior frowns as he holds Wild's body against his, he must be lighter than what he was expecting. That fact makes Legend dizzy with guilt.

Twilight is next to jump down and he practically tears Wild's body away from Warrior and continues deeper into the dimly lit shrine. When Legend's feet land in the small puddle of water below him, he looks in front of him and sees a small staircase leading up to where remains of wooden boxes lay next to two opened chests. For a second, Legend feels like he's out of his body, out of his time, and watching as Wild stumbles out practically naked, seeing everything for the first time. He can almost hear Wild's bare feet pad on the ground, see where he kneels down and opens each chest to grab whatever could have been inside. Link may have been born a hundred years before he woke up, but this was Wild's awakening. This was his first steps, his first breaths, his first blinks and thoughts and feelings. This was where his life started.

And now he is back.

And it's all Legend's fault.

They continued down deeper into the room, climbing the steps and glancing at the walls in wonder. Legend kept his gaze focused on the open doorway ahead of them, thinking that it could be mistaken as a terrible beast waiting for them to walk inside its mouth.

The chamber is cold. That's the first thing Legend notices as they walk into the room. It's as icy and heartless as the sword on his back. It glows in a dim blue light and it repeats their every step with eerie echoes. In the middle is what looks like a tub. It's empty, and it reminds Legend more like a tomb than anything else. It was certainly not welcoming.

"We… have to undress him," Sky says. Twilight doesn't even question it as he gently lays Wild's stiff body on the ground and begins to unlatch belts and tear through halfway destroyed clothes with shaking hands. Wild's body acts like he's been frozen. His joints don't move as fluidly as they should and when Time kneels down to help Twilight get the trousers off, his whole body follows the movement as of he were a statue. A few hours ago, Legend had thought that no one should have been as limp as Wild was, but now, as rigor mortis has settled in, he thinks that no one should be that still.

The strip Wild down to his undergarments. Red paints his chest, making it look like his whole chest was torn right off, but Legend can see where skin folds upwards from his left collar bone all the way to his right hip. It's black, but if one looks closer they can see the sickening color of Wild's white ribs. He didn't have a chance of survival after gaining that wound. Legend's eyes trail over the man scars on Wild's naked body, and he wonders if Wild would keep this one too.

"Okay," Twilight says, his voice is quiet and raspy, he hasn't talked since he had fist picked up the body. "We… put him in now?"

No one answers him for a few seconds, and Legend realizes how little they had planned this through. What do they do now? He looks down at Wild's discarded clothes and sees a small slight growling orange. He looks behind him and sees a pedestal with a small, rectangular shape in the middle.

"Put him in," Legend says, and the words come out of his throat like tar. It feels like he's condemning Wild to a fate worse than death. He pushes that aside and swallows, he steps forward and reaches through the clothes with sickening brown stains and picks up the Sheikah Slate. He turns and sees everyone looking at him sadly.

They don't know it's his fault.

"Put him in," he repeats as his heart pounds terribly hard in his chest. He's afraid everyone can hear it.

Twilight thankfully doesn't need to be told a third time before he gently picks Wild up like he is a sleeping child. Legend turns and walks over to the pedestal, holding the slate in his shaking hands. He turns just in time to see Twilight lower Wild down into the empty chamber, brushing his long hair away every so slightly before he steps back, folding his arms across his stomach like he was fighting off nausea.

Legend turns back and holds the slate in front of him. He stands there, for probably too long, as words whisper in his ears like a haunted song. "no, please, not the shrine."

"Please…"

He swallows and fights the stinging in his eyes as he lowers the slate down, placing it in it's small, hallowed out spot. A mechanical beep comes from the machine and the lights flashed. The mechanism latch onto the slate and spin one, twice, before coming to a stop and flipping the slate upside down. The air seems to grow colder as a loud humming noise started up. The sound of water follows not long after.

Legend turns back and watches with the others as glowing blue liquid begins to fill the chamber from out of nowhere. Twilight looked ready to grab Wild when the liquid seeped over his chest. The dried blood instantly seemed to vaporize into nothing as the liquid continued further up, leaving his wound completely exposed to the substance. The liquid traveled higher and Legend had to fight to keep breathing when it rose above Wild's face, completely submerging him.

Wind was the first to break the silence when the mechanism halted.

"Will he remember us?"

[inkedmyths]

What is this, Peter Pan?

This idea came out of the @linkeduniverse Discord

Even though it, at least at this point, has little to do with LU (we get off topic a lot)

Anyway, a concept: Every Hero has to face his inner demons. Wild has a pretty unconventional reaction.

Enjoy this disaster of 2,404 words

The title of Hero has been passed down for millennia in Hyrule. Stories upon myths upon legends speak of those brave enough to face evil head on. No adventure is exactly the same, but similarities thread through each tale of daring. Certain events, certain names... certain trials.

Among those trials is that of the Shadow. Each Hero, on his quest to prove himself, must face his Shadow in battle. Typically, this is involved in proving their worth in wielding a sacred item, most often the blade known as the Master Sword.

The battle was to be a test of strength in the body and mind, as well as endurance, tactics, and overall skill. It often requires preparation, as it is no easy task to face one's own darkness. Many took as long as they could to prepare for the showdown. It was an important marker on the journey of a Hero.

A marker of which Link knew nothing about.

That isn't to say he wasn't told. In fact, he'd known all about it at some point. He'd even completed said trial.

But that was a century prior to waking up with no memory. And, as it turned out, amnesia meant he had to go out and prove his worth again. Not that he minded too much, seeing as he didn't remember doing it before anyway and wasn't entirely sure himself if he qualified as 'worthy'.

In fact, Link thought it sounded like great fun to repeat his prior actions. Exploring and relearning the world was quite a good pastime, in his opinion. A legendary blade that wouldn't break was certainly a plus as well. He was tired of those useless pieces of metal he picked up off of bokogoblins.

He'd finally been able to pull the blade out of the stone the princess had left it in. It gleamed in the setting sun, polished metal glinting elegantly. Even if he hadn't known it was the Master Sword, he'd have guessed it was a powerful blade by looking at it. This was a far cry from the swords left by monsters and simple travelers.

Link whistled as he walked aimlessly. He had no idea what he was whistling, but it invoked images of a fresh, green forest. Since he was approaching one at that moment, he deemed it fitting.

As he scanned the trees in front of him, he returned to turning over a thought he'd been coming back to since leaving the Lost Woods. He was fairly sure the Great Deku tree had mentioned 'trials of the Hero' that he had to face. Link, being as unknowledgeble as he was, had no idea what those entailed. The Shrines, perhaps? Divine Beasts? Despite having pondered the statement repeatedly, he wasn't all that worried. He was sure he'd figure it out one way or another, whether that being someone telling him or him stumbling across the answer on accident.

That train of thought was quickly derailed as his eyes locked on a structure past the trees. Link's ears twitched slightly at the sight of the bokogoblin camp. He couldn't tell how many there were from here. Sitting down, he started shuffling through his gear.

The sun dipped down behind the hills and darkness settled across Hyrule as Link dug around in his gear. This bag of holding was useful, but a bit of a pain to find stuff in.

It was at that moment that his sword began glowing.

The Master Sword, to be specific. Link looked over in surprise, a feeling which only increased as he glanced behind him to see his shadow cast by the glow... shifting? Which most certainly was Not A Thing Shadows Should Do.

It wavered for a moment, as if being seen through water. Then it stopped. Then it did it again, before solidifying once more.

And began moving on it's own.

It shifted an arm, feeling its fingers as though testing them out. Link watched in fascination as it shifted its arms. Then it turned its head towards him, red orbs appearing where eyes would be.

The shadow then seemed to bubble. Not as in it began shifting across the grass in a certain way, but as in an actual black substance bubbling on the ground where the shadow was. It pulsated upwards, oozing and popping as it began to take shape. It shifted and grew and writhed until it formed a vaguely humanoid shape that was getting less vague by the second. One twisting dribble became an arm. Another swirled into what looked like fabric. After a continuing shifting and formation, Link was, to say the least, rather surprised.

Standing in front of him was his Shadow. It looked exactly like him, apart from the fact that it was mostly black and dark grey with white hair and pure red eyes. But definitely him. He tried to think of something to say, since it- he?- seemed to be waiting for him to do something.

"...oh."

That wasn't the reaction he was expecting. No no, he was pretty sure that wasn't right. Wasn't he supposed to look horrified or something? At least battle ready.

But instead the Hero looked at him with a look of surprise. Not even shock, no, just surprise. Which he thought was rather rude. After all, he was the incarnation of his darkness. He was way more properly aghast last time-

Hang on. Why was there a last time? He was pretty sure there wasn't supposed to be. Now that he thought more on it, he'd definitely done this before. The Hero had won, right? So why was he back here?

He fixated the boy with a glare. Only one way to find out. "Well?"

Said boy blinked, looking mildly confused. "Well what?" Apparently his Cold-and-Intimidating voice hadn't worked.

"Well? What are you doing on the ground?" He hissed.

Link blinked again at his Shadow's question. He supposed it was a fair inquiry. What was he doing here again? Then he remembered.

"Oh yeah, the bokogoblins."

He went back to rummaging in his bag, pulling out the last few things he'd been looking for. As he did so, he pondered the Shadow's presence. Hadn't someone at some point said the Master Sword would guide him? It had started glowing when the Shadow appeared. Maybe this was its way of providing guidance. A bit unconventional, he supposed, but then again so was just about everything else he did. At least he thought it was unconventional. To be fair, he wasn't a hundred percent sure he knew what 'conventional' was. For all he knew this was the norm.

He had definitely not been expecting that response. "Bokogoblins?" He asked, slightly incredulous. What did that have to do with the fact that they were supposed to fight? Which was something he was pretty sure they had to do. But hadn't they already done that?

"I'm getting there," the Hero replied absently. He pulled out a bow and arrow before setting them aside and started pulling off his tunic.

"Why are you taking your clothes off?" He was more confused than ever. He was fairly sure the Hero had not been like this before. More like a typical hero. And had definitely kept his clothes on.

"It's better." The boy stuffed his clothes into his Convinent Magic Bag.

"...better?" It couldn't possibly be better for a fight, so he hadn't the foggiest as to what he was going on about.

"For fire." A fire arrow was gestured to for emphasis.

...okay then. "And what is the fire for, exactly?"

"The bokogoblins." With that, he stood up, bow and arrows in hand and sword slung on his back and set off down the grassy slope towards the trees.

With lack of a better thing to do, along with being frankly quite stunned at the entire exchange, he followed the Hero down into the forest. The Hero, whom he noted, had both changed and not changed. He didn't look like he'd aged much since the initial Trial of the Shadow. On the other hand, he was significantly more scarred. His entire left side was a scarred, which was currently on display seeing as he wasn't wearing anything save for his undershorts. It looked they were burn marks, so severe that he had to question how this here Hero was alive.

How being set aside, the very much alive Hero crouched behind a tree, ears perked attentively as he examined the encampment of monsters in front of him. Peering around the him, he could see that it was quite large, a several story structure wrapped around a tree. Several bokogoblins wandered about the levels, as well as a few moblins. He glanced to the Hero.

"What exactly are you going to do about this?"

The Hero was silent as he took aim. "This," he said as he fired the now ablaze fire arrow into the encampment. It hit a bokogoblin, who promptly burst into flame. Screaming, it ran into another one of its brethren, who in turn now had flames coursing across its body. This domino reaction continued until one of them flailed straight into a red barrel, which promptly exploded. The resulting fire ball set off other barrels, flinging monsters and turning the camp and the surrounding trees into a blazing furnace.

To his shock, the Hero was grinning. "Now that's how you do it." His eyes sparkled in the light of his bonfire, giving him an almost manic look.

He decided he actually quite liked this Hero.

Glancing up at the blaze, he spotted movement. "Looks like some of them survived."

"Damn, that usually does the trick. Guess they want more fire." He started to reach for another arrow.

"... Do you have any wooden weapons, perchance?"

The Hero paused, then grinned wider. "I like the way you think." He reached into his bag and pulled out some kind of club. Standing up, he made note of the monsters still standing. "Alright, here goes nothing."

And he charged forward. Nimbly dodging flames and various items scattered by the blasts, he smacked the first bokogoblin he ran into, which died immediately. He continued across the clearing, his now aflame club making short work of the leftover enemies. Laughter could be heard among the squeals and crackling flames. It belonged to both the Hero and the Shadow, who seemed delighted but this absolute chaos.

Yes, he decided, he did rather like this Hero.

Link finished off the last moblin before turning to face his Shadow. He was still sitting at the edge of the clearing still, laughing. Grinning, Link made his way over.

"Now that was what I call a good way to spend the evening." The Shadow chuckled more at that.

"One hell of a way. Fantastic. Absolutely amazing."

Link laughed with him a moment, before another thought occurred to him. "Say, who are you anyway? I mean, I kind of assumed you're... I dunno, my shadow or something?"

His "shadow's" laughter subsided. "That's about right. I'm supposed to be a trial of some sort." He paused, glancing up to see his reaction.

Link considered this. "Like, a battle trial or something?"

"Essentially. I vaguely recall fighting before though, so I'm not sure entirely what this all means. It's supposed to be a onetime thing."

"I'm redoing everything, so I guess that makes sense. I probably did fight you previously in that case."

His shadow raised an eyebrow. "Why, pray tell, are you redoing everything."

Link shrugged. "I was in a coma for a century and lost my memory, so I guess that made my worthiness questionable."

"Alright, next question. Century long coma?"

"Calamity Ganon."

"Ah," he replied, seeming to understand, at least somewhat.

"By the way, are you... like, made of Calamity?"

The question was met with an offended pout. "Wow, rude. No I am not one of that pig's henchman. Darkness, yes, but a different kind entirely. Better, more refined than that rubbish."

"Okay then." Link hesitated, shifting awkwardly. "So, do we, uh... fight each other then?"

"In theory. I don't really feel like it though."

"You don't?" Link asked, surprised.

"You kidding? You just set an encampment of monsters and the surrounding area on fire." He stood up. "Sticking around with you sounds far more entertaining than fighting."

Link processed this for a moment. "So... you'd rather just, like, hang around than fight me?"

His Shadow rolled his eyes. "That's what I just said."

Link’s ears perked up slightly. A traveling companion! A very strange one, but still. “One more thing. Do you have a name? Since you can’t just have mine, and I’ve kind of just been thinking of you as the ‘shadow’ up until this point.”

He waited while his question was considered. “I haven’t thought of that. I guess we can’t both be Link, that would get confusing. Shadow is too basic,” he decided.

“Okay... what about... Night? Darkness? Shade?”

“Nope, still too basic.”

“Nocturnal?”

“Better, but I don’t like how it rolls of the tongue. Got any more interesting ones?”

Link bit his lip in thought. “...Caliginosity.”

“...What is fuck all does that even mean?” 

“Misty or dark, I think.”

His shadow gave him a look. “You can’t remember doing the Hero Trials, but you remember some obscure word?” Link only shrugged in response. “Whatever. Why don’t we move away from darkness related words? Got any other ideas?”

“Uh... Chain? Like, Link and Chain?”

“Nope.”

“Drake? Dirk?”

“No and no.”

“...Gloopy.”

“If you call me that again I’m going to change my mind about fighting you.”

This went on for several minutes before the shadow was suddenly struck by an idea. “Say, what’s your heroic title? What are you the Hero of?”

Taken aback, Link answered. “Hero of the Wild.”

“’Wild’ as in nature or as in crazy?” Once again, only a shrug in response. “Okay, wild, wild... something related to that.”

“How about Feral?”

His shadow blinked, then broke into a smile. “Feral. Feral. Yes, that has a nice ring to it. I’ll keep it.”

“Finally,” Link sighed.

They stood there for a moment. The fire had mostly gone out by now, though there were plenty of embers still glowing. Smoke curled around the remnants of what had been the encampment structure. Ashes swirled on the night wind.

Link turned again to Feral. “Want to go find another encampment to burn?”

“Hell yes.”

[scentedbygunpowder]

Royai Week, 2019 Day 5 - Unfinished business Word count: 1,908 Author: Katie/Ally (scentedbygunpowder) Rating: T Summary:  Roy and Riza have some unfinished business to take care of after Ishval--and it isn’t the pleasant kind. Warnings: Burns, suicidal thoughts

Unfinished Business

He stumbled towards the door, wondering who could be knocking on it so insistently in the middle of the night. It wasn’t as if he had been asleep—no, the nightmares and memories wouldn’t let him sleep easily—but it was still annoying for someone to be insistently knocking on his door at this time of night.

He swore, if it was another girl come to throw herself on him because his “heroic” actions saved her father/brother/nephew/son/whatever in Ishval he was going to set the place on fire, fake his death and move away until it all died down.

Besides, there was nothing heroic in what he did.

With a scowl he yanked open the door—and stopped cold.

On the other side stood a familiar face, her bangs falling over her eyes, eyes that were just as tired and haunted as his were.

“Hello, Lieutenant Colonel,” she said, her voice nearly void of life. “I believe we have some unfinished business.”

It hadn’t taken long before he had Riza sitting on his couch, two glasses of brandy sitting on his messy coffee table, both untouched as he looked at her. Silence stretched between them, her words explaining why she had come here still hanging in the air between them.

“Riza, I can’t,” he said.

She stiffened, and her look hardened, but he held up a hand to stall her.

“I can’t do it tonight,” he continued, “and if you’re set on this course, then we’ll have to be smart about it.”

“I want it gone, Roy,” she said, her voice both hard and brittle. “I can’t stand it anymore. I want it gone. I don’t want anyone else to be able to use me to gain flame alchemy again. I need you to burn it off, or I’ll find some other way—even if that means killing myself to do it!”

His heart lept into his throat at that, and he reached out, grasping her shoulder. “No—No Riza, not that, never that. Please… just be a little more patient. I’ll do it, but you’ve got to plan with me. We’ll need supplies and a place for you to rest for a while. I… I’ll have to go deep. Tattoos don’t burn easily. Riza…” he made sure she was looking at him. “…it’s going to have to be deep. Second, maybe third degree. I… I don’t want to do that to you. Are you certain?”

She looked him in the eyes, many different emotions playing in her eyes, but it was clear she was set on this path.

“Yes.”

~*~

He did more research on burns then he thought he would ever do. Riza helped him. They were “heroes of Ishval,” highly decorated, and the brass was alright with giving them some time off. Roy claimed it was for some research. He also claimed that he needed Riza’s help because of her father’s knowledge. It wasn’t as if the military didn’t know about her father and that he was Roy’s master. It just wasn’t spread around.

They both composed lists of what would be best to get, of what sorts of medical treatments might aid in the healing, and what the process might be like. It was disturbing research, but Roy was determined to do this right. Riza didn’t seem as concerned about it, though, and it worried Roy. Still, they pushed on with the research, the path set, and now the preparations underway.

~*~

“I can’t do your whole back.”

“You Promised!”

Riza rarely yelled, rarely threw things, but this time she did. She hurled a glass, not caring as she hear it shatter, the heavy bottom of the glass clunking to the floor instead.

“Riza, I can’t,” Roy protested. “You’ve read the texts. If I burn that much of your back that deeply there will be problems!

“You have to get rid of all of it!” She demanded it of him, stepping closer to him. “I don’t care about any problems! You have to get rid of all of it!”

“I can’t!” he insisted.

“You have to!” Her voice was hard, demanding.

“Riza, I can’t you’ll die!” He roared.

“Then I’ll die!” she yelled back.

She watched as, for a moment, he froze. Then a wild look grew in his eyes and he surged towards her, grabbing her by the shoulders. “What do you mean?” he asked, shaking her. “What do you mean by that?”

Riza couldn’t help herself anymore. The tears spilled over, emotion she had been bottling up for so long spilling out. “I mean, I don’t care if I die!” she said, although there was a lot less heat in it then a moment ago. Her voice was caked with tears and emotion. “I don’t care… I don’t care… I want to. I want to die, Roy!”

The words spilled from her mouth, words that she hadn’t spoken aloud before, not even to herself. But now that they were out, it was like the rest of the dam broke. “I want to die… please… I hurt so many… I don’t... Just let me die.”

He was looking at her with horrified eyes. “Were you… Were you going… Were you going to-to use me to… to commit suicide? Were you—“ his voice stuck for a moment, “—Were you going to let me burn you, and then let yourself die from it?”

Riza couldn’t bare that look in his eyes, and she shook her head. “No… No, I was going to get you to burn my back and… and if I lived… then I lived with whatever consequences came. And if I died, then that was what I deserved. I don’t deserve a free life anymore.”

She suddenly found herself wrapped in Roy’s arms, held tightly as he rocked her. She could hear the tears in his voice. “I can’t lose you, Riza. I can’t. And you—you deserve so much more. I wish I could give it to you. I love you so much and I can’t—“

The slowly sank down to the ground, he still holding her, Riza still in shock of what all had just happened.

“I won’t do it, Riza. Not while you’re like this. You have to want to live. You must live! Defy what your father did to you! Work with me to make sure that another Ishval never happens again! But until you’ve decided to live again no matter what, I won’t burn your back.”

For a moment, Riza was still. And then her arms reached up and wrapped around him, and she broke, sobbing on Roy’s shoulder as he held and rocked her.

~*~

“So what do you think those two are up to?” Victoria grinned as she sat down a tray of empty glasses on the bar, taking them off so that she could put new ones on. Her eyes drifted towards the back where the stairs were—and where Roy and Riza had disappeared to.

“Whatever it is, it’s none of your business,” Chris Mustang said. “Now go do your job. Roy-boy needs support, not rumors flying.”

“Alright, alright,” Victoria said with a pout, but headed over towards the table she had been serving, where the men were more than happy to see her, and already beginning to give away more information then they realized.

Her girls were working hard tonight, which was good, because Chris’s mind was not here. Roy had been acting odd lately, more serious than normal, and bringing things to leave in the room that was his. He never quite let her see what they were, and she respected his space enough not to push it, but there was definitely something odd going on.

The feeling only grew the more she thought on it, and finally Chris called to Diana, telling her to take over the bar for a bit. Diana agreed, although it was clear that she was curious as to why. Chris ignored the look, and the looks of the other girls, and headed for the back, towards the stairs that led to the living quarters she kept for the girls.

And that was when she smelled it. Burning. Burning skin. And muffled cries of pain.

Chris abandoned any thoughts of privacy and raced up the stairs, bursting into the room she knew it was coming from—Roy’s room. She flung the door open, breaking the flimsy lock and not caring one bit. What she saw horrified her. The girl, Riza, was face down on Roy’s bed, a gag in her mouth and tears streaming down her face, and unconscious. She was shirtless, and what had Chris’s eyes widening in horror was why.

Her back. There were burns, horrible, deep, burns on the back of it, most of them up high towards her left shoulder, a few towards the right and a few lower. Already they were leaking fluids, and the edges on some looked charred.

Roy was there with shaking hands, already trying to apply went rags to the burns, tears on his face as he repeated “Forgive me, Riza! Forgive me!” over and over again.

“What did you do?!”

Chris Mustang’s voice echoed in the small room, and he flinched at it, stammering something as she charged forward, running a hand along Riza’s forehead. “We’ll need to get her to a doctor immediately! Charlotte—“

“No!”

Roy’s voice cut across the room, and he was up, closing the door and leaving the three of them in there alone. “No, you can’t! That’s why we did it here! Her tattoo—we can’t let anyone see it!”

That was when it registered with Chris that there was a tattoo under all that mess—or there had been. She looked at it, and then back at Roy. There was a knock at the door.

“Madame?” Charlotte’s voice came through the door, clearly confused.

For a moment, Chris was silent. “Charlotte, bring me wet towels and hurry. Four or five of them. And then bring me my book.” She waited until she heard Charlotte hurry off before she addressed Roy again. “Alright—we’ll start some basic care, but you had better tell me everything that’s going on here. And I am bringing a doctor in.”

~*~

“Are you sure you’re ready for this?” Roy looked over at Riza in concern, his eyes sweeping over her.

She was in her uniform, although she had gotten into it a bit stiffly. Her burns were mostly healed, although it had taken weeks, and she had some tightness that the doctor had said would probably stay for the rest of her life. Riza counted it worth it.

“Yes. I’ve already taken enough time off.”

He reached out for her hand, giving it a squeeze. “You know, no matter what you choose today, I’ll still love you, right?”

She smiled at him. “I know. And I’ll love you too.”

He looked at her, a bit guilty. “Riza, I—“

She shook her head. “Don’t.” she said. “I chose this. And I’m going to choose my own path from now on.” She squeezed his hand. “I’m not going to be used anymore.”

He smiled at her. “Good. I’ll support you every step of the way.”

“And I’ll do the same for you.”

~*~

The door opened, and Roy looked up from his desk, his eyes widening for a moment, before a slight smile lifted his lips.

“So. You chose this path after all.”

[doublenuzlocke]

Entry #7: Stellar Flight

“There!”

“I see it, I see it!”

Gold sweated as he pushed the RCS thrusters into use, forcing the Nuzleaf down from their original path. It was a good thing as well, Crystal noted, due to the large bolts of plasma that shot past the location they once were. A quick reorientation to have the engines pushing to their destination saw them speeding towards their aggressors.

The Kanto Flagship, Kanto Military Service Argent, attempted to compensate, the plasma cannons rotating to their current path. Gold reacted swiftly, doing manuvers in a wild fashion that saw the cannons desperately attempting to lock-on. They wouldn’t shoot otherwise, a standard in combat due to the risk of a misfired bolt hitting something important at a later date, the first ones only missing due to Gold’s sudden drop.

Their communication system lit up once more, a crack visible from the last time it had done that. Gold had opted to punch it after their last call to them to surrender, which was likely to be repeated if they opted to respond. Instead, Gold and Crystal opted to ignore the thing and continue their escape from the fleet through the KMS Argent. The fact that they hadn’t just been shot down by now was a testament to Gold’s piloting skills.

They had originally aimed for any stretch of space, the Interplanetary Transport System currently locked down due to their attempts to escape, but had been essentially surrounded. The only vessel that would enable their escape was the KMS Argent due to an act of sabotage by their friend Silver, the shield systems damaged and inoperable as a result. The act of sacrifice haunted Crystal as they fled, but she would focus on the opening first and then deal with that once they had breathing room.

Travelling under the KMS Argent was a worrying affair as the ship was large: they did not know if someone would manage to restore the shield and essentially trap them inside, but the plasma cannons could not get a clear enough aim with Gold’s wild piloting. They know the other battleships wouldn’t hesitate to open fire, however, so wouldn’t have wasted time even if the looming threat of restored shielding was present.

“Almost… almooost…” Gold muttered to himself as the other side of the flagship moved from overhead to behind them. Crystal gripped the console as they barely managed to escape the Argents shields became a solid force once more and Gold activated the Relativity Drive, a fool’s errand outside the ITS due to the dangers of rogue debris as the Mauville Star would attest, but at this point they were just plain desperate to escape.

Gold stopped it after a short period, before changing directions and reactivating it. Crystal knew he was trying to prevent any chance of following them as he repeated the tactic several times, but couldn’t help but wonder…

“Gold… where do we go now?”

Gold looked at her, his expression clear in that he hadn’t put much mind to it. The situation was bad: every planet and fleet would be looking for them, and the outcome of their being alive or dead didn’t really matter to them. After a few more random direction changes, Gold finally slumped into his seat.

“…I dunno. This situation has my head messed up,” he brought his hands to his face and let out a sigh.

Crystal, meanwhile, brought her legs up and hooked her arms around them as she processed the last few hours. Everyone was gone: Silver had merely been the last, his sabotage the result of his being backed into a corner and giving his friends the opportunity to escape. Green, Blue, Kotone, everyone else had already been taken. She attempted to hold it back, barely able to prevent tears actually escaping her eyes rather than pooling around them, and was mostly successful though a soft sniffle did escape.

She and Gold were the last ones. That was all she could think about.

“Damn it… not now…”

Crystal looked at Gold, who seemed to be focusing on a screen she couldn’t see from her side. He turned it off before moving his chair around and standing up.

“I need to check something out, before we keep going. We should have plenty of time before the fleet come about, but can you keep an eye out for them?”

Crystal could only nod as she watched him leave, his eyes not meeting hers as he left. An oddity, as Gold was the type of person who would always try and look another in the eyes. The few times he didn’t would tend toward his focus on something else, like keeping the Nuzleaf from falling apart mid-transit.

She hummed to herself and looked toward the window, keeping an eye out as asked. Yet as she watched the endless abyss, a feeling crept up her back. A glance away, toward the monitor Gold had been focused on, only fed the feeling and prompted her to check it out herself. Crystal pushed up and moved around the divider, coming to the monitor and the readout upon it.

“All Systems Normal.”

…but, then what was Gold so concerned about?

The feeling grew, and Crystal finally recognised it for what it was: dread. She looked toward the door Gold had left through, before following him at a brisk walk. It soon became a jog, and then a full blown sprint as she crossed the small vessel, taking two steps at a time as she entered the lower portion and saw it.

Gold, inside an Ejection Pod, looking down to the floor.

“Gold?!”

He didn’t look up, not even as Crystal cleared the room within a second and was upon the pod, attempting to open it, her nails clawing at the airtight seal and locking mechanism. Gold, however, kept it sealed.

“I was hoping to get out before you realised…”

She looked at him with betrayal, his words stinging her, yet she pressed on in her attempts to remove him from the pod. A frustrated growl escaped her as she gave up her attempts to pry and instead opted to attempt to kick the large steel door in.

“Crystal…”

She ignored him, her kicks turning to punches as she grew more agitated. She needed him. He was the only one left that she knew… Everyone else was gone…

Tears welled up in her eyes as she continued to punch at the pod.

“Crystal… look at me…”

She glanced at him as she reared up another punch, and that took all the wind from her sails. Her body relaxed, not from relief but from shock, as she learned why he had attempted to slip away from her, when she thought him to be the only one left.

Because he wasn’t.

Two purple eyes stared back at Crystal, filling her with absolute dread. As she began to focus, she began to notice that he was starting to sweat, and brought her hand up to his face to try and bring him some comfort, only for her hand to be intercepted by the inches thick transparent steel. Instead, she lay it flat on the separating barrier.

“When…” “Since the Outbreak.”

That surprised Crystal. The Outbreak happened relatively two hours ago, and those infected had immediately been taken. So Gold had been fighting something that had taken even the strongest almost immediately? How could he have…

“I could leave you alone,” He answered her unasked question with a grin, but she knew it hollow. Instead, fear clouded his eyes: he had resisted it, but was now losing the ability to keep his mind his own.

He brought his own hand up and placed it opposite her own on the transparent steel, his skin slowly turning pale as he kept fighting to the bitter end. Crystal couldn’t watch, closing her eyes and bringing her forehead to the barrier as she tried desperately to block out the reality that she had lost him.

“I’ve set the autopilot to randomly jump from here. That should keep you safe, until you can use that nerd brain of yours to figure a way to save everyone.” A more genuine smile graced his lips, although Crystal did not see it.

“Gold… please…”

“Don’t worry, Crys. We’ve gotten out of worse scrapes than this, ain’t we? Outran a tribe, then their fleet after I accidentally got hitched,” he let out a sigh of apparent contentment, “good times. Horrifying, but good.”

A smile couldn’t help but crack on her face, brief and fleeting but there all the same. Only Gold could crack a joke as he was consumed, a fact that reasserted itself as Gold suddenly hunched over in pain, clutching his head and hissing at pain, as if it would flee at the challenge.

“I’ll be waiting… Crystal…” he smiled, a small smile not marred by self-doubt like it usually was when he had one covering his face normally. Crystal opened her eyes to see it, one last visage, before his hand pushed the button that ejected his pod. Within seconds of its release, the Nuzleaf once again began randomly jumping around the galactic quadrant to avoid pursuit.

Not that Crystal would notice. She merely looked at the empty tube that once contained Gold. His pod would emit a distress signal, bringing any nearby vessels to it where he would be taken on board. At that, she could sigh in relief: he would not die, at the very least not physically.

She didn’t know how long she stood staring, fixated on a piece of metal inside a larger piece of metal in a vacuum; minutes, hours, possibly even days. But by the time she pried herself away, she had decided on a course of action: she would locate one of the old war science stations and try and access some of the computers. Hopefully, the old systems would help her discern how the Outbreak occurred, and how to go about destroying it at the source.

Steeling herself, she re-entered the cockpit and sat in her pilots seat, bringing it forward from Gold’s sitting position (something she knew would annoy him once she got him back), and locked in coordinates. There would be a facility in the Dash Cluster, where she could at least get documentation and the last known coordinates of another facility. Once she did that, she’d figure out where to go from there.

But she knew what she had to do. She would not let anything stop her, even her old friends, yet neither would she see them come to harm. What had them all wouldn’t see them harmed either, as it needed them to survive and grow. A false growth, parasitic and eternally hungry, one she would stop.

No matter what she had to do, the Mew-2 Virus would be stopped.

[youngbloodseavey]

to the heavens and back // corbyn besson

requested: no, but this is based off a scene from the tv show “this is us”

this is by far, the longest and saddest imagine i have ever written. it’s 3313 words of pure fucking sadness. please don’t hate me i’m sorry corbyn okay bYE

pairing: corbyn x female!reader

triggers: house fires, hospitals, death.

||

“mom, dad!” giselle stumbled into corbyn and y/n’s bedroom, coughing violently as she shook her parents awake.

“what is it,” corbyn mumbled groggily, sitting up as he wiped the sleep out of his eyes.

“the house is on fire.” giselle cried, sending a jolt down y/n and corbyn’s backs. and that’s when they began to smell it.

smoke. thick, grey, firey smoke. the nauseating scent of it entered their lungs at an instant, and corbyn and y/n leaped out of bed.

“y/n! stay here with ellie, i’m going to get justin and alex. wet some towels and hold them over your faces, it’ll help keep the smoke out of your system.” corbyn called to his wife and daughter, who nodded and immediately ran to the bathroom to retrieve the materials corbyn asked for.

corbyn took in a deep breath, before throwing the door open, immediately being hit with a wave of thick smoke. corbyn let out a cough, waving the smoke away from his face before closing the door behind him and beginning to run towards justin, his oldest son’s room.

he sprinted across the hall, passing the balcony that overlooked the entrance to their gorgeous california home, that corbyn and y/n were able to purchase after years of hard work on both their parts. all their hard work, going up in red-hot flames.

corbyn spared a quick glance over the balcony, seeing that most of the first floor had gone up in flames, and the fire was steadily creeping up the stairs. corbyn let out a violent cough once again, trying to rid his system of the toxicity that was entering it, before barging into justin’s room.

the fifteen-year old was still asleep, which was no surprise. he took after his father in the “need to sleep 24/7″ department.

“justin! get up right now!” corbyn yelled at his son, shaking his lanky body to rouse the boy out of bed.

“what’s going on, is it time for school yet?” justin mumbled groggily, the intensity of the situation him and his family was in clearly not registering in his mind.

“the house is on fire. now get your damn ass up.” corbyn growled, throwing the covers off of justin’s body. 

justin’s bright blue eyes widened, and he immediately leaped out of bed.

“what? the house is on fire?” justin’s eyes were wild, and he stared at his dad with pleading eyes.

“yes it is. hurry up, so i can get your brother too,” corbyn ushered justin to the door, feeling the heat radiate from the other side. corbyn softly cursed under his breath.

he grabbed justin by the shoulders, feeling his son begin to shake and his breathing quicken.

“take a deep breath j, and it’ll all be okay.” corbyn reassured his clearly anxious kin, before slamming the door open, seeing that the hallway to the master bedroom had still not yet been consumed by the flames.

corbyn and justin sprinted across the hall, flinging the door open to the master bedroom where y/n and giselle were waiting. y/n immediately took justin in her arms, hugging and kissing his forehead and rambling on questions as to his condition.

“i’m going to get alex. the moment i close this door, stuff some wet towels beneath the door. got it?” corbyn breathed out, y/n reaching out and handing corbyn a towel to put over his own face.

“be careful babe, i better be seeing both you and alex back here in the next five minutes okay?” y/n spoke, terror in her eyes. corbyn pressed a swift kiss to her forehead and nodded, before using one hand to press the wet towel up to his face and the other to slam open the door.

the dark orange flames had caught to the main hallway of the second floor, slowly beginning to burn away at the carpet and banister. corbyn began to run to where alex’s room was, knowing that there wasn’t much more time to be able to get his whole family out alive.

corbyn slammed the door open, seeing that his twelve year-old son was already awake and pacing the floors, tears streaming down his face. alex ran to his father the moment he saw him, flinging his arms around him and beginning to sob.

“shh, it’s gonna be okay. put this towel over your mouth, and hold onto me. you’re gonna be okay. the moment i open this door, we are going to go as quickly as we can to mom and i’s bedroom, okay?” corbyn pressed a light kiss onto his son’s forehead, handing him the damp towel and taking in a breath of clean oxygen before whipping the door open. he stumbled back, seeing the flames licking at the frame of the door on one side, leaving only a strip of space untouched by fire.

corbyn’s arm went immediately to push alex away from the impending flames, his ocean eyes looking about wildly for something to protect them from the fire.

his gaze landed on the twin mattress that laid upon alex’s bed, and he immediately threw the covers and pillows off the mattress, heaving the mattress up as a type of shield.

“alright alex, no matter what, do not let go of me. okay?” corbyn spoke to his quivering son, who nodded and latched his arms around corbyn’s waist while still holding the towel to his mouth. corbyn took in a breath and started into the hall, holding up the mattress to shield himself and alex from the flames.

corbyn felt his flesh become singed as flames licked at his fingertips, the exposed parts of his arm becoming red and painful. alex’s grip on corbyn’s waist was as tight as the poor boy could hold, and he held in sobs and screams as he jumped away from the deadly flame.

“only a few more seconds alex, you’re gonna be okay.” the blonde man spoke through gritted teeth, pushing away the immense pain flowing through his veins to focus on saving his family.

after a few more agonizing seconds, corbyn flung open the door of the master bedroom to see the rest of the family huddled by the window, and he pushed alex towards his mother.

y/n immediately smothered alex with affection, checking him for burns and any type of injury. she pressed a firm kiss to her youngest son’s forehead before moving him along to his older brother, who took alex in his arms and held him tight.

y/n rushed up to her husband, taking his face in her hands and planting a hard kiss to his lips.

“never scare me like that ever again besson.” she warned, wiping some of the soot from his porcelain skin.

“i would never dream to.” corbyn kissed her again, before running over to the large window that was on the side of the wall and prying it open. “c’mon kids, y/n. climb onto the roof,” he ushered out his children one by one, and took y/n by the hand as he guided her onto the tiles of the roof.

it seemed as though luck as on the side of the besson family, for the moment they stepped foot onto the roof the door to the master bedroom blew in, the flames now beginning to overtake the room.

corbyn grabbed a sheet from the bed before joining his family on the roof, rolling the sheet up as tightly as he could in order to create a make-shift rope.

one by one, corbyn swiftly lowered each member of his family to the ground below, until he was the only one left standing on top of the roof.

corbyn stood on the roof for a moment, debating on whether or not to risk himself and run into the fire to save items of importance, or to go safely back down to the ground.

“princess! where’s princess?” he heard giselle yell from down below, referring to the fluffy, white pomeranian that y/n and himself had bought for giselle’s eighth birthday.

the moment the screams escape from his daughter’s mouth, the deed was sealed in corbyn’s mind. he took one glace at his terrified family before leaping back through the window into the firey house, before disappearing from sight as the smoke consumed his form.

“corbyn!”

“dad!”

“babe!”

the horrified screams of y/n and the kids filled the air, piercing like a knife in the cold night. sobs broke out from each member of the family as thoughts of the worst entered their minds, each of them clinging to each other for support.

y/n gathered all her children in her arms, tears running uncontrollably as she choked down sobs. she could hear the sound of sirens approaching her, but all she could focus on is the burning house that contained her husband.

she felt as if the world was crashing down upon her as all she could do is cling onto her children. staring, hoping, praying that her sweet corbyn will reappear from the flames.

she could see out of the corner of her eye the bright red firetrucks approaching, but she couldn’t seem to tear her eyes away from the horror.

she could feel the firemen pulling her back, away from the house. but she felt as if she was glued to the ground, not able to move even a single limb.

she could hear the screams and sobs of her children, but they were distant. her whole body felt numb.

let him be alive. let him be alive. let him be alive.

the words repeated themselves like a prayer, and minutes felt like hours as the distressed besson family waited to see if their beloved corbyn would appear.

it had been at least a minute since corbyn had disappeared into the flames, and the hope that had ignited itself inside the members of the family had begun to die out.

and just as the last bit of optimism had died in their hearts, the front door burst open. it seemed like the world had stopped turning as the charred wood revealed a dirty, sooty, coughing, but alive, corbyn besson.

“i got princess,” he managed to choke out between heaves, holding up previously white pomeranian, who was now black with soot. with him he also carried a sack, which was full of important documents, albums, and family photos.

“corbyn!” y/n burst out in sobs, breaking away from the grip of the firefighters to run to her husband. corbyn set down princess, who immediately ran to giselle.

y/n barreled into corbyn, taking him tightly in her arms as her tears made marks on his blackened clothing.

“never do that to us again you bastard,” she mumbled into his chest, before taking his face into her hands and planting a firm, passionate kiss on his lips.

“i love you,” he murmured, pulling away from their embrace.

“i love you too besson.” y/n replied softly, savoring the beauty of his presence, a presence she never thought she would be able to feel again.

“dad! daddy!” the voices of justin, alex, and giselle rang out as they ran to their father, each of them enveloping him in a bear hug.

“i love you guys,” he coughed out, trying to choke out some more words. but instead of words, only coughs and heaves left his mouth.

“give your father some space,” panic settled back into y/n’s heart, as corbyn fell onto his knees. “medic! we need a medic!” she screamed towards the fleet of first responders, and nearly immediately a stretcher came running towards them.

corbyn was nearly passed out, and he was on all fours desperately trying to breathe.

“what’s happening to daddy!?” giselle shrieked, trying to run to her father but was quickly held back by her two older brothers.

“shh, everything is going to be alright,” justin whispered into the ears of his younger sister, but inside he knew what he said wasn’t true. he knew something was wrong.

corbyn was quickly lifted onto a stretcher, the paramedics immediately put an oxygen mask onto his mouth before running him to a ambulance.

“kids, i’m going to go with your dad. stay here okay? these nice firefighters are going to take care of you,” y/n rushed over to her kids, her breath speeding up as panic settled into her heart. “i love you guys very much,” she managed to choke out, before running to the ambulance that corbyn was being loaded into and hopping in.

giselle, justin, and alex were left there, being guided into a police car by a nice woman in a firefighters uniform. justin gently picked his baby sister up, feeling her wet tears soak into his t-shirt.

no tears fell down the teenager’s face, but he felt the fear and despair in his heart. something was going to go wrong.

||

y/n had one hand on alex’s shoulder, the other wrapped around giselle’s small frame. justin stood directly next to her, stone faced and looking at the floor.

y/n didn’t know a human could produce as many tears as she could, it seemed like there was a never-ending stream of pain flowing through her body since the fire.

the piercing noise of a heart monitor, driving her to near insanity. the monotone “beep” of a flatline echoing through her brain, tearing her heart apart with each passing second. 

she never thought she would be clad in black, standing next to the polished wooden box that contained the body of her husband.

her sweet corbyn. the love of her life, the boy who stole here heart in a moment when she was merely 16. the boy who she exchanged tender vows with, the one who held her hand as she birthed their beautiful children into their lives.

the love who would live no more.

his lungs had failed him. the very same lungs that let him travel around the world with his four best friends. the lungs that touched the hearts of millions with corbyn’s angelic melodies. the lungs that saved lives, failing to save his.

his brain had lost oxygen. the same brain that mesmerized millions of adoring people for years. the brain that held a love for outer space, the brain that was smarter than he ever let on. the brain that could solve any problem thrown at it, not able to think anymore.

his heart no longer beat. the heart that pulsed with adrenaline as he raced around stage, feeling the energy of the crowd and hearing the lyrics that the band poured their hearts into being sung back. the heart that held so much love for music and his fans, always wanting to go out and play or meet fans no matter how exhausted he was. the heart that was filled with so much love and kindness, the heart that touched millions of lives with a mere smile. the heart that could no longer sing, no longer feel, no longer live.

who knew that the boy who seemed like he could live forever with his energy and mind, would die from cardiac arrest in his hospital bed.

“and now mrs. besson will be giving a speech.” the pastor gestured to y/n, who dried her tears and kissed the foreheads of her children before walking up to the podium.

her bloodshot eyes scanned the crowd, seeing the mass amounts of people whom her husband had changed the lives of. they had decided to have an open funeral, and whomever wished to attend could. fans from all over the world came to mourn the loss of the charismatic, goofy singer, and sea of people seemed to go on for miles.

it was incredible to see how many people a boy band member could touch with his music and heart.

“i met corbyn when we were sixteen, and the moment i saw him, i knew we would be together. i was never a believer in love at first sight, well, that was until i locked eyes with him before third period science. and who knew that a single moment of eye contact would bring me the best experiences of my life,” y/n laughed tearily, trying to compose herself as she felt her voice begin to break.

“corbyn was a blessing to this world. there’s no other way to put it. from his music, to his laugh, to his pure and gentle soul. he was practically perfect,” y/n felt to the tears begin to trail down her face, and she did nothing to stop them.

“but more than that, he was human. he had rough days, hard times. but that’s what made him so amazing.”

“there’s nothing that can fill the void that burns our hearts and souls. there’s no one and nothing that can replace his sunny smile and his goofy ways. my children-” y/n’s voice broke, and she nearly ran off stage when she made eye contact with her son.

justin gave her a reassuring nod, becoming teary himself as he tried so desperately to keep himself composed. with his father gone, it was his job to take care and look out for his family.

he had to be the “man of the house” now, the one who took over his father’s role. he couldn’t let his dad down, not when his family needed him the most.

justin tried to wipe away his tears, but gave up as they simply rolled down his face in streams. he put his arms around his younger siblings, squeezing their shoulders as the trio watched their mom onstage.

“corbyn gave me the most amazing things i could ever ask for, my children.” y/n continued, her heart swelling as she saw her children hug each other in the crow. “corbyn matthew besson blessed the world with his incredible mind, his angelic voice, and most of all, his compassionate heart.”

“he never failed to amaze, and will never cease to. i know that his memory will forever live on in the hearts of millions, and i hope it’s comforting to all to know that corbyn will never truly leave.”

“and while i would trade anything to have him standing here today, i know that he is where he is truly meant to be. among the angels.” y/n looked up into the clear blue sky, feeling the warmth of the sun shining on her skin.

she closed her eyes for a moment, relishing in the warmth that suddenly ran through her body. her eyes opened, being met with the sight of the gorgeous azure sky that mirrored the mesmerizing color of corbyn’s irises.

“i love you corbyn, to the heavens and back a thousand times,” she whispered to the sky, repeating the words that corbyn and herself exchanged frequently. it was their phrase of love, their “always” and their “okay”.

“thank you,” y/n spoke for a moment, not knowing how to end her heartfelt speech. she relished in the silence that followed, and slowly walked back to where justin, alex, and giselle stood.

the pastor took the microphone and began to say a closing prayer, and y/n took her children under her arms again. she choked back sobs, closing her eyes as she imagined corbyn’s warmth enveloping her as it used to.

she imagined his soft lips on her forehead, his arms wrapped around her shoulder, his chin balanced on top of her head.

maybe if she imagined hard enough, his touch would be real again. he would have never been torn from the universe as he so painfully was.

but she knew that wasn’t going to happen. and her sweet love was gone forever.

and it was such a painful reality to know.

[theodoragottwald]

O Brother, O Sister

Marius was dying.

Bloody and shaking, he lay in Theo’s arms, his cloudy green eyes going flat as the life left him. Theo was screaming, clutching him to her, trying to shake him back to life, but to no avail. He raised a trembling hand toward her face, but it fell limp before it could reach her.

Blood, blood everywhere.

Blood of mine, blood of mine.

Gilnean blood spilled on Lordaeronian soil. History repeating itself, looping and looping, over and over.

Theo woke up.

She was soaked with sweat. Her heart was pounding in her chest. Beside her, Henrietta continued to sleep soundly, curled up in the blankets like a cat. Several real cats stirred at Theo’s outburst, low purrs and mewls asking her in their own language what was wrong. Hecate hopped up into her lap, waving her tail in the witch’s face.

Just a dream. It was just a dream.

But dreams were never just dreams for a Gottwald. It had felt too real, had been too intense to just be a passing night horror. She’d had a vision; of this she was sure. She’d been keeping an eye on the stars and reading her tea leaves almost every day. She knew what was coming.

War.

Theo bowed her head and steadied her breathing, calming the beast in her veins that threatened to tear loose in her wild fear. Her heart came slowly to a normal rhythm and the terror that gripped her began to recede.

But her certainty went nowhere. War was coming, rushing to meet her, and for once, she could not turn tail and run from it. Having found her brother and knowing full well that he would be on the front lines, she couldn’t ignore this war. Especially not after having such a visceral, horrifying vision of his death.

Theo rose and lit a few candles in the wagon. She hunted down paper and quills and began writing out letters in her jagged, misspelled handwriting. The sun was beginning to rise by the time she finished, but she couldn’t return to sleep, not yet. She had far too much to do.

As soon as it was fully light outside, she and Henry set off to mail the letters. The first was to Sera, asking that she please come to Stormwind and pick up Henry to stay with her while Theo was away. The second was to a contact in Booty Bay to come pick up the horses and the wagon, as Theo disliked the way the stars over Stormwind looked and didn’t want to leave them there. The third was to Marius, begging that he give his deployment location and orders as soon as possible so that Theo could get to him immediately.

Her letters sent, there was nothing left to do but wait.

The city was abuzz as they made their way through the streets. Word of skirmishes and movements in Ashenvale and Darkshore was leaping from mouth to ear all around them. Teldrassil was in danger, this much was certain.

Had it really been so long since she had been there? Had she been in Stormwind this long after all?

Theo hurried along to the Mage Quarter, where her shop stood. It wouldn’t be opening today, or any time soon for that matter. She found a board and a hammer and nailed it over the door, then proceeded to paint “CLOSED - WAR” on the board. She took down the hand-painted sign for the storefront and took it with her as she and Henry made their way back to the cemetery.

They returned to their wagon, locked themselves inside, and waited.

Sera arrived in Stormwind three days later. She embraced Theo and knelt to ruffle Henry’s curls, gushing over how big she was getting.

“She’ll be like one of my own,” she assured Theo. “Besides, she looks more like me than she does you.”

Theo rolled her eyes, but in truth she was holding back tears. She hated being away from her baby, regardless of who was keeping her. She hugged Henry tight and told her to mind her manners for her aunt while she was gone and that she would be right back to her, as soon as she could. Henry, for all her silence and stoicism, sniffled and pouted at her mother, but nodded firmly that she understood.

Theo watched them leave, an ache ringing in her chest, but she knew she was doing the right thing.

The man from Booty Bay arrived the next day. He fretted over Patsy in particular, unsure the old nag would make the journey south, but Theo assured him over and over that the gelding would be around longer than any of them. She paid him double what she had previously agreed to, if only to make sure the horses could get the best care while on the road.

She hugged both of her horses goodbye. Patsy was all but blind by now, standing stock still as she rubbed his neck. Midnight was more concerned, having nearly bitten the man’s hand off while being hitched up, but she soothed him and promised she’d be right back to him, swift as she could.

Theo watched them leave also, the ache in her chest growing, as well as the feeling that she was doing the right thing.

Left with nowhere to stay, she rented a room in Old Town and waited. She stared out the window, pleading with the stars to change their course, to show her something less menacing.

The stars did not heed her call.

[purkinje-effect]

If You Eat Too Much of the Truth at Once, You May Die of the Truth.

Ours is the Kingdom, Chapter 5. Go to previous. TWs: Questionable chem use, abduction, cannibalism themes, weird bastardizations of religious quotations, and to put it complexly... ‘Choly being weird as usual.

____________________

It had been trying, to sneak into the Wild West themed park. All five had been built fortified by a hundred-foot-high reinforced concrete wall, with only two entry points each. Though it was likely of all five parks, August could at least confirm the Operators who had moved into the Dry Rock Gulch staunchly guarded both entry points. Normally, he’d stroll right in and immediately commence his hunting day, but now he had the Operators to contend with. One or two, he could pick off on his own. But if they managed to alert the rest, he’d surely get mowed down by their 7.62 rifles, miniguns, and only Atom knew what else.

When he couldn’t simply enter the South gate, he rounded the wall clockwise looking for a weak point or opening they might not have known to guard or seal up, but he found none despite over two centuries of weathering, a paradoxical testament to the park’s craftsmanship. At the East gate he distracted the guards by tossing a pebble in the opposite direction of where he needed to go, then slipped behind one of them and sprinted up the nearest fiberglass rock face to his right, and out of sight. The Gulch wasn’t just encircled by walls, but also around the majority of its walls by faux-sandstone mountains. He climbed comfortably along the fiberglass crags, hidden between it and the wall, past the building for the mine-cart roller coaster, past a glimpse of the Ol’ Sugartop tower.

He rounded all the way behind Doc Phosphate’s, to perch atop the ten-foot tall section of wall which ran behind it and its prop graveyard, scrutinizing the slip of ancient paper Sierra had given him. Each of the ten bottlecap characters came with its own couplet.

This Hidden Cappy is close to the ground. Look in the place where tombstones are found!

To find the next Cappy, you'll have to be bold, and search where Mad Mulligan pans for gold.

Wearing the Cappy Glasses, he skimmed the fake graveyard below him. He hopped down silently when he caught sight of his second Hidden Cappy. His catskill moccasins absorbed any impact of his nearly seven-foot body rejoining gravity which his agility did not. He crouched behind the grave marker props, a mingling of headstones and wooden crosses. The technological manufacturing process built into the lenses brought out hidden details in the otherwise subtly painted Cappy. The first, located near one of Nuka-Town USA’s bathrooms, had been a G... and now he had the letter E as well. As he penciled the new answer in its relative margin, he wondered if they must spell something.

There were two Cappys in Dry Rock Gulch. The other couplet mentioned Mad Mulligan. He exhaled hard, his lips a thin, desolate line despite the intensity of his gaze. He glanced up to the Protectron in a cowboy hat across the way.

He stood in the shadow of the tree in the fake graveyard, surveying the activity of the Gulch’s Main Street. Between his point of entry and his current position, he had encountered neither raider nor wildlife. To his left stood Doc Phosphate’s, and it was where the Operators had all flocked to. There couldn’t be more than fifty in the park, from his estimate, but he could guess easily twenty of them lounged about in the watering hole. Of course they did. What else was there to do here to entertain oneself, if they’d killed off all the fauna, and the attractions were all at least partly destroyed?

After some time, he approached the robot at a caution. It guarded a cattle pen which should not have been empty.

“Gee, pard’ner,” the Protectron chirped dully. “I could use the help of a depu’tee. Have you seen my Giddyup Buttercups?”

Noticing a few foot long pieces of robotics with peeling yellow paint, August glanced again to the pen. It wasn’t wholly empty, after all, yet this was somehow worse.

He’d broken down his Gulch communes to routine, and usually, he started with the Giddyup Kid as he did now. Before the war, three robots in the Gulch had been programmed to provide a piece of a safe combination when presented with evidence the patron had fulfilled a task for it; and even to this day, the combination changed daily, and the robots could provide their pieces of it. The Giddyup Kid asked people to ‘round up’ the various dog-sized robotic ponies it was named for, and corral them all to its pen. In years prior, August had simply left the ponies in place every time, to limit the need to repeat the chore. But now, he couldn’t just perform the task again--he outright couldn’t perform the task at all.

“From the look of it, a varmint must have got them.” He did his best to mirror their speech mannerisms, both out of humor and routine. “Giddyup Kid, you usually ask me to find them, but they’re not missing. Would I be able to ply you to just... let me have the piece of your safe combination today?”

“I suppose it would do no harm.” It printed a thin ticket from its barrel-chest and presented it for him to tear off himself. “You’re one of my finest deputies. I’d reckon it were those hooligans holed up in... Mad! Mulligan’s! Mine!... but tain’t heard a peep from ‘em for months!” When it had spoken the name of the attraction, it alternated briefly from its stuttered Protectron chirping to a recording with a punctuated, twangy fake-Southern drawl. “Don’t suppose I could convince ya not ta let this detract from your satisfaction of... Nuka-World!”

“I promise. I get the feeling I’ve bitten off more than I can chew.”

“Attractions galore!” it declared happily. “Get them rascals for me!”

He stepped into the Saloon, hoping that if he put on blinders and focused only on the robotic barkeep, the patrons would be too drunk to pay him any mind. He stood at the bar to await the robot’s attention. Experiencing the restoration of power to the park up close kept him ever distracted, habituated by the impulse to collect information from strange light sources.

“Howdy, depu-tee!” Doc Phosphate pivoted in place to greet him, polishing a glass with a rag and its pincers. “We’re shorthanded as ever. Think you could water down a few folks for me? I’ll give ya a piece of the safe combination as a reward.”

“Something tells me you’ve got living patrons on the order list this time,” he mumbled, at a hush.

“Oh, no! Cain’t be goin’ on rememberin’ all that now! You’re one of my finest deputies. Here, two... Nuka-Cola Dark~!... for... Leroy Doyle... and... The Mistress of Mystery. And a... Nuka-Cola Quantum... for... Melancholy.”

Great, he thought to himself, looking over his shoulder at the various raiders, as the robot produced the three bottles on a tray for him. I doubt any of these are their real names.

“Leroy... is the ginger fella by the window, ...The Mistress of Mystery... is feedin’ the jukebox, and ...Melancholy... I believe you’ll find that one upstairs.”

His head perked up from his mesmerization in the looping halogen lights of the music machine, and he looked to Doc with a stunned pleasantry.

“That was most useful.”

“Now get a’crackin’ so’s you can crack that safe!”

He didn’t bother with the tray, carrying the bottles easily with their necks between his fingers. He popped the cap off one with his thumb-claw and slipped it on the table without its recipient detecting him, then followed through to the next in kind atop the jukebox. He climbed the stairs with the Cherenkov-glowing bottle of Quantum in hand, and weighed which of the three raiders on the second story of the Saloon looked thirstiest. He lingered in the moment, trying to get a good look at the Operator with a messy black undercut ponytail, crescent shaped eyeglasses, and a chocolate gold-brocade suit. Moreso than their androgyny, their lack of armor got August’s attention. Briefly caught up in a moment of Craving at how potentially easy a mark this Operator might be, an already intoxicated Melancholy glanced dumbly up at him. They noticed the drink’s arrival and their jaw dropped at the sight of him, and they scrambled in place in an attempt to get distance.

When the table and chair clattered, August scattered to the shadows and prayed those nearby gawked at Melancholy and didn’t notice him pressed into the corner. Melancholy eventually settled back down a bit, letting out a tepid chuckle when the next table over threw a wadded up park map at them. They straightened in their seat, gripping the bottle with one fist on the table, the other with a shot glass.

“Hey...” the Operator whispered, hopeful at best that August remained nearby, “heEy come back. I don’t bite.”

Against his better judgment, he eventually relented, sitting opposite the raider, who’d already poured a shot of the pale blue beverage and knocked it back trying to drown out the stress of the encounter. Melancholy noticed he’d revealed himself, and their cataracted eyes trailed up over their eyeglasses, swooning dreadfully over August’s height even when seated.

“I do. But I suppose that’s beside the point.” August leaned on the table. “Now, I know the Operator I delivered a drink to downstairs isn’t actually named The Mistress of Mystery. Are you actually named Melancholy?”

“Melancholy’s what I go by, yes,” they uttered. August couldn’t tell if Melancholy were more impressed or horrified to be in his presence. “Who are you, anyway? And how did you get in this park? I can tell you aren’t a raider. Shouldn’t you be back in Town?”

August glanced at them expressionlessly a moment before smiling.

“I, too, have several names. And I’m here to deliver some drinks for Doc Phosphate.”

“Why were you deliv... Waiiiit........ What do you want with... Mad! Mulligan’s! Mine?” They let out a ludicrous giggle, mocking the robots’ scripted affect.

“Have you seen any Bloodworms lately?”

He eyed Melancholy’s Pip-Boy, but said nothing. Operators didn’t have those.

“The fuck’s a Bloodworm!” Melancholy processed a moment and self-modulated, pouring a second shot of Quantum. “Pardon my language. You’re a clergyman. A very... laArge clergyman. Saaay, you know a Handy like my Angel could deliver all the drinks for everybody, and you wouldn’t have to lift a finger! A... shapely... claw-tipped... finger...”

All the while, August had fidgeted with one of the caps he’d kept from his deliveries, poorly concealing a smirk, and a little sleight of hand, the more Melancholy prattled on. With them caught up in the look of him, he easily leaned forward and plunked it into their shot glass. The hope was, that Melancholy would be more interested in keeping the money than annoyed by something foreign in their drink. True to expectation, their face screwed up, but they didn’t forfeit the alcoholic drink, downing it and shaking out the cap to keep it themselves.

“Hardly necessary at this point.”

“Not every day the person who ordered the drink gets tipped,” they groused, only to soften, pocketing the cap. “You have a glass? I’ll split it with you.”

It took a moment for August to un-stick, not expecting an Operator to share, let alone with a stranger.

“I, oh. Oh, thank you, if you’d like.” He produced a souvenir shot glass and took what to Melancholy resembled a mere thimbleful, then a second. The Operator’s blood alcohol levels had to be a solid integer, with their coordination and slurring. This was a little too easy. “Would you be so kind as to escort me around town, Melancholy? Things have changed quite a bit since I was here last.”

“How can I turn down such a massive man of the cloth? Of course!” Melancholy offered August a third, and when the Child declined, the Operator polished it off straight from the bottle, forgoing the ceremoniousness of glassware after August had capped him. They left the bottle on the table as they stood, leveraging themselves upright with a chain-wrapped cane. “Just let me tell Angel where we’re going, sooo it doesn’t worry.”

“Oh, Sir! I could have helped you down the stairs,” the heavily modified Mister Handy robot insisted, approaching as they hit the last few stairs. “I do apologize for getting so swept up in, well, sweeping up the place. Your new compatriots make quite a mess.”

“It’s quite all right. You can stay around here, if you want. I made another friend, and he wants me to show him around! We’ll be back before you know it.”

“I’m only borrowing him,” August at last deduced, with a wink for the robot.

“Do be safe. And stay away from the Nuka-Mixers without my supervision, if you would! You remember what happened last time!”

“Yes, Angel.” Melancholy mumbled something offhand under his breath, but August couldn’t make sense of it.

On their way out, August retrieved the second third of the combination from the barkeep Protectron. Head askew, he watched Melancholy amble on ahead of him a few paces down Main Street. The cane wasn’t just for show, and from the faint clipping sound and unusual angle of Operator’s methodical gait, he could tell his initial assessment of a lack of armor had been false--it was simply of a type worn beneath the clothing, rather than atop it. And yet, the Pip-Boy, and the Mister Handy. It was a Pip-Boy, right, even when worn on the right arm? Melancholy had to have been very new to the outfit, not to have recognized August by now, and not to have known what a Bloodworm was. What could this middle aged milquetoast possibly be providing the Operators?

“Here, pastor guy. Next one’s on me.” Melancholy drew the keyprong from his Pip-Boy and connected it to the last Protectron August needed to see, then navigated various menus, flourishing the gloved fingers of his electronics arm all the while. “It’s easy, really. Just a little Mark-V interface markup, and...” He clicked his tongue as the ticker-tape began to print.

Oh. Maybe he was providing a lot of whatever that was. ...Drunk.

“I appreciate you sparing me the wasted bullet, but the hard part is going to be getting to the safe itself.”

“Why? Where is it?”

“The Theatre.”

Melancholy squinted at him as he put up his keyprong, and One-Eyed Ike booted back up.

“...Why’s that hard.”

“Your associates aren’t fond of me, to put it simply. I hate to trouble you, with all you’ve already done, but could you...?”

“Stay put.” He wagged a finger at August. “I promise not to get distracted. They’re just in there doing drunk improv... and they’re awful!”

August favored the shadows of One-Eyed Ike’s blacksmith barn while he waited. His stomach gurgled. Of course two blood packs wouldn’t have sated him, after fasting two days before traveling to Nuka-World. He rubbed at his wild sideburns, only to remember he hadn’t taken off the Cappy Glasses all this time. He returned them to their secure compartment in his Marine armor leg, simply to keep them safe. He wasn’t sure how many pair remained in tact throughout the park now, or how to find them if he broke or lost these.

Melancholy tried to get a jump on August, but the Child heard him at a hundred feet away with that cane, and whatever hinges hooked together the parts of his under-armor. August let him think he startled him, garnering a drunken grin from the Operator.

“Who’s ready to go on a ride that will likely never work again!”

“It doesn’t have to work to provide me what I need.”

They walked over two rows, to Mad Mulligan’s Mine-Cart Coaster. The venue once had housed a brief cue outside, and August supposed the game of it was, that once someone had obtained the key to the building, they could at their discretion let whoever they wanted to in of those waiting outside, and wreak havoc within. Melancholy insisted upon opening the door for them, and letting him in, again with the sleazy grin.

“I suppose I should be grateful you didn’t invite any of your friends along.”

“They’re not my friends.” Melancholy tugged at the key, but it wouldn’t budge. “They’re business associates, nothing more. Now that the Geek’s expanded the outfits into the parks, Dry Rock Gulch is... kind of like a nonstop office party, I guess? Why won’t the--”

“--That’s normal,” August snipped finally. He sighed and smiled, trying to get him to shut the door and leave it. “That’s normal. It’s so you have to redo the tasks in order to ride the ride again. And it kept people from passing the key down the line indefinitely throughout the day. Sheriff Eagle will come by shortly to retrieve it. The safe combination resets once the key is removed.”

“Then I guess we’d better do everything in one pass, that we need to, if you’re trying to avoid the Operators from noticing you. Or whatever it is you’re trying to accomplish.”

August this time led the way, no longer interested in playing the naive patsy now that the two of them were alone. The gift shop to the left disinterested him, so he drew his new Disciples’ knife and guided Melancholy into the adventure cave tunnel which prefaced the ride itself.

“Are you sure you don’t know what a Bloodworm is?” He didn’t look back as he asked.

“No, but I sure would like to. I fancy myself something of an entomologist.”

“Really, now. Never would think I’d have something in common with a raider. Much of my work comes from studying insects.”

“I’m not a raider, I said. I’m... an opportunist. My other rackets washed out all at once a few months ago, and I’ve got history with both Geek and Hancock. When I heard they’d relocated out here to set Nuka-World straight, I didn’t even hesitate to flock out here all the way from Goodneighbor. This place has always been a massive trader hub, from what I hear.”

Various animatronics and cutouts had been set up throughout the attraction, along with buildings and artificial waterways, to simulate various aspects of Wild West life. It almost disgusted him when he came down this way, just because he knew things like a gold panning shack didn’t belong inside something that people called a mine.

“...What about the Giddyup Kid’s Buttercups? It’s purely curiosity, but you wouldn’t happen to know anything about them, would you?”

“The Buttercups--!” Melancholy sputtered, failing to contain a limp guffaw. “Overboss ate those!!”

“He what now.”

“Geek! He ate ‘em! You think that’s bad, you should’ve seen what he did to the Galactic Zone!” The Operator wiped his tears on his sleeve and sniffed, still chuckling. “I take it you haven’t actually met the Geek yet.”

August didn’t want to try to understand what Melancholy could have possibly meant.

“Can’t say I’ve had the chance yet, no. More pressing things have occupied me.”

“He’s somethin’ else. Really.”

August raised a hand to pause Melancholy behind him. Where Mad Mulligan pans for gold. He wore the Cappy Glasses again, and glanced to their left. He knew the location of this Hidden Cappy even before scanning for it, familiar with this shack. He hopped down over the stream to inspect the Cappy up close, and added an ‘H’ to his ‘G’ and ‘E.’ When Melancholy looked on expectantly, he acted like what he really sought lay inside the shack, and came out with a can of pork n’ beans that, for whatever reason, was not a prop.

At first opportunity resuming their trek, August discarded it. Melancholy knew it wasn’t what August went down there for, but disregarded it for the moment.

“And you,” Melancholy continued, hoping to break the silence. “You’re a tall slice heaven. Who... or what... are you? I have to have asked now name by your.”

“Your associates call me Father Wachusett. And just as I have many names, I am many things. I’m me. Though, if we’re discussing qualities, not just identities... I am very... very... hungry.”

“On a scale of RadRoach to Stingwing, just how edible are these things?”

“They are ambrosial. I hear this Geek of yours exterminated them all, and we’re witnessing their extinction. Mad! Mulligan’s! Mine! was once their nest. I came here to collect their meat.” He nearly groaned to entertain the affect, but could think of no better way to hide his mounting rage. “Bloodworms are one of the cornerstones of how I observe my faith. If they are gone, I have lost a major component to my observances.”

“Bloodworms don’t have anything in common with Bloodbugs, do they?”

“What do you know about Bloodbugs?”

“--I know one al-me killed most once.” Melancholy’s hand went to his heart, his face contorting in nausea at the recollection. For a moment, he grew animated, unpleasantly eager. “Wait! Are you suggesting Bloodworms are Bloodbug parasites!”

“What! No. You idiot! They’re entirely unrelated.”

They came to the room with the coaster’s loading platform. August couldn’t sit still, scaling the entire space of upturned stanchions and dirt. Eventually he began to stomp in a tantrum, desperate for any percussion to summon them from the ground.

“What are you doing?” Melancholy laughed, his face shining with cold sweat.

“They’re terrestrial! And they can’t be gone!”

Being called out on the behavior only left August storming deeper into the attraction. He followed the track into a maintenance tunnel he’d never before needed to utilize, and continued pressing onward, possessed by the fear this Geek had truly eradicated the Queen.

“I’m sorry. I just can’t believe you eat bug meat, as part of a religious thing no less.” A light flashed on behind August, and he stopped, to find Melancholy had turned on the screen of his Pip-Boy to illuminate the way. “What follow do you even-- religion, Father?”

“...My own, I’m sorry to say. I was raised an Acolyte of Eternal Light, but no faith seems to contain me.” He snorted, realizing Melancholy had lit the tunnel because he couldn’t see, and thought August needed such assistance. “Your eyesight is terrible, if you need to illuminate this tunnel.”

“I’m practically blind without Calmex or Mentats,” he admitted readily. “You’re not the only mutant here, I’ll have you know.”

“Mutant! I’m Transfigured, Operator. Know your place.”

“Transfigured? Like... like prewar Christianity?”

The words fell from August before he could process them, and he mentally rent apart over the thoughts that came alongside them.

“...That there be some of them that stand here, which shall not taste of death, till they have seen the Kingdom of God come with power. ...Come with... power. With power.”

The Child’s pale, cold eyes wilded and fell on the Operator, who froze, uncertain how to react.

“Was that a Bible quote? I don’t speak Jesus.”

“Are you this drunk, or are you just like this?”

“Not... mutually exclusive characteristics?” Melancholy shrugged at him. “What are we even down here for at this point, if there aren’t any Bloodworms?”

August licked his lips ever so slightly, haven’t taken his eyes off the Operator. Before he could reasonably size up his mark, Bloodworms erupted from beneath them. Roughly the size of a loaf of bread, the oversized worms flung themselves at any exposed skin they could identify--predominantly the pair’s faces. Despite being caught off guard, August had the upper hand of experience, easily slashing them all down.

Except one.

Melancholy screamed.

One managed to latch itself squarely upon the Operator’s face. August lapped the fluids from his knife, approaching at a caution. The knife felt so right, so comfortable, in his grip. Just the right heft, just the right give and balance. Getting a better look at the worms, he could tell from their soft exoskeleton and pale, high-contrast patterning, they were only in their third instar. Softshell. If the Geek had exterminated the only Queen three months ago, these Bloodworms could not have been born yet. A new Queen had already taken.

August rushed Melancholy, grinning wildly to expose his mouthful of oversized fangs. He gripped the worm on Melancholy’s face firmly in one hand, and Melancholy’s hand--wielding a dagger he’d hidden in the shaft of the cane--to prevent him from injuring the worm. After he got Melancholy to drop the pieces of his cane, he gripped the worm in pressure points behind the head segmentation, and caused it to evert so that it could be pulled off.

Holding it again in one hand, he pinned Melancholy down against the wall of the tunnel to regard his psychological state. It writhed and gnashed its segmented mouth flaps angrily, and ‘Choly hyperventilated, having had his oxygen cut off just a bubble too long for his constitution.

August trailed off, inching into Melancholy’s face at the scent of freshly drawn blood where the fangs in the Bloodworm’s buccal flaps had latched on. He dragged the side of his nose along Melancholy’s lacerated cheek, smelling pleasurably of it, before lapping at the wound briefly. Abruptly, he clamped his jaw around the leather binding at Melancholy’s throat, and held him pinned there for some time. His eyes lolled in his head as he nuzzled his whiskered cheek against his, such that he might whisper in his ear.

“You do understand, Operator, that I brought you down here in case I needed to put a Bloodworm in you, in order to guarantee their continued survival. It delights me... to find evidence they still thrive. Perhaps the Geek... didn’t venture this far. I must learn one day how deep the mine actually goes... But for now. I think I’m the one that should be eating you.”

“You’ll... have to take off... the orthotic collar... first...”

A weak moan shivered from him, and he tried to lift his arms to the back of his neck to facilitate this, but didn’t get that far, too enervated by what August had put in his drink, smudged on the inside of the cap. August glared at him, convinced the behavior must be some side effect of the Sleight. And yet, the Operator continued, begging.

“If I’m completely fucked... you... have... to promise to... fuck me. Or else, it’s not... a complete. Fuck.”

“You should stop talking unless you want these to be your last words.”

“I want my last words to be, I’m going out banging!” He choked on arousal, and August just gripped him more firmly. “You think I’m the idiot? What kind of idiot wouldn’t think I knew getting what I was exactly into, coming with you down here...” He laughed at him, only to melt right back into his arousal. “Don’t all your snacks fancy you?”

August clamped a hand over Melancholy’s mouth, and his lower lip quivered.

“You're no appetizer. You’re the main course.”

August let go of the last Bloodworm and let it burrow away. He couldn’t tell if the Operator fainted on account of the chems or the hysteria... or a combination. For the moment, he preferred the claustrophobic quiet, to collect the Bloodworms in the cheesecloths he’d packed. His head swam. Had he been tricked?

He stared down at Melancholy’s unconscious body one last time, before stooping to pick him up. He carried him over his shoulder for a spell, harnessing his natural sense of direction this deep down in order to retain his bearings, and locate a utilidor. He had never encountered one outside the Kiddie Kingdom in the past, and he grinned wide, following it until it dead ended far to the North of Safari Adventure.

He couldn’t waste time investigating the northernmost park right then, his hands quite literally full, so he pressed onward up to the Northpoint Dam. It would suffice for now, to double back home to Retreat, and quarter the Operator there. All his equipment for it was home, after all.

“Sir! Sir!!”

The holographic voice endeavored to close the distance between them, and all his loathing coagulated between his chiropteran ears when he recognized it.

Oh no.

[codename-bewareofthefangirl]

Following the lead of that overprotective GOM, may I ask for a really funny scenario of Kagami dating Momoi, and everyone in the GOM are out to threaten and kill - just kidding, they give him their "blessings" and a LIL BIT of a warning~ please make it extra chaotic, like the GOM challenging Kagami in a one-on-one and only if he wins can they properly accept him, or something like that, your choice XD Thanks a whole bunch c;

Hi dear! I hope you’re going to enjoy it, because Ihad a lot of fun writing it! It could be a bit chaotic, I hope it’s stillreadable. Also, I’ve exaggerated some characters for a more comical effect, soit could be slightly ooc, but it’s voluntary.

Have fun!

KagaMomo and protective!MiraGen

 Acknowledgement

 Kagami and Momoi were walking down the street holdinghands, trying to reach the park for an ice-cream, when a car screeched to halton the street beside them. Momoi blinked perplexed at the long, black car andthen a horrified expression flashed on her face.

Kagami looked too, noticing his girlfriend hadsuddenly stopped, and, under his shocked stare, Akashi got off.

“Akashi?” the red-haired muttered, a really badfeeling shivering down his spine.

“I’m so sorry Kagamin!” Momoi whispered, squeezing hishand, and the boy understood.

Oh, fuck.

“Kagami-kun.” Akashi started, placing himself in themiddle of the way so they couldn’t pass, “Let me ask you, what do you think itqualifies you to be our Momoi-san’s boyfriend?” Asked in his cold, politevoice. Even if there was a smile on his lips, his eyes were terrifyinglyserious.

“You told them!” Kagami whispered her through hisgritted teeth.

“I’m sorry! I didn’t realize it!” she apologizedhonestly and he wanted to slam his head against the nearer wall.

“Kagami-kun, I asked you a question.” Akashi repeated,crossing his arm and losing his smile.

“Actually,-” He began, scratching embarrassedly his neck.

Luckily (or maybe not) for him, a sudden voiceinterrupted him.

“I’ve to admit I agree with him, Kagami-kun.” Kagamijolted and turned to see beside himself Kuroko, a vanilla shake in his hands.

“When did you arrive?” he yelled shocked.

“From the start. I’m tailing you two from Momoi’shouse.” He explained blankly, without even trying to feel ashamed.

“Are you fucking crazy?” Kagami shouted, while thegirl became red ‘till the ears. She had kissed her boyfriend in front of hisbest friend!

“I wanted to be sure you’re enough for Momoi-san.” Headded, furrowing his eyebrows.

“You’re my partner!”

“That’s exactly why I’m not persuaded.”

“Could you please not ignore me?” Akashi interruptedthem with a small cough.

“It’s not your business!” Kagami shouted exasperatedbut the two glared at him.

“She is ourbusiness.” Stated menacingly.

Kagami was without words. What they were, a mafia’sgroup?

“KAAAAGAAAAAMICCHIIII!” From far away, the Americanboy caught a glimpse of Kise, running towards him at full force, “WAIT RIGHTTHERE!”

“Damn!” Kagami cursed and, without other alternatives,he dashed past them before anyone could stop him, dragging Momoi with him.

“Kagamin!” she exclaimed, instinctively following himand trying to keep up with his peace.

“Run!” he ordered pulling her by the hand. They had toescape, now. Those guys had gone crazy.

He heard surprised exclamations behind him.

“Get on the car, Kuroko!” Akashi yelled and the carroared.

Damn!

To avoid being followed in the street, he suddenlyturned to the left, taking the wide path that entered in the park and wherecars couldn’t come. He felt a burst of hope in his chest, still running to finda place where they couldn’t reach them, but it was too early to celebrate.

In the air echoed the noise of wheels speeding on theground and, from nowhere, on their right appeared an open trailer pulled by abicycle; on the bicycle, Takao was pedaling with all his strength and seemed onthe verge of fainting, while in the trailer was seated Midorima.

“Kagami! Don’t escape and face us properly!” Midorimayelled at him with a cold glare, “We can’t let you take Momoi-san withouthaving tested your suitability!” added, fixing his glasses.

“Not you too!” Kagami groaned hopelessly.

“Kagami please stop! I’m dying!” Takao beggeddesperately, panting as if he was going to cease breathing in few seconds.Kagami looked at him with pity, but his sense of self-preservation forced himto avert his gaze.

“I’m sorry Takao!” apologized regretfully, suddenlychanging direction and pulling Momoi in a wood, through the grass and betweenthe trees.

“Kagamin!” she whined, starting to feel tired. Shewasn’t an athlete like him.

“I’m sorry Momoi, I’m going to hide you in a safeplace, don’t worry!” Kagami muttered, giving her a fond and worried glance. Shebreathed deeply but nodded. In that moment, she was scared of his friends too.

“YOU’RE NOT!” Kise jumped out of a bush, leaves andbranches in his clothes and ruffled hair, “YOU HAVE TO BEAT ME FIRST!” Yelledpointing a finger against him.

“Die Kise!” Kagami answering, avoiding him with asharp turn and running in the opposite direction. The boy swore and ran afterthem.

Suddenly, a wild Murasakibara appeared in front of thefugitives and Kagami crashed onto him.

“Ah,” the giant exclaimed blankly, “I’m gonna crushyou.” Added opening his purple eyes wide.

“You’re all crazy!” Kagami yelled hysterically,evading his hands and dragging Momoi to the left.

He exited finally from the wood in the open spacewhere children with playing peacefully, but a well-known voice echoed in theair.

“Kagami-kun, I order you to stop!” Akashi rdered,individuating him and chasing after him under the shocked star of the localmothers.

“You can’t escape us.” Kuroko threatened appearing tohis side like a damn ghost.

“Kagamicchi!” Kise was coming too near andMurasakibara tailed them silently and menacingly.

“Kagami stop!” The apparition from the left of Midorima,by foot, completed the cage to trap them.

They were surrounded, they could only go forward beforethey finally reached them.

Without even realizing, Kagami’s body had instinctivelybrought them to the only point of the park he knew well. He found himself onthe street basketball court without realizing and then abruptly stopped, realizinghe could have made a bigger mistake.

In the middle of it, playing lazily with a basketball,stood Aomine.

“Dai-chan!” Momoi exclaimed surprised and the boyraised his eyes on them.

Kagami, panting, froze on the spot and heard thescreaming guys who were tailing them coming to a halt too. They quieted down,stopping at the border of the court, like if some sort of special event was goingto take place.

“Oi, Kagami.” Aomine called him, giving a glance tohis and Momoi’s interlaced fingers, “Let’s play.” He only said, but Kagami knewhe couldn’t refuse. No that he wanted.

“Okay.” He replied, letting go his girlfriend’s handand patting reassuringly her head before entering the court.

Aomine didn’t even wait, coming at him immediately; hedribbled past him and pointed towards the basket, Kagamitried to stop him but he just evaded him and dunked. Kagami cursed and Aomine threw him the ball again.

“Satsuki sucks at cooking.” He suddenly said, in his low, indifferent tone,“Everything she prepares isn’t edible.”

Kagami furrowed, trying to pass through his defense.

“I know. I can cook for two,no problem.” Kagami replied, focused on the match.

Aomine stole the ball without breaking a sweat and advanced.

“She always bitches about everything, is childish, annoying andspoiled,” Aomine continued, trying to shoot but Kagami stopped him and tookpossession of the ball.

“Yeah, I know. But she’s also caring, cheerful andkind. Her flaws are not a problem.” Kagami muttered with firm eyes, trying toreach the other side of the court, but Aomine stole the ball again.

“She’s the worst type of woman,” Aomine added with aknowing snort, rushing to the basket, “She never says what she wants butexpects you to understand it; she needs attentions, love and to feel cherished.”

Kagami tried to stop him, but Aomine avoided him witha fluid movement.

“I know, but I don’t care. If it’s her, it’s fine. I’mjust happy being by her side. Cherishing and loving her is not a burden.” Mumbledblushing furiously.

Aomine let out a small sigh and jumped; Kagami mimickedhim to contrast him, but in the end, Aomine won and slammed the ball throughthe rim like a wild animal. Kagami fell with his back on the ground, whileAomine just landed on his feet and picked up the ball.

“Satsuki, I’ll be honest, is going to be a realhassle.” He stopped in front of him, “So, take care of her properly, alright?”murmured with a smirk on his lips, pointing the ball to his chest. His usualcold or annoyed eyes were unusually soft and worry was evident at their bottom.

Kagami blinked, understanding, and then a wide smile spreadon his face.

“You can bet on it!” Promised, standing up and takingthe ball, and Aomine nodded in acknowledgement.

Then Kagami looked at the silent crowd who had watchedthe match, and opened his arms wide.

“Someone else?” provoked, ready to fight for Momoi,who was watching the two boys of his life so fondly that she had small tears inher eyes.

Akashi sighed, crossing his arms.

“If Aomine had given his blessing, we can only surrender.”Admitted unwillingly.

“I have to agree, even if I don’t like it.” Midorima addedfixing his glasses.

“But remember,” Akashi continued, smiling politely asif he was going to murder him in his sleep, “If you ever make her suffer, we’regoing to let you experience the rage of the Generation of Miracles.” Threatenedand his eyes shined with the colors of the Emperor.

Kagami gulped, but nodded seriously.

“There’ll be no need.” Assured and he made a note tohimself to be the best boyfriend ever or, damn, he was dead for sure.

“It seems I have to acknowledge you too.” Kurokocommented, slightly disappointed, and resumed slurping his vanilla shake.

“You were just enjoying it, weren’t you?” Kagamigrowled, rubbing his temples for the exasperation.

“I’ve never said that.” He replied deadpanned, but hisfriend knew he was smirking inside.

“You bastard…” roared.

Kise stomped his foot on the ground.

“Eh? I don’t want to accept it like this!” poutedchildishly, “Kagamicchi play against me too. You have to beat me!” Challenged him,grinning wildly.

“Oh? Bring it on, Kise!” Kagami accepted, making theball spin on his finger.

“I still want to crush him too. I’ll play.” Murasakibaramuttered, throwing away an empty bag of chips and licking his fingers.

“I’ll take Takao and then we play too.” Midorimaagreed, moving towards where he had left the trailer.

“What happened to him?” Akashi asked slightly worried,arching an eyebrow.

“He fainted in the trailer but should be fine by now.”He answered shrugging as if it was something normal.

“A good match, I approve it.” Kuroko commented with afaint smile and stretched himself., preparing to play

Kagami looked with an excited smile at all the guys, willingto play basketball with him, but then he remembered an important thing.

“Wait, I was on a dat-”protested looking at hisgirlfriend, who chuckled.

“It’s okay Kagamin!” Momoi interrupted him, tugging astrand of hair behind the ear, “Let me see you win, right?” she cheered on him,winking and blowing a kiss.

Kagami blushed, stiffening, and nodded embarrassed.

“I-I’ll win for you.” Stuttered, starting to feelpumped up.

Wrong move. Wrong words.

A cold chill made him shiver. When he turned to facethe others, a curse left his lips and his animal instinct begged to run awayagain.

All the members of the Generation of Miracles weresurrounded by an evil, dark menacing aura and were smirking devilishly at him.

“Yes, Kagami-kun.” Akashi agreed activating hisEmperor Eye, “Try your best to win.”

[hyacinthsgirl]

(i always heed the call for angst) Thomas and Chris on her first hunt, the victim was making too much noise so he had to damage their throat enough to make them stop. You can decide on age/gender of the victim and what happens next GOOOOO

Hurt my Muse. Injure them, make them cry, make them bleed, nothing is off limits!

     she could not remember when it had been the last night she had walked down a street with the starry sky above her head. When she left the building for the first time after months together with Thomas, she felt like a mummy coming out her grave after centuries of sleep, and how appropriate that comparison was for her. One step out of the door was enough to make her realize how much she had missed the outer world. She stopped just right out of the threshold, letting the night breeze blow on her skin without having her shiver ( she was colder than it ), looking up at the dark and silver sky and letting it make her feel so small. Smells, sights, noises - they all overwhelmed her, and Chris let them. For one moment, she felt in peace with herself for being able to witness to all of that once more. She was dead, she would never walk in the sunlight nor see the golden light of September again, but at least she would always have the night and its mysteries and beauties. It hurt, but less than she expected. The world had not been taken away from her completely, just partly. She spent long seconds in silence and contemplation, thoughts like breakers in the ocean of her mind, then her gaze returned to Thomas and she went after him, still not muttering a word.

     She had looked like a ghost in her previous life, and even know things were not much different. The only difference was that, if beforehand she looked ethereal, now she looked dangerous too; the poisonous beauty of the flowers blossoming at midnight. Her pale skin was now pale in a sick way, and her steps were too light, too quiet, too unearthly. She hated it. She wanted her footsteps to echo in the empty streets like they used to, wanted to tremble because of the cold weather, wanted the thirst in her throat to be quenched with water. Knowing her wishes would not come true no matter what did not help. She could only follow Thomas step after step, barely looking at him, as if denying his presence would bring every back to normality. Little tricks of no use.

     Thomas seemed to know exactly where to head and walked without stopping, only checking street names from time to time and then turning left and right, following a path unknown to Chris. She never asked what their destination was. She stayed a few steps away behind him, yet had to catch up with him when he stopped at the corner of an alley and told her to come closer with a gesture of his hand. So she did, and when she was by his side she saw a figure some meters away from them. They were standing all alone in the dim-light, scarcely illuminated by the light of a nearby streetlamp. Like wolves, the two vampires looked at them for a long time, making sure no one was with them nor would come to disturb them, then Thomas headed to them, never leaving the shadows. A few, hesitant seconds after, Chris followed him, pretending her throat was not on fire. The closer they got to the figure ( a woman, she could see the curves of her breasts now ), the more her throat burned, aching for a need she had never wanted before. It disgusted her. She longed for it. She wanted to run away and kept walking behind Thomas.

     He gestured to her to stop in the dark, a couple of meters away from the woman, then approached her. Chris saw the woman startling at the sudden apparition, but the young man’s words visibly calmed her down. As the two of them spoke ( he needed help and she was the only person to be around in that part of the city; maybe she would be so nice to give him a hand? ), Chris looked at the woman better, and the skirt showing enough of her panties, her lips painted in a too bright red and her high heels told her all she needed to satisfy her curiosity. She had met prostitutes during her wanderings before, and they and the odd girl with wild hair had made a silent pact not to bother each other. She looked at them, they looked at her, and nothing more. This one was unknown to her, but that detail would not make things easier.

     Eventually Thomas convinced the woman to come with him in the alley where Chris was waiting. She walked into the alley enough to see there was someone else with the young man, and it was then that her instinct of self-preservation rang a bell in her head and made her stop where she was. Chris stood still, while Thomas, who was right behind the woman, made his move. Or tried to. Being on the streets every night must have taught the woman not to trust anyone, even when ‘anyone’ is two young people whose only fault is to be a little too silent and with a little too bad vibe coming from them. She quickly turned to Thomas and hit him in the face with her bag, unwillingly pleasing Chris. The woman thought that would give her a chance to run away and tried to move past him, but he was extremely faster and grabbed her by her shoulders, trapping her in a tight grip. Her only weapon left was her own voice. A cry of help left her mouth, but it did not have the chance to arrive to anyone’s ears. Thomas opened his mouth enough to reveal his fangs ( so sharp, so shiny in the moonlight ), and Chris immediately knew his intentions. 

     “No, Thomas, don’t—” 

     Blood squirted out the woman’s giugulare in the middle of Chris’ sentence, staining her and Thomas’ clothes and faces. Under her horrified, wide open eyes crimson liquid poured down the prostitute’s neck ( the same happened to you a long time ago, didn’t it, hyacinth girl? ) and disappeared under her shirt. She was not screaming anymore, she never would again. Thomas let her go with unusual gentleness, but the thump the body made when it touched the ground was cruel, deafening. The smell of her blood was piercing and luring, yet Chris resisted and focused on the woman instead. She was not dead yet: she was just walking on the very thin line between life and death, for her body twitched imperceptibly and her chest went up and down fast in a poor attempt to bring enough oxygen in her lungs to take her away from there. That sight hurt Chris. She could feel the woman’s pain and picture what she was feeling as she lied on the ground, seeing her whole life passing in front of her eyes and wondering why she had to die there, on the dirty and wet ground, surrounded by strangers. A wailing left her red lips, turning the knife in Chris’ heart deeper. She had to stop her sufferance. She had to. There was just one way to do so and most of herself denied it. She silenced that part of herself as she knelt by the woman’s side, replacing her own internal cries of denial with a new mantra.

     It’s just an act of mercy. The blood seemed to call her name like a siren, and there was not any reason to resist any further. Her nostrils were filled with its smell and new flames ignited her throat. She despised her own need, but even so she moved her hair away from her face with a graceful movement and took the woman in her arms, feeling her chest moving against her. It’s just an act of mercy. She brought the prostitute’s neck closer to her mouth, her blood staining her dress and hands further. She did not notice, for so focused she was on the wound on the other’s skin, crimson standing out against her complexion. A part of herself was still trying to restrain herself from doing this, but in the end she knew she could not. She was what she was. It was part of her unasked rebirth.

     It’s just an act of mercy.     It’s just an act of mercy.

     She did not look at Thomas as she opened her mouth and her fangs sank in the fresh wound and the taste of blood filled her mouth, her whole being. She wanted to turn away from herself, but instead she kept sucking till her disgust was gone, replaced by pleasure and satisfaction. The time to be ashamed of herself and hate her actions would come later; now she would savor this moment of pure bliss. She drank and drank, repeating to herself the same mantra, holding the woman closer and tightly, unaware of her now still chest, till the moment the last drop of blood left her body. Marking Chris’ curse once for all.